𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑| Max Mayfield [COMPLETED UNTIL SEASON FIVE]

xxviii. the monster and the superheros

—

Cassidy and Theodore stood beside Mike and Will, observing as El unleashed a tantrum, or so Cassidy would label it. "What is your name?" the paramedic inquired of Angela. "Um, Angela," she replied, her voice cracking under the tense circumstances.

"Angela. Do you know where you are, Angela?"

"Um, Rink.. Rink-O-Mania, I think?"

"Rink-O-Mania. Very good."

Cassidy's gaze shifted towards Eleven, caught in the grip of tearful frustration. She nudged Theodore, who still bore traces of dried tears on his face. "What?" he quipped. Cassidy pointed at El, inquiring, "Have you seen her this angry before?" There was a subtle tension, a shared concern about the depth of Eleven's emotions in this particular moment.

"I... I think so. It's a blurry memory, but I think one time in, y'know..." Theodore murmured, his recollection hazy. Cassidy nodded in understanding. Hesitant but concerned, she walked over and sat with El. "El, you need to calm down. I'm worried you're gonna lash out again. I'm mad at you, I'm sorry for yelling, but you could've handled it in a different way," she expressed gently, navigating the delicate balance of emotions.

El remained fixated on Angela, ignoring Cassidy's attempts. Sighing sadly, Cassidy exchanged a glance with Theodore, who simply shrugged in acknowledgment of the challenging situation.

—

Johnathan and Arygle found the teenagers, both noticeably high on weed. "I know this may be, like, upsetting and shit, but that future prom queen is gonna be fine. I mean, it's just like rubber wheels," Arygle rambled, offering an unusual perspective to the miserable teens in the back.

El's gaze fixed on the passing scenery, tears forming. Mike drifted into a zone, while Will sought solace leaning on Theodore's shoulder, who gazed out the other window with mirrored tears – that peculiar twin connection. Meanwhile, Cassidy simmered with anger. Her frustration wasn't solely aimed at Eleven; Angela bore the brunt of it. Emotions intensified within the confines of the car, each occupant wrestling with their own feelings amidst the tense journey.

"Plastic." Jonathan corrected him. "Ohhhh!"

"Not like hard plastic. Just... Just the soft kind," Jonathan explained, while Arygle nodded in agreement, his expression softening. "Totally," he affirmed, sharing a moment of understanding.

"Are you guys fucking high right now?" Cassidy exclaimed in disbelief, catching Arygle's attention. "But you ever wonder why the wheels aren't wood, dudette?" Arygle pondered, leaving Cassidy with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm sorry, what—? Oh my god!" she groaned, running a hand down her face. Arygle turned back to Jonathan. "Or metal? So people don't get hurt when they get shmacked." The conversation took an unexpected turn.

"Shmacked—?" Cassidy muttered under her breath. "Because it happens more than you think, man," Arygle explained, pausing before turning back to the teens. "Roller-skate attacks."

"Man, hey, at least it wasn't an ice skate," Jonathan pointed out, prompting laughter from Arygle. "That nose would've been sliced clean off, man!" Arygle exclaimed, leaving Jonathan to squeal in reaction.

Cassidy scoffed. "I'm never driving with you guys again when you're fucking high," she quipped, earning a sad sigh from Will. "You get used to it," he murmured, but Cassidy's lips curled into a frown, clearly unimpressed with the idea of getting used to such high antics.

The car ride became a distant hum for Cassidy as she retreated into her thoughts. Upon arriving at the house, the unfamiliar strains of Russian music infiltrated her senses, triggering a visceral reaction. Eyes tightly shut, she felt an internal combustion, a metaphorical walking fire in response to the perceived threat. Bracing for a Russian encounter, they turned a corner only to discover Murray, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to the tense anticipation.