The ’79 Corvette purred under your hands — candy-apple red, polished within an inch of its life, and fast enough to scare the guilt out of a priest. You’d rebuilt half the engine with Dustin’s help, which meant it ran beautifully… and unpredictably.

Perfect for tonight.

Steve sat in the passenger seat, knee bouncing. “Tell me again why we’re chasing the thing that literally tore through two dumpsters?”

“Because it’s heading toward residential streets,” you said, eyes slicing through the darkness. “Because we’re closer than Hopper. And because someone has to keep you idiots alive.”

From the back, Dustin beamed proudly. “That’s my sister!”

Robin groaned. “We’re all gonna die.”

⸻

You spotted it first — a pale, too-fast blur cutting across Maple Street, its limbs wrong, its movements snapping like broken film frames.

“Hold on!” you warned.

The creature whipped its head toward the Corvette. A shriek like metal grinding against metal ripped through the air.

Then it sprinted.

Straight at you.

You downshifted so hard the engine snarled. The Corvette lunged, tires spitting sparks as you tore forward.

“ARE WE PLAYING CHICKEN WITH A DEMON?!” Robin screeched.

“No,” you said, gripping the wheel like a promise. “We’re winning.”

The creature leapt — claws swiping the hood — and you swerved at the last possible second, clipping its shoulder just hard enough to send it tumbling across asphalt.

The whole car shook.

Steve slapped a hand on the dashboard. “Okay, that was… hot. Horrifying, but hot.”

⸻

The creature recovered instantly and bolted into the woods lining the road.

“Shortcut!” you barked, spinning the wheel.

The Corvette shot off the asphalt and into the dirt access trail — branches whipping past, headlights bouncing wildly. Dustin was screaming in excitement. Robin was screaming in terror. Steve was gripping the handle like a man praying for salvation.

The creature darted between trees, a shifting skeletal blur.

“Little more speed?” Dustin suggested.

You smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You floored it.

The car tore through the narrow path, engine howling, each bump threatening to send the back end fishtailing. You corrected with perfect precision, sliding around a fallen log so close the bark scraped the passenger mirror.

“Holy—” Steve couldn’t even finish. “Where did you learn to drive like this?!”

You grinned, adrenaline electric in your veins. “Practice. And a few questionable decisions.”

Branches opened into a clearing — and the creature burst ahead of you, sprinting toward the creek.

Not today.

You slammed the brakes, yanked the e-brake, and drifted the Corvette sideways, spraying dirt in a huge arc. The creature skidded, confused by the sudden wall of metal and headlights.

“Dustin!” you called. “Flashlights!”

He tossed two from the back. You caught one with a single hand — never stopping the car’s spin — then aimed it through the windshield.

The beam hit the creature dead in the face.

It shrieked and reeled back.

You straightened the wheel, dropped the clutch, and rammed the gas. The Corvette surged forward, pushing the creature back toward the creek bank without actually hitting it.

Robin blinked. “Are we… herding it?!”

“We’re keeping it away from houses,” you said through gritted teeth.

The creature hesitated at the edge.

One more push.

You revved the engine — a thunderous, snarling roar.

The creature finally broke, sprinting away from Hawkins and back toward the deep woods beyond the creek.

⸻

Silence rushed in as you eased the Corvette to a stop. Everyone inside sat frozen.

Then Dustin whooped. “THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE! MY SISTER IS A SUPERHERO!”

You ruffled his curls, chest still heaving. “I’m not a superhero, Dust. I just… don’t freeze when things get bad.”

Steve looked at you, eyes soft and blown wide from adrenaline. “No. You’re something better.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s that?”

He leaned across the console and kissed you — fierce but grateful, shaky with leftover fear. “You’re a badass.”