Chapter 8: Shopping and Interviews

Hawkins, Indiana, USA

30th June 1985

Robin Buckley blew strands of her strawberry blonde hair out of her face as she watched the empty Starcourt Mall through the rolled-out shutter gates. The nautical interior decor of Scoops Ahoy was too hideous to look at this early in the Sunday morning, good God, she'd rather stay in bed and sleep all day than be here.

She was currently bored out of her goddamn mind as she leaned on the counter next to the cash register resting her chin in her hands and fiddled with her black ring on her right ring finger (heh) while wearing her... uniform, ugh. Obviously, Robin didn't expect anything else, it was after all just a job at an ice cream shop in a shopping mall. Still, her expectations were low, but holy shit.

Robin sighed. This was definitely not the way how she planned to spend her summer break. But money was tight, and she needed a job. On top of that, Steve „the Hair" Harrington, whom she still couldn't believe was actually her co-worker, was late. Again.

She would be gleeful about it because it allowed her to unabashedly criticize and mock him, using her own special brand of humor. Without consequences, she might add, something that someone like her couldn't even dream to do back in high school. It was quite a satisfying part of her day and one of the few perks this job brought her. That and at least she wasn't outside when the heat is at its worst during the summer.

But at this moment, the fact that right now the mall would be opening aaany minute now, and future customers, clients, and patrons alike are going to pour in like hungry, devouring rabbits they are. Or more like rats because there is quite an amount of chittering on their part, and she did hear them sound like that when she glanced at the closed entrance in the morning, already clambering to enter Starcourt as soon as possible.

And Steve Harrington was late. Again. Later than usual as matter of fact. She already had numerous theories in her mind. She stood up straight, folded her arms, and put a finger on her chin in a scholarly thinking manner.

"Alrighty then", she bemusedly told herself, "Let's seeee. Theory number one: The King of Hawkins High has woken up this morning with a bald head and realized that his big, shiny, fancy hair is missing and he's currently crying in his bedroom, too ashamed to face the real world."

Robin giggled as she shook her head. The amount of care he put into maintaining it was ridiculous. She swore that even those middle-aged housewives who wore those dumb haircuts didn't put that much attention on it.

She continued.

"Okay, okay theory number two: he got into a fight with this bunch of bloodsucking bats last night and became a scary vampire. Whiiiich would actually be pretty cool, I have to admit." She told herself. Then she chuckled and shook her head. "Or more likely fled at the sight of them."

Robin couldn't imagine Steve Harrington fighting against monsters, she just can't. He would definitely run away screaming for his dear life and holding his hair protectively, oh my god she would love to see that!

"Moving on, theory number three: he hooked up with some chick and spent a night over at her place… hrphm, HA, yeah right!" Robin snorted a laugh at the idea. She has been keeping up a score for the past two weeks. He sucked. "Not likely. Okay theory number fou-"

"Attention everyone," Robin looked up, the public speakers snapping her out of her inner musings while an officious female voice announced, "Starcourt will now open."

"Oooh, shit!" she swore as she went to turn on the cherry (barf-inducing) music, bitterly put on her Scoops Ahoy sailor hat (think of the money Buckley), and quickly opened the shutter gates, unlocking them and pushing them upwards. Robin could hear other fast-food restaurants in the Food court and shops doing the same thing, preparing for the long summer day. Robin also noticed some small kiosks selling small Stars and Stripes flags and fireworks for the upcoming 4th of July festival. She actually wanted to go there for once.

As she turned her head, she quickly glanced to her side at the glowing new neon commercial ad on the wall for a new soda, The Gem with an orange flavour, with the words "Sponsored by Transigen " and "Coming soon" underlined at the bottom.

'Huh, they probably put it earlier in the morning, because it was not there last night.' She thought as the light reflected on her freckled face. 'Though how will they compete against the New Coke?'

Robin decided to ignore it as she voiced her final theory.

"Okay Robin, theory number four for which you know it to be 100 percent true: Harrington overslept and now you have to deal with the customers allll on your own, ooh boy, oh boy." She grumbled. She could already hear a crowd of people entering, chittering and chittering.

Oh great, just great.

She knew working with him would be…well it wasn't exactly a nightmare per se, but it was still annoying as hell. The first time she heard Steve Harrington will be her co-worker over the summer, she didn't exactly know what to think of him. Oh, she knew the actual reason why he was working with her here in the first place was that he couldn't achieve enough high scores for college.

Heh, guess dear old daddy was incapable of pulling strings to get his dear precious little son in. The brief, dark glare she got when she once offhandedly mentioned it confirmed it even more so. Though honestly, she didn't think he'd hear it.

As she went behind the counter, Robin watched the customers walk around and examined the shops and restaurants in Starcourt, their faces still displaying wonder, awe, and curiosity. Even after two months.

Robin herself would be amazed too but working here was giving her anti-social nausea. And developed hateful scorn for shopping centers.

Anyways, she continued her recollecting.

Although over time her opinion of Harrington after a while did change. Just a bit. They both started working just a month ago, which in hindsight isn't that long after they did that…TV promo which they were obliged to do (she still shuddered at the memory) and from day one Robin somehow knew this summer will be a godawful experience.

Expect it wasn't as, while Harrington didn't quite manage to hit it off with the ladies (odd given his reputation) he has shown a much more…surprisingly nicer side. Softer even.

After a while, he told her privately he did try to get rolled in Indiana Tech at Fort Wayne but failed to do so and so his douchebag of dad is trying to teach him a lesson. Also, from time to time, a group of kids would come at Scoops Ahoy and just…annoy the hell out of Harrington. Not in a typical how kids can be cruel type back in school, but more…like they're his little brothers and sisters. It was almost like he was their babysitter or even better their mom; it was pretty funny as well as mysterious.

That and sometimes they used his job as a means to enter the cinema theatre through the back corridor without paying for the tickets.

Little rascals.

She chuckled in spite of her earlier annoyance. Despite the fact that Robin didn't communicate that much with them, she was nevertheless quite fond of them. Although one of them looked oddly familiar.

A loud chatter interrupted her thoughts. A couple, a girl and a boy her age, she recognized from high school, walked by Scoops Ahoy, holding hands and chatting excitedly without a care in the world.

For a brief moment, as Robin watched them go, she wondered if she could ever do that in public…

She shook her head. Now is not the time for those stupid thoughts.

Just as Robin was about to resign herself to a fate of sailing solo today (ha), guess who she sees sprinting towards her at full speed in a cartoonish sailor outfit looking like freaking Popeye…

"Good morning Dingus," she greeted him with her arms crossed, adding as much false cheeriness as possible, "I hope you had a full night's sleep because I certainly hadn't," she nearly growled.

He stopped just in time, barely avoiding hitting the counter.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late," breathed out Steve Harrington, very much out of breath, but somehow his hair immaculate, "but I had something important come up last night and I…well I fell asleep okay!" he exclaimed with a thin sheet of sweat covering his face.

Both went inside the backroom to look at the charts on the board.

"What, you actually managed to score last night?" Robin skeptically asked, with a good hint of smugness.

Harrington sighed as he grabbed a towel nearby and he swiped his forehead and cheeks. "No. God, I wish but no," he muttered.

'Yeah, I bet.' She thought scornfully.

"Well, you better get ready because, by the sound of it, we're gonna get a looot of ice cream hungry customers today." She stated. "Hopefully, not too much." She hopefully added, fingers crossed.

The noise of the crowd was already turning into an omnipresent echo, the chatter filling up the entirety of Starcourt. And getting louder and louder. Robin was already getting such a migraine that she wished she had some aspirin on her.

"Yeah well, I doubt that's gonna last long." Robin heard him whisper, fiddling with the towel.

"Oh yeah? Why is that dingus?" Robin deadpanned.

Harrington then suddenly turned to face her; his expression oddly serious. "Wait. You haven't heard?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

Robin furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "Heard what?"

Harrington for some reason looked…reluctant as if he was debating whether or not to tell her something.

"Heard what?" she repeated, now annoyed. What was sooo mysterious that Steve Harrington had to-

"There was a fire last night," he explained promptly, "up north, at a farm. I don't know if you know them, or you if heard of them…but it belonged to the Munsons. They…they died in it."

Steve's face became grim as looked down while Robin struggled to comprehend what she just heard.

The Munsons…?

Suddenly she remembered a guy named Nathan Munson.

"Dead? L-Like you mean…" she stuttered in shock.

"Yeah," Steve's face was also for some reason conflicted, "I know Hopper, the Chief of police, he…he was the one who got the call about it."

There was a dark, ominous look on Steve's face as if he survived a horror movie.

"Oh my god," she whispered, putting her hands on her mouth.

Steve nodded grimly. "Yeah."

"I…I d-don't know what to say. I mean I think I've heard of a guy named Nathan Munson. F-from what I understood he's, I mean," she corrected herself, still trying to process what she'd heard, "was into rodeo."

"Yeah, he used to compete in those. I mean I didn't know him personally, but Nancy, um my ex, she uh, she knew him." Steve added, rubbing his neck.

Robin shuddered. A sense of déjà vu settled in her soul. For some reason, there was something wrong. I mean, yeah, people dying in fires was tragic and horrifying, but still…this somehow felt more sinister.

Two years ago, some kid goes missing in the woods, and everyone thought he was dead. Then Barbara Holland and that Radio Shack guy died in that strange chemical leak. Which for some reason a local laboratory tried to cover up?

She started to nervously fiddle with her golden chain. "I mean, how? How did it happen? Why did it happen? I-" her breathing got quicker.

Robin was overwhelmed. She had so many questions. She wanted to ask Harrington for more details, to see if he knew more but stopped as she also saw a stream of customers coming their way through the window.

"Look," he interrupted her, holding out his hands in a placating manner, "I know you have some questions, no wait scratch that, I know you have a lot, but I suggest you save them for our lunch break at least. Because it looks like we'll be busy for a while." He jerked his head in the omnipresent direction of the people milling around.

She gulped and nodded.

"That is until…until the rest of Hawkins finds out what happened." Robin pointed out.

Another dark look passed over Harrington's face. "Yeah." He agreed.

Robin Buckley didn't like how that 'yeah' sounded ominous.


Nancy poured hot coffee for her…co-workers, she restrained herself from growling, while thinking about, well, everything really. The entire Hawkins Post was in a flurry of frantic movements, reporters shouting over each other, trying to get the details for a story from last night while secretaries, with tiredness so clear on their faces, tried to accomplish the tasks they'd been given. Nancy felt a great bout of empathy for them. She knew they felt the same way about her. Every time she was mocked by her colleagues, they watched with sympathy in their eyes.

It's been like this ever since she and Jonathan arrived at work in the morning. Jonathan was immediately ordered to go to the darkroom to develop photographs from the aftermath of the fire. If the Post was already in a state of uproar like this, Nancy could easily imagine what will the reaction of the entire Hawkins be like. And so close to the 4th of July festival.

Her eyes glanced at the note, the words disease, and rats written clearly and underlined on it with Doris Driscoll's address. She was focused on it she failed to notice the cup overflowing with coffee. She found out the hard way.

"Shit!" she swore, as hot, scalding brown liquid fell on her left wrist. "Shit!"

"Whoopsie-daisy!" Nancy heard Bruce's guffawing as she turned around, cradling her reddened wrist. "Careful there, Nancy Drew. Careful." He mocked, sitting at his table, his ugly face smirking at her. He even had the audacity to condescendingly wave his pen at her, the bastard.

Other men snickered as Bruce continued "Pouring coffees is a tough gig for a girl." This sent the men roaring with laughter.

For a moment, Nancy entertained herself with a vivid, almost crystal-clear image of Bruce Lowe being drenched in hot coffee and screaming in pain. It was satisfying enough to make her smile and pretend to nod at that insult. Although she still gritted her teeth. Why was he here and not doing his job, say going outside and interviewing someone about fire or anything really she had no idea, but she guessed it was because it would mean getting his lazy ass up and doing some actual work.

Dickhead.

Tom probably sent someone long before she and Jonathan came to the Post, she reasoned. And although she loathed to admit it, he did talk over the phone the entire time, talking and writing notes, gathering information.

Doesn't make him any less of a dick.

As she turned around and turned on the cold water on the facet to wash her wrist, she once again turned her gaze at the note. While Nancy was cleaning up the mess she unintentionally made, it made her stare at the scar on her palm from that fateful night. And made an uneasy feeling settle in her gut.

Fire at the Munson farm. A cover-up. Another kid or kids with powers running around. Running away from the bad guys. Innocent people who got killed and then their bodies were disposed of as if they were some…back-alley trash.

It disgusted her.

And enraged her.

Nancy wouldn't even go to work today; she would rather go out there and try to find some clues or evidence. She even memorized each individual face from the photo Hopper found in case they run into them so they could help them in any way. Ironically, she would act just like Nancy Drew, oh dear God.

As she once again glanced at the words diseased rats, an idea came to her. And a theory. Nancy Wheeler maybe can't investigate the fire itself, but she can definitely investigate this. And use the information she obtained in whatever way it could help. Hopper will disagree, but the results will speak for themselves.

As she went around the office, handing coffee to assholes who called themselves reporters while ignoring their condescending thanks and/or veiled insults (hope you choke on it), she went to the office of Chief Editor, Tom Holloway.

Nancy knocked as she entered Holloway's office and found him looking over some reports. Tom looked up from his papers, his glasses hanging loosely around his head.

"And here you are Tom," She greeted him cheerfully, "two creams and two sugars, just like you love it."

She handed him the cup of coffee. "Thanks, sweetheart," Tom said absentmindedly as he looked down again. For some reason, he seemed…tired. And a bit bleary-eyed.

"Of course," Nancy replied. "It's everything alright Tom? You're looking a bit down." She observed. Despite the general dickishness of her co-workers, Tom was at least a professional. However, that didn't stop him from smirking or sometimes even laughing at one of many of Bruce's jabs or insults at her, like yesterday.

Tom raised his head and blinked at her. "Oh, oh yes. Everything is alright." He answered but somehow his tone was…a sad one. "It just…this fire." Nancy sombrely nodded. "Makes me worry about my family, that's all." He explained shortly.

Nancy couldn't stop the painful pang in her heart. So many families in Hawkins. And now any one of them could be a target at any moment, even her own. Tom himself looked like he aged ten years in one night, his grey hair turning greyer.

Nevertheless, Nancy nodded. Then she went for it. "I know, I know. Um, hey, Tom?"

"Hm?" He looked up at her.

"I really hate to ask you for this," Nancy continued, scrunching up her face a bit, "but do you think one of the other girls could run and grab lunch for today?" she pretended to be shy about it.

"Um, why? They're needed at their desks." He stated the obvious.

"Oh, I know, I know, I just, um… I really need to go to the doctor." She said quietly.

Tom's brows furrowed. "What for?"

As Tom watched her with confusion while he drank his coffee, Nancy leaned down and whispered conspiratorially. "I've been having some…you know…girl problems."

As she predicted, Tom choked on his coffee and started to cough. Nancy went around the desk and patted him on the back.

"Oh, of cou-rse," he replied nervously, as he used a napkin to wipe the coffee spilled on his desk, "take all the time you need sweetheart." He completely averted eye contact with her.

"Thank you so much, Tom," Nancy said sweetly, throwing in a bright smile, even though he didn't see it.

As Nancy left Tom's office she went over to grab her purse, pen, and notebook and rushed discreetly to the Hawkins Post dark room. Abruptly opening the door, the darkened red light greeted her, along with Jonathan's complaints.

"Oh, come on! The light!" he yelled, pointing at the opened door.

Nancy ignored that. "Let's go." She said as she did close the door of the dark room, for Jonathan diligently worked to develop those photos, diligent enough to impress nearly the entirety of Hawkins Post.

'Even though it was quite obvious they'd liked him no matter what he did.' She thought bitterly.

Jonathan blinked and put the pincers for handling photos. "Let's go where?

"To Doris Driscoll's place." She declared; determination clear in her eyes.

He groaned as he went to stand in front of her. "Oh, come on Nance, do you really think it is a good idea to do this? Right now?" Jonathan pointed out.

"Yes," Nancy insisted, "I actually think it is a great idea."

"Well, did you even ask Tom?"

"Kinda."

"Really?"

"No."

"Nancy."

"Jonathan, we ask for forgiveness, not permission," Nancy said, rather wisely in her opinion.

"Well, what if the old lady is actually nuts, this story blows up in our faces and we get fired?" Jonathan countered, crossing his arms.

"Well, we never have to work in this shithole again." Jonathan gave her that look. The one that said I don't like working here any more than you do, but money is needed. "Besides, I'm not doing this so I can get a story for the Post but rather for…" Nancy glanced at her side.

"For what?"

"…to see if it is connected with the cover-up." She said quietly.

