Summary: Mike and Eleven have ultimately reunited since they lost each other a year back in a classroom where the lights flickered and a nightmare came to life. They have finally found a beautiful moment to cherish their bond, but a monster from Eleven's past has finally awakened and had taken a vow to take back what is rightfully it's. Can Mike celebrate the most crucial day in Eleven's life properly before the world ends?

Episode 1: Justice

Prologue

"Tell that story again," the little boy clapped his hands in excitement.

"Again? Okay!" The old man smiled.

He slowly sat beside the boy and spoke in a rumbling voice, "One day, somewhere up in the sky, somewhere far away from here, a name was written amongst the stars even before it had a soul. It burnt fiercely and bathed the cosmos with blinding light."

He paused a moment and then continued, "But the Star was sad because like all other heavenly bodies it was destined to die alone in the vast cosmos."

"But it never noticed a fiery comet that was streaking towards it through the cosmos, leaving a violet light in its wake," an old woman uttered the names as she joined them.

The boy's eyes went wide with awe even though he had heard the story many times, "I know those names, they are..."

The old man interjected, "You know the names boy. But do you know what they stood for? You don't have the slightest clue."

Act I: The Past

"That'll be a dollar and fifty, Miss," the shopkeeper laid a small parcel on the counter.

"Miss?"

The slender women standing in front of the counter jerked her head towards the man in surprise. She was lost in thoughts that undoubtedly made her happy. The woman smiled absently and then carefully picked the parcel up in her hands.

"Here, keep the change," she gave a note to the man and started walking towards the door. A small photo frame caught her attention as she was about the open the door. She picked it up in her hand and scrutinized it as if she was thinking about making a purchase. The shopkeeper bent forward and looked at the woman; "Only a dollar, Miss. Very hardy frame, won't break that easy."

The woman nodded and came to the counter to make the payment, 'It was perfect.' The man took the photo frame from her hands and started wrapping it in a blue colored paper. Just before making the payment, the woman asked, "Excuse me, what's the time?"

"Sorry Miss, the clock stopped working since yesterday. Tried changing batteries. Still, the damn hands are stuck at 10.59. I reckon they still tell the time correctly twice a day," the man laughed. The woman gave a shrug and handed the man a note. This time she took the change.

At the same time, somewhere far away from the store, a black sedan was cruising smoothly through the busy traffic as it made its way to an unknown destination. Two people sitting at the back were going through an old file, its age could be guessed from the worn-out cover that had lost its original color.

"There!" the man pointed to a photograph that was apparently taken a long time ago. The women sitting beside him picked up the picture and studied it carefully. It was too old to notice all the details, there were cracks all over the paper, but an object caught the woman's attention.

"You sure we can't find it?" The woman was curious. It looked like a straightforward item, old but simple.

"I'm sure. I've tried, and I've failed, I tracked one of them outside the country last year but lost it at the end."

"There's more than one?"

"We commissioned two of them, one for use and another for backup. It was dangerous to create more as it could have led to a loss of control." The man knew what he was talking about.

"Okay, so there are two of these, you lost yours..."

The man fanned his palm in front of his face in irritation, "It was an accident, I kept it in a very secure place."

"Uh huh, so the other …."

"...is at our destination." The man didn't let her finish, "It's at a safe place, apparently hidden from the world."

"But there's another one outside the country, didn't you say there were only two?" there was an alarm in the woman's voice.

"No, the one I tracked last year was probably mine, it was probably procured by someone who will never understand it's true value. Still, I have no clue how it went around half the world."

"Can't you just make a copy? You said you remembered the details, how hard can it be? It's not rocket science." The woman was clearly irritated with the car ride.

"I remember it as if its right in front of me, I know how it looks, how much it weighs, how tall or short it is, how it feels like holding it. I KNOW IT BECAUSE I FUCKING MADE IT." The man screamed out the last words.

But a moment later he composed himself and sighed, "A duplicate won't do. I know how it works. We're going to retrieve the second and the last remaining one. End of discussion." the finality in the man's voice was audible.

On the other side of the city, the slender woman was strolling along the road that led to her destination. She was almost running, but the truth was that she actually felt like dancing. It had been so long since she had felt such happiness. She turned the curve and then suddenly stopped in front of a flower shop. A beautiful bouquet of bright flowers caught her attention. She went to the florist and asked him to make her a smaller one. The man looked at her in surprise, the bouquet was an odd choice for the event which the woman spoke of, but she was determined to get it. She told the florist to keep the change. Before leaving, she requested the florist to add one more flower to the bouquet, again a strange choice. It was nothing critical, nothing that cost extra money but it was something that made her happy and left the florist baffled.

