Chapter Text
A large majority of New York City, the police force included, knew the meaning behind the initials, W.M. - Wheeler Mob.
And if one were to notice those initials somewhere-the side of a building, embroidered discretely into a sleeve cuff, or etched into a piece of jewellery-they would be smart to keep their head down, or look the other way, should they accidentally notice something that the less intelligent would call the cops for; the police in New York City were mostly bought out by the Mafia anyway, with dirty cops working at every station around the city now.
For thirty-five years, Ted Wheeler has been the current Don of the Wheeler Mob, and being close friends with the head of the Mafia had come with it's perks; because over the three and a half decades that Ted had held his place in his family, those connections had allowed the W.M. to grow the influence and power they hold not just in NYC, but some of the surrounding suburbs.
His power aside, Ted had a knack for going unnoticed when amongst society, usually appearing as just a regular-if not boring-dad. It were only the subtle initials he adorned-the barely visible 'W.M.' engraved near the face of his Rolex, or the same initials on the collar of his polos, rather than the sleeves live anyone below him-that gave him away.
Despite his appearance, he was still deeply feared by those who knew him, but none more than his own family; his wife, Karen, and the eldest daughter, Nancy-who had the same authority within the family as a consigliere. There was the youngest daughter, Holly. And then there was the middle child, and his only son, Michael Wheeler-who would be Ted's underboss, but was "too scrawny and weak", according to his father, and his father alone.
The four of them despise Ted Wheeler.
Karen's hatred for him was the most earned - Even in the beginning, before she'd known the truth of his family, she'd noticed Ted's violent and cruel tendencies, and had been naive when she'd believed that his cruelty would never be turned onto her.
She'd been so, so very wrong. And by the time she'd realised, it was too late; Karen had known that Ted would never let her leave, that he'd find her if she ever tried, and that he'd...
And maybe, she would have let him do what she'd feared he may, to save herself any further pain. But, she'd also fallen pregnant quickly after meeting him, and couldn't bring herself to allow any harm to come to the life that had already begun growing inside her.
So, Karen stayed; through the bruises, the fractured bones, and the constant fear, she stayed. She plastered on a smile each day, played the loving and loyal Mob Wife, and did everything she could to protect her growing family from Ted's anger issues-always taking the brunt of it rather than any of their three children.
And she tried to hide it from them, but Nancy and Michael had always been extremely observant, even from a young age.
Nancy, being older than Mike by four years, was given a front row seat to the cause of some of their mother's injuries, until Ted had learnt to keep his issues more hidden from her.
With the position as Don only being passed on to the first born son in the family, Nancy knew that she had no hope of growing to surpass her father in superiority, so she tried to grow the ranks, and her strength, in other ways.
Now, Nancy was the Wheeler Mob's top gunman; a fiery woman with an eagle-eye built for sniping, and has been trusted by Ted to go on several private missions in other territories. Ted has even 'lent' Nancy and her skills to the Mafia a few times.
He probably wouldn't trust her so much if he knew she thought about the bullet going through his skull every time she fired a round.
When Michael had been born, Karen knew it was her chance-their chance-to finally start working towards their freedom from Ted Wheeler.
She wasn't stupid; Karen knew that the things Nancy had witnessed, even at such a young age, would stick with her.
When Nancy had been six, and Mike was two, the two females had been watching him play happily with some wooden building blocks. Karen's heart had dropped and tears had filled her eyes when Nancy had spoken in a soft voice without taking her eyes off her little brother, and definitively stated, "Mikey won't be like father."
And, at just six years old, Nancy Wheeler had been right.
Michael Wheeler-M, to those outside of the family, and Mike, to those closest to him (and still very much Mikey to Nancy, and only Nancy)-was not who he appeared to be to the drifting eyes of passing strangers; at first glance, most would see a lanky, brooding figure, that probably plays The Smiths on repeat. Then, some would look closer, and notice the expensive clothes that covered his tall frame; all brand names and a Rolex adorning his slender, pale wrist-engraved with the signature W.M.
They might notice the air of elegance and confidence in his stride, and if someone paid enough attention, they may even see the darker skinned, broader man that always tailed not too far behind him even when he wasn't plastered by Michael's side.
Lucas Sinclair was the said shadow; an observant and loyal protector, and best friend to Mike. More than that, he'd been like a brother to him ever since his parents had adopted Lucas and his younger sister Erica, after their own parents had been lost in a tragic housefire.
The fire hadn't been an accident, though; it had been a targeted attack, set alight by a white supremist mob that was usually stationed outside of the city-a couple of the mob's members had been visiting a friend in one of the suburbs that's under the protection-and control-of the W.M., not realising whose district they were in, before they'd followed Sue and Charles Sinclair home.
Luckily, Lucas and Erica had been at the Wheeler mansion when the attack happened, with Karen being close friends with Sue, and Ted with Charles-despite his flaws, Ted Wheeler did deeply cared about the people he considered his family, in his own heavily twisted way.
