melancholia. [ ALTERNATE SPIN-OFF ] [ BILLY HARGROVE ]

iii. CHAPTER ONE

warning: mature language
flash backs = italics
~Six Months Later~

     Mary breathed heavily as she sprinted through the Chicago airport. She pushed past people, stopping short once she could catch her breath. She went to a newspaper stand, grabbing one out of it. She read the date over and over, not sure if it was even right. It read October 1, 1987. 

     "Nineteen eighty-seven?" Mary questioned under her breath. She put the paper back, turning and looked at all the people around her, noticing some of the new types of clothes. She started walking towards the doors, trying to find a taxi as quickly as possible. She rushed to an open one, knocking on the window hard. The driver rolled it down, raising an eyebrow at Mary. "I need a ride, to a, uh, a bank." 

     "Ten dollars."

     "Holy shit! Ten?!" Mary asked, raising both her eyebrows. 

     "Yes. Economy's rising, sorry, sweet heart," the driver said with a shrug. 

     "Great, uh, I need to exchange some money there, and then I've gotta go to a second place. Can I do that?" Mary asked, not too thrilled with having to pay ten already. 

     "Yeah, but it'll be ten more," the driver told her. 

     "Fine." Mary climbed into the back seat, buckling up quickly. The driver took off towards a bank, and they reached there in no time. "Keep it running, I'll be out soon." She pushed herself out of the car, going in to exchange out the Russian money for American currency. The bank seemed annoyed that she had around a thousand dollars in Russian currency, but she needed all of it. She needed more, but she didn't have a lot because of the flight to Chicago. She ran outside, then told the driver to go to a rental car agency. It wasn't that far, so she paid him and he left for the airport again. Mary walked inside, nearly stopping as she saw the sign out front.

     HELP WANTED: $5.50/HOUR

     Mary stared at it for a moment, her mind surfacing an old memory. 

~*~

     The Russian's rolled Mary through the hallways of their lab, the girl looking around the hallways in confusion. She had her wrists restrained for some reason, and she hadn't seen Hopper in days. She'd only woken up a week ago, and no one was telling her anything. 

     "W-Where are we going?" Mary asked, looking to the people around her. "Do any of you speak English?" They didn't answer again, Mary sighing out from the stress. She was eventually rolled into a room, and left in there alone. She looked around as best she could, hating how bleak and scary it was. 

     "Miss Henderson, we are going to run a few tests on you if that's okay," Dmitri's voice said over an inter-comm. 

     "Uh, no. No, I'm not okay with that," Mary replied to him. 

     "I'm afraid you have no choice. Deepest apologies," Dmitri told her. Mary gulped as the lights dimmed around her, a red glow surrounding the room. "We need your help, Miss Henderson. And this is the only way." Mary furrowed her eyebrows, and she suddenly felt her body heating up. She looked to her hands to see they were glowing red. 

~*~

     Mary blinked a few times, pulling herself back to her reality. She turned and walked into the dealership, stopping at the counter. The worker glanced up at her, then set down the paper they were reading. The title read, "Henry Ford II Dead at 70"