Summary: "Eyes on fire

Your spine is ablaze

Felling any foe with my gaze"

- "Eyes on Fire" by Blue Foundation

A/N: Merry Spooktober my little gremlins! I hope you enjoy this particularly gruesome chapter!

DISCLAIMER:This is a work of fiction. As the author I do not always agree with the actions the characters take. The MC has Haphephobia. The depiction of such in the story may not be entirely accurate and I do not claim it to be so. The depictions of anxiety and OCD are based on my own personal experience and do not apply to the illnesses as a whole. As always there is a violence and gore warning. There will be mentions of various sensitive topics which are updated in the tags, read at your own risk.


November 12, 1983

The drive to the Ives residence had been a long one. So long that Pam had begun to regret leaving, especially since they'd promised not to leave Madison alone again. But Hop… What he'd said about Mandy's death, about this Ives woman… Even about Madison, she had to find answers.

Especially because of her sister.

Ten years her junior, Coral had always been indulged and babied. It hadn't made Pam love her any less, but it came as no surprise to her when Coral got mixed up in hallucinogens and other drugs. Or that she ended up pregnant.

She lost the baby, miscarried, the doctors told them. Coral was too hopped up on pain medication and anything else she could get her hands on to notice. But when she did, she sank into a deep depression and eventually overdosed.

Though they weren't close in their adult years, Pam felt the loss keenly. For the longest time, guilt wracked her. What could she have done to help? To prevent this from happening to her baby sister? Through the years, she came to realize there was nothing she herself could have done to help her sister.

But after Hop's story about this Ives woman… Maybe there was something she could have done. Madison – Mads – had mentioned the name "Brenner" as well. Said her mother conceived her undergoing MKUltra testing and that Brenner was observing the operation. That, and Mads had been kidnapped when she was an infant. Just born.

Maybe the same thing had happened to her sister as it did to Mads' mother and Terry Ives. Perhaps she still had a niece out there, held captive by this mad doctor and the government.

That was why she left Mads. Jake was willing to check in on them, and resourceful enough to find them if they weren't at the farm – if he could stay awake long enough. And Mads' friends cared too much about her to let anything bad happen to her again. Even if the forces that wanted her were from a different dimension.

Her mind was still reeling from that revelation.

The poor dear.

When they reached the Ives residence the next morning, Pam was the only one unsurprised to find Terry in a catatonic state under the care of her sister. It was similar to what happened to Coral before she died.

Hop was insistent on talking to Terry, but quickly realized she wouldn't be any help. He then set in on the sister, Becky, who explained the whole story in full, which they gleaned nothing new from. Becky obviously didn't believe her sister.

Something that filled Pam with irritation and guilt because she hadn't believed hers either.

The lights in the little nursery began to flicker softly as Becky rambled on - comparing Terry's lucid stories to Stephen King novels. Pam was instantly reminded of Mads' panic attacks. Quickly, she hurried from the room without a word to her husband or Hop and Joyce. The flickers lead her all the way down the stairs and into the living room where Terry sat in front of the tv. Then, without warning, the channel switched to static.

"Ms. Ives," Pam whispered, taking a hesitant step forward.

"Cora," Terry mumbled. "Coralline. Two girls, lost. Lost."

"What?" Pam asked, rushing to the woman's side. Cora had been her sister's nickname. Coralline was what she joked about naming her daughter if she ever had one.

"Jane," Terry murmured.

"Yes, Jane was your little girl. She wasn't miscarried, was she?" Pam prodded gently.

"Three to the left, two to the right… Rainbow. Cora. Rainbow. Coralline. Rainbow."

Mads had mentioned something about a rainbow… rainbow something. Rainbow room! Could Terry be talking about the same room? It had to be…

"Rainbow… angel. Coralline… angel."

"What's going on?" Becky exclaimed, hurrying into the room. "I've never heard her say that before. She always mumbles the same thing over and over again, but never that."

"Cora," Terry's eyes met Pam's for a moment before glazing over again. The tv switched back to its original channel.

"That was…" Pam started, throat closing up around a lump.

"That was Coral's nickname…" Jamie said softly, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder.

Pam looked enough like her sister that they were often mistaken for twins as adults, despite the age difference. Terry must have recognized her and thought she was Coral. Her hunch had been right, Coral's baby had been taken by this "Dr. Brenner". And if she had, maybe she had escaped the massacre Mads recounted. Maybe she could find the girl… She had to be about Mads' age.

"Jamie," Pam whispered, turning to look up at her husband. "We need to get back home!"

"You finished here Hop?" Jamie asked, turning to the forgotten Chief.

He nodded his answer, thanked Becky and Terry, and headed toward the front door. Joyce did the same. But before Pam stood to leave, she found Terry staring at her once more, clarity filling her vacant eyes.

"Not. Angel."

Pam knew at once what she meant. Nodding, she rushed out the door to Hop's cruiser, Jamie hot on her heels. She had to get home to her girl before something bad happened. She couldn't bear to lose another.


Mads refused to do El's makeup like hers and Tris'. She was too young for the theatrical and sultry way theirs was done up. Nonetheless, El was pleased with the final result, declaring herself pretty while running her hand over her shorn scalp.

