Hawkins, Indiana. 8 Years ago.
Dr. Martin Brenner was a known scientist in the small town of Hawkins. His discoveries and awards alone made him stand out soon after founding the National Hawkins Laboratory, which was government classified. He always stood tall and confident, swallowing in all of his success, but what Hawkins didn't know was what he had under his mask.
His late wife, who had died in childbirth, bore only one child that wasn't even his own. Nevertheless, his love for his daughter had not reflected that. She was his only family, his pride and joy. He supported her in all of her passions, even as a small ten-year-old child who thought only of magical fantasies, books, and animals. She was a smart girl for her age, and recieved a great education at a prestigious elementary school.
Martin was always enthusiastic when it came to enlightening his child, as to how he had always read her a story before bed to her request.
"And the young maiden held her bloodshed lover in her arms as his wounds healed to her touch, bringing life to the man's grey eyes," Brenner read before closing the book.
"That's it?" Josephine asked as she loosened her embrace on her stuffed bear.
"No, but I think that that's enough for tonight. I don't even know why I'm reading you a Romance-Fantasy at your age," he chuckled as he straightened his greying brown hair. His daughter sighed and laid down on her pink covers.
"Will I ever have a lover or boyfriend like that?"
"Maybe, someday when you're old enough," Brenner said as he moved the chair from beside the bed back to her desk. "Although it would break my heart to see my daughter run into another man's arms." He laughs softly and turns off the lavish lamp beside her bed.
"Good night, daddy," she called to her father.
"Good night, sweetheart."
He closed the door softly and headed to his room when the phone downstairs began to ring. He hustled down the stairs to the hallway where the ringing telephone shook.
"Hello, this is Dr. Martin Brenner speaking," he said as he put the receiver to his face.
"Mart?"
It was Virginia Creel. Brenner's highschool sweetheart, who was now forcefully married to Victor Creel. She and Martin had always had a sweet tooth for each other, but they haven't seen each other ever since Brenner met his wife and had a child together. Of course, after his wife's death, he'd gone to Virginia to have a shoulder to cry on. He had been around even after Henry and Alice were born while Victor was off at war.
"Gin- Virginia. What a surprise, I haven't heard your voice in years," he said in a nonchalant tone, hiding the excitement he felt.
"Oh Mart, I've missed you," Virginia-- his Ginny-- sighed.
"How did you find my phone," he responded sharply.
"It was in the paper, it seems that you've gotten your fame. I always knew you'd be a success."
"What is it that you want, Virginia? Do you not have a husband and children to take care of?"
He knew he was being harsh, but he was one to hold grudges. Virginia had left him for a richer man who could support a family even without being home. On the other hand, Brenner had grown up less fortunate, only finding wealth after graduating from one of the most successful medical schools and starting to work with the government.
"I'm afraid that's why I've been trying to reach you, Mart. My son, Henry, do you remember him? He's only a couple years older than your daughter."
Brenner did in fact remember Henry Creel. He'd seen him when he was a mere infant, although he was different from the rest. He never cried, and he never laughed or cooed like a normal baby.
"...He's been acting strange recently-- stranger than usual. He's always been a weird child, I never really understood him. But now he's always in the attic, and ever since there has been demonic things going on in the house. Victor thinks it's haunted, but somehow I think Henry has something to do with this."
Brenner froze. Demonic?
"What?" he asked, his tone more curious and open to emotion.
"I know I sound crazy but every time something goes wrong, such as the radio randomly turning on or a lamp falling off a desk, I always see him looking distant and with a bloody nose. I think that he's been behind these horrible incidents," she shudders, spitting Henry's name out with such distaste.
Brenner knew she'd never been fond of Henry and favored Alice: the normal, sweet, innocent little girl. It was always the boy that stood on the furthest side in family photos; the one who received socks and clothes as birthday gifts while the other received dolls and toys.
"Nosebleeds? You think that maybe Henry could be the one causing these issues?"
He'd been studying the unordinary recently, opening the question of the existence of the supernatural. Of course, he doubted these hypotheses, but what if they were true? What if those years of research had an answer?
"Yes. And I know you've been observing these type of things recently, so I want you to at least take a look at him. I'll tell him that you're a normal psychologist, he won't suspect a thing."
