BILLIE JEAN ( eddie munson.. ) ✔

006. Color Me Your Color..

The Hawkins Police Station shadowed the ground in front of it. A lonely wind brazed the heights and flapped the national flag as an authoritarian solitude to overfly the absolute havoc wrecked inside the building by yet another tragedy to stain the image of the small midwestern town of the Roane County, as well as those yellowed badges of the police officers who had to live through these wretched times.

Calvin Powell never thought he would be named chief after the loss of Hopper in the mall fire, but most of all, he never thought he'd have to call in so many favors before he even graduated one year in this new position. The sirens on top of his car were an echo, the road back to the station was a blur, because Chrissy's deformed body was an image embedded with blood on his mind.

"It's things like this that change your view about a town," Powell sighed to his partner, Phil Callahan.

"Your view?" Phil frowned behind his glasses. He didn't understand. Not everyone had to understand, Powell imagined, because every person dealt differently with seeing the unspeakable, the pure evil. Some people wearing badges saw darkness and found purpose in being responsible for stopping it, others looked at this pure unholiness and got reminded of just how very helpless they were in this cruel world, roamed by lunatics like the Night Stalker more and more.

"Yeah," Powell mumbled, but did not care to explain any further. If his eyes focused back on the road he knew by heart from time to time, then they glanced upon a world grayed out by pressure of having to figure out what to do without truly wanting anything more than to go back to the quiet nights of 1950s, when he had the comfort of clasping his hands to pray and thinking that was nothing more than an extravagance he was asked to conform by in his household.

"Satanism in Hawkins...," Officer Callahan sighed, shaking his head. "Always knew that Munson boy was trouble."

"We cannot release his name to the press yet," Chief Powell cut his partner's passion short with the fact which made the steering wheel creak under his grip.

"But he's literally the only suspect, Chief," Phil turned his head to the side. "Him and his uncle, sure, but why would Wayne call the cops on himself? And we do have fresh prints of Eddie's all over the trailer, tier signs leading away... He killed Chrissy and ran away."

He couldn't exactly say that he was waiting for an outside opinion on this bizarre case, so instead, Chief Powell appealed to common sense in order to delay the inevitable need to do something about this fire, called panic, about to purge Hawkins. Twenty-four hours was all he'd give this situation before it escalated. He'd seen what the satanic craze could do to a town before, read about it in the news for years now, because this evangelical fear started way back in the 60s.

The Church of Satan, 1966. The murders of summer '69. Movies like 'The Exorcist' came and scared the country even more, gave mad men reasons to grow even crazier. Then came the Disciples of the Ram, the rising cases of demonic possession, the hauntings, and just last year, while Hawkins was still mourning after the Starcourt fire, Richard Ramirez was caught too. The world was growing crazier by the day.

Cal Powell swore a silent oath to not let the madness turn this town any grayer. He swore it to himself and to the memory of Hopper to try and cling to his prayers but also protect the little joys of living in a small town so that hopefully, these children still got their moments of happiness, of running around after sundown to play, instead of hiding in their homes, scared of shadows.

"Until we have more conclusive proof, we cannot go public about anything related to the ongoing investigation. Those are the rules," Chief Powell reminded his partner and finally pulled over in his reserved spot before the station. The tires creaked, the break was pulled and a few doors away, they were greeted by Florence.