Lunch at Hawkins High was a battlefield of cliques and cafeteria trays. Eddie Munson sat at the Hellfire Club’s usual table, ruling his kingdom of outcasts beneath flickering fluorescent lights.

“Vecna is not getting taken out by a single fireball,” he declared, hands flying as he argued campaign strategy.

A burst of laughter from the jocks' table pulled his attention, but he shrugged it off and stabbed his lunch with a fork.

“This,” he announced, “is what happens when demons control the cafeteria budget.”

A few laughs followed. Then Eddie spotted someone standing alone. His grin sharpened.

“Hey. You look either lost or about to make a terrible decision.”