Chapter Text
July 4th, 1985
Oscillating at shrill, high frequencies, all sound caused a painful ringing to populate Max’s skull. Opening her eyes was a chore, and her body was so lethargic it could barely register the extreme pain she felt. Eyelids flickering as she tried to look around, the strobing effects of flashing, neon lighting caused the pounding in her head to worsen, sparks flashing occasionally as wiring came loose, letting off crackles from places of fault.
Resting so she had a half-lidded, skewed view of the limited area around her, Max instead tried to remember what was going on. Part of her knew that reciting basic facts about herself would help determine whether or not she had a concussion or amnesia, so that’s what she latched on to whilst the world was just too loud.
My name is Maxine Mayfield. But I prefer Max. And I use MadMax for arcade scoreboards. I live in Hawkins Indiana, but I came from California. I love my mom, I miss my dad. Neil is my stepdad and he scares me. Billy is my shitty step brother, and I hate that I can’t fully hate him. He’s really mean to Lucas, the idiot nerd I fell in love with. Our friends are known as The Party, and we’ve seen plenty of supernatural shit.
Today is the Fourth of July, and said Supernatural Shit has been haunting us again this summer for days now. Billy is… flayed? He’s not himself. The stupid freak creature thing that hurt Will is in control of Billy now. And it’s after El, my friend who happens to have super powers. It wants to hurt her and I can’t let that happen-
“El-” Voice cracked as the current events started flooding into her mind, Max realised she had no idea where her fellow female teen had gotten to. They had been running from Billy, and Max had tried to give a desperate plea to his old, original self to break free of the Mind Flayer - A feeble attempt to remind him of who he really was that failed spectacularly. I hope Mike was able to get her out of here.
Eyes widening as she remembered she hadn’t been alone in trying to protect El from harm, Max found the strength to lift herself up just enough to turn her head, looking further down the hall. One eye was throbbing with pain as it adjusted to an influx of light, previously being shaded by her loosened red hair. As her eyes finally adjusted, Max’s breath caught in her throat. Whilst El was nowhere to be seen (Or Billy, for that matter), Mike’s crumpled form lay nearby. She wasn’t alone, but this news was as much of a curse as it was a blessing.
Gasping with many short, pitiful breaths as she tried not to panic, Max could barely feel her limbs as she tried to reach out to Mike’s still form. It was impossible for her to tell if he was breathing, let alone if he was alive from where she lay, strewn across the ground as her limbs tried to merge with the floor. Panting and just staring at his gangly arms, Max realised the ringing in her head had died down. But the sounds that replaced it were far from comforting.
There were screams that echoed down the hall, sounds of architecture crashing from high above into the cavernous space that was a central thoroughfare for the mall. My friends. That thing… I hope they’re okay. Lucas, El… Dustin, Will, Erica. God, I hope you’re all safe.
Down the hallway, from the elevator the unlucky trio had tried to escape through, new bodies appeared. Five figures hurried into the hallway, headed directly for herself and Mike. It was hard to focus on their outfits though, so Max primarily watched their black boots as they came in and out of her vision, words she couldn’t understand being spoken in hurried tones. Fingers prodded her, and a groan slipped from her throat without warning, words returning to the realm of incoherence to Max’s brain. Whilst thoughts worked just fine, every aspect of her physical self was fading out of control, likely as her body lost the brief rush of adrenaline.
Having others around was meant to mean that she was safe. Feeling hands find purchase on her body, Max was hauled up and over someone’s shoulder - a soldier’s if she had to guess, and the swinging her body underwent with every step caused nausea to set in immediately. Bile sat in her throat, and Max coughed reflexively as she tried to clear it from her airways.
Nearby, Mike had also been slung over someone’s shoulder, his arms hanging limply and fingers nearly dragging across the floor until he was readjusted to sit better. The movement elicited a groan from Mike as he finally came to somewhat, but he was just as incoherent as Max was, if not more. She hadn’t seen what happened to her frenemy, but with her eyes clearing up regarding close-quarters viewing, Mike was in bad condition. There was blood on his face, his nose likely broken. Bruises had bloomed over his arms, clearly made by angry fingers digging deeply into flesh. His green shirt with the yellow and blue stripes through the middle had ridden up (well, more like it had fallen prey to gravity) to display a motley of purples and blues that looked so dark in areas it could be considered black. Surrounding these wounds were lines of angry red and poorly healed yellows, making it look like Mike had been viciously attacked with a baseball bat or a steel-capped boot.