--------------------------
Present day.
I woke up wanting to go back to sleep. I didn't want to leave the happy dream I was in. It was one of the first good dreams I've had in a while.
Peter and I were hand in hand, walking through a field of daffodils. They were bright yellow, reflecting the light of the golden sun. I felt free, for the first time in forever. Peter's hair was unkept but still perfect, and his skin glistened in the sunlight. His eyes were the clear, blue hue with the reflection of gold brightening his iris. He wore a white, loose shirt with suspenders and a jacket, like they did in the movies I've watched before the lab. It was like a fairy tale.
But of course, the sun had been replaced with white light, and the air was no longer warm. Everything had turned monochromatic, every shade of white to be seen. Nothing seemed golden anymore.
I rose from my position and peeled the covers off my body. I glanced at the alarm clock and realized I was ten minutes later than usual. Shit. At this rate, I was going to be late.
I quickly tossed off my gown and slipped on my uniform. The uniform Peter had given me still sat in my wardrobe, warded off separately from the others. I don't know why I kept it, I wasn't even going to wear it anytime soon. But something about it made me want to hold onto it forever.
I headed out the room in a hurry as I tied my hair back. I made a sharp turn and ran into something hard, making me fall backwards before a hand caught my waist.
I had opened my eyes expecting to find Peter standing over me, but instead there stood a tall, brown-haired man with sharp features (A/N: view cast list). His wavy locks sat perfectly resting on his head.
Clipboard guy.
His hands' firm grip on my waist softened when he pulled me up to standing position.
"And where are you off to in such a rush?"
His smile was endearing and friendly, which was strange since Peter was the only Orderly that actually knew how to smile.
"I'm so sorry for bumping into you, I'm running late and wasn't watching where I was going-"
"You're Dr. Brenner's daughter, correct?" He asks, cutting off my string of apologies.
"Yes... Yes I am. Josephine. Josephine Brenner," I stutter, holding my hand out. He takes it and shakes it firmly, like a businessman affirming negotiations.
"Pleasure. I'm Warren..." he paused. "Warren Seil. I transferred to this wing a couple days ago, so I might not be a familiar face to you," he chuckles.
"Well you should probably get going now, you're running late as you said," he jokes. I nod, wanting to get out of this uncomfortable conversation as soon as possible. Of course, he seems like a sweet person, but awkward dialogue in the hallway isn't really my thing.
He waved as I hurried off to the Rainbow Room to find the line of children just beginning to file inside. I sigh in relief and run inside behind the group, receiving stares from a few, especially my father. He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it, as if changing his mind. I glance around the room looking for a certain someone.
No Peter. Huh.
I straighten up when all the children have run along to their play stations. I smiled at Four, who seemed to be recovering pretty quickly. She returns the gesture and walks over to the red-puck station, where Eleven sat as usual.
As time passed, I glanced around the room still looking for him, but to my disappointment, there was only a blur of hospital gowns meeting my line of sight. Soon I was to bring all of the children one by one to individual training. First up was Two, who was in his usual state of cockiness. I led him down the hall to the training room, making quick strides to get it over with quickly.
"You seem in a rush. Excited to see your boyfriend already?" he snared, catching me off guard.
"I don't have a clue to what you're talking about, Two," I say, trying to maintain the monotonous tone all of the other Orderlies carried when communicating with the experiments.
"I've seen the way you look at him, woman, don't act stupid." He turned his head, facing me as I kept my stare forward.
"You seem quite the chatterbox today. I'll keep note of that, Two."
I shove him inside the room and stand next to the door, relieved to have gotten out of that conversation. Was I too obvious with Peter? What if Two relays this to my father? No, he wouldn't. He's too scared of "Papa", as all the other children were.
I saunter back to the rainbow room, passing the infirmary as I do. My eyes catch a glimpse of a familiar blonde blur inside, and I step backwards to meet the open metal doors to the "hospital room". There I see Peter, writing on a small notepad as a nurse talks to him, her fingers twirling her red curls. Her cheeks seemed as though they were pinched for blush, along with her lips. She sat leaning forward, placing her chest over her other arm, which sat on the table between the two.
"Anyways, it's quite nice of you to cover for Terry today, since he's out sick. You should really consider being a full-time nurse, you seem quite swell at it, Mr. Ballard," the nurse coos in a sing-songy voice.
