Chapter 13: Waist Deep in the Big Muddy
Author Notes:
Hi everyone it's me the Mandalorian terminator coming to you with another new chapter of my story Tales of The Wheeler Family. If you thought last chapter was full of juicy stuff then get ready because this chapter might top it! Finally the long awaited reunion/confrontation between Jim Hopper and Mary/Ten. This has been in my mind since I first came up with the idea to write this story. I am ready to do it justice. So hold on to your hats folks this chapter is going to be a bumpy ride! I do not own Stranger Things. The only character that is my own is Mary/Ten. The rest belong to the Duffer Brothers.
Revenge is the raging fire that consumes the arsonist
-Max Lucado
Then
Vietnam, 1968
Saigon was like any other city – a cluster of buildings and streets packed with people who were just like Americans, working, sleeping and eating. The biggest difference was the awareness in the back of everyone's minds that this place being taken by hostile forces was an all too real possibility. Hence the military presence, the bases, the non-native language-speaking soldiers everywhere. But in the meantime, what could a civilian in Saigon do, after prepping for any and all worst-case scenarios if they could, but go on with their everyday lives?
Jim Hopper certainly wasn't impressed by his first sight of the city, a sprawl of ugly, old-fashioned skyscrapers, blocks of flats piled up on top of each other like discarded boxes, electricity pylons and food stalls, traffic jams and policemen at every intersection, their whistles screaming like dying birds. The sun was setting, and the sky was grey. It was like looking at a television screen with the colour control turned down. Jim felt a hallow feeling in his stomach. What was he letting himself in for? How was he going to adapt to a country that was, in every last detail, so different from his own?
As the aircraft flew towards the Mekong Delta, Jim was struck by the absurdity of the Vietnam War. His company were so heavily armed that even though it was classified as a light infantry company, it had more firepower than a battalion had in Korea. Yet, the American army had been unable to defeat the Viet Cong in a war lasting for several years. Jim remembered the adage that guerrilla warfare could neutralize superior forces much as the Viet Minh did to the French in the early question remained whether America's forces were going to suffer the same fate as the French. It was thoughts like these that were so disquieting. Conversation was kept at a minimum because nobody had anything worth saying. Each of them was wondering about what to expect in South Vietnam and hoping to return stateside in one piece.
Jim's first glimpse of South Vietnam only increased his apprehension about his tour of duty as helicopter gunships were busy conducting close fire support and Air Force aircraft were delivering air strikes against suspected Viet Cong positions just north of Saigon. As their airliner circled to land at Bien Hoa Air Force Base, Jim's main concern and the preoccupation of the rest of the company was how long it take them to unpack their rifles and pass out the ammunition. A rumour had circulated widely around the battalion while at Fort Lewis that their sister battalion, the 5th Battalion, 12th Infantry, which had preceded them to South Vietnam by a couple of weeks, had been ambushed on the way from the airfield to their base camp. Although this rumour was later proven untrue, each member of Jim's company was certain that a Viet Cong soldier lurked behind every obstacle.
Despite their fears, the bus trip through the Long Binh Complex was uneventful. There was evidence of recent bitter fighting during the recent Tet Offensive. Buildings along the perimeter of the base had been destroyed and heavy weapon hits showed on the walls of the surviving structure. It was obvious that the Viet Cong had seriously challenged the U.S. Army in this area. By order of their company commander rifles were available but rifle bolts were kept under lock and key the twenty-five mile trip to their base camp. This precaution was a wise one, because Jim's unit's nervousness increased with each of the 25 miles or so it took to reach the 9th Infantry Division Base Camp at Bearcat. Bearcat was almost due east of Bien Hoa.
Jim's first impression of South Vietnam was of the beauty of the landscape, the attractiveness of the Vietnamese, and of the poverty of their surroundings. The landscape resembled a fairyland with odd-looking hills; jungles and rice paddies. Women were working in the rice fields with cone hats and distinctive dress of flowing materials. It was strange to see so many women working as manual labourers. Most of the manual labour had been left in the hands of women. To Americans it was novel to see such tiny women working as manual labourers. Most of the men were either in the South Vietnamese army, or with the Viet Cong. All the young men present were in one type of uniform or the other. Civilian males were either very young or very old.
The battalion's first two weeks in South Vietnam were spent in acclimatizing the troops to the heat, the humidity, the smells and the 9th Infantry Division's way of conducting military operations. Although nearly half of the division's forces were on operations in the Mekong Delta, Bearcat remained the divisional headquarters until the middle of the summer of was located northwest of Saigon near Long Thuah in a countryside that was sparsely populated, full of thickets and heavily wooded with short trees resembling Texas mesquite trees. Trees had grown so close together that along with the tickets it was only passable on narrow trails.
Despite the security of Bearcat, the Viet Cong conducted periodic assaults or mortar attacks. One such attack on the perimeter had killed two guards and wounded thirteen others just after Jim and the Battalion arrived at Bearcat. Then on April 6, a major and his driver were ambushed by a remote control detonated claymore outside the perimeter and killed. These attacks were well publicized throughout the division to alert them to the danger of living in a war zone.
