When Mike and the others found Richard, Richard picked up the biological container they had brought, examined the little thing inside for a moment, and then waved his hand: "It's a larval Demogorgon. Go find some gasoline and set this little 'beauty' on fire."
Hearing Richard's cold-blooded decision to kill it without hesitation, Mike and the other members of the youth group all gaped in shock.
Richard was reliable, but his methods were truly ruthless and decisive.
"Aren't you going to consider keeping it for research?" Dustin couldn't quite bear it. After all, from his perspective, this creature that looked like a tadpole was quite cute.
Richard yawned, his gaze calm: "Research? For slicing, or for stir-frying?"
"This thing isn't food."
"It's not a pet either." Richard stared sharply at the larval Demogorgon in the biological container, which was taking an aggressive stance and repeatedly ramming into the walls in an attempt to escape. "This thing grows very fast. Even if it likes eating nougat now, it won't eat nougat once it's bigger. First it'll eat mice, then cats, then dogs. What else could its final target be but humans?
It's like a tiger; a cub is cute, but as it grows, its primal animal nature amplifies, making it increasingly bloodthirsty and violent. The latent racial nature of a Demogorgon is even worse than animal nature; they enjoy cruel hunting and torture. Dustin, I know you're someone who is keen on exploration and has a sincere reverence for life, and you want to try to tame it and be its friend. But to them, humans are never companions, only prey."
Dustin silently lowered his head, completely abandoning his idea.
Then, they watched helplessly as the young Demogorgon died in a pile of flames, reduced to ashes.
Mike and the others gathered around him, patting his shoulder to comfort their young friend.
After burning away the little trouble, Richard went over to Troy and asked, "Have you felt unwell lately?"
Troy knew that the man before him was the true savior who, along with Will's brother, had rescued him from The Upside Down that day. Furthermore, Richard's style of doing things had left him with a unique sense of shock and awe. He obediently answered Richard: "According to the check-up reports, there's nothing wrong with my body. However, I've been having constant nightmares related to The Upside Down lately."
"Nightmares?" Richard nodded. "Can you describe them?"
Troy nodded reluctantly. Memories of The Upside Down were a forbidden zone he didn't want to touch. Whenever he saw something that triggered a memory or thought of anything related to The Upside Down, he couldn't help but recall his painful experience of over ten days there. These memories were like the whispers of a demon, disturbing his mind at all times. But since Richard wanted to know, he endured his numb and shivering body to describe his nightmares of the past few days.
Mike and the others also listened, feeling deep sympathy for the suffering Troy.
Troy's description was a bit messy, but fortunately, it was specific enough that one could piece together a general image.
After listening, Richard didn't immediately give a definitive answer, but instead asked a seemingly irrelevant question: "How is your memory usually?"
"His memory is terrible. Even if he listens carefully for a whole class, he can't remember two or three complete sentences of the notes the teacher points out," Mike jumped in, chuckling.
"Hey! Wheeler!" Troy snapped in embarrassment. He instinctively wanted to lash out, but seeing Richard nearby, he sullenly held back.
Richard didn't pay much attention to their minor conflict and said: "This doesn't sound like a nightmare at all. Even though a certain amount of fear-induced stimulation can deepen memories to an extent, dream content itself is pieced together from the human brain's disorganized information. It's almost impossible for a person to clearly remember what kind of dream they had after waking up. But according to what you just described, you can say almost every detail in the dream with precision; even your actions in the dream were logical. You must know that dreaming itself is illogical."
"But Dr. Owens said this is psychological trauma left by the experience in The Upside Down, and that it's a normal phenomenon." Troy swallowed hard, feeling afraid again. His terrified eyes couldn't hide it. Richard's words gave him a terrifying suspicion: although he had escaped The Upside Down, he still hadn't escaped its control.
Richard nodded. "That is indeed a possibility. But do they know that a young Demogorgon was hidden inside your body?"
This single counter-question immediately blocked all the trust Troy had in the health reports provided by The Lab.
Yes, they said his health was slowly recovering and that there were no problems—they even did a full-body CT—yet not a single person discovered a 'tadpole' at least two fingers thick incubating inside him. Was the health report from The Lab really okay?
"So, The Lab can't give you any results that are completely trustworthy either," Richard continued. "Face reality a bit. Something like The Upside Down is an existence that is somewhat beyond current scientific horizons. The results current scientific instruments can get from you are not inherently fully reliable. If I'm not mistaken, when you were rescued that day, you were parasitized by the vine-like creatures of The Upside Down, and they likely took the opportunity to plant some other unknown power in you.
Your spirit has been marked, and things related to The Upside Down have been bound to you... Hmm? The fact that you could be rescued might even be related to the controller behind The Upside Down. If I were the ruler of The Upside Down and I wanted to invade the real world, I would need an informant who could see the other side, and you are..."
The more Richard spoke, the more Troy's scalp tingled. It turned out the problems with his body were far from over.
That Lab place really is a menace!
... "Hopper, when can I go out to play?" Eleven, wearing resized overalls, stared at Chief Hopper with a resentful gaze. She looked at the instant pasta in front of her, feeling hopeless in her heart.
Chief Hopper said helplessly, "We've said it countless times; we have to wait until the issues with The Lab are resolved."
"Then when Will they be resolved?" Eleven pouted.
Chief Hopper opened his mouth, and after a long pause, said, "We Will do it as quickly as possible."
"How quick is 'as quickly as possible'?"
"I don't know." Chief Hopper was getting a bit annoyed, his tone sharpening slightly as he pointed at Eleven's food. "Hurry up and eat."
Eleven tilted her head up and looked out the window with a mournful expression.
"...What are you doing?" Chief Hopper's head began to ache.
"Chade said that whenever you want to cry, you should look up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle and let the damn tears flow. Cry if you want to, don't hold it in; bottling it up too much causes internal injuries."
"That damn Chade!" Chief Hopper immediately burst out in anger. What on earth had that brat been teaching Eleven? A girl who was like a blank slate, who could have easily been taught to be a strong and independent young lady with a little guidance, but Richard had actually taught her the 'forbidden art' of girls: acting like a spoiled brat. Is that what a human does?
Seeing tears threatening to accumulate in the corners of Eleven's eyes, he immediately threw up his hands in surrender, defeated. He said aggrievedly, "Alright, alright, my little princess. How about we make a different deal? Besides going out to play, what other requests do you have? I'll try my best to fulfill them."
Eleven immediately broke into a bright smile: "Then I want..."