Chapter Text
“Something is coming. Something hungry for blood.” Mike leans over the table with a theatrical grin. “A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness. It’s almost here.”
“What is it?” Will says, a look of anticipation on his face.
“What if it's the Demogorgon?” Dustin exclaims, “Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon.”
“It's not the Demogorgon,” Lucas says.
“An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!” Mike slams one of his figurines down on the table. He looks over at his friends, seeing their relieved expressions.
“Troglodytes?”
Lucas looks at Dustin. “Told you.”
Mike looks around the room, trying to make his expression look nervous. “Wait a minute. Did you hear that? That... that sound? Boom... boom... Boom!” He slams his hands down on the table as hard as he can and watches as the others jump. “That didn't come from the troglodytes, no, that... That came from something else. The Demogorgon!” He puts another figure on the table with as much force as he can.
“We're in deep shit,” Dustin murmurs nervously.
“Will, your action!” Mike shouts.
He looks around nervously. “I don’t know!”
“Fireball him,” Lucas urges.
“I’d have to roll a thirteen or higher,” Will cries.
“Too risky, cast a protection spell!” Dustin yells.
“Don’t be a pussy,” Lucas says, “Fireball him!”
“Cast protection!”
“The Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering! It stomps towards you. Boom!” Mike says.
“Fireball him, Will!”
“Another stomp. Boom!”
“Cast protection!”
“He roars in anger!”
“Fireball,” Will shouts, and throws his die. It falls off the table, and Mike joins the others as they scramble to find it.
“Oh, shit,” Will mutters.
“Where’d it go? Where is it?”
“I don’t know!”
“Where is it?”
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Dustin repeats.
Distantly, he hears his mother shout his name.
“Can you find it yet?” Lucas asks.
“No, I can’t find it!” Will shouts, exasperated.
“Mike!” His mother yells again. She pushes the door open.
“Mom,” he says, “we’re in the middle of a campaign!”
She puts her hands on her hips. “You mean the end?” She raises her eyebrows. “It’s fifteen after,” she says, and turns to walk back upstairs.
“Oh my God,” Lucas whines, “Freaking idiot.”
“Why do we have to go?” Will asks.
“Mom, wait. Just twenty more minutes?” Mike begs.
“It’s a school night, Michael,” she sighs. “I’ve just put Holly to bed. You can finish next weekend, okay?”
“But that’ll ruin the flow!”
“Michael. I’m serious.”
“Mom, the campaign took two weeks to plan! How was I supposed to know it’d take ten hours?”
“You’ve been playing for ten hours?”
“Dad, don’t you think—”
His father cuts him off. “I think you should listen to your mother,” he says, before turning back to the tv.
Mike sighs and turns to his Mom. “Can I at least bike over with Will? Please?”
Karen sighs and gives him a small smile. “Okay. But don’t stay long, you got it, Mike?”
“Okay,” he says, a smile growing on his face. He runs over to put on his shoes and jacket. “Thanks Mom!”
He runs outside where he sees Will and Lucas starting to get on their bikes, and walks right over. Dustin follows behind him.
“Your sister’s a real jerk, you know that, right?” he says.
Mike snorts. “She’s always been one. I don’t know where you’ve been.”
“No, no,” Dustin says as he climbs on his bike. “She used to be cool. Remember when she dressed up as an elf for our Elder Tree campaign?”
“That was four years ago!” Mike laughs.
Dustin and Lucas wave at him as they bike off. Will and him start to get on their bikes.
“It was a seven,” Will says quietly.
“What?” Mike asks, hefting himself onto his bike.
“Me and Lucas found the die. It was a seven. The Demogorgon got me.”
“I didn’t see it. It doesn’t count, yeah? You can roll again when we finish.”
The two of them took off towards the Byers’ house, not noticing the lights flickering along the street.
Mike hummed quietly to himself as he biked back home. Ms. Byers wasn’t home, and neither was Jonathan, so he might have stayed with Will for a little bit longer than his Mom wanted him too. Oh well—he could probably sneak past her on the way to his room. Maybe he could try climbing through the window. People did that in movies, right?
Mike was pulled out of his thoughts as his bike ran over a large rock, throwing him off. He hit the ground with a groan. “Dammit,” he muttered, wiping the gravel from his knees and palms. “ Shit ,” he hissed, feeling the sting of his now skinned palms and, through the dim streetlamps, seeing the new tears in his jeans. Jeans that Mom had bought only a week ago. She was going to be pissed. He glanced at his watch—only to wince when it read 9:13. Forget sneaking in, Mom was going to kill him. He stood up slowly and picked up his bike. He’d just have to walk it home.
It was then that he noticed the faint rustling from the woods grow louder. He looked over, and in the low and flickering light on the street, made out a large, humanoid figure in the woods. And, to his horror, walking right towards him. Mike scrambled backwards. His bike fell to the ground, but he didn’t particularly care—that thing was getting closer. And it was definitely a thing. Its arms were far too long, and its fingers looked like giant, sharp claws, and it looked terribly emancipated. The head was misshapen and looked as though someone had sliced through thick flesh on its face.
Tears ran down his face and his breath came out in shallow bursts. The monster stepped out into the light, and Mike whimpered as he backed up against a tree. The thing let out an unearthly shriek, its face opening up into a demented parody of a flower, and Mike screamed. He tried to back up more—but he was cornered. He slipped on something wet on the ground. A horrible feeling, cold and wet and so very disorienting, washed over him; and everything went black.