Chapter Text
On the cold, gut and gore covered floor, Eddie could still hear it all. As he lay there, paralyzed, stripped of life with unfocused, dull eyes staring at the red storm of a sky above, he could still register everything. He felt the small arms of Dustin, a boy whom he could’ve considered to be his little brother, clinging to his corpse. Eddie tried to speak, but he couldn’t talk, lungs and throat coated in his own blood, corroding in death.
His heart had stopped, that he knew for certain. It was an unmistakeable feeling. Possibly the first feeling Eddie could accept easily. He’d let the last ounce of air flee from his chest, felt his muscles slowly shut down like a circuit board with faulty wiring until he stopped moving completely, limp and helpless as Dustin screamed and sobbed his name, young voice breaking from such a forceful, upsetting strain on his vocal chords. His small hands shook him, tried to pull his heavy body up so he could take him somewhere to heal his wounds, but every attempt was useless and only upset him more, until his cries were just near silent pleas for Eddie to come back.
Eddie knew he had succumbed to death and all it’s external agony. It was impossible for him to get out of this position. Fate had locked him in place.
Yet, he feels hot tears splash across his cheeks, and they don’t belong to him. Then he feels shaky breaths against his neck, smells Dustin’s overpowering, childish cologne mixed with the grime on his skin as he nuzzles into his chest. Eddie wants to wrap his arms around his friend and walk out of this hell with him. But he can’t. He’s helpless.
He isn’t sure if it’s been a couple minutes or a few hours, but, eventually, he feels that warm weight lifted off him. Dustin spews hesitant, muffled apologies and goodbyes as he scurries off to join the others while he still has a chance. The bottoms of his shoes produce a satisfying crunch on the ground as he runs until Eddie can’t make out the noise anymore. And Eddie is proud of him. If their roles were reversed, he thinks he’d rather die with Dustin, holding him in his arms as he had done for him.
Or he’d at least carry his corpse out of the upside down for a proper, beautiful funeral. Eddie would hand his body over to Steve with sorrow in his heart, asking him to tell his mother and the rest of Hawkins what a hero he was. He wouldn’t abandon him, let him rot in a place like this. He’d come back, no matter which of the party had sacrificed themself.
Eddie didn’t expect much for himself, though. But that was just the usual. Dustin was only a kid. He couldn’t drag him out of here all by himself if he wanted to, and Eddie wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something happened to him because he was trying to preserve a man who barely deserved that kind of care. No, it was very clear to him now.
He was always meant to die alone. But at least he could say he died for something. The last few moments of his life had purpose. Hopefully it was enough.
So, Eddie waits. He waits for a long time for the last morsel of consciousness to leave his body. That doesn’t happen, though.
It isn’t until he feels the touch of something foreign on his foot that he thinks he may be granted peace, only after a few excruciating hours. It’s thick, heavy, and makes an obscene squelching noise as it wraps around his ankle. This touch alone allows him to move. His eyes water first, stinging from how dried out they’d been. Then, he splutters, taking a rewarding gasp of breath, making a gurgling noise due to the copious amount of blood lining his throat and mouth. Eddie looks down past his chest to see that one of the tendril-like vines is what is taking hold of his leg.
As he tries to sit up and fight it off of him, another takes hold of his left wrist, and shortly after he manages to react to that, his right one is obscured, too. They tug his arms outward to allow a fourth to cruelly wrap around his neck and pin him back to the floor as the fifth and final vine takes hold of his other ankle. Eddie pants, sporadically looking around for something to help him break free from this new prison. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮, he thinks, grimacing.
It isn’t as immobilizing, however. The vines begin to move, making Eddie pathetically shout, “Hey, hey, hey, what the hell is this?!”
The one wrapped around his neck tightens as he’s lifted up in the air. His eyes shoot open as wide as they can stretch. Disturbing memories, images of Chrissy’s defenseless body, flash in his head like a slideshow. He wonders if he’s going to really die this time, just like she did, as a punishment for running.
He’s kept there, stagnant, grunting and sniffling against the slimy, alien tendrils nestled against his skin. Like flowers in spring, a few smaller vines blossom from the largest one, and race up to Eddie’s face. He squeezes his eyes shut as they cover his mouth and nose, suffocating him. Eddie squirms and tries to break free, but he’s far too hurt, and far too exhausted to stand any chance at all. Doe eyes roll into the back of his head before his eyelids droop, body limp once again in the grip of the upside down.
**
A subtle spark of lightning cracks in the distance. Surrounded by red, a daunting, looming storm, Eddie Munson’s body hangs like that of a holy symbol, splayed against the glass stained front door of the Creel household. It stands proudly out of place in the sea of anguish beneath the man. Bats squeal in the distance, muffled by rumbling thunder and unnerving, unintelligible whispers.
