"Alright." Richard held a floppy disk, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
The virus was stored on the disk; the floppy served as both carrier and storage. Slot it into The Lab's reader and the malware would auto-install, siphoning every research file once it breached the system.
"Question is, how do I sneak into The Lab?" Richard clicked his tongue, stowed the disk in his backpack for emergencies, and sank into his desk chair to think.
After a while he gave up. According to the original plot, as long as he stayed tied to the main cast, an opening into The Lab would present itself.
More than that, Richard wanted to keep an eye on little Eleven.
If Nancy was the monster-slaying war-goddess, then Eleven was the team's cheat code. The dungeon ahead was hell-mode; without hacks they were doomed. Eleven was the party's main DPS. However good Richard's own skills were, when push came to shove the kid sister had his back.
While Hopper led the town's search party through the outskirts, Richard slipped away again and found Eleven. He brought her to the abandoned junkyard on the edge of town—Mike and the gang's other secret base.
"The critters in The Upside Down are freaks, and your power, though strong, has limits. I'd like to coach you, help your gift grow," Richard told her.
Eleven nodded. Richard pointed at a derelict school bus ten metres away. "Use your telekinesis to drag it here."
She shot him a timid look that clearly said, That's too hard.
"No pressure. Try first; I'll guide you with my experience. Do well and I'll cook you something delicious tonight," Richard coaxed.
Eleven's internal radar pinged; her eyes sharpened, suddenly fierce.
Food!
She stretched out her hands. An invisible force wrapped around the tyre-blown bus and it began to rock.
"Agh—!" Clenching her teeth, she screamed. The bus lurched sideways, metal screeching over dirt—twenty centimetres, then blood streamed from her nose. Strength spent, the vehicle toppled onto its side.
Eleven swayed. Richard steadied her, shielding her from the dust cloud. When the air cleared he dabbed her nose with a handkerchief. "Feel okay?"
"I'm fine." She shook her head. This level of training was nothing compared to what Papa demanded back in The Lab.
Richard knelt to her eye-level. "Your power comes from your mind, and your mind is tied to emotion. Emotions spring from many places, but chiefly from the bonds between people. Joy, rage, grief, fear—love, hate, longing—these feelings can make your mental strength explode.
You may not yet grasp longing or hate, but you know joy, rage, grief, and fear. When you use your gift, recall the memories that make you happy, the ones that make you furious, the ones that make you sad, the ones that terrify you. Accept those feelings; wield them. They'll make you stronger…'
He stepped behind her and whispered like a devil at her ear, "Let's try again."
Eleven tensed, but gathered herself once more.
"Your papa doesn't love you…" The first sentence made her shudder, mind suddenly crystal-focused. Richard pressed on. "You think he's kind because he treats you like a daughter, but he only values your ability. Strip that away and he'd discard you without hesitation.
You're a doll… a tool."
His words stabbed the child's heart. Tears of rage welled; her knuckles whitened, face flushed. The fallen bus, now scraping massive friction, began to slide—and faster than before.
"Ever wonder why you're Eleven? Were there Ten, Nine, Eight before you? Where are they now? Probably abandoned because they weren't good enough. Trash to be tossed aside. He really is a demon…"
The moment the last syllable left Richard's mouth, a barrier of invisible force flared around Eleven—her power erupting another notch.
With a heart-rending scream she dragged the bus all the way to her feet, grief and fury flooding her mind.
Then Richard's warm palm settled firmly on her head, pushing through the unconscious shield. Softly he said, "But none of that matters now—whether he ever loved you. After all the pain he caused, he's already forfeited the right to be your papa or to claim your love."
You don't have to be afraid anymore. You've found a family that will cherish you. Hopper may be rough around the edges, but he'll treat you like his own and love you with everything he's got—he can be your real dad. And Mike, Will, and the other little rascals want to be your true friends; maybe one of them even hopes you'll become something more. Haha, of course, that's entirely up to you. Here, your will is free; no one will ever restrain you again. You're free.
Richard's words touched Eleven's heart again, but this time they weren't calculated strikes meant to stir anger—just the gentle calm of someone adopting a rain-soaked kitten. Eleven was simple and sensitive, her feelings direct, acutely aware of malice and kindness. She knew the harsh things Richard had said before weren't from the heart, while every beautiful thing he said now came from genuine sincerity.
Eleven felt her power soothed by that same warmth, turning docile and sweet. She sensed she could control it with greater finesse, could draw on the true might hidden behind the negative emotions inside her. Mental clarity, unhindered thought—nothing more, nothing less.
With a single thought, Eleven wanted to lift the heavy school bus. It rose as she wished, drifting higher or lower, swaying left and right like a toy.
Seeing this, Eleven couldn't help smiling. She let her power fade, turned to Richard, eager to share her joy. Richard had kept that gentle smile the whole time; he nodded and said sincerely, "You're amazing. This is the gift you were born with. But remember, learning to control it isn't about becoming stronger—it's about becoming better.
Sure enough, Eleven's power, just like in the original story, grew stronger or weaker depending on the strength of her emotions and will.
Undeniably, Dr. Brennan had his own genius ideas and theories, but that same brilliance made him overconfident, Paranoia and rationally mad. He fixated on the extraordinary abilities of the gifted, forgetting they were still human. He could think only of molding them with precise instruments and calculations, never realizing that treating them as ordinary people with special talents might help Eleven progress far more easily.
To Richard, superpowers were merely accessories to a person, subject to that person's control. Only when the person grew strong could the ability grow strong. Like learning Shooting: you have to know how to aim before the gun in your hand becomes useful. Dr. Brennan had it backwards.
Eleven only half understood Richard's words, but for the first time she felt that training her powers didn't always have to be painful.
After secretly seeing Eleven home, Richard returned to his own house. Just as he was about to start dinner, the doorbell rang at an inopportune moment.
He washed his hands and opened the door. Faced with a group of men in black outside, he offered a polite smile. "Oh, ladies and gentlemen, how may I help you?"
A middle-aged white woman stood among the towering black-clad men, a professional fake smile on her face, looking perfectly amiable. She flashed her federal badge. "Hello, Mr. Richard. We're with the federal Bureau of Investigation. Sorry to interrupt your cooking. Could you spare a few minutes to assist us?"
"Certainly. What would you like to ask?" Richard glanced at the ID: Connie Frazier.
Right, he thought—just some background character Eleven would later snap out of the story with a flick of her neck.
"Have you seen a special child? Dirty all over, bald." Agent Frazier deliberately avoided mentioning the child's gender.
Classic fishing question in English: "he" and "she" sound different, impossible in Chinese. Richard pretended to think hard, catching sight of an agent in the corner reaching inside his suit. He shook his head calmly. "I don't think so. With features that obvious, I'd remember."
Agent Frazier nodded. "Lately there've been frequent beast sightings around town. Any information you could provide?"
"Oh, now you mention it, I get excited." Richard leaned in conspiratorially. "Know Godzilla? That monster born from nuclear pollution in Japanese films? With unknown beasts attacking people and livestock, folks are panicking. They're starting to think the national Lab set up here cooked up something that turned local wildlife into monsters."
Agent Frazier's mouth twitched. "Do many people know about this?"
"Holy crap, tons—eight out of ten." Richard seamlessly slipped in a classic Chinese curse she wouldn't catch. "Agent Frazier, I'd start there. Check that Lab."
You think I don't know who sent me? You want me to investigate my temporary boss?
She swallowed her exasperation, managed a smile. "Thank you for your input. Sorry to bother you, and thanks for your cooperation."
"My pleasure." Richard beamed as the black-clad group left, a flicker of mockery flashing in his eyes.