Jonathan's eyes widened at that. Although they were alone, he still looked around. "Um, Nancy, how could this be connected to that?" he whispered.

"I don't know Jonathan," she tried to explain, "I just…I just have this gut feeling-"

"Gut feeling?" Jonathan raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, gut feeling." She persisted proudly. "Which I have to remind you actually proved right in the past. Not just for me but for your mother as well." She pointed out. "Twice by my count."

Jonathan rolled his eyes and nodded. "Okay, I mean, yes you do have point, but Hopper said we need to stay low and be on guard."

"Yes, that is why we should investigate this and not…the arson. Besides, we have the walkie-talkie to report anything suspicious." Nancy stated the obvious.

Jonathan still looked skeptical.

"And what if we run into those guys who are responsible for this?" he pointed out.

"May I remind you I own an illegal firearm." She replied confidently.

"Yes. You made that very clear this morning." Jonathan deadpanned.

When she casually pulled her revolver out of her purse, she left a few people surprised, mainly Max and Will. Hopper however didn't object. Most likely because he knew Nancy was a crack shot with it and due to the circumstances. Either way, at least they had some fighting chance. It was currently hidden away in the storage compartment of Jonathan's car.

"Look, I still think it's worth looking…into…" Nancy would have persisted but trailed off when she saw...

"Nancy?" Jonathan asked her, concerned by the sudden silence from his girlfriend.

Nancy didn't respond. She just stared at one of the pictures that were being developed. It was a pile of black, charred wood. The kind of pile that would have resembled a house just yesterday.

A home. A home which belonged to…

Jonathan turned around and saw what Nancy was staring at. Both of them were quiet as they saw photo after photo develop and with it, saw the carnage, the after-effects of the blazing inferno. House, barn, trees…all of it gone. Destroyed. It was…haunting.

It made her remember…

"I actually went to Nathan's one time." Nancy didn't know if Jonathan turned to face her or not, but she knew he was listening. "For his birthday party, I think it was his twelfth, back in '79. It was a beautiful place; you would have loved it. A nice two-story white house. A red barn to a side. A corn field that leads to a forest behind it. And horses. First time I saw any of them so up close. They were so pretty. I was with…I was with Barbara." Her tone was hollow. "She loved them as well."

Jonathan still didn't say anything.

"And now…" her breath hitched, "now it's all gone." Nancy felt her eyes water. "And it's happening again. Just like Barb. Innocent people got killed. They killed them…because they got in their way." She sobbed. "Because they helped someone who's being…hunted…"

She turned away so she could wipe the tears streaming down her face.

They didn't deserve this.

"I'm s-sorry I-" she hiccupped.

"No. Don't apologize Nance. It's not your fault." Jonathan gently says, putting a comforting hand on her back.

Nancy didn't respond. She still wiped tears off her cheeks as she sniffed.

"Come here." Jonathan took Nancy into his arms, and she reciprocated. Both were silent in the darkroom while the red light reflected all around them, holding each other. Nancy was deeply, deeply glad Jonathan was there for her in these dark moments. She could hear Murray Bauman whispering "shared trauma".

"Maybe this whole thing with the rats and the fire could be connected." She heard Jonathan say. "Or maybe it isn't. But for what it's worth," Nancy looked up, locking eyes with him, "I agree. At least we should look into it." He put forward his left hand, spreading it across and revealing his own scar on his palm.

Nancy put her own left hand forward and matched it with Jonathan's, connecting their scars in one line.

"You thi-think so?" she quietly asked.

"Yes."

Nancy smiled and pulled her arm as she wiped away her tears. "I'm just glad you understand."

"Oh, and if we ran into those who are being…well, hunted?" he asked.

"We help them." Nancy fiercely replied.

Jonathan chuckled. "Right, of course."

Hastily, they prepared themselves for Nancy's very first interview, and as soon as Jonathan had his camera and other necessary equipment ready, they went outside, the empty streets and the heat of the sun welcoming them.

"Are you alright?" Jonathan asked her.

"Yeah, I mean," both of them approached Jonathan's Ford Galaxy, "It's just, you know. Again, some assholes killed innocent people, and once again someone is trying to cover it up. I am so…"

"Mad?" Jonathan easily guessed.

"Yes." She confirmed, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Believe me, so am I."

Yeah, Jonathan wasn't the one to get angry easily. Nancy knew why was because of his dad. And Jonathan didn't want to be like him. Ever.

But everyone had their limits.

They were just inches away from entering the car. However, just as about they're going to open the doors-

*VROOOOM

"WOAH!" exclaimed Jonathan as out of nowhere a blue muscle car sped past them too much close for comfort and nearly hit Jonathan. He moved out of the way just in a nick of time.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Nancy yelled at it, briefly running after them. "Watch where you are going asshole!" she screamed. Though the driver didn't even slow down, the son of a bitch. Or just bitch.

Breathing heavily, Nancy watched for a brief moment as the blue car got smaller and smaller in the distance and she turned around to see if Jonathan is alright. "Are you OK?" she asked him in concern as she approached him. He was clutching his chest and breathing harshly in shock.

"Y-yeah, yeah I am," he calmed down a bit, "but...I recognize that car." He stared at the road on which the car went.

She frowned. "You do?"

Now when she thinks about it, it was familiar to her as well.

"Yes. I think it belongs to…Billy Hargrove."

Nancy blinked. "Billy Hargrove? As in Max's stepbrother?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed down.

"As in the guy that nearly drove over Mike, Dustin, and Lucas on Halloween?" Nancy felt her rage flare.

Jonathan's eyes darkened. "Yeah." He said, knowing he felt the same.

"As in the guy who nearly beaten Steve to death that night?"

Jonathan didn't have to say anything else but still, he nodded grimly.

Nancy, like Jonathan and Joyce, was in shock when they found Steve, Mike and the rest of the kids did not stay in the house as they were told and had in fact just gotten back from those tunnels no less, just when they got back from Hoppers cabin. Nancy wanted to yell at them, to ask what's wrong with them but then they were even more shocked when they saw Steve's bruised and bloodied face.

They thought it was a work of the Demodogs, but instead, it was a blonde mullet teenager who was responsible for it, passed out on the living room floor with a needle in his neck.

Getting that bastard out of the house was a hassle.

"Are you sure?" she once again asked to be sure.

Jonathan nodded firmly.

Nancy glanced back in the direction where the blue car went, a Camaro she recognized, and wondered.

'Why on Earth was Billy Hargrove in such a hurry?'


Max sat near a small ventilator, one of the few that were positioned around the Byers' household, letting its fans cool her a bit and causing her long, curly red hair to drift. It was still so goddamn hot!

The heat wave will pass shortly my ass.

She wouldn't be here in the first place, hell she wanted to yell at Hopper herself for ordering them to stay here like they're a bunch of helpless babies! She still couldn't believe that others actually agreed with him.

Each, well, most of the split groups had walkie-talkies, in case there was a need to report something or check-in. Mostly to check in on them.

Max knew that was unfair. They're out there, trying to find out what happened while they were stuck here.

They can help.

It was only because of Eleven. She was shocked that El actually agreed to stay here, but then she mouthed 'later' when the grown-ups weren't looking, as of way of explaining it on its own.

She has a plan. But what kind of plan does she have in mind?

Max looked around the living room in which they were currently situated. Will, Eleven, and Mike were sitting on the couch while Dustin sat on the foldable chair to their left while he fanned himself with his hat, the same chair he was in when Hopper questioned him. Max herself sat in the chair on the right, with Lucas sitting on one of the arms.

El was still clutching that picture with the kids and, from what they could confirm, a nurse. Every once in a while she would just stare at it. Trying to see more. Gazing at each of their individual faces, her own face mixed with worry, confusion and just trying to make the sense of it.

That shocked her. I mean, yeah she was still pretty much stunned by the fact there are things such as people with actual superpowers, monsters from another world, and secret government conspiracies and experimentations.

Okay, that last part to Max always seemed kinda like a half-truth, half-lie. The fact that a government would cover something up to save their asses always made sense to her, but this…supernatural sci-fi stuff was always something out of a comic book. Even after, what, eight months, she still couldn't wrap her head around it, despite the fact that El, Lucas, and the rest of the boys explained everything or most of it to her.

A sound from the TV snaps her out of her inner thoughts.

They were watching the news on TV. It wasn't an activity in which ki-

…*Ahem*, in which teenagers would indulge. However, the circumstances were different. Because it was the news about last night's fire. Secretly arson/murder cover-up. Their eyes were glued to the screen.

"I am Cecilia Walters, reporting live for Channel 9 News here in Hawkins, east Roane County." a middle-aged black lady said. "Today sadly, from what we can confirm, I am here to report a tragedy. Last night, a fire occurred on the farmland that belonged to a now-deceased Munson family."

Images of black, charcoal rubble were shown. Remains of a house that was burned down, as well as several torched trees in the background. Max could see smoke still smoldering in the air.

A sad pang echoed in her heart as she unconsciously grabbed Lucas's hand, whom himself sat to her right. He squeezed it back in comfort.

'Those poor people.'

"The bodies of William Munson, age 43, a Vietnam war veteran, his wife Kathryn Munson, age 41, and their son, Nathan Munson, age 18, a junior rodeo competitor, were found in the burned-out pile that was once their home. Their relatives in Oakland have been notified."

Max saw Mike from the periphery of her vision, putting comforting hands on El's shoulders as she herself actually put down the picture on the coffee table and covered her mouth with her hands with a shocked and sad expression. Will tensed, gripping the arm seat of the couch, eyes wide. Dustin stopped fanning himself and just stared at the screen with unblinking attention, hardly breathing.

"Officials report this tragic occurrence as a result of an electric fault in a junction box."

"Oh, come on!" Dustin called out, pointing at the TV with his hat.

"Really?" Lucas couldn't believe it.

"Seriously?" Neither could Will.

"Yeah right." Mike angrily scoffed.

"Bullshit," Max herself added.

"Yeah, bullshit." Eleven mimicked her, removing her hand from her mouth.

Max smirked. El sometimes did that, imitating the way she said some things. She was also thankful she didn't repeat some other stuff, stuff that Hopper wouldn't like to hear. Like "a happy scream", shit, she hoped she didn't say that at loud.

The reporter continued, ignorant of their loud skepticism.

"However, several questions do remain. Is this truly just an unfortunate and tragic event or is it possible it could be connected to several other incidents that occurred in the recent past? After all, the small town of Hawkins has its fair share of mysterious affairs and tragedies."

Warily, right next to the picture, everyone eyed the yellow Walkman with small bloody fingertips that lay on the coffee table. No one dared to touch it, not even Eleven. Ironically, Max thought of buying a Walkman herself because she recently heard that Kate Bush will release a new album in September.

Now, she was having reservations about buying it at all.

"The mysterious disappearance, supposed death, and then reappearance of a local middle-schooler William Byers nearly two years ago", Will squirmed uncomfortably while avoiding their stares, "and a chemical gas leak caused by Hawkins National Laboratory which itself caused the deaths of local high-schooler Barbara Holland and a local Radio Shack employee Robert Newby, leading to its shutdown last of December."

Max lowered her head, as did the rest. She didn't know Barbara herself, but she did know she was Nancy's best friend. And she saw how Nancy acted throughout the entire ordeal after the Lab was shut down. Sad but looked like a giant stone has been lifted off her chest as they could finally arrange a decent funeral for Barbara. And from what she's been told, closure for her parents.

As for Bob Newby, the man was responsible for getting Hopper, Mrs. Byers, Will, and Mike to safety, when those dog monsters swarmed that entire lab building. By their accounts, it sounded like a horror flick. And Bob Newby managed to save them from that. At a cost of his own life.

Even though she didn't know him as well, in her mind he was a hero.

"Many more questions remain, and many more answers are surely wanted. Tune in tonight at eight on Channel 9 for more news."

With that, the news coverage ended. What followed was a brief uncomfortable silence, interrupted by a commercial for some new kid's toy. Max bet that's how Will felt just a few seconds ago.

"Sooo, what do we do? We can't just stay here all day." Lucas stated the obvious while Will used the remote to lower the volume a bit.

Usually, they would hang out or might even plan something for the 4th of July festival that is on Thursday. Or they would have if El and Mike hadn't started to…

Max turned her head to examine those two. When Dustin said how "real friends" great each other with Steve this morning or when Will mentioned their earlier departure yesterday, she saw them wince. In guilt.

'Oh, do they finally see how they're acting?' she thought sarcastically.

Max sighed. She honestly didn't blame them, but she really missed her time spending it with El. Finally, she manages to get a female friend, not just boys, but someone she could share her interests and hobbies with, something she just couldn't do with them. Someone whom she didn't even have back in California.

"We have to do something at least," Mike declared, clenching his fists. "I mean, those…sons of bitches killed innocent people because they helped someone like Eleven! Who knows who could be next in Hawkins?" he frowned, no doubt thinking about his family.

Max knew others were worrying about the same thing; Dustin was concerned about his mom, Lucas anxious for his parents and his little sister Erica, who were at the forefront of his mind ever since they heard about the fire, she knew him well, and Will and El, well she didn't have mind reading powers, but she knew they felt the same way about Mrs. Byers, Jonathan, and Hopper.

And while Max didn't wish to think about it, she secretly hoped that Billy was okay at least and somewhere safe.

Yeah, he's a mega asshole and a douchebag for sure, but the last few months were…not good, but tolerable. Besides, just because she didn't like him doesn't mean she wanted him dead.

Even though sometimes she privately thought otherwise.

She was also glad that Mom was out of town for now with Neil.

"Actually, I think someone will do something." Dustin suddenly said out loud. So, he too noticed that El had a secret plan. "You," he said, turning around and pointing at Eleven with his hat, "have a plan." He correctly guessed.

Eleven stood up straighter and nodded.

"She does?" Lucas was surprised.

"You do?" Mike too.

Max rolled her eyes, annoyed by their cluelessness. "Of course she does, you pair of dinguses!" Lucas and Mike glared at her. "She's gonna…" Max blinked and addressed El. "What you're gonna do?"

"Yeah, I knew you were up to something when you actually agreed with Hopper," Will added, curious himself.

Eleven took a deep breath. "I am going to find them." She declared, holding the photo for everyone to see. Max could clearly see the unflinching determination on her face.

Max wanted to slap her forehead. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin actually did that.

"Oh, yeah!" Lucas says. "Because you can find people."

"Through the Void, oh my god, how could I forget," Dustin exclaimed, covering his face.

"We only need some static," Mike stated, thinking out loud. "Thank God we no longer need a bathtub and a ton of salt."

"You don't?" Will asked El.

"No, I can do it without them now." She answered.

"I actually never saw you do that." he softly replied, looking a bit down.

Max briefly glanced at him in pity and saw others doing that as well. From what she understood, Will was always left out of the loop in these types of situations. More so than her, and she was the last one to find out about these whole monsters from another dimension stuff.

"Well now you will." she said to him as she turned around to ask El, "What do you need El?".

Eleven's brows furrowed. "You know what I need." She says, confused.

"Um, no, I don't." Max denied, shaking her head.

Eleven blinked, lowered her head a bit, and gave her a look.

Okay, okay, they did have that innocent, little secret just between the two of them…that involved spying on people. But it was for fun only, not as if they were spying on governments and stuff like that! Just…you know, boys and stuff like that.

The first time they did it, it was on the boys. When El took off that scarf and laughed, Max couldn't help to laugh with her, 'cause she saw the boys engage in a farting contest. They didn't have to know that. And what they don't know, won't hurt them.

Mike frowned. "Wait, did you two…?" he tried to guess, looking back and forth between El and Max.

"Did what?" Lucas asked.

Max cut him off. "So, you need something to cover your face, right?"

Mike looked at Max suspiciously while Eleven stared at her for a few seconds and then she sighed. "Yes. And the TV," she looked at the wooden electric box, "it will do."

"We still need something for covering your eyes," Dustin said, thinking out loud.

"I think I left my bandana at my house." Lucas groaned.

"Um, well I think Jonathan has a headband somewhere in his room-" Will said, putting down the remote.

"He does?" Dustin asks, surprised.

"Um yeah, it was this new look he tried, when he was still in middle school, but that didn't last very long." Will muttered, "Let me take a look," he said, getting off the couch to retrieve it.

"El, are you sure you want to do this?" Mike asked as Will left the living room. "I mean, what if you…don't find them?" he said, conflicted.

Eleven frowned, and so did Max and the rest.

"I can find them." Eleven replied, not knowing what he meant by that.

"I know, I know, but what if you do find them, but they are…" Mike trailed off.

Her brown eyes widened, "Gone?" El whispered, in fearful sadness.

"Yeah," Mike confirmed, distressed by the idea.

Ah shit, Max hoped that wasn't the case. The last thing Eleven needed to see was her potential brother or sister or plural, dead. She too was getting anxious about the possibility.

