⚠️: forgive me for yet again i have sinned in the name of google translate :<, one fatphobic comment from canon

📝: eyy writing this with the stranger things 4 trailer drop countdown in the back :P honestly never thought id have room for alexei and was super disappointed and scared to tell you guys. bUT GUESS WHAT EYYY 🤙bear with me here, I am making up for time skips that don't make too much sense the longer you think about them
+
New chapters out for COSMIC's bonus feature book STARDUST! Feel free to check out props (like El's headband!) and Y/n's windbreaker if you're interested in what I had in mind! I didn't want to force it on you guys so I kept that stuff separate

❓️: how are you guys so awesome??

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Impossible.

All of it, impossible. The gate had been shut, nearly at the cost of his daughter's life-he had seen it with his own two eyes, and that was just El's sacrifice. To this day, Hopper knew Joyce was still holding back the more gruesome details of that night at his cabin. Whatever Y/n Henderson and the others went through to get the Mind Flayer out of Will, it had been costly.

So many others had made such incredible sacrifices to save the town from the gate and the horrors it unleashed. Sacrifices they were still living with to this day. Hopper's previous conversation with Joyce back at Hawkins Lab briefly returned to his mind. It had taken so long for them to heal-they were still healing and would be likely for the rest of their lives. And now, to find that the safety they had tried for so long to convince themselves was true had been compromised since their last fight. This whole time, the gate had been chipped away at, undoing so much hard work and putting the world at risk while they all sat on their asses.

And their only hope now remained with their newest ally, Alexei. A scientist from the very Russian base working to reopen the gate in Hawkins. The man had been a thorn in Hopper's side since they nabbed him a couple of nights ago-he may not be the world's most dangerous criminal like he may have led some to believe, but he sure was a pill. (Joyce didn't see it). And when they tracked down his old contact Murray Bauman in Illinois, Hopper wasn't too thrilled to see Murray's lack of annoyance for him, too. It would seem Hopper was on his own with this one.

Even when the man had been jerking them around on his lead for a full day with his demands, with his 'no cherry no deal' bullcrap. Or his blatant lack of respect for the imminent danger they were all in, because hey!-- Who cares about the ultimate destruction of the entire world when looney tunes is on! Hopper wasn't still mad at that. It's not like he was one to hold grudges... But that was neither here nor there. The point was that Hopper was right.

This man was afraid, despite whatever act he put on to stay alive. He could have run, but he didn't. And even better, he told them everything. Okay, maybe he had been a little harsh, but no way did Hopper want to admit that. A couple of anxious side-eyes from Joyce and some glasses of whiskey later, and they landed themselves here.

Just how would they infiltrate a secret Russian base hidden beneath their town?

"The key, is there a way to turn it off?" Murray asks on behalf of Hopper.

The man had just taken a seat on the edge of the map-riddled coffee table across from Alexei and Murray on the couch. He tried to hide the evidence of his knotting stomach in paced breathing and clasped hands despite their need to wring together. Though they still did so without thought, Alexei looked between Murray and Hopper with a shrug and gave his answer.

"Конечно, я мог отключить его. Эдисон не мог выключить лампу? Белл не мог повесить трубку?"

"He says, 'Of course he could turn it off. Could Edison not turn off a lamp, could Bell not hang up a phone?'" Murray shakes his head to himself with an impressed simper. "Cocky bastard,"

"но,"

"'But...'"

"But what?" Hopper deadpanned, eyes set straight on the man.

"но что?"

"Я разоблачен сейчас," Alexie says with a sulk.

"But he is now...'" Hopper doesn't immediately understand the look of confusion flying across Murray's face until he finally finishes. "naked."

Hopper raises a brow at the scientist, who merely challenges this with a simple, unembarrassed shrug. That is when it occurs to Murray the mistranslation he had made.

"Sorry, 'exposed'. Compromised."

"Hey," came Hopper's earnest voice of concern as he pulled Alexei in close to meet his eye. The scientist, ever so lost, stared back into the chief's eyes desperately awaiting translation. "I will get you there. I will get you to your key."

His eyes remained locked with the temperamental American chief, even when Murray popped in between them with little disturbance.

"Он говорит, что отвезет вас туда. Он уверяет вас, что сможет безопасно доставить вас туда."