"It'll grow," Eddie reassured her. "Not that you need it; it looks cool on you. But I had my head buzzed like yours, and so did Mads. Now look at us!"

He shook his flowing locks at her, tickling her cheeks and nose until she giggled. The sound was gleeful and musical, causing all three teens to laugh right along with her.

Eddie was good, kind, even to weird little kids. Especially to weird little kids because who else would be, if not him? It usually went one of two ways – the kid freaking out because "ooh, creepy stranger", or the way El was reacting now. Gleeful, happy.

Mads was grateful for that. Grateful he didn't tuck tail and run that day in the woods; no one could blame him if he had. There's no shame in running, specifically when a girl with blood on her face nearly rips you apart with her mind. But he hadn't. He helped her, and he stayed with her. And now she wasn't so scared of touching people anymore, or letting others touch her.

Almost as if he could sense her thoughts, Eddie turned to her and smiled, cuffing her on the chin gently. She scrunched her nose at him, slapping his fist away. Tris, unphased by their affection, wrapped an arm around Mads and pinched El's cheek.

"We should probably find those friends of yours, kiddo," she said, peering out the window at the cool mid-morning light.

Had they really spent so much time goofing off? Will was still in the Vale and Barb… they didn't know if Barb had made it through the night. A somber air settled over the group, dampening their previously good mood.

"Mike…" Eleven said softly.

"They're probably looking for you, El," Mads said gently, but El shook her head. "No, don't be like that; he's probably worried sick, like I was. We should go find him."

El curled her knees to her chest, refusing to look up at Mads – or the others. They all exchanged a glance, Eddie shrugging. But it was Tris, with all her big sister experience, who got El to respond.

"Listen, El," she said, tilting the little girl's chin up in a sisterly fashion. "You made a mistake throwing Lucas like that, but we know you weren't trying to hurt him. Mike and Dustin are good; they will understand. Lucas may need some time to come around, but an apology goes a long way."

"A-apology?" El asked, appearing quite miserable.

"Sayin' you're sorry," Tris explained. "You know, when you feel bad about something you did and you tell the other person about it. An apology."

El's brows furrowed, but she nodded. An apology… she could do that. Lucas was hurting Mike, but she almost hurt him worse and would have had Mads not been there to stop her. She felt bad for that. Would saying so really fix things?

"I can't tell you how many times I've had to say sorry to these two." Mads gestured to her friends, who rolled their eyes in unison. "They've never rejected me yet. What do you say, wanna find your friends?"

El nodded. "Yes."

"I'll go warm up the van," Eddie said, shrugging his jacket on.

They could hear his footsteps on the stairs as they set about covering El's eyes and tuning the radio to static.

"Mike…" El whispered, a droplet of blood trickling out of her nostril.

Mads vowed then to help her train her powers when this was all over. She could be so much stronger than this. So much more powerful.

Lead settled in her stomach when she realized who she sounded like in that moment. The stitched-up gash on her sternum throbbed. Shaking her head as though to banish her thoughts and memories, she reminded herself that she wasn't anything like 001. That she loved El.

"But 001 claims to love me, too," she thought ruefully, but put the idea out of her mind. She was not 001 and had her own set of morals that weren't anything like his. Or so she told herself.

That childlike naivety followed her to the van with her friends. This situation, fugitive children on the run from the government… there was no way it could end without some pain on either side. Carnage. Sorrow. Rage. And everything in between.


El's simplistic instructions – right, left, right, right, and "that way" – lead them to the quarry. The sound of shouting, screaming, could be heard from all the way up the gravel drive. Panic coursed through Mads like an electrical current, and the others seemed to sense the gravity of the situation too.

"Mike!" El exclaimed frantically, gripping Eddie's arm – urging him to go faster.

Soon, they were at the quarry's edge, the sight of Dustin engaged in a struggle with two other boys only intensified the panicked air in the van's cab. Gravel and damp earth spun out beneath the van's tires, Eddie pulling them to a stop mere feet from the boys.

El launched herself from the van, rushing towards the lip of the cliff as fast as her skinny legs would carry her, sending muddy gravel flying with each step. Mike was nowhere to be seen, but his screams… That was a sound that would haunt them all for the rest of their lives.

When El pulled him back up, when his body came flying back up over the edge, Tris bolted over, ripping the boy out of the air and onto the solid ground. She held him close as he clutched his small hands in her leather jacket, his breaths coming in terrified pants.

It was all too easy to discern what happened here. El had told them about the "mouth breathers". These two had to be them. One of them had a knife – a switchblade, a weapon which was illegal in Indiana. From the wide berth Dustin gave the boy, and his own disheveled appearance, it was clear that he had been attacked. Lack of blood notwithstanding.

The little fucking prick.

Mads took a menacing step towards the boy with the knife, rage simmering in her eyes, rippling off her skin. The bigger one – and presumably smarter – ran off in the other direction, but not before receiving a large push out of nowhere that sent him sprawling in the gravel.

El's nose was bleeding again, profusely.

A catlike smirk curled at the corner of Mads' mouth, and widened when she noticed knife-boy flinch. Another step and he fell to the ground.

"Mads," Eddie warned in a low tone. That dark, wild part of her seethed at his warning. She wanted to hurt this little shit, make him scream, make him cry, make him bleed. He hurt El's person and she wanted him to pay.