"Well, you still got to find them," Lucas said, although he himself looked disturbed.

"And if there's more of them, we need to find them and help them," Dustin added, uncomfortable himself.

Suddenly Dustin got up, put on his hat, went to the TV, and started to mess with it.

"Dude, what are doing?" Lucas asked him, perplexed.

Dustin didn't answer immediately. He fiddled with the antenna in one hand while turning the tuner left and right with the other, changing channels rapidly.

"Since we are stuck here for now and we can't get to Cerebro, which by the way could be very cool if you did your thing with it yesterday," Dustin said to Eleven, not looking at her "before you two left." He added.

Max didn't know if he said that offhandedly or was meant to be an accusation. Probably both.

Mike and El looked at each other, wordlessly communicating in the way couples do, like her and Lucas. Then they looked away. In shame and guilt, Max realized.

"Okay you guys look." Mike decided to address Max, Lucas, and Dustin, gazing at each of their faces. "Hopper had a talk with us last night, with me and El. Before he was called in because of the fire."

"A talk?" Lucas asked, frowning.

"What talk?" Max asked as well.

"About the two of us," Eleven continued, gesturing at herself and Mike, "spending too much time together."

Aaah, hence the long faces the entire morning.

"And?" Dustin questioned, still tinkering with the antenna, not looking at them.

"Well, um, Hopper said that he thinks that we…um…" Mike tried to explain, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uneasy.

"We are di-tching you behind." El finished, embarrassed herself.

Static appeared on the TV screen.

"Well, he ain't wrong," Dustin said, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the TV. Nodding his head, satisfied with the results.

Finally, he turned around to face them. "I came back yesterday after a month. I mean, I didn't see you guys for a while, and I missed you," he says, looking upset.

Mike and El lowered their heads.

"We know," Mike mumbled.

"And then, I find out about a murder-slash-arson-slash-cover-up from the bad guys through Cerebro. What if something happened to you two?" Dustin said. "Or to the two of you," he pointed at Max and Lucas. "Or to Will?"

Will returned just in time to hear that last part. He stopped right at the doorway, holding a bandana in his hands.

"Or to Will?" Will repeats, frowning.

"Remember what I said. They said to search the forest after they burned down a farm, so they could cover up a murder. Which means you could have been killed." Dustin was distressed.

Max shivered. Jesus, last night, she was messing around with Lucas in the forest, and what if…shiit they could have run into those assholes and really could have gotten themselves killed. She started to nervously scratch the back of her neck.

Lucas slowly dragged his hands across his face as he came to the same conclusion while Will paled, eyes widening as he clutched the bandana in his hands.

"Oh, God…" Mike whispered, putting hands on his face.

Eleven didn't say anything at all. She just stared into the distance, horrified by the yesterday's possibility.

"Holy shit," Max whispered, looking down. "Just two days ago, we-"

"Guys, are you there?" Everyone snapped their attention at the walkie-talkie on the table. "This Nancy. I'm calling to check in with you. Over."

Mike was the one who answered, leaning forward in order to pick up the small device and pulling the small antenna. "Yeah Nancy, we're here. Over."

Max and the rest watched him.

"Okay. What are you doing? Over."

"We're…" Mike looked around, glancing at each of them, "watching the news on TV. Over." He said, which was true…just a few minutes ago.

"The news? Really Mike? Over." Max could practically taste Nancy's skepticism.

"…It's about the fire. Over." Mike hesitantly explained.

"Oh, I see. Just stay put. OK? Over." Nancy replied, subdued. Max wondered if she knew Nathan Munson as well. Judging by her saying that Nathan used to compete in rodeos, she probably did.

"Ok. Over."

"Over and out."

Silence reigned for a brief moment. Then Eleven suddenly got up, picked up the picture, and went to sit in front of the TV in a meditation pose.

"Will. The bandana. Please." She held out her hand.

Will snapped out and went over to El to give her a bandana.

Eleven briefly stared at the black fabric and then at the picture. Then she put on the bandana, covering her eyes.

"Okay," Mike whispered, "here we go."

Everyone leaned forward to watch her.

As Max briefly glanced at Dustin, she guessed the discussion is going to have to wait a while.


Billy parked his Camaro right near the entrance of Starcourt Mall, stopping just in time to perfectly park it in the right space, the tires screeching briefly. Several people nearby saw that and stared at him for a few seconds, but then they went on their way, ignoring him. They probably thought he was the new guy who wanted to see the new shopping mall and thought little of it, despite the fact he looked like he breached a speed limit. They also probably thought he just wanted to show off.

Billy himself didn't care much about speed limits at all, he needed some carefree adrenaline to clear his mind. Although he was rational enough to avoid hitting someone's car. And people of course. That was stupid what he did earlier, nearly running over that couple, but shit Billy was in a rush!

'Why did they look familiar?' he wondered.

Billy shook his head. "Never mind that." He muttered.

Taking in a deep, calming breath and running his fingers through his blonde, curly mullet hair, he prepared himself as he's got important work to do today.

"For fucks sake, calm down Hargrove it's just shopping supplies for a quick road trip." He told himself to calm his nerves.

Billy first went to his home at Cherry Lane before coming here and got dressed in something casual; a white sleeveless shirt, blue jeans, and black buckle boots. He was also deeply glad that Max wasn't there because he didn't have time for that shitbird's stupid little questions. She was probably having a sleepover with that friend of hers, the skinny one with curly brown hair that had a face that reminded him of a deer caught in the headlights at night when he came home one morning earlier than usual.

He would have pressed on, asking who's she, but a glare from Max reminded him of their arrangement. He leaves her and her friends alone, and she leaves him alone. He didn't care where she was now, as long as it was somewhere with plenty of people, which meant she's safe.

At least he hoped so.

Billy shook his head as he shut down the car, slid out of the driver's seat, and left it. Locking it, Billy turned around and put his hands on his hips, gazing at the large, cream-colored building with light blue neon signs saying Starcourt. He was genuinely surprised by the fact that a shopping mall, a mainstream one that is, was opened here in Hawkins.

Good. This shitty little town could benefit from some goddamn civilization.

Billy couldn't even believe this. Just last year, there he was in South Cali, enjoying life as much as he possibly can, with the best beaches in the world.

And now? Living in a small, rural town in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Thanks to…

He huffed as he went to enter Starcourt in order to buy the necessary supplies for the trip. Walking in past the doorway, Billy felt the AC hit him subtly as he basked in the cool breeze it produced. The heat wave may have passed but it was still fucking hot!

The heat wave is over my ass.

Ideally, he would be working at the pool today, taking a chance to cool off. Except there was a chance he could also run into Mrs. Wheeler (shit he hoped she wasn't here) and that could be an unpleasant and problematic experience. Good thing he called in sick in the morning and said couldn't go to work today or tomorrow.

He approached the small display screen which showed him various shops and fast-food restaurants for him to visit while ignoring the upbeat music they played over their speaker phones. He recounted what he needed to buy; some clothes for Gabriela and the kid, preferably hoddies so they can hide their faces, though in Billy's opinion that's going to draw even more attention. Food for the trip, not something too heavy, just some snacks and drinks, enough to sustain them for one day trip.

Although he thought about buying something else for a kid. Billy thought she needed it because quite frankly the kid looked like she could eat some burger or sandwich at least. And more. I mean, she did look…malnourished, is that the word for someone who looks like they haven't been fed for a while?

'Medicinal supplies for Gabriela' he quickly reminded himself and looked closer at the screen to see if there was a drug store in there. Some painkillers and such will come in handy, as well as fresh bandages for her wound. Ah, there is it!

Satisfied with finding what he needed, he went shopping and with it continued his little theorizing he's been doing since he left the motel. And then concluded.

Those two were fleeing from a goddamn Mexican drug cartel!

It makes sense. Gabriela mentioned she used to work in El Paso as a nurse and from what Billy heard back in California, there was a lot of crime there. She also said the people who were after them were powerful and had connections. Connections which make them unreachable by the law.

And he had a theory for that as well.

Okay, one day, she finds this kid, Laura, who by his estimate was a victim of some kinda sick human trafficking scheme, which disgusted Billy to his core. Hence the reason she looked pale and skinny like that and barely spoke. And also had that killer look on her face. You definitely had to look tough in order to survive and make the wrong people back off. Billy knew that all too well.

Right so Gabriela, that woman who didn't strike him as someone who would just abandon a child like that, probably gets some deep motherly instincts within her awakened and takes Laura in order to protect her. After all, all mothers love deeply, they would never…abandon…

Billy stopped as he reached out and held his necklace, the one his mother gave to him before she…left him. An image of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus securely in her arms and close to her chest. That day, when she left…Billy wanted to throw it, to scream he didn't care. And yet…he kept it. Neil never said anything about it. He just ignored it.

A memory came to him, so vivid in its potency it made his head hurt and heart clench. That day…at the beach…

"Wooo, yeah, you did it!" his mother yelled happily, waving her arm, beckoning him to come to her.

"Did you see that?!" he exclaimed, running to his mother, carrying his surfing board, and grinning like a kid.

He was just a kid. Enjoying childhood as he should.

"Yeah I saw!" she greeted him fondly, gently grabbing his head and kissing his forehead affectionally.

"That's at least seven feet!" Billy bragged, proud of the accomplishment he achieved. So proud, so excited, he jumped everywhere, causing his mother to catch him by the shoulder.

"I don't know what it was, but it almost gave me a heart attack." She laughed, steadying him.

"Ten more minutes?" Billy pleaded.

She stopped, her smile faltering a bit, and looked up in the distance. "Yeah, okay, ten more minutes." She relented.

"Okay!" Billy happily agreed.

"But any longer than that, Dad's gonna be mad, okay?" she warned him.

"Okay!"

"Billy?" she called him out.

Billy turned around.

"Watch out for rip currents!" she cautioned.

"I know."

As he stood there, letting the crowd pass by him ignoring him, Billy closed his eyes, clenched the necklace in his fist, and took a deep breath, willing the flashback of the happier times (Neil always soured them) to go away. When it faded and he opened his eyes again, he relaxed his arm, letting the necklace fall back on his collarbone as he resumed his pace, and forced his mind to continue his pondering.

He didn't need this shit now.

Anyways!

Gabriela takes care of Laura for a while, until one day, Gabriela had enough (because it's too dangerous) and ran out of dodge with Laura to find a better life up north for the two of them, hence the ton of money and Canada. He could agree on that part. From what he heard; Canada was a big, beautiful and safe country. Still no match for the good ol' USA.

'…Hrm, yeah right.' he thought sarcastically.

But the "bad men", ooh they don't like that at all and start to pursue them across the country. They think they're safe here, and a clueless family takes them in for the night. Then those guys…kill the family, which still disturbed Billy to his core, and had to remind himself to keep an ear out for who exactly got killed, because when he went home for a quick shower and change of clothes, he didn't quite watch the news or listened to the radio.

He just sat on his bed for a while, processing the insanity of everything that transpired, and mentally prepped himself for the day. And took some emergency cash for shopping.

Suddenly, it came to him that he needs to also keep an eye out for any possible bad men, shit.

He was also deeply glad that Susan and Neil were gone for a two-week vacation…somewhere. Billy didn't give a damn where, as long they were gone he was happy. He was stuck with Max, but hey what could he do? They avoided each other anyways.

Billy sighed.

He wondered, as he walked through Starcourt and the crowd of customers, what could have been. If he wasn't such a douchebag (he was self-aware) and things between him and Max were different. If Da…if Neil acted like an actual caring father rather than the bastard of a man Billy saw every day for the past…shit eight years?!

"Times flies by too quickly." He whispered to himself, causing a pair of kids he was passing by hanging out by the fountain, two boys and two girls, to stare at him, probably some middle schoolers by the looks of it. He knew it was in mocking bemusement. The skinny little shits even had the nerve to giggle!

Billy couldn't let that happen. He has a reputation to upkeep after all. He suddenly whipped his head in their direction and glared. A deep sense of satisfaction coursed through him as he saw their stupid little faces go from smug to scared in a second.

"The hell you looking at, huh?" Billy glowered at them, clenching his fists.

"Um, n-n-othing! W-we were jus-" One little shit with glasses tried to explain stuttering.

Billy wasn't having it.

"Go on! Scram!" he clapped suddenly, making them know he means it.

The little turds scattered, scrambling to get away from him. He watched as they disappeared into a crowd.

Good. That's gonna teach them to laugh at him!

Little turds.

Billy then wondered if Laura would feel that way. She probably would, even though he just met her last night. He could picture it perfectly if she came with him. He'd bet not only Laura would growl at them but would also launch herself at them in an angry frenzy.

That shit would be fun to watch!

He chuckled. "Okay Hargrove don't let your imagination go wild," he holds up his hands and continues to examine the shops.

Billy searched and searched. Sam Goody (he heard Metallica is releasing a new album), The Eyewear House (he didn't need glasses), SHAPES Activewear Outlet (not gonna think about it)…

"Come on, there has to be at least a…" he muttered. "Ah, there it is!"

The Gap was nearby. Billy wondered if the kid liked horses because there was a shirt on display with a unicorn and rainbow on it.

He also wondered what's going on at the Community pool.

'Eh, Heather and the others will do just fine today without me.'

As Billy went to enter the Gap, he failed to notice a bunch of TV screens on a display at a nearby retail shop change channels simultaneously, making a local crowd of customers stop to take a look.

"I am Cecilia Walters, reporting live for Channel 9 News here in Hawkins…"


Billy Hargrove was also unfortunately unaware of a group of rough-looking men in civilian clothing moving around the parking lot, discreetly examining the tires of each individual vehicle, checking for patterns while holding small pictures with tire tracks on the road.

One such man approached Billy's Camaro, bent down, and compared the tire and the picture.

His eyes widened.

The man stood up, covertly signaled the others to join him and found a private place away from the people, pulled a small walkie-talkie, and said: "I got a positive ID on the tire tracks. I repeat I got a positive ID on the tracks. Over."


Heather felt like crap the entire morning.

No, scratch that, she felt like she's going to drop dead at any moment.

She was so, so tired and felt soreness and fatigue burning all over her body and she sweated like a fat pig. And she didn't know why she felt that way.

Did she fall off her bike on her way back home and got hurt? Did she even have a bike anymore? Her memory was so fuzzy that she didn't have the energy to remember anything.

build

The only thing she remembers is…she got home? Late at night? Later than usual?

Daddy and Mommy weren't happy. They got angry. Heather didn't care. Daddy and Mommy then got confused and concerned. They were sad. For her. Heather still didn't care.

build

She left without saying goodbye today. And even if she wanted to, she felt no energy nor the will to do…anything really, wearing just a plain red t-shirt, jean shorts, and flip flops. Heather didn't put on make-up, didn't put on her golden earrings, didn't even tie her curly, chestnut hair in a loose bun as she usually does, letting its disheveled form cascade and wave around freely.

Heather did not have the will to do anything. And yet for some reason, she walked to her job as a lifeguard automatically, like a robot.

And the heat. The sun. It felt…painful. Unbearable.

So, whenever she could, Heather walked in shade beneath the trees or in the shadows that were provided by buildings she passed. She didn't care. Heather didn't care if she walked all over someone's property. Despite the warnings or the shoutings to get the hell off their lawn.

She didn't care.

At all.

build

She was confused. Was she supposed to build something? Heather wasn't the one to get her hands dirty. Did she make plans with someone about that?

Heather walked inside the Hawkins Community Pool building, entered the lockers, and got ready for work. She didn't want to go there. And somehow she still did. As if she barely had control over her body. As if it had a mind of its own.

Heather got dressed up in her red lifeguard one-piece swimsuit. She ignored Katie's friendly hello-

"Hi Heather! H-Heather? Hello?"

-ignored Adams flirting-

"Morning Heather, how's it going? Um, Heather?"

-ignored Zoe who… actually didn't say anything at all, she just stared at her in bewilderment and concern.

As she prepared to go outside…hesitantly, she was passed by Freddy, whose athletic, strong build she usually admired and on occasion gazed at it, but whom she also ignored. Heather also ignored his greetings and asked her if she started going to the gym, commenting on her….arms?

She just went outside.

No, wait that's not right, she wanted to greet them back. Why she didn't-

build

Heather's senses were hit by a barrage of noises and obnoxious hot light as soon as she opened the door to the poolside. She saw in the distance, on the other side of the pool, which was already full of people, a highchair, where she's supposed to go and started going there.

She could hear everyone on her way there, even Curtis, that stupid kid, dunking again, even if she told him a thousandfucking times-

She stopped to the side where the shade from the nearby trees provided some comfort, as she held her head in pain.

The anger she just felt, the rage…it made her sick.

She never, in her entire life, felt like that. Ever.

Why?

