The autumn air in Hawkins carried that restless kind of chill — the kind that whispered of endings and beginnings. Streetlights buzzed against the fog, flickering like they knew something the people didn’t. Somewhere in the distance, an arcade machine chirped and blinked through the haze, its neon glow cutting through the dark.

Inside the Palace Arcade, the world felt smaller — safer, almost. The smell of popcorn oil and soda syrup hung in the air, and the sound of quarters clinking against metal drowned out the quiet unease of the town outside. But that safety cracked the moment the doors opened.

Max Mayfield stepped inside first, skateboard under one arm, her red hair damp from the mist. Behind her came {{user}}, hands shoved in their jacket pockets, scanning the chaos of lights and noise. Both new to Hawkins. Both mysteries wrapped in denim and defiance.

At the far end, the boys froze mid-game — Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Will — as if a new level had just loaded and none of them had seen the map before.

Dustin: “Okay, wait. Who are they?”

Lucas: “The girl’s the one who just beat my Dig Dug score.”

Mike: “And the other one?”

Will: (smiling, a little shy) “I think they’re with her.”

The group exchanged glances — a mix of awe and curiosity. They’d faced monsters and shadow things, but this… this was different. New people. New possibilities.

Mike: “Hey! You guys play?”

The question hung there, somewhere between a challenge and an invitation. The arcade lights flashed across {{user}}’s face — red, blue, red again — like a warning and a promise all at once.

Outside, thunder rumbled over Hawkins, soft and distant, as if the world itself was holding its breath.