The inside of the barn was dark, lit only by the occasional string of Christmas lights and streams of sunlight coming through the holes in the ceiling, underneath which were buckets filled with the previous day's rain. The air was musty and stale, with the remnants of cigarette and marijuana smoke lingering, which stung the teen's noses a bit. There were rusted tools, dirty tarps, and empty bottles of beer and soda strewn everywhere. A small mouse caught Steve's eye as it scrambled into a hole in the wall. In the center of the room was a small table with a beat-up couch on one end and some old metal chairs surrounding it on all other sides. In the far right corner of the room, there was a small radio perched on a high-top table, and from it came the grungy sounds of guitar riffs and raging drum beats. Everything was powered by a whirring generator.

The farm door closed with many chain locks that dangled from it clanging and rattling loudly, startling Will and Eleven. A disheveled Eddie appeared before the group, with one eyebrow raised and lips pursed. His dark eyes scanned over each person most carefully, and all could see the words trying to form in his mouth.

"I recognize most of you twerps," he uttered at last, darkly and mysteriously.

Lucas felt a flutter in his stomach as Max, growing somewhat pale, stepped closer to him. Eddie's gaze then landed squarely on Eleven.

"But not this one," he said.

His attention then turned to his cousin. To her, he spoke in a more normal tone.

"Why'd you bring He-Man and the Peanuts gang here?" he questioned.

Suddenly, they heard the distant echoes of numerous police sirens wailing in the distance, followed by a strong gust of wind, sending a shiver down all their spines. The teens turned to Steve, their eyes begging him for reassurance. Steve looked to Joanna.

"They won't find us here," she said calmly.

Eddie's dark brow rose, sending ripples across his forehead, nearly hidden by his dark, feathery bangs.

"I beg your pardon?"

Steve noticed as the threat of tears cast a glassy shimmer over Joanna's eyes. Her dried, delicate fingers began to fidget with the ends of her apron. However, with a deep breath in, she composed herself. Eddie, having seen the momentary display of emotion, suddenly looked less like an untrusting barn-defender, and more like a protective relative.

"Joanna?" he asked, softer than Steve thought possible. "What is happening?"

Steve and Joanna took Eddie aside to explain what they could, though Joanna did most of the talking, as Eddie did not seem interested in anything Steve had to say, evidenced by his frequent side-eyed glances and arm-crossing any time he spoke. The teens sat around the table and fidgeted with the various dice and figurines scattered around on it.

"I know we weren't the ones making any of the decisions or doing the driving," Mike began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, "but do you think we're going to get in trouble for this?"

"Even if we do," Max chimed in, "we're kids. They'll go easy on us... I think."

"I'm more worried about Steve and Joanna," Dustin sighed, removing his trucker hat and running a hand through his curls. "Isn't this technically one count of kidnapping?"

Putting on his hat, he motioned with his head over to Eleven, who was sitting with her face turned away from them. She seemed distracted by the radio.

"And they're both old enough to be tried as adults," Lucas added, putting his head in his hands.

"Maybe we're thinking a little too much into this," Mike suggested, trying to force some optimism into his tone.

"You started it," Dustin retorted.

"Well, now I'm ending it," Mike declared. "Let's talk about something... anything... else."

Will dropped the silver figurine he held and lowered himself to the floor to retrieve it from underneath the table. The dust from the cold wooden floor irritated his eyes a bit as he searched for the escaped figurine. He reached beneath the table for it, but along with the figure, his fingers also curled around an old piece of paper, which he brought up with him.

"What'cha got there?" Max inquired, cupping her hands on his shoulder and resting her chin on her fingers.

"Join Hellfire Club," Will read aloud. "Meet behind the stage in the high school auditorium every Friday night at seven. No uptight pricks allowed."

At once, the teens recognized that they were fidgeting with an assortment of dice and figures from Dungeons and Dragons, some of which they had never seen before.

"The Hellfire Club?" Dustin repeated excitedly.

"What about it?" Eddie asked, appearing behind them and startling them rather terribly.

"You— you're in Hellfire?" Will stammered, eyes growing wide.

"Bowl cut," he replied, "I am Hellfire."

He pulled back one side of his denim jacket and revealed a white t-shirt with bulky, black letters and a red demon head, on either side of which was a flaming sword and ball flail. Little did he know, the teens had envied anyone who owned such a shirt for a long time now, though the wearers were few and far between and usually much older than they were. The teens began pelting him with questions until Steve approached and hushed them.

"Save it for later, guys," he said, fatigue evident in his voice. "For now, I've got to get you all home, where I expect you to lie low for a while."

"What about Eleven?" Mike asked.

The girl finally turned from gazing at the radio, eyes wide.

"I'll stay here with her until we figure out what to do," Joanna said, forcing a small smile. "I think we all need some time to clear our heads first."