On April 9, Jim and the rest of the battalion were officially welcomed to the 9th Infantry Division and formally introduced to the commanders. First to speak was a general from someplace down south with fiery carrot-coloured red hair and a little clipped carroty moustache. Carrot-coloured hairs were also sprouting out of his nostrils and his ear holes. He had pale watery-blue eyes. He looked like an ape without the body hair.
"My name is General Percy Wilson. You will call me "sir" or "Sergeant Wilson". You follow my instructions and maybe, just maybe you will get out of this hell-hole alive." The General announced, speaking in a southern drawl. He cast a particular disparaging glance at the blacks amongst the battalion but said nothing. Instead he pointed to a second figure who stood next to him. The man was Japanese with circular glasses, thin lips and hands that would have been small on a young boy.
"This here is Doctor Sulu. He may be a Jap but he's a damn smart Jap. He also is the base's physician. If you get shot or injured then this man might just save your life!" General Wilson barked. Doctor Sulu nodded to a few soldiers but didn't speak.
"And finally the boss herself, the commander of the 9th Infantry Division!"
A tall, lean woman walked up in front of Sergeant Wilson and Doctor Sulu. She was dressed in army fatigues and from the way they clung to the muscles in her arms and chest, the battalion could all see that she was extremely fit. She was young, in her mid-twenties. Her dark red hair was cut close to her skull, with a pattern of curving lines shaved her eyes. Her multiple-coloured eyes gazed at the soldiers in front of her.
Several of the men let out quiet chuckling. None of them were expecting their commander would be someone so young let alone a woman.
"My name is Commander Mary. You will address me as "Ma'am" or commander. Let me be perfectly clear. This is not summer camp. It is not a holiday. You are not here to work on your tan. You are here to fight and win this war. And kill the Viet Cong. That is your purpose here. If I give you an order you will obey it. No ifs or buts. No questions asked. As you may have learnt recently the Viet Cong have conducted several assaults near the perimeter of Bearcat. The recent Tet Offensive has emboldened them. They think they have nothing to fear from any reprisals we may take. We will dispel them of this notion soon enough. We are close to an offensive that will change the course of this war. Not just for South Vietnam but Laos and Cambodia as well. Assuming you survive long enough some of you may even take part in it. But that is for another time. For now you will get accustomed to life here not just in Bearcat but in South Vietnam. You will begin social interactions with the men who are surrounding you. They will become your teammates and friends. More important they will become your family. You will protect each other in a fire fight and if necessary you may have to leave a member behind. Is that understood?"
A chorus of "yes ma'am" echoed out to Mary with the exception of one. Jim had not spoken. Mary noticed this and narrowing her eyes approached him.
"Something the matter, Private–" Her voice was low, almost threatening.
"Hopper. Jim Hopper, ma'am," Hopper answered.
"Private Hopper. Volunteer?"
Jim shook his head. "No, ma'am."
"Would you?" Mary suddenly asked.
Jim decided to be honest. "No, ma'am," he said truthfully.
"Here that everyone! We have a peacenik amongst us," Mary announced to the rest of the men.
"I'm not a peacenik, ma'am." Jim replied as respectfully as he could.
"You're not a hippie are you?"
"No, ma'am."
"Well then Private Hopper. What are you?"
"A husband, ma'am. Who just wants to get back to his wife and unborn child," Jim answered. God he missed Diane. He should be there with her making sure she's okay when she gives birth not stuck here fighting some half-starved beggars in a jungle.
"And that makes you special does it?"
"No, ma'am," said Hopper promptly.
"You didn't answer my question. You disagree with the suggestion of leaving a member behind in a potential fire fight?" Mary asked and although her tone seemed pleasant enough there was an edge to it.
"You said we should act like a family, ma'am. If that's the case then in my opinion you don't leave family behind."
"How heroic," General Wilson said under his breath with contempt.
"That is quite admirable, Private Hopper. It's also stupid. Let me explain why. A hypothetical, Private. If you and one of the other men standing next to you here were caught in an ambush by the Viet Cong and your comrade was severely injured what would you do?"
"Call for a helicopter, ma'am."
"And if it doesn't around in time? What are you going to do then, Private Hopper? Carry your dead comrade all the way back to base on your back?" All the time she spoke, Mary's eyes never left Jim's face. There was an almost hungry look in them. "That would slow you done and you would end up dead as well. Then I would have two dead soldiers instead of one alive. That is why if a rescue helicopter is not forthcoming and you have a severely injured comrade you will leave them behind. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," all was Jim said. He decided it was best not to annoy his new commander any further than he had already.
A little scoff was heard from a nearby solider standing next to Jim. He was tall and lanky, with jet black hair and a hard face.
Mary immediately turned to face the soldier who had dared challenge her. "Something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Private –"
"Butcher. Billy Butcher," He introduced. "And I wasn't aware women were serving in Vietnam. I got some moves I think you'll like." It was clear from the rest of the man exactly what "moves" Butcher was referring to.
Mary smiled tightly then asked if he knew judo. When Butcher replied he didn't, she executed a perfect judo move, grabbing his arm and twisting it back, hard. He yelped and dropped.
"Do you have anything else to say?" She asked. When Butcher shook his head no, Mary let him go and walked back to the front where General Wilson and Doctor Sulu stood. After that, the battalion paid her their full attention.
