Hazmat Suit Stranger Things Novels & Stories

They looked familiar and reassuring in their long leather overcoats and peaked star-decorated helmets, but a second glance confirmed Svetlana’s worst fears: their eyes squirmed with black spiders and the stars on their helmets were spiky and black instead of red. “Halt!” their leader yelled as Svetlana and Andrei retreated toward the entrance doors. The Patrolmen pulled out their electric torches, and their beams, dazzling even in the brightness of the foyer, converged on the two. Svetlana automatically stopped. Electricity killed the Enemy, but everybody knew that it was harmless and even beneficial to true citizens. Perhaps now they would see that she was no Enemy spawn, that her father ha

She then went ahead to pack her hair in an updo, revealing her slender neck before turning to her uniform. A corporate attire of black tight-fitting pants, a white button up shirt and a bow tie, coupled with nice black heels that were comfortable enough to work on and a pair of earrings for finishing touches. When she was done, she stared at herself in the mirror and smiled. Danica was beautiful, she knew it and everyone who ever laid eyes on her knew it. She picked up her bag, right at the same moment, her phone rang. Tristan was the one calling and for a strange reason, it made her heart skip a bit. They had been talking good the past few days till it was late in the night. But she never t

The crackling light illuminated the stranger as it burnt away the layers of healing skin, causing the fresh blood to sizzle on the surface before dripping onto the leaves below. The stranger was only a child. His young age was obvious from his rounded face and black spiked hair. His light skin was splattered all over with moles, partially hidden by his oversized blue longs and black jumper pushed up to his elbows. His right wrist was branded with a large grey armband that had a small screen and a flashing red bulb below that. His young friend had the same armband secured to his wrist. He didn’t seem bothered that the flashing bulb was giving away his position at all. If anything, he looked b

She can’t help but think of the stranger. I’m sorry, Mr. Stranger. But I guess, it’s a goodbye. Apollo Justice

The answer is ignorant. Ellthan took out something in his pocket, a necklace whose pendant was in the shape of a sun. Aiora is silent when Ellthan puts the necklace on, Aiora knows that the necklace is not just an ordinary necklace but like bugging and GPS maybe? "You don't believe me?" Asked Aiora sarcastically. "Yes." Ellthan replied annoying, making Aiora groaned irritated, he wanted to scratch the handsome face in front of him. "Come on." Invite Ellthan to embrace Aiora's waist possessive, take him out of the room.

“That’s what you said the time you dropped the shampoo bottle and it broke open all over the kitchen floor. We were skidding across the tile every day for the next three months.” “Shoddy craftsmanship,” she retorted, but caught the bottle deftly and studied the cloudy liquid. “What is this stuff, anyway?” She looked up and saw their instructors approaching. Both were dressed for action in the black uniform and buckled leather vests of the Haunt guard, but with the addition of red embroidered patches on their left breasts, possibly an indication of rank. The patches looked like Celtic knot work. Jayems also wore a torque around his neck.

"Conspiracy." "Obstruction of justice." The stranger nodded thoughtfully. "Reasonable." Then, with astonishing speed, he tossed something onto the ground. A small metallic sphere. Bethwel's instincts screamed. "Get back!" The sphere burst. Not into flames. Into thick white smoke. Within seconds, the stranger vanished. Gone. As though he had never existed. Bethwel cursed. His officers rushed into the smoke. Nothing. No footprints. No vehicle. No body. Only a black communication earpiece, lying on the ground.

‎I stepped into the building, nodded at security, and entered the elevator, still checking my phone. ‎No reply. ‎Still nothing. ‎I told myself to stop. ‎The elevator doors opened. ‎Laughter echoed from the hallway. ‎The kind of laughter people make when they forget where they are. ‎It was loud. ‎Too loud. ‎That alone was strange. ‎My people knew when to work and when to be serious. I had a strict policy about that, and I didn’t joke with it. ‎I slowed my steps but didn’t stop. ‎Maybe someone had just made a joke.

He looked at her outfit with confusion. He'd never seen his mother wear such a thing. She was wearing a form-fitting bodysuit in deep charcoal silk-rubber weave, supple enough for acrobatics yet reinforced at joints with kevlar-thin panels. A layered asymmetrical tunic dyed in muted indigo, its angled hem breaking up her outline under moonlight and a high, raised collar that shields her throat and conceals the lower edge of a half-mask.

“Stand up.” The figure hesitated — then obeyed. They were shaky. Thin. When they straightened fully, the cloak fell open enough to show torn clothes underneath. Not armor. Robes? Wraps? Hard to tell. Whatever it had been, it hadn’t been made for this world. The seams were weird, cut on angles that didn’t match human tailoring. Heather muttered, “I hate this. I hate all of this. I hate everything.” Baylee didn’t take her eyes off the stranger. “How did you get through?”