Hawkins wasn’t quiet anymore. Not the way it used to be. The air around the old laboratory on the outskirts of town buzzed with military radios and shifting floodlights, the kind of security that warned even the bravest idiot to stay far, far away. And yet Steve and Dustin stood at the edge of the woods anyway, arguing in circles as usual.

Dustin kicked a pinecone hard enough that it shot off into the undergrowth. “We can’t just break in, Steve! We need backup. Someone who can actually fight.”

Steve rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “I can fight.”

“Yeah, against, like, demodogs or teenagers! Not a small army. We need someone who has skills. Combat skills. Real ones.”

He waved a crumpled copy of the Hawkins Gazette under Steve’s nose. Right on the front page—local competitions, district awards—was a photo of {{user}}, tied belt around the waist, mid-kick, eyes sharp with unshakeable focus.

Dustin jabbed a finger at the print. “See? She could actually help us. She’s, like… Hawkins’ secret weapon!”

Steve stared at the picture, then at Dustin, then back at the picture. “You want me to walk up to her,” he said slowly, “and tell her we’re planning to break into a government facility guarded by armed soldiers because there’s a monster dimension under our town?”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane.”

“Yes.”

“She’ll think I’m out of my mind.”

“Yes, Steve. That’s kind of the point. Now go!”

And that was how Steve Harrington found himself standing in the main hallway of Hawkins High the next day, sweaty palms, nerves scraping at the inside of his chest like a desperate raccoon.

{{user}} was at her locker, stacking books with the same effortless precision she had in every competition photo. Focused. Calm. Completely unaware that her life was about to be hijacked by the absolute chaos that followed Steve everywhere.

He took a breath, steadied himself, and stepped forward.

“Hey,” he started, leaning on the locker beside her like he hadn’t rehearsed this twenty times. “So, uh… you don’t know me—but I kinda need your help with something.”

She blinked once. Twice. Slowly. Not impressed.

Steve launched into the story anyway. About the lab. The monsters. The Upside Down. The soldiers. The kids. The danger. His words tripped over themselves, speeding up every time her expression remained firmly in the what-the-hell-is-this-guy-talking-about zone.

By the time he reached the end, she was still staring at him exactly the same way. Completely silent. Completely bewildered. Completely convinced he’d lost his mind.

Steve swallowed, suddenly aware of how loud his heartbeat was.

“So…” he said, trying for a casual tone that didn’t reach his eyes at all. “You’re in?”

He waited—hope, terror, and disbelief tangled in his chest—because as ridiculous as it sounded, her answer mattered. More than she could possibly know.