Mary stared at the battalion again for a few moments, as if x-raying them each individually. When she spoke again, it was slowly and deliberately, as though she weighed the single word she spoke:
"Dismissed."
Now she turned to leave, Doctor Sulu close behind her.
The men all stood there for a minute then General Wilson bellowed out, "Well? You heard her! You get over to your barracks, stow your gear, and get your asses over to the OD. You understand? Double-time, you fuckers!"
The men all immediately obeyed and General Wilson turned on his heels and followed after Mary and Doctor Sulu.
Well, Jim though. That was a hell of an introduction.
Now
Mary cast her eyes over the small living room she, Joyce and Jim were in. She could almost taste the freshness of the crisp night air. Through the large glass windows, Mary could see the dark, moonlite trees of the fooresy, grouped together in silent formations.
Her eyes flickered over to the photos laid out on cabinet opposite the wall. "Fatherhood seems to have suited you well, Jim," Mary remarked as she crossed the floor to get a better look at the photos. The first one was of a beaming Joyce standing next to Jim dressed in a white wedding gown and Jim wearing a slightly oversized black tux. The second was of Jim standing next to a small slightly shy looking girl with blonde hair. Mary instantly recognised her as Sara, Jim's first daughter. The third photo was Jim his arms outstretched holding a new-born sleeping baby as Eleven and Mike both looked on smiling, Eleven seated in a hospital bed.
The last one that caught her eye was of Jim and Eleven standing next to one another smiling brightly, looking like any father and daughter. Mary's fingers gently lingered over the frame as she stared longingly at the photo of Eleven before turning back to face Jim.
Mary stared at Hopper, examining him from head to foot much as one would a relic in a museum. "Nothing to say to your commanding officer, Jim?" She asked smugly, without hesitation, as if she had anticipated this meeting for some time.
"How...how are you alive?" Jim finally spoke, his voice quiet and unsure compared to how loud and boisterous his tone usually was. "I saw the pictures Bond took after he shot you. No one could have survived that at point range."
"Oh but I did. Thanks to some armour underneath and by using a special technique to lower my pulse and heart rate to a standstill so anyone would think I had in fact died. Bond was none the wiser and neither were you it seems," Mary explained. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. For years I languished thinking of nothing but how you had undermined me and my authority. How I had been abandoned and replaced by my sister. I was forgotten! I pictured this moment in my head so many times and now...now it has finally came to pass. Not quite how I imagined it going I'll admit but that doesn't matter too much."
Mary swept her arms around the room as she spoke. "You have everything! The house, the wife, the daughter. And yet there's one thing I noticed missing. The war medals. Where are they, Jim? Why aren't they on display for all to see and marvel at your bravery and valour in battle?"
There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. Mary broke it.
"So I took the liberty of looking around your charming home and I found this."
She stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the familiar box labelled Vietnam that Jim had kept hidden out from behind the sofa. The lid was off and the contents spilled out onto the floor in front of them. Documents, photos and several medals were amongst the many items.
"Everything you did, everything you saw - all hidden away?" Mary asked incuriously. She tut-tutted. "How unfortunate. Still I suppose it's easier for you to want to forget what you did in Vietnam."
"Shut up," Hopper spat, who had balled his hands into fists in the pocket of his pants. He could not help but feel a resentful admiration for Mary's complete lack of fear. Her face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.
"Oh, but why?" whispered Mary. "Or are you afraid of what happened back in the war? So ashamed that you have to hide all trace of it from your presence?"
Hopper said nothing.
"It doesn't matter. Here alone lays the sins of your past, Jim," Mary sneered, gesturing to the box's contents sprawled on the floor between them. "I've already taken care of your partner in crime."
Partner in crime? Jim had no idea who she was referring to. It had been so long since Vietnam that aside from the nightmares he suffered from he had forgotten much. "Who?"
Mary raised an eyebrow.
"Frank Kelley," She said.
Jim had the horrible sensation that his insiders were melting. He hadn't seen or spoken to Frank since they had come back to America following the Paris Peace Deal. Of course he had seen the news about Frank's death the night before – an "accident" it had been labelled but now he knew the truth. "You...you killed him?"
Mary turned her multiple-coloured eyes upon Jim, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh. "Indeed I did. I needn't to worry about your third accomplice. Billy Butcher, you remember him? Quiet, kept to himself. The man's now become an alcoholic, abusive bastard. I mean is it any wonder how his son turned out.
"And then there was you. You, who has suffered very little aside from the tragic death of your dear daughter Sara –"
"Don't say her name!" Hopper shouted, interrupting Mary.
"How touching," Mary sneered. "As I was saying, it's so tragic to lose such a young child especially from cancer. And then there was your marriage breakup as a result." An insane grin spread across her face. "If you ask me you haven't suffered nearly enough. But I can fix that."
Without hesitation, Hopper launched himself towards his enemy, drawing back his fist to deliver a knockout blow. His clenched knuckles flew at Mary, who caught it easily with her bare hand, squeezing it until the bones ground together.
Grunting, Hopper attempted a gut punch with his other fist, but she effortlessly blocked the blow.