A silence. A small silence hung in the air hardly long enough to fill Hopper with the hope he so desperately wanted before it was all cut straight in half by Alexei's sudden and boisterous laugh. His eyes crinkled and his shoulders bounced, the sight reigniting the agitation in Hopper. He practically chucked the man back into the couch and glared as his giggles continued to fizzle out.

"You wanna ask him what the hell's so funny about that?"

"А что тут смешного?"

"У вас есть мужество. Ты как толстый Рэмбо." says Alexei, simply.

Hopper doesn't at all like the look on the man's face. Whether it's confidence, apathy, or a weird combination is impossible for him to tell at this moment. But it brings him no joy. And neither do his words that come shortly after out of Murray's mouth.

"He says he likes your courage. You remind him of a..." he clears his throat. "fat Rambo."

Hopper plants his face in his hands, utterly exhausted. There's a pit that's been growing in his stomach since Joyce and him returned to Hawkins Lab, and with every word the scientist spills, Hopper feels the pit crumbling away into an open chasm.

"Но даже худенький Рэмбо не смог туда попасть,"

"But he says that 'even thin Rambo couldn't get there,'"

A chasm as dark and endless as the one he and El had found themselves in one year prior.

"Этот ключ, он в подземной крепости,"

"'This key is in an underground fortress,'"

"созданный величайшими русскими умами,"

"'designed by the greatest Russian minds,'"

"охраняют их величайшие воины."

"'guarded by their greatest warriors.'"

"Сделать это было бы невозможно,"

"'Breaking in would be,"

A chasm only the Upside Down could make.

"impossible.'"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Jackpot,"

Dustin's voice disturbs the silence in the chamber he and Erica now found themselves in, second only to the scraping of metal on metal as they emerged from within a single grate from the floor and into a hidden storage room at the heart of the secret Russian base. The trip through the ducts wasn't so bad after all. Easy peasy.

The breath was stolen straight from their lungs at the sight of their latest discovery, a storage room dedicated to the eerie green substance to have caused them so much trouble already. The sight was chilling and not just because of the danger lurking in the air. One little misstep-one little earthquake-could sink this entire room.

Dustin's eyes scanned the area, finally leaving the many enticing vials and landing just past the glass doors before lighting up in mischief.

"Oh-ho-ho!"

Erica followed him curiously as he practically skipped down the steps to hop aboard the transport vehicle that sat unattended. Talk about good luck. It closely resembled the same cart the four had (very briefly) seen leaving the elevator when they had barely escaped from the confines of the steel trap. Only instead of a small truck bed, this particular model had a large cage built in the back. As if for transporting people rather than cargo.

"Do you even know how to drive?"

"How hard can it be? Max did it,"

Erica cocked her brow at the boy at his sudden disappointment upon finding the lack of keys in the ignition.

"You seriously thought they'd just leave the keys in there?"

"There's gotta be a spare," He argued, already on the hunt.

Heaving a hefty sigh, Erica stepped away from the cart and began a little exploration of her own. After all, how often was it one ended up in a top-secret underground military base (so far) unscathed? Disappointingly enough, there was surprisingly little left to be explored. The most interesting thing in sight was the sealed room of that mysterious green acid.

That and the ten-foot steel cage build for no living thing Erica had ever seen.

"Hey Dustin?"

More clanging from behind her, but she didn't turn. Dustin was obviously still elbow deep in his search. Nevertheless, half-hazardly, he answered.

"Yeah?"

The words came to her lips as fast as last year's harrowing tale came to mind. "How big did you say that Demogorgon was?"

"Big." He shrugged, moving on to the small supply cabinet beside the cart. "Nine feet or so. Why?"

Nine feet? Hmm.

Dustin tried his luck next at the little wall cabinet next. And it opened. He frankly, couldn't believe their luck so far, but he didn't exactly have time to question why a spare key to the cabinet was left out for people to so easily find. But it was, and he did. And it was with a gratifying breath he pulled back the metal door to find a matching set of keys.

"Found 'em!" He beamed, turning to find the smile falling right off his face. Erica was nowhere in sight, and his heart plunged in fear. "Erica?"

Dustin's soul was practically ripped from his body at the sound of electricity zapping loudly near his ear. It was in this instant his body whipped him around to face Erica wielding what resembled some sort of souped-up cattle prod and a mischievous smirk.

"What the hell is that?!" He cried in fight.

Erica shrugged, visibly pleased with herself and her find. "A deadly weapon. Could be useful." Her grin tightened and she zapped the device again, making Dustin jump.