"Hey honey," Heather turned around and saw a middle-aged woman with long, blonde curly hair in a purple-blue swimsuit slowly approaching her, "are you alright? It's Heather, is it?" she asked her in concern, reminding her of her mother. She also noticed several other people nearby watching her with bewilderment or annoyance.

She felt embarrassed.

Heather didn't know what happened next. She wanted to answer that no, she was not alright, but all that came out was: "Yes is it. And yeah. I'm fine. It's just the heat, you know. No need to worry about me, ma'am."

Fear clenched her heart.

Someone, something, answered using her voice, with a toothy smile. Heather felt it…losing control…over her own body.

'No I'm not!' She thought rebelliously. 'That's not me. How dare you! Who d-'

Silence.

That voice…that growl…

Heather meekly stopped her resistance. That was not her. That was not their voice to use. Heather couldn't breathe. It would make sense if others could see it, but somehow…they didn't react.

Why didn't they? She was so, so afraid…

"Are you sure?" the blonde woman persisted. "You did not seem well just a few seconds ago? I can get you some water if you want." She offered kindly.

Heather recognized her as Karen Wheeler, mom to Nancy Wheeler, her classmate from high school.

A possible target.

Again, that growl.

An image of her knocking Karen Wheeler out exploded in her mind.

'No! I don't want to do that!'

"I'm okay ma'am, thank you for asking." Not Heather responded.

'I'm not!'

"All right, if you say so." Karen Wheeler said reluctantly. "Oh, by the way, I want to ask you. Did you, by any chance, know where, um Billy, Billy Hargrove is?" she hesitantly asked.

What did she ask that? "No idea. Why do you ask?" Not Heather answered back.

"Oh, um, not particular reason at all. Just asking, you know?" this Karen looked around, awkward and uncomfortable for some reason.

Heather felt terror grip her soul. These were someone else's thoughts. She was hearing someone else's thoughts!

"Oh. Well, do you mind? I have to get to work." The thing that used her body says. "Lots of swimmers in here today. Got to keep them safe." Not Heather replied cheerfully.

"Oh, oh course, don't mind me." Karen nodded and with one last worried sideways glance returned to her spot by the pool.

'Wait! Don't leave me! I need-' she pleaded, but once again stopped by that voice.

'Hmm, actually not yet. Too many witnesses.' It mused.

Heather's body started to move on its own. And Heather felt like a passenger in her own car.

Suddenly Heather found herself in a…she didn't know what it was or where it is. It was pitch black everywhere, even though there was somehow still some light so she could see herself. And for some reason, there was water that reached just past her toes, her reflection looking back at her.

Heather started to frantically run around.

'Let me out! Let me out!' she screamed.

Heather was so, so scared.

'Oh, don't worry Heather dear. It is alright. Soon we shall start.' The voice cooed, echoing everywhere.

Heather stopped running.

'Start…start what?' she asked, despite her fear, looking around frantically for the source.

'To build. To grow.' It answered ominously.

Heather felt fear and terror grip her heart tighter and tighter. She regretted asking it.

As…she watched herself climb up the highchair and nestled closer inside for the shade the sunblock provided, it continued.

'And then when it's over…we attack.'

'…Attack?'

For some reason, she sensed the thing…smile.

'We attack everyone.'

Heather Holloway then saw visions. Horrible visions. And then Heather Holloway screamed in terror.

But no one heard her.

People continued to swim and play around without a single care in the world.


Jim didn't pay much attention at first.

Oh, he knew by his instincts and experience, honed by years of police work, and plus being in the middle of a government conspiracy plot slash supernatural mystery twice in a row, that he should pay attention to what was Larry Kline saying. But all he was getting were misleading excuses and empty words while he absentmindedly fumbled with his police hat in an attempt to control his nerves and temper.

Besides, Jim was brainstorming several facts which he knew. And theories as well. Transigen's involvement and the pursuit of someone special as Eleven were all but already confirmed. All that remained were several questions.

What was Transigen doing here in Hawkins exactly? Who was being hunted and what could they do? How did they get here and what was the connection? And how many people did they have in Hawkins? Did Transigen know about Eleven? Are they connected with the Lab? Or had connections?

This concerned him greatly. Plus, the fact Donald Pierce is here in Hawkins is…disturbing to say at least.

That damn business card of his! Jim felt he had a poisonous pill in his pocket.

As soon as possible, Jim had to warn the others about them. He could barely contain his agitation. Hell, he nearly shot that sonova bitch right there in the waiting hall. When he mentioned New York the bastard…!

Jim was also getting a headache. It was small but it was growing and growing and growing. Hell, it's been growing since last night. Christ, he needed aspirin.

"Look, that's just good old-fashioned American Capitalism Jim, it's not my fault they lost their jobs," Larry said, lighting up his suspiciously not Cuban cigar, as he claimed.

'But it is your fault for raising property taxes.' Jim thought scornfully, thinking about furious local farmers, afraid to lose their homes.

"Well Larry, they're also exercising their good old-fashioned American right to protest." Jim shot back, absentmindedly glancing at his right shoulder, The Stripes and Star flag etched on his uniform.

Larry fake sighed. "Jim, as you could see, my fan club outside-"

"Kline's a Swine! Kline's a Swine! Kline's a Swine!" the furious chanting echoed outside. They switched off from "Out with Transigen" to that lovely rhyming. That and some of them were already getting physical the moment Jim arrived at City Hall.

"Yeah. Quite the fan club you got there Larry." Jim deadpanned.

Jim sat there and felt like he was talking with Larry for hours, trying to reason with him. Although Jim didn't actually think he could actually reason with him at all. Unfortunately, once Larry sets his mind on something, there's no dissuading him. Jim knew that from experience.

Well, there's always blackmail (he had plenty of material) or even brute force if necessary. But that's when things really go to hell. And Jim was afraid of how it will go down. And when.

Larry carried on, ignorant of the internal dread Jim felt. "And I agree for the right to protest thing. However-"

"You know there's also the fact of what happened last night." Jim interrupted him before he could continue as he leaned forward. "A family of three. Dead. In a fire." He stressed out.

Rage flared inside him. It's been like ever since his encounter with Pierce. Although he tempered it from now. If he gets angry, he's going to start making mistakes and risks. And with everything that could be potentially on the line (El, Joyce…), Jim wasn't taking it.

That's stupid and he's not stupid.

Larry nodded. "Yes, a tragedy." He actually looked down and seemed…sad about it. "But still a tragedy. People will mourn and then they'll move on." He tried to reason.

Of course, he'll ignore it.

Excuses, excuses…

Jim tried to argue back. "I don't think so, Larry. We had peace here before-"

"Oh, it's that what you think it was?" he snapped his head up and glared at Jim. "Because I believe several people died in a chemical leak caused by that damn lab!" Larry exclaimed. "Christ, that whole thing was a nightmare." He muttered, rubbing his temples.

A nightmare for Jim and several other people for different reasons. An image of a demodog attacking and mauling Bob Newby jumped into his mind.

"Yeah, which was immediately shut down." Jim pointed out, trying to block it from his head. "Then all of a sudden Transigen," Jim didn't fail to notice a nervous twitch on Kline's face, "decides to build a shopping mall here and starts to buy properties around Hawkins. Don't you think that's a bit suspicious Larry?"

"Look, being a detective and all that, that's your deal Jim. Mine's to make sure this town grows and prospers. And Transigen has been quite generous." Larry tried to wave it off.

'Yeah, generous to your wallet. For how much did they buy Larry? What did they offer you?'

This was also a moment he decided to ask a question he's been preparing since his encounter with Pierce.

"Generous you say, Larry? Well, I'll bet because I can see you're apparently quite chummy with their supposed head of security." Jim stated, gauging for a reaction.

Another flicker of emotion passed by quickly on Larry's face, which he tried to cover up by taking a smoke.

Fear.

Jim knew that something was wrong the moment he entered Kline's office and saw him desperately fixing his disheveled hair and of course, being disturbed, instead of the confident and smug aura he projected whenever he talked to him in the past. Or caught him doing something illegal.

Yeah, Donald Pierce had a talent for that, for being a thug…no scratch that, thug is simply too tame for a man like him. More of an ominous cloud that hails the storm.

Great, now he was being overdramatic as that kid's board game.

Sadly, he wasn't wrong.

"We-ell, you k-know Jim," Larry stuttered briefly, but recovered quickly, faster you can say cheese asshole, "a lot of money was invested in Starcourt, and of course, they're gonna send someone to make sure everything goes smoothly and secure their future projects and all that," Larry explained, averting eye contact with him.

And wasn't that a real question for all of this? What is supposed to go smoothly? In what did they invest?

'What the hell are these guys doing in my town?'

Then Jim remembered there was a power outage just two nights ago. Were they connected?

Could it be connected with the Upside Down? Jim didn't like where all of this could potentially mean.

"Like this protest," Jim straightened up and looked at Kline, "from which I am aware doesn't actually have a permit secured from your office."

Shit.

Shit!

Jim knew he forgot something! But the heart-to-heart talk, and fire, and cover-up…how could he forget…

Fuck.

"Not that I am aware of myself," Jim begrudgingly admitted.

"Well, then I do believe it is within my right to…get rid of them." Larry watched him, with no good-natured humor, no pleasantries, just coldness.

Odd, he would usually plaster that smug-friendly smirk, which never failed to raise his blood pressure when he did something like this, pulling a figurative ace from his sleeve.

Jim sighed. "Larry," he started carefully, "I'm not a politics guy, but I think if you force those people out of here without provocation, I don't think that's a good look for your re-election campaign." He cautioned. "And with what happened yesterday…"

Larry didn't say anything for a while. Then he put his cigar down in the ashtray, got up, and went to stand in front of a window, looking down at the protesters. "Chief Hopper, I want two things from you." He held up his right hand and closed it, leaving only two fingers in a figurative peace sign. "One, remove these people off my property. Two, stay out of Transigens business."

Jim's nostrils flared. He could definitely feel a vein on his forehead throb.

"Larry."

"Besides, the 4th of July festival is in four days. The people's minds will be put to ease once they see the biggest bash this town ever had."

Jim gritted his teeth.

"Larry…"

"Ooh," he suddenly exclaimed, pulling back "ouch, yeah I think you want to do that right now because I'm pretty sure I saw one of your officers get punched in the face."

"Shit!" Jim swore, getting up and putting his hat on.

It started.

"Remember what I said Jim!" Larry called out.

"Yeah, yeah." Jim muttered, ignoring Candice's comment, "Meetings over already?" and approached the entrance of City Hall, as the volume of an all-out brawl grew louder and louder while the thoughts of Transigen, Donald Pierce, the Munsons, and the mysterious figures that were hunted plagued his mind.

He just hoped everyone was staying put and keeping a low profile.


Joyce drives slowly, checking the address number on each individual house on the empty Dearborn Street as she searched for Scott Clarke, the science teacher who taught the kids at Hawkins Middle School, so she could ask him for help. Because it was his knowledge, unknown to him, that greatly helped them in the past.

When she returned from the library with a ton of books about electromagnetic fields, Joyce felt her arms ready to snap from sheer pressure. She often wondered, back when she was in high school, how in the hell did those nerd-…*ahem*, sciency types managed to do that.

For what felt like hours she combed through the pages, trying to make the sense of it all while "Too Late for Tears" inappropriately played in the background. Now she envied those science types. You had to have some kinda iron will if you're willing to read this for an entire day because Joyce felt her brain ready to explode and turn into sludge.

And all of this just because magnets have been falling when they shouldn't fall off.

When she was slowly preparing to give up, a part in "Static Electromagnetic Devices" caught her attention. Specifically, a part about what happens when an electromagnetic field is artificially created. She read some of it but couldn't force her mind to comprehend it. Hence, driving to see Scott Clarke.

Joyce wondered sometimes if they should include him in all of this. Again, after all, Clarke's advice helped them a few times, even though he wasn't aware of the real danger. And each time, it was vital. Without him, they would have lost a long time ago.

If only Bob was here…

Joyce sighed, trying, at least because of the situation, to ignore a painful shiver that went at the memory of him. And his death. She didn't even know if this is right, after all keeping a low profile was necessary at the moment.

However, she had this hunch. The same hunch that guided her to her boy. That led to saving him twice.

Joyce also kept an eye for those people from the picture Hopper found. Her heart couldn't bear it. That someone like El, another innocent child, is being hunted for being different. For having powers. Who probably escaped from some sick laboratory. Just like Eleven.

If she finds them, Joyce will help them in any way possible. She just hoped they were safe at least.

"Ah, there is it." She exclaimed.

A cream-colored bungalow house greeted her as she turned her car to park it on the driveway. Getting out, she went back to retrieve the number of books in the backseat.

Grunting, she managed to balance them in her arms, "Good God there heavy, you would think those guys could gain some muscles from carrying these," and managed to get to the front door and actually ring the bell, though quickly.

Nothing.

Joyce couldn't ring the bell again, her arms full of books, so she settled with a good old-fashioned hollering.

"Hello?" she called out.

Nothing. Even though she could hear music playing inside.

"Hello?" she called out again, even kicking the door a bit.

Nothing again. Joyce sighed.

"Great. Music's playing so loud he probably can't hear me." She grumbled, the stress of holding such weight grating on her nerves.

When no response occurred, Joyce huffed and decided to give up and go back to her car.

"Oh, what the hell am I thinking, how could falling magnets be connected to a fire…" she trailed off when she heard a sound of a garage door opening up and the music getting louder, making its lyrics clearer.

"My, my, ay, ay, woo!"

"M-m-m-m-m"

"My, my, my, ay, ay, woo!"

Turning around, she watched as the garage door rolled up slowly, revealing Scott Clarke, wearing gym shorts, a polo shirt, and some kinda goggles.

"M-m-m-my bologna"

"M-m-m-my bologna"

Clarke lifted up his goggles and watched her in confusion.

"Mrs. Byers?"

"Hi Mr. Clarke, I've been wondering if-hmph!"

"M-m-m-my bologna"

Joyce took several hasty steps backward when the book's weight threatened to crumble her.

"M-m-m-my bologna"

Scoot Clarke rushed up to help her, taking several books off of her.

"Oh my gosh, Mrs. Byers why are you carrying so many books on," he looked at the covers, "electromagnetic fields?" he frowned while this My bologna continued to blare.

"Well, I actually have a few questions on it, and I was wondering if you could help me," Joyce explained, relieved to have some burden taken off her.

"Oh, sure! Just give me a minute." He replied, rushing into his garage with the books to turn down the music on the radio.

"Was that…what's his name, Weird Allan?"

"It's Weird Al Yankovic actually. Come in." Mr. Clarke chuckled as he beckoned her to come inside the garage.

As Joyce entered, she saw several tables in the middle with green and blue terrains and small figurines on them, small paint tubes and brushes, a workbench on the side, an aquarium, and of course, work tools and such which you could find in any garage.

Joyce often wished they had an actual garage. But she, and was proud to say, Jonathan and Will were humble and were satisfied with what they had.

She shook her head. That's not what she came here for.

Scott Clarke put a few books on his workbench, examining them in curiosity.

"So, Mrs. Byers," he turned around to face, "what can I do for you today?" he asked her, smiling with open arms.

"Well, as I said, I have a few questions for you. About this whole electromagnetic thing." She explained, putting her own set of books on the workbench.

"Go ahead, I'm always happy to discuss science," he replied cheerfully.

Joyce was confused. "Oh, um okay, you are certainly in a good mood today." She stated.

Why…?

"Well, why I wouldn't be? It's a beautiful summer day, I had quite enjoyable sleep, I woke up at ten, and I have some free time for myself." He explained, looking perplexed.

Joyce's eyes widened. "You…you mean, you haven't heard?"

Scott frowned. "Heard what? I haven't been keeping up with the news today. Did something happen?"

Joyce then connected the dots. Nathan must have been his student back in middle school…

Oh, oh, dear.

"Um, Scott, you might want to sit down."


Jonathan had just pulled up in the driveway of Driscoll farm. Looking around, he saw that the place was a bit let down. A one-story house in front of them and a small barn on the side looked like they needed some work and re-painting. He wondered if the old lady had any grandkids or kids in general. Even if she does have, she probably lives all by herself.

Jonathan just couldn't imagine living like that, all alone with no one to talk to, despite the fact he himself was a mostly withdrawn individual and he didn't like most people.

When Will disappeared, he felt painfully isolated, with Mom acting crazy, talking to light bulbs, and his little brother missing and being found "dead" in a quarry. He was the one who had to arrange a funeral for him because Mom was a mess and Lonnie was of course of no help. The fact there were also some people who thought that Jonathan was the one responsible for his death added to the stress and the feeling of loneliness.

Jonathan felt like he was losing his mind, just like his mother.

Then Nancy Wheeler came along, looking for clues about missing Barbara Holland.

