Chapter Text
Nancy slammed her foot onto the gas as a scream - one that sounded an awful lot like her baby sister - pierced the air. Beside her, Will was sobbing hysterically. El cradled him, softly shushing him and stroking his hair, even though she appeared just as terrified.
“It’s okay, we’ll save them, Will. I’m going to save them,” El murmured, but her words only made him weep harder.
“N-no, it’s…it’s my fault. He’s…Mike, Mike…” Will trailed off into unintelligible babbling, but Nancy was almost certain she caught the word gone.
Her heart sank. If Vecna had truly come for her family, it was her fault. He’d warned her, and she hadn’t listened. She’d convinced herself they’d be fine, filling her head with delusions because she couldn’t handle another loss.
Suddenly, Will let out a shriek, squeezing his eyes shut. The car jerked violently as Nancy screeched to a halt in the driveway. She lunged out before the engine even died, gun in hand, sprinting for the door.
She saw Will clinging to El in her peripheral, trying desperately to hold her back as if afraid she’d be hurt the moment she stepped inside, but El gently tugged herself free with a whispered apology, rushing to Nancy’s side.
The front door suddenly burst open. Something crashed into Nancy full force, letting out a guttural shriek. Nancy instinctively gripped the small figure to push it away, her eyes wide.
El flinched, her hand shooting out to use her powers, but the person grasped onto Nancy’s wrist so tightly that it hurt. Nancy winced, her gun slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the pavement. She looked down and froze.
It was Holly.
Her sister's face covered with tears and snot, her chest heaving with gut wrenching, hiccuping sobs. Her wavy blonde hair, once tied up into neat pigtails, was now a tangled mess of crimson knots. The streaks of blood covering her made Nancy lurch back, her breath hitching.
Holly’s eyes darted frantically. “Nancy, there’s a m-monster! It got them, you gotta believe me! Please, you have to believe me!” she wailed, burying her face into Nancy’s chest.
Nancy shushed her, wrapping trembling arms around the small girl even as her gut twisted with dread. “Holly, Holly, I can’t understand you. You have to slow down, okay? Deep breaths,” she soothed, pulling back to cup the girl's face.
Holly leaned into the touch and gasped for air, desperate to speak. “The monster, it jumped through the ceiling,” she whispered, her lip quivering. “I-I…Mike, he tried to save me, he…” She choked on a fresh sob.
Without a word, El ran into the house, her eyes gleaming with anger. Nancy barely noticed Will sinking to the ground out of the corner of her eye, his hands clawing at his deathly pale face. He was shaking so hard a gust of wind would easily knock him over.
“Holly. Where’s Mike?” Nancy asked, her voice trembling. She already knew, but she couldn't accept it. Mike was a fighter. Mike was brave. He was that stupid dnd character, Mike the Brave, as he always used to tell her. He wouldn't go down without a—
“He’s gone.”
Nancy stiffened.
“The m-monster, it took him. He wasn’t moving, b-but he was still crying. I could see it. He was crying from w-when…when…” Holly seized Nancy’s hand, clutching it with all her might. “From when the monster…killed mom and dad.”
It was only then that the sickening scent of blood finally hit her.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Mike shot awake with a sharp gasp, tumbling off what felt to be a rough mattress beneath him. Just before he could hit the floor, a metallic clang echoed, the sound of a chain being snapped taut. Mike’s wrist creaked, handcuffs digging into the soft flesh, and he hissed in pain, glancing down at his arms.
His eyes widened in horror.
He was chained to a metal bedpost in what appeared to be a young girl’s room. His skin was raw and bloodied, as if he’d been struggling even in his unconscious state. “What the hell?” he whispered, his eyes darting around to scan the room.
It wasn’t familiar, not at all. He vaguely recalled Holly having a nightmare, their parents arguing. He’d gone in to comfort her, and then - “Ah!” he crumpled with a pained cry as an excruciating stab of pain vibrated throughout his skull.
Suddenly, the memories came flooding back.
He heard someone shriek his name as his head slammed against the cabinet. A cold, slimy claw with razor like nails seized his ankle, yanking him away from his sister as he weakly attempted to crawl to her. He was ruthlessly yanked by his arm, the monster hauling his barely conscious figure through the…
Oh, shit.