They were taken into the elevator again, their carriers (or captors?), bringing the American teenagers closer together. Seeing Mike’s eyes fluttering as he tried to bring himself to full consciousness, Max used the momentum of the person holding her to reach out to him, managing to hook her ring finger around Mike’s pinkie finger. His head moved, rotating at the neck and eyes opened briefly to see who had reached to him.
“Mike…” Her throat hurt from the rapid-fire pleading she had been making to Billy earlier, coupled with his palm around her neck, and the emotions that came with terrifying situations.
Trying harder to take deeper breaths, Mike’s voice was no more than a breath before he passed out once again. “Max…’ Returning to the state of a lifeless doll (Max refused to compare Mike to a corpse, she just couldn’t let that thought process finish), Mike hung over the shoulder of a stranger with no awareness. What blood hadn’t already dried, slowly carved its way down (up?) Mike’s face, moving like a lazy snake in the sun with the consistency and colouring of molasses.
Max felt the blood rushing to her head, making the headache worse and the incessant, background ringing to be replaced with the constant thump of her heartbeat. Absently, she almost laughed as she expected Mike to make a comment about how he was amazed she had a heart in the first place.
As they exited the elevator, and Max slowly lost consciousness again herself, the four Russians that had scooped up the two injured teenagers headed out to their evacuation vehicles, looking to escape the mall that had been the perfect cover for their military base. Speaking between each other with impatient, lightning-fast but hushed tones, they discussed the practicality and purpose of what they were doing.
“This is ridiculous.” The soldier carrying Mike didn’t understand why they were risking capture and loss of vital materials for the sake of two children of another country.
Rolling his eyes, the soldier carrying Max had heard enough of his comrade’s complaints. “The doctor had use for the two idiots in sailor outfits. They got away. These two were seen on camera with the others. They will know things. We can make them talk. Or feed them to the new pets if they don’t.”
A third soldier, speaking with a tone to imply them to shut up and hurry up, glared at them both briefly, speaking on behalf of their final group member. “We have many uses for our three prisoners, and you would do well to ensure they make the trip so they are not literal dead weight.”
Looking at each other sheepishly, the two Russian soldiers were considerably humbled, and moved their captives into more comfortable carry positions so their injuries would not be exacerbated by poor treatment. Loaded into a delivery truck to disguise their exit, the doctor looked over the two, cataloguing their injuries both obvious and likely, before sedating and restraining them to prevent potential rebellion later.
~~~~~
With the ruins of the Flesh Flayer safely hidden amidst the burning mall, many Americans stood by in confusion, not knowing the truth of what occurred in the small town during their Fourth of July celebrations. Families did their best to reunite with children, and paramedics tended to a group of rowdy teens that were shaken beyond belief, harrowed in their expressions and exhausted in their postures.
Having found each other first, Will stayed by El’s side, helping her walk as they searched for their friends and family. They saw Dustin reunited with Robin and Steve, checking in on them since they’d given themselves up to the Russians and got tortured for their troubles. Lucas and Erica were sticking close together, looking like they were arguing despite sitting so close their shock blankets were touching. Joyce had managed to find Jonathan and Nancy, making sure they were being looked after given the beating they had taken against Tom Holloway and Bruce Lowe back at the hospital earlier that night. Murray was close by, pitching in with some random commentary at times, likely having returned alongside Joyce since they’d been in the Russian base together.
“I cannot see him.” Looking for Hopper, whom she wanted desperately to speak with again now that this tragedy was passing, as it had in times before. She had come to rely on the grumpy old police officer for comfort and stability, to know that things would be alright with time. Jim had given El more hope than she once ever dreamed she could have.
