Chapter Text
it is a normal monday in hawkins.
the sun spills through the tall windows of the daily planet, warm and golden, catching on dust particles that float lazily through the air. somewhere outside, birds are chirping like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong, like hawkins isn’t currently dealing with a spike in crime that has half the city on edge.
inside, the newsroom hums.
phones ringing. keyboards clacking. low conversations blending together into a constant buzz of urgency.
and at her desk, jane eleanor hopper sits with a pen in her hand, tapping it lightly against a stack of unfinished notes.
her eyes flick across the page in front of her, but she isn’t really reading it.
she’s thinking.
recently, crime in hawkins hasn’t just increased—it’s escalated. more violent. more frequent. more… organized.
and at the center of it all:
henry creel.
the name alone makes her jaw tighten slightly.
no one knows exactly what he’s planning, but el can feel it—something bigger is coming. something worse. and she refuses to sit around and wait for it to happen.
she leans back in her chair slightly, exhaling through her nose, already running through possible leads, possible interviews, possible angles—
“you are not going to believe what i just got.”
el doesn’t even need to look up.
a small smile tugs at her lips anyway.
“what?” she asks, finally glancing over.
max mayfield is already pulling her camera strap over her head, eyes bright, practically buzzing with excitement as she steps up beside el’s desk.
“i snagged access to a new crime scene,” max says, lowering her voice just slightly, like it’s some kind of secret. “like—fresh. barely even taped off yet.”
el straightens a little in her chair now, interest immediately sparked.
“you’re kidding.”
“i wish i was,” max grins. “and i got pictures.”
that does it.
el’s pen is forgotten as she leans forward, her curiosity fully hooked.
“can i see them?”
“of course.”
max doesn’t hesitate. she moves quickly, popping open her camera and scrolling through before angling it toward el.
el leans in closer, eyes scanning each image carefully.
and then—
“holy crap,” she breathes.
the pictures are sharp. detailed. chaotic in a way that tells a story all on their own.
damage patterns. debris. the kind of evidence that people usually miss unless they’re looking for it.
these aren’t just good.
they’re gold.
“i know, right?” max says, clearly pleased with herself.
el shakes her head slightly, still staring.
“these are insane.”
she finally looks up.
“so what are you going to do with them?”
max shrugs, but there’s something intentional in the way she says, “well… i wanted to bring them to you first.”
el raises an eyebrow slightly.
“me?”
“yeah,” max says. “i figured you could try to get interviews with witnesses—people who were actually there—and then we could go to lucas together. pitch the whole thing as one piece.”
el considers that for a second.
it’s not a bad idea.
actually… it’s a really good one.
but still—
“yeah, okay,” she says slowly, “but why can’t you just bring the pictures and a report to him yourself? i mean… you do know he favors you, right?”
max lets out a small laugh at that, shaking her head.
“yeah, yeah, i know,” she says. “but that’s not why.”
el tilts her head slightly.
“then why?”
max glances down at her camera for a second before answering, more casually this time.
“i didn’t want to go up there right now because i heard he’s interviewing someone. for a new reporter spot.”
el freezes.
“wait—what?”
max shrugs.
“looks like you’re getting a new partner.”
a groan immediately slips out of el as she leans back in her chair again, dragging a hand down her face.
“oh, come on,” she mutters. “i actually like working alone.”
“well,” max says, completely unbothered, “suck it up, buttercup.”
el exhales sharply, shaking her head as she absentmindedly reaches up, fingers brushing against the necklace resting at her collarbone. she starts
fiddling with it, a small habit she barely even notices she’s doing.
max, meanwhile, has already gone back to scrolling through her pictures, still admiring them.
and for a moment, things feel normal again.
until—
someone clears their throat.
both of them look up.
standing there is lucas.
and next to him—
someone el has never seen before.
“good afternoon, ladies,” lucas says.
“good afternoon,” they both echo back automatically.
but el’s attention is already elsewhere.
on him.
she studies him without meaning to.
sharp jawline. thick black curls that fall just right. glasses that should make him look awkward—but don’t. not even a little.
and—annoyingly—
he’s built.
like… actually built.
el blinks once, forcing herself to look away—
but lucas notices.
of course he does.
“ah,” he says, a small knowing smile forming, “you must be wondering who this is.”
he gestures toward the guy beside him.
“this is mr. mike wheeler. he’ll be taking another spot as a reporter.”
there’s a brief pause.
and then—
“meaning,” lucas continues, looking directly at el now, “he’ll be working alongside you.”
el forces a smile.
it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“great,” she says.