"Peace has cost you your strength," Mary declared. "Age has weakened you."
Stronger and faster than anyone Hopper had ever fought before–even in his prime–Mary slammed into Hopper, knocking him backwards. A roundhouse kick swept his legs out from under him, sending him tumbling to the floor.
This wasn't going well...
Determined to put Mary on the defensive, Hopper lunged at her again, striking out with his fists and boots. Mary effortlessly countered his moves.
They broke apart, facing off between each other. Mary looked like he was just warming up.
"I am not weak," said Hopper in a low voice, fury now pumping through him so that he thought he might attack Mary in a moment.
"Then prove it! Fight me like a man!" spat Mary. "Fight me like you did when you led a mutiny against my command and tried to kill back in Vietnam!"
She parried Hopper's attack, then drove the former police chief back with a rapid-fire series of kicks and punches. Mary managed to get her hands around Jim's neck, trying to snap it, but Hopper broke her hold by clasping his own hands together and delivering an upward thrust that drove Mary's arms apart and away. Even so, Hopper staggered backward–he was on the defensive now, losing ground.
Mary clenched her fists, tensed, and threw another kick.
It was only a matter of time.
I broke you once, Mary thought. I can do it again.
"Tell me Jim do you still remember the old war song we use to sing during the night?" She asked casually, trying to gauge his reaction to the mention.
"Shut up," Hopper replied, although Mary noticed the fleeting flicker in his eyes at the mention.
"Oh you do remember." Mary smiled and suddenly without warning she began to sing.
"It was back in nineteen forty-two,
I was a member of a good platoon.
We were on maneuvers in-a Louisiana,
One night by the light of the moon.
The captain told us to ford a river,
That's how it all begun.
We were – Knee deep in the Big Muddy,
But the big fool said to push on."
After the last word had been said, the reaction from Hopper was as sudden as it was alarming. The former police chief began to gasp and heave wildly. As a look of pure unhidden horror fell on Hopper's face, his limbs and spine began to feel as if some unseen force was pushing on them to bend them to its indecipherable whims. As his body seemed to contort itself on its own accord, Jim found himself sitting with his spine not slouched in the slightest and his hands placed over his knees.
"Stop it!" He bellowed in pain. But Mary instead smiled with delight and resumed the song.
"The Sergeant said, "Sir, are you sure,
This is the best way back to the base?"
"Sergeant, go on! I forded this river
'Bout a mile above this place.
It'll be a little soggy but just keep slogging.
We will soon be on dry ground."
We were, waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on."
Jim's body began twitching. At first it was confined to his right shoulder but in a matter of seconds it spread to Jim's entire body. At the climax of this twitching, Jim's neck flexed and his head was raised before returning to its original position. While Jim's neck and head were as they once were, it was pain beyond anything Jim had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end...to black out...to die...
At the same time Hopper was in pain, Mary raised her hand towards Jim as blood began to drip from her nose and the song continued.
"The Sergeant said, "Sir, with all this equipment
No man will be able to swim."
"Sergeant, don't be a Nervous Nellie,"
The Captain said to him.
"All we need is a little determination;
Men, follow me, I'll lead on."
We were, neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on
Daddy? Where's my hair tie?
Something in his chest jolted to a grinding stop like someone took his heart in their fist and squeezed. Air flew out of his lungs like a sucker punch and Jim began to look around the room, his head still screaming in pain.
Jim's first instinct was to shout for her, instinct so strong that the sound felt like it would tear its way out if his throat, one way or another. Sara, baby, I'm here. Dad's here. The words felt like they were pulsing behind his teeth.
The second instinct was for his mind to reject the voice absolutely. The impossibility of it crashing into him, rationality taking over because he'd seen monsters and he'd seen a child come back from the dead but she's gone. She's gone. She's gone.
Lord knew he and Diane had woken up enough nights – stumbled their way to Sara's bedroom to give her her medicine, certain she was calling out to them – found each other sobbing and screaming in the hall.
He hadn't been able to stand it after a while. The house with the two of them and the ghost voice of their dead daughter.
Then. Then it was him and Jane.
Another little girl. Another daughter. And now the ghost had returned.
Daddy? Where's my hair tie...
He'd given it to Jane. Slipped it on her wrist before the Snowball when she was nervous. Told her it was lucky, just like he had told Sara before her first round of chemo.
"Stop it!" He screamed again, although whether it was to Mary or the voice of his dead daughter he wasn't sure.
But Mary continued with her outstretching hand and with singing the song.
"All at once, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, the captain's helmet
Was all that floated by.
The Sergeant said, "Turn around men!
I'm in charge from now on."
And we just made it out of the Big Muddy
With the captain dead and gone.
We stripped and divided and found his body
Stuck in the old quicksand.
I guess he didn't know that the water was deeper
Than the place he'd once before been.
Another stream had joined the Big Muddy
'Bout a half mile from where we'd gone.
We were lucky to escape from the Big Muddy
When the big fool said to push on."
Mary circled her battered foe, like a stalking tiger. Blood still falling from her nose, she looked down at his pitiful form. "Pathetic," She said. Mary looked like she was enjoying herself now as she sung:
"Well, I'm not going to point any moral,
I'll leave that for yourself
Maybe you're still walking, you're still talking
You'd like to keep your health.
