PRETTY SICK!
— H-E-R-E ☆

Gen kept the thought that the Mind Flayer had no humanity left in it on the forefront of her mind.

Their plan had finally begun: Hopper, Gen, Jonathan, Joyce, and Mike all stood in the rickety wooden building, collectively holding their breaths, waiting, ready for the scheme to fail and having those Demodogs after them again.

Will sat tied to a wooden beam in the center of the shed, deep brown eyes widened to the size of saucers, glancing around the disguised walls. Frantically, his shortened breaths racked through his petite frame as he struggled to uncover where he was exactly; the Mind Flayer didn't like what they'd done. "What? What? What is this?" he questioned with hostility unlike the little Byers, "What is this? Why am I tied up?"

There was zero recognition of those dearest to him in his gaze—only a panicked search for an escape, or hint towards the location. "Will, we just wanna talk to you," whispered Joyce to her son, crouched down to get below his level. Already beaten down by the Mind Flayer, this was the last resort for her, the last resort to get her boy back. "We're not gonna hurt you."

"Where am I?" he shouted, distraught.

Hopper crouched beside Joyce with a sheet in hand, one that Gen refused to look at in fear it might trip her up during a very important time (no, unfortunately she was not God's greatest soldier like she pretended to be. Even a photo could unsettle her.). She already knew what was drawn on the paper, anyway, a photo of the creature they sought after to kill, its long tendrils outstretched over the horizon as it searched for someone to use as a host.

"You recognize this?" he asked as he held the paper up. "Do you recognize this?"

Will hastily shook his head, his pale skin glowed white under the bright lamp. He looked scared.

"Hey, we wanna help you," said Joyce with a maternal softness that she heard often used with her sons. "But to do that, we have to understand how to kill it."

"Why am I tied up?" Will shouted back, which made his mother flinch and attempt to soothe him with indecisive pets along his side, like she felt unsure if the wrong hand placement would kill her son. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jonathan shut his eyes and Mike inhale slightly.

He continued to scream a string of questions and commands as he thrashed. Hopper had to place his hand on the back of his neck to steady the boy and Gen's eyes flitted over to the lamp as it flickered wildly—she felt her toes curl inside of her boots, itching to take a step forward and do something to relieve the situation—but Will began to calm down. He stared at Joyce with blown out pupils and black irises. An inhuman existence lived inside of him, monstrous with a gaping black hole for a mind; the expression on Will's young face made that much clear to her. She understood fear when she could look into the eyes of one of those she held dearest and saw nothing but an animalistic void.

Joyce took a breath and sat across from Will, bent forward with her hands clasped together in front of herself. "Do you know what March 22nd is?" She paused. "It's your birthday. Your birthday.

"When you turned eight, I gave you that huge box of crayons. Do you remember that? It was 120 colors," she told him, her voice wavered between the brink of tears and a whisper. Gen's jaw clenched involuntarily. "And all your friends, they got you Star Wars toys, but all you wanted to do was draw with all your new colors. And you drew this big spaceship, but it wasn't from a movie—it was your spaceship. A rainbow ship is what you called it, and you must've used every color in that box... I took that with me to Melvald's and I put it up and I told everyone who came in, "My son drew this.". And you were so embarrassed, but I was so proud. I was so, so proud."

As Jonathan came up, he began to tell a story to Will about the beloved Castle Byers that resided in the woods of Hawkins. Gen watched as his face contorted into an odd expression, something between fear and a smile, like one side of his cognition was in an argument with the other and a silent battle was ongoing, unbeknownst to the people telling stories in front of him.

His eyes darted from Joyce, to Jonathan, to Mike when the latter spoke of the beginning of their friendship in kindergarten. If it weren't for the threat of danger that hung over her shoulders, Gen might have felt her lip quiver with the slightest hint of emotion—Will's soul was kind, sensitive, he was a one in a million type of person that did anything in order to make people's lives easier. Her own story teetered on the tip of her tongue; about their time in the Upside Down, something she promised herself that she would keep buried forever in order to keep her own peace. But when Mike looked over at Gen expectantly, the dam broke.