“i’m sure you’ll all get along well,” lucas adds, already turning to walk away.
max steps forward before he can fully leave, holding out her hand.
“maxine,” she says. “but everyone calls me max.”
mike smiles, reaching out to shake her hand.
“nice to meet you, max.”
his voice is softer than el expected.
then he turns.
and holds his hand out toward her.
“and you are—?”
el smiles.
“leaving.”
and just like that, she grabs her bag, brushes past him, and walks straight out.
————————
el presses the elevator button, tapping her foot lightly against the floor as she waits.
she doesn’t look back.
a soft ding.
the doors slide open.
she steps inside, glancing down at her watch.
lunch break.
perfect.
by the time she exits the building, the air outside feels different—less controlled than the newsroom, more alive.
she walks next door, pushing open the door to the small coffee shop she always goes to.
the familiar smell of coffee hits her instantly.
comforting.
routine.
she steps up to the counter.
“can i get my usual?”
the barista smiles.
“sure. coming right up.”
el pulls out her card, paying without a second thought. moments later, she’s handed her iced vanilla latte and a chocolate chip muffin.
she takes them and moves to her usual spot—a booth by the window.
sliding in, she sets everything down in front of her.
but instead of eating right away—
she thinks.
about the new reporter.
mike wheeler.
the name sits weirdly in her head.
she stares out the window, unfocused.
how tall he was.
how sharp his jawline was.
how his curls—
she stops.
blinks.
shakes her head slightly like she’s snapping herself out of something.
“seriously?” she mutters under her breath.
she immediately grabs her drink, taking a sip, forcing her thoughts somewhere else.
food. drink. anything but that.
time passes quicker than she expects.
a glance at her watch—
and her lunch break is almost over.
“great,” she mumbles, already standing up.
——————————————-
the rest of the day moves fast.
too fast.
she clocks back in, heads upstairs, returns to her desk—
and notices something.
mike isn’t there.
she pauses for half a second.
then shrugs it off.
not her problem.
instead, she turns her attention to her computer, pulling up documents, organizing interview papers, focusing on what actually matters.
work.
and before she knows it—
the day is over.
people start packing up around her.
chairs scraping. conversations starting up again.
el grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she exits the building.
the sky outside is darker now, the golden morning replaced with cooler evening tones.
she starts walking toward her apartment building, her steps steady, familiar.
routine.
until—
a loud bang echoes through the street.
followed by shouting.
panic.
people start running.
el turns immediately.
no hesitation.
her hand is already reaching into her bag, pulling out her camera as she moves toward the chaos instead of away from it.
and then she sees it.
parasite.
attacking civilians.
el lifts her camera instantly, snapping picture after picture, her focus sharp despite everything happening around her.
people are running past her.
screaming.
but she stays.
documents.
captures.
evidence.
then—
a flash of red.
it happens fast.
so fast she almost misses it.
but she doesn’t.
her camera tilts upward just in time—
and she captures him.
a man flying out of the sky.
he slams into parasite, sending both of them crashing into a building with a force that shakes the ground beneath her feet.
el doesn’t stop.
she keeps shooting.
frame after frame.
the man is strong—inhumanly strong. every movement precise, controlled, powerful.
parasite struggles.
fails.
gets overpowered.
and eventually—
it ends.
parasite is pinned.
a swat team rushes in, securing him, dragging him into the back of a black van.
el lowers her camera slightly—
but then looks back up.
the man is gone from the ground.
instead—
he’s standing on top of a building.
watching.
then, his voice carries across the street.
clear.
confident.
“citizens of hawkins—i am superman.”
el’s camera is already back up.
click.
click.
click.
“it is my duty to protect this city,” he continues, “and make sure everyone is safe.”
around her, people start cheering.
some confused. some relieved. some just in shock.
but el?
she just keeps taking pictures.
focused.
observing.
thinking.
police begin guiding people away, clearing the streets.
and finally—
el turns.
walking quickly back toward her apartment building.
⸻
once inside, she doesn’t stop.
up the stairs.
down the hall.
into her apartment.
the door shuts behind her.
silence.
she drops her bag, immediately moving into the kitchen, pulling out her camera and connecting it to her printer.
one by one—
the photos begin printing.
she grabs them as they come out, spreading them across the counter.
covering every inch.
her eyes move rapidly from one to the next.
the fight.
the impact.
him.
the red.
the symbol.
her lips slowly curl into a smile.
not soft.
not casual.
focused.
excited.
determined.
her fingers press lightly against one of the photos.
and her voice is barely above a whisper.
“…let’s see who you really are.”
her eyes flick back across all the images.
mind already racing.
a new task.
a new mission.
unmasking superman.