Where the fuck was he? This was not the Upside Down, but it wasn’t the Rightside Up, he was sure of it. The vibes of the place were…eerie, almost fake. He felt like he was floating, like he was in a dream. Or…a trance. But that…that wasn’t possible, right?
He jerked his hands toward his chest, the rattle of the metal chains drowning out his grunts of pain. He remembers being hit on the back of the head, so shouldn’t there be proof of an injury there?
He twisted his left wrist at an uncomfortable angle, angling his face forward so he could dig through the expanse of his curls to find the gash, but his fingers came away completely dry.
The pain was unfortunately there - a sharp ache that felt like his skull was about to split open - but the gushing wound was completely absent. No blood at all.
A roar, followed by a wet squelch. Ted’s body flew through the air, crashing through Mike’s closet. His guts spilled out of his stomach, painting the walls red. Holly’s let out a piercing scream as she clung to him, so tight she ripped his shirt at the seams. Mike dashed through the halls, pleading with his mother to believe him, to run, telling her dad was already dead.
Karen’s eyes widened as she bravely faced the monster head on. “Stay the fuck away from my kids.” She’d swung like a warrior, but she was just a mother, a mother who loved her children more than life itself, a mother who’d give her life for them. And give her life for them she did, Holly’s hair now splattered with red.
As she faded, embracing death’s cold embrace, she’d heard the sound of her son bursting into tears for the first time in years, his face covered in gore, his sister latching onto him like a magnet to a fridge.
He was next, the demogorgan prowling towards him, but he didn’t fight - the natural instinct all Wheelers seemed to have. No, instead, he froze. He allowed himself to he thrown like a ragdoll. But when his sister was tossed across the room, that snapped him out of it.
It was his last fight, the desperation of a Paladin trying to protect the young Cleric since he couldn’t protect his Cleric. He’d failed again and again, and he failed yet again this moment as his vision went dark, a claw locking around his upper arm. Holly’s
screams of his names went unheard.
“No,” Mike choked out, breath picking up, his lower lip beginning to quiver. “No!” he shrieked. He clamped his cuffed hands over his ears. His mom and dad were dead, gone, never coming back, all because of him.
All because he was too stupid to tell them the truth, too naive to believe Vecna would spare his family. Karen had told him once that he could always talk to her. He could’ve saved her. Now she was just another corpse, another missing person who died from a “chemical leak”.
“Holly…” he whispered. Was she even alive? Had he killed his eight year old sister, too?
That thought was the final straw.
Mike broke down, uncontrollable sobs ripping from his already scratchy throat. He began to hyperventilate, choking on the air like his parents had choked on their blood. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t even care. It doesn’t matter.
If his family wasn’t allowed to breathe, why should he be allowed the privilege? Why does he, the most useless, selfish, disgusting person in his family get to live and they don’t? Hell, he was certain even Ted deserved life more than him.
He was a disease, a pest. He was a jinx to everyone he loved. He killed them, all of them, and he’d continue to do so. He might as well just end the cycle, to protect them - what was left of them, anyway.
With his mind made up, Mike lurched forward and slammed his forehead against the metal cuffs. Slam, slam, slam. His nose snapped, but he kept going. Slam, slam, slam. Blood poured down his face, getting in his eyes, soaking the front of his shirt. Slam, slam, slam. He was gagging, shaking, vision blurry. He fell to his side, but he didn’t stop.
Slam, slam, slam. Except this time, it wasn’t just him. It was the sound of footsteps. Angry footsteps, pounding as they approached.
Then the door was thrown open, leaving it dangling off its hinges. A tall, slender man stepped through the door. He threw his hand back, and the door slammed shut, caused by a seemingly invisible force. Superpowers. Mike froze, staring with wide eyes.
The man wore a brown suit, brown fedora crookedly resting over his blonde hair, which was slicked back into a neat hairstyle that deeply contrasted his startlingly bright, furious blue eyes.
