[Continues from Arc III Redemption but can be read as standalone]

Prologue

[November 1982 - Area Seven]

A group of shadows silently jogged through a labyrinth of pillars buried almost half a kilometer underground in a classified location somewhere in the continental United States of America. Incandescent halogen lamps lined along the ceiling showered the area with a ghastly blue light which was crisscrossed by the shadows extending from the tall pillars that gave birth to a two-dimensional fabric of darkness on the ground.
The group consisted of about twenty men who had no nationality, no language and most importantly, no fear for life. About two hours ago, a series of clandestine airdrops had brought the ragtag crew together near an unmarked airfield a kilometer away from the site. From there, the men had been driven to this facility by civilian vehicles and finally deployed in this cavern to achieve a straightforward objective.

The leader was a former Russian Spetsnaz commando who was responsible for the downfall of at least half a dozen dictatorships in sub-Saharan Africa. His real name was Markov, but in the world of mercenaries, he was better known as Akula, a nickname that was a testament to his ability to move through combat fields undetected like a shark. Following his guidance, the group had slowly spread out through the maze and had encircled a location which contained the objective.
Markov took cover behind a pillar, pressed a small button on his headset and spoke almost silently, "Ready positions. Target dead ahead, about a hundred meters to north-east."
A series of radio clicks echoed through Markov's receiver, he counted the pings one by one until he stopped at eighteen.
'Impossible,' he thought. A few minutes before deployment, he had counted nineteen pings which including his own brought the group strength to twenty.

Markov pinged the radio again, "Come in Sasha, you there?"
There was no response. A few seconds later he called again, "Positions."
Then he counted the pings carefully once again until this time, it stopped at seventeen. 'Shit,' He cursed and shouted through the radio, "Engage," as gunfire shattered the silence inside the room. Markov focused on the receiver to make sense out of the frantic chatter coming from his teammates.

"To the left. TO THE LEFT. MOV...arrghh" the shout turned into raspy breathing, and another voice took its place, "IT'S STOPPING THE BULLETS, HOLY S…"
"WATCH OUT... MOVING TOO FAST…"
"...IT'S GOT... MILLER… FUCKING FLYING…"
"...JUST A…"
"... BLEEDING… STILL MO…"
"... GRENADE!..."
A loud explosion rocked the cavernous room as concrete dust flew everywhere and darkened the void for a few seconds.

'FUCK THIS!', Markov waited for the dust to settle and then shouldered his rifle and dashed through the corner just in time to see one of his teammates flying straight towards him in reverse. He dodged the body in the nick of time as the screaming man shot past him and crashed into a concrete pillar with a sickening crunch.
'What the hell have they cooked up in this hellhole?' Markov turned left and saw two commandos moving forward while firing their SMGs at some unknown enemy. Suddenly, one of them abnormally stopped for a second, as if his progress was halted by an invisible puppet master. Then with a scream, he flew straight towards the ceiling and crashed into one of the bright halogens that sent sparks flying everywhere. The other man dived towards his left to take shelter behind a concrete pillar, he reached the location but didn't even get a second to enjoy the safety. He was suddenly lifted a few feet up in the air and then pulled by some ungodly force towards the column which ended up crushing the man, flesh, bone and all into a splatter on the concrete. It looked as if the man was crushed in a gigantic anvil.

Markov swiftly moved into the shadow of a pillar to hide from the unseen yet near omnipotent enemy. He wasn't a coward, but at the same time, he wasn't suicidal either. Whatever weapon they had conceived inside this purgatory was a lot worse than anything he had faced in his entire life, but most importantly, he wasn't sure if he was even fighting a human anymore. A few minutes passed as the gunfire died down one by one, often followed by cries that never reached completion.

Then there was momentary silence. Markov gripped the Kalashnikov with his sweaty hands and slowly peeked behind the column. The broken halogen still sent sparks flying as it swayed from the earlier impact. In that maze of oscillating light and shadow, he saw a short figure walking towards him in small but confident steps. He immediately withdrew behind the pillar and took a few deep breaths. The humanoid appeared unarmed, but it was evident that it didn't require any weapons. Markov set the firing pin to auto and bent his arm around the pillar to take a shot, but something jammed the firing pin, and he couldn't pull the trigger no matter how hard he tried. There were no options left, Markov dropped the rifle, took out a handgun and then exited the cover in one swift motion and took aim at the figure standing right in front of him.

This time also, he couldn't pull the trigger, but unlike the previous time, he didn't even try. The weapon fell from his hands when he laid eyes on the small figure standing in the shadows right in front of him.
"You? WHAT ARE YOU?" Markov shouted at the apparition as it raised its right arm. Then a millionth of a second later, his spinal cord shattered into hundreds of pieces as his head was rotated beyond its natural confines and then silence drew the veil on the battlefield for one last time.