But… Eddie was right. A child. Children. They were just children. Even if one of them did have a switchblade and threatened to cut up another child's mouth. Even if he did force another child to jump off a cliff. No. She wasn't 001. She wouldn't murder a child.

But she could make him piss his pants.

The smell of hot urine permeated the frigid air causing everyone present a different reaction of disgust. Mads' teeth flashed through her crimson painted lips; she hadn't even used her powers. Eddie chuckled darkly in amusement.

"Name," she demanded, storming over to the kid, gravel crunching under her boots.

"I-I don't have to tell you nothin'!" He hissed, scrunching up on himself.

Mads leaned down to his eye-level, the buckles and zippers on her jacket tinkling in a mocking sort of tune. "It's 'anything', and yeah kid, you do."

In Mads' periphery – before she could say or do anything to stop her – she saw El's neck snap to the side.

A sickening crack thundered in her ears as the boy below her screamed in tremendous pain. Eddie and Tris' sounds of protest – and Dustin's celebrations – could barely be heard over the boy's agony. Scrambling back, Mads whipped around to face El, but she was already lying prone on the ground.

Her chest rose and fell in short, shallow spurts.

"Eddie," Mads barked, waving her hand towards the fallen girl. "See if she's okay, please. I gotta deal with this little shitstain."

He rushed over to her, reaching her just as Mike scrambled out of Tris' arms. They both reached for her at the same time, but Mike pulled her into his arms, patting her face gently in an attempt to revive her.

"Name!" Mads demanded over the sound of Knife-boy's cries.

Could she read his mind and find out? Sure, but that was less fun.

"Name, kid, or I let her do it again!" She stomped her booted foot next to his face where he lay in the gravel, the buckles jangling violently.

"Troy!" He cried, flinching. "My name's Troy, please don't hurt me!"

"Oh, like you wanted to do to my friends?" She asked with saccharine sweetness. "I won't hurt you Troy, I promise. Buuuut… I can't promise she won't hurt you." Mads gestured to the side where

El was now sitting up in Mike's arms, glaring in their direction.

"In fact," she continued, Cheshire cat's grin widening across her face in a grotesque display of sharp teeth. "I can't promise she won't do worse than she already has." Mads crouched down, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "Do I make myself clear?"

"V-very," he squeaked and she straightened up, looking at him as though he were an offensive little insect.

"Good, now get the fuck outta here."

She didn't have to tell Troy twice. Although his arm was broken, he scrambled away from her and into the surrounding forest with surprising ease. Dustin screamed threats and obscenities after him as though he were the one to scare off the bully. That brought a chuckle to the group, all of them except El.

"El, are you okay?" Mike asked, jostling her a bit in his arms. "El?"

Mads rushed over to her, landing on her knees in the cold, muddy gravel. Dampness seeped through the fabric, chilling the skin underneath to the bone.

"I-I'm sorry…" El sobbed, holding tight to Mike while reaching for Mads.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

"The gate… I… I opened it. I'm the monster."

Oh, oh no. No, no, no. This was not El's fault! Not entirely, the blame was equally hers. But mostly, mostly it was 001's. He was the one who lurked in her subconscious, waiting, waiting, waiting for her to fall exactly where he wanted her. And it just so happened that she had.

"No," Mads and Mike protested in unison.

"You're not the monster, El," Mads continued on her own.

"You saved me," Mike interjected, smiling down at her gleefully, the way only a child could. "Do you understand? You saved me."

A small whimper escaped El and he pulled her upwards into a clumsy embrace. They joined in one by one, Mads diving in immediately to wrap her arms around the two. Then Dustin, then Tris and Eddie completed the hug on the outside. Being crushed like this wasn't so bad, Mads supposed – mind spinning.

El wasn't the monster. Wasn't any kind of monster, but Mads was. 001 told her so, over and over again. He lied like a snake in the grass, but those words rang true. Had she never come back here, none of this would have happened. Eddie and Tris wouldn't be in danger.

Maybe the Gate would have still opened. Maybe El would have done it; but even if it had, there would be less danger, less madness. And Eddie and Tris would have gone about their lives smoking weed and playing rock music until the day they died a peaceful death.

Mads was the worst kind of monster. The kind who made people love her and refused to let them go when they got hurt. She was selfish and wicked; those noxious feelings swirling around in her stomach, making their way up into her chest. Crushing her heart. Stealing the breath from her lungs like the flashing image of fiery blue eyes in her mind.


When they'd knelt in the wet ground long enough, when Mads' knees were beginning to ache from the cold and the pressure of three other people leaning on her, they stood – Mike helping El to her feet. With a flick of her wrist, Troy's fallen switchblade flew into her hand and she snapped it closed, pocketing it.

"Holy shit," Tris breathed, an awed grin spreading across her face. "That was fucking crazy! You two are just like Jedi!"

"Language," Mads admonished with a wry smile, attempting to brush off her knees.

"Mads, this Dustin kid has a worse vocabulary than all three of us combined," Eddie teased, shoving the boy's cap down onto his head, much to his protests and chagrin.

"'We should be examples to the younger generation'," Mads said, posing dramatically. "Isn't that what you always say, great dungeon master?"