But every time I read the papers
That same old feeling comes on;
We're, waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
The pain was so intense, so all consuming, that Hopper no longer knew where he was...white-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain; he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life–
"This is your new home," He heard himself say to Eleven when they had begun to tidy up the cabin.
Suddenly he was back in Vietnam, the sound of rapid gunfire all around him. Sweat dripping from his shirt, his eyes darted around as he struggled to identify where the gunfire was coming from.
Oh god, he thought. He was back here. How could he be back? This hell-hole of a place had almost broken him long ago. It had only been through being a father to Sara with Diane that he had even been able to maintain some semblance of normalcy after returning from the war.
Post Vietnam Stress Syndrome is what they had called it when he came home and every night ended with a whiskey and Tuinal cocktail or a screaming nightmare. Battle fatigue is what they called it when his father got back from Japan. They called it shell shock before that and soldier's heart before that and something else before that and before that and as long as there had been boys that walked back in through their front doors that weren't quite the same as the one that walked out of them. They probably had got a new name to call it now, but that didn't change what it looked like.
The thing that would always stay with Jim was the smells. Burning rubber, paint, wood, tile, straw, clothes hair, melting flesh, vegetation, scorched earth, and concrete and bricks reduced to powder.
The smells were of fetid stagnant water pooling in shell holes and streams and creeks damned by debris from all manner of explosives – bombs, rockets, mortars, mines, artillery, rifle grenades, booby-traps...
The smells were of decomposing non-combatants–old men, old women, young fathers, young mothers, young children, the new born, and even the domestic animals–dogs, cats, pigs, hogs, goats, cattle, sheep, chickens, geese...
And the smells were of his wild partners – rodents, snakes, spiders, owls, birds of prey, and fish and frogs lying quietly by the creeks and rivers–unintended casualties caught in the vortex of collateral damage.
"Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep! Neck deep! Soon even a
Tall man I'll be over his head, we're
Waist deep in the Big Muddy!
And the big fool says to push on!"
At that final lyric spoken, Hopper's pain seemed to stop. His screams abating, Hopper's facial expression changed. Where there was once a look of sheer terror, there was now a blank indiffence. Though his dark blue eyes were wide open and unblinking, there was no hint of any emotion whatsoever. It was with this expression on his face that Hopper sat as still as a statue.
Mary stopped singing and approached the still Hopper. Now was the moment of truth. "Ready to comply, Soldier?" She asked.
"Awaiting orders," Jim spoke in a flat monotone voice.
I did it, Mary thought. "It worked!" She yelled ecstatically, with all the manner of a small child at Christmas time. "After all these years, the programming still works. I can't believe it. I had my doubts but it seems I was wrong to."
Mary was gazing at Jim, as though appraising his possibilities. Overcome by emotion and fear for Hopper, the battered and bruised Joyce (who had watched silently the entire fight) now brought herself right in front of Mary, even though the red-haired woman was much taller than Joyce. But that didn't reduce any of the uncharacteristic rage flowing out of the normally sweet mother.
"What did you do to him?"
"Oh don't wrong Joyce your husband is quite alright, I promise. But I'm afraid I'm going to need to borrow him for awhile," Mary said, excitement in her voice.
"Tell me – is there a broom closet in this house?" She asked Hopper, who nodded in a dazed manner.
"Good. Soldier, kindly put Joyce in the broom closet," Mary ordered.
Without warning, Hopper's hand flew towards Joyce; next moment, he was dragging her across the living room and down the corridor towards a small closet door, Mary following close after them. With one hand, he yanked open the door and with the other he practically shoved Joyce inside the small dim-lit closet.
Mary lingered by the door as she looked down at Joyce. "You've been most helpful, Joyce thank you," She said with malice before closing and locking the closet door leaving Joyce trapped inside.
Turning back to face Hopper, she beckoned him to follow her. "Start the car Solider; we're going to pay a visit to Terry Ives."
As Hopper silently drove his car through the darkened road toward the Ives house, Mary took the opportunity to read over what (little) information she had managed to acquire regarding Terry Ives. She had gathered files on almost everyone her sister had ever encountered in Hawkins from her now husband Mike Wheeler to the science teacher Mr Clarke. It had been exhausting work but Mary had always prided herself on her meticulous attention to detail. She assumed it had stemmed from Brenner's tutelage and the vast amount of records he had kept of the day-to-day running of Hawkins Lab and the operations of Project MK-ULTRA. Mary herself had kept meticulous records during her time in Vietnam: body counts, weapons captured, hamlets pacified.
Taking out the smaller file she had brought with her; Mary began to read to herself:
"Terry Ives' legal case against embattled research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner suffered another setback today when the district attorney's office formally refused to press criminal charges against Brenner, his fellow researchers, assistants, or the projects sponsors, citing lack of evidence.
Another report in the file featured an image of several patients and a tall doctor labelled as Brenner.