That anger in the man’s eyes was likely dulled because of the glasses that he wore, and that made him even more terrifying, even more dangerous. He wasn’t simply angry at Mike, he hated him. He seems to have a deep, personal hatred towards Mike, and there was no way to fight back against him.
The man lunged, seizing Mike’s wrists. He recoiled with a cry, attempting to pull away. The man was so scary. He felt like a little kid again, helpless and weak in a monster’s grasp.
“Get off!” He screamed, kicking and thrashing with all his might. He was easily subdued, pinned down by the man’s overpowering weight. As Mike's strength failed him, the man smiled. A frighteningly familiar smile that Mike couldn’t place.
He tutted softly. “Trying to escape so soon, are we?” he asks the question calmly, but Mike can tell his demeanor remains angry.
“Let go of me, you psychopath! Fucking piece of shit!” Mike yells, resuming his fight. He writhes and kicks until his muscles give out, vision clouded with the dark red, which is still leaking from the deep wound on his forehead. The man sighed. He jerked his head to the side, a motion exactly like El’s.
Mike flinched, expecting his neck to snap, but instead, the throbbing in his head vanished. He froze, stunned into silence as the skin on his forehead knit itself back together, the blood disappearing.
“W-wha…how…” He croaked, mouth opening and closing like a fish. He glances over at the man warily, but the other simply grins. “Oh, Michael, don’t act so surprised.” he begins. “This is my mind, after all. I can do whatever I want in here.”
Mike’s heart begins pounding faster against his ribcage, his stomach dropping as the puzzle pieces begin to connect. He has an awful, terrible feeling that he knows exactly who this is. “Your mind? You…You’re Vecna, aren’t you?”
The monster chuckles, reaching out to pinch Mike’s cheek with a fondness that made him want to vomit. “You always have been the smart one. Yes, I am who you and your little friends call ‘Vecna,’ although I do prefer Henry.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed into a glare as he scowls, lip curling upwards. This was the thing that had tormented Will all these years, the monster that had killed Eddie and sent Max into a coma she wasn’t likely to wake up from (as much as he hated to admit it).
“What the hell do you want from me?” Mike spat, his voice shaking with rage. “Why’d you hurt my parents? Why my sister?”
Henry shakes his head, a long, drawn out sigh escaping him. “Ah, Michael. I did not wish to harm your family, truly. They were simply obstacles I had to clear during my path to get to you.” he explains, lips pouted in faux guilt.
Mike drew a shaky breath, his muscles aching as he tried once more to wrench his wrists from the man’s grip. Henry didn’t budge. “Why?” he rasps, grimacing at how hoarse his voice is.
“I need you. You have become an essential part of my plan, Michael. You are the final piece of the puzzle, the key I require to finally overpower humanity, to dominate them.”
“Your pathetic need to protect William and Eleven is the very thing I will use to drag them to their graves. Not only will I force you to witness my victory, you will be the one to help me achieve it. The reason for it.”
“No,” Mike choked out. “You’re lying. I would never help you. I would never.” His fists were white from how hard he was clenching them, straining against Henry. “I would rather die.” he spat, “I would die before ever giving them up to a fucking monster like you.”
Henry snorted and leaned closer, crowding Mike’s space until he had him backed against the chilling bars of the headboard. "It is rather cute," he murmured, his shadow looming over the boy. "How you believe you have a choice. I am in charge, and that means you will do exactly what I—"
Crack.
Both their heads snapped toward the window just as a blur of something - or someone vanished from sight. Mike paused, because…they were alone here. It was Henry’s mind, right? So why did the man seem almost…nervous?
As quickly as the emotion flashed across his face, he smoothed his expression back over, taking a measured breath and turning back to Mike. With a sharp tilt of his head, the cuffs unlatched, hitting the sheets with a clink.
Mike hissed, snatching his raw wrists back to his chest. To his shock, Henry actually let him, releasing his grip entirely. The man glanced at the window one more time, clearing his throat before continuing. “As I was saying. You are going to—“
He never finished that sentence.
Mike reared his leg back, slamming the heel of his converse into the center of bastard’s face with every ounce of strength he had left. He earns a satisfyingly loud crunch for his efforts.