"I believe I'd be far more useful in training the children, Amelia, not tending them," he smiles softly, keeping his focus on the small notepad.
"Honestly, I don't see how you manage to deal with all of the kids. I never really liked children."
"Well it really just grows on you, especially when you have no choice," he jokes. His smile was light and soft, and I saw Amelia's cheeks get even more red.
I let them continue their conversation as I head back to my destined area. It really shouldn't have bothered me, their exchange, but it did. They were just talking, since they were the only two in the room. But something about her perfect voluminous hair being placed perfectly between her fingers, or her shirt tightly hugging her chest, the top buttons being loose, or just her longing, lustful blue eyes peering at Peter set me off. It wasn't like me to be jealous, I had nothing to be jealous of.
For the next three hours, my duty was to escort the children one by one to the testing room, and escort them back. My father gave me side glances whenever I entered the room, pursing his lips as if he were deep in thought. He always did that when he was in that trance, even when I was younger. I used to make fun of him for it, when the creases of his forehead and eyebrows formed.
Finally lunch has arrived. I grab a sandwich from the lunchroom and hurry on down to my usual lunch spot, the storage room. Surprisingly Peter wasn't inside. He was never late before.
Ten minutes pass and the door finally opens as he slips inside. I stand impatiently in front of the door, catching him by surprise.
"You scared me-"
"You're late. You're never late," I whine. Normally I wouldn't complain, but the scene from earlier sat on my nerves.
"I'm sorry, love, the infirmary kept me behind," he gives me a sympathetic smile and brushes his hand against my cheek, easily chasing away my anger.
"Whatever, Mr. Ballard," I mock, rolling my eyes while trying to hide my smile. Surprise takes over his face before his lips form a smirk.
"Call me that again," he teases, tracing my jawline with the tips of his digits. I swallow, feeling uneasy at the rasp of his low voice.
"What, you like it when I call you that, Mr. Ballard?"
"You were spying again, weren't you," he chuckles. He then leads me to the clearing before I can speak, where we usually trained. I couldn't even form my words when he turned on the light, making my eyes sting.
"Today you'll need a lot more focus. So far I've made you move inanimate objects, but now I want you to be able to move a lot more than just a box of tissues," he says as he clears the floor, making sure that nothing stood in the way. He took a small white piece of chalk that children play with sometimes in games and drew a line close to the wall across from me.
He notices my confusion and stands straight.
"I want you to push me across that line," he explains. My brows furrow.
"What?" I heard him well enough. "No, what if I hurt you? I'm not even good enough yet, what if something goes wrong-"
"You can't hurt me more than I've already been hurt, Josephine."
Silence fills the room and I finally nod, taking a step back. He runs a hand through his hair and steps in front of the drawn, white line. The lights flicker and I strain my eyes, extending my left hand. I focus on his figure, not knowing where to look other than his blue eyes. He parts his feet for balance as he feels a small push. His voice rings clear in my head.
"Something that made him sad, but also angry. Do you, have a memory like that?"
I feel a surge in my chest and I think of all the things that angered me, but the face I saw most was Amelia. It felt wrong since she's never done anything to me, but it was what sat in my mind at the moment most. Her perfection that went along with Peter's.
A strong push rendered my hand and Peter fell back into the wall, making a large thud. I hear a gasp, but it was too soft to be Peter's.
"Peter, are you alright?" I rush over to him, who was crouched against the wall with his hand on his neck.
"I'm doing great," he grimaces through clenched teeth. He takes my hand and stands, dusting off his uniform. "You," he continues, "did great."
I can't help but smile, feeling butterflies everywhere. I would never get used to his charm.
"Do I get some sort of reward, then, Mr. Ballard?"
He chuckles softly, tucking strands of my hair behind my ear.
"Well since you asked so politely..." He leans in to meet my lips, planting a perfect imprint after a couple seconds. I expected more, which I displayed through my disappointed expression. He looks amused, smiling softly with satisfaction before heading out of the room.
I look back at the wall where there was a small dent, nearly the depth of a fist. I stand where Peter had laid, and I grazed my hand over the surface, my fingers lacing around the cracks and curves, amazed of my own creation. A few weeks ago I could barely move a box of tissues. And now, there were cracks in the wall. From what I had done.
