I wish I owned Stranger Things and all of its characters but alas... I don't own a single part of it. Sorry about the name but I am really bad at naming stories so I'm sorry.
Prologue:
It was a dark night in the city, a dark gloomy night. Not a star in the sky. The rain was pouring. So loud nobody could hear anything over it. The fog was so thick no one could see anything through it. In other words. It was a perfect night for a massacre...
It took place in a warehouse out in the very edge of the city. The part of the city where no one cared if shots were fired, or if someone was bleeding out and dying in the streets.
Soldiers rushed into the warehouse from every entrance, fully armed with full-on riot gear. The fog was everywhere, it was cold. Bone-chilling in fact. Then out of the darkness from above one of the crates, a voice was heard. Maniacal, full of empty happiness, full of insanity.
"Awwwww, all this fuss for lil ol me?"
A policeman stepped behind the line of geared policemen with a megaphone.
"Come out with your hands up, there will be no warnings. We have been ordered to shoot to kill! I will allow for ten seconds."
An amused chuckle echoed all around them.
"Oh come on… You know better than anyone that I'm not going to do that."
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two! ONE!"
Silence, even the policemen where scared. They could see nothing, they could hear nothing, they could feel nothing. Just the animal instinct deep inside that evolution has buried over millions of years screaming at them to run. Otherwise, they would die. Eyes racing, heart beating, they frantically scanned the darkness for any sign of movement. There was none.
All of a sudden a scream rang out. One of the officers was bodily thrown against several other officers. Against all their training, the officers, out of fear, started shooting randomly.
"AHHHH! PLEASE NO!"
One of the officers was dragged up to the ceiling of the warehouse kicking and screaming. The shooting stopped. Everyone looked up, straining their eyes to see something, anything! They saw nothing, the screams had gone absolutely silent. All of a sudden a few of the officers nearby the man who was dragged up got hit in the eye with a dripping liquid of some sort. Not that liquidy, but not too thick. After rubbing some of it on their hands they examined the liquid closely. Red. Blood red. It was blood. Panic spread through the ranks like a disease. All of them broke formation and ran for their lives.
"STOP! DON'T BREAK FORMATION! STAY TIGHT! KEEP CALM!" Yelled the officer with the megaphone. But to no avail, the fear ran through the policemen's veins like ice and they all ran for their lives. But not one of them managed to step a foot out of that warehouse. Not a single one. No one could hear the screams over the downpour.
*One Hour Later*
An old homeless drunkard stumbled across the warehouse looking for somewhere to take a piss.
"Damn it, all the alcohol I drank is going to come out, what a waste. What a waste."
Then he saw the warehouse.
"Ooh! This place looks nice!" but as he stepped in his shoes started to make squelching noises, as if walking in some sort of liquid. He took off his worn sandals and stared at the bottom of the soles. As his eyes adjusted he saw what it was. Blood. He looked around and fell back in terror. His face contorting in horror. Blood splattered on every inch of the place. The bodies mutilated and ripped to shreds, thrown apart. The faces of the bodies covered in blood, tears, and drool. The expressions on them twisted into expressions of fear that no man would think to be possible. As if they had all seen the devil, it was a scene from hell. Bodies stuck to the walls, arms and legs in piles, heads obliterated but you could still see the fear in their eyes and lips as if etched into their very souls. You get the idea.
The bum stood up and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, not even stopping when he threw up all the remains of his booze, not stopping when he ran into others. He stumbled over himself to get away from the scene that had been burned into the insides of his eyelids.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY! RUN! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" He cried as he went. Everyone simply assumed it was the ramblings of a drug addict that had gone out of control. When he had finally been taken away by the police he somehow managed to mumble out the address of the warehouse and a somewhat accurate description of what he had seen.
"He's a madman Joe, a drug addict! Look at his bloodshot eyes! Plus we looked at his id and he has an extensive criminal record! He's lying, I know it!" complained a policeman to another
"I know I know but we still have to go check. It's our job." Replied the other man, trying to calm his friend.
"Yeah, I know… but I'm telling you…" Muttered the first policeman.
And sure enough, when they got to the scene, there was nothing there. Not a drop of blood. Not a speck of anything that looked out of the ordinary.
"What did I tell you, Joe. What. Did. I. Tell. You!" Said the first policeman, exasperated and punctuating all of his sentences.
"Just the rambling of a madman."
And so the mumbling of the alcoholic were written off as drug-induced hallucinations and the homeless man was introduced to a recovery center for the addicted. But the very next day, he took his own life, unable to escape the nightmare that was supposedly only in his head.
In another part of the city, a young teen, maybe 14 or 15 years old was casually skipping down the streets of the city, humming happily without a care in the world. And every time he jumped his sleeve raised a tiny bit. And if you really looked at his arm, you could see just the beginning of a tattoo on his wrist. And if you really focused on it. And I mean REALLY focused on it, it almost seemed to be a number of some kind.
Far away in a place named Hawkins, Indiana, a girl that goes by the name Eleven suddenly woke from her sleep with a gasp. It took her a second to realize where she was.
"El? What is it?" Said Hopper, who was sleeping on the couch and had woken up from the sudden movement.
"I-I don't know." Said El, and she really didn't, it was a dream that was already fading away. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn't fading away at all. But was coming closer and closer. And she didn't even know it...
So this is my very first story that I have ever written so please go easy on me (although I would still like some feedback). Also, I have some questions. I don't know if I will continue this so it is pretty much all up to you guys, but if I do keep this going I want to know what abilities you want him to have (I already nailed him as the happy beserker but I could easily change that if you want as well), I have my own ideas of course but it would help if you guys could tell me your ideas too.
Basically, anything to help with the story, where do you want it to go?. Thanks so much for reading! I myself was thinking that he could be number 6 or something (one person said that he could be number 12 who was created to kill 11 which I thought was really cool so I might do that), but if multiple people vote against it or someone comments a better idea then I will do something else. Please feel free to comment your ideas on how you want it to go. Thanks.