When Eddie opens his eyes, the first and only thing that comes to mind is 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭. Absent to this side of the upside down previously, even the idea of it, he’s already convinced that after the tendrils suffocated him to death, he’d been sent to hell. He can’t say he’s surprised, either. He’d never been the standard type to waltz through the pearly gates, just based on his looks alone. There were plenty of sins that led him here, too. It wouldn’t be a shock if the devil appeared in front of him with a list of each one he committed through his entire, unfortunate life.
He groans as he moves his head, tongue swiping out to wet his lips. Eddie draws his eyebrows together at the taste of blood, spitting. That’s when he sees the overwhelming, overgrown vines curling over one another on the ground. He follows their trail, eyes falling on a variety of human sized cages made out of the same tendrils incapacitating him. Inside, he recognizes a few teenagers from Hawkins. They were only people he’d passed in the hall, kids he never tried to talk to or get to know, but he can’t help but feel a pang of guilt and empathy for them as he gawks at their gaping mouths and contorted limbs, bones jutting out from beneath torn skin.
This definitely wasn’t hell. But close enough.
He continues to look around. Just at his right side, Chrissy’s mortifying, deformed body stares back, life hollowed out of a once kind, harmless teenage girl that he could have gotten closer with if he hadn’t led her to her own death. Eddie tenses so hard, his jaw pops. Immediately, he turns his head and screws his eyes shut.
“Hello?!” He yells out, like an ass. Nobody answers, of course. He swallows hard, fighting against the tendrils trapping his wrists. Eddie pulls and wriggles, but they have an iron grip. Slime and unknown excretions drip from the vines, making his skin sticky and uncomfortable. It almost reminds him of a snake, the texture of their skin, but these tendrils are warm, unlike a cold-blooded reptile.
A question burdens him. After everything, why was he still coherent? Why wasn’t he like the other victims? Like Chrissy? He should be, but like always, he sticks out, different from the rest.
Eddie cranes his neck as far as he can so he’s able to look up. His heart catches in his throat as the same demo-bat creatures that had eaten him alive fly in an unsettling circle, grouped together with the thick smog high up in the fiery sky. He swears that he can still feel their tiny, razor sharp teeth digging into his skin, ripping him to shreds. The reminder of that suffering brings on a wave of nausea. They squeak and flap their rotted wings, sounding as if they were only getting closer and closer despite not moving from their current spot.
Panic sets in. He kicks and flails uselessly, wincing and yelling out at the sharp pain bursting from his open wounds, flooding through the rest of his body until the tips of his fingers tingle. For a split second, his vision flashes white, then he’s back to a chilling reality.
Eddie gasps as tears stream down his rosy cheeks, mingling with the blood stained across the bottom half of his face. He feels defeated, helpless, but something in him keeps him going, as if he doesn’t have another choice.
Squelching, again. Loud and off putting, Eddie turns towards the sounds, balling his hands into fists so tight, his knuckles turn white.
There’s a low rumble, like a growl, and Eddie feels his blood go cold as a beast, an alien like monstrosity he might’ve drawn up for DnD, something just like 𝘝𝘦𝘤𝘯𝘢, walks past his peripheral vision and stands in his direct line of sight, looking up to him as if he were the messiah.
It has no nose. That’s the first thing Eddie notices. It’s face is sunken in as if it were just a human skull replaced with piles of burnt, eroded flesh. Sunken in cheek and brow bones withhold it’s only resemblance of true humanity — regular blue eyes, glazed over. The rest of it’s body looks the same, except for the gut twisting tendrils hanging from it’s neck and continuing all the way down to it’s feet, moving slowly if you look close enough. Eddie scans him closely, but he gets stuck on the honed claws embedded in it’s fingers.
Eddie knows it must be the monster they’ve been calling 𝘝𝘦𝘤𝘯𝘢 from the miniscule knowledge his friends have provided him the last week. But, he can’t be completely sure. He doesn’t know what sort of nightmares are crawling around this place.
“Eddie Munson,” it hums, voice naturally guttural and low. Eddie can feel it buzzing around his skull like a dull headache. “You seem a bit perturbed. What’s gotten you so hung up?”
He huffs, lips quivering at the words spewing out of this thing’s mouth. Eddie gulps, forcing himself to look Vecna in the eyes. If he willed himself to stay behind and die for a town filled with people that wanted him dead, then he could face the monster that caused all of this in the first place.
“Are you him?” Eddie grunts through gritted teeth, red glistening on white.
Vecna tilts his head, taking two worrying steps forward, just a few feet from the man held captive. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean, man?” He questions shakily, trying to back up only to hit the door behind him with the back of his head. Vecna comes closer, shoving his face into Eddie’s, careless of any personal space.