And then he found out Mom wasn't actually crazy and somehow managed to contact his little brother who wasn't actually "dead" and was in reality taken by a monster from another world to that same world and the body they buried was a fake. On occasion, Jonathan wished he could travel back in time and punch those bastards in their stupid, cruel, uncaring faces. The things they have to go through because of them were unbelievable.

Jonathan of course never ever blamed Eleven for opening the Gate. After all, she too was a victim, just as much as Will, who was forced to do things she didn't want to do by those apathetic assholes, which led to that monster preying upon their world and kidnapping his little brother. As of matter of fact, he made sure to let her know that as soon as she recovered back in November.

This of course led to Jonathan wondering if Eleven herself prior to the fire had any siblings. Yes, he knew like everyone else in their circle about that sister in Chicago, but nothing beyond that. She was very tight-lipped about that.

Jonathan always wondered. And now there's probably more than one.

Turning off the engine and leaving the car, Jonathan felt hot air hit him in the face. He was glad he had the AC fixed in his Ford Galaxy before summer began. He was glad the good ol' girl was actually still kicking. Although he had to admit that soon it will be time to buy a new one.

As he went to the back seat to pick up his Pentax camera and bag with the necessary kit, he saw Nancy's discomfort as well.

"I can't believe it's still this hot! They'd said the heat wave should pass." Nancy complained, fanning herself with her journal book while staring at the house and its surroundings.

"It's the end of June Nancy, and summer has just started." He pointed out, putting the strap of the camera on his neck and the kit around his shoulders.

"I know, still I wished it wasn't this hot." She huffed.

They started to slowly walk to the one-story house.

"Hmm, maybe we should go on a vacation," Jonathan suggested, smirking.

"Oh really, have anything particular in mind?" Nancy herself smiled.

"Nowhere special, as long it has the blue ocean in front of us, I'm okay," Jonathan admitted.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Hmm, sounds tempting. But later, now we have…this." She reminded him.

The grim mood returned. "Yeah." He agreed.

It came back briefly when they were driving to Mrs. Driscoll and Nancy called over the walkie-talkie to check with Will and the rest. Now the rest of Hawkins was finding out what happened last night.

Nancy knocked on the front door politely a few times while smoothing the skirts of her white, black striped polka dress while he fixed his tie. Jonathan could hear jazz music playing in the background.

The door opened, revealing a small, pudgy, sweet-looking old woman with short grey hair and thick glasses on.

"Yes?" she greeted them, confused.

"Mrs. Driscoll?" Nancy asked.

"Yes, that's me." Doris Driscoll nodded.

"Hi, um, I'm Nancy. Nancy Wheeler and this is Jonathan Byers." Jonathan waved. "We spoke briefly on the phone last night."

"We're from the Hawkins Post," Jonathan explained.

"Oh! Oh, yes! Oh, my goodness." The elderly woman lightly clapped her forehead. "I'm glad you're here. Say… you two look too young to be reporters."

Both of them chuckled. Interns, reporters, what difference does it make? "We get that a lot," Jonathan replied.

"I'm sure you do. Oh, silly me, do come inside." Mrs. Driscoll politely said.

She opened the door wider and welcomed them inside.

They were greeted by a very…interesting interior. The living room was decorated with pictures and various knick-knacks. The place itself looked like it was stuck in the 40s with the jazz music playing in the background from the radio getting louder. And for some reason Jonathan recognized it.

"And, what a difference a day made"

"There's a rainbow before me"

"Are you alright dear?" he heard Mrs. Driscoll ask Nancy.

"Oh, I'm all right ma'am, it's just the heat that's all."

"Honey, this is nothing. You should have felt the heat wave of '36."

"Skies above can be stormy"

"Since that moment of bliss, that thrilling kiss"

"Excuse me?" he asked politely the elderly woman. Nancy and Mrs. Driscoll looked at him. "What is that song that's playing right?"

"Oh, that's What Difference a Day Makes by Dinah Washington. Why do you ask son?"

"It's heaven when you find romance on your menu"

"What a difference a day made"

A painful memory came to Jonathan. It was a song that played at the wedding of his parents. The reason he knew that was because early on, back when Jonathan was a small child and Will a baby, they always danced to that song on their anniversary. And the reason it was painful was that it reminded him of that time period when they were a happy family. Before everything went to shit.

"Um, no reason in particular, it just sounded familiar." Jonathan clenched the strap of his bag.

Nancy, bless her, saw his discomfort and distracted Mrs. Driscoll. "Say ma'am, why don't you show us the way?"

"And the difference is you"

The old lady looked between the two and shrugged, "Very well."

As they headed further inside and the music's lyrics faded a bit, Nancy started to ask questions. "Um ma'am do you live here by yourself?"

Mrs. Driscoll nodded. "Yes. My daughter, Maria lives in Indianapolis with her family, and Jack, my husband, he passed away, what is it now, ten years ago." She sadly shook her head.

Jonathan and Nancy glanced at each other and looked back at the old lady.

"Oh, um, I'm so sorry." Nancy apologized.

"Oh don't be." Mrs. Driscoll waved it off. "I kinda like the quiet." They approached a white door before the dining room. "That is at least I did."

She opened the door, making its hinges creak.

"This way." She declared, motioning them to follow her downstairs into the dark.

As Jonathan and Nancy slowly descended into the darkness, they came to the bottom, just in time for Mrs. Driscoll to switch the lights.

"It's right over there." She pointed at the corner of the basement.

Both approached the area and saw on the floor several torn-out bags of… fertilizer? Jonathan picked up his camera while Nancy crouched down and picked up one of the bags examining its bottom. It had several holes that looked like they were gnawed at.

"You see those little teeth marks, don't ya?" Mrs. Driscoll said right at the moment Jonathan snapped the photo, its sudden flashlight illuminated Nancy.

Nancy turned her head and gave Jonathan the look that said, "too early". As he awkwardly put down his camera, Nancy asked, "And…these bags, um…you're sure they were full before?"

"I'm old honey, not senile." Mrs. Driscoll defended. "Bought them over at Blackburn's Supplies just last Tuesday."

As Jonathan and Nancy examined the bags further Mrs. Driscoll continued, "Now you tell me, why would rats want to eat a poor old woman's fertilizer, hm?"

"Are you sure they did?" Jonathan asked, sounding skeptical, something he was feeling ever since he heard about this.

Mrs. Driscoll frowned at him and said nothing.

"Maybe they just…gnawed at the bag? I mean…" Nancy tried to reason herself, standing up, "eating fertilizer seems-"

"Crazy. Believe me, I know honey." Mrs. Driscoll agreed. "But somethings…" she sighed.

"Mrs. Driscoll?" Nancy asked.

"Quite frankly, something's not right with these rats." The old lady admitted, looking quite disturbed.

"What does that mean exactly…not right?" Nancy questioned. Jonathan leaned forward.

She shrugged. "Rabies, my guess. That's when I said to myself, Doris you got to call the paper. Because if those diseased rats are runnin' loose, the people they ought to know. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah I agree but you have to admit that's a bit weird." Nancy still persisted. "And what with happened last night…" she reluctantly added.

Mrs. Driscoll shook her head. "Oh dear, I don't know what's wrong with this town lately. First, that kid goes missing, scaring everyone," Jonathan stiffened, "then there was that gas leak" now Nancy stiffened, "and now this fire. Sweet Jesus. Those poor people. We haven't had this kind of horror show since the 50s." she stated in a sad tone.

Jonathan and Nancy looked at each other, confused. The 50s? What does she mean by that?

"What do you mean since the 50s, what happened-" Nancy was about to continue her interview but a sudden sound of something crashing somewhere startled them, making them both jump.

The old feeling of danger and adrenaline filled Jonathan's body. Combination of trauma and alarm.

"What was that?" Jonathan asked, high on alert. Nancy hasn't said anything, just looked around for threats.

"Oh yes, I forgot to mention!" Mrs. Driscoll cheerfully declared. "Come on over here."

Both rushed to follow her and saw on the washing machine a boxed cloth that rattled. Jonathan could hear angry chittering and squealing coming from it.

"I caught one of the little bastards." Mrs. Driscoll proudly proclaimed.


Steve didn't like this.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Okay okay, no need to be a drama queen Steve Harrington, you're currently working in an ice cream shop selling ice cream, not working for the damn CIA. Although he could live without wearing this stupid sailor outfit and stupid hat which was totally ruining his best feature.

He sighed.

Usually, at this hour, the mall is packed with people, and with their collective noises echoing throughout the entire Starcourt building. Rushing everywhere, either to buy something or just to gaze at it because some of them, unfortunately, didn't have enough money for that. They often resembled those rats in mazes that he saw once on TV.

And people were getting the news about the fire. There were many who wore shocked, subdued, and sad faces and even a few who looked absolutely devasted, walking around at a slower pace. Those people probably knew the Munsons. And they probably found out about the same time a piece of radio news reported on it or saw it on TVs displayed at a nearby retail shop. Even Scoops Ahoy, where they had a few customers scattered around (a couple, a family of four, one boy with glasses and one girl with frizzy hair) had gloomy faces, ice creams mostly intact.

Steve tried to look back at those days in high school, (Christ did he graduate just a few weeks ago?) and tried to remember anything about Nathan Munson. He could recall he was in the same class with Nancy and a bit popular with that whole rodeo thing, but never quite popular at the level Steve was. Before the, you know, supernatural monsters and shady government agents, and kids with superpowers stuff. Steve tried to make small talk with him a few times but couldn't find any common ground with him. Steve was a guy with rich parents in a big, fancy house while Nathan grew up modestly on a farm.

Steve felt like shit now, wishing he befriended the guy, but he was in that time period of being a complete jackass, concerned only with his popularity and hanging out with assholes like Tommy and Carol. The fact it took the "mysterious" disappearance of Will Byers to open his stupid eyes made him feel even more like an asshole.

As he observed the interior of Starcourt with mild self-loathing while inappropriate cherry (vomit-inducing) music played over their own small speakers, he failed to notice a familiar customer.

"Excuse me?" a small, sassy voice piped up.

Steve jumped and looked down to see who it is. Then he groaned.

Oh great. Erica Sinclair and her little posse of friends.

"My friends and I would like to take a few samples. You know, to decide." Erica said, smiling politely (she's faking it!) while her friends tried to sell nonchalant attitudes, looking around Scoops Ahoy in boredom.

It was only because they wanted free ice cream. He heard from Lucas what a menace his little sister could be and unfortunately found out how much she could be.

"Didn't you ask for the same thing yesterday? And the day before that?" Steve pointed out. He secretly dreaded this moment.

"Uh yeah, and I would like to try again." Erica blinked at him, trying to act dignified while covering up her smugness. "Peppermint, please."

Steve shook his head and scooped some mint-flavored ice cream with several small red spoons.

Handing it, Steve could feel irritation build up in his system when they all just gobbled it up and threw the spoons away. And then had the audacity to ask for more. "We would like to try again."

'Just a few samples my butt,' he thought scornfully.

He stared at them for a few moments. And then…

"Robin!" Steve hollered.

"What?" she yelled back from the backroom.

"I, um, need your help!" Steve did not have the energy to deal with this.

"…I'm not helping you with Sinclair, forget it!"

Steve sighed and lowered his head while Erica and her gang snickered.

"Okay, you know what, no you can't have any more samples." He stated, straightening up and crossing his arms.

Erica Sinclair had the utter gall to gape her mouth at him and act surprised. So did her friends.

"Eh, excuse me, isn't the customer always right?" she tried to argue, her friends nodding their heads.

"That's when there's something wrong, you all just want free ice cream."

Erica stared at him. Then she rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's go." She waved her friends to follow her.

As Steve started to try and see if there are any newer customers or does Robin need help, he heard Sinclair whisper. "Fart face."

He snapped his head at her. "Hey! Isn't it past your bedtime kid?"

"Isn't it time you die- went to a retirement home, old man?" Sinclair shoots back, not looking at him. Steve gaped at her.

The few patrons that are in Scoops Ahoy hollered when they heard that. He even heard Robin laugh out loud.

'Damn.' Steve thought as he watched Sinclair and her posse leave. 'Old man, how dare she!'

"Damn mall rat." He mumbled.

"Okay Popeye, you have to admit that was funny!" he heard Robin chuckle from the opened window still. "And also, I have to remind you that you do know it's also against the company policies to deny free samples, don't you Harrington?"

Steve turned around and saw her leaning and smiling at him, her blue eyes shining in amusement.

Good. It turns out Erica Sinclair was a God-given sign. Matter of fact, the customers, who up to this point looked gloomy, were laughing and started to relax, eating frozen treats.

Everyone should ease up a bit, despite the tragic circumstances. If it takes some insults and jokes on him, he's willing to suffer for it. Plus, he gets to see Robin Buckley laugh. And he had to admit, she does have a pretty smile…

"You know what? Screw company policies." Steve boasted.

Robin didn't look impressed, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Wow, didn't you say that like, yesterday, when those girls came by and you just…" she stuck out her tongue, blew a raspberry, and pointed her thumb down.

"Hey, just because it didn't work now, doesn't mean defeat. I just gotta keep throwing my shots." Steve stated confidently.

Robin snorted a laugh. "Yeah, because that has been working out for ya quite splendidly."

"Haha, mock all you want it will work," he replied.

"Whatever you say," Robin shakes her head and gets back to her work in the backroom.

He had to remind himself that it will be time for lunch break…and time to answer some of her questions. He had reservations about answering them. Steve didn't want to involve her in all of this.

Yeah, sometimes her teasing and light insults could rile him up a bit. But he has been having difficulties shooting back.

Mostly because of a small stupid crush he's been developing for her, leaving him tongue-tied.

Steve shook his head, trying to get his head straight, and turned around…just in time to see Billy goddamn Hargrove staring at Scoops Ahoy with a few shopping bags in his hands. And then his eyes widened when he saw Steve.

Crap.

They remained frozen like that, the both of them, staring at each other. Steve could feel the tension rising up in the air as he started to feel echoes of pain on his face. Back when blond mullet asshole nearly beat him to death in November.

He could clearly see on his face him remembering exactly the same thing, frowning and clutching those shopping bags. Then Hargrove saw what Steve was wearing, making his lips, punctuated by that ugly wispy moustache, form in a thin line.

"Ah shit." Steve cursed under his breath, feeling a confrontation build up.

Billy Hargrove entered Scoops Ahoy, slowly approaching him, looking like he struggled to reign in his laughter.

'Alright Harrington, keep it together. Don't let this asshole rile you up.'

Billy Hargrove has taken it to stand right in front of the counter, right in front of him, giving him that ugly smug smile that made keeping it together that much tougher.

They stared at each other, waiting for the other to say something while cheerful naval music played in the background. It didn't help the fact that Steve wore his…work uniform and looked ridiculous and stupid while Hargrove with his white sleeveless shirt, blue jeans, and black buckle boots looked relatively normal.

It would be funny if Steve didn't know the guy in front of him was a mega douchebag with issues.

They stared at each other. Until regrettably, Steve took a deep breath.

"Can I help you?" he greeted him reluctantly.

He refused to call him sir.

No way in hell.

Hargrove chuckled and put his bags down. "Oooh man, can you help me? I gotta say, Harrington, you look like you took the right role for the job. I mean," he gestured at his uniform, "what happened? The Navy didn't want no losers?"

"I'm at least dressed appropriately for a job-"

"Appropriately!" Hargrove mock repeats.

Steve didn't let that deter him, "-a job which involves actual work, unlike yours."

He heard from gossip all around the mall that Hargrove got a job as a lifeguard at the Hawkins Community Pool. Which meant he did nothing all day, just sitting around watching people. And being a natural jackass of course.

Hargrove didn't seem offended by that.

"Say what you want Harrington, I actually scored a great job. Just sitting around, making sure some losers don't drown, teaching some hot chicks how to swim. And I get to cool off at the pool. And I make 5 bucks an hour."

"Yeah, great for- wait a minute, you make 5 bucks per hour?!"

Son of a bitch he makes 3! How's this possible?!

Hargrove clearly didn't expect that reaction, leaving him stunned for a second. Then that son of a bitch flashed him a smile that screamed I'm your superior.

"That's right. What, you get paid less?"

Steve didn't dignify that with a response, which made Hargrove laugh. "Oh my god! You do!" he clapped his hands, nearly hollering.

"Glad you find it amusing, asshole."

Hargrove stopped laughing. Although he still chuckled.

"Amusing it is. Donald Duck gets paid less than me!"

From Nancy, Steve would tolerate that.

Not from him.

Steve gave a humorless, "Haha, funny Hargrove. Where did you get that from? Watching Looney Tunes?" he crossed his arms.

"It's actually Disney, moron." Hargrove crossed his arms as well, smirking. Steve could see a tattoo of a skull smoking on his right shoulder.