My eyes trail down to the small puddle of blood on the floor from my nose. I wipe the remaining from my top lip, making sure that my white uniform wouldn't stain. Nausea ran through me like a cold, causing my stomach to turn. I felt uneasy and lightheaded, possibly from all the eyestrain the unusual blinding lights, since I was used to using my powers in the dark. The alarm signaling the end of lunch blares, cueing my leave.
As I approach the door, I can't help but feel a chill down the back of my neck, like I was being watched. I shut off the lights and walk out, shaking off the eery feeling creeping from the room.
------------------------
Hawkins, Indiana
Jim Hopper sat cross-legged on his chair, fitting a small cigarette between his teeth as he pulled out a lighter. The office was a mess; unfilled paperwork sat in messy piles near the lamp, which hadn't turned on in years. The carpeted floors were covered in used cigarettes which had failed to make it in the trash bin over the course of a week. After shoving his lighter back into his chest pocket, a quick rapping sounded on the door.
"Chief, there's someone who'd like to see you," called Florence from the other side. Her voice seemed urgent compared to the calm, monotonous voice she's always contained. The chief of police rolled his eyes and muttered a 'come in' seconds before the door swung open, sending stray papers flying off of the desk. There stood Murray Bauman, a usual visitor with all his theories.
"Jim, I think you want to hear this, this time," the crazed man huffed as he dropped a thick folder full of parchment and photographs in front of the chief, who sat crossing his arms. Bauman waved the smoky air from his face as he coughed, blinking his eyes from the atmosphere.
"What is it this time, Russian commies holding aliens hostage in some big cellar?" Hopper chirped sarcastically, holding an amused smile to his tongue.
"Jim, hear me out this one time. You know the government-protected National Laboratory here in Hawkins?" Bauman leaned over the desk, his hands gripping the edge.
"The one guarded with a shit-ton of stone-faces? Yeah, I know it," Jim muttered, speaking as if he were playing along with a child's fantasies.
"There has been missing children, Hop. And all of these missing leads trail back to here," Murray continues, pointing to a photo of Hawkins National Laboratory sitting on top of the folder. "So far, this 'Martin Brenner' has been leading these experiments in this lab. Experiments on children, Jim. You know what that means? Child endangerment and abuse."
He opens the folder to a picture of children lined up with their heads shaved, hugging the light-haired middle aged man in a suit in the middle. Bauman pulls out a newspaper, showing a missing child section in the middle, where a photo of a small, South Asian girl smiled back at the two men.
"See this kid? Doesn't she look identical to the one in the photograph? And look here-" he pulls out another newspaper, one from Illinois. "Same girl, this time about nine or ten years old. She was caught stealing money from various places. These reports are only from a week ago. This child must have escaped-"
"Woah there, Ray. You're pulling papers out your ass all the way from Illinois about some little shit stealin' candy and you mean to tell me that the government is doing shit to kids? Look," he points to the photo of the lined children with the man, "they probably are cancer patients or something with this old fart donating shit to them. And you can't say these girls are the same kid just because they're Indian."
"It's not because she's Indian, you can literally see the same facial features in all three photos. Here, how about this-" Bauman pulls out another photo from the folder, showing a young girl smiling happily in what seems to be a school picture. "This is Josephine Brenner, that scientist's daughter. This is the last photo of her on record, and she's like eight or nine. And then, boom, she's off the radar? Even the school says that her father pulled her out for no reason-"
By this moment the chief was already standing and Murray Bauman subconsciously stood with him while talking. Hopper made his way from the chair to the side of his desk, facing the bearded man in front of him.
"Alright, Baldo. The best case we'd get out of this is you stalking children and going to their schools," the chief interrupts. Bauman rolled his eyes as the chief guides him to the door, his hand firm on his back.
"Oh come on, Chief. Aren't you at least a little concerned-"
"Look, Ray. This is Hawkins. The most interesting thing that happens here is a missing dog or cat, so I wouldn't get your hopes up. I'll look at what you gave me, alright?"
And before Bauman could respond, the door had been shut in his face.