Ted and his people had managed to track down the perpetrators, with Ted dealing with them personally, before the rest of their entire mob had been tracked down as well, and either eviscerated or immolated.
But the retaliation and revenge couldn't bring back what had been lost.
As a result, Mike and Lucas had grown up together as best friends, even before the adoption.
Now, Lucas held the authority of a capo, but without the title. And Ted Wheeler had fitted him with a position that essentially made him Michael's unnecessary guard dog, and assistant, rolled into one. Though to Mike, Lucas will always be his best friend first, and will never abuse the power he holds over him now.
So, it does annoy him a little that Lucas has taken on his ordered position as Mike's protector so fiercely; Mike didn't even want this, it had been Ted's command as they'd gotten older, and it had become evident that Mike wasn't 'filling out' like Ted would have hoped.
Despite his lankiness though, Mike has what's referred to as a 'sleeper build'; his tall, lean body is still defined with cords of muscle, that weren't just for show. Where he lacks the type of mass that Lucas has, he's able to make up for in speed and agility.
His father didn’t know this, because quite frankly Ted's been too wrapped up in his own world to pay too much attention to his son over the past few years, but Michael Wheeler is far from weak.
But, Mike also know that Lucas likes feeling as though he has a sense of purpose as a kind of protector-even if those services weren't needed by him-so Mike begrudgingly allows him to occasionally watch from a distance, rather than sticking to his side constantly, if Mike wants to feel like he has an ounce of freedom or independence.
The Wheeler Mob have held power in NYC for almost a century now-even before the added influence that came with Ted's connections to the Mafia-and Mike was next in line the inherit the title on Don, and finally be the one to ensure his family's protection.
His youngest sister is still a teenager, but already proving her skills through throwing knives, and a bow and arrow as her main weapons of choice when practicing; she's even won a few awards for her archery.
Mike hates the thought of his little sister being so efficient and skilled with weaponry already; he never wants her to have to defend herself, and he's not going to allow anyone to get close enough to her to hurt her, anyway.
And most importantly, when he's the Don, he'd be able to make sure his beloved mother would never experience pain at the hands of another, even after his father was long gone.
Michael's mother is the light of his life, and someone that Ted obviously does not deserve. Ted doesn't deserve anything, really. But maybe, an early death...?
Karen is kind, brave, understanding, and has always been so supportive and proud of anything that Mike or his sisters do.
It should also be mentioned, that Ted Wheeler is a homophobic piece of shit. And Mike? Well, he's very, very gay. Does is father know this? No. Will he ever? Not if Mike, or his trusted few, can avoid it from coming to his knowledge.
Those trusted few are a total of five people. Maybe six, with Erica as an extension to Lucas (she'd definitely clocked Mike as gay-as-fuck already, that girl is smArt-with a capital A for ANNOYING).
Other than Lucas and probably Erica (definitely Erica), there was Karen (the first person he'd come out to), and Nancy (the second). After he'd come out to Lucas, he'd eventually told his friends-and technically his soldiers now-Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson. He'd yet to tell Holly, though he planned to soon.
One final, important piece of information: Michael Wheeler is nothing, if not devastatingly protective of the people he loves.
Which brings us to the present moment:
CRACK
Mike hummed contently through a smirk at the familiar symphony of bones breaking and muffled screams; the left shin belonging to the asshole that's gagged and tied to the metal chair finally gave way to the force of Harrington's bat.
"Get Eddie in here, I want some of this scums' teeth. It's a lot harder to talk through bleeding gums, too." Mike spoke to Steve as he leant against the cool concrete of the basement wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest-too casual and calm for someone watching another person getting the life beaten out of them, but this person was also deserving; they'd called Lucas a racist slur, and had mistakenly tried to push him into an alley.
Before Lucas had even bothered to react himself, Mike had heard the altercation from behind him and acted fast, coming up behind them to slam the man's head into the brick wall with enough force that he'd been knocked out on impact. Then they'd looped the man's arms over their shoulders as if carrying a drunken friend, dragged him to the car and stuffed him in the trunk, before bringing him back to the mansion to be 'dealt with'.
"Are you sure? It'd be a lot faster if I just-" Steve made swinging motion with his bat, moving it back and forth in front of the man's gagged mouth while the man whined through the dirty fabric.
"Yeah, you know what he's like with scum like this. He'll be upset if we didn’t let him have his fun." Mike snickered, rolling his eyes lightly.
Eddie 'The Freak' Munson had joined Mike's personal team after weeks of Harrington's relentless begging. Because despite Mike trusting Steve's judgement, Mike was still hesitant to invite anyone new into his close circle, when so far it had only been Steve and Lucas by his side, and that was partially because he'd known them both since school. Even after Eddie had officially become Steve's boyfriend—to be fair it only took them a week—it still hadn't given Eddie any footing in Mike's inner circle.
But then one day Mike had overheard Steve mentioning to Lucas that Eddie used to be a DM in D&D. Because the thing is, if Mike had have known that Eddie played D&D, he would've agreed to let him in a lot sooner, knowing he wouldn't have to hide certain parts of himself around Eddie.