Henry let out a roar of pain, his fedora flying off as he toppled backward off the bed. Mike was free. He didn't hesitate, didn’t wait for the man to regain his bearings and stand up.
Instead, he scrambled off the bed, long legs tangling as he hit the floor. As quickly as he was down, he bounced back up and bolted for the door. His fingers fumbled with the knob for a moment as he cast frantic looks over his shoulder.
An embarrassing whine escaped him when he saw Henry climbing back to his feet, face angrier than ever. “Fucking open!” Mike yelled, throwing his entire weight against the wood.
The door finally splintered, giving way as he burst through the other side and tumbled into the hallway. He scrambled up immediately, gasping for air as he sprinted toward the spiral staircase.
He barely hit the first step before something slammed into him, causing his knees to buckle almost instantly. It launched him forward, sending his body careening down the stairs, bones jarring with every crash.
Just as he reached the final few steps, the force seized him again. It yanked him into the air, suspended him for just a heartbeat, and then drove him into the floor. His arm twisted awkwardly beneath him.
The sickening snap echoed, followed by his blood curdling scream as agony flared throughout his entire right side.
He laid there for a moment, choking on sobs as tears streamed down his cheeks. It fucking hurt. It was an agony that made his vision swim, bile trying to climb its way up his throat. “Michael…” Henry’s voice was a sing song drawl as he rounded the staircase, peering down at him with blood still trailing from his shattered nose.
Fuck no, Mike thought.
Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him upright as he launched himself toward the front door. He lunged out, throwing himself down the porch steps and hitting the gravel driveway, swiftly propelling himself into a sprint. He finally tore through the forest line, lungs burning.
For future reference, he noted through his panic, I am not a runner.
He weaved through the trees, vaulting over fallen logs and obstacles Henry hurled his way. Without warning, a branch abruptly snapped off a tree, catching Mike right in the face. The world tilted, and he was flung to the ground.
A choked scream tore through the forest as he landed directly on his bad arm. He heard the bone crack further, a sound that made his stomach turn, forcing him to swallow even more vomit.
“Stop fighting it, Michael. It only hurts more when you resist,” Henry called, his voice sounding a hell of a lot closer than before.
Mike crawled forward on his hands and knees, dragging his injured body forward until he could throw himself behind the trunk of a massive tree. He buried his face in his knees, sobs and hiccups spilling past his lips before he could stifle them. He just wanted to go home.
He wanted Nancy. He wanted Holly, if she was even alive. He wanted Will. God, he wanted Will so badly it felt as if he was about to get another fracture, except this one would be in his heart. He wanted to apologize for how much of a dick he was. No, he needed to apologize for being such a dick. He needed to tell Will why was so fucked up, to tell him that he—
“Psst, Wheeler!”
Mike flinched, breath catching in his throat. His eyes darted toward a dark cave opening just a few feet ahead. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed it was there before.
“Get in here, idiot! Don’t just give up!” a girl’s frantic voice hissed in a loud whisper. It almost sounded like…but it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Maybe he was finally going crazy, with or without Will by his side.
“I can see you, Michael…”
“Hurry up, you fucking dumbass!” With a cry of discomfort, Mike forced himself up. His muscles screamed as he stumbled into the cave. The moment he crossed through the entrance, a hand clamped around his left arm and yanked him into the shadows.
With a yelp, he tripped over his feet, falling to the ground right in front of the person. He began scrambling back fearfully, most likely looking completely idiotic in the process. They suddenky snorted, amused. Mike clenched his jaw. Henry thought it was funny when Mike tried to struggle. This person seemed to think the same.
They pretended to help him, but really, they were tricking him, he knew it. They must be in disguise, or something of the sort.
The moment his back hit the stone wall, crusted with old dirt, Mike stopped fighting. He just shut his eyes, completely resigned to whatever came next. But then the figure crouched in front of him, a small smirk tugging at their lips.
Blue eyes, often bright with that signature mischief or defiance, locked onto his misty ones. Her orange hair was a total disaster, a rat's nest where the remains of a braid barely held on.
“Max?”
“Hey there, Wheeler.”