The chief of police strolled back to his chair, his chewed cigarette still sitting between his teeth. He sighs and looks at the files, doubtful but still slightly intrigued. His eyes danced around the photos, but one in particular stood out to him: Brenner's daughter.
"Child experiments, huh?"
---------------------------
That evening I was on duty to check the rooms, making sure everyone was in their designated rooms. I opened the window slot of the door that read "2". Sure enough, Two was laying on his bed with his back to the door, probably asleep. I moved on to the next rooms, where all of the children lay asleep. Through the small windows I could also see the majority of their rooms. Sometimes colored drawings were attached to the wall or small toys and trinkets sat beside their bed. Ten had a small rubix cube sitting next to his lamp, all sides already solved. Some of the higher numbers, the younger ones, had stuffed animals hugged tightly to their chest.
I smile at the sight, reminded of my childhood. I turn away from the hall and look through the halls one last time, and pass my father's office. Through the glass door I see the friendly orderly from earlier, Warren, standing solemnly in front of my father's desk. My father seemed to be instructing him something, or interrogating him. I walk closer in the shadows, making sure I wasn't seen. Although his office was soundproof, I could hear small snippets of his words.
"I'll ask.... one more time.... what... see?" were the words I would make out from my father's mouth. Suddenly he stood, and Warren flinched. "I told you.... look.... truth.... why..." pause. "Don't make... consequences...."
And, hesitantly, Warren began to speak, so quietly that I couldn't hear a thing. My father's eyes widened, and his shoulders lowered from their tensed position. When nothing more could be heard, I slipped away into the other hall. I walk back to my room, where Peter stood outside by the door.
"Peter, what are you doing here?"
"My shift in the infirmary just ended, so I decided to stop by. Besides, one of the nurses was following me around like a lost puppy, so this is the closest thing to fresh air that I can get," he said softly, leaning against the closed door.
"Well would you like to come inside?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I don't think 'Papa' would like that," he smiles. He glances up at the blinking camera, which was situated above us, facing the other side. My door was out of its view, thankfully.
He turns back to me, his eyes glistening. I stood closer, until my face was inches away from his. His eyes flickered down at my lips, and it felt as if we were moving closer and closer although none of us were consciously moving. I could feel his breath on mine when we were then interrupted.
"Hello?" a small voice squeaked behind me. I swiveled around to see 014 standing in the middle of the hallway, holding a stuffed lion in her arms. "I heard something and got lost," she mumbled, looking up at Peter as he walked slowly to the child.
"Would you like me to take you back to your room, Fourteen?" he said softly, kneeling down to her level. She looked no more than seven years old. She nodded, and Peter stood back up taking her hand. He turned his head to me and smiled sadly.
"Good night, Josephine."
He then led the girl back down the other hall in the direction of the children's rooms. I sighed and headed into my room, letting the door let out a soft click as it closed. I changed slowly into my sleeping gown. I remembered that back in Peter's room, he had a stack of white shirts with sweatpants instead of a gown, which looked much more comfortable. I get the image of Peter's room out of my head and wash my face before brushing my teeth.
Before heading to bed, I opened my wardrobe doors and stood back. With the swish of my hand, the doors made a thud as it closed and locked in place. I wiped the small bit of blood from my nose and laid on my bed satisfied and content.
---------------------------
Darkness.
Pitch-black walls surrounded me and the sound of rippling water beneath my feet was the only one present. It was the dream. The one I've had for years, yet now was the first one in months. I heard the same young screams behind me, the ones I always recognised. I froze still, just as I always did. I never found the courage to move in these dreams, as I was scared of what I might find. There was a feeling in the back of my head that told me not to move.
Yet now, I felt as if I should move. Slowly, I turned around. Grey mist fogged my view, and from afar I could see a small figure.
No. Don't walk towards it.
The same voice in the back of my head said.
He wouldn't want you to see.
But who was he?
I put my foot forward, making a small splash. The screams still echoed, yet there were no walls for the voice to bounce off of. A familiar chime repeated. Tick, tick-tick, tick, tick. One, two, one one. I put another foot forward, though it took more strength and will, as if my body was trying to reject these actions.
Another step.
Then another.
The figure through the fog appeared larger. Hints of white and blonde showed through the mist. My pace was slower, as a strong force pushed me back. I used more strength, advancing toward the figure.