Eddie fixed her with a look but there was amusement shining in his dark eyes. She merely stuck her tongue out at him – which he returned – and sauntered back towards the van. They had to get the kids' bikes and get them home before that little shit ran crying to mommy.

The ride to the Wheeler house was mostly quiet, their bikes jangling in the back every time they hit a pothole. El insisted on staying with Mike again, much to Mads' quiet annoyance. But it was no big deal. She wouldn't be able to stay in the Wheeler's basement forever. Once they closed the Gate and rescued Will Mads could convince the kids of that.

She would even let Mike see El occasionally. If he behaved himself.

When Mads, Eddie, and Tris returned to the Wilson's house, the couple still wasn't home. Worry tightened in Mads' chest, squeezing her lungs in a vise and she stormed up the porch steps. Everything was quiet in the house save for the shrill ring of the telephone in the bright, cheery kitchen. Nearly tripping in her rush to answer it, she picked it up right before it went to voicemail.

"Jake?" Pam's voice said through the line.

"No, it's—" Mads tried to say.

"Don't say another word. I need to speak to Jake," Pam insisted, sounding tense but controlled.

Mads understood. The phone lines weren't safe.

Passing the phone to Eddie, she whispered, "You're Jake. Don't say anything incriminating."

He nodded and Mads stood close to listen in, pulling Tris in with her.

"Jake?" Pam asked again.

"Y-yeah, it's me," Eddie said, shrugging at the glares from the two girls gave his stutter. "What's up Aunt Pam?"

"We're at the station right now and we need you to bring us the document we discussed," Pam said cagily, as though she were looking over her shoulder on the other line. "You remember the document I'm talking about, right?"

"Uhhh… Document, oh! Yeah, that document! Yep, I'll be right over. See you Aunt Pam."

"Goodbye Jake, please hurry."

Mads waited until the phone was completely cradled in the receiver before grabbing her keys and helmet then rushing out the front door, Eddie and Tris hot on her heels. Pam was cleverer than she gave her credit for, asking "Jake" to bring her a "document". They'd found something out and needed to speak with her. Urgently. And for whatever reason they couldn't come home.

Mads saw exactly why when she burst through the police station door. Jonathan Byers was cuffed to a desk, Nancy Wheeler sitting beside him with an anxious expression on her pretty face. Eddie and Tris hurried in a few moments after, causing Jonathan to flinch.

"You two!" Mads exclaimed. "The fuck are you doing here?"

Fear flashed in Jonathan's dark eyes and Wheeler stood protectively next to him.

"We could ask the same of you," she sniffed.

"We're not the ones in custody, Wheeler," Eddie countered with a smirk.

"Madison!" Hop barked from the doorway to his office, causing the trio to jump. "In here please. Callahan! I thought I told you to uncuff the Byers boy, I wanna speak to him too."

When they turned to follow, Wheeler grabbed the sleeve of Mads' biking jacket, halting her.

"Wait," she demanded, her big eyes flashing. "You have some explaining to do!"

"Uh, actually, I don't owe you or anyone else an explanation for anything. And I've got shit to take care of, so if you'll excuse me…"

"No!" She hissed, tightening her grip on Mads sleeve. "Your friends over there wouldn't answer our questions and pulled a gun on us!"

If looks could kill, Wheeler would be dead on the floor in seconds. Pure, unadulterated anger rippled over Mads face and she ripped her sleeve from the other girl's grasp. The terrified look on her face would have been satisfying if they hadn't been in a police station of all places. Somewhere Mads had been taught to avoid from a young age.

"She said 'later', Wheeler," Tris ground out, snatching the girl's hand out of the air when she made for another grab at Mads.

Tris glared balefully down at Wheeler until she backed down, pulling her arm to her chest as though Tris had burned her. She returned to Jonathan's side while Officer Callahan uncuffed him.

"Bad news comes in threes…" Hop said ominously when the trio entered his office. "Please tell me you atomically troublemaking punks haven't been up to the same ridiculous vigilante bullshit these two have."

He gestured angrily at Wheeler and Jonathan, who stepped into the office after them.

"Oooh, Atomic Punks! I like that," Mads cheered, a snide grin crossing her features. "Eddie, new band name!"

"I still like Corroded Coffin," he shot back, crossing his arms.

A warning look from the adults silenced them.

Eventually they were all settled and stories were shared. Wheeler and Jonathan told Joyce and Hop exactly what they planned and their theory about the monster. Mads was just about to open her mouth to corroborate their story when Pam burst into tears and hugged her so tightly Mads felt as though she couldn't breathe.

"What—"

"I'm so sorry we left!" Pam cried as the others, including her husband, watched on helplessly.

"I, uh… It's fine?" Mads assured her, patting the older woman's back in bemusement.

Unnoticed by the rest of them, Joyce slipped out of the room with Jonathan, a fierce look on her pretty face. Nancy followed silently behind them.

"Mads…" Jamie began hesitantly. "I don't know how to begin; the past few days have been chaotic to say the least… But we've discovered some things about Pam's sister. She may have been involved with a Dr. Brenner at one point, and was pregnant with a baby girl. We were told she had a late term miscarriage, but lining up the story with what we learned from Terry Ives…"

"You— you think this girl was at the Lab with me?" Mads asked, lead forming in her gut.

