Chapter Text
The air was a thick, cold smog, and Jason asked himself again why he's here, right foot falling through a cobweb. The rest of the team must have gone home, by now; it was late, had to be, judging by the thin wane of the moon in the sky being his only light in this godforsaken woods.
He shuddered. It gave him the creeps. Maybe it was just because Eddie Munson is on the loose.
That's right - that's why Jason was spending his evening (valuable practice time, you know) trudging around in some creepy old forest. Eddie Munson. The freak bastard who took his girlfriend - his Chrissy - from him.
He couldn't think on this too long - images of Patrick's crumpled body appear in his mind; then his body, but with Chrissy's face. Jason felt sick. Kicked a tree.
His foot landed in water instead - he made it to the lake, already, it seemed. The water looked peaceful, today, even if water made him ill after Patrick; the moonlight rippled on it. Serene.
A boat was on the water.
Eddie's boat.
Swearing to himself ('I'm going to catch that bastard'), Jason peeled off his shirt, and dived into the water - and, shit, it was cold, stung at his eyes and his arms but he didn't care, not when Munson was within reach, probably hiding beneath the murky surface, cowering, waiting to strike Jason behind the back with his weird-freak-satanic super-powers. But Jason wasn't scared - Jason doesn't get scared.
No. Nuh-uh. Never.
It was his middle-name, in fact. Not scared - un-scared. Was that the opposite of scared, he thought to himself? Jason Un-Scared Carver didn't exactly have a ring to it.
He was getting distracted again. Maybe the water was getting to his head.
He peeled open his eyes - it stung, it stung, it stung - but no floating freak bodies were around; instead, some red, peeling thing that looked a little like a... he stopped that train of thought. God, he missed Chrissy.
Jason paused.
Did Eddie have an underwater supervillain lair?
He swam closer towards it, and poked it with the tip of his sneaker. It seemed to open, as he did it; it was some freakish underground lair. Maybe that's where they hold their cult gatherings! Jason pat himself on the back. He was just like that smart British dude - Shamlock, or whatever.
Jason pushed himself through, without further thought, as he tends to do with most things.
And he found himself on his back, on some cold, hard surface that was definitely going to concuss him later. He sat up, rubbing his head.
What the fuck, he thought. May have said it aloud. It felt like there was an echo.
It was... Hawkins. Well, Hawkins, but not quite - something was off; the sky was yellow-red, and there were weird-looking bats flying about the place. Eddie's demon pets, probably.
Jason snapped a stick off the roots on the ground, and waved it at one of the bats. "Munson's creature!" he poked it. It hissed, turning to him. "Yeah, you, you ugly fuck. Tell me where your master is and I won't hurt you!"
The creature stared at him with ugly, red eyes. Then, suddenly, it launched itself at him, and bit, hard.
Jason Un-Scared Carver screamed.
More and more of the creatures piled on top of him afterwards, and he slipped in his hurry to run, his head banging on the surface again - definitely a concussion, now - some red substance oozing out of his leg.
Blood. Blood was oozing out of his leg.
With a sudden rush of heart-stopping, frozen horror, Jason realised Eddie Munson was going to kill him, too.
He scrunched his eyes shut, covering his head with his hands (he remembered what Patrick's face looked like when he died - no way was he going to his funeral looking that ugly. What if angel Chrissy rejects him in Heaven?), but then there was a sudden relief of pain in his leg, and a lightness on his body, and he could hear voices, distantly, as if he were still under water; somebody saved him, he realised.
He scrambled his hands away, to look into the eyes of his saviour. What should he say? Maybe he could give them free tickets to next season's basketball matches. Or a free invitation to his Spring Party - God, was he a generous soul.
Eddie Munson's brown eyes peered back at him, looking equally disturbed.
Jason screamed again.
"Woah, woah!" Munson held his hands up, eyes wide in panic. "Calm down, Carver, okay? I can explain everything-"
"You- you-" fuck, Jason never stammered, not since he was little, "you killed Chrissy!"
"I didn't, listen to me-"
"You were going to kill me!" Jason pointed a shaky finger, accusingly, and stood up. Blood dripped onto his white sneakers; he didn't know from where. "You've- where am I? What the hell is this? Have you dragged me down to Hell?"
Munson made a face at him (twisted mouth, eyebrows drawn low like he was stupid), but then there was the sound of footfalls, and more people appeared behind him. Jason squinted.
"Harrington? You're part of this?"
Steve Harrington held his hands out, as if Jason were some rabid animal about to snap. "Jason, calm down, let's just talk through this."
"Stop telling me to calm down!" Jason couldn't breathe - why couldn't he breathe? He turned to Munson again, grit his teeth. His anger surged; there he was, the root of all of this, all his problems. "You murdered my girlfriend, turned Hawkins into some livin' hell-hole, and think you can just crawl away, huh, freak?" Munson didn't reply, so Jason grabbed him by the collar, shook him; revelled in the glint of fear passing over the freak's eyes. "Huh?" he repeated, louder.
"That's it!" there was a harsh nudge at his shoulder, and Nancy Wheeler - fucking Nancy Wheeler - was hitting him with an oar. "Put Eddie down! We're all going to be dead if you don't shut up and listen to us, so shut up!"