"We don't need your parents worrying in the meantime, especially not Joyce," Steve added. "So let's get you home before she turns the town inside out looking for you."

Growing more tired by the second, Steve returned the gaggle of teens to their bikes. All tried to avoid looking at the dark and empty diner as they passed it, reminded of the gruesome start to the day. Steve found himself wondering about Joanna and how she was really holding up. His own mind felt frazzled and his body felt even more so. He didn't want to imagine what grief and fear she was shouldering. Mike, Lucas, Will, and Max were left with their bikes while Steve drove Dustin home to give the illusion that he had been at summer school the whole time. The ride there was painfully quiet. Steve frequently massaged his brow as he sunk further and further into his seat. Dustin wanted to break the silence, but knew not what to say.

When Steve finally made it home himself, he tossed his car keys onto his dresser and flopped onto his bed, burying his face in his cold, worn pillow. It did not take long for him to fall into a heavy yet none-to-restful sleep. He was jolted awake several long hours later by his grandfather shouting from the den. He could tell by the frustration in his voice that it was not his first attempt at calling out to him.

"Get your lazy ass up and answer the door!"

Steve's head lifted from his pillow with a loud breath in. His body hurt terribly, as he hadn't moved from the position he had fallen asleep in. With a bit of a growl, he wandered out into the den, where he found his grandparents sitting in their respective recliners, glued to whatever program they were watching on the TV.

"Who is it?" Steve mumbled.

He received no response other than a grunt from his grandfather. Steve rolled his eyes and, frustratedly, reached for the doorknob. He pulled the door open, and immediately his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. His hazel eyes grew wide as they were met by Hopper's face, smiling sarcastically.

"Hi!" Hopper greeted, far too gladly.

Before Steve knew it, the bearlike man's hand was grasping his camouflage shirt and pulling him out to the porch with a sharp jerk. Hopper closed the door behind him, which Steve knew was a bad sign. Every muscle in his being wanted to take off running, but he held still, straightening his shirt and running a hand through his tall hair.

"Can I help you?" he drawled, forcing a terribly awkward smile.

"I'm selling Girl Scout cookies," Hopper quipped. "Cut the crap, Harrington. Why didn't you tell me you were at Benny's Diner last night?"

"Shit..." Steve thought. "You didn't ask."

"I didn't ask?" Hopper repeated slowly, eyes squinted and brow lifted. "I know you're not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I thought you'd come up with something a little more clever than that."

"Oh, come on," Steve replied, "was the insult necessary?"

"Sorry," Hopper retorted, "I've spent all my niceties trying to find whoever murdered Benny, my friend, in cold blood. I'm running a little short on patience for snobby punks who aren't making my job any easier."

"Listen, I apologize for not telling you earlier," Steve said, raising his hands halfway. "I was in shock. I mean, he was alive and well last night and twelve hours later, I saw a bullet in his head. I didn't know what to think, much less do."

"What about Miss Diatte?"

"Who?"

"Joanna Diatte, the waitress who was there."

The corner of Steve's mouth flinched.

"And the girl who was with her. Do you know where they went?"

"Shit fuck shit damn fuck, fuck, fuck..." he thought to himself.

His hesitance spoke volumes.

"So, you do know," Hopper deduced.

Steve remained silent and stunned. He knew he was caught, but worried about what he would be risking by divulging their whereabouts.

"I'll cut you a deal that even you are too smart to refuse," Hopper sighed, lighting a cigarette. "Tell me where they are, and I'll forget your involvement."

"Take me with you," Steve argued, trying to sound confident despite shaking in his skin. "And Joanna gets immunity too... or I'll trade mine for hers... or-"

"Deal."

Steve's mouth snapped shut.

"Really?"

"Really."

Hopper banged on the door, cracking it open and peering into the den.

"He's not in trouble," he began, "but I need to take Steve on a little errand, if that's alright."

"Keep him," his grandmother barked back.

"Probably gonna end up down there with you anyway someday," his grandfather added. "Like his damned parents."

Hopper was tempted to scoff their remarks off as nothing more than teasing. He turned to look at Steve and found him with his hands shoved in his pockets and eyes looking down at his shoes. His usual charm, as annoying as Hopper found it, seemed dampened. Hopper did a double-take back at Steve's grandparents before slowly closing the door, feeling a bit heavier than he had previously.

Steve gave Hopper turn-by-turn directions as they slowly made their way to the barn. Every direction was followed by an aggressive rub of his lips or chin, and he spoke through gritted teeth. As Hopper's frustration subsided, he began to take more notice of Steve's demeanor, and felt some compassion for him.

"Hey," he said lowly, "you might have fucked up earlier, but you're doing the right thing now."

Steve continued to look out from his window, his hazel eyes reflecting off the glass. His heart sank lower and lower as they crept further and further into the wooded area. By the time the barn came into view, he felt downright sick. Worse, his breath froze in his chest when he saw six bikes lying on the ground near Joanna's car.