"For what?"

"What do you think? Taking down Commies, saving your friends."

Readjusting his vest, Dustin attempts to mask his surprise. "I thought you were more realistic than that, nerd,"

And wasn't he supposed to be the one worried about those two nerds that just sacrificed themselves? Erica rolls her eyes and stalks off, already halfway done with a plan.

"We don't even know where they are," Dustin argues. "And even if we did, there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that."

The two of them (Erica, wisely still carrying the electrical prod) pile inside the front seat of the transport vehicle.

"The best thing we can do for them is to get out of here and find help--" Dustin reels back when the butt end of the prod gets a little too close for comfort. "--easy with that. Our chance of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially. Just trust me on this. Please?"

Dustin decides to take her silence as a yes, and for that he's grateful. If there was any chance he knew they could ensure the four of them getting out alive, he would do everything he could to take it. And yet, he can't help but notice the small itch in his mind. There's something there, far, far back, that agrees with Erica and not in the way he expects.

Shoving the key in the ignition and giving a satisfying twist, the roar of the engine ignites the question: was he doing the right thing?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The blood pounding in Steve's ears (and his swollen face) was plenty loud. But certainly not loud enough to drown out Robin's cries for help thundering in his ears and rattling his skull. At the very least, it had finally stirred him from unconsciousness.

"Help!"

"Hey, would you'stop yelling?"

His words came out drunken and slurred, and it was only in this moment as he forced his lips to move through the pain to speak that he realized they were bloated and bleeding.

"Steve!" Relief swept so suddenly over Robin that she actually felt herself smiling. "Oh, my God! Steve..."

He wished she'd stop moving so much. He had a killer migraine that was so bad he could hardly keep his eyes open and any energy to keep his head balanced on his shoulders was gone. He didn't need her screaming in his ear or leaning all over him.

He could feel her back digging all into his now, jostling him around even more. Man, it was so tempting just to go back to sleep-

"Are-Are you okay?" he hears her ask. Her voice, yet again is unusually close but maybe that was just hangover-like daze he was awaking to.

And then everything came trickling back.

The secret code, the Russian base, the gate they were trying to reopen. Dustin and Erica escaping-Jesus, those shitheads better make it out okay-and then there was the Colonel. Steve remembers clearly now how frightened he'd been when Robin and himself had been separated (at gunpoint) and hauled off to separate interrogation rooms. What followed next was nothing short of yet another addition to Steve Harrington's growing list of Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days to have landed him his latest shiners. That and his new spot in the metal wheelie chair tied back to back with Robin.

At least they weren't separated anymore. At least they knew the other was alive.

Little light was making it into his puffy eyelids, but it was more than before. Progress. The young man managed to lick his cracked and bleeding lips, only to absent-mindedly realize he had been drooling in his sleep. He wouldn't be surprised if he found a small spot of drool and blood on his shorts, but he wasn't exactly in the right headspace to care. He was just focusing on making it through the pain his body was still waking up to.

"My ears are ringing," he finally rasped. "and I can't really breathe, my eye feels like it's about to pop out of my skull, but you know," Steve managed a small shrug that awoke many stiff muscles in his neck and shoulders, his head still hung relatively low. "apart from that, I'm doing pretty good,"

"Well, the good news is that they're calling you a doctor,"

Steve immediately recognizes the mask of humor she's putting on off her laughter alone. But whether it was denial or a brave face, he wasn't sure. He was right there with her though, that was for sure.

Fluorescents were flooding in from every corner of the room, doing his readjusting vision zero favors. But he makes out the details of their latest confines well enough.

He clicked his tongue loud enough for Robin to hear. "Is this his place of work?" he plays along. "I love the vibe," There's a small spark of satisfaction igniting in his chest when she chuckles. "Charming,"

"Yeah, tell me about it," she quips. "So, okay, do you see that table over there to your right?" Steve looks left. "No, your other right," Steve looks right. "Yeah, okay. And do you see those scissors?"

His mouth still hanging agape, Steve nods. "Uh-uh,"

"Yeah, well, I think that if we move at the same time, we could get over there, and then maybe I could kick the table and knock them into your lap."

"And I could cut the binds,"

"Yeah," Robin encouraged. She just hoped the poor dingus would wake up faster. For his sake as well as hers. Her tone stayed light and encouraging nonetheless-who knows how much they knocked his head around. "And we could get out of here."