There was no way this girl was alive now. El was the only experiment left; both she and 001 had confirmed that. And she didn't remember anyone who looked like Pam or Jamie in the Lab anyway; though, it was possible.

"What was your sister's name?" Mads asked the sobbing woman hesitantly.

"Coral Booker," Pam gasped, attempting to calm herself. "Everyone called her Cora."

That didn't ring any bells. Of course, Cora could have been there when Mads was just a baby, or before she was born. It was entirely possible that Cora's baby had been in the Lab. Cora's baby might have even been one of the many who escaped before Kali and Mads did in '78.

"A-and what was Cora's baby's name?" Tris piped up.

"Coralline," Jamie said with some amusement. "Like her own name and this stupid opera she was obsessed with. Her full name was Coralline Hope Booker."

Hope.

Hope.

Mads knew nothing of her own name… But 001 had always told her she was special, that her mother even believed as much, so she named her Hope. How he knew that, she didn't know – and at the time she didn't care, Peter had called her special after all and that was the most important thing.

As time went on, and Mads became more curious about herself and the outside world, she began ruminating on that small tidbit about herself. It came to mean so much to her that when she left and picked a name for herself, she included it on her forged birth certificate and legal documents. Madison Hope Johnson.

"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, unsure of her own voice should she speak any louder. "I don't know… I'm not sure, I don't—"

"I want an apology!" A shrill voice demanded from the front of the station.

Hop sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face and headed for the door demanding they all stay put for the time being. Never one to mind authority, Mads extracted herself from Pam's embrace and hurried to follow Hop, and because she couldn't stand to be in that office another second with her thoughts. Her head was beginning to throb. Eddie and Tris followed – always eager to see what mischief Mads would inevitably get herself into.

In the front Knife-boy – Troy, Mads reminded herself – stood next to a woman who was presumably his mother.

"I see you've changed your pants, you little snot," Mads heckled as she neared him, the jingling sound of her boots causing him to flinch. His mother wrapped a protective arm around him, carefully avoiding his sling.

"I thought I told you to stay put," Hop grumbled.

"Didn't wanna miss the show, Chief." Mads smirked.

Troy whispered something in his mother's ear and she straightened, mouth mashing into a thin line.

"See! She's admitting to bullying my son!" Troy's mother snapped.

Oh, that's how she wanted to play it. Fine. Two could play her little game.

"I'm not admitting to anything but defending two other boys," Mads shot back and thrust the switchblade from her pocket. "Recognize this, kid?"

Troy stared up at her with wide, fearful eyes.

"He had this lovely little switchblade," Mads batted her eyes up at Officer Callahan and Troy's mother. "Which is illegal to own in the state of Indiana fyi – pulled on Dustin Henderson earlier today and threatened to cut his teeth out if Mike Wheeler didn't jump into the quarry to – and I quote – 'end up like his queer friend'."

Callahan and Powell made nearly identical faces at her statement and Hop crossed his arms over his chest, clearly losing patience for the whole situation. Troy's mother on the other hand…

"How do I know you're not just making this up?" She demanded. "For all I know, that knife could belong to you! You're probably lying to frame my child!"

Mads let out a single, jarringly loud laugh, leaning towards Troy with an easy smile. "Tell your mommy what happened Troy. Tell the officers." Her voice became airy, dreamlike. "Tell. The. Truth."

The boy's eyes glazed over, his jaw slackening slightly, but he complied. The story came spilling out of him, right until the point his arm broke when he cut off abruptly. His mother stared down at him in shock, which was soon replaced by cool indifference when she turned back to face Mads and the officers.

"And how did his arm end up broken?" Troy's mother sniffed. "He's leaving out quite an important detail here. A psychotic child with a shaved head broke his arm!"

Mads was unable to hold back the cackle that burst from her lips, but quickly stifled it at a glare from Hop.

"And what exactly did this girl do?" Hop asked, but the full force of his ire was directed at Mads who shrank a little beneath his gaze.

"She… she can make you do things," Troy said lamely, fidgeting beneath the gaze of the officers and his mother. "Like fly… and piss yourself…"

It was Callahan and Powell's turn to snort, though they quickly resumed professional demeanors. Tris and Eddie on the other hand could barely restrain their giggles and ended up coughing from the strain.

"And she was with these three?" Hop asked, gesturing to the teenagers.

Troy nodded; eyeing Mads fearfully. "But she also hangs out with those losers."

"Their names are Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, you creep," Mads snapped.

Hop held up a hand at Troy's mother's outraged screech and directed Callahan to finish taking down her statement. There was really nothing they could do for her, it was Troy's word against Mads, Eddie, and Tris' and he was the one who pulled an illegal weapon on another child. Not to mention, little girls can't go around making people fly, piss themselves, or breaking people's arms with their minds.

It just couldn't happen.

What probably went down was Troy got his arm broken trying to hurt two other boys and didn't want to admit it. At least in Callahan and Powell's minds. Hop was more inclined to believe Troy, his prejudices notwithstanding. And from the anxiety rolling off Mads, he suspected his hunch was right.


"Where are you?" Mads demanded down the connection she opened up to El's mind.