The black sedan was idling in front of the red light, engines growling as if a hound on the hunt was leashed by its master. People crossed the road in a serpentine line. A couple walked by the windshield. The guy carried an almost brand-new camera while the girl carried a folder in her arms. The couple was smiling at each other as they crossed the street. The men bent forward to get a good look through the windshield, he eyed the couple as they crossed the street. The woman was curious, "What's up? Know these two?" The man didn't answer the question. He comfortably sat back and opened the file. His eyes were fixated on the photograph.

The slender woman finally reached home. She had to walk a long way to get here, but she was happy because it was worth the journey. Maybe she'll repair the car once she had enough money. Now that the bad times were over, anything could be possible. She fumbled the key and inserted it in the lock at the fifth attempt as her hands kept shaking. She opened the door, went inside and pushed the door behind her. At first glance, it appeared as if the house was empty, but it won't be for long. She smiled, today was a beautiful day, and she would ensure everything goes according to her plan.

'Her dreams would come true today.'

She placed her bag on the table and went straight to the kitchen, all the while humming a song that crept into her mind, 'Summertime' by Ella Fitzgerald. A moment later, she picked a plate from the utensils rack and proceeded to unpack the small box that she had purchased. The box was packed a bit too thoroughly. She spent some time patiently removing the tapes, brought out a small item from that box and placed it at the center of the plate. The item had a unique text inscribed on the top that would have made no sense to anyone. In fact, if people knew the true purpose of the item, they would have rolled their eyes at the stupidity. But she smiled and thought, 'It's perfect, just perfect.' Once the preparations were complete, she left the kitchen and moved upstairs to execute the next steps of her small but grand plan. She kept humming 'Summertime,' as she reached a room at the end of a corridor and turned the latch. With barely contained excitement she opened the door and stepped into unmade memories. Tears came to her eyes as she realized that those memories were no longer just a fragment of her imagination, they had already been made by someone else. She opened a wardrobe and took out a photo that had not seen the light of the day in a rather long time. But it was time to assign it to its rightful place in this house. She carefully cleaned the photo and placed it in the frame that she had bought today.

The black sedan cruised smoothly through the last stretch of the highway and entered a small lane that led to a sleepy neighborhood. The man suddenly closed the file and peeked outside, it had been a lifetime since he was last here. He tried to think about the last time, there were memories, but they were neither happy nor sad. He sighed and nodded at the woman sitting beside him. In response, the woman picked up a small briefcase and placed it on her lap.

The slender woman placed the plate and the photo on a small tea table in the middle of the room. Then she went outside and returned with the bouquet, it was out of the packaging and was now resting in an old flower vase. The flower vase had a sinuous black line wrapped around its base. She grinned at the figure sitting in front of her, "Today is a good day, in fact, I'd say today is the second-best day of our lives!"

Suddenly the bell rang, and the woman glanced back in irritation. She kept hoping that the person would go away, but to her dismay, the bell kept ringing.

She sighed, "I'll be right back."

The women went to the door and noticed that the chain was dangling from the hook. Did she forget to put it back after her arrival? But today was a good day so nothing could go wrong. She opened the door and noticed two persons standing outside. A man and a woman stood in the shadows, they were well dressed and carried a certain sense of authority. She switched on the porch light to get a better look at them and then her heart stopped. She remembered the man, in fact, she recognized the man as if they had met yesterday. He represented a forgotten past that was written in blood. She slammed the door on them and ran back to the room to dial a number.

A moment later two muffled sounds rang in the air, and two moments later the door crashed open as the man and women entered the house and made their way to the room. The woman dialed the last digit of the number from her recent memory when she heard another muffled sound. She was suddenly hit by a powerful force that threw her onto the carpet. The receiver flew away from her hand and crashed into the wall then came to rest beside her head.

It took her a moment to realize that her back was on fire. It felt as if someone had inserted a glowing hot rod between her ribcage and was twisting it around to find where her heart was. Tears flooded her vision as she tried her best to crawl forward. But it was too painful, and she couldn't breathe anymore. Suddenly she felt a strange liquid with metallic taste coming up her throat, it chocked her windpipe, and she gasped to take breaths.

Something rattled within her, and she glanced upward and focused her eyes on the table. She saw the plate, the photo and the flowers, and the indistinctive figure sitting behind them. With a shock, she realized that she would die today. But she needed to save the person sitting on the chair at all costs. She gritted her teeth in desperation and used the last bit of her remaining strength to turn her head around and came face to face with the man with white hair and a black suit.

"Hello, Becky!" Dr. Martin Brenner greeted her in a pleasant tone.