"Gotcha. Okay, yeah, we can do that,"

"Yeah!"

"Those morons," he said, the hope steadily building between the two of them. "They left scissors in here?"

"Yeah, morons,"

"Total, morons,"

What state as false hope was already hurtling fast towards determination and hard confidence as they settled into place and prepared. It would be tricky to move without their hands (which were roped together in their lap and out of reach of their seat) but not impossible. They could do this. They could totally do this.

"Okay," Robin huffed, casting out any anxious thoughts in the process. "on the count of three, we're gonna hop."

Steve nodded. "Okay, good, hop on three. I gotcha."

"Alright. One,"

It was just a bit of chair scooching. They could totally handle this.

"Two,"

Sure it was high stakes, but no reason to be nervous. They could absolutely do this.

"Three!"

Actually, they couldn't do this and three times is not always the charm.

Two glorious hops later and then the finish line was ripped right out from under them. More specifically, the legs of the chair-damn their slippery wheels. The world had been flipped on its side and both Robin and Steve (still very much tied back to back, chair to chair) had come crashing into the freezing linoleum floors. The wind had been knocked out of them both, and yet Robin still found another breath in her lungs to laugh.

Steve, who had mistaken her hushed giggles and shaking shoulders for sobs adjusted himself on the floor as best as he could to comfort her.

"It's okay," he says, not at all sure how any of this was okay. "It's okay. Don't cry, Robin,"

But the sincerity in his voice only splits the crack in her sanity even wider.

"...Are you laughing?"

Her giggles have now turned to undeniable fits of laughter, and she nods. "Yeah,"

"Jesus," he sighs, dropping his head back on the floor in defeat.

"I'm sorry!" Robin cries again through gasping breaths. "I'm so sorry. It's just..." another gulp of air. "I can't believe... I'm gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington. It's just too trippy, man,"

"We're not gonna die," said Steve. "Just-- You gotta let me just think for a second."

Robin didn't. She was too lost in the clashing irony and nostalgia of her very short life-and just how much Steve had been apart of it. But did he even realize it?

"Do you remember, um, Mrs. Click's sophomore history class?" Robin's mouth was suddenly very dry.

At a total loss, Steve shook his head. "What?"

A beautiful, wistful smile floated across Robin's face as she thought back on the past. How silly the problems of high school were to her now as compared to just days ago. Now every little detail felt in this moment to her a fond anecdote.

"Mrs. Clickity-Clackity," she reminisces. "That's uh, what us band dweebs called her."

Steve winces, burying his face in the round and trying not to think about how gross the floor might be. The wistful smile of Robin's all the while, steadily fades from her lips.

"It was first period. Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And," she shifts further on her side, eyes drifting far into the linoleum tile where she swears she can almost see those stupid crumbs again. "you always had the same breakfast. Bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel."

Robin's voice had steadily shrunk along with her confidence as she spoke. He realized he had never heard her like this before. But Steve was realizing this was exactly her point. He hardly knew her, but she seemed to know all about him. It was a harsh reminder who he once was. And not that long ago.

"I sat behind you two days a week for a year. Mister Funny. Mister Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself." The bitter edge evident in her voice nicked at his heart. Every bit as much as the rock sitting at the bottom of his stomach as he realized he had no previous recollection of her. "Do you even remember me from that class?"

There it was. She had finally cast the question out like a line, hoping for something. Anything. But the only bite she got was his silence.

"Of course you don't," she laughed sourly. "You were a real asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know," is all he can say. Shame all he can feel.

"But it didn't even matter," she continues. "It didn't even matter that you were an ass. I was still... obsessed with you. Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just wanna be popular... accepted, normal."

"If it makes you feel any better, having those things isn't all that great. Seriously." he admits, trying his best to ignore the frog in his throat. Instead, he lets out a sigh. A heavy, tired sigh. "It just baffles me. Everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it's all just..."

Steve was tired. But he knew now. He finally understood. What Nancy had drunkenly confessed to him all those months ago-what had been weighing so heavily on her conscious for too long. And here it took him fighting two waves of interdimensional monsters that eventually led him to capture in a top-secret, underground foreign base where he faced imminent death to realize how misguided he had been. Even when he thought he had turned everything around. It was all-

"...bullshit."

Robin nearly laughed at that. Nearly. King Steve...she thought, who knew?

"But I guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right?"