“You are the 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬. Hunted by the people of Hawkins. Am I correct?”
Eddie pants, a few more tears falling. He nods. “Something tells me you already know the answer to your question.”
“So you must already know the answer to your own, then.”
Eddie scoffs, dryly laughing. “Guess so.”
Vecna lifts up one of his hands, gently stroking his cheek as he scans the features of his disheveled face. Eddie can’t back up anymore, forced to endure the touch. He whimpers like a kicked dog.
“Hm. Blamed for my work. I do find it to be quite…humorous. Do you agree?” Vecna asks, wiping a fallen tear.
“I don’t think what you did to those people is funny at all. You sick fuck.” Eddie strains.
“No, Eddie. I find it amusing that anyone could credit such a mediocre man for the work of a master. An entity of another world. That is certainly funny.”
“Trust me. I would’ve appreciated you taking the credit.” Eddie sniffles, stomach churning as Vecna refuses to look away from him, like he’s staring directly into his soul, soaking up every thought swimming around in his conscience.
Vecna grabs his chin, moving his head around as he inspects more of him. Eddie shuts his eyes, letting out a hiss. “Don’t worry. You will not be mediocre for much longer.”
Eddie’s eyes widen. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It’s been two days.”
“What?”
“You have been with me for two days. Remember? You died. Oh, but nothing really dies down here, does it?”
Eddie shakes his head, exhausted body beginning to tremble. “That’s not possible. I thought…I thought it was over. I thought they killed y — “
“I have survived worlds! I have created a kingdom of otherworldly, unfathomable power with immortal warriors that come back again and again!” Vecna shouts, spit spraying onto Eddie, who winces at his agitation. “Did you really think a little fire would kill me? That girl?”
The tendrils tighten around Eddie’s limbs, making him cry out in pain. He chokes as the one around his throat barely leaves enough space for him to breathe.
“I have survived her once. She is nothing but an inconvenience. And you will help me destroy her.”
Eddie struggles to speak, coughing against his restraints. “I-I…will nev…never help…y-you.”
Vecna hums. “What choice do you have? Your friends abandoned you. Oh, Eddie, they didn’t even stick around to carry your body out of here.”
The reminder aches more than the wounds and tendrils combined. He bares his teeth, snot pouring from his nose as he gasps. “No. N-no, they just….mmf…didn’t…have time.”
“You were there for hours. Waiting. Nobody really cared, Eddie. You were bait from the beginning.” Vecna pets his face once again, cooing mockingly. “A young child was the only one that cried for you. But it only took a couple days for him to forget. Is that what a hero is? A forgotten memory?”
Eddie shudders as he sobs, overwhelmed in every form he possibly could be. He heaves, thrashing around. Suddenly, the vine loosens around his throat, allowing him a big breath of air.
As he recovers, Vecna continues on. “You died for a town that hasn’t noticed your disappearance, and never will. You are insignificant, just as I once was. Nobody saw what I could be. But look at me now.”
“I. Don’t…believe you.” He sputters out, spit and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Eddie wheezes as Vecna raises his clawed hand, hovering it over his head.
“You will see for yourself. This chance I have granted you will soon result in your willing accomplice to assist me after you learn the truth.”
“I won’t. No matter…what fucking bullshit you throw at me. I won’t do it."
“I admire your determination, Eddie. But you forget. I know all of your thoughts. Your secrets. All the things you bury deep. Every detail of your existence, past and present. Now,” he spreads his fingers, claws spreading out over Eddie’s face. “You will always have a part of me in you.”
The last thing he sees before he is plagued with unbridled terror, is the fleshy, threatening hand of Vecna. His eyes roll back until they are nothing but a bloodshot white.
His mouth hangs open, but it doesn’t break. His arms and legs remain intact as well. However, in Eddie’s head, he’s witness to some of the worst, traumatizing memories he has experienced in his life. Some of them he hasn’t thought about in years, hiding it somewhere in his subconscious, but others, he’s thought about daily. As he travels through them all one by one, consumed by hours of each experience in his own mind while Vecna watches him suffer through it all in a matter of seconds, his nose gushes blood from both sides. As Vecna removes his hand, the tendrils also retract, and Eddie roughly falls to the ground as he comes back to another painful memory, one that is still happening.
He writhes in pain on the ground, gasping and crying as he clutches his stomach. Vecna watches curiously, tilting his head. Eddie glances up at him, scurrying away back to the door as fast as he can. He tries to stand, but is ultimately too defeated.
“I want an army. I cannot have a soldier that does not march with purpose. And you, Eddie. Your purpose lies within that which you do not know exists yet. But I do.”
Eddie sobs, pathetically curled up in a ball, covered in dirt, slime, and blood. His own blood that seems to flow continuously, endlessly, no matter what is thrown his way. “What do you want from me?”