'A bit too much pal.'

"Oh, you know the difference? Then again, I guess little boys like yourself who watch cartoons all day know it." Steve shoots back.

Hargrove's ugly smile didn't falter, but Steve could a vein pop at his forehead. He smirked. He could also hear Robin calling him, but he didn't respond.

"You're calling me a little boy, amigo? You?" then the bastard gave him a toothy smile and leaned forward, "…Popeye?" he mocked.

Okay, only Robin Buckley gets to call him that!

And the kids.

And some customers.

The point is Steve tried his best! "Okay, listen here you sonova-!" he pointed his finger at him.

"Hey dingus, what's the holdup, I've been calling you!" Robin interrupted, exiting the backroom to see what was going on.

Both Steve and Hargrove turned their head at her when she suddenly stops and saw what was happening. Steve also saw the customers turning their heads to watch the confrontation.

"What's going on?" she asked, confused.

Steve shifted a bit so he stood between Robin and the mullet jerk, "Nothing Robin, this young man-" he tried to say.

"Young man?" Hargrove smirked.

"…this little boy was about to order." Steve gave him a smug look.

He had a deep satisfaction of seeing Hargrove lose that smug smirk and started to breathe harshly. "You got some nerve, Harrington."

"At least I have some unlike you."

Hargrove pointed a finger at him in a threatening manner. "You listen-"

Robin cut him off.

"Hey!" she snapped, making both of them look at her. "I don't know what this whole macho thing you two have going on, but you're gonna keep it down 'cause you're upsetting the customers. And that's the last thing they need after…last night…" she trailed off.

A grim atmosphere descended upon them. What went from a near showdown/fist fight now came a somber mood. Steve was surprised to see Hargrove look…down about it.

"What happened?" he asked, in a strangely subdued voice.

Steve couldn't believe this. "What do you mean what happened? There was a fire last night-"

Hargrove cut him off. "Yeah, yeah…I know about that Harrington. But I didn't hear who died in it."

Something in the way he said those words made Steve suspicious. Like he knew something.

"It was just on the news-" Steve tried to say.

"The Munsons. Nathan Munson and his parents." Robin said before another escalation could occur.

Hargrove frowned. "Munson. Is he related to Eddie Munson?"

"No. Different guy. He lives at the trailer-" Steve wanted to add.

"I know where he lives Harrington." Hargrove snapped at him.

Steve narrowed down his eyes. "What is it to you?"

"What King Steve, I can't show concern and compassion for my fellow citizens?" the blond mullet sneered at him.

Steve scoffed, making Hargrove glare at him.

"Concern and compassion?" Steve did not believe in that part.

"Yeah. Somethin' you wanna say, Harrington?" Hargrove challenged him, unfolding his arms and leaning forward, griping the counter. Steve saw a necklace hanging from Hargrove's neck. He ignored it.

"Oh please. Like you care." Steve uncrossed his arms and put them on his hips, unimpressed by the display.

Robin watched the two in tense silence. Steve knew her eyes were glancing at a small button below the counter for security.

"The hells that's supposed to mean?" Hargrove demanded.

"It's simple." He says.

Hargrove waited as did Robin.

"It means you are not the guy who fights for others, you only fight for yourself," Steve said simply.

That actually shocked Hargrove. Steve was surprised to see that as Hargrove pulled back and stared at Steve with his widened blue eyes for a few seconds. And then he visibly gritted his teeth in anger.

"The hell you know Harrington? Nothing!" he growled, clenching his fists.

Steve saw the real him in November. "I know enough."

Steve clenched his own fists and prepared himself for round two.

Hargrove snarled. "Oh you motherfucker-"

Robin again cut him off. "Hey! You say one more thing and you got 5 seconds to get your mullet-face out of here before I call security on your ass." Hargrove stopped, glaring at her. "Are you deaf? Leave or else." Robin threatened him.

The tension remained thick in the air, the customers themselves glancing at the exit. Until Hargrove picked up his shopping bags and left, muttering swears under his breath.

When he left his sight, Steve relaxed, as did the customers. "Jesus." He muttered, pinching his nose.

"Well, that could have gone a lot worse," Robin lightly said, as if she was commenting on the weather. But she was right as he saw her relax as well, rubbing her neck.

"Yeah." He agreed.

"What's the deal with that guy anyways? I've heard he's some popular hot shot at school but that's it." She asked him, watching Hargrove mullet form leave their sight.

If only she knew.

"Eh, he's just some asshole who thinks he's hot shit but he's actually a cold diarrhea." He commented lightly.

Robin snapped her head at him in disbelief. Then she snorted. "Oh my god. Umphrrr, hahahahaha, that's actually a good one Steve." She chuckled, smacking him on his shoulder.

She called him Steve. She also touched him.

"Huh, I didn't think of that one actually. Guess the best ones come to you when you're not thinking at all."

"A frequent part on your end."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding dingus." She patted him on the shoulder. "Still, I'm impressed. You actually managed to remain calm. For the most part."

"Eh, again, just some asshole who likes to rile up people. Nothing more." He waved it off. "I actually wished Henderson was here. He's good at comebacks too." He also secretly wished he had the walkie-talkie. Steve was the only one without one.

Robin frowned. "Henderson? Your friend from school?"

"Oh? Oh, no, no, he actually starts high school after summer break." Robin watched him in perplexion. "Oh yeah, he's actually friends with the guys who use the back hallway to sneak in for the movies."

She blinked at him. "Okay, how many children are you friends with?"

"Just six." Steve shrugged.

"…You're one odd man Harrington. Although at least you're nothing like him." She jerked her head in the direction Hargrove left.

"Yeah." He nodded.

Nevertheless, Steve was baffled. He had to wonder…for whom exactly was Billy Hargrove shopping?


Laura fiddled with her ponytail, courtesy of Gabriela who managed to find a yellow rubber band in the bathroom, making sure it was securely placed.

Eventually, she did decide to leave the motel room for the sole purpose of assessing the area around it, sneaking out and making sure that the receptionist didn't see her.

She will not make the same mistake. What happened last night at the farm won't happen again, she swore.

Besides, she couldn't stay forever in that room. At least she'll be doing something productive. Laura didn't mind the heat of the summer day and could even smell a musky, earthly scent in the air. It was going to rain soon. Probably tomorrow.

Every minute or so, she glanced at the motel, specifically at the room with Gabriela in it, making sure she could still see it.

They argued. Not a fight, but a small argument. Gabriela didn't want her to leave the room, but again, Laura couldn't stay in that motel room all day. She wanted to do something, anything.

Eventually, Gabriela caved in, simply because she knew Laura couldn't be deterred from this. That and being exhausted from the wound. It was after all for their safety. Still, she warned her not to be seen, as it would be weird to see a small girl in her pyjamas walking around. Plus, she also told her not to wander off (as if she would do that) and told her if they show up, she is to immediately flee, leaving her behind.

Again, as if Laura would ever do that, abandon her, the woman whom she considered to be her mother in all but blood. Laura would rather die with her than leave her behind to be killed by those bastardos. Gabriela would be upset, but the simple fact remains.

Laura is not leaving Gabriela.

Currently, she just entered the forest area, about a few meters inside, watching the sunlight rays filtered by branches while walking barefoot. She had to leave her sneakers because they were too much blood on them to be washed away and that meant attracting unwanted attention.

Besides, she didn't mind walking like that. Laura rather liked the earthly ground dirt and grass feeling beneath her feet (it meant freedom) while gazing at the great green trees.

They looked so beautiful.

The sight helped Laura ease her mind and guilt (but it was still there). From everything that was happening. And has happened.

There were also a lot of bushes (plenty of space for ambush), small protruding tree-root branches which she categorized, (so she wouldn't trip while running and they would), and again, the trees themselves, so many of them which she could use to scout the area from up high.

That was the reason why she was gazing at them in the first place. Searching for the tallest one from which she could see better. To see more.

A small chittering noise behind her made her jump and turn around sharply, making her ponytail whip around, her small fists raised, ready to unleash her claws-

And then she stopped because what she saw in front of her was a small red…squirrel. The squirrel itself was staring at her with unblinking attention, hearing it breathe quickly and its little heartbeat thundering inside. Clearly, from what she could smell, he was scared of her, sensing correctly that Laura was a predator.

At a cue, her stomach growled.

Laura, still in a fight stance, awkwardly looked down, which gave the squirrel a clear sign to run away as quickly as possible. She rolled her eyes.

"I was not going to eat you. I am not that hungry." She told the retreating animal, watching its fluffy tail as it climbed a tree with a speed that befitted such a creature. And realized as she glanced up…this tree was tall. Probably the tallest in this area.

Laura approached the tree and slowly began to climb, ignoring the biting pain of wood splinters piercing the skin in her palms, fingers, and toes. Grunting, she reached for one branch and pulled herself up so she could stand on it. It was wide enough for her anyways, so she easily balances herself upon it.

Gabriela would have a heart attack if she had seen her like this, but Gabriela wasn't right here at the moment, and what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

She gazed at her surroundings and wondered, while removing several splinters from her hands and feet, if she could live here, in the wilderness. Laura was always eager to learn more, a consequence of being locked up her entire life and deprived of knowledge. If it weren't for the nurses, who secretly taught them how to read, write and spell, and taught them about the world outside, Laura knew their de-ve-lop-ment would be damaged.

As such, at every opportunity she got, Laura tried to learn more about Canada. She knew it was a large country, larger than America, but with far fewer people and much more forest wilderness and nature.

She had the skills to survive like that. Laura already knew how to start a fire, how to hunt (obviously), and could build a decent shelter. Provided of course by her handlers.

She looked up to assess the easiest way to climb up. The trunk was too thin for using her hand claws. But her foot claws…

SNIKT

She saw it in one of those movies about explaining stuff, do-cu-men-taries they were called, about climbing, how they used boots with spikes to embed themselves in rocky places and climb easier and faster.

Right now, she was doing exactly the same thing as they did. Slowly but surely and expertly she moved up and up. Left foot claw in, right foot claw out. Reverse and repeat.

Being here, in the forest, brought back a flashback she had. Or rather a scent from last night.

Last night, while they were running away from Transigen through in the forest, Laura smelled something…evil.

There was no other way to describe it, just evil.

The same rotting scent she sensed the moment they entered Hawkins, which at that moment somehow felt…alive, and moving. And that made her…afraid. The same way she feared Transigen in the past.

Laura stopped her climbing and looked around with caution. She sniffed the air and got the earthly sense of nature. And the foul, putrid air that was obscure.

For now.

She was still on high alert regardless. For Transigen…and for whatever the hell they nearly encountered. Ears and nose attentive.

She resumes her climbing.

Laura was watchful as she climbed higher and higher, pushing past the neighbouring branches and eventually reaching the top, the clear blue sky and sunlight greeting her.

Looking down, she estimated that the tree was somewhere around twenty meters tall. Nevertheless, it gave an excellent view of the entire Hawkins. The motel itself must be on a hill because Laura could see nearly everything. Even more so because her predatory binocular vision allowed her to see even closer.

like it helped you a lot last night

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

Not now.

She opened her eyes and focused again.

Holding at the top, Laura could see many buildings which were sprawled on some parts and concentrated on others. Like those little cubes which they used to play with back at the facility. In very rare moments they have been let to be children.

Just as about when she was going to focus on the Downtown centre, Laura was distracted by a small, moving…something in the distance. That's coming towards her.

Eyes narrowing, she watched as the tiny spot-like thing came closer and closer. And then she nearly gasped.

It was a small butterfly. And it looked gorgeous. Laura's eyes widened as she noticed it had shiny blue wings. She did not dare make a sound for a fear of scaring away this pretty little thing.

Slowly and slowly, the blue-winged butterfly eventually came to her, just a few centimetres from her face.

She watched flutter in front of her, not taking her eyes off it. Suddenly, the butterfly landed right on her nose.

Laura giggled.

A rare moment of joy filled her being. She smiled as the butterfly took off. Watching, she was always amazed how the world, the real world could be so beautiful.

As she turned her gaze back at Hawkins, in the distance she spotted a giant building, with a giant neon sign saying Starcourt.

Starcourt build by Transigen.

"William!"

"It's okay, you're going to be okay."

"Again Twenty Three. Again!

"Remember, they are patents with numbers and a property."

"The only future you have it's the one we say you have."

Laura's smile dropped instantly.

Murderous rage filled her heart. With gritted teeth, she snarled, emitting a low growl.

She saw red.

Laura wanted to go there. To go there, in front of the center, to yell, to scream, so they can come out and see, just see if they can take her on!

So, she can kill! Kill them all!

Monsters!

Murderers!

Her growls got louder and louder until Laura took a quick glance at Liberty Motel. A motel where…

She stopped.

Laura took a big, deep breath.

She needed to calm down.

She needed to control herself.

She needed to keep in mind what was at stake right now.

Taking a look back at Hawkins, Laura knew she couldn't afford to make mistakes. She made them yesterday and for that, good, innocent people paid the price.

With one last glaring glimpse at Hawkins, Laura slowly started to descend to the ground, satisfied with a small part of what she saw.

Just as her feet met with the ground, her stomach growled again. Laura frowned. She didn't eat or drunk anything since last night.

She sighed.

Maybe a vending machine she saw at the bottom of the motel has something. It wouldn't be the first time she stole food from it anyways.

Even though she didn't trust him Laura hoped that Billy Hargrove will return soon. And that whatever they nearly encountered last night near the farm was the last time.


Heather woke up, eyes shooting open and gasping for air.

She felt immense burning pain in her left elbow. She groaned and groggily pulled back her left arm, examining it.

It was raw and red all over and Heather could even see smoke coming from it. Like she's been burned with fire. Heather looked around but failed to find a source.

How?

Noise too drew her attention. She was currently sitting on a highchair, watching a pool full of people?

She felt like shit and her mind was too sluggish.

'Oh yeah', now she remembers, her job as a lifeguard. Sitting on the highchair and watching people. Didn't she came here first thing…in the morning? Heather couldn't remember at all.

Underneath her, she heard a pair of young girls passing by, discussing something about a farm and a fire in forlorn voices.

The fire…the heat.

Heather looked up.

The sun.

It's light…its unbearable heat…it suffocated her. It hurt her. She needed…to take a cold shower.

Yeah. Yeah. Cold water will fix her right up.

Inside the building.

Inside the lockers…the showers are there…so she'll go there.

Without warning, she grunted as she jumped down from the highchair, startling a few people who were passing by.

"Jesus!" they exclaimed jumping away from her, making one of them fall into the pool with a loud splash.

Ignoring them and their complaints and insults, she stumbled forward, bumping at a few people on the way.

The world was shaped in muddled colours.

She took something. Or someone has given her something.

It made her…she couldn't…see properly.

She must go there.

Heather fails to see a couple of guys carrying an icebox. Making her collide with them.

With a loud crash, the contents spilled all over, ice cubes and soda drinks scattering everywhere, attracting attention from everyone.

"Hey! The hells wrong with you?!" one blonde guy with sunglasses yelled at her.

Heather didn't pay attention to them besides a passing glance. Didn't even pay attention to Freddy's worried glance from the bench with her other co-workers.

Heather ignored them all.

Eventually, she did manage to enter the building, go to the lockers, entered one of the shower cubicles, turned it on, and let that cold, cold water run all over her.

Ooh, she felt such wonderful bliss. Bliss and relief as the pain went away. And…she felt confused.

Standing, Heather examined her burned elbow, which she now noticed wasn't that red anymore and resembled a scar. She also noticed…black veiny lines all over her arm. That were moving.

What?

Heather watched them move for a while, perplexed, and scared and why…why was that on her arm?

As the black lines started to converge on her forearm, she decided to slowly touch them.

And she regretted it instantly.

A high pitch screeching sound echoed inside her mind making Heather scream in pain as grabbed her head. She clasped her hands over her ears in order to prevent, at least in some pathetic part on her end to stop the noise.

She saw terrible, terrible images.

Did Heather see…was that a spider?

build

The painful screeching continued to ring inside her skull, making her slide down and curl up in a corner, whimpering pathetically. As she fell down, right in the centre of the cubicle, so that at least some comforting stone-cold water could ease up her pain.

BUILD

"Build what?!" she screamed.

"Heather?"

Heather unclasped her ears and looked up. The pain suddenly stopped.

She recognized that voice. It belonged to Freddy. Big, strong Freddy, whose size and strength could be useful.

Heather frowned. Why would Freddy's strength be useful to her?

'Why?'

Heather watched as Freddy came up to her. What was weird was that Freddy was watching her with an emotionless gaze. She thought he would be rushing toward her, in an attempt to help her. Surely he heard her scream in pain. Surely he came here to help her.