"I hope so," that wistful smile returns to her lips once more, now more ironic than anything. "I feel like my whole life has been... one big error,"

Steve did laugh at that. "Yep," he chuckled. Because Steve understood what she was talking about. Maybe not in the exact ways she meant, but he could certainly relate.

Dustin's words from earlier rang in the back of his mind as quickly as it took to stuff them back down. This was hardly the time. It was far from the time. In fact, it was so far past the time to name such a feeling that had been brewing without him realizing it, the time in and of itself was just gone. He had missed it. It might as well be another 'r' making up the big "ERROR" of Steve Harrington's life.

But just like any other bad day at Scoops Ahoy, her snarky laugh and dry humor did fine to lighten a room. "At least it can't get any more messed up than this,"

"You know, I wish I'd known you in Click's class,"

He can nearly see Robin's crooked smile poking into his peripherals at his confession. "Yeah?" She asks. Oh yeah, he was sure.

"Really, I do," Robin hums another little laugh that makes him smile.

He tries to picture how much happier he would have been in high school had he been friends with her over those assholes Tommy and Carol. It isn't very hard to imagine now.

"Maybe you could've helped me pass the class," he says without thought. "Maybe instead of being here, I'd be on my way to college right now,"

"And I would have no idea there were evil Russians beneath our feet, and I would be happily slinging ice cream with some other schmuck,"

More laughter. Another involuntary smile. An undeniable sense of comfort and safety. Neither of them could seem to help it around one another these days, and neither of them really realized it until now. Figures it took this much to get two kids so shockingly alike to find one another. But it happened. No matter how many errors had been made along the way. They would be there with each other in the end. And that's what mattered to them now.

"Gotta say, though, I liked being your schmuck," he begins. "It was fun while it lasted."

Robin couldn't believe it any more than she could believe she was a hostage in a secret underground Russian base beneath Hawkins. With Steve "The Hair" Harrington of all schmucks. But she surprisingly, whole-heartedly agreed. Who fucking knew?

"It was."

It really was.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Static. That's all there was.

This crude tangle of noise blaring out from the TV now placed in the living room did well to replace the silence left by El as she sat before it. The others were scattered all around her, waiting less than patiently as she searched.

Seated anxiously on the living room couch are Max and Lucas. Next to them, Y/n and Will, hands woven tightly together. And perched at the edge of the adjoining armchair at attention, is Mike; his sister, and her boyfriend just across the room. Concern etches itself into everyone's faces as El's breathing steadily picked up.

She hadn't been under long, but the reason for the Hopper girl's latest trip to the void was cause enough to worry all those waiting for her on the outside when she made her abrupt exit. The thick, scrunchy-like material that lay over her eyes was ripped off suddenly as she gulped down several exhausted breaths.

"What's he doing now?" Max asks on behalf of the group.

Turning over her shoulder, El does nothing to hide her dazed look.

"Nothing."

"'Nothing'?"

El knew not to take Max's disbelief personally--she was having trouble with it herself. Though it did frustrate her beyond belief, having spent so much time and energy trying to find out his plans, only to be met with another question.

She felt the frown on her face tighten as she recalled what little details she was given.

A bed. He was sitting on a bed. That's when she recalled the impromptu investigation she, Max, and Y/n had gone on days ago to look for clues-they had been in his room, and from what she could tell, it was his.

"He's sitting on his bed." She clarifies, her thoughtful frown now searching the carpet in thought. "In his room. Doing nothing."

It just didn't make sense. Nor was it in any way settling.

With a slight, under-her-breath huff, El hoisted herself off the floor and made her way to the kitchen in search of water. Her limbs ached and her mouth was already dry, lips cracking. Greedily, her body gulped down the cold water, working fast to replenish her energy and sink her shoulders into a relaxed state. Her mind was only half on the conversation going on in the living room as she regrouped.

"And that's not normal, right?" Nancy reiterates, already beginning her anxious pacing as the gears in her mind begin to turn.

"Billy staying in his room on the fourth of July? No, that's not normal."

Y/n turned her attention back to her right at Will when she felt the grip on her hand tighten just ever so.

"That can't be good," he says, completely unaware of his subconscious hold. "He must want us to find him,"

Without saying a word, Y/n reciprocated with a gentle reassuring squeeze to his hand.

"Yeah," Nancy nodded grimly. "that's what I'm afraid of. If we go to the Mind Flayer, then the rest of the Flayed know where we are,