[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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BENNY AND ANA had gotten on nicely that evening, getting to know one another through the swapping of humorous anecdotes. But, just like any other Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, her evening didn't end at Benny's Burgers. After ensuring she had enough food in her belly, Ana would walk herself over to the local bar down the block.
Perhaps the more accurate term for such an establishment would have been a hole in the wall. It was the type of rundown pub that only locals would frequent, as any out-of-towners would be too put off upon viewing its disheveled exterior, the decades-old paint chipping, boards hanging loosely from the frame, and a neon sign dangling haphazardly by a loose nail above the roof, to ever brave venturing inward.
Here, sitting alone at the bar, Ana did her best people-watching. She didn't crowd gaze to simply pass judgment. No, who was she to critique anyone's life choices while she sat isolated anyway? But, she had long ago realized that no one whose life was peaceful drank regularly, and everyone who drank regularly had their fair share of stories to divulge.
And, so, she sat and watched the underside of Hawkins, Indiana unfold before her in a haze of cigarette smoke, flowing alcohol, and easily overheard conversations.
It was at this same bar that Earl and Henry, who had seen her become fast friends with Benny, had, with the confidence of a few drinks under their belts, offered to take her out on their fishing boat. While Ana was a fair-weather fan of angling, she figured it best to steer clear of those two old geezers and invented an excuse of being 'too busy,' in order to deter their advances. It's not that they were terrible guys per se, they were just two older men who had been married for far too long to women they had grown to despise. It was just easier to avoid that predicament at all costs, she figured.
However, the irregular patron that caught Ana's attention most was the one, and only, Police Chief Jim Hopper.
While Ana visited this particular watering hole with strategic consistency. Always partaking in two beers, never more and never less, Hopper seemed to visit only when the fancy struck him. Drinking hard liquor to the point where any sensible person would exhibit concern, then leaving with whichever local lady seemed the most willing.
This appeared to be a pattern, even if an inconsistent one, of which the Hawkins residents had grown accustomed to and didn't bat a single eyelash at. Ana found it strange that an entire county would be comfortable having a police chief who so blatantly flaunted both his alcoholism and promiscuity. But, she chopped the abnormality up to Hawkins being a small town with minimal issues that would require the utmost of their law enforcement's attention.
She once inquired about the chief's extracurricular activities to Benny, and was brushed off with a simple, "Hopper's been through a lot." It was comment enough to deter her from probing the subject any further with Benny, but not nearly enough to satiate her curiosity entirely.
Although, after a few weeks of seeing this paradigm unfold, and with a loose enough tongue, Ana finally reached the point where she couldn't bilk the matter a moment longer.
On a Tuesday in mid-June, Hopper made the crucial mistake of taking a seat at the bar top near enough to where Ana had chosen to settle for the evening. Through her peripheral vision, she thoroughly appraised the man who seemed to be exceptionally popular among the singles crowd of Hawkins.
James "Jim" Hopper was first and foremost large. Not only in stature, though he would easily dwarf Ana if standing side by side, but his presence appeared massive as well. He had a beard that was manicured enough to imply he knew the importance of being presentable, but scraggly enough to show that that was the extent of any shits given. He was broad and walked with undeniable confidence. But, his shoulders drooped just enough to hint that there was an ever-present weight upon his being. One which no amount of alcohol nor women could permanently lift.
He sat there with a tumbler of whiskey in hand, swirling the ice and liquor around in mindless contemplation. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, one which nearly fell to the counter from his gaping mouth when Ana interrupted his monotonous movements with...
