"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Not that most of the Shock haven't wanted to smash Bill's face in before. This is just the first time Tweety's actually gone and hit Bill with a right hook that rocks him back on his heels while her teammates watch in approval. He doesn't act like he notices, even though there's blood pouring out his nose. "Maybe you should leave the whining to San Antonio and the hitting to your girlfriend," he says, and even though it's a little indistinct from the punch, it's still pretty cocky.

"Shut your goddamn mouth or I'll shut it for you! You son of a bitch, you sold her out! Did you think we were all so dumb we wouldn't see Atlanta?" Doesn't matter that she's a foot shorter and a lot smaller than he is; when Tweety's pissed, everyone and anyone gets out of her way, and Bill might be backing up less than anyone else she's ever planned to take down, but he's still backing up. "You son of a bitch, you knew shit was going down, you saw Harding, and you sold Kara out to those sons of bitches anyway! I knew you were a son of a bitch when you did Swin dirty, but this is-"

"They wanted you!" he snaps, and that throws her for enough of a loop that he can continue. "That's right. League officials came to me and to Mr. Davidson and made it perfectly clear that they expected to help the Atlanta franchise get off to a running start, and that they expected us to help them do that. Yes, I saw what happened in Minnesota. I knew what they had in mind. Georgia alum, All-Star… they wanted a player they could model a team on, a freak of nature. Sound like anyone you know?"

"Oh God," someone murmurs.

Tweety's still ready to hit someone, her fist still curled at her side, but she looks ready to listen. She knows what he means. He knows she knows. "They told me to have the film and the… the subject… ready for the next morning. Soon as they left, I called Kara and asked her to come here. I laid everything on the table: the demand they had made, our guesses at what happened in Minnesota and with some of the other teams, and a crazy idea that might actually work. If every team was being molded on one model, what would happen if you used a fucked up model?"

"Watch your mouth," Tweety says.

He shrugs. "You know what they're doing is wrong. If we could put a stop to it…" He doesn't look at Katie. "She listened to me. She told me I was out of my fucking mind. And then she told me to put the tape together and call her sister to get Jelani."

"Dear Lord…" Ruth murmurs, her hands pressed together.

"Oh, they were pissed when she was there the next morning, but I told them they got what they asked for: a Georgia alum, a starting All-Star, and a player you could build a team around, and if they thought they were getting my starting shooting guard, they were going to have to think again. She went quietly. Maybe it was because she was resigned… or because I told her to show up after a night of as much drinking and smoking as she could fit in."

"If you gotta go down, what a way to go," Plenette says.

"Olympic Tower just called an hour ago, furious. I told them if they bring that shit into our house, fine. If they really think they have to, I'll hook up Dallas's momma." He looks Tweety in the eye… and then looks over to Elaine. "Of course, if they don't want all those pretty perfect faces rearranged, they can just leave us the hell alone. For some reason, they're leaving us the hell alone. For now."

"Jesus. You really are a son of a bitch," Tweety breathes, almost in admiration.