"The first day we were alone in the Upside Down... just us two," she muttered. It felt like the entire world went quiet to hear her speak. "I didn't know what to do with a kid when Pete was there, let alone by myself; and now I had you on my back walking God knows where—it was so cold, and I was so scared that something was going to happen. You were so fragile. Neither of us could run for very long without getting tired anymore... and, I don't know. I guess I was scared I was going to hurt you somehow."

Gen paused and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "But, Will, you... you saw how exhausted I was and you told me to stop and drink some water. The last of our clean water. There was no end in sight at that point, but you insisted that I took it—that I needed it more than you—and then I realized: we were friends. That was the first time anyone had shown me that kind of kindness. We weren't allies, or colleagues, and you weren't scared of me. We were friends. We're friends. You protected me. And now it's my turn to return the favor, I know you're in there somewhere."

She stared into Will's eyes and took a deep breath, the exhale came out shaky, but in that moment Gen's pride swallowed itself and she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that they could stop this thing. She wanted the Will that offered the last of their clean water rations back.

Joyce let out two short sobs and reached forward to clasp Will's knee with a motherly tenderness. "Will, baby..." she trailed off with sadness thick in her throat, "If you're in there, just please... talk to us. Please, honey, please, can you do that for me? Please. I love you so much."

The chair's legs rattled gently against the wooden floor of the shed as Will's body quivered, his face trembled as it fought between a blank stare, a smile, and fear. He listened to each word that came from each of their mouths, and Will heard it. Gen saw it in his face when his eyes darted to her.

Slowly, though, it ceased all movement besides the shaky breaths that racked his small frame and he spat out, "Let me go."

Such a change in demeanor from a moment prior unsettled Gen and disappointed the group. She pressed her palms to her eyes and shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind, but memories of the Upside Down raced alongside the current issues that worried her beyond belief. Pete. Will. The demogorgon. The air that always broke through her lungs thickly wherever she stood. She coughed, the air felt gritty with dust when she inhaled through her nose sharply, a consequence of upturning everything in the shed.

For a moment, all hope was lost, but Hopper walked to the door and outside as he grunted out, "Come on, we need to talk."

She trudged after him with Joyce, Jonathan, and Mike in tow, the fresh air offered some relief from the stuffiness of the decrepit building. They followed him through the back-door of the Byers' house and watched as he grabbed a blank envelope and pen from a fixture on the wall.

"What happened?" Dustin asked.

"I think he's talking, just not with words." Hopper sat down at the table and began to scrawl out dots and lines, which Gen recognized as morse code, but couldn't put her finger on what it translated to. Russian, sure, but translating morse code to form an English word needed a bit more work from her.

Gen stood beside Steve, peering over Lucas' shoulder as Hopper completed a word.

"What is that?" asked Steve, and the ravenette tried not to roll her eyes at him.

"Morse code," the group chorused monotonously, each focused on the meaning of the symbols that Hopper wrote down on the envelope.

H-E-R-E. The morse code spelled out, "Here.", which meant that Will was listening the whole time, and more importantly: could communicate with them. Gen let out a sigh of relief for him.

"Will's still in there. He's talking to us."

𓆩♡𓆪

The second phase of their plan was simple: keep talking. Keep Will in there and avoid anything that would give the Mind Flayer an idea as to where their base was located, that was Gen, Mike, Jonathan, and Joyce's job. Hopper had the task of sending the morse code into the house where everyone else resided and translated.

It almost felt too easy, like something leered at them in the darkness and would jump out the moment before everything came together perfectly, but Will was in there. He saw just as much as the Mind Flayer saw and could reverse-spy on it, tell them their next move in order to save both him and Hawkins, or worse, it wasn't him and they handed the monster a perfect opening to ambush them all. Gen cursed her pessimism sometimes, but it seemed like a plausible outcome when she considered that everything that could have gone wrong that night did go wrong.