Heather continued to watch Freddy as the world seemed to slow down. He crouched down and locked eyes with her.

"Take me to him." He said, his voice distorted and commanding.

Heather blinked. "What?" she whispered.

"I said are you okay?" now he sounded normal and concerned. "I heard you scream, and I ran as fast as I could. Should I call for help?"

Heather gripped her knees, staring at him.

"Heather?"

Heather didn't say anything. Then she remembered Freddy owned a car.

Useful.

"Heather? Let me-"

Freddy didn't get to continue. Because suddenly, Heather stood up and reached for him, grabbing him by the throat, pulling him in, and closing the shower curtain.

All the while, she held him in place, watching in indifference as he struggled against her, scared and bewildered. She knew he was asking himself in panic "How in the hell is she stronger than me?"

"Don't be afraid Freddy. It will be all over soon." Heather cooed.

Freddy's eyes widened at her tone. It was…inhuman.

Heather couldn't continue like this. Someone is bound to come or pass by and hear the commotion. So, with a well-placed punch in the temple, Heather knocked Freddy out cold. And as she watched his big body crumble down, an image of an old, derelict building came to her.

Brimborn Steelworks

She needed to take him there.

And took him she did.


Jim entered his police Blazer, utterly exhausted.

"Jesus," he mutters, taking off his hat and dragging a hand across his face in fatigue. Then he winced when grazed at his right eye. He was sure there was going to be a giant purple bruise. Henry was the one to hit him and boy does he has a mean right hook.

Just last night at the meeting, the guy came to him, complaining about Kline raising property taxes, which makes the possibility of losing his home and his job much more probable. Jim assured him, man to man, that things are going to get better. William backed him up on that.

And now…

When they started arresting people for physical assault, most fled immediately, leaving their protest signs on the grounds. Though not without the complimentary insults and spitting on the ground in contempt. And few that stayed and actually tried to fight them ended up immediately in their custody. The betrayed looks and glares they were giving him felt like getting mud on his face.

Jim felt like a big disgrace while processing them and filling in the paperwork. And getting the news that the funeral will be tomorrow at noon.

He didn't feel he had the strength to attend it. That and they still haven't heard or found the horses that escaped from the Munson farm.

Jim watched the sky.

The sun was getting low. He could see its rays slowly turning orange, signaling the near end of the day.

Jim looked at his watch. It was nearing the end of the afternoon. That means whatever leftover time he was going to use to check in with the others.

Jim picked up the second walkie-talkie he had, tuned in the frequency and asked, "Hey kids. This is Hopper. Do you copy? Over."

Silence for a few moments.

Every second that passed without an answer, Jim feared.

"Guys. This is Hopper. Do you copy? Over." He asked more loudly.

"Hey Chief. This is Dustin. Over."

He sighed in relief.

"Are you and the rest at the house? Over."

"Yes we are. Over."

Good.

"Doing what? Over."

"Um, you know, just messing around. Over."

Jim didn't buy that.

"Uh-huh. Can you give me El? Over."

"Um, she's currently in the bathroom. Over."

He frowned.

"Doing what? Over."

"Uh, are you really asking that Chief? Over." Jim could sense his bewilderment all the way from the house.

He rolled his eyes. Jim knew there were up to something, but as long as they are at the Byers house it was okay.

For now.

"Never mind, just stay there and I will come in an hour or two or Joyce or Nancy and Jonathan. Over."

"Or Steve. Over." Dustin added, sounding miffed that Jim forgot to mention him.

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah, or Steve. That is all. Over and out." He stated, tossing the walkie-talkie on the passenger seat.

With that done Jim started the car. As he began to drive, he tried to process what should he tell them all. About his service in Vietnam, about his…acquaintanceship with Pierce, and other stuff. Dark stuff. Stuff he was ashamed of and didn't tell the others, especially Eleven and Joyce.

Jim realized with a heavy heart…he has to.

Another fight is coming up. And they need to be prepared. Last time they didn't…

He passed by Enzo's restaurant.

Glancing at the place he knew, if things were ideal, he would be having dinner with Joyce tonight. Jim could imagine it easily. The setup was perfect, even romantic, with a small quartet playing in the background, fancy Italian cuisine, and wine…he and Joyce dressed up, Joyce looking stunning.

It would be perfect.

Jim scoffed. "Now's not the time."

He sounded like a dumb love-struck teenager. Life wasn't ideal, it never was.

Nothing lasts forever.

The pessimistic musing he's been having was interrupted by the sound of the talkie.

"Chief." Jim swiveled his gaze at it. "I…have some news for you. Over."

It was Joyce. He immediately picked up the small black device.

"What is it? Is it-" he asked urgently, but Joyce cut him off.

"No, no nothing that urgent. Its…you know about the horses the Munsons had? Over."

Jim frowned. "Yeah, okay? Over."

"I know where they are. And you also want to call in Animal control. Over."

Great. Just what he needed.

Well, at least he knows what happened to them.

Now for the those who are being hunted…


All things considered; things went smoothly at Starcourt.

Okay, there was that encounter with that Popeye son of a bitch Harrington, but otherwise, everything is alright on his end.

As he went outside, Billy was surprised to find the sun slowly coming down, the yellow light slowly turning orange.

Anyways, he mentally checked the list as he went to his car.

Snacks and drinks for the road, check. Painkillers, bandages, and some disinfectant liquid, check. Clothes, check. Heck, he even bought a comic book for the kid. Hope she likes X-Men.

Billy felt tired and irritated, but this was nothing. He just unloaded the bought goods into the backseat of his car, and decided- no, knew he needed a smoke.

He pulled a pack of freshly bought Marlboro cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket, took one, and lit it up. Inhaling that sweet, sweet tobacco smoke, he felt his nerves calming down. Now when he thinks about it much more, as he leans onto his Camaro, the encounter with Harrington left him more agitated than he refused to admit.

"You are not the guy who fights for others, you only fight for yourself."

'That son of a bitch, who the hell he thinks he is!?' Billy furiously thought.

"If only you knew Harrington…if only you fucking knew." He muttered, exhaling the smoke and watching the people milling around the parking lot and Starcourt entrance.

If only, if only Harrington knew he could fight for others.

He fought for his mom a long time ago. Fat chance that helped him.

"Sonova bitch…!" he pressed a hand at his forehead and growled. "Screw this! I got places to be."

Putting the cig in his mouth, Billy was just about to get into his Camaro. But then, he was stopped by a whistle to his right.

"My oh my! Is that a '67 Ca-ma-ro?" a voice with a southern drawl exclaimed excitedly.

Billy turned around and saw a blonde-haired man in a military-style outfit approaching him with his hands being his back. Black shirt, military jacket, pants, boots you name it. He even had a tattoo on his neck, a skull with two swords crossed over it, and a golden chain necklace underneath which looked kinda cool. It made him conscious about his own tattoo on his right shoulder…and his necklace.

The man in question took off his orange sunglasses as he gazed at Billy's car. "You know, when I was about your age, boy," the man pointed at him with the glasses, "a car like that was a realll chick magnet." He started with a friendly toothy smile, revealing a gold tooth in the upper level.

Billy did not like this man. For some reason, the guy pretty much screamed danger to him. He also didn't like how the man called him boy.

Harrington crossed the line with that one.

The blonde-haired man continued as he crouched down. "See you did some real work on it," he stated while looking at the…tires?

"Can I help you, sir?" Billy asked, making sure that the word sir sounds like an insult.

The man chuckled. "Ooh you can help me a bit, boy, if you're willing to answer some of my questions." He drawled, standing up and strutting a bit forward, just a few feet away from him.

"Are you a cop?" he asked.

The man smirked. "Noo, I'm not."

The bastard looked like he expected that question.

Billy took in a puff of smoke. "Then I got nothing to answer you, asshole" he stated flatly. He didn't have time for morons.

Billy was about to open the door but stopped when he saw that jackass come even closer and then had the audacity to lean on his car.

"You know, I also like how you worked in a bench seat in the back. Now from what I am to understand, Camaro only has two seats." The asshole observed.

Billy growled and took the cig from his mouth. "Okay, I don't know what's your fucking pro-"

"Just enough to carry…two more individuals, hmm?" the man stated coolly.

Cold blue calculating eyes watched him with intense scrutiny, despite the fact that the man was giving him a welcoming smile.

Which meant…

Laura's words echoed in his mind.

'Bad men.'

Shit.

"Hey, my car, my rules," Billy argued, putting the cig back and crossing his arms, trying to project an air of indifference, and to ignore his internal panic. He was also letting the guy know he's strong and not a pushover.

The man raised his hands. "Hey, hey, hey, who am I to question someone's decisions?" he chuckled. "I get it, boy." Billy was gonna punch this sonova bitch, he swore. "After all, we all lead different lives. Sometimes at a slow pace, and sometimes," the man stopped smiling as he looked Billy deep into his eyes, "in a rush somewhere."

Billy could see it clearly. Just like he saw it in Neil. Hidden deep behind a pleasant smile in public, visible only to him.

Cruelty.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to be in rush somewhere, hmmm?" the man asked, noticing his demanding tone.

"That quite frankly, sir, ain't none of your goddamn business," Billy answered, using the same tone when he talked back to Neil. Before he disciplined him…

The man smiled. "You know what, we are my manners. Names Donald. Donald Pierce." He put out his black-gloved right hand.

Billy looked down at it with contempt. This Donald Pierce wasn't put off much by this.

Billy blow smoke right to his face. "Billy Hargrove." He says, refusing to shake it.

"Billy Hargrove. " Pierce repeats slowly, not even bothered by the smoke. "Now now Billy, didn't your mother teach you any manners?" he tutted, waving his finger at him.

Billy clenched his fists. He was confident he could beat this motherfucker down to the ground. He seemed like a guy who just talked a lot and did jack shit. Despite the fact he looked military and looked like he could beat his ass.

"Look…Donald," Billy sneered, "you got 5 seconds to get your gold-tooth ass off my car and take a hike." Billy smiled. "Maybe you can go back to the Navy."

Donald Pierce again wasn't put off by that insult as he chuckled and put on his orange sunglasses.

Damn it.

"What? You are comparing me to good ol' Donald Duck. I gotta admit, in my humble opinion, we do share a propensity for…getting a bit angry when someone is being rude to us. Like not answering our questions."

Donald Pierce's smile was gone, and all that Billy saw was a glare that promised pain.

Billy's smile was too gone, and he remained silent.

"Say Billy, did you meet them? Last night?" Donald Pierce asked him, right down the business.

"Meet who dickhead?" Billy asked back, making sure he sounded unhelpful as possible.

Pierce wasn't amused by that. "You know whom I am talking about."

"No. I don't." Billy shrugged.

They stared at each other for a brief moment, both trying to see who will give up first. Until a couple of girls passing by them conversing stole their attention for a moment.

"I don't know how to feel. I mean, I was hoping to see him at the latest competition." one girl with bangs stated in devasted voice.

"This town is cursed, I swear." Her friend with curly red hair stated, murmuring darkly.

As they left, Billy decided to throw in his own rude question.

"Shame. What happened last night." Billy stated in an emotionless tone, taking the cig, throwing at the ground and crushing it with his heel.

Donald Pierce watched him in indifference.

"Wouldn't you know anything about that?"

Pierce shrugged. "A terrible tragedy that was." He stated, but he didn't sound sad at all.

Billy gritted his teeth. "A family of three. Dead." Billy stopped by after his confrontation with King Steve at a nearby retail shop to see the news there. And found out the rest of the details.

"As again, a tragedy. People mourn, they move on."

Then the bastard had the audacity to smile.

Feeling a wave of murderous rage pass over him, Billy uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists.

Billy decided to drop the…pleasantries.

"Did you have something to do with this?" he accused, breathing harshly.

Pierced mock gaped and put a left hand on his chest. Billy noticed in his rage it was gloveless and had a golden ring on it. "What? Me? I would never." He tilted his head. "Did you?"

"I asked first asshole." Billy spat.

Pierce just smirked. "Heh, guess your mama didn't teach you manners at all."

Billy had enough. He didn't give a shit it was a public place!

He started to advance at him. "You motherfucker-"

"Ah ah ah ah," Pierce warned him, taking a few steps back, "now now, we don't want any trouble do we now Billy?". He pulled back his coat and revealed a gun on his left hip.

Billy stopped. He stared at the weapon, a Glock he recognized. And then he saw from the periphery of his vision a man approaching them from the left. And then another from the right.

Both were glaring at him, and both were dressed too much for a summer day. But dressed perfectly in order to hide guns under them.

The two men went to stand beside Donald Pierce.

"You really want to mess with me, Billy?" Donald asked him, daring him to do something.

Billy said nothing. They wouldn't dare to do anything in public…right?

"Tell you what." Donald Pierce said. "Why don't you give me a call if you…see them? You know?" he pulled out a card from his pocket and offered it to him.

Billy didn't know what to say so he took it in a false sense of tenuous peace. A group of people started to emerge from everywhere. From the mall, coming to the mall, everywhere.

"Do we have a deal, hm?" Donald Pierce straightened his coat, hiding his gun.

Billy still said nothing.

Pierce clapped his hands. "We'll alright then. Boys, let's go." He motioned with his head, signaling the two men behind him as he left Billy relatively alone in the parking lot.

Billy still said nothing, just staring at the card.

Alkali-Transigen

Donald Pierce

Chief of Security

Then he quickly got in his car, turned it on, and with a screech left the spot, left the parking lot, and left Starcourt.

"The fuck?" he said in panic, breathing and driving quickly.

He couldn't go back directly to the motel, he just couldn't.

He's going to have to hide for a while. To throw them off. And he knew just the place.

Skull Rock.

Billy pressed gas on the Camaro and tried to figure out how the fuck is a company called Transigen involved in all this.


"Okay, do you see how this works?" Scott Clarke tried to explain it to her.

It was nearly dark, and she could see the light in the garage being replaced by an artificial one and could even hear crickets chirping outside.

And yet Joyce still couldn't wrap her head around it. As Scott finally wrapped the light copper wire connected with an AC device, solenoid Clarke called it, around a small metallic box with several magnets attached to it, she wondered what it all could mean.

"Now when electricity passes through it-"

"It creates an electromagnetic field." Joyce piped in. She remembered that part.

"Exactly," Scott confirmed in a subdued voice.

Joyce would have loved to imagine that his affirmative response would have been a more cheerful one like "exactamundo". But when she explained what happened last night…good God, Joyce could see those bright lights in his eyes dim.

When she told him the news, the man just slumped in his chair.

"I can't believe it. Nathan and his parents?" he breathed out after a few moments, taking the goggles off his forehead and putting them on the workbench.

"Yes." Joyce nodded. "I talked with Hopper, I mean Chief Hopper, and he said they don't know what exactly happened, but they think it was an accident." She "explained", her hands twisted together nervously in guilt.

Joyce felt like crap for lying to him like that. But with that shocked look on his face, she decided it was better for him not to know what really going on.

She did not want another innocent man, whom now she recalled was friends with Bob in high school, to die.

"Now for the interesting part." Scott declared, snapping her back to the present.

Joyce watched him as he turned on the AC transformer and pulled down the lever. She could hear electricity humming through and watched patiently for something to happen.

But nothing did.

Joyce was confused. She even waved her hand over the metallic box. Nothing. No magnets falling off.

"I…I don't see anything."

"You can't see it, but I assure you, it's there. What are you currently looking at it is our own small electromagnetic field." Scott declared.

"Um, okay." Joyce still didn't understand. How does this exactly work…?

"And now this field will affect any charged object in its vicinity." He stated to her.

"Just like my magnets?" she asked.

"Just like your magnets." He nodded.

"Okay, then why is nothing happening?" she questioned.

"Well, it's because our field is stable. But, if we suddenly reduce the current of electricity..." Scott turned off the device and the magnets suddenly fell off.

"…How?" Joyce was perplexed, once again waving her hand across.

"Well, the magnetic dipoles tried to orient-"

"No no, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but how is this happening at my house or at my job?"

"Quite honestly Joyce, it's probably one of your sons getting up in the middle of the night and accidentally bumping into the fridge, knocking them loose. As for your job, apophenia." Scott shrugged.

"Apo-what-o-whah?"

"Apophenia. Um, you're seeing patterns that aren't there. Coincidence." He explained.

Joyce still had her doubts. The hunch still urged her to ask. "But what if… it's not?"

Scott rubbed his chin in deep thought. "Well, theoretically speaking, I suppose some larger, vastly larger version, of this AC transformer, could probably exist. A machine of some kind."

"A machine?" Joyce didn't like the sound of that.

"Yes. However, in order to reach your house and downtown, gosh, that would take billions of volts of electricity and cost at least tens of millions of dollars." He stated.

"But it could be possible." She pointed out.