And so, just a couple months after meeting him, Eddie had become not just one of Mike's 'soldiers', but also a close friend.
And yes, his Dungeon Master.
Eddie, as it turns out, also very much earned his title as 'The Freak.' The dude was into some weird shit, and would go to the violent extremes that not even anyone on Ted's team would commit. But, like Mike, he would never even consider laying a hand on someone he cares about.
Well, except Steve; but Steve likes it.
"Yeah, you're right. And I'm the one that has to cop it when he gets upset, so probably a good idea to let him to finish this off." It should also be mentioned, that Steve and Eddie are dating, and have been for several years. They were basically married at this point, and probably would be, if such a thing were allowed for two men, or two women.
Mike scoffed, then grinned smugly. "As if you don’t enjoy it."
"Shut up." Steve grumbled, but the blush was already creeping over his face, giving him away.
He was tempted to reply with a flirty "Make me", but he knew Steve would flirt a little too heavily back, and Mike wasn't going down that road again; he'd found out after a drunken night together that fooling around with a couple wasn't for him. Hell, fooling around in general wasn't Mike's ideal situation when it comes to connecting with others, but he also doesn't want to get closer to anyone and drag them into his shitshow of a family.
Even if Mike is nothing like his father, the dangers that come with bringing someone new into the family will always be there; once you're an associate of the mob, especially the Wheeler Mob, there's no going back.
So, Mike had kept his connections to the very occasional no strings attached, one-night stands. And always at their place, or a hotel.
Never his home.
Instead of replying with the tempting flirtation, Mike pushed himself off the wall, and replied, "I better get him before the scum passes out again, you know he prefers them to be alive and wriggling." He grinned to himself, quoting something that he knew Steve wouldn't understand, but Eddie would. "I've got to go talk to Lucas about something, anyway. I'll find Ed first and send him down."
"Mhmm." Steve replied, from behind him after Mike turned to walk back up the stairs, and out of the basement.
Michael hadn't needed to look far; Eddie had apparently heard about the situation and 'guest' from Lucas, and had already begun to make his way to the basement immediately after being given the information, and collided into Mike atop the basement stairs.
The curly-haired metalhead had just given him a quick "Sorry, man!" through a crazed grin, before barrelling down the stairs, leaving Mike smiling and shaking his head after the descending hurricane of chaos and controlled violence.
"Alright, fine. You win." Mike spoke in defeat as he collapsed onto Lucas' bed, having finally tracked him down in his bedroom after Lucas had seemingly returned from a shower-a fluffy, white towel wrapped around his waist, and a mist of moisture still sparkling his neat braids.
He sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light, feeling a headache starting to form at the base of his skull.
"What do I win?" Lucas asked, not caring about Mike's presence, or gayness, as he dropped the towel from around his waist to pull on a pair of light grey briefs, followed by red sweatpants.
"Set me up a meeting with that artist friend of yours that you've been bugging me about." He propped himself up on his elbows just as Lucas was pulling a white muscle shirt over his head, letting his eyes settled over his friend's abs for a moment before the fabric rudely covered them.
"Wait, seriously?" Lucas' eyebrows had shot up in genuine surprise.
It had been over three months since Mike had started looking for an artist for some mystery project that he refused to reveal to anyone, and he'd shot down Lucas' suggestion of his artist friend several times.
And it wasn't that he didn't trust his best friend's judgment, he did, but it was the fact that Lucas was actually good friends with this artist; and with the nature of their family, Mike didn't want to risk bringing anyone important into the home.
But, he hadn't found any artists whose style suits the design and aesthetic he wants for this top-secret project. And Lucas has tried to convince Mike several times to give his friend a chance; to just meet with him, at least, before rejecting him entirely.
Also, Mike's patience is limited and once his heart is set on something, he find it impossible to let it go.
And he needed this damn project to be done, like, three months ago (the second after he thought of it).
"Seriously." Mike confirmed, before he could reconsider.
"Are you ever going to tell me what you need an artist for anyway?" His brows were still raised.
"Eventually." He planned to show not just Lucas, but also Erica, Holly, and Eddie and Steve, with the last two being considered a single entity by their small group-once he'd found the right artist, and the commission had been completed, that is.
Lucas rolled his eyes at his vague reply, but before Mike could change his mind again, he asked, "When were you wanting to organise the meeting for?"
"Today. Or, as soon as he's available. What's his name again? I want to double check his file before the meeting."
"Well, he's out of town until tonight. I can call and see if he's free tomorrow, or if he'd be willing to swing by tonight." Lucas spoke, already walking towards the flip-phone on his desk. "But you'd probably have to offer an incentive for him to come on such short notice. And his name is Will. William Byers."
"William Byers." Mike spoke the name slowly, letting the words roll over his tongue. He nodded, "I'll give him whatever I need to, get him here tonight." He stood from the bed, then left Lucas' room to walk to his study and retrieve the file that Lucas had already drafted about his artist friend months earlier.
"William Byers." Mike thought to himself, "Let's see if you'll be the one that can help me with what I need."