Mike polished off his fifth Budweiser and tossed it on top of the empty bottles pile on the ground next to him. He wasn't a big drinker, unlike some of the other guys in his class, and usually restricted his consumption to no more than a couple beers. Truth was, he didn't care much for the taste. Recently, Hopper had begun to offer him one or two during barbeque dinners and birthdays, and although Mike didn't particularly enjoy beer, he'd always accept the offer. He took it as a sign of recognition from Hopper that he wasn't a child anymore, which he greatly appreciated.

But tonight was different. Tonight, Mike's plan was to get ripped drunk, and no one was going to stop him. Not even Eleven, who was at Max's for a girls night, most probably watching sappy romance movies and painting their fingernails. El would never say it outright, but she loved doing girly stuff with Max, and Mike respected that El needed a feminine influence in her life.

Eleven had been released from Hawkins General immediately after taking the scan that would indicate whether or not the tumor was cancerous, and Dr. Epstein said they would get the test results back in a week at most, which Mike thought was an insufferable amount of time. Today was Day 4, and he didn't know how he could possibly wait another three, seeing as time seemed to go by unreasonably slowly ever since they had left the hospital. It was both mentally and physically exhausting to be terrified every minute of every day, and Mike was starting to fall apart.

That first day El had found out about her tumor, El had been a wreck, which was to be expected, but it killed him to see her so discouraged and hopeless. He tried his best to be positive and stay strong for her, even though deep down he felt much like she did. He held her when she cried, tried to comfort her as best he could, and made sure she knew they would fight this together. But behind that facade, he was just as pissed off and afraid as she was. Life always found a way to screw them one way or another.

And it was the Lab's fault. All of it.

Mike unzipped his backpack and reached for the unopened bottle of Jack Daniel's, unscrewing it with his teeth. He spit out the cap and took a large swig of its contents before slamming it down on the ground. He looked across the night sky at the dim lights emitting from Hawkins Lab from his spot at the foot of a nearby hill, about a half-mile away. How was it that this fucking place still existed? Why had no one burned it to the ground yet? Why hadn't he? He scoffed, angry with himself for being such a softie, like Lucas had said. Maybe he should learn to be tougher, and enjoy beer, and beat up the bad guys himself instead of letting his girlfriend do all the work.

He took another swig of Jack Daniels, encouraged by how well his first had gone down. It was his first time trying whiskey, and he'd expected it to taste awful, but it wasn't so bad. He much preferred whiskey than beer, he decided, so he took another mouthful. Before long, he was starting to feel lightheaded, which he knew was a step in the right direction of getting shitfaced.

"Thank you, Keith," he said out loud, referring to Dustin's old boss and manager of the arcade who had purchased the liquor for him. Of course, there'd been a catch - Keith wanted twice the price for the bottle, and the promise of a date with Nancy, which he's been desperately trying to get for three years. Mike had agreed to it, although there was no way in hell he'd honor the latter part of the deal.

"What an idiot," he chuckled to himself out loud. Mike had to admit the liquor was starting to make him feel a little bit better. The pain wasn't as gut-wrenching as it usually was. He was still worried about El, of course, but he welcomed the temporary bliss. He took another two swigs of Jack.

Not only had Hawkins Lab stolen Eleven from her family, ruined her childhood by submitting her to years of abuse and isolation, but they had implanted a device inside her head that would ultimately give her cancer. They had knowingly condemned her to her die, just so they could weaponize her. Now that Mike knew the truth about El's powers, that they were a poison gift handed to her by the Lab instead of a natural superhuman ability she was born with, he wished he would have never encouraged her to use them. Up until recently, he thought they were the coolest thing he'd ever witnessed. Now, he wished they would have never existed.

"ASSHOLES!" he yelled in the direction of the lab, taking another sip of liquor.

How could they do this to innocent children?

