Thank you for reading!

"Break My Stride"

Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride

Nobody gonna slow me down, oh no

- Matthew Wilder

In the mayor's office, Hopper blew past the receptionist. If what he suspected was true, they didn't have time to wait around for an hour and a half before His Honor deigned to be seen.

As the receptionist got to her feet, indignantly calling out, "Excuse me?!", Joyce stopped in front of her desk.

"You should sit down," she said.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said sit down." Joyce held the other woman's gaze. Candace something. She recognized her from Melvald's, coming in to pick up her prescriptions, acting like she was better than the rest of Hawkins. Well, she might be better than Joyce. It was possible. But she didn't know a damned thing about what really went on around here, and Joyce wasn't about to let her stand in the way of Hopper getting some answers. He hadn't said much on the drive over, but from the grim set of his lips under his mustache, Joyce could see that he had some suspicions.

The mayor, Larry Kline, was on the phone when Hopper opened his office door, and he gestured for Hopper to come in. Which he did, locking the door behind him so they couldn't be disturbed. As Hopper took the seat on the other side of the desk, the mayor put the phone down, making a show of his reluctance. "Jim."

"I know, I know, you're busy. I'm gonna make this fast, I promise." He was paying lip service to the things polite people said to each other—but he wasn't feeling any too polite.

Larry flashed that politician's smile that Hopper had wanted to wipe off his face so many times. "Is there, uh, some kind of problem?"

"Yeah. You might say that. Um, I'm looking for the name of a guy."

"The name of a guy?"

"Yeah. I think you might know this guy."

"Okay?"

"He was here the other day. He rides a motorcycle." Motorcycles weren't common in Hawkins; Hopper had noticed this one. Remembering it, it felt all too plausible that Larry might have gotten himself mixed up with the kind of person who prowled Hawkins Lab late at night. "Big build; square jaw; dark hair. He's probably military. Maybe ex-military? Is this ringing any bells?" He knew it was; Larry knew he knew it was. It only remained to be seen how long Larry was going to want to play the game.

"Uh …" Larry spread his hands out in a gesture of helplessness and flashed the smile again. "I don't think so."

"Really." Hopper leaned forward, picking up the shiny name plaque off the desk. "'Cause it was just two days ago. It was right before I saw you."

Larry snapped his fingers like he had just figured it out. "Oh. You know what?"

"What?"

"Could be the maintenance guy."

"Maintenance," Hopper repeated.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Can't remember his name. Oh, God …" Larry closed his eyes, making a good show of trying to think of the name. "Gary or John or something. Candace will have his name on file. We've had trouble with the plumbing. Clogged toilets." He chuckled. "Sinks with minds of their own."

He was good, Hopper had to give him that. But he'd never sold Hopper on anything Hopper didn't want to be sold on, and they both knew it. "You meet with a lot of plumbers, Larry?"

"'Scuse me?"

"This guy, when I saw him, he was coming out of your office."

"Okay, well, I don't remember that." The veneer was wearing thin. They might be getting somewhere. Larry's smile had faded. "I shake a lot of hands, you know?"

Hopper put the name plaque down on the desk and leaned back in his chair, propping one foot on the edge of the desk as he and Larry tried to stare each other down. "Do you remember when I caught you passed out in the hideaway with all that powder all over your nose?"

This time, the laugh was an embarrassed one, and it didn't last. "Jim, come on, now."

"You remember when my boys found you and Candace going at it like a couple of bunnies in the back of your Cadillac?" Hopper raised his voice at that one, so Candace could hear him, trusting that Joyce could handle her. "Do you remember that? Does your wife remember that?"

Larry straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "You, uh, you really want to play this game? Huh?"

"It's not a game."

"Okay. Those pills you used to swallow like candy—I can't recall, did you have a prescription for those? How about drinking on duty?" Larry was warming to the subject now, sitting forward in his chair. "Yeah. We have some real fun stories about that." He sat back again, feeling as though he had come out on top. "One call to Tom at the Post and you're done, buddy. Gone. Oh, and please." Getting to his feet, Larry braced his hands on the desk and leaned across it. "Don't give me that daughter sob story. 'Cause I just don't care. Now, if you don't mind," he added, heading for the door, "I'm real busy."

So was Hopper, and on more important things than whatever crooked deal Larry had going today. He got out of his chair and slammed Larry's head against the door. What else did the guy expect, disrespecting Sara like that?

In the receptionist's office, Joyce and Candace had reached a détente, Candace sitting in silence and Joyce leaning against the desk, waiting. When the sound of a violent blow came from inside the mayor's office, both of them stood straight, trying to decide what to do.

"My nose!" Larry shouted, his eyes wide in shock. Apparently he hadn't expected Hopper to slip his leash. "You broke my goddamn nose!"

"Well, your friend almost killed me last night, so I'd say we're still not even."

As the sound of blows continued, Candace hurried toward the door in little mincing steps, jiggling the door handle and finding it locked. "Larry? Larry!"

"Who is this guy?" Hopper asked, ignoring the sounds of Candace trying to get in. "Is he military? Who is he?"

Larry shook his finger in Hopper's face. "You're making a big mistake. It's Arnold Schwarzenegger."

Hopper hit him again, taking some pleasure in his screams of pain. He'd had more than enough humiliating moments in this office to be happy to be getting some back.

Outside, Candace went for the phone, but before she could start dialing Joyce ripped the plug out. "Who are you calling? The police?" They both knew Hopper was the only effective person on the force.

Hopper had Larry pinned on the desk with his finger stuck in his fancy cigar cutter.

"Are you insane?" Larry roared.

"I don't know. Let's find out." He put pressure on, slowly. He had to admit, it felt pretty good to be in a fight he knew he could win.

Sure enough, it didn't take much for Larry to wave the white flag. "Be cool, be cool. I don't know his name, I swear."

A little more pressure on the finger, and Larry cried out in fear and pain. "You know him," Hopper insisted.

"He … he gives me things sometimes."

"What kind of things?"

"Money. Presents. Gifts."

"Who is this guy, Santa Claus?"

"Starcourt," Larry gasped. "Starcourt. He works for Starcourt."

Hopper wasn't sure he was hearing this right. "The mall?"

"Yes. Yes!"

"Yeah, right." Laughing at the ridiculousness of it, Hopper lifted his hand, ready to come down on the cigar chopper.

"I swear! I swear! Starcourt. They own the mall. They want to expand to east Hawkins. They needed property, some land. They didn't want to sell, so … I leaned on them a little. That's all. I swear, that's all!"

It was a crazy story … but Hopper believed it. He yanked Larry's finger out of the cigar chopper and shoved him back against the window. "Why do they want this land?"

"I don't know!"

"Do you have records of these purchases? These land purchases?"

As Hopper came toward him, Larry tried to get away and landed in his chair, staring up at Hopper with fear in his eyes that was about more than getting beat up. "You don't want to mess with these people, Jim."

"I think you should worry about yourself right now, Larry. Not about me." He held Larry's gaze, not letting him look away. "The records. Where are they?"

Larry stalled some more, clearly more afraid of the guy on the motorcycle than he was of Hopper, and Hopper threw him out the door of his office, although he did him the favor of unlocking it first.

Candace was on her feet in distress as Hopper grabbed Larry by the arms and frog-marched him out the door, which Joyce was helpfully holding open. "He's bumped his head. Just a little boo-boo, right, Larry?"

Joyce gave her best professional smile to Candace as she followed the two men. "Have a nice day." Some habits died hard.