Thanks to everyone who read the Stranger Things 3 Preview that I first posted. That was just to give people a taste of what this story is going to be like, which is why is jumps head a bit. If you're reading this than hopefully it's because you're wanting to continue the story, so let's go back to the beginning...
Six Years Ago…
3rd December, 1979
In his cell, time moved slowly.
The boy threw the yellow tennis ball against the wall. It bounced, hitting the polished tiled floor, and landing in his small, nimble hands.
There was no clock in his cell, the rhythmic bouncing of the tennis ball being the closest thing he had to a ticking clock.
Even so, when he heard the grinding of metal as the valve on his cell door was twisted open, and the Doctor stepped inside, the boy knew he was right on cue.
"Good morning, young man," the Doctor greeted him warmly, a clipboard under his arm, eyes bulging with excitement behind the lenses of his glasses - one of which was blue, the other red. "You're looking better today."
The boy threw the ball against the wall, a little more power behind this throw. It bounced again, before speeding back towards him. "What does he want this time?" he asked, his gaze not shifting from the bouncing yellow tennis ball.
He could feel the weight of the Doctor's gaze upon him. "This isn't about what he wants," he began, "this is about what your country needs."
The boy threw the ball again, more ferociously than ever before, his gaze immediately shifting to the Doctor. "And what does my country need?" he asked.
The boy stared deep into the Doctor's eyes. Behind the red and blue lenses, he saw an emotion that was typical of the Doctor.
Fear.
The Doctor watched as the ball continued to bounce; hitting the wall, then floor, then bouncing into the air again where a relentless force fired it against the wall again. This sequence looped, the Doctor's eyes following the ball in every direction until he grew irritated with the boy.
"Stop!" he barked all of a sudden.
The surprise and volume of the Doctor's voice broke the boy's concentration, and the ball dropped to the floor.
"Your country needs you, son," the Doctor explained to the boy.
The boy shook his head before hopping off of his bed. He shuffled past the Doctor and began walking down the hallway, wiping his nose along the way.
The boy sat alone in the square-shaped room, his feet dangling a few inches above the floor from the metal folding chair he was struggling to sit comfortably in.
A stainless steel table sat between him and another metal folding chair, which was empty.
Looking over his shoulder, the boy was greeted by nothing more than his own reflection, and the reflection of the room. Twice as big. Twice as empty.
Before long, the boy heard the familiar sound of grinding metal as the door in front of him swung open.
Two orderlies entered the room. The first, the boy recognized. He was an obese man with a chiseled jawline. He still wore a swollen bruise around his left eye where, less than a week ago, the boy had hurled a building block at him during one of his tests. The boy had been confined to his room ever since.
The first orderly held the door open whilst the second orderly, a muscular man with a buzzed haircut, entered the room, clutching the arm of a third man.
The third man the boy did not recognize. He was tall and skinny with a tired face riddled with pock marks and unkempt beard. He wore a grey jumpsuit, his dark hair swept to its side.
After seating the third man across the table from him, the two orderlies left.
The boy watched them leave, gulping as he heard the grinding of metal as they sealed the door behind them.
The third man leaned forward, lifting his hands, which were handcuffed, to the table, before crossing his fingers. His lips curved into a smile, and the man seemed as though he was resisting the temptation to laugh as he stared at the boy in the hospital gown opposite him. "Ty che, blyad?" he said before bursting into raucous laughter. "I always thought a child would make a better agent than any of those clowns in the CIA," he mocked, his accent thick but familiar.
"I'm not an agent," the boy replied, the Russian's laughter fading.
He leaned closer, his brow furrowed. "Then what are you?" he asked. "What's your name?"
The boy turned away from the Russian, thinking. "I don't have a name," he answered carefully.
"Everyone has a name," the Russian replied.
The boy returned the man's gaze. He leaned closer, staring deep into his large, brown eyes. "So, what's yours?"
The Russian laughed again. "Der'mo!" he cursed. "You are just another clown."
The boy stared deeper, until he was engulfed by those large, brown eyes.
At first, he saw nothing.
And then, he saw everything.
The stars glistened. Beyond them, a galaxy swirled, and the boy felt himself hurtling into it.
Suddenly, the boy saw a farm, buried beneath a coat of thick snow. Smoke billowed from the chimney of a small cottage, where two boys threw snowballs at each other. The eldest of the two boys was tall and skinny, with hair swept to its side.
The image faded as quickly as it appeared, the eldest boy had become a young man in a soldier's uniform. He wore a tunic and breeches, and a side cap atop his head, as he charged through a trench, clutching a rifle in his hands. Above him, artillery roared, and an explosion shook the trench. Young men yelled, and were buried by dust and dirt.
This image shifted, and now the young man had grown into a war hero. In a small, slickly designed room, the war hero shook hands with a large, bald man who wore a suit and tie. He removed a medal from its box, and pinned it to the war hero's jacket.