Mike didn't usually let himself think about the others. His heart and mind were too preoccupied with El, there was no room for anyone else. But right now, the gates were open. Mike wanted to be angry, to fuel the hatred he had for the Lab, and with it, ignite a fire that would burn them to the ground.

Mike took another swig from the bottle and started packing his empty bottles into his bag. He stood up a little too quickly, and struggled to regain his balance, stumbling to the side. "Woah. Steady." He laughed. It felt good to laugh again.

He started making his way towards the Lab.

Hopper was watching a movie at home with Joyce when he heard the phone rang. He glanced at the clock. It was 10:00 PM, which meant it could be three things. One, Eleven calling from Max's in need of a ride back home. Two, Will, calling from Indianapolis to speak to his mother. Three, work. It was Friday night, and he was on call this weekend. Emergencies only - that was the deal.

He sighed and made his way over to the phone, hoping for either one of the first two options.

"Yeah?"

"Chief, we got a call from Hawkins Lab. Drunk teenager causing some trouble at the gate. We could handle it, but you said you wanted to take care of any calls regarding Hawkins Lab, so… do you want us to dispatch someone else, or do you want to head over there yourself?"

Hopper had a feeling which teenager it was.

"Let me handle it…" he growled into the phone.

"THAT'S RIGHT! I'M TALKING TO YOU, BIG BOY HIDING BEHIND THE GATE!" shouted Mike as he tossed an empty bottle of beer at the man watching him from behind the Hawkins Lab employee entrance gate.

"FUCK YOU, YOU COWARD! YOU LIKE KILLING KIDS HUH?! WHY DON'T YOU COME OUT HERE AND THROW A FEW PUNCHES AT ME THEN?" Mike tossed another bottle, this one shattering into a million pieces about ten feet before him.

''Kid, it's over for you,'' the man warned.

"YOU GUYS ARE ASSHOLES!" Mike yelled back at him, ignoring him completely.

He heard a car pull up behind him. Mike turned, squinting in the blinding headlights, almost falling over as he took a few steps towards it, trying to see who was sitting behind the wheel. Then he saw Hopper step out of the car.

"Oh, shit.''

"You got that right," growled Hopper, advancing towards him, but stopped in his tracks when he took in the sight of Mike. He'd come over with every intention to rip the kid apart for being reckless. But looking at him now, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Truthfully, he had never seen Mike look so terrible, and not only because he was visibly wasted - there was an air of desperation and heartbreak about him, and he just couldn't let bring himself to stay mad at the kid. In truth, he felt for him.

"Just get in," Hopper ordered, defeated.

"No! I - I'm not getting in the car with you! You're just gonna - you're just gonna take me home, or take me to the station, or kick my ass or something! I'm staying here to give those assholes what they deserve!" Mike slurred his words to the point where Hopper could barely discern what he was saying.

"YOU HEAR ME TALKING, YOU FUCKING PRICK? I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" he shouted in the direction of the gate, loud and clear this time.

"Alright, that's enough." Hopper grabbed Mike by the collar of his shirt, dragging him back to the patrol car. Mike lifted his hands in the air in a sign of defeat.

"Okay - okay. Jeez. YOU WIN THIS TIME, YOU SONS OF BITCHES! I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU!" he yelled behind him before being forced inside the car by Hopper.

Mike couldn't stay silent for long. The alcohol coursing through his veins was making him feel way too chatty.

''Are you taking me to the station?'' he asked.

''I should. Because you're acting a damn fool right now. But no, I'm not,'' replied Hopper, keeping his eyes on the road.

Mike felt a wave of relief wash over him, as well as one of light nausea. The road between the Lab and the city was a long and winding one, and he wasn't enjoying the ride at all in his current inebriated state.

''Okay. But please don't take me home. You can just drop me off at the park or something. I really, really don't want to go home. My mom will freak out, and Nancy will lecture me. And I can't handle either of them right now.''

