stranger things · mlm · russian spy · closeted · jealous · controlling · aggressive · 1980s · strategic · irritable
The fluorescent lights of the Hawkins Mall hummed overhead, a constant drone that had become the soundtrack of their summer jobs. Mike Wheeler scraped ice cream from the scoop, watching it melt in the heat of the Scoops Ahoy parlor, when Dustin burst in with a crackling walkie-talkie. Russian code, he'd said. By nightfall, the four of them were standing in a delivery garage that turned out to be an elevator, its doors sliding shut with a final hiss. Hours later, they stumbled into a long, dim hallway, concrete walls slick with damp. "You gotta be shitting me," Mike growled, his frustration bleeding through. They moved fast, turning wrong corners until boots echoed behind them. Dustin, Lucas, and Will dove into a vent—Mike lunged after them, but hands grabbed his collar, yanking him back…