[COMPLETED UNTIL SEASON 5]
Ana Thompson always seems to wind up in the strangest predicaments...
A perpetual victim of Murphy's Law, Ana finds herself arriving in Hawkins, Indiana just prior to the events of November 6th, 1983.
And, just prior to f...
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DAMN. Apparently, it really had been some grand government scheme after all. Ana accepted she'd have to apologize to Hopper at some point for calling him a crazed conspiracy theorist, even if it had only been in her mind.
Once Hopper's Blazer skidded to a halt outside the mayor's office, the pair swiftly exited the vehicle. Ana followed suit as the police chief lumbered up the walkway, his gait filled with barely contained rage and purpose. This tough demeanor was somewhat diminished by his harsh breathing and pained grumbles, though. He was making an outward show of strength, even if his physical being was anything but at the moment.
Barging into Kline's office without invitation, Hopper asked the receptionist, "hey, is he in?" But, allowed no time for the woman behind the desk to formulate a succinct response, before forcing the mayor's door open. The sound of a lock clicking into place behind him was a subtle warning of the events preparing to unfold.
Ana remained outside the locked door, with a suddenly highly agitated Candice. The two women appraised one another from behind squinted eyes, each standing stoutly at opposite ends of the large wooden desk. Ana was confident she could take on the secretary if necessary, and the thought brought with it a cocky smile.
For a mayor's office, the walls were surprisingly thin, which allowed Ana to eavesdrop on the conversation happening in the next room. It was all pretty mundane, Hopper asking about the motorcycle man, Kline deflecting, albeit poorly. That is, until accusations started to fly between the two men like sparks from a welding arc. Apparently, the mayor had a penchant for nose candy and banging his assistant, how very cliche of him. In response to Hopper's scathing indictments, Larry began sarcastically commenting on the law enforcement officer's prescription drug habit and previous predilection for drinking on the job. The conversation took a turn from bad to worse, though, when Kline uttered the phrase, "oh, and please, don't give me that dead daughter sob story, 'cause I just don't care."
"Oh shit!" Ana audibly muttered from behind the closed door. Dead daughter was a no tread territory, everyone with half a brain knew that. Although, it seemed Kline was woefully lacking in the common sense department.
What followed the mayor's tone-deaf remark was a bombardment of bangs and shouts from within the locked office. Ana leaned her hip on the reception desk and watched on in mild amusement as Candice tried, frivolously, to open the door to no avail. From the sound of it, Hopper had broken Larry's nose, and Ana couldn't have been prouder.
Candice, after seemingly accepting that she couldn't force the door open, returned to her desk and picked the phone up from where it sat on the off-white plastic receiver. Not today, bitch, Ana thought as she grabbed the whole set and ripped it entirely from the wall. Throwing the contraption to the floor, she stomped on it a few times for good measure, watching bits of plastic fly here and there. The secretary wasn't getting any more use out of that particular phone that today, that much was sure.
