Chapter 1: The Arrival: A New Game Begins
The last thing Adam remembered was the sickening crunch of metal, the screech of tires, and the flash of a headlight that was far too bright. The world, for a fleeting, horrifying moment, had become a symphony of destruction. He had been on his way home, a late-night run to the convenience store for a bag of chips and a soda, a small indulgence after a long day of coding. One second, he was humming along to some forgotten 90s rock band on the radio, the next, a drunk driver had decided his lane was just a suggestion. The impact had been a brutal, final full stop. The pain was a starburst of white-hot agony that consumed everything, then, nothing. Just a vast, echoing emptiness.
And then, a jolt.
It wasn't the gentle waking from a dream, but a violent, visceral return to consciousness. A gasp, ragged and thin, clawed its way out of his throat, and he was back. But not back. The air tasted of dust and old wood. The light was a muted, grimy gray that filtered through a dirty window. His body felt different. Smaller. Weaker. He looked down at his hands, and they weren't his. They were the hands of a kid, small and thin, with dirt smudged under the fingernails. His own hands, the ones that had spent a decade flying across a keyboard, were gone.
A wave of nausea hit him, a potent cocktail of shock and confusion. He was in a bed, a lumpy, uncomfortable thing with a scratchy blanket. The room was sparse, almost prison-like. Three other beds, two of which were occupied by sleeping boys who looked around his new age. The walls were peeling, a faded blue that was now more a mottled, depressing gray. He was in some kind of institution. A children's home. A quick, frantic mental check revealed the most bizarre, and terrifying, truth. He had all his memories, everything from his 18 years of life, but they were encased in the mind of a 14-year-old. His new body. His new life.
"What in the actual hell? Did I get hit by a truck or a magic school bus? Because this is a serious downgrade."
A voice in his head, a cold, detached thing, responded. It wasn't a voice, really. More like a series of clean, sharp thoughts that appeared on a mental screen, like a holographic HUD from a video game.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED][UNIVERSE: STRANGER THINGS][CHRONOLOGICAL MARKER: OCTOBER 1984, JUST BEFORE THE EVENTS OF SEASON 2][MAIN MISSION: SURVIVE]
Adam blinked, his eyes wide. He wasn't hallucinating. This was real. He was in the world of Stranger Things. His mind, still processing the shock of transmigration, latched onto the one familiar element: the "System" interface. He had spent his life playing video games, so this... this he could understand, on a purely conceptual level. It was a terrifying, absurd, and yet, oddly comforting crutch.
[SUB-MISSION: INTEGRATE INTO THE D&D GROUP][STATUS: ACTIVE]
"Integrate into the D&D group? Seriously? Is that all it's got for me? Not 'find a way back home' or 'don't die horribly to a Demogorgon'? I guess I should be grateful I'm not already a brain slug."
His internal monologue was already falling into a pattern. A mix of dry sarcasm and gallows humor, a coping mechanism for a situation that was well beyond his ability to cope. The System was a cold, pragmatic tool. It wasn't there to hold his hand or give him a pep talk. It was a means to an end.
"So, I'm in a new body, in a children's home, in a town that's apparently a magnet for interdimensional horror. And my main goal is to befriend a group of nerds who will inevitably drag me into a war against said horror. Fantastic. Just what I always wanted. A hero's journey with a side of institutionalized poverty."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the thin mattress groaning in protest. The floor was cold and splintery under his bare feet. He needed to get a grip. Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford. Adam had always been a survivor, a pragmatist. His past life, full of small struggles and hard-won victories, had taught him to adapt. He wasn't the kind of person who crumbled under pressure. He was the kind of person who looked at a broken piece of machinery and figured out how to make it work. His new body was a broken machine. And he needed to figure out how to fix it.
A new screen appeared in his mind.
[PHEROMONE SYSTEM][CORE ABILITIES][LOCKED][A brief explanation of how pheromones will be his core abilities, to be unlocked through specific plot-related actions.]
"Pheromones. Right. So, I'm a walking mood ring with a tragic backstory. This is getting weirder by the second."
He knew what he had to do. The children's home was a dead end. A place where he would be vulnerable and without resources. He needed to get out. But he also needed to complete the System's mission. Befriending the D&D group was the first step. They were his lifeline, his connection to the core events of the series. He couldn't just walk up to them and say, "Hey guys, I know the future, let's go kill some monsters." He needed to be subtle. He needed to be smart. He needed to be Adam Stiels, the pragmatic survivor, and he needed to play the long game.
The day stretched out before him, a long, boring expanse of institutional routine. He spent the rest of the day observing his new environment, piecing together the details of his new life. He was an orphan, just a number in a system that didn't care about him. The other kids were a mix of sullen and resigned, a reflection of their circumstances. He was an outsider, even in a place full of them. But that was fine. He had always been an outsider. This was a new game.