Jason, feeling rather intimidated despite himself, lowered Munson slightly. "But-"
"Shut - up!"
Jason dropped Munson, entirely.
A freckled girl by Harrison's side cleared her throat, awkwardly. "Listen, this is going to be a lot to take in, and we don't really have a lot of time to be speaking to you - no time at all, actually, we should probably get going," she spoke through her teeth there, and gave a strained smile to Nancy, "but basically - there'sanotherworldinHawkinswhereabunchofweirdshithappensandthat'swhatkilledyourgirlfriendandwe'reinthererightnowsoifyoudon'tlistentouswe'rebasicallyallgoodasdeadandalsosuperpowersarecoolcanwegonow?"
Jason squinted at her, dumbly. "What?"
A sigh from Nancy. "We'll explain on the go, just follow us, and don't say a word."
Jason felt suddenly, incredibly lost, and stood still as they all began to walk in the direction of some old house. "I don't trust any of you."
Munson shrugged. "Sucks for you if you die, then."
Jason followed after them then, angrily. "Yeah, it will, considering you'll pro'lly snap all my bones and- and take my eyes like you did to Chrissy 'n Patrick, hm?"
Munson glanced at him, perturbed. "That wasn't me," he said, weakly.
"Oh, sure," Jason sneered, "you just happened to be the only one there when she died. And I saw your satanic powers with my own eyes! Always knew you were a freak, Munson, but-"
He cut himself off with an 'oof!' when Nancy hit him hard in the stomach with her oar. "I told you to shut up."
Steve merely stared at him, almost sadly. Jason decided that he hated that look. "Eddie didn't do it, man," Steve said, and pat Jason on the shoulder, as if they were old basketball buddies again. "Trust me."
"You're really defending this freak?" Jason felt inexplicably hurt at this. First Sinclair, now Harrington? "I looked up to you, man."
"Yeah, if you could save your sob story for later," the freckled one said, and climbed through the door. The glass window was smashed. She landed inside with extended arms. "We kind of have more important matters at hand."
Steve pat his shoulder one more time, then followed Freckles in, Munson and Wheeler doing the same. Feeling sort of like he was being lead down death-row, Jason clumsily followed after them, landing on some broken glass with a hiss.
The house was wrecked.
"What the hell is this?" Jason felt like he was asking this a lot.
"Victor Creele's house," said Nancy.
"Victor who?"
"The first victim of Vecna," said Freckles, and everyone nodded, as if that was some simple, universal thing.
"Victim of who?"
"The thing that killed Chrissy," Munson said, quietly.
"So, you."
Munson had the audacity to roll his eyes, and Jason had the insatiable urge to throw caution into the wind and just punch the freak.
"Vecna isn't a human, Jason," Nancy said, big eyes boring into him - why does it feel like everyone here thinks he's stupid? "He's a creature, from the Upside Down. Which is where we are right now."
Jason was silent, glaring at his sneakers. This was all one sick prank, wasn't it?
"It's why so many bad things have been happening in Hawkins," Freckles elaborated. "'Cause the Upside Down is under us."
"This isn't funny," Jason said, and immediately recoiled at how awful and broken his voice sounded - he was meant to sound scary, not scared. He cleared his throat. "My- my girlfriend died, man, this isn't-" his voice was breaking again.
Everyone looked at him with eyes heavy of pity. "Nobody's making fun of you, Jason," Nancy said, softly. "We're being serious."
Jason didn't know if that was worse or not.
"So," he said, slowly, as they moved down the corridor, "if you're, like, not lying, we're, like... inside of Hell right now?"
Munson sighed, loudly, a quick, harsh sound. "What is it with you and Jesus? No, we're in the Upside Down, dickhead."
"Hey, watch your mouth, freak-"
"What? Scared we're gonna go to Hell, huh? Apparently we're already there!" Munson grinned, mockingly, and Jason wanted to deck him, beat his face into such a bloody pulp you wouldn't even be able to recognise his freak mouth. For extra measure, Munson cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "fuck!"
Jason did deck him, that time.
"What the hell is wrong with both of you?" Wheeler said, as Steve pulled them apart. "Unbelievable. Completely-"
She fell silent, head snapping to the right. Lights were flickering madly in the room.
Everybody shared a look, that Jason was not a part of.
"What?" he said, desperately. He prayed this was some sick, sick nightmare - he didn't know what was worse; the supernatural, horrific eye-thief psychopath, or being ignored.
They entered the room without answering his question, and all their flashlights flickered with the room lights.
"Hey," Jason followed them, brow furrowed in anger. Ignoring the Jason Carver? Not cool. "What the hell is going on-"
"Shh!"
Jason's patience snapped. He was shouting, now. "Don't fucking shush me, man, do you know who the hell you're talking to-?"
Freckles's face was pale, and Jason felt victorious, for a moment. She was looking behind him.
Jason's stomach fell into a cold, bloody, bottomless pit, and a burst of pain blossomed at his temple, before he collapsed on the crusty carpet and his vision went black, a sickly-sweet smile twisting his features.
The last thing he remembered thinking: these freaks are fucked when I wake up.