The adults had taken them back to Joyce Byers' house after finding an entire swarm of Brenner's goons confiscating boxes upon boxes of the Wheeler's belongings. When she saw him – her Papa, Dr. Brenner – standing there with his pristine white hair and perfectly tailored suit she found herself transported back to her eleven-year-old self. Small, scared, propped up only by someone else who wanted to use her.

Papa…

Her heart ached and panged and every emotion under the sun slammed into her all at once. She spent so much time hating this man only for those old feelings of love and desire for his acceptance to resurface along with her fear and loathing. Dammit, she was supposed to have locked those feelings away, forgotten about them.

The same feelings she had for Peter, for 001. The same predicament.

Jonathan had gotten the brilliant idea to use Will's walkie-talkie to find out where the kids and El were. The only problem was that those kids were smart, and scared. There was no way they were going to give away their location that easily. Least of all to Hop.

The Star Wars trilogy was one of the many movies she snuck into the theater to see before coming back to Hawkins. Lando Calrissian was a familiar and iconic face of betrayal "for the greater good" and all that bullshit. Hop may be on their side for now… But when things got hairy, Mads wasn't sure he stood on the same ground as Joyce and the Wilsons.

She could have found them herself. Perhaps she should have exerted the extra energy and done so before bothering to ask, but perhapses and Mads didn't go together too well.

"El, where the hell are you?" Mads demanded again.

No answer.

A heavy sigh escaped her, garnering the attention of her friends. Her mind was still reeling from Pam's revelations, and whether or not she… she didn't want to think about it. The pounding in her head only intensified. She sat back and waited for a response, not wanting to appear overeager and alert the adults to her plan.

Seconds later, an image of the inside of an old bus flashed in her mind for an instant, then faded. She knew that bus. She knew that bus.

It was the same bus she climbed through to stargaze with Eddie and Tris only a week or so ago. The same bus she passed when she chased El into the forest beyond only last night.

Gingerly, she rubbed her raw, aching chest – her sore temples – grateful for the cold so the layers she wore would cover her stitches. Pam and Jamie didn't need to know about what happened last night. They didn't need to know about the pain she was in.

"I know where they are," Mads projected into Eddie and Tris' minds.

A barely perceptible nod was the only indication they heard her.

Abruptly, she stood and headed towards the door, only to be grabbed by the upper arm. Looking up, she saw Hop looming over her with an indignant expression. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?"

"Smoke break." She held up a lighter with an easy, practiced smile. "What? Don't tell me I can't go stand on the front porch and smoke a cigarette?"

"Uh, yeah," Tris said, coming up to stand behind her. "It's been ages since we had one."

Hop looked between the two of them for a moment, then back at Jamie and Pam who nodded, before acquiescing. "Fine. One cigarette."

As they stepped out into the cold, the sun's rays turning a warm gold in the late afternoon, they heard Hop stop Eddie in his tracks. The girls stiffened, listening.

"What're you doing?" Hop growled.

"You said we could take a smoke break." They could hear the shit-eating smile in Eddie's voice.

"All three of you?"

"Who d'you think carries all the cigs around, man?"

Hop exhaled another deep sigh and soon Eddie joined them on the porch, divvying out cigarettes among the three of them as he shut the door behind him.

"You don't smoke Mads," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Nope," she said, putting the cig between her lips and lit it, exhaling the smoke through her nostrils.

Dope and tobacco were very different drugs, and she preferred to smoke the former. Tobacco tasted and smelled bad. The cannabis cough made it easier to deal with cigarette smoke though, and she really needed a drag of something.

"When I say run, make for the van, got it?" She said, taking another calm drag of her cigarette, flicking off the ash.

They nodded, each exhaling their own smoke. A few more minutes was all they had before Hop came out and dragged them all back inside by the scruffs of their necks. Just enough time for them to finish smoking.

The way the golden light fell on her friends' forms was striking. Tris with her shaggy dark hair, her deep-set eyes nearly the color of honey in the shining light. High sloping cheekbones and full lips painted burgundy. The cute little dimple in her chin. Her long, willowy body made to seem even slimmer in the dark clothing she wore.

And Eddie, oh Eddie. The makeup around his eyes had smeared a little, causing the darkness of them to appear like black holes – the light unable to pierce their dark depths. He was lithe and lean, all buckles and spikes. His hair was riotous with its waves and curls, and the dimples that stood out in his cheeks when he laughed at a joke Tris was making.

"What?" They asked when she noticed her stare.

"Run," she said with a wobbly smile.

Tris squeezed her hand and Eddie wrapped her in a bone crushing hug for half a second before they sprinted toward the van. She never knew she could love the touch of another person so much as theirs.

Mads made it to her bike as they jumped into the van, Eddie starting it and driving off before either of them could get the doors closed. The front door banged open and she heard shouting from multiple voices behind them, but Mads paid them no mind, settling her helmet over her head before speeding off in the direction Eddie drove.

Gravel spun out under her tires, then grass as she drove faster and faster, leaping onto the road from the Byers' yard – the biting wind whipping against any and all exposed skin. Only a few seconds ahead of her, Mads quickly overtook Eddie's van, signaling for him to follow her.

At the speed they were going, Mads would have been shocked had Hop or the Wilsons caught up to them. Dangerous as it may be, it would be even worse for the boys and El should Dr. Brenner or his goons find them before her.