Most of the scientists at the lab were killed for sport, not to mention Bob and Angie, which the latter managed to escape but Gen knew better than to get her hopes up for her survival. The thought in itself made her teeth clench down on the skin inside of her cheek and frown as Joyce spoke to Will, she shut her eyes and sighed—she needed to think positively, or at least of something positive involving Will in order to keep the plan in motion.

Gen took a step forward and sat across from him, lips pressed into a flat line as she stared at the creature in front of her. This felt a lot less emotional than the first time. The first time was weighed down with vehement desperation that fueled their sadness and fear of losing the kind-hearted boy. There was nothing more frightening than losing control of the situation. Now that they had it back, somewhat, each spoke with a newfound confidence to save Will.

"It was only a month before my birthday when we met, so it came up in conversation, obviously, and you found out I had never celebrated before," she recalled, furrowing her brows. "December 3rd. I was turning 17."

That day, her birthday, felt like any other day of the year. Nothing felt special despite the fact that people told her that it should, they got her gifts and treats and took her out for dinner, but she didn't feel the elated rush of excitement that her friends described as growing another year older. Gen received more claps on the back and shoulder than she could have imagined, and Nancy even made her a card decorated in colorful pens and glitter that currently sat on her dresser beside other photos and knick knacks that belonged to her. She still had the beaded friendship bracelet she gifted her on her wrist, though the pastel beads now had a dried splatter of brown on them.

If anything, she disliked the attention, plus the weather fucking sucked: a dreary gray overcast in anticipation for the first snow that fell that night. But, like the resilient person she was, Gen powered through the day with curt nods and sparse "Thank you's." to the people she liked—even a tight-lipped, stiff smile to Eleven when she made her an Eggo-extravaganza for dinner (without Hopper's knowledge, of course.). Her disinterest in the day may have shocked most people, but something more shocking happened when Will invited her over for a birthday surprise: she felt it.

It. The euphoric sensation that Eddie described, the excitement that led Nancy to lose hours of sleep the night before her own birthday

"You told me to come over—so I did—and you had this whole setup. Ingredients and ingredients to make a cake, but not a normal cake because you knew I hated cake, a salty one," explained Gen, glancing at her feet to suppress a grin. "We made a mess and it was the nastiest thing I've ever tasted. Joyce was so mad. But, we didn't stop laughing the whole time, so that was all that mattered, honestly. "

Joyce looked at Gen and gave her a tearful smile. She reached over and grabbed her hand, gently, as she gave it a small comforting squeeze. Gen held her breath in her throat and shut her eyes, feeling a warm bubble form in her chest at the maternal touch. Icy pinpricks danced along the surface of her skin and it took an inhuman amount of strength to be able to squeeze her hand back without becoming tense—there really was something strange about Gen. Something fatal. It made her react to things in a way that seemed nearly alien.

Gen glanced at Will and watched him carefully for a change in his expression, but the Mind Flayer stared back at her. The void. Blank. Nothing. She sighed and rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants before she cracked her knuckles against the center of her palm, a bad habit that Hopper got on her for often.

For a few moments the silence comforted her nerves, then a muffled, yet unmistakable sound pierced through the air into the shed.

The telephone. Someone was calling the home phone.

"Shit," Mike mumbled.

It rang for a few moments and then went silent, everyone in the room watched Will with anticipation as his eyes began to roll back and move rapidly behind his eyelids. The whole room held their breath.

"Hey," said Joyce, "Hey, can you hear me?"

"It's searching," Gen replied, standing up from the chair.

Will's grunts turned into pants as his eyes moved faster and faster, sifting through each Demodog for the closest route to the Byers' house. Hopper took a knee beside the boy and frowned, "It knows. It knows where we are."

In a few quick strides, Gen went towards the door and pushed the black tarp out of her way to go outside. She spun around in search for any monsters that may have already made their way towards their base and unfortunately, she heard the same distant shrieks that she heard when the Demodogs were called into the lab. Creaturesque moans pierced the silence of the night, Gen aligned with no God, but she found herself in a noiseless prayer for any unfortunate soul that happened to be caught in the crossfire.

The hair on her arm stood on end as she turned to look at Hopper, Jonathan, and Mike. "They're coming. Michael, hurry inside. Now."