The image faded away, replaced by a pulsing light. It engulfed the boy, and soon enough he was back in the interrogation room, where the Russian was still laughing.
"Anton Bierko," said the boy, wiping a trail of blood from his nose.
The Russian's laughter ceased. Eyes narrowed, he glared at the boy. "What?"
"Everyone has a name," the boy repeated. "And that's yours." He smiled, recounting the events he'd just witnessed in his Mind's Eye. "Anton Bierko, son of Dmitri and Natalia Bierko. You had a brother, Ivan, who was three years younger than you. You used to have snowball fights on your farm," he recalled. The Russian gazing intently, listening to every word. "You enrolled when you were just sixteen years old, and your actions in the Soviet trenches along the Volkhov river earned you a medal of honor, as well as a position in the KGB."
The Russian was aghast. His jaw hung open. "How?" he asked.
The boy smiled. "What's clown without his tricks?"
The orderlies soon returned to drag the Russian out of the interrogation room. As they did so, Anton failed to take his eyes off the boy, of whose abilities he was still in awe.
After the orderlies left, with Anton in tow, a suited man stepped inside, his heels clicking against the floor. Approaching the boy, he knelt down to his height, revealing his wrinkled face and white hair.
"Good work," he said in a soft, gentle voice, before patting the boy on the back. He turned his back on the boy and went to leave the room.
With hesitation, the boy called after him. "Dr. Brenner?" he cried.
Dr. Brenner turned on his heel to face the boy. "Yes?" he asked.
"Do I have a name?" the boy asked curiously.
The Dr. paused and looked at his feet. He approached the boy, and reached out towards his arm.
The boy let the Dr. gently twist his arm, revealing the tattoo below his wrist.
"That is the only name you will ever need," Dr. Brenner answered, before turning his back on the boy and exiting the room.
The boy held his arm in front of his face, gazing at the numbers below his wrist.
005.
It was the only name he'd ever known. The only name he'd ever had.
The only name he'd ever need.
CHAPTER 1:
STAY OUT OF ROOM 7!
2nd December, 1985
When they stepped out of the movie theatre, it had begun to snow.
Jane appeared to be the only one who had taken any notice in the change of climate, however, as the others continued to argue amongst themselves about the movie they'd just watched.
"All I'm saying," Lucas began, "is that if Marty McFly ever existed, he can't just be erased from time and space. He could have sat back and done nothing, and his parents will have had to have met each other eventually. How else could he possibly still have existed?"
"You're missing the whole point!" Dustin argued. "Marty's presence in 1955 was a self-fulfilling prophecy. He was the reason his parents ever met, therefore he always had to go to the past; his whole future relied on it!"
Lucas sniggered. "But that doesn't make any sense! If his parents never fell in love at the school dance, Marty wouldn't have just been wiped from the face of the Earth!"
"Did you not see his photograph disappear?" Dustin asked in disbelief.
"You're both wrong," Mike interjected. "When Marty went back in time, his actions in 1955 didn't change the future, they created a new future altogether."
"What do you mean?" asked Will, having grown tired of Lucas and Dustin's bickering.
"I mean that you're looking at the movie's timeline like it's one straight line when, really, it's more like a whole bunch of lines pointing in all kinds of directions," Mike explained.
Lucas was taken aback, Dustin reduced to silence, and Will scratched his head.
"You guys are such losers," Max remarked, walking with her skateboard under her arm. "Can't you just enjoy the film?"
This was the first time Jane had been to see Back to the Future, whereas the rest of the party had already watched it twice at The Hawk back in July, when it was first released, with tonight's re-release being their third time seeing it.
"What did you think, El?" Mike asked her, rushing to the front of the cluster where Jane had been marching head. "Did you enjoy it?"
Jane turned to face Mike. "Yes," she answered, smiling. She took his hand, holding it tightly as they wandered down the street, and towards the bike racks.
Turning back, Jane was greeted by a tall shape towering over her. It stopped her in her tracks.
"Sorry, young lady," the homeless man apologized, his voice raspy and stinking of beer. "Didn't mean to scare ya."
The homeless man was old, his grey hair hidden beneath a black beanie. He wore a torn and dirtied trench coat, and a pair of camo pants. He carried a cardboard sign. A sentence scrawled across it in black marker pen read: THE END IS NIGH.
That gang had remained silent. Eventually, Max said, "Just get out of our way, creep."
The homeless man raised his hands and stepped to the side, letting the gang pass.
"Hope you kids enjoyed the movie!" he yelled as they wandered down the street.
"Who the hell was that?" asked Max.
"His name's Bogart," Will answered. "At least, that's what the Chief calls him. He's been sleeping rough in Hawkins for a while now."
There was a pause. "How the hell did he know we'd been to the movie theatre?"
The gang remained silent.
Jane paused, the gang passing her. She looked over her shoulder.