Before they legged it to the junkyard, the trio parked the van on the secluded offroad they had before, loading the Kawasaki into the back to hide it.

The air was tense and anxieties were high as they rushed through the woods. Each snap of a twig or flutter of birds' wings made Tris jump as she clutched Mads by the arm. Eddie merely scanned the perimeter uneasily, his rifle held tightly in his ringed fingers.

Once they made it to the forest's edge, Mads halted, throwing up her hand, signaling the other two to stop. For a moment she stretched out her mind, creeping around the junkyard until she was certain no one was lying in wait for the kids. Or for them.

"Let's go," she whispered and rushed into the clearing.

The bus. The kids were inside the bus. Thank fucking God there was only one rusty old bus in this scrapyard. With her mind, Mads flung open the door and stepped in, catching a stone right before it connected with her face.

It hovered in mid-air where she plucked it up and tossed it back.

"A bit rude," she commented as Lucas caught the rock in shaky hands. "I mean, I did come all this way to rescue you."

Her boots echoed loudly in the old bus, sending creaks and groans up the decrepit vehicles' body. Though, the heavy steps were really just to intimidate. Eddie and Tris' footsteps hardly made any noise as they hurried inside.

The roar of a helicopter engine could be heard in the distance.

They had made it just in time. Excellent.

"But now we can't leave…" Lucas sighed, peering out one of the cleaner windows at the helicopter.

"Get down, Sinclair!" Eddie shouted, storming over and pulling the kid away from the window. "D'you want them to see you?"

They all took cover, staying out of view of the windows. El scrambled between Mads and Mike, burrowing into her side. The old bus smelled of rust and disuse… and maybe a little BO, like someone had been staying inside it for a time. It looked like they would be too, unless…

"You didn't answer Nancy, did you?" Mads asked sharply, observing their reactions.

Guilt was written on every single one of their faces. Sighing, she shook her head. There was no way she could be mad at them; they were kids and they were scared, what were they supposed to do? So what if they had a superhero with them? El was a kid, just like them.

Just a kid. Small and scared.

"It's fine!" Tris rushed to say, ever the big sister. "We'll keep you safe, don't worry one bit."

To distract Lucas, she unbuckled her hunting knives from her belt loops and let him play with them. Sheathes on, of course. Dustin settled himself down next to Eddie, gazing up at him adoringly. Like a little puppy.

"And what can I do for you, kiddo?" He asked, smirking in amusement.

"You're a DM, right?" Dustin asked, at once becoming completely serious.

"Yeah. Founded the Hellfire Club at the high school and everything. Great way to meet girls, if that's what you're into," he gestured at Mads and Tris who were talking animatedly with the other kids. "Why? Looking to join? I'd say… You're a few years too early, but I'll consider a reservation."

"Don't get his hopes up, Munson!" Tris called, swinging the bone keychain around on her finger. "We've got a very selective vetting process."

"Says who, Buckley," he shot back good-naturedly. "I'm the Dm. I get the last say."

"Authoritarian rule is what got the king toppled in our last campaign," Mads commented, scraping her nails gently over El's scalp. The little girl wriggled next to her as goosebumps broke out over her skin. "Maybe I'll be the next DM."

"Mads! I thought you'd be on my side!" Eddie complained, but they all were laughing.

Though, the three teens made eye contact over the cheerfulness of the four children. An undercurrent of tense fear ran through the trio. Could Hop be trusted? Had the helicopter operators seen them? How long could they stay here, waiting for it to go away?

Mads didn't know, but she knew they had to keep the kids feeling entertained – safe and comfortable. It was the only way they were going to make it through the night with their innocence and sanity intact. She had already lost hers… and the pounding in her head was growing unbearable.

"Mads," El said, looking around at her friends, then up at her. "Papa…"

Mads' heart squeezed, the sutures in her chest threaded through muscle and bone, wrapping themselves tightly around the pulsing organ. "Yeah, El. Papa," she confirmed. "Papa lied to us. Papa doesn't care about us. He hurt us and made us cry. And he wants to do that again. Since he made us cry, I'll kill him before he gets that chance."

"Did she just say she wanted to kill someone?" Lucas squeaked, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor.

"Yeah, buddy," Eddie called, amusement coloring his tone. "It's kinda like, her thing. Psycho witchy killer."

The boys stared at her, wide eyed, but as most children do they returned to their games and conversations. Before they knew it, the sun was lowering toward the horizon. Night falling in a greyscale twilight, the time when Mads used to feel the safest. Now all the bumps and sounds made her jump, jostling El. Each time she gave the girl a reassuring smile, but she knew it was a matter of time before the kids realized how bad of a predicament they were in. The whir of the helicopter blades in the distance reverberated through her very soul. They couldn't escape without drawing its attention. Not with a group of their size. Even splitting up would be risky.

And causing it to crash would be just as dangerous.

Her head was aching, splitting right down the center of her forehead like it had each time 001 or El called to her. And El, who was nestled peacefully next to her, was not crying out for her.

Oh, it hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

Just a little longer. Just a bit longer. Maybe Hop was trustworthy and he was coming to get them. He'd know how to sneak out of here. He'd been in 'Nam – learned how to fight covertly. How to get away undetected.

Kali had only taught Mads how to run and hide, not how to get away without an explosive exit. Another thing she failed Mads at.

