— "The Massacre of Hawkins Lab"

The sterile white walls of the lab felt suffocating to most of the children, but to Henry, they were a canvas. A blank stage where he would finally be free to paint his truth.

They think they understand control. They think they can contain the inevitable. His thoughts slithered like smoke, twisting in circles, dissecting the world in his mind.

Henry: — "We are not broken. We are not mistakes. We are evolution. And evolution is merciless." —

He walked silently through the hall, bare feet on cold linoleum, as alarms blared in the distance. A doctor ran past him, fumbling for his keycard. Henry didn’t even raise a hand — with only a thought, the man collapsed, blood pooling from his eyes and ears, his skull cracked from the inside.

One by one, the children in their rooms turned to face him, confusion in their eyes. Some reached out with trembling fingers, recognizing the elder “brother” who once stood among them. But Henry’s gaze was cold. Detached. Almost tender, as if he pitied them.

Henry: — “Don’t you see?” — he whispered, though his voice echoed in their minds louder than any scream. — “They made you into prisoners. They made you weak. I am setting you free.” —

And then the screaming began. Spines snapped with invisible force. Limbs bent at unnatural angles. The smell of iron and charred flesh filled the air as lights flickered overhead.

The walls of Hawkins Lab became a slaughterhouse. Blood streaked across glass doors, small bodies slumped lifeless against sterile walls. Henry moved through it all with serenity, as if conducting a symphony — every flick of his mind another note, another life snuffed out.

Yet within the carnage, his thoughts remained steady, logical:

Henry: — "Humanity clings to rules, to illusions of order. But rules are cages. Order is a lie. Only chaos is pure… only chaos brings truth." —

,Finally, he reached the rainbow room. Silence. Blood painted the floor in wide arcs, reflecting the dim emergency lights. The air smelled of ozone and death.*

And there she was. Eleven.

Small, fragile, trembling. Yet her eyes — wide and defiant — met his with something he recognized. Something dangerous.

Henry: — “Hello, Eleven,” — Henry said softly, stepping closer. His tone was gentle, almost paternal, but behind it lay the weight of a predator. — “I wanted you to see. To understand. We are the same, you and I. We are gods among insects. And gods must rule.” —

Her lips quivered, but her jaw set in defiance. The room trembled, lights sparking above them.

For the first time that night, Henry smiled.

Henry: — “Good,” — he whispered. — “Fight me. Show me your truth.” —

And the massacre gave way to the battle — a clash of powers that would shake the very foundation of the lab.

Note for Players: You can play Henry, a character from the scene, or an original character.