The streets near the Wheeler residence were swarming. White vans lined the sidewalks. Men in dark suits moved with sharp precision, speaking into radios. From a distance, the faint beat of helicopter blades echoed overhead.
Behind the cover of a large hedge, Jim Hopper crouched with Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan.
Nancy leaned forward. "That's… my house," she whispered, eyes wide. "My parents. Mike. We have to do something—"
Jim stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "No, we don't. Not now. Mike's not in there."
She turned sharply. "How do you know that?"
Jim pointed to the skies. "If they'd already found the girl and Mike, there wouldn't be a chopper circling. They're searching. Still."
Nancy pulled back, frustration simmering under her breath.
"That means we've got a chance," Jim continued. "But our priority right now is your brother. We need to find out where exactly he is."
Jonathan looked up quickly. "I don't know where they are… but I know how to contact them." He glanced at Joyce. "Will always keeps his walkie-talkie on him. Same with the others. If they're together…"
Joyce caught on immediately. "Where's Will's walkie?"
Jonathan's answer was instant. "In his bedroom."
Jim stood. "Then let's move."
They bolted toward the car, piling in without hesitation. Hopper turned the key, tires skidding slightly as he tore down the street.
Inside, the car was tense but focused. Jonathan broke the silence, leaning closer to Nancy. "What about Dray? We haven't heard from him. He could be waiting for us."
Nancy shook her head, calm but sure. "Don't worry. He's smart. If anything happens, he'll find us before we find him."
Jonathan frowned. "How would he know where we're going?"
"If we don't find him… we'll go ahead with the plan," Nancy said, though her voice betrayed a flicker of doubt.
Jonathan nodded slowly, still unsure if she was right.
Earlier at the station – Jim's memory
Just before they left, Hopper had been finishing up paperwork in his office when a loud voice echoed from the front hall.
"He humiliated my son!"
Jim stepped out to find a furious mother pointing at a young officer, her teenage boy standing behind her, his wrist wrapped in a stiff bandage and secured in a sling.
"What's going on here?" Hopper asked.
The boy spoke up first. "That girl—she broke my hand. She didn't even touch me. She just… looked at me."
Jim frowned. "What girl?"
"She's got powers. She made me fly back, like—like nothing. And my hand—it snapped."
Jim crouched, locking eyes with the teen. "Where'd you see her?"
"With those losers."
"What losers?"
He rolled his eyes. "Who else? Mike Wheeler and his freak friends."
Jim stood up and walked quickly to Joyce and the kids. "We're leaving. Now."
Hawkins Theatre – Steve POV
Steve Harrington stood atop a ladder, scrubbing at the vandalized theater board with a dirty rag. His bruised cheek throbbed with every movement, but he barely noticed. His thoughts swirled with guilt.
Why did I say all that?Why did I curse Jonathan and his family?
He squeezed the rag tighter.
I hurt Nancy… I know her. She's not someone who cheats. I should've trusted her more. Given her space.
He let out a sigh and stepped down to the next rung.
First thing I do—find Jonathan. Tell him I'm sorry. Then Nancy…
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice.
"Steve Harrington!"
Steve froze, then looked down the ladder.
A guy around his age stood near the theatre's side wall. Lean, calm, unfamiliar. Steve didn't recognize him.
"Come down. I want to talk to you."
Confused, Steve paused mid-step. Who the hell is this?
He descended cautiously.
Dray POV
I stood in front of the guy I'd been told about.
Steve Harrington. Messed-up face. Some dried blood near his eyebrow. Looked like he'd just finished a fight—and lost.
When I asked around Hawkins Theatre, someone pointed me here. Said the Steve was the one cleaning up the mess he made with his friends.
Made sense.
I called out to him. "Steve Harrington!"
Startled, Steve descended cautiously, eyes locked on the stranger.
We moved off to the side.
He looked at me, guarded. "Who are you, man? I've never seen you before."
I smiled lightly. "You might not know me. But I've heard plenty about you. The King of Hawkins High."
He raised a brow. "Who's been talking about me?"
Steve's fists tensed at his sides. Who the hell was this guy? Why did he sound like he knew everything and nothing all at once?