He took a last look at the shed and nodded, hurrying into the house through the backdoor while Gen headed back within the shed with the men to take Will into the house as well.

"They're coming. C'mon!" Jonathan exclaimed as everyone ripped the unconscious Will free from his binds. She barely had time to think, let alone be disgusted with the fact that she was so close to Jonathan.

Gen hoisted him over her shoulder and rushed towards the building with Joyce beside her and Jonathan not far behind. She used her foot to nudge open the door and ran into the living room to place Will on the sofa, "Everyone together!" she commanded, pointing towards the room with the most space in it.

The children huddled around the large front window and within a few seconds Hopper shouted at them to get away from it and to stand behind the adults and teenagers with weapons. He heaved out a breath before holding up a hunting rifle towards Jonathan, "Do you know how to use this?"

"What?"

"Can you use this?" he repeated as Jonathan stumbled over his words. Due to his clear incapability, Gen took a stance in front of him and Joyce as a means to protect them from the harm that was hurdling their way.

"I can," stated Nancy sternly, and Hopper needed no explanation for him to toss the gun in her direction.

Everyone took a defensive stance facing the window and front door, either crouched and ready to muscle their way through whatever was about to burst through the door, or focused and taking aim. The ravenette took a deep breath to steady her body and prepared to use her abilities to stop it. She felt unease crawling up the back of her neck during the silence, the only sounds heard in the room were the monsters and the uneven pants that escaped the group's lips, and that definitely didn't help calm her nerves.

She craned her neck towards everyone and triple checked that they were all present before turning to face the front once again.

A thud following a guttural roar that came from the right side of the house made everyone jump and spin towards the source. It sounded like an altercation was in the midst. "What are they doing?" Nancy called out.

"It sounds like they're fighting," Gen muttered in reply.

The bushes in the kitchen window rustled, only illuminated by the moonlight as Gen had blown out the lamp above the dining table, then paused for a moment and the noise of a screech whipped around the side of the building back to the front. No one dared move from their places unless to pivot towards the source of the noises. Groans and growls whisked around in front of the house at different frequencies and with a tone that sounded urgent; panicked. Her anxiety rose the most when it fell completely silent, no rustling of leaves, no footsteps, not even a low moan—complete silence.

Then, in a split second, a figure went flying through the front window and Gen used all of her strength to stop it mid-air.

"Fucking shit!" she yelped in shock and dropped it nearly as fast as she froze it to a halt. Her abilities weren't built for that, and the only physical equivalent her brain could piece together with the feeling of ceasing its movement, was that it felt like she caught a brick to the chest with no warning or padding to brace herself.

Gen stumbled a bit and grunted, not wasting a second to bounce back after the hit, or rather, lack thereof. It took a moment for the group to realize it, but the Demodog laid lifeless on the floor in front of them, its body in a heap of slimy red and olive flesh.

Dustin took a step forward. "Holy shit."

"Is it dead?" Max asked.

Everyone made their way towards it slowly to inspect it, Gen included. It looked dead, or close to it as it didn't move a muscle when Hopper used the flat of his boot to loll its head to the side. Hunching over, she pressed her palms to her knees as she managed to catch a short breath.

Though, that didn't last long. The door creaked eerily. Her attention turned to the front door, and it began to unlock itself from the inside, no one moved a muscle unless they cocked their gun as a warning for whatever stood behind that door. First, the twist lock, then the chain, and finally the doorknob rotated as the door opened, revealing Eleven, clad in all black clothes with her hair slicked back. Her nose dripped blood onto her upper lip, and as the group processed who stood in front of them, she smiled.

—————
——— AUTHOR'S NOTE
this chapter was the one i got stuck
on for momths bc is SO fucking
BORING!! to write. like will can
you be a little more idk interesting
while possessed ??? 😒

anyway get ready bc we only have
three more chapters of act 1 😭 im
so not ready for this era to end but
the show must go on

votes and comments are always
appreciated!! dont be a ghost
reader please and thank you

PRETTY SICK
girlpools  /  2023