[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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CHASING ALEXEI through the woods had brought Ana and Hopper to a 7-Eleven off the highway, which, in turn, had led to the trio carjacking some unsuspecting businessman named Todd. The yellow convertible they'd commandeered wasn't exactly subtle, to say the least, but, thankfully, the banana on wheels encountered no roadblocks before converging on Hopper's friend's lair. But, perhaps compound was a better term for where Murray Bauman resided.
Approaching the steel door, the police chief punched the buzzer with a thick finger, and the three waited anxiously. Eventually, static crackled noisily before them and an omniscient voice sounded after. "Look at the camera," it spoke through the intercom. Hopper lowered his face to eye-level with the metal encasing he'd pressed, only to be told, "the camera, above you to the right."
Alexei, Hopper, and Ana all turned immediately towards the indicated direction. She offered up a middle finger in salutation, while her mustached boyfriend threw out his hands in exasperated question. "Identify yourself," the speaker instructed again.
"Jim Hopper, Ana Thompson, and Smirnoff," Hopper verbalized for the group, gesturing to himself and the woman beside him individually before gripping Alexei's cheeks in his left hand.
With a roll of the eyes at his incessant childishness, Ana corrected, "his name is Alexei."
"Fine, Alexei," Hopper conceded, though he didn't seem pleased about it. The Russian's name rolled off his tongue with a distasteful twang.
"Surname?" The man on the other end of the communication system questioned, growing impatient.
"I don't know," Hopper huffed in an equally annoyed cadence.
"Family name!" Demanded the aggressive intercom voice in response.
At the amplified offense coming through the speaker, Hopper's patience seemed to snap like a shriveled and hollow twig beneath a heavy boot. "Yeah, I know," he shouted. "I told-I don't know, okay? Open the damn door!" Only stifling silence followed his little outburst as they lingered outside, the voice box going decidedly mute.
"What is this shit?" Ana questioned under her breath, side eying the agitated man next to her. "Where did you even bring us?" She had to assume the unfamiliar man was still observing them, silently, from within his fortress.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale, Hopper seemed to steel himself before proceeding. "It's alright. Don't worry." he promised on the tail end of a sigh. "He's a little bit eccentric, but he's completely harmless."
Boy, Hopper was 0-2 that day. When the front door was finally thrown open, it was followed by the sound of a shotgun being racked. Said firearm was then thrust in Alexei's face, who threw his hands up in surrender at the sight.
On the wielding end of the weapon was a bearded, balding man wearing large framed glasses, cut off jean shorts, a wife-beater, and...was that an open bowling shirt? "Name?" The newcomer demanded again.
