Stranger Things Mr Clarke Novels & Stories

I took one last look at myself in the mirror before heading downstairs. I wasn't hungry but I needed to eat so I grabbed an apple. I plumped myself on the living room couch, no way I was going to school today. I turned on the TV and put on Empire, I was going to watch as many episodes as I could. I'm not interacting with the world today. As I'm about to switch off my phone for a couple of hours, a text from Tristan came in. "Mr Clarke just got into an accident outside school. It's pretty bad, I think he's dead."

That was like killing two birds with one stone. Mr. X furrowed his brows a bit. “The Professor doesn't stay in one place for even a month. That was six months ago,” he said. The professor? Was that supposed to be my dad? Why was he even a professor if they were looking for him? I was lost for a second and only came back to my senses when Mr. X called my name. “Um… yeah! That's why I said the last time I saw him. He barely contacts me. He says it's to keep me safe,” I said.

“You’re… mysterious.” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “You like that about me, don’t you?” “Maybe a little,” I admitted. “But it also drives me crazy. I want to know you, Evan, all of you.” He sighed, his playful demeanor dimming slightly. “Clara, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. It’s just that… there are things about me that aren’t easy to talk about.” I tilted my head, studying him. “Like what?”

Eva exclaimed and Alex realized that there was some hint of truth in her words, she was a very persistent girl, and if she did not want to be found, she wouldn't even if they turned the entire city upside down. Just then, Mr. Zander Clint strutted out of the hall accompanied by his bodyguards, he furrowed his brow with a dark stare that was piercing at Mr. Alex and Alex knew that he was in for some trouble.

He reached out his hand and snapped his fingers while saying, “Show Mr. Wood out and take good care of him.” In an instant, two bodyguards in black suits walked over and supported a limp Branson, dragging him out of the ancient theater building. “Clarke, you’ll die a horrible death! “I’ll never let you go even if I become a ghost!” The shouts outside the door rang incessantly. All the people in the ancient theater were silent at this moment. They had witnessed everything just now. They were shocked! Chilled to the bones! It was horrifying! Who was this Mr. Clarke?

Marcus never called three times in a row unless the world was ending. Adrian swiped the screen. "What?" "Sir, it's the Clarke faction. Harris Clarke didn't go to the office. He went to the estate in the hills. Your parents' house." Adrian’s blood went cold. "What are you talking about? Security is tight there."

I never knew everything will mess up like this in my life. There was Zander standing there with Clarke and Yeoman with those devilish expressions on their faces. "Ehh that was nice! I like it. Valley going to be dead the alley" Clarke announced. I gulped my anxiety clutching on the stick of my floss as the familiar voice hit my ear drums!

How impudent of the damned Howard! Once Clarke finished his cigarette in frustration, he grabbed his phone as he wanted to call Howard. He wanted to tell Howard to release Yankel right away or he would give him hell. However, right as Clarke unlocked his phone and before he found Yousef's contact, someone pushed his door open aggressively. The sudden sound frightened Clarke so much that he jumped. By the time he regained his senses, he saw his secretary rushing in, looking panicked.

Brandon then turned around but what he said next left me shocked. "They aren't coming to America. Mr. Clarke has called off the deal" *****

Anger blurred my vision, and I could feel my face heating up, a mix of embarrassment and rage. Clarke, who had been quietly observing the proceedings, stood up, his presence commanding silence. “Everyone, please,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “Mason’s passion is the backbone of Eternity. I’m here to help guide the ship during a storm, not take over. He’s still very much in charge.” I shot him a glare, the support in his voice sounding like pandering. “I don’t need your pity, Clarke!” I hissed, my voice echoing off the walls, my hands shaking either from anger or the drugs.