The Alloy

[Present Day - Hawkins, Indiana]

Jim Hopper had never considered himself to be a very fortunate person. Looking back at this track record of failures, he often wondered what he had done to deserve such an amazing daughter as Eleven, the girl who had locked herself in her room about an hour ago. Of course, Hopper had predicted something like this might happen when he had settled the decision to ground his daughter tonight. But to his utter surprise, Eleven had merely withdrawn to her room instead of blowing their small wooden cabin to kingdom come.

Hopper knew that he couldn't have blamed Eleven even if she destroyed the cabin with her psionic endowments because tonight, he not only prevented her from going to the celebration of her dreams but actually obstructed a reunion that was foreshadowed by the heavens above. A lifetime ago, Eleven had broken out of her prison and had fled into the arms of a boy named Mike Wheeler who promised to take her to the Snowball. Then Fate shattered the commitment by tearing apart the bond that connected Mike with Hopper's daughter until it was reforged almost a year later when the Gods finally intervened and shielded Eleven from her doom.

Hopper was actually looking forward to the Snowball, but then a few shadowy figures outside the School's stadium changed his perspective and forced him to accept the decision. But destiny was not done yet. Hopper was lost in thoughts about the implication of his choice when a powerful ally from the past appeared at his door and absolved him from his gravest sin yet. And now that old geezer was slouching on the couch and sipping a can of cold beer.

Hopper could still recall the day he had met that old geezer in Elma's café. About a few hours before Eleven closed the interdimensional gate, he had rescued that man on a hunch which had turned out to be a correct decision after all. A few weeks later, Dr. Sam Owens handed him a birth certificate for Eleven that proclaimed her to be the daughter of Jim Hopper; it said 'Jane Hopper, daughter of Terry Ives and Jim Hopper.' While the truth was that only one of those declarations was true, but Hopper didn't complain at all, gift horses were indeed his weakness.

He was about to leave the cafe that day when Dr. Owens called him back and asked an ironic query, "How's the nosebleed now?"
Hopper was shocked, he hissed through his teeth, "How?"
"I'm a doctor, Hopper. I also saw her files. Sit down, I have a proposal for you."
Then Dr. Owens gave Hopper two unique propositions, one of them was to become the family doctor of the Hopper family, the second was a small glass vial containing a prototype medicine that was designed to reduce hemorrhage in the brain.
"For the nosebleed, it could kill her you know?" Dr. Owens sighed and sipped his coffee.

"You have no clue doc, you have no clue," Jim swallowed as he recalled the night when Jane 'Eleven' Hopper was killed by her own powers while closing the Gate through which a Titan was about to enter the human realm. She had used too much of her powers to achieve that impossible feat and then she had bled from her nose, ears, and mouth, and later died. But the only problem with that statement was that she didn't leave the mortal realm. Mike Wheeler, a boy who believed in the impossible, the boy who had sheltered Eleven from her fate, brought her back to the world of living with nothing but pure conviction and limitless innocence.

"Jim? You listening?"
Hopper returned to reality and saw Dr. Owen's hand in front of his own. He took the vial and shook hands with the kind man. Then he told Dr. Owens where to find the father-daughter pair if he ever needed to see them, another hunch which also turned out to be correct.

Back in the present, standing inside his cabin, Hopper carefully weighed the package that Dr. Owens had thrown at him a few seconds ago. It contained something soft and lightweight, something like a dress for Eleven to wear to the Snowball tonight. Hopper stared at Dr. Owens with a rush of questions in his mind, but he didn't need to speak.

"I had to make an educated guess about her size. I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't have a daughter," Dr. Owens answered the unasked question with some distress.
Hopper thanked the man and walked to the door to his daughter's room, but stopped there for a while and then looked behind. He traced the imaginary path from the door all the way to to the opposite wall of the cabin. It was mostly empty, save for Dr. Owens who had gotten up from the couch and was standing near the wall now.

"Uh, you might want to move, Doc," Hopper spoke in a serious tone, "Clear a path."
Dr. Owens was dumbfounded, but he complied anyway. Hopper braced himself and then knocked the door two times and gently called out, "Hey El, we're getting late," and immediately took cover beside the exit.
In response, the door flew out of the frame and crashed into the wall on the opposite side, missing Dr. Owens by a hair's breadth. Hopper made an I-told-you-so face and peeked into the room.