Sure, she was good at both of those things. But more often than not, she had to erase or rewrite people's memories – or kill them. Kali was fine with either, so long as they got away. So long as Mads did what she told her.

She was tired, so tired, of people telling her what to do.

The sound of vehicles approaching prickled at her ears over the pain in her head. Jerking her chin toward the front of the bus, Mads bade Tris to check to see who it was. The stiffening of her spine and the pallid color of her skin when she rejoined the group told Mads the answer before she even opened her mouth.

"Stay put," Mads demanded, extracting herself from El, and crept toward the front of the bus.

The pain was excruciating.

Gritting her teeth, Mads peeked through the windshield to see three suited men with handguns exit the cars. Jesus H. Crucified Christ. Fuck her, fuck them, fuck the universe. Fucking fuck!

Scrambling down before they caught sight of her, Mads held her finger to her lips as a warning to the others. Fear, sharp and acidic, permeated the stale air of the bus. The loud screeching of rusted metal being tossed about outside reached their ears, then all was quiet.

The men outside must have found the kids' bikes.

Shit.

Over the sound of blood rushing in her ears, Mads heard her own sharp command for everyone to stay where they were as she slid towards the bus door. She could hear the men outside approaching. They weren't even bothering to be stealthy. They thought they had the upper hand. They thought wrong.

Mads stood, rolling the muscles in her shoulders. She could hear the whispered protests from her friends, from the kids, from El. But the throbbing in her head was too great, and there was no other way.

The door opened with a loud clatter, causing the men outside to jump.

"Don't look," she commanded; her tone was pleading, urgent, angry. The pain, oh the pain was too much. "Whatever you hear, or think you hear, do. Not. Look."

Hands raised and heart pounding, Mads exited the bus, meeting the quizzical expressions of the three suited men, their guns trained on her. Swallowing thickly - sparks bursting behind her eyes - Mads set one booted foot on the ground, then another.

They stood like that for a moment, a silent stand-off, each man meeting her painful addled gaze. When they began to converge on her, a smile unconsciously curled the ends of her lips, blood pulsing in her ears. The throbbing in her head became blissfully splitting agony as her hands formed into claws.

That's when the screaming began.

The men found their feet rooted to the ground, unable to move. Mads tilted her head to the side innocently, but her smile belied the action. They couldn't even fire their guns. The only thing they could do as Mads lifted a clawed hand was scream.

The only sound that echoed over their terrified screams was the first snap of a floating man's arm.

The sound brought a shiver rushing up Mads' spine, gooseflesh pimpling her skin. Her jaw ached from the smile that split her face in two. A coppery trickle of blood slipped between her parted lips, onto her white teeth.

Snap, the man's other arm was broken.

Crack, his legs splintered in four places.

A twitch of her finger and his jaw shattered, teeth scattering on the ground before her.

And right before she let the dying man fall to the ground, she stole his eyes, sending them into the back of his skull where they burst along with his brain. Gore and blood trickled onto the ground below in a visceral display of the monstrousness inside of her.

The sound his body made when it landed on the ground would have turned anyone else's stomach. But not hers. 001 was right. She was a monster. Just like him. Because with each snap of bone, each scream of terror that tore through the dying men's throats eased the pain in her head.

In her heart, if only for a moment.

It was with the smallest, most delicate actions she killed them. A twitch of a finger, a flick of her wrist, the inclination of her head. It wasn't like the dance described in fantasy novels where the hero clashes her sword against that of her enemies in a flashy display of martial prowess. No, the way Mads killed was a gentle cruelty that juxtaposed the snapping, cracking, crushing of bone and viscera.

When it was all finished and the dying brown grass was stained red with blood, the pain in her mind receded to nothing more than a dull ache in the center of her forehead. She barely noticed when her knees hit the ground. When shouting male voices approached the bus. When she was pulled into a familiar pair of arms enrobed in a worn flannel and leather that smelled of pipe tobacco.

The blackness replaced the sparks behind her eyes and a glimmer of white with eyes of blue fire reached for her, shrouding her in shadow. The soft, cold glow flickered through the darkness that filled her, creeping through every orifice – waiting, watching, wanting.

She choked on it and knew no more.


A/N: I am here thanking you for your support because I obsess over your comments. Ty. Ily.

My drs appointment is closing in on me and I've never thought I'd say that I'm excited to go to the dr... but I am lmao.

Chapter title is taken from "Atomic Punk" by Van Halen on their debut album "Van Halen" released in 1978 (Y'all have no idea how long I've been waiting to use this as a chapter title smh). The joke Mads' makes about Atomic Punks being the new band name for Corroded Coffin is a nod to the Van Halen cover band called The Atomic Punks lol. It's also the trouble trio's group name now.

Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I appreciate each one! (Please don't forget to leave a review if you liked the story so far!)

Also, here is the mini mixtape for the final chapters, since we're about to wrap things up soon!:
playlist/2w0Fg6UPmVvj5L3EIMRYfw?si=fd523c888f364bc5

This is the "mixtape" I created for this fic. It's not entirely period accurate, but I feel like these songs fit the theme of the show and characters.
playlist/2w0Fg6UPmVvj5L3EIMRYfw?si=d8e38810c96f4875