đź Early Morning đź
A man lay sprawled across a worn sofa, TV flickering blue light over an unshaven face. One arm dangled off the edge, fingers brushing the carpet. A half-finished beer sweated beside him. Hopper groaned awake, blinking like someone rebooting after a crash.
With a grunt, he pushed himself up, joints popping in protest. He wandered toward the sliding glass door, barefoot, shirtless, and absolutely not awake enough for the world.
Cold morning air slapped him, but Hopper didn't flinch. He pulled a cigarette from the pack, lit it with a flick, and inhaled deeply. Smoke drifted into the misty dawn as he stared into the backyard, as it had personally offended him.
Another morning. Another cigarette. Another day he didn't want.
đ± A Few Hours Later đ±
Hopper's cruiser rolled to a stop outside the Hawkins Police Department. He stepped out in full uniformâbut still somehow looked like he'd just lost a fight with his alarm clock.
Inside, the station was at peak professional productivity:
Poker. Lots of it.
Three officers crowded around a card table. Hopper didn't comment. Didn't sigh. Didn't even raise an eyebrow. He just walked over, peeked at Callahan's hand, and said:
"You're about to lose half your rent. Fold."
They laughed nervously becauseâŠwell, he wasn't joking.
Before he could escape to his office, Marlene intercepted him, hands on hips, eyes carrying the exhaustion of twelve cups of coffee.
"Why didn't you answer the phone, Jim?"
"I was busy, Marlene."
"Doing whatâbeing unconscious?" she snapped. "Joyce Byers called ten times. Ten. For the love of my sanity, call her back."
"I'll deal with it later."
"She'sâ"
"Later," he insisted, and pushed into his office.
He stopped cold.
Joyce Byers and Monica Geller-Bing were already inside. Joyce wringing her hands. Monica pacing like a caffeinated cat.
Joyce stepped forward, voice trembling. "Where were you, Hopper?"
"I was⊠working," he lied poorly. "What's going on?"
Before Joyce could answer, Monica squinted at him.
"Did you shower in cigarette smoke?"
Hopper pointed at her. "Thisâthis is natural scent. Totally organic."
Joyce cut in, sharp and frantic. "Hopper. My son is missing."
The humor drained out of the room.
Hopper straightened, suddenly all business. "Did you call Lonnie?"
"No."
"Then he's probably with him. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it's the dad."
Joyce stared at him, eyes burning. "And the one time?"
Monica crossed her arms. "Yeah. What about that one?"
Hopper froze. Then something in his expression shiftedâan invisible click of gears turning.
Without another word, he walked out.
"You two," he barked at the lounging officers. "Move. Now."
Moments later, his cruiser was rolling fast toward Hawkins Middle School.
đČ Evan's POV đČ
After thoroughly humiliating the wannabe bully earlier, we sat in Mr. Clarke's class while he explained wormholes with the enthusiasm of a man who would absolutely die for science.
Right when he started comparing black holes to cosmic drains, the classroom door opened.
Principal Coleman stood there, wearing his signature someone messed up, and I'm tired expression.
"Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, Evan Bing, Lucas Sinclair. With me."
Cue the quiet "ooohs" from the class.
We followed.
đł Principal's Office đł
Hopper sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, looking like he'd slept for exactly twelve minutes and regretted all of them.
Mike, Dustin, and Lucas started babbling over each other, voices tripping in panic. Hopper raised a hand.
"Heyâone at a time!"
His eyes slid to me like please tell me one of you is sane.
I shrugged and leaned forward. "Yesterday at eight, Will left Mike's place. He took Mirkwoodâsame path he always uses."
"Mirkwood?" Hopper repeated.
Before I could explain, Officer Callahan muttered, "Kids and their fantasy namesâŠ"
I turned to him slowly. Smiled politely.
"Oh, I get it. Takes imagination to come up with names. Doesn't worry you thoughâyou're completely safe."
Dustin snorted. Lucas coughed to hide a laugh. Mike looked delighted.
Callahan turned a shade of tomato.
Hopper ignored him. "Keep going."
"The name's from Lord of the Rings," I added. "That's all we know."
Hopper went still. Motionless. Thinking.
Then he stood.
"Call a search party," he told the nearest officer. "Whoever'll volunteer."
Mike immediately stood up. "We can help!"
Me, Dustin, and Lucas stepped beside him, nodding in solidarity.
Hopper stared at us with that no way in hell adult face.
"No. You're kids. You go home."
"Butâ" Dustin began.
"No." Hopper's tone slammed like a door. "Home. Now."
The room fell quietâbecause he wasn't just annoyed anymore.
He was scared.
And that scared us.
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I'll upload the next chapter on Friday. In the vote, Eleven won. That was my personal preference too, and I just couldn't separate Lucas and Max. I do feel a bit sad for Mike, but I'll make it up to him somehow.
So, how are you guys liking it so far?
If you're enjoying it, please leave some reviews, comments, longer thoughts or paragraph comments, and don't forget to send some power stones.
If you're not enjoying it, let me know where I can improveâand still send me some stones.
P.S.: The MC won't interfere with the main plot until chapter 14.
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Number of Chapters in P@treon: 10
[email protected]/Micheal210
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