PROTECTORS ↠ SETH CLEARWATER [R.U]

1| EVOLVE

In the back of the dark, wooden tackle shack, huddled up in the densely packed storage room—that had a sign on the front of the door that read 'employees only' in a large, black sticker, which had a red-striped band at the top and white writing, that was also peeling in the corners, revealing the different shade of wood underneath—Sullivan looked up at the flickering light above her head. The desultory pattern of the low, buzzing hum from the electrical wiring filled the room eerily, it was the same noise that came from the 'Hawkins National Laboratory' basement during the first scene of the show Stranger Things. The light swung lazily, barely noticeable, but, of course, Sullivan had her eyes trained on it, with a blank expression on her face, making it easily notable. The long hours of the night shifts began to take their toll on her, especially as of late when she got up early in the morning before her father, to make them both breakfast before she left for school and he left for work. It was most likely a rainstorm that caused the electrical problem, it was either that, or Harley's generator was going bust again. Whatever the reason, Sullivan was beginning to lose her mind.

Too engrossed in the poor circuitry of the light, Sullivan didn't notice that the door to the storage room had swung open and revealed Harley, the burly man who owned the tackle shop and who also happened to be Sullivan's godfather. He stood with an equally tired expression, catching a glimpse of the young girl staring at the light with a dull and sunken look. She had been holding a small, clear, plastic container with a slightly dented lid, filled with fishing bait worms that wiggled and slushed about over each other in a tangled heap. Harley sighed to himself and stepped in, gently placing his left hand on her right shoulder and his right hand over the grub box. Sullivan blinked and cast her gaze over to him, giving him a tired look. He removed the grub box from her hands and placed it on the shelf in front of her, sliding it towards the gap between the other grub boxes with different live baits. Harley was an old soul, and never rose his voice to anyone, not like before at least. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them.

"Go home, Sully. It's late," he stressed, "and you have school tomorrow. I don't want to be the reason why you fall asleep in the middle of class, landing yourself in another week's worth of detention," he told her in a soft, but deep-toned, voice. Even with his dark, bushy beard, that seemed to have grown longer since the last time she saw him, which was when she arrived for the night shift, and with the folded collar of his dark red and black plaid button-up shirt, Sullivan could see the fading remnants of an old tattoo that he wore along the right side of his neck. It was larger than the palm of her hand, possibly even his, and even for a burly man, he had hands the size of bear paws. If you were to ask her what she thought the tattoo was of, or even Harley himself for that matter, you wouldn't receive an honest or sure answer. It was one of those things he didn't talk about much or seem to even want to think about. The heavy-set bags and wrinkles surrounding his eyes conveyed just how exhausted he truly was. His past was behind him, but there are some things you just can't run away from.

"I'm fine, it's only seven—"

"It's almost ten, Sul," Harley interrupted her, shaking his head, causing his slightly greasy hair, that fell into his eyes, to swish. He has been running his hands through it too much, Sullivan thought to herself, something must have happened.

"Right," she responded, nodding her head faintly.

Harley gave her an unsure look, knowing that she was hiding something. "Everything...  okay at home, Bub?" He asked in that stereotypical voice you'd hear people in the movies use when they spoke to a child.

"Everything is fine," she answered shortly.

"If not, you can take my room and I'll sleep on the sofa. I can check in on your old man in the morning, you know."