Robin had nipped out during her break to pick up a few things she had promised to get for her mom, so Steve was left manning Family Video by himself. Luckily for him it was completely dead. Clearly it was too early on a Saturday for anyone in Hawkins to care about renting movies. He was working on the rewind pile, but mostly he was daydreaming.

After their rather serious conversation a couple of nights previously, he and Eddie had mutually decided to take their relationship to the next level. Not what he would have described as full-on sex, but skin on skin and hands everywhere. It had given him plenty to daydream about, and Robin had complained loudly that he wasn't paying enough attention to her after he had accidentally confessed he was thinking about his hot boyfriend, so he was taking the opportunity for what it was.

Eddie was currently at his place having a band rehearsal in his garage, since Eddie didn't yet feel comfortable going to Gareth's after what had happened with Jason. Steve was really hoping to hear some of Eddie's music live soon, but today was not that day. He could imagine how sexy Eddie would be in full metal mode, however.

When the door sounded, he looked up wondering if it was his best friend back already.

The pretty blond woman and her tall hulking companion immediately put him on edge. Steve had never seen them before. But then the man smiled, whispering something, the woman rolled her eyes and they headed into the racks like perfectly normal customers. Steve watched them out of the corner of his eye for a little while, but then told himself he was being paranoid and got back on with his work, although he did glance up every now and then.

"Hi," a distinctly sexy voice said, just after he bent down to pick up a wayward tape.

He stood up quickly to find the woman leaning on the counter. Once upon a time the way she was leaning to give an ample view of her cleavage would have had Steve flirting in a heartbeat, but there was something off that he just couldn't shake. Instead, he simply slapped his customer service smile in place and tried to figure out what was setting him off.

"Hello," he said, "how can I help?"

"Well," she said, smiling at him in a very unsubtle way, "my boyfriend and I were looking for something a little naughty for the weekend. Do you have any recommendations?"

"We have a good selection of R rated movies," Steve told her in full customer service mode, "so it would depend what you're interested in, or we have some adult rated titles behind the curtain at the back."

"Do you think you could show me?" she asked, leaning over the counter even more.

It was so blatant it made him uncomfortable. And that was the moment he realised he had completely lost sight of her boyfriend. As he lifted his head to look around there was a hissing sound and a sharp pain in his neck. Grabbing at it he ripped out something cylindrical, looking down stupidly at what was clearly a dart in his hand.

"Now you are ours," the woman said, American accent completely gone.

Steve's brain screamed Russian, but there was nothing he could do as everything started going dark. Warn Eddie was the only rational thought in his brain before someone stuck something that crackled in his back and all his muscled seized as he fell into darkness.

~*~

Steve came to with his fight or flight mode very much still active and he surged forward, only to find he couldn't move. Metal dug into his skin, bringing him up short as he flexed from head to foot.

"Interesting," said a heavily accented voice, "Subject A is conscious three hours before calculated estimate."

Blinking, Steve did his best to gather his scattered thoughts to figure out what was going on. As his eyes finally focused, he discovered himself looking at the same face he had seen as he passed out, only now the woman had her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and she was wearing a lab coat. Panic made him struggle, but he couldn't even turn his head.

He was strapped, crucifix style to some sort of gurney, almost upright, but not quite, by thick metal bands. The metal of what he was lying on was unforgiving against his back and he realised his shirt and vest had been removed. There was even a strap tight across his forehead keeping him completely immobile. It was difficult to see anything, but he could see wires coming from his chest, and a tube running to his left arm.

He was strong, but even his new strength wasn't a match for the amount of metal pinning him down.

"What's happening?" he asked, eyes frantically darting around at the flashing lights and computer equipment all around what he realised was a lab.

The woman ignored him, turning and saying something in Russian while she ticked something else off on her clipboard.

"Level 1," she said in English, giving him a look he remembered all too well from his last interaction with Russians.

The woman wanted him to understand, wanted him to be afraid. He was so busy trying to figure out why, his still confused brain ignored the man moving to his left. His error became obvious when something cold jabbed him in the side. He had just enough time to flick his eyes downwards to see a long metal pole when the man holding it pulled a trigger on the end.

A cry ripped from his throat as electricity scorched through his body. Metal dug into his arms, legs and torso as his muscles cramped, spasming as the cattle prod like device delivered its painful load. For long seconds he couldn't breathe. Something close was beeping wildly. It took everything he had to keep the otherness inside.

"What are you doing?" he gasped out when the weapon was withdrawn.

Everyone ignored him.

"No response," the woman said, writing on her clipboard. "Level 2."

Steve tensed, but it did no good. The pain was worse, his body convulsed just as it had before, and he was left dazed and gasping when the torment was withdrawn. He had no defence.

They got to level four before he could no longer repress the changes to his body. Claws ripped from his fingers, fangs descended in his upper jaw, and the room around him brightened considerably in his vision.

The female scientist observed him like some kind of animal, noting down things as she did, showing no hint of surprise at what she was seeing. Only then did he fully understand. They knew, the Russians already knew what he was, they just wanted to know how he ticked. The fear twisting through his body morphed into complete dread.

"Level 5," she said.

"No please," he begged, but they weren't listening.

He couldn't control the pain, he couldn't control his reactions to it. Then the Russian's reached level nine. Pure survival exploded through his brain. Everything vanished in a haze of pure instinct as his system screamed danger. Something popped as he surged against his restraints and he could move his wrist.

Someone was shouting in Russian as he struggled. He was fighting with every fibre of his being, and he could hear the incessant beeping of an alarm. With his heart beating wildly in his ears, he gave in to pure need until it felt like someone smothered him in fog. Between one breath and the next, the fight burned out of him. He could barely move.

The skin on his wrists and over his chest prickled and he had just about enough wherewithal to realise he had scales. He'd never done that outside the Upside Down before. It felt wrong, alien to the real world. Something inside him wanted to scream, but all he could manage was a weak moan. Even as the extreme changes faded, they left him reeling. He wished he could just let go, pass out, but his system kept on fighting.

"Inhibitor 1 successful," his tormentor said, ticking it off on her clipboard.

She looked into his eyes and smiled.

"Level 1, stage 2," she said, before turning to her subordinates and snapping something in Russian.

The strap he had managed to pull from its fastening was reattached and it started all over again.

He lost count as they tortured him, noting his responses at each stage of their experiment without so much as a tiny sign or remorse. They took him past the first limit, then the second before pumping something else into his system and doing it again. He was pretty sure he was in hell.

When they finally stopped, moving away to talk in their incomprehensible language, he could have cried. Maybe he did, he couldn't be sure. Half laying, half supported by his bonds he let himself drift for a while. The drugs swimming in his system made everything hazy. He couldn't think, couldn't do anything, but at least they dulled the pain a little.

"Remarkable specimen," were the words that dragged him back to a vague sense of reality.

The woman was standing right in front of him again, something he had completely missed happening, and she was looking at him like a hunter viewed prey. When the brute with the cattle prod approached again, all Steve could manage was a whine of distress, before the sadist touched it to his skin. The otherness burst to the surface as he screamed, and someone shoved something into his mouth.

Words were spoken in Russian, the pain went away, but the drugs and the aftershocks left his dazed and confused. He didn't even try and resist as hands touched his face, too out of it to do more than register that something was happening. Moaning he tried to close his mouth, but the obstruction was keeping it open.

At first all he felt was pressure, a pull on his jaw even as his head was held immobile. He didn't understand, not until the agony lanced through his head and he tasted blood on his tongue. The bastards were extracting one of his fangs and there was nothing he could do about it. At last, his overtaxed system had finally had enough, and darkness reached up to take him.