Eleven was standing right in front of the empty door frame, and she looked furious. Hopper sighed, 'Puberty!' and slowly walked inside the room with the package concealed behind his back.
Eleven glared at him and asked in a cold tone, "Late for what?"
"Late for your Snowball," Hopper replied slowly as he revealed the package and held it in front of his daughter.
Eleven froze, and a sequence of expressions played on her face one by one; disbelief, hope, shock, acceptance and then finally happiness. She beamed at him like a thousand suns and came running to hug him. Hopper laughed as his daughter buried her head in his broad chest and shouted, "THANK YOU, DAD."

A few minutes later, Eleven let go and snatched the package from Hopper's outstretched hands and proceeded to unwrap it. Hopper gently put a hand on her shoulder and expressed, "I'm sorry Eleven. Please remember to thank Dr. Owens on your way out."
Suddenly Eleven's shoulders went stiff as she peeked into the package. Slowly, she turned her head towards Hopper and cried out, "But I look horrible. My hair, my face, Mike will think I'm not Pretty!"
'Damn it, Wheeler!' Hopper cursed quietly, he was pissed off at this Wheeler kid for setting such high standards for his daughter but now was not the time to strangulate his daughter's partner for the dance.
"Get ready, we'll see about the makeup on the way," Hopper replied and ran out of the room. Within a second, the detached door resting against the wall was pulled back and secured against the doorframe by an invisible force.

Hopper found Dr. Owens comfortably munching an Eggo that he had found in the refrigerator. He shouted, "Fuck! You too? Is everyone from that hellhole addicted to Eggos? Are you secretly working for Kellogg's?"
Dr. Owens didn't bother answering the question. He was now rummaging through the cabinet containing the prototype medicine designed to regulate Eleven's intracranial hemorrhage. He knew that Eleven might be needing it sooner than Hopper expected. He found the vial without much difficulty and then placed another small bottle beside the older one. This one had a different purpose, one which Hopper wasn't aware of, but the mere thought of it terrified Dr. Owens to his core. But sometimes difficult choices had to be made.

Dr. Owens closed the cabinet and came face to face with Hopper.
"You're a doctor, right? You have studied medicine?"
"Uhm, yes," Dr. Owens appeared puzzled as he answered the somewhat stupid question.
"Plastic surgery?"
"No, but I do know my way around skin…"
"Great. Do you know how to put on makeup?" The desperation was evident in Hopper's voice.
"You are an absolute Buffoon, how did you become the chief of police? Did you murder the previous fool?"
"Damn it," Hopper shouted and dashed towards the telephone but then froze as the doorbell rang.
He slowly looked at Dr. Owens. He was still busy with the Eggo and spoke with a mouthful, "Remember Jim? I studied psychiatry, I'm very good at figuring people and their needs. So..."
Hopper reached the door and yanked it open and then gasped loudly. Whatever he saw in front put him at a complete loss for words, so he merely grinned like a child as Joyce walked in with a bag and a suppressed laughter of her own.
Hopper suddenly felt like hugging someone, and the only two people available were that old geezer and this graceful woman standing right in front of him, it was an easy choice. He embraced Joyce tightly for a few seconds, and it felt so different.

More than two decades ago a young man just like him and a young woman just like her had embraced each other just like this in a room completely different from the one in which they were standing now, but to both Hopper and Joyce, it felt so familiar.

"Where's Eleven?" Joyce asked Hopper.
In response, he pointed a shaky finger towards the door which was being held in its place by magic. He was feeling a bit afraid for Joyce who confidently walked ahead and knocked the door with three taps. This time the door was pulled inwards. Joyce smiled at the nervous girl standing in front of her and walked into the room and out of Hopper's sight. The door was pushed back into its frame a few seconds later.

Hopper sat down beside Dr. Owens and breathed a sigh of relief. The elderly physician finished the Eggo and took a sip of beer. Then he looked at Hopper and saw the faint smile lingering on his face. He was enjoying the experience of being a father, a chance that Dr. Owens had received and then squandered away.
'Oliver! Please forgive me.'

"You know something, Jim?" Dr. Owens whispered to the old veteran.
"What?" Hopper replied casually, he was not interested in wisdom because he was thinking about the Snowball, 'Mike Wheeler better come today or I'll lock him up in this cabin too.'
"You're a good father, you always were, and you always will be," Dr. Owens paused for a second to collect his thoughts and continued, "Your daughter, Eleven, is a special girl. She has a gift, but that's not her specialty."
Hopper was mildly interested now, he looked Dr. Owens who kept speaking, "Her special ability is to change those around her and make them believe. You have no idea what a little bit of belief can do to a man who has lost everything. But this world doesn't like those who believe. The world hates them, they are scared of them, they want to squash them."
Hopper suddenly furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but the old man continued, "A time will come when you have to make a choice, Jim. A choice that'll be worse than death, I'm sorry," Dr. Owens finished his monologue and closed his eyes.
Hopper suddenly became aware of his heartbeat as it reached into triple digits. He suppressed a growl and shouted, "WHAT?"