"We cured polio in '53. Landed on the moon in '69. As I always tell my students…" he trailed off, suddenly remembering what happened. Scott leaned on the workbench for support.

"Scott…"

He sighed deeply,"…once you open that curiosity door," He looked at her, "anything, is possible."

Joyce…did not like where this is going. A large machine. That would require billions of volts of electricity and cost millions of dollars.

A machine…built by someone who's wealthy and powerful.

But who?

Then she remembered earlier today. When Hopper got called…

"Local business owners gathered around to organize a protest again the mall. I promised I'll be there as a show of support."

Another hunch came to her. A theory…

Joyce sighed. "Thank you so much, Scott. You really helped me today."

"Well, I'm always glad to help. I mean, I didn't expect this. And definitely not," he breathed in, "…that."

"Yeah," she nodded, scratching her neck.

Joyce was about to continue asking more questions. But then…

*CA-CLOMP-CA-CLOMP-CA-CLOMP-CA-CLOMP

Joyce and Scott slowly turned their heads in the direction of the sound. What they saw on the street… was a horse. A black one. Walking at a slow pace. Followed by three more, two browns and one white.

That means…

"What the?" she heard Scott Clarke murmur as he stood up and went outside the garage. Joyce followed him and together they watched as they passed over the lawns and started to munch on the grass.

"Are those…to they belong too…" Scott wondered aloud.

"Yes…they did belong to the Munsons. Probably escaped during the fire." Joyce nodded staring at them.

An arson cover-up. How did they escape?

"…Should we call someone?" he asked.

"Um, I'm going to call Ji- Chief Hopper to get in contact with animal control."

"What? You have his phone number?" Scott frowned.

"…Sort of."

If only he knew…

Joyce quickly walked over to her car, opened the door, picked up the walkie-talkie, and tuned in their frequency.

"Chief. I…have some news for you. Over"

Jim answered immediately.

"What is it? Is it-" she could hear the urgency in his voice.

"No, no nothing that urgent. Its…you know about the horses the Munsons had? Over."

"Yeah, okay? Over." he responded, confused.

"I know where they are. And you also want to call in Animal control. Over."

As she watched sideways, the horses on the lawns and Scott Clarke watching them, Joyce could only think 'That's not the only news I have for you Jim.'


Eleven suddenly ripped out the bandana from the upper half of her face. They all waited in anticipation.

"Nothing." She declared, with disappointment clear in her eyes and her nose bleeding rather heavily, blood smeared a bit on her yellow striped T-shirt. She sagged as the tiredness caught up with her.

Muttering swears under their breaths, they eased up or at least tried to. Everyone except for Mike who watched Eleven in concern. Eleven herself was nursing her head, clearly in pain.

"El, why don't you take a break before you try again?" Mike suggested, clearly worried for her as Max handed her some tissues to wipe her face and Will took the picture in front of her and put it on the coffee table.

This was the third time they ended up with, or that is, Eleven ended up with zero results.

Dustin hoped at least she'll find someone from that picture. She searched first for the guy who looked the oldest. Then it was a guy next to him. Now it was a girl.

Nothing.

All of this was worrying him. Last night when they rushed into his house, just him, Lucas, and Max, he briefly hugged his mother and gave a flimsy excuse (lie) that he needed to show them some stuff he brought from Know Where and they would like to have a sleepover. While ignoring the internal panic he's been feeling since he heard…that.

Will, Lucas, and Max felt the same. Though not on the same level as him. At least not until he had words with Mike and Eleven.

That talk was currently on hold.

He heard Max add. "El, just…lay down on the couch. You don't have to drive yourself-"

"I...I need to find…them…" she whispered, exhaustion creeping into her voice.

"You will. Just…rest." Will reassured her as he stood up, and so did Mike.

"Ill try to find something in the kitchen for you to eat." Lucas stood up to do just that.

He saw Eleven stand up with the help of Mike and Will. As he watched her being escorted to the couch so she could rest, a sound interrupted the silence which followed suit.

"Hey kids. This is Hopper. Do you copy? Over." All heads in the living snapped their gazes at the walkie-talkie on the coffee table.

They looked at each other. Lucas mouthed "what now?"

"Guys. This is Hopper. Do you copy? Over."

Dustin took the initiative. He fixed his hat, went over to the coffee table, picked up the small device, and answered, "Hey Chief. This is Dustin. Over."

The rest watched him.

"Are you and the rest at the house? Over."

"Yes we are. Over."

That is true.

"Doing what? Over."

"Um, you know, just messing around. Over."

That was not true.

"Uh-huh. Can you give me El? Over."

Dustin looked over at Eleven who looked like she could barely stay awake. Mike and the rest shook their heads.

"Um, she's currently in the bathroom. Over."

That was also not true.

"Doing what? Over."

"Uh, are you really asking that Chief? Over." Dustin asked, adding as much skepticism as possible in his voice.

Dustin could hear the Chief sigh and roll his eyes. "Never mind, just stay there and I will come in an hour or two or Joyce or Nancy and Jonathan. Over."

This annoyed Dustin. "Or Steve. Over."

Is everyone just forgetting that Steve helped them?

"Yeah yeah, or Steve. That is all. Over and out."

With that, the call ended as Dustin put back the walkie-talkie, right next to the yellow Walkman Hopper found last night. Eleven laid back down on the couch while Mike gave her a pillow so she could rest her head. Both he and Max sat on the floor near the couch while Lucas went to the kitchen to search for snacks. Will sat on the chair that Max sat on a few hours ago.

'Shit, was that a few hours ago?' Dustin thought in disbelief.

Dustin looked outside through the window. Orange light took over the sky, meaning it's gonna get dark real soon.

He heard Lucas scurrying around the kitchen while Will asked EL, "So nothing? Nothing at all?"

Eleven shook her head. "No. I searched, and I searched. But nothing. I…I don't know what that means." She looked distressed by this.

Dustin glanced looks with the others. They too didn't know what exactly that meant. But there was a horrible possibility that they…were…

"Maybe they have superpowers that makes them…undetectable to you!" Mike says, trying to comfort El.

"Yeah! I mean they probably have superpowers like you. Wouldn't that make them, um, invisible to you?" Max said too.

Eleven shook her head. "I found Kali."

Ah yes, Kali AKA Eight, Eleven's sister whom she found in Chicago. They still didn't know the whole story behind that.

"Maybe it's different for her. I mean, you…did the same thing with pictures. Right?" Will says.

Eleven frowned, looking in the distance. "I…don't know what I am doing wrong."

Suddenly lights up all over the living room making Eleven shut her eyes.

The rest turned their heads to see Lucas was the one who did it, holding up a box of Egos waffles in his hands.

"Lucas! What's wrong with you?" Max angrily said to him.

Lucas frowned. "What? It's getting dark." He pointed outside.

Max didn't say anything, but she did give him the look and jerked her head in Eleven's direction.

"Oh shit! Sorry, El." Lucas shut the lights switch.

Will and Mike got up and started to light the lamp with a lighter hue of light around the living room while Max stroked El's hair and said soothing words to her while Lucas approached them and opened the box of Egos and handed one waffle to her. Eleven started to nimble it.

The light made Dustin glance at the coffee table that had their walkie-talkie, the picture…and the yellow Walkman.

He watched the small device on the table with small bloody fingerprints, the one that was probably held by…the one who's being…

Dustin had a sudden idea come to him. He walked over to the coffee table and after a second of standing in front of it, he picked up the yellow walkie-talkie.

"Um, Dustin, what are you doing?" he heard Lucas ask him.

Dustin ignored him.

"Dustin, this is not the time to mess around," Mike said.

Still ignoring.

"Dustin-" Max wanted to say but was interrupted when Dustin hit play on the Walkman.

"I want to break free,"

They all jumped as music and its lyrics blared from it.

"I want to break free"

"That's Freddie Mercury," Will stated in awe.

Mike frowned. "Isn't that the one were they got dressed in drag?"

The rest were transfixed by the music, Eleven the most.

"I want to break free from your lies"

"Maybe you need something they had," Dustin declared, snapping their attention at him. "Something which was in recent contact. Besides the picture."

"You're so self-satisfied I don't need you"

"And if he or she used that…" Lucas wondered out loud.

"I've got to break free"

"Then Eleven can find them!" Max exclaimed.

"God knows, God knows I want to break free"

Eleven put her waffle down and tried to stand up but failed when she winced in pain and laid back down, holding her head.

"I've fallen in love"

"Eleven, at least rest first before you try." Mike approached and crouched in front of her.

"I've fallen in love for the first time"

Will stood next to Dustin.

"Let's hope now it will work," Will said, staring at Max, Lucas, and Mike crouching in front of Eleven.

"This time I know it's for real"

"Yeah, let's hope." Dustin sincerely said.

"I've fallen in love, yeah"

"God knows, God knows I've fallen in love"


Gabriela has just finished a quiet prayer while holding her small golden crucifix, praying to God for strength and patience, as well as peace for the Munson family.

She was restless. The pain on her right side certainly didn't help. Thank God it's just a gash because otherwise she would be done for. And left Laura alone in the world.

She looked out through the closed window still.

Night has fallen, turning the sky nearly pitch black. And although the AC worked just fine, Gabriela still welcomed the passing of the sun, which meant lessening the heat. And unfortunately, they couldn't open the window because that would mean a possible sighting of them and another attempt on their life. It would all sound to someone who did not know of the situation to be extreme and/or crazy but with Transigen you do not take risks.

Laura had just finished her snacks which she managed to steal from a vending machine. And now she was doing it again. Poor thing hasn't eaten all day up to that point.

She too was restless. Earlier, during the day when she went outside to "check" the area around Liberty Motel (after their first argument), she came back agitated, despite carrying food in her arms. When asked what was wrong she simply replied "Saw Starcourt. Remembered who built it."

There was no need for further explanations.

Gabriela sighed.

Where was Billy Hargrove?

As more seconds passed, more and more they became agitated. It was like that for an entire day. Especially when that rude receptionist came to their doorstep to check on them and both Gabriela and Laura had to improvise and make up lies (mostly Gabriela) so there would be no trouble for them. At least for now. She was suspicious during the encounter. Mostly by the fact that Gabriela wore many-layered clothing during the day, which she did in order to secretly hide the wound.

She also saw the money. More glanced but that was more than enough. That was stupid of them, to leave it lying around in the open like that.

Oh, what does it matter? As soon as Billy Hargrove arrives there getting the hell out of here. This town…Hawkins

She did not tell Laura about that Russian girl. And to be honest, there was no need. Even if she was here originally, she's probably long gone by now. After all, who would in their right mind stay here? Close to that laboratory, which Gabriela now doubts if is it even shut down at all.

Gabriela suddenly heard the sound of something rumbling outside. A car. And she recognized the sound.

"Oh, gracias a Dios." She breathed out. Gabriela was ready to give up on the plan and leave with Laura immediately.

With great effort, she managed to get off the bed, her shoes, and clothes already on, and went outside.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the yellow hue light of the nearby lamps, the neon lights of the motel's sign, and the darkness of the night, with no signs of the sky above, just pitch-black darkness.

'Just like last night.'

Then, when she gripped the railing of the fence, she saw something in the distance. Billy Hargrove's blue Camaro came to the motel's parking lot at a quite alarming speed. With a screech of its tires, it stopped suddenly.

Hastily she managed to get to the stairs, down the stairs, and meet Billy Hargrove at the bottom who just exited from the Camaro, looking agitated.

"You, y-you came back." She breathed out in disbelief. Crickets chirped in the background.

Billy scoffed. "Of course, I did. A deal is a deal. Besides, I couldn't just return right away. There has been…a problem." He glanced around.

Gabriela stilled. "Problem? W-what problem?" she asked slowly.

"I-"

*CRASH

Both snapped their heads in the direction of the sudden sound.

"What the hell?" Billy muttered.

Oh no. Laura…

They saw in the distance Laura standing awkwardly next to a large black vending machine.

Billy frowned. "Why is she wearing pajamas?"

Gabriela tried to explain. "The blood-"

"Hey! What did you?!" both Gabriela and Billy snapped their heads at the heavy-set receptionist with curly hair that just emerged from the office, saw what was happening, and started to advance on Laura with an angry glare with the newspaper in her hand. Laura meets it with indifference, tilting her head.

"Oh no," Gabriela murmured and started to between the two of them.

"What did you do? Bad girl!" she sneered. "Do you have any idea how much that costs?"

"Senora! Senora please!" Gabriela faced the woman, trying to stop her, putting her hands forward. If she doesn't…

"Mamacita gonna have to pay!" the woman wasn't deterred by that as she accidentally pushed Gabriela face down on the pavement, making her grunt in pain. The motel manager as Laura and Billy rushed to her.

Laura knelled down to cup her face while Billy just stared at her, at a loss what to do.

"And I know you have money, I saw it! You're gonna-"

"Hey, lardsass!" Billy Hargrove growled, making the receptionist look at him in shock and back off. "Get your fat ass back inside! You're gonna get your money." He warned her, shaking his finger at her.

After a brief moment, the receptionist turned around and went to go back inside, muttering under her breath about rude people and damn foreigners.

Billy watched her leave. Then when she entered back he rushed to Gabriela, ignored Laura's glare, crouched down, and picked Gabriela up bridal style.

She heard Laura growl.

"Relax kid! I'm not gonna harm her." Billy huffed, annoyed. "Come on. Let's get you to the car, I've bought all the things we need for the trip."

"But the room…" Gabriela tried to say.

"I'll handle the checkout, don't worry about it." He waved it off.

"A-all right." She turned her head at Laura. "Laura, please get ou-our backpacks from the room."

Laura nodded and went back to get their things.

Thank God, Gabriela couldn't wait to get out of here with Laura. As Billy managed to open the backdoor and settled her in the back seat, she saw him go to the receptionist's office in order to check them out.

"You didn't have to be so rude to her." She said to him.

Billy stopped as he turned her head at her. "She watched you collapse and had the nerve to complain. Wait here." With that, he went to check them out.

As Gabriela waited and waited for him, Laura came back with their rucksacks and put them on the floor.

It then occurred to Gabriela. The revolver…

"Laura, dejé el arma en la habitación. Pero no se donde..." she whispered to her.

"Lo encontraré. No te preocupes." That was all Laura said and went quickly to retrieve the revolver.

Just as she went away, she saw Billy Hargrove emerge from the motel, and came to her, looking agitated.

"Damn bitch. Says she won't sign you off until she gets back the key."

"That's not a problem, Laura will it give back…as soon as she finds the gun."

"You lost it?" he stared at her in disbelief. "How could you lose a gun?!"

"Well, we've been waiting for you to come." She snapped back. "But you said…you had a problem. What happened?"

Billy rubbed his wispy moustache.

"When I was done shopping at Starcourt, a guy stopped me at a parking lot. A guy by the name of Donald Pierce."

Gabriela felt a cold chill down her spine. Suddenly, the pain she's been feeling disappeared for a moment.

"Donald Pierce?" she needed to hear that again.

Billy nodded. "Goddamn asshole. He's with them right?"

"He's their head of security! We have to leave. Now!"

"Yeah, no shit!" he agreed, looking at the motel. "Where's the damn kid?"

"Did they follow you?" Gabriela asked urgently.

"I bet they did. Hence the reason I didn't immediately return. I hid at the spot even cops don't know." Gabriela closed her eyes. "But don't worry, they don't… were…"

Billy trailed off as he and Gabriela turned their heads…to see a black SUV approaching. An SUV she recognized.

"Oh no…" Gabriela said as the vehicle stopped right in front of them, its light cast upon them.

Both watched in dread as the vehicle's door opened and from it came a demon in a human form.

"Well, howdy." Donald Pierce's disgusting gold-tooth smile greeted them.


Well folks, sorry for the long delay, I hope this 27K long chapter makes up for it. Now for the notes:

1. I have introduced Robin in this story, and with it, Hawkins responds to the fire (secret murder/arson cover-up).

2. We get Heather's POV as the main flayed for the Mind Flayer as well as the horror Confrontation

3. Two confrontations Billy has: one with Steve and one with Donald Pierce. I wanted to add a different POV from Steve and Billy. Billy gets also a face up with the dark reflection of himself.

4. Eleven cannot find the rest of her siblings because of reasons unknown to her. That will come into play later on in the story.

5. You have noticed I made a small title for this story. It ain't much but it's honest work.

6. I have started to work on a new story concerning the two most famous kaijus which I will start to post at the end of the year.

As for the final, my review of Volume 2...It was awesome! It had such great moments: Eddie shredding the Masters of Puppets (RIP), Eleven confronting Vecna, everyone else fighting against him simultaneously, all while Running Up That Hill is just *chef kiss*! I cant wait can't for Season 5 and what will they do with it.

That is all, I will see if can cram in one more chapter before the end of the year, but I assure you it will be there.

See you soon. :)