Back in the Gymnasium – Brenner's POV
Dr. Brenner's eyes snapped back to the kiddie pool. His pale reflection shimmered in the rippling water, but what chilled him more was the creeping sensation gnawing at his chest. His fists clenched tight, knuckles whitening, as though he were holding onto the last threads of control. The deal—the careful balance he had been orchestrating—was unraveling, slipping through his fingers like smoke.
Yet beneath the panic, something deeper stirred. A feeling. A dreadful certainty.
Frazier noticed immediately. "Sir?" His voice cracked against the oppressive silence.
"What happened? What are you thinking so hard about?"
Brenner's gaze flicked to him, pale and haunted. "Frazier… I think someone is controlling our every move."
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Frazier's breath hitched. "C-controlling us? What do you mean, sir?" His own face drained of color, the echo of fear widening his eyes.
Brenner straightened, the weight of years pressing into the hunch of his shoulders. "I don't know exactly," he admitted, voice sharp yet uncertain. "But this isn't chance. Not the girl, not the kids, not even Hopper. I'm getting the gut feeling—no, the certainty—that someone guided us here. Purposefully. Like pawns on a board."
Frazier swallowed hard. "But… who? Who could possibly—"
"That's not what's important right now," Brenner cut in, firm and cold. He forced his expression back into control, though his voice betrayed the tremor of unease. "What matters is finding Eleven. Finding the children. Once they're in our hands, then—and only then—can we trace back who is pulling the strings."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Even Frazier seemed to sense it—the invisible hand moving them toward some unseen end.
Byers House – Present POV
The old Byers' living room reeked of dust, gun oil, and something metallic—the sharp sting of freshly drawn blood. The carpet under their feet was darkening, crimson drops spreading out like blooming flowers.
Nancy winced as the blade bit into her palm, Jonathan following suit beside her. Steve gritted his teeth and dragged the knife across his hand, watching the blood drip, his jaw tight but his stance firm.
Behind them, the kids gathered in a nervous huddle. Mike's face scrunched with doubt, his voice breaking the silence. "Are you sure this is the right thing, Nancy? This is… this is stupid."
Dustin nodded quickly, his curls bouncing as he fidgeted with his slingshot. "Yeah, seriously. I mean—blood sacrifices in your mom's living room? It sounds like the start of every bad horror movie."
Nancy ignored the sting in her palm, her eyes sharp as steel. "It's the only way. The thing is drawn to blood—I saw it. We saw it. Dray confirmed it too. And fire, that's its weakness. That's why we're here."
Mike frowned. "But why not the school? We could have done this there."
Dustin chimed in, "Exactly! Safer there, less creepy here. And no blood ruining the carpet."
Nancy's reply was firm, unwavering. "Because Dray said blood alone isn't enough. We need to be close to the gate, close to the danger. The Byers' house is the only place."
Her certainty silenced them, though doubt lingered in their expressions. Dustin opened his mouth again, questions tumbling on his tongue, but Steve snapped before he could finish.
"Stop it, man. We can debate later. First we finish this thing." He tightened his grip on the spiked bat, his bleeding hand smearing red against the wood. His eyes flicked to Nancy and Jonathan. "You guys ready?"
Both nodded, pale but resolute.
Blood splattered onto the carpet, pooling. The air seemed to shift—heavier, denser, like something was waiting just outside the walls.
"Enough," Nancy muttered quickly, wrapping her hand with gauze. The kids rushed forward, fumbling through their makeshift first aid. Mike knelt beside Nancy, tying the cloth tight around her palm. Eleven stood silently at her side, watching, her dark eyes locked on the growing stains on the floor. Dustin clumsily bandaged Steve, while Lucas helped Jonathan, both boys moving quickly but with trembling hands.
Minutes passed. The living room became a war camp.
Jonathan's knuckles whitened around the spiked bat. Nancy loaded the Remington, the heavy clack echoing in the tense silence. Steve moved behind the kids, raising the bat defensively, his position shielding Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. Eleven remained close to the front, her chest rising and falling in steady, deliberate breaths.
Every second stretched thin.
Then the lights flickered.
The bulbs above them sputtered violently, plunging the room into bursts of darkness and sickly yellow glow. Shadows danced across the walls.
Lucas gripped his slingshot tighter, his voice shaking. "It's coming, guys…"
The group froze, tension coiling like a spring. Every one of them understood.
The monster was near.
Dray's POV – The Upside Down
From the other side, in the nightmare mirror of the world, Dray crouched in the suffocating dark. His eyes tracked the hulking shadow tearing through the ruined landscape—the Demogorgon. Its screech echoed against the twisted trees, the beast hurtling in the direction of the lab, then veering sharply, its path shifting.
Dray's lips curved in a faint, grim smile. His plan was working.
Every step the monster took confirmed it. The gamble had been worth it.
Exactly as he predicted.
Dray exhaled, steadying himself. "It worked," he whispered, his voice swallowed by the endless dark. His gamble had paid off. The hunt was no longer random. The board was set.
And the real game was about to begin.