"Have you ever seen a sword, Jim? Not an ornamental one, but a used one?" Dr. Owens didn't let him answer and kept speaking, "The sword is a mighty and versatile weapon. Back in the medieval times, it was the weapon of choice for the legendary knights who used it to protect their kingdoms."
Hopper was tired of riddles, he glared at the cryptic man with murderous intent in his eyes. Dr. Owens sighed and looked away as he spoke, "They made the sheath after making the sword, you know why?"
"So, the sword would not cut the men carrying them?" Hopper took a guess.
"That's one point of view. But in my opinion, it was created to protect the blade. See, a sword is a fantastic weapon, it could slice through flesh and bones with utmost ease. But it could not fight the elements, it could not fight the wear and tear, it could not fight the small bumps it took when crashing against rocks and metal. Over time these small damages ended up building the stress and weakening the sword until it broke. So, they made a protector for their swords."
"Your point being?" Hopper was getting tired of the monologues now.

"Eleven is a sword Jim, she was forced to become one. But they never made a sheath for her, they probably forgot, but most probably they never gave a damn."
Hopper bent forward dropped the can of beer he had picked up some time ago. He spoke angrily, "Listen. I don't have a single fucking clue about what you're saying, Shakespeare. Why don't you cut the crap and speak like a normal human being for a change?"
"Eleven fuels her power with her rage, Jim. But every time she engages her abilities, the sword bumps against the rock. Every time she is pissed off, the sword brushes against a plate of armor. Every time she yells, the sword hits a hard floor. How long until it breaks?"
"What if she never used her powers again?" Hopper was sure that it would be impossible.
"A sword that is never drawn? You amuse me, Jim," Dr. Owens spoke as he also bent forward and whispered in Hopper's ears, "Armageddon is coming my friend. You have only one sword. It will be drawn, oh it will be drawn alright."
'FUCK!' Hopper looked at Dr. Owens and thought, 'What does he know?'

"THEN WHERE IS THE GODDAMN SHEATH?" Hopper shouted at the riddler.
"Do you believe in God, Jim?"
Hopper didn't, not since Sarah passed away but now he believed in Eleven, and Mike and all those who surrounded her and protected her from her fate.
"No, I don't."
Dr. Owens articulated calmly, "I believe when they were busy making the sword, God was busy making the sheath. You just have to find it. No, Eleven NEEDS to find it before someone destroy..."

The door to Eleven's room burst open and cut off Dr. Owen's speech halfway. He and Hopper turned their head and saw Eleven walking out of her room with a graceful glow that made even the lights in the room look pale in comparison. She looked absolutely gorgeous tonight. She was wearing a blue dress covered with pink spots that adorned the front and glittered under the light. It was a bit oversized, but Hopper prayed that Eleven wouldn't notice and he was sure that he would strangle Mike if he even remotely indicated that during their dance.

Joyce was standing right behind her with a proud smile on her face. She winked at Hopper, and he grinned and jumped up from the couch to greet the two most important woman in his life. After coming close, he noticed more changes in Eleven's appearance. She had her hair fluffed up, it had more volume and no longer appeared shaggy. Joyce had managed to put a light shade of eyeliner around Eleven's big dark eyes, and they carried a certain depth that Hopper had not seen in any other girl of her age. There was a tinge of pink eyeshadow on her eyelids, it looked totally 'Bitchin,' but in a cute way. Hopper smiled inside as he realized that his daughter looked beautiful, and she would turn a lot of heads tonight.

One of them would be a boy who had waited over a year for this day. Hopper thought about Mike, he was not a very popular kid in school, and he called himself a loser.
'Wait till the others see your date, Wheeler. You would be the luckiest guy in entire Hawkins tonight,' Hopper thought and muttered, "And You deserve her in all her glory, Mike. Because you had saved her, even when I couldn't."
Then he wrapped his giant arms around both the girls as they laughed together, free from all the tragedy of their past lives.

The three of them didn't notice the frown on Dr. Owens face. He smiled sadly at the family and whispered to them, "Remember this moment, Hoppers."

"Remember the innocence of the sword when it finally ravages this world."

A/N: As some of you are aware that Unsheathed is and will probably remain one of my most favorite stories. A lot of material was created for the first launch but very few made into the final cut which was rather unpolished. Here's the first chapter of a complete rework of the epic fic. There will be new material like the prologue in every chapter going forward. If you like my stories, please provide feedback.