But he was nowhere in sight. Will and El couldn’t see him anywhere, and when Joyce caught their gazes, she gave the saddest shake of the head, brought to tears again just by looking at the children she loved so dearly. Helping her hobble over to his mother, Will panicked even more, not taking the time to properly process that Hopper was dead and gone. “Have you guys seen Mike? O-Or Max? We got separated, I haven’t seen them anywhere yet.”
Hearing this caused El to freeze, becoming painfully aware she was the last one to see them as well. “Th-They… Hallway. Billy, he… He hurt them. They tried to protect me.” Her voice hoarse from abuse and tears, El clutched onto Joyce for dear life, her one good leg threatening to collapse beneath her. “He hurt them so bad… I don’t know if they got out.”
Resolve shattering instantly, Will’s heart felt like it broke into shrapnel, dissolving into dust faster than light could travel a single meter. Nancy scooped the younger teen into her arms and herd him towards the firefighters, getting the information about where El had last seen the two, breaking Will from his stupor just long enough to hear the next conversation.
“They might have woken up and gotten trapped in the elevator, or one of the other downed parts of the mall. We haven’t searched the entire place yet as we can’t put our own guys in danger, but if they’re in there, we will find them.” A firefighter promised Nancy and Will that they’d search for the missing teens, taking their descriptions and last known location down onto a notepad so he could distribute it between all emergency services as known missing persons
Eventually being brought back to an ambulance and being given shock blankets, Nancy had her injury checkup finished before she sat beside Will. The two held each other, whilst Jonathan stood by them like a silent, vigilant protector. Joyce and Murray gathered the other kids together, making sure they were safe and in sight, asking them if they knew where Mike and Max were.
Together, they watched the mall burn, and slowly be snuffed out. Despite protests, teens and children were taken home. First, the Sinclairs, then Dustin was picked up by his mother. Robin and Steve went with him, since Steve no longer had the keys to his own car, and they were both in terrible, physical condition. Karen had arrived, Ted keeping Holly safe at home whilst the mother of the Wheeler children broke with devastation upon learning her son was still considered missing after four hours. When it hit the six hour mark, the teams had sufficiently stopped the fire, with the military taking over official searches as they looked for remaining survivors whilst helping quarantine the Russian intelligence secret headquarters.
After eight hours, they had given up. There was no sign of Max, or of Mike. Neil and Susan Hargrove both became inconsolably distraught at the news of Billy’s death, and Max’s missing status, presumed dead at this stage.
“Without Hop, where will I go?” Fresh tears threatened to fall when the last stragglers were forced to go home. Only, El’s home was gone now, without Hop to come back to. Without Mike to protect and shelter her from the Bad Men like he once did as well. “My home is gone… again.”
Holding her close, Will refused to let her be separated from them. “Come home with us. You don’t have to worry, o-or hide. Because, well, we know you. A-and uhm, well I kinda owe you still, right?” Trying to make a joke but knowing it fell flat before it even left his mouth, Will hoped Joyce would be fine with him making a promise like this.
“Without a doubt sweetheart. I’m sure Hop would want you to come with us as well. Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? I’ll make sure it’s taken care of when I speak to Owens tomorrow.” Seeing as she had a meeting with the man anyway, Joyce would see to it that El kept having a home, and would be kept safe as best she could. She might have failed to save Hopper, but she wouldn’t fail his daughter.
Heads touching, arms around each other and fatigue threatening to pull them into slumber, Will and El found themselves in the back of a military transport, Jonathan at El’s other side whilst Joyce sat in the front, Nancy returning home with Karen because she needed to be there for her own family as well. “They’re… not really gone, right?” Will asked, his voice strained and barely able to escape his throat. “M-Mike and Max - They - they didn’t find any bodies. M-Maybe they got out?” He couldn’t accept the fact that Mike was gone. He refused to. Mike had refused to give up on him, even after there was a fake body. So how could they know for sure that their missing friends were really, truly gone yet?
There was the slightest of shrugs, as El was already on the verge of sleep. “No powers… No battery… can’t look. Tomorrow… I will try tomorrow.” With that, El’s body slackened, and Will adjusted so she could fall into his grasp. Tears silently fell down Will’s face, unable to make eye contact with anyone else despite the looks his mother and brother were throwing his way. Eventually, he too succumbed to rest, unable to remain in the waking world any longer.