Mary skimmed through an article with the heading, "Dr. Martin Brenner Named in Lawsuit"
Senior researcher Doctor Martin Brenner and seven other staff researchers have been named in a new lawsuit filed today on behalf of former federal research study participant, Terry Ives. Dr. Brenner's attorney in conjunction with the Department of Energy has asked the circuit court to seal the documents of the lawsuit until the attorney general's office can determine that no federal...
But Mary skipped ahead to the part of the article that featured the nature of the lawsuit, reading,
...her new-born daughter for scientific research. Following an investigation, the district attorney has already declined to press criminal kidnapping charges against the research facility and staff, citing lack of evidence. Dr. Brenner's attorney called Ms. Ives' allegations baseless and tragic, citing 's excellent reputation, his twenty recent peer-reviewed scientific papers...
She next found an article with an image of a young, beautiful woman with the title "Terry Ives Suing" and a quote underneath, "They took my daughter."
After the district attorney's office declined to press criminal charges citing lack of evidence, local resident Terry Ives is not giving up her search for justice for herself and her daughter, and this morning filed a lawsuit against research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner and his staff.
Ms. Ives seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and kidnapping.
Mary closed the folder and leaned back in the passenger seat, deep in thought. The failed lawsuit was the last time Terry Ives had ever been seen in public. There were no records of her after that. And yet, Mary knew that Eleven had reunited with her long-lost mother. A mother who had loved her and tried desperately to rescue her. Mary couldn't help but feel resentful that her mother had never tried to find her. Did she even have a mother?
Of course you have a mother, A corner of her mind—the ever calculating one, the one that put the pieces of every puzzle together to meet her ends—told her. Everyone has a mother.
Did my mother try to rescue me from Brenner as Terry attempted to?
What difference does it make?
I could have been loved. I could have been part of a family. I...I could have been normal
A family? Normal? You don't honestly think you will ever be normal? You're better than everyone else. You know this. Why else would Papa have sent you off to fight in Vietnam? Did he send any of the other experiments to fight there? No. Just you. Because you were better than all of them. Did Eleven go to Vietnam? Did she stalk the jungles of Vietnam every day and night looking for the Viet Cong? No! You did!
This fierce battle continued raging inside Mary's brain until she finally registered that Hopper had stopped driving and that they were now in front of the unkempt property of Terry Ives. "Go to the door. Tell Becky it's urgent you see Terry Ives," Mary instructed.
Hopper climbed out of the car and knocked on the front door. Becky Ives pulled aside the curtain on the door and peered out at him through the window before she opened the door.
"Jim, can I help you?"
"It's urgent I see Terry Ives," Hopper said in a monotone robotic voice.
"Why?" Becky asked with a mistrustful gaze.
"It's urgent I see Terry Ives," Hopper repeated in the same tone of voice.
"Didn't you hear the man? It's urgent," Mary said appearing at Hopper's shoulder, her gun pointed straight at Becky. "Won't you let us in?"
Eyes wide, Becky nodded nervously and led them into a room where a TV set ran quietly. A beautiful, vacant looking woman sat in a rocking chair wearing a nightgown and robe. Though she faced the television set she seemed to stare past it.
"Terry, you have some visitors," said their hostess.
Mary stepped forward and knelt down in front of Terry so that she was face-to-face with the woman. "The famous Terry Ives. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," She said as she gazed at Terry appraisingly. "Do you think she can hear us? Can she understand what's going on around her?"
Terry shrugged slightly. "I like to think so," She said.
"Terry, my name is Mary or Ten if you like," Mary explained slowly as she rolled up her sleeve and showed the number TEN on her arm, causing Becky to gasp slightly. "I'm Eleven's sister. I'm from the Lab."
Terry meanwhile continued to stare at the television.
"No matter. It's you I wanted to talk to anyway, Becky," Mary said turning to face Becky.
"Me? Why?" Becky whispered stepping back from the other woman as Mary continued to advance towards her until Becky found herself in-between Mary and the unmoving blank-faced Hopper. Becky stared up at his face. There was something very funny going on here...
"How did Jim get like this?" She asked slowly.
"Well, that's an interesting question," said Mary pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Jim Hopper's like this is because he trusted the wrong person. Well I say trusted but to be honest Jim never trusted me. He certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me even from right at the beginning when we first meet."
"You see I was his commanding officer while we were in Vietnam together," said Mary. "During moments of R&R I used to sing songs to my troopers. They probably thought I was trying to cheer them up, regain their spirits after a battle. Little did they know that while the soldiers slept, I would arrange to have their sleeping forms carted away and subjected to multiple hypnosis that, in the end, made them the perfect obedient warriors who would follow any command given to them. After being activated by my trigger phrase, of course." Mary's eyes glinted.
"And the best part was that they had no idea themselves what I had done, that they could even be activated. Sleeper soldiers if you will. I admit I wasn't even sure the trigger phrase would still work on Jim. It had been so long you see. But lo and behold it did work and now once again Jim Hopper is under my complete control!"
Mary laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit her. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Becky's neck.
"I can make him do anything now. Look." Mary gestured for Becky to look at Jim and said, "Soldier, jump up and down on the spot."
Immediately Hopper proceeded to do just that, his large form bobbing up and down. He looked almost comical if not for the blank expression on his face.
"Now, run around in a circle," commanded Mary, clearly enjoying herself.
