Chris POV
I turned off my motorcycle and looked around me. It was still a quiet town, just like it had been since I arrived here.
Honestly, Hawkins is just a calm and nice place for kids to grow up. But the people of Hawkins don't know about the darkness behind this silence. They don't know that something has been created…and trained in their beloved town.
I know about it.
The first time I saw the town sign that said 'Welcome to Hawkins,' I immediately understood that I was in deep shit.
My mother, or I should say, this body's mother really wanted to stay in Hawkins after the divorce. She insisted on living here because, in her eyes, nothing bad ever happens in this town.
What do I know about this place?
A lot.
Because I'm someone who transmigrated into this body.
This body… belongs to Dustin Henderson's older brother.
Which doesn't make sense.
Because in Stranger Things, Dustin Henderson doesn't have an older brother. He's an only child of Claudia Henderson, and in later seasons, he even sees Steve as a big brother figure.
So why do I exist?
I don't know either.
When I became aware, the memories I had were of all of us, which is me, my brother, and my mother already living in our new house.
In 1980, my mother divorced my father after finding out he was cheating. That's what these new memories told me.
When I woke up in bed, in this new house, with this new body, I also had another set of memories.
Memories where all of this, Dustin and Claudia Henderson were just characters from a fictional Netflix series called Stranger Things.
I can't say I was happy when I realized that.
The memories came one by one, flooding into my mind and haunting me. This body… was a rebellious kid. Maybe he was angry at his father, or maybe something else. So he followed his impulses and rejected everything around him.
That's such a childish act.
But I can't really blame him either.
I wasn't a good kid in my previous life.
The difference is… I had already grown up.
I can't act childish again, like when I was younger and didn't care about the world. That's when I changed.
The moment I realized this is a new world… and a new me.
My mother and Dustin were both clearly surprised by the change in Christopher Henderson.
Yeah… that's my name now.
The new Christopher Henderson.
Sometimes, I feel guilty for taking over this body… for living in a life that was never meant to be mine. Maybe that's why I chose to start over, to live differently.
All I can do is thank God for this second chance… for these past three years I've spent in this new world.
Anyway, during those three years, I've tried countless times to convince my mom and Dustin to leave this town. I came up with excuse after excuse, trying to push them to move away.
But maybe because my mother had just gone through a divorce… or maybe because her trust in me wasn't strong enough, I couldn't change her mind.
As for Dustin, he had already found his place here.
Mike, Will, and Lucas.
The nerds' little group… the same group that would one day stand against monsters, backed by their so-called superpowered friend, Eleven.
"…Damn it."
I couldn't help but curse under my breath as I stared at the Wheeler house in front of me.
You all can't blame me for this.
I've wanted to get the hell out of this town for years… but I can't just leave my new family behind in a place only I know is dangerous.
I leaned my motorcycle on its stand and took a deep breath, my eyes drifting back to the bike.
'Three years….'
Three years of dealing with this insane reality…
My gaze shifted to the back, specifically, to the saddlebag on my Harley. I stepped off the bike and opened it.
If there's one thing I've learned in this world, it's this…I need to be stronger.
So I trained.
I went to the gym.
…I practiced martial arts.
…..And I learned how to shoot.
Yeah… Inside my saddlebag is guns. And bombs.
Well… not exactly bombs.
They're Molotov cocktails. Homemade ones. Just gasoline poured into bottles and sealed tight so they don't spill while stored in the bag. Yeah, alright it's just gasoline in the bottle!
I checked the contents of the right saddlebag.
A Smith & Wesson Model 19 (.357 Magnum).
A Colt M1911 (.45).
A Molotov.
And spare rounds scattered inside.
I know it's not enough to kill a Demogorgon….But I also know this, guns can slow it down.
Do you think I'm going to fight a Demogorgon with a sword like Hopper did?
Hell no!.
Even though I've trained and strengthened my body, I'm not stupid enough to throw my life away like that. Back in my old world, what Hopper did was insane.