I stopped when I was a mere few feet away from... him. The screaming was closer than ever, but it wasn't coming from the figure. At least, it didn't look like it. His back was turned from me, but I recognized him immediately. He stood with his hands clasped behind him, and his woven hair was still a gold hue even with this darkness. I tried to call out his name, but something stopped me.
I tried again, but the word refused to leave my mouth. Instead, the name I'd least expected left my throat.
"Henry?" I choked out.
His head snapped toward me, his eyes widened and staring into my soul.
No. People couldn't see me in the void. No one can.
But his piercing blue eyes stayed on me and I screamed, falling backwards into consciousness.
It was Peter.
----------------------------------
Peter's POV
"Peter?"
Peter turned his head back to the white-haired man sitting in front of him. He swallowed and relaxed his shoulders, raising his head back up.
Brenner had called him to his office, but what was strange was that it was nearly three in the morning. He had been greeted with guards at his door, shoving him to Brenner. There were two other Orderly that stood by the entrance of the office, armed with tasers as a precaution. They were two of the few that knew of Peter's abilities, therefore they feared him.
"Have a seat," Brenner offered.
"I'll be fine standing," Peter said sharply. This last minute meeting irked something in him. Something wasn't right. One of the new Orderly stood quietly in a corner behind Brenner, with a cloud of guilt in his eyes.
"I'm sure you're aware that the Soteria not only limits your... abilities... but also tracks you. I have access to your every move."
This could not be good, Peter thought. A part of him knew what this was about, another part refused to believe it.
"I've taken notice of your habital activity in the storage room at lunch. I thought nothing of it, of course, but now it's started to raise my suspicions. I've asked another worker to keep an eye on you yesterday, and I was informed of your... interaction with my daughter," he snared. Brenner retrieved small sheets from his desk and slid them across the desk for Peter to view. They were polaroids of the floor and wall of the storage room.
"So you've been 'training her'. You brought out the strength in her powers, which, I must admit, is pretty impressive on your duty as an Orderly. However, I find it disobedient of you to not consult me first. The last time my daughter had her physical powers, you used her to escape-"
"I did not use her," Peter spat. Anger had boiled down the fear inside him, taking over him entirely. "She was my friend, and I tried to help her get out of this hellhole you've created. You're imprisoning us, treating us less than human, all of us."
Brenner let out a slow breath, trying to maintain his composure. His lip twitched, as it always did out of irritation.
"Bottom line is, you disobeyed my orders. I told you to stay away from her-"
"And I did. But it seems that no matter what I do, your daughter always comes crawling back to me, because you were never there for her. Sooner or later she'll find out who I am, whether you like it or not. By then she'll be too old and smart for you to brainwash back into submission."
"And what makes you think that it'd work out for you in the end? Then she'll find out who Henry truly is. She'll know what you've done. Do you really think she'd still want you?" By then Brenner was already standing, level with Peter. Peter's face tensed, not daring to move a muscle.
Warren's eyes flitted nervously between the two. He was scared of both of them, and immediately regretted accepting Brenner's orders of spying on Peter. He hadn't told Brenner about the kiss his daughter and Peter had shared, which he was sure wasn't the least they'd done in the room. He thought back on the day he had first entered that particular storage closet. The day he'd heard moans and hadn't thought much of it. Could it had possibly... no, he was getting ahead of himself.
"Now that her power is coming back, I can't keep her as an Orderly. We'll have to make sure she knows to control these abilities. However, you've shown great promise with your training, despite your attitude. Since you're now powerless, I may even consider letting you train her."
"No," Peter spat.
"I'm sorry?"
"You will not lock her up like all of your other lab rats. I won't let her go through what you made me."
Brenner raised his eyebrows, not expecting this answer.
"And what will you do if I do? You have no other option here, Peter."
This, Peter knew. He couldn't fight back, not without his powers. It felt traitorous, to just let it happen.
"I want you to inject this into her," Brenner said as he pushed a small needle forward. "When her emotions are at their highest point, which is when her powers are most vulnerable. We use it to see where she is in her abilities, and it'll also put her to sleep."
Peter opened his mouth to object, but Brenner continued.
"Otherwise we'll have to use the hard way. You understand, don't you, Henry?"
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