At that instant in time, somewhere not far away from that city, a boy named Mike Wheeler was standing under a torrent of water. The steady stream of water rained down from above and washed away the soap that covered his body. He ran his hands all over his body to clean the soap as best as he could. Suddenly he winced in pain as his hands touched the back of his thigh. There was a knot there, right where a bullet from a silenced 22 cal. had entered the leg and then proceeded to puncture a major artery. The wound had bled severely which put his body in a shock and then his heart just stopped working. Mike should've been dead, but then a girl with magic powers jumpstarted his heart and saved his life. It was a medical marvel but the crazy fact was that she was not a doctor, she was a thirteen-year-old kid with some ordinary telekinetic powers. That was supposed to be an impossible task, but Mike Wheeler always believed in impossibility. His belief saved him that day, and another day, and another day before that. In fact, he lost the count of times Eleven had saved his life. He also knew that Eleven will save him the next day, the day after that, and another day after that. He wasn't ashamed about that fact. Boys in school would laugh at the news that Mike Wheeler needed a girl to save his weak ass. But he knew something few else in the world knew. He knew that he had saved Eleven many times, from herself.

Mike turned the knob to stop the shower and used the towel to dry himself. Then he put on some nightclothes and went back to his room where his mother was sitting on his bed. She kissed her boy and then left the room. He lied in bed and started thinking about Eleven. He had not seen her for a long time. After he was released from the hospital, he was put under house arrest by Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, who were actually Nazis under disguise in his opinion. Mike knew that he was absolutely fine, but the wound in his leg would still burn at times. And his family was determined about not buying a new cycle for him, especially after he crashed the earlier one on his way back from the Snowball.

Hopper, the local police chief, was a crazy bastard, and unfortunately, he was also Eleven's father. Sometime after the ordeal, he had taken Eleven back to the cabin and had not let her come out as well, 'House Arrest.' Mike wondered if she even understood what the term meant. But she also needed rest just like he did. While he was fighting for his life on the streets of Hawkins, Eleven was fighting a battle with herself to save her soul. Eleven still visited him sometimes in his dreams, but it had been a long time since he had run his hands through her 'Poofy' hair or kissed her. The thought made him blush.

Mike had kissed Eleven a total of four times. Thrice under proper circumstances, once under tremendous pressure when Eleven was about to snap the neck of the man who had shot Mike on that fateful night. It didn't matter, the kisses were still fantastic. But still not as much amazing as Eleven, and her beautiful smile and fluffy cheeks, Mike smiled. Suddenly there was a knock at his window, and Mike's heart stopped for a moment.

He looked up, fully expecting to see a man climbing inside with a wicked looking gun and taking aim at him. Then he saw the most incredible sight he had ever seen. The ranking changed from time to time, but this was a fantastic sight indeed. Eleven, the girl from his dreams was sitting on the window, flashing a smile that defeated the sun and dangling her legs freely below the pane. 'What the fuck?' Oh, it was a dream after all. Then he got up and reached the window.

Eleven jumped down and hugged him tightly. He instinctively ran his hand through her hair. It was so 'Poofy,' he needed that shampoo to try himself. She smelled like Strawberries. A few seconds later she left the embrace and studied him with her big soulful eyes.

"Hello, Mike!"

"Umm, it's you, right? It's not a dream?"

"Why would this be a dream?"

"Okay, you are sitting on my window at 11 PM, and it's not a dream. Is Hopper okay?" Mike was alarmed. There was no way Hopper would have let her out of the house at night.

"He's right there." Eleven pointed towards the sliver of pavement that was visible from his window.

Suddenly Mike had a sinking feeling inside his stomach. He remembered a lecture given by Mr. Clarke one day. He was explaining about ancient humans who had developed different hunting techniques. One of the key turning points was the invention of traps. The ancient humans would dig a giant hole in the ground, place some leaves to cover it up and put some food on the top. When the animal came to eat the food, they would drop straight into the hole and then the humans would kill it by throwing stones and arrows.

'Barbarians.'

Mike looked out the window and saw a direct line of sight to the pavement, a police van was waiting there. He swallowed and tried to see inside the car. 'Is that a gun?'

Eleven looked at Mike and laughed heartily, "He brought me here, he told me to check up on you."

Okay, Mike was now sure about three possible scenarios.

First, he was in a dream.

Second, he was dead and had somehow managed to get into heaven.

Third, Hopper was actually a psychopath who was laying a trap to justify shooting Mike since he had kissed his daughter in front of him, on the lips.

It was the third, he told himself. Then he looked at Eleven and was taken aback. Her eyes glittered in the faint light that was coming from the window.

"Eleven?"

"Mike, today is my birthday!"