Sure, he killed it with a sword and with a bunch of kids running around from monsters which are a lot stronger than them.
But that was because of plot armor.
How else do you explain a bunch of kids surviving encounters with monsters like that?
Anyway…
That's what I keep on the right side, and the left saddlebag?
A shortened Remington 870.
Yeah….A shotgun.
There's a reason I carry all of this. It's a heavier weapon, with far more stopping power than the magnum.
I don't know if it can truly injure a Demogorgon…But I'm hoping it can at least hurt it enough and for me to make it go fucking way.
I gently touched the magnum at my side, feeling the cold metal against my fingers, and let out a heavy breath.
This is real…I'm preparing for the worst….
And the worst… is today.
November 6, 1983.
The day Will is supposed to be taken by the Demogorgon.
Honestly, I kept hoping it wouldn't happen. That maybe… somehow, things would change. But deep down, I could already feel it this morning.
Something had shifted, I should have had blue eyes in both of my eyes. Instead, this morning, I woke up with something different.
My left eye changed.
The color vanished, replaced by something else entirely. Where there should have been the same ocean-blue as my right eye… there was only black.
A pitch-black eye.
Cold…. Empty….and Wrong….
A different eye and a different vision.
At first, I thought it was some kind of cheat from God… something that came late, you know the drill.
Yeah…I'm pretty sure it is a cheat ability.
….Because with my left eye, I can see the Upside Down.
I've been seeing it since the moment it formed.
Which means Eleven has already opened it.
The gate… the black hole… the connection between worlds.
She's already created it, and I can see it.
Since this morning, my left eye has been showing me another world layered over this one. The Upside Down bleeding into reality.
It's… overwhelming.
I'm seeing two worlds at once and no wonder it's making me dizzy.
That's why I'm wearing an eyepatch right now. Don't worry, it doesn't ruin my looks.
If anything, it makes me look better. You know, like some kind of handsome gangster boss or something.
Yeah… I can live with that.
I straightened up and started walking toward the Wheeler house, acting like everything was normal, even though this town had already begun to sink into something dark and terrifying.
And there's no way I can stop something like a government project on that scale.
That would just be suicide. At best, I'd end up on some blacklist.
At worst… I'd disappear completely. I'm just an ordinary guy after all, stuck in a very dangerous place.
But at the very least…I'll protect what matters to me.
I pressed the Wheeler's doorbell, the soft metallic click echoing faintly in the quiet evening air.
A faded denim jacket draped over my shoulders, worn enough to show its history but still sturdy, its sleeves creased from use rather than fashion. Beneath it, a plain white T-shirt clung lightly to my frame, the fabric slightly wrinkled like I hadn't bothered fixing it after riding over.
My jeans, dark and rugged, bore small tears around the knees and thighs, not the kind bought from a store, but the kind earned from asphalt, gravel, and time. Put together, the outfit made me look like some kind of biker delinquent standing on their porch.
The Wheelers already knew me well enough to know I wasn't a gangster and so did most families around town. Still, appearances had their own language.
My curls fell thick and wild around my face, dark strands catching the front porch light softly. The black eyepatch resting over my left eye only sharpened the illusion, lending me a dangerous edge I never asked for but never bothered correcting either. My visible eye, steady and calm, held none of the chaos people expected from someone who looked like me.
And then there was the smile.
It wasn't loud or charming in an obvious way, just a small curve of the lips, easy, unforced, the kind that slipped out naturally. Combined with a face people liked to call handsome and a body honed from daily work rather than vanity, it had a strange effect on people.
(A/N: Ignore the piercing in the nose.)
I had already planted the image of a "good guy" in their minds, even dressed like this. They knew I worked at a workshop, that alone was enough for them not to question my appearance.
The Wheeler's door opened.
Karen stood there, looking at me with her usual warm smile.
"Oh my, there's a pirate!" she said, giggling softly.
"You look lovely too, Karen," I replied with a small smile of my own.
And honestly…
She really did look lovely tonight.