I pick up the newspaper that sits on my porch step, thrown there by the paperboy. "Mɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ Wʜᴇᴇʟᴇʀ Fᴏᴜɴᴅ Dᴇᴀᴅ Iɴ Lᴏᴄᴀʟ Pᴜʙ—Sᴜsᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ Mᴜʀᴅᴇʀ". A smirk creeps onto my scarlet lips. Just the news I wanted to hear.

I pocket the paper in my trench coat and head inside. In the dim lighting, it's hard to see, but I spend so much time here I know the area like the back of my hand. The tall, slim coat rack isn't hard to spot next to the door, on which I hang my coat, revealing my sleek black dress to the darkness. I place my wide-brimmed hat on the top of the coat rack and my mask and gloves on the coffee table. Lastly, I slip the black stilettos off my aching feet. As much fun as it is being in my line of work, it can also be pleasing just to be myself in the comfort of my own home, no matter how small it may be. It's located in the middle of a long stretch of apartments. Everyone believes me to be a recluse, which is a good thing for me. If they don't know I'm out, neither will the authorities. Number one rule of being a ruthless murderer—don't get caught; be discrete.

I make my way up the stairs to my bedroom, ready for a good, long sleep, despite the fact of it being morning. I'd been out all night—the best time, when it's dark. I won't even bother stripping down to my underclothes as I typically do; I just need rest. It's been a long day.

I suppose my executive decision was smart, for I find a silhouetted figure waiting for me in my bedroom. "Who are you?" I inquire the stranger.

"We've met before, darling," the figure says, a man, a man I recognize but shouldn't.

"You . . . You're supposed to be dead," I hiss. "That's what I just read in the paper."

"Don't believe everything you read, darling," he says. "It's not too hard to fake a death."

I exhale, releasing any tension from fright. "How?"

"Oh, doll." He approaches me, stroking my jaw with his thumb. "How else? It was quite obvious you'd attempt to kill me."

I swat his hand away. "What are you talking about?"

"Honey, it takes one to know one."

My eyes widen, and I can see the outline of his eerie smile in the blackness. "It was you, wasn't it? You killed my brother."

"Took you long enough, doll."

"Quit it with the foolish nicknames."

"No can do, darling."

"Why would you do it?"

"Why do you do what you do?"

"Because I can't stop. It's become my sick idea of fun."

"You answered your own question, doll."

"I had reason. Whatever could be your excuse?"

"Same as yours, love. Revenge over a loved one."

"Parent? Sibling?"

"Lover."

"So you lose a lover just to hit on another?"

"Don't think of it that way. Think of it as friends with benefits."

"What are you implying?"

"It seems we're both masters at what we do. I'm sure we could help each other—act as a fill-in, diversion, decoy. Anything one needs, the other will be there." He holds his hand out, awaiting a shake. "Deal?"

"What's the catch?"

"Nothing at all. Everything's explained openly. It's only a decision for you and fate to make."

What is this guy up to? He seems trustworthy, but no one is. There's a strange glint in his eyes I can sense he's trying to hide. There's always a catch. He's just hiding it.

I hesitate before reaching my hand out to take his, curiosity getting the best of me. He grabs my hand firmly and spins me around, lowering me into a dip.

"(Y/N) (L/N) from Baltimore, meet Mike Wheeler from Hawkins."

"Let's wreak havoc."

And we seal the deal with a passionate kiss.

HAHA, KIDDIES, WEREN'T EXPECTING THIS ONE, WERE YOU? Well, I had it planned aLl AlOnG. What, you thought I was just going to leave you there? Pft. I'm not that cruel.
YANYWAY, I don't know if anyone caught that Kinky Boots reference (with a li'l Hairspray in the mix wink wink), but if so, I love you.
If not, I still love you. You like Stranger Things. That's a reason to love you.
Don't forget to REQUEST!!!!!
I added Little Shop to my fandoms, BTW.