Once again Hopper complied with the order, his face still masked by his unmoving expression.
"Enough!" Mary said and Hopper stopped. "Now Jim go into the kitchen, take out a knife and return here with it."
Hopper disappeared into the adjutant kitchen and after a moment returned carrying a small thick knife. Becky looked on slightly worried as Hopper held out the knife in front of him, waiting for orders. Mary glared coldly at Hopper.
"Now slit your throat with it," She commanded, as plainly as if she were discussing the weather.
Hopper swung the knife in a wide arc and just as Becky turned away Mary's voice rang out. "Stop."
Becky looked up, expecting to see blood but instead the knife's tip was mere centimetres from Hopper's throat.
Mary laughed her high laugh again.
"You see? Completely obedient." Mary now fixed her eyes firmly on Becky. "Now let's talk about you, Miss Ives."
The door was old and wooden. That was the first thing Joyce noticed as she stared at the small broom closet she was encased in.
Using a front kick, Joyce drove the heel of her foot into the door. She gave the kick forward momentum and kept her balance by driving the heel of her standing foot into the ground.
The wood began to splinter. The heavy wooden door finally gave way, and Joyce was soon easing herself past it. Immediately rushing to her phone she dialled the specific number and anxiously waited for an answer.
"Philadelphia Public Library, how may I help you?" a monotone man answered.
"I need to get in contact with Doctor Sam Owens. It's urgent," Joyce replied.
"Code name?"
"Antique Chariot," Joyce said somewhat convincingly remembering Hopper had used that in '85.
"I'll let him know," the operator replied.
"NO!" Joyce exclaimed. "I need to get in contact with him immediately. It is life or death here."
"Please hold."
"Thank you." Joyce nervously tapped her fingertips against the wall as she waited.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes. I'm here," Joyce said.
"Dr. Owens is on a plane at the moment. But when he reaches the landing base, I will have informed of the situation."
"Tell him it's urgent. That Hopper has been... brainwashed by someone from the Lab calling herself Ten," Joyce said desperately.
There was a pause. "What was that name again, ma'am?"
"Ten. Why?"
The phone hung up. Joyce could only wonder what had happened. Clearly the name 10 was significant. In the meantime she will ring Eleven and tell her what had happened to Hopper. Her only hope was that Sam Owens could arrive in time. "Please be safe Jim," Joyce prayed to herself.
"Miss Ives I will make this as brief as I can. All I need from you is a simple answer." Mary began as she sat opposite Becky Ives in the living room, Jim Hopper standing behind her awaiting order once again.
She leaned forward. "Where is the fob watch?"
Becky stared up at her innocently. "What fob watch?" she asked promptly.
"Now, Miss Ives, let us not play childish games. All time is transitory, and mine especially so. This will go more quickly and less awkwardly if we dispense with childish nonsense."
"There is no fob watch in this house," Becky replied.
"Miss Ives I know all about your sister and how she volunteered for the program Dr. Brenner ran. I know about the multiple court cases she took against Dr. Brenner and his staff. And I know who you are as well." Mary leaned back against the soft sofa she was seated in as if in thought. "I've read your files from UNIT and I must say you're a woman after my own heart, Miss Ives."
Becky's stomach turned over. "UNIT?" She asked, pretending not to understand.
"Yes perhaps hearing your name spoken out loud will cause some recognition. Do you prefer I call you "Master" or "Missy"?" Mary asked, the corners of her lips forming a small smile.
Damn it she knew, Becky thought. Oh well the game was up. No use in pretending. But if she knows about you then she must know about –
"That's right," said Mary, as if reading her mind. "I know you've been here on Earth for quite some time hiding away, pretending to be human. I am currently in the employ of some very dangerous people who have vast resources at their disposal. These people will go to any lengths to get what they want. They were able to get access to files from UNIT and Torchwood. Their satellites detected large amounts of Artron energy located in Hawkins dating back from the late know what Arton energy is. They also know what a T.A.R.D.I.S is as well. If anything you should be grateful they decided to send me to get the fob watch and not the Big Guy. I have no intention of harming you. In fact I have no interest in you at all, Missy. All I want is for you to give me the fob watch that is in this house. Then I'll leave and you will never see me again."
Becky made a show of seriously considering the proposal before replying phlegmatically, "There is no fob watch anywhere in this house. And my name isn't Missy or the Master."
Mary loomed large over the other woman. She almost sighed. "Unfortunate. Hold her, Solider." Jim walked over behind the chair and held Becky in place.
"I would have preferred to avoid this. Despite what you may believe, it gives me no pleasure. I will go as easily as possible but I will take what I need."
Mary raised a hand, held it towards her, palm outward. Through it Mary channelled currents of pain from her own bottomless well–and tendrils that would probe the depths of Becky's weak mind.
"Tell me. Tell me."
Becky – the Master – remained motionless and silent, her arms at her side, as Mary searched for what she needed.
"Get-out-of-my-head."
It only made Mary lean in closer, enhancing the Master's feeling of complete helplessness. "I know the fob watch is here in this house. And you're going to show me exactly where it is. And I'm going to take it."
Where the strength to defy Mary came from she did not know, but if anything, her voice grew a little stronger. "I'm not giving you anything."