Bogart was watching her.
"El," Mike uttered, grabbing her hand. "Come on."
Jane and Mike walked away, and Bogart disappeared into the blizzard.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Dustin began, tapping his fingers nervously.
"Maybe we should just turn back?" Lucas suggested.
"But we're so close!" Will exclaimed.
Mike, eyes wide, brows furrowed, gazed at them from across the table. "Choose your next move carefully," he warned them. "It could be your last."
"We're out of health potions," Lucas advised. "We have to go back!"
"We can do this!" Will assured them.
Dustin leaned forward, challenging Mike's gaze. "This party's come too far to turn back now," he decided. "Do your worst," he challenged with a grin.
Mike's stare intensified. "You asked for it," he said before lifting a figurine and placing it firmly on the board. "A Wood Elf challenges you to combat!"
The rest of the party were silent. Then, in unison, they burst into raucous laughter.
"A Wood Elf?" Dustin asked between fits of uncontrolled giggling. "That's it? After seven hours, that's what we need to beat to win?"
"Will, why don't you fireball him and get this over with?" Lucas suggested before softly chuckling.
Will, grinning excitably, picked up the dice, shook them in his hands, and rolled a fifteen, which was met with a cheer from Dustin and Lucas.
Will and Dustin shared a high-five, whilst Lucas gave Will a pat on the back. It wasn't until their giggling faded that they noticed Mike's silence.
"Miss," Mike uttered from across the table.
"What?" Lucas yelled.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dustin complained. "That Wood Elf should be burnt to a crisp by now."
Mike picked up the figurine, removing it from the board, "But this is no Wood Elf," he began, before slamming another, much taller figurine on the table. "It's the Shapeshifter in another disguise!"
"Shit!" Dustin cursed, sharing a worried look with Lucas.
"What do we do now?" Will asked, panicked.
"The Shapeshifter approaches," Mike begins ominously. "He's hungry… And he'll feed only on the flesh of his foes!"
"Use a health potion!" Dustin advised.
"We don't have any!" Will reminded him.
"I knew we should have turned back!"
"The Shapeshifter has grown tired of your incessant bickering!" Mike yelled. "He slaughters your party one by one." Showing no mercy, Mike swept the other figurines from the board, leaving only the Shapeshifter standing victoriously.
"Goddammit," Dustin cursed. "What did we say, guys?" he asked the others. "We stick together, no matter what!"
Jane watched as the rest of the party apologized to each other, whilst Mike, noticing her sitting halfway up the stairs, approached her.
"El," he began, taking a seat next to her on the stairs. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Did the Shapeshifter get them?" she asked.
"Yeah," Mike answered. "It got them."
There was a pause. Jane looked down at her feet.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Mike asked her.
She turned to Mike. "Did I ever tell you about Kali?" she asked him.
Mike shook his head.
"She was like me," Jane explained. "She had… abilities." Jane turned away. Her heart sank whenever she thought about Kali, and the friends she'd left behind.
"Where is she now?" Mike asked.
"Looking for the bad men," Jane answered, turning back to Mike.
"El," Mike began, putting a hand on her knee, "the bad men are all gone," he reassured her.
Jane shook her head. "Not all."
Sat alone in her room, Jane took another deep breath before wrapping the blindfold around her head.
Darkness.
It was seemingly never ending. In every direction, there was only darkness to greet her, the sound of her feet hitting the shallow water echoing into infinity.
Over her shoulder, Jane noticed a tall figure, with its back to her.
A tall man stood, his hands behind his back, staring blankly ahead. He wore an open longcoat that fell to his knees, and his white hair shone.
"Papa," Jane uttered, approaching the man.
Dr. Brenner turned to face Jane, returning her gaze, which startled her.
He smiled cruelly before raising his hand, which began to drip with thick slime, his fingers stretching out and transforming into thick, pink tentacles.
Jane fell back into the water with a splash, and the creature stepped towards her.
Its head slid back, its mouth gaping open. Tentacles climbed from out of its mouth, wiggling uncontrollably, and dripping with slime.
Jane tried to crawl away, but slipped clumsily in the shallow water, when she felt the tentacles wrap themselves around her leg. She tugged at them, but they were too tight.
Looking up at the creature, she saw razor sharp teeth aligning mouths that were spread open like a flower petal.
The creature screeched.
Suddenly, there was light.
Jane was back in her bedroom, a familiar face in front of her.
"Jane, can you hear me?" she heard Hopper yelling, his hands on her shoulders.
Jane, catching her breath, met Hopper's eyes.
She began to cry, and fell into Hopper's arms.
"It's okay," he reassured her. "It was just a bad dream."
But Jane knew that what she'd seed had been more than just a bad dream.
What she'd seen was real.
What's she'd seen was the Shapeshifter.
'Chapter 1: Stay Out of Room 7!' continues shortly. Please leave a REVIEW in the meantime!