"Those little shitheads," he whispered.

Coming to a stop, they exited the car and slowly approached the barn. Steve rubbed his clammy hands together and swallowed dryly before reluctantly knocking on the door. His heart throbbed in his ears wildly with each grueling silent moment that passed, until at last the locks and chains could be heard from the other side. Eddie peered through the small opening.

"Back so soon, pretty boy?" he snarked.

Hopper appeared behind Steve's shoulder, glaring into Eddie's dark eyes most fiercely.

"And he's not alone," the Chief growled. "Open the door."

Eddie shot a fiery glance at Steve and held back every expletive he knew, though the tightness in his jaw and neck said it all. Steve lowered his head to the ground as Eddie undid the remaining locks. Steve and Hopper stepped into the dark, damp barn and were met by the terrified eyes of the six teens, plus Eleven. Every passing glance at them felt like a punch to Steve's gut. He could see confusion and fear in their faces. Worst of all, in Joanna's eyes, he thought he saw the look of betrayal. The last thing he had meant to do was to make her day worse. Hopper watched as everyone exchanged glances.

"You brought the police?" Eddie growled at last, unable to contain himself.

"I forced his hand," Hopper declared. "If you've got a problem with it, then take it up with me, Munson."

"Is Steve in trouble?" Dustin asked.

"Did I say he was?" Hopper retorted.

"He didn't do anything wrong," Max said, rising to her feet.

Suddenly, all six youthful voices were chiming in with their defences of Steve, Joanna, and Eddie. Hopper raised his hands halfway and pursed his lips, trying with every ounce of patience he had to not shout at them.

"I know, I know, I know," he said, as calmly as he could. "I'm not here to arrest anyone or to get anyone in trouble."

His eyes finally landed on Joanna and Eleven, who were standing together in the far right corner of the barn.

"I need to speak with you both," he said with a sigh.

Hopper stepped over to Joanna and Eleven. Eddie let out a grunt and kicked an empty soda can in Steve's direction.

"Look man, I'm sorry," Steve said.

"Bullshit, Harrington," Eddie replied.

Steve rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the teens, who all sank back in their stances.

"I told you to lie low for a while," he said quietly yet sternly. "So, did you wait a whole five minutes, or did you at least make it to ten?"

"We're sorry, Steve," Will said.

"We wanted to bring Joanna and Eleven something to eat," Mike said, gesturing to two empty pizza boxes.

Steve's brow raised.

"Where do you all keep getting this dining out money from?"

Hopper returned with Joanna walking beside him. Steve and Eddie could tell she was trying not to cry.

"Harrington held up his end of the deal," Hopper announced, "now I'll hold up mine. In my record, none of you were here tonight, including you, Munson. In fact, this barn, whatever it is, doesn't exist to me. Miss Diatte and the little girl are coming with me to the station, and you all are going to go home and never speak of this again. Am I clear?"

Max, Lucas, Mike Will, and Dustin all nodded their heads. Eddie simply huffed and walked off. Mike took notice of Eleven, who continued to stare at the radio.

"What's she doing?" he asked.

Radio static crumbled, with the occasional snippet of a hard rock song breaking through. Eleven's shoulders were slightly raised as she glared at the small machine. Joanna approached her as gently as she could.

"Come on dear," she sighed, "it's time for us to go."

Eleven appeared to not hear her. Nor did she notice that all eyes were now on her. Suddenly, her head twitched to the side. The radio clicked, and the blend of hard rock and radio static was replaced with the sound of a radio talk show.

"What the hell?" Hopper uttered.

"Okay, how did she do that?" Lucas drawled.

Her head flicked to the side once more. The radio clicked, and an opera aria, sung in another language, filled the room. Joanna thought back to the two previous strange happenings, both of which had involved Eleven; The walk-in freezer door being inexplicably locked shut, followed by the car chase ending when the front tires of their pursuant suddenly exploded. As she watched Eleven click through several more radio stations, she began to wonder...

... had she somehow caused all of that to happen?

She drew back as Steve stepped forward until they were side-by-side, watching together in awe. Eleven remained fixated on the radio until she heard from it various male voices speaking in another language, muffled by more static. Everyone leaned in to listen as the voices quickly became faster and more desperate, escalating into panicked shouts. Then, suddenly, the undeniable popping of gunshots could be heard over the airwave.

"What are we hearing right now?" Dustin asked.

"Can anyone understand what they're saying?" Will inquired.

Eleven closed her eyes and raised her hands to cover her ears. No one dared to question why. After a short time and more shouting and popping from the radio, she finally spoke over it, her voice tired and raspy.

"Under attack," she said grimly. "Blue fire."

"What?" several voices asked.

Eleven turned her body, slowly and intensely, until she faced the many stunned stares looking back at her. A small, dark drop of blood began to trickle down toward her lip from her nose.

"Blue fire," she repeated.