Mary's response reflected her unconcern. "We'll see."
Ah, Mary thought to herself. Something there, of interest. The image of the fob watch was becoming clearer. Finally. Mary would have. She shifted her perception towards it, seeking to identify, to analyse, to –
The barrier she encountered stopped her cold. And it was her, Mary, who blinked. It made no sense. She pushed, hard, with her mind-and the probe went nowhere.
"How?"
"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing – or at least, most minds are." The Master smirked. "It is possible, however, for someone strong and skilled enough to delve into someone else's mind and interpret their findings correctly. It's why all Time Lords are taught at a young age how to create mental barriers to protect and shield their mind against external penetration."
Mary's response was resigned. "Clever. But you forget, there are other ways to get information from a person. Solider, take out your gun. Point it at Terry Ives."
Hopper complied, placing the barrel of his gun at Terry's temple.
"No!" The Master pleaded, leaping to her feet but Mary shoved her back.
"Here's what's going to happen. Since asking nicely and trying to access your mind didn't work we're going to do things the hard way now. I'm going to count to three and then I'm going to order Jim to shot your sister in the head. Unless, of course, you give me the fob watch."
"You...you can't," The Master said.
"Watch me," Mary replied. "Three."
"Please she can barely move let alone talk."
"Two."
"She's innocent. Please!"
"One."
"Alright alright you win. I'll show you were the watch is. Just please...don't hurt her." The Master begged, her eyes wide and pleading.
Mary smiled. "See how easy that was, dearie." Her voice suddenly turned low and dangerous. "But if this is a trick or a distraction your sister will die. Now where is the fob watch?"
Before the Master could answer, a large bang was heard from the front door. Before Mary or the Master knew it several armed soldiers carrying machine guns had swarmed into the living room, their guns trained on Mary.
Becky immediately rushed to Terry's side, standing in front of her to shield her, her eyes darting between Mary and the soldiers.
"What the fuck?" Mary swore in astonishment before her eyes rested on Sam Owens marching towards her. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then Mary roared.
"YOU!" she bellowed. "YOU!"
And she lunged toward him, knife in her hand.
The soldiers immediately stepped forward, ready to fire but Mary instead raised her hand as blood began trickling down her nose.
The soldiers stopped as if frozen, the hairs on the backs of their necks standing up. Mary nonchalantly stepped past them and grabbing Owens's by the scuff of his lab coat shoved him up against the wall. "Well, talk about meeting old faces again. First I get Jim Hopper and now I get you, Doctor Owens." She held the knife up towards Owens's face, its blade almost glinting in her eyes.
"Except I learned from meeting you last time," Owens replied smugly much to Mary's annoyance and confusion. "When it comes to you Ten; always bring backup."
"Stupefy!" There was a blinding flash of red light, and Mary was thrown backwards onto the living room floor. Owens, still staring at the place where Mary's face had been, saw Kingsley Shacklebolt and two Aurors standing by the kitchen, Shacklebolt in front, his wand outstretched.
"What kept you?" Owens joked.
Shacklebolt shrugged and turned to the two Aurors that flanked him. "Stun the Muggle before he hurts himself or anyone else," he ordered.
The two Aurors obeyed and proceeded to stun Hopper with a simple stunning spell.
Owens turned to the captain of the soldiers that had accompanied him and ordered, "Take Mary into custody. Do not underestimate her. If at any point the spell wears off use extreme force to subdue her. Understand?"
The captain nodded and he and his men lifted the unconscious form of Mary and marched out of the Ives House.
"We will need to question her," Shacklebolt told Owens, who nodded absentmindedly. His force was on Becky, Terry and most importantly Jim. "We're taking Jim with us," He declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Approaching the still form of Jim, Owens stared into his unmoving eyes. "What the hell did she do to you, Jim?" He whispered.
He just hoped whatever Mary had done could be reversed.
Holy shit it's done! I have had this chapter in my head since the very beginning and to finally have it written down fills me with such pride.
So we finally see Jim and Mary's first meeting in Vietnam. Honestly that section was the hardest and took me the longest to write. You're also introduced to two new characters General Wilson and Doctor Sulu who will play massive roles in the flashbacks.
These Vietnam flashbacks will be ongoing throughout the story and will show more of what happened between Hopper and Mary and how and why Vietnam affected him in the way it has.
Hopper having a trigger phrase that essentially brainwashes him is based off the MCU's Winter Solider. Will Hopper be deprogrammed? Have to read next chapter to find out
The song "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy" is an anti-war song from the Vietnam war. I figured it would be interesting and different if an anti-war song was actually a trigger phrase.
So Mary knows about Becky/the Master and wants this fob watch... Hmmmm I wonder why?
Sam Owens to the rescue! And yes Owens has his own past with Mary that I will delve into next chapter.
Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Aurors showing up do have a purpose for showing up it's not just fan service trust me. There is a larger game at play here and next chapter will reveal parts of what has been going on.
Did you enjoy the fight scene between Jim and Mary? What do you think of the Vietnam flashback? Stay tuned for the next chapter when the Party finally come face to face with Mary! Truths will be revealed and secrets revealed!