Vecna slips his eyes shut. “Everything.”
**
There was a loud strike. A shake of the earth that happened so fast, Eddie thought he might’ve just passed out, a flash of black his last sight before he stood in the broad daylight of Hawkins, right outside of a donation center.
Bewildered, he looks around, searching for another human being. There isn’t any sign of that horrible red sky, or death. But there is also an absence of any real people that probably 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 be here, all things considered. There isn’t even a car parked outside.
He looks down, inspecting his clothes. Nothing has changed about his appearance; he looks the same as he did in the upside down.
Eddie glances over his shoulder. He sees the street leading back into town. Then he looks back to the donation center, clenching his jaw. He doesn’t understand. He thinks, or hopes that maybe, just maybe, all of this is a long, twisted, very real feeling nightmare.
Hesitantly, he walks towards the donation center. Shoving his face against the glass of the front door, shielding the sun with his hand, he peeks inside. There are tables with boxes atop them filled with clothes, toys, and other supplies, but still no other people. Eddie backs up, taking a deep breath.
“What the hell did I get myself into?” He mumbles, taking hold of the door handle. To his surprise, it’s unlocked. Eddie walks in, scanning the room. Again, like an idiot, he calls out, “Hello?”
Nobody responds. He sighs, looking down at the floor. A small trail of bloody footprints follows him.
Eddie starts searching around, drawn to a large cork board with endless posters and papers stuck on it, some overlapping each other. The closer he gets, the more he’s able to recognize.
𝗥𝗼𝗮𝗻 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝘆 𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝘀.
His heart drops as reaches out for his own missing person poster with a bloody hand, tainting it’s stark white color.
As a lump forms in his throat, tears thick in his eyes, he hears footsteps. Jolting, he turns around. His uncle Wayne shuts the doors behind him, making his way over to Eddie. The sight of his uncle only makes him cry harder, this time filled with relief, and he rushes to meet him, arms spread out wide. As he goes to wrap them around him, his arms just glide right through his body, as if he were a ghost. He steps back, eyes wide with shock and fear.
His uncle doesn’t stop walking, though. Wayne stops when he makes it to the cork board, shuffling through his bag to pull out another missing poster of Eddie. Eddie looks down at the one he has, now covered with satanic symbols and other crude doodles.
He follows Wayne as he sits down at one of the tables. Eddie watches as he looks through his bag again, this time pulling out the guitar pick necklace Eddie had worn the day everyone went to battle.
There is a burning ache in his chest as he watches Wayne weep over it. But then that ache turns into something else, something sour and bitter as his uncle’s sobs turn into hysterical laughs. Eddie yells, tells him to stop despite the fact he’s clearly a figment of his imagination. The image of Wayne dissolves, but Eddie’s only subjected to more.
He hears more laughter a few tables away. Eddie turns to spot Nancy and Robin, giggling and talking as they fold the clothes from their donation boxes. Growing angry, he stomps over to them, waving his hands in their faces.
“Hey, Wheeler! Robin! Heyy, heyy! Remember me? Fucking remember me?” He shouts again. They remain unprovoked, oblivious. It kills him inside.
Eddie runs his hands through his hair, shaking and crying for what felt like the millionth time that day. The laughter of the people he cares for grows louder, taunting him, and he breaks.
He storms out the front door, angrily wiping the tears from his face. Not looking where he’s going, he runs into someone. Eddie pulls back to see Vecna, and only feels worse, grimacing.
“Alright, you bastard, what is this?!”
“Your life.” Vecna answers dryly.
“Bullshit! This is some delusional mind game, I know it.”
“Maybe. It is a delusion in the way that it is a memory that doesn’t belong to you.”
“What?” Eddie breathlessly asks.
Vecna tucks his index finger under Eddie’s chin. Paralyzed, Eddie allows it to happen. “This happened only some hours ago, Eddie. Your uncle replaced that poster once again. Your friends carried on without you. And everyone is happy that you’re dead.”
Eddie chokes up, shaking his head, defiant and stubborn. “No. No, I don’t believe that. They wouldn’t just…forget about me.”
“Don’t let faith lead you astray. It is a lie.”
Now, Eddie shoves his hand away, fuming. “You’re a liar! You, all of this,” he gestures around vaguely, angrily. “I just want to go home. Back to Hawkins. The 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 Hawkins.” He whines.
Vecna stays silent, as if he is in thought. Eddie watches his unchanging expression, growing impatient.
“You are a part of me now. I’m a part of you. We cannot do this without each other.” Unable to help himself, he strokes his face once again, inching closer. “Do not forget what I have given you. Understand?”
Eddie swallows hard, slowly nodding. He responds with a desperate, “I understand.”
“Hm. Very well.”