UPSIDE DOWN: A STRANGER THINGS STORY

INTRO

A worn hand poured whisky into a glass to top off an old fashioned. He slid it over about a foot to give it to the fisherman at the bar who took it and raised his glass as a thank you.

The bartender, a rugged and pale, dark haired man with very thin facial hair, in his early forties, only returned with the smallest hint of a smirk before finishing up cleaning the glasses. Some were scratched a bit, but out here in the middle of rural Canada, no one would care.

"Hey, Harvey," another resident of the small town said to the fisherman from further down at the bar. "They bitin' a lot today?"

"Actually yeah," he answered, wiping the alcohol from his white beard. "I got a boat load. It was Biblical," he added with a chuckle.

He returned the subtle laughter.

The man behind the bar listened to their conversation as he finished his work, thinking about going home soon. It was late.

But as he thought about this, the door opened, bringing with it the chilled breeze of the bitter cold air outside before it shut again, the stranger's dirty boots knocking dry chunks of mud into the old floors. He looked around as if he'd never been there before and the others knew he hadn't. They'd never seen him before and because of that, the man behind the bar kept his head down and minded his business, not caring for people passing through...

(track: "RETRIEVING THE CASE" by Ludwig Göransson)

He walked up to the bar, studying everyone in the room intensely. But when he sat down carefully on the stool, he asked for a light beer.

The barkeep grabbed a bottle and opened it before setting it down on the damaged wooden counter.

"Haven't seen you here before," the fisherman said to him.

"Just passing through," he answered vaguely. "Hey do any of you know of a James O'Connor?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

The bartender looked up from his cloth and at the bottles in front of him, his back turned from them.

The two others there in the room exchanged a glance before the newcomer caught the fisherman looking at the back of the bartender's head before his eyes met the stranger. "Uh no. I don't, actually. Why?"

"Just curious," he replied before leaving some money after deciding to go. He got up without taking his beer and went out the door.

The fisherman and the other man looked at each other again before shrugging it off. But the barkeep's eyes traveled to the beer sitting on the counter...

Before leaving for the night, the bartender pulled out a handgun from under the counter and loaded it. He locked up after he pulled on a coat to cover his tall muscular frame and shut the windowed door. The night was dark, clouds blocking his view of the Northern Lights. His breath made puffs of white emit from his lips as he watched the horizon, looking out over the cold waters of Great Bear Lake surrounded by trees and houses on the water's edge... as he was contemplating how to handle this.

He would have to move again. And as much as his son hated living in the middle of nowhere, he hated relocating even more.

Keeping his hand in his pocket, he began to walk home, only one small street light from the bar to light his way through the damp grass.

As he walked down the road less traveled, he felt eyes on him, knowing he was in the perfect place to be a target, as everyone was in bed or lived too far to hear or see anything. He stopped, knowing there was someone behind him. "Let's get this over with," he spoke into the air.

"We just want to talk," the stranger replied.

He turned his head and faced him, the ruffian looking a bit down on his luck lately. There was hatred in his face that he tried to hide, but O'Connor knew better. "I don't do that work anymore, if that's what you want."

"No but you did, didn't you?" he asked. "I know you don't work for anyone. They hired you to expose us independently without fingerprints... almost uncatchable."

"Don't pretend you were on the moral high ground. If you're from Bard's Manufacturing... you know exactly what you got caught for," he replied, stone faced and unforgiving.

"So what? You some sort of angel yourself?" he began to sound more angry the longer they spoke.

James looked around, noticing more men begin to appear from around the corners of various buildings, armed.

"I'm telling you they won't see it coming," a clumsy teen girl said with a giggle as she and her friend ran through the woods and towards another friend's house, their appearance and mannerisms suggesting they were drunk. She held a bag of toilet paper as her friend taped their surroundings with a video camera.

"This is so stupid," her friend replied, trying to stop laughing herself as they stumbled over the grass and saw the lights of town ahead.

"We'll make this quick. I don't have all night—" the stranger said, getting cut off when O'Connor pulled out his gun with wicked speed and shot a bullet right through his face, his body falling back onto the ground forcefully as James shot the man to his right, through the chest and ducked back before the others' bullets could pierce him, running alongside an abandoned warehouse to where he knew the other killer would meet him. He shot ahead just as one came around the corner like he predicted, his shoulder being yanked back as blood splattered from the gun wound and he fell down.

James kicked the door of the warehouse down before the other two could catch him on the other side. He aimed ahead of him at the broken window, seeing a running figure with a gun on the other side of the glass. Firing, he shattered the window but missed his target by a hair.

He quickly ducked behind a beam before being shot at in return, listening for the steps that ran his way and hearing where they were, he shot ahead of him, the bullet whizzing through the air and disappearing just meters ahead as it reappeared right behind the killer and shot through his lower back, making him groan with pain and fall forward.

James moved quickly when he spotted the last of the murderous gang. Charging ahead, he readied himself at exactly the right moment. As his feet hit the ground, he concentrated, his body disappearing just before it hit the wall and reappearing, as if it was coming from an invisible portal, on the other side. He landed in time to kick the gunman down and aim, firing a shot through his skull when he was on the ground.

The two girls were stunned on the spot and the friend lowered the camera with a look of pure shock on her face that matched the other girl's at what they just witnessed, taping that last bit from the treeline.

But James O'Connor hardly noticed them before he disappeared into the night, leaving his attackers behind... again.