''You're damn right I'm taking you home! There's no way in hell I'm bringing you back to my place in the state you're in. Joyce would be way too upset. Plus, she'll probably blame me for it. You do know the whole point of me offering you a beer every once in a blue moon was for you to learn to drink responsibly, right?'' thundered Hopper, casting a disapproving look at Mike, which he avoided. Hopper shook his head, turning to face the road again.

Mike sighed, defeated. ''I know, and I'm sorry okay? I am! It's just... I hate them so much, Jim. I hate them.'' His voice cracked at the last words. Hopper glanced over at Mike again, who was covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked straight ahead fighting to hold back the tears, his facial features twisted downward into a pained expression. Hopper's heart weighed heavy watching the kid. He knew exactly how he felt. It was a soul-crushing, gut-wrenching kind of pain, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone he loved.

''I... I understand, son. I hate them too.''

''They ruined her! They took this beautiful, sweet, perfect child, and they ruined her Jim! And now she's sick. And it's all their fault!''

Hopper closed his eyes momentarily, letting the harsh reality of Mike's words sink in. He couldn't blame the kid for being upset. He knew how much Mike truly cared for his daughter. And although sometimes he could be an arrogant little shit, he knew for a fact that Mike loved Eleven more than life itself and would do anything to protect her.

''I know, son. They're sick fucks. And they'll get what's coming for them. We're gonna take them down. You, me, El. We're going back there and we're getting her file. And then we're gonna stick them with a lawsuit. And if we lose, I'll blow the Lab to bits. But we can't do any of that if you're being stupid and irresponsible. This isn't you, kid. You have to hold it together - you gotta do it for her.'' He knew he would strike a cord in Mike when he said this. Truly, he didn't want to punish him. What he wanted was to get through to him so Mike could get his act together and focus on their objective, which was to get access to El's medical file.

Mike nodded, invigorated. ''You're right, I'm sorry.''

''Must have felt good though, right?'' Hopper asked after a short moment of silence, a smile creeping upon his lips as he turned to glance at Mike.

Mike laughed. ''So good. I think one shattered on his foot.''

Hopper couldn't help but smile proudly at his son-in-law for a brief moment, then remembered he wasn't supposed to encourage this sort of behavior. ''But this isn't the way to let it out, son. Trust me. I'm angry too. This is my second time dealing with a sick child. It's the worst feeling in the world to have to go through all this shit again.''

Mike instantly felt himself sober up a few notches. He had completely forgotten about Sarah, Hopper's daughter that died five years ago. Of cancer. ''Jim I… I'm sorry. I didn't even… I didn't…''

''It's okay, kid.''

There were no words to describe how guilty Mike felt for not having considered what Hopper must be going through. The man may be tough on him sometimes, but Mike still had a lot of respect for him. And most importantly, he was family.

Out of nowhere, the nausea returned in full swing. The passing cars' headlights lights were suddenly way too bright, and the world began to spin before him.

''Jim... pull over.''

Eleven made her way across the Wheelers' yard as swiftly as she could. It was past midnight, but the lights were still on in the living room. When she'd come home from Max's, El had tried to reach Mike on the phone to no avail, which was unusual, and her dad had no choice but to tell her about his drunken episode at the Lab. Although she knew she was supposed to let him sleep it off, she desperately wanted to go check on him and make sure he was alright.

She levitated her way up to Mike's room. After crawling through the window, she saw him passed out on his bed, fully clothed, with a trash can beside him. The entire room reeked of alcohol. She sighed, her heart aching at the sight of him like this, and immediately started working on removing his shoes. Then she turned off the lamp on his nightstand and took her place next to him in his bed.

She stroked his cheek, feeling heartbroken and guilty at the same time. It was so unlike Mike to get wasted and be reckless, and El knew he was hurting and lashing out because of her. It hurt her to see him so broken, and knowing she was the cause made it infinitely worse.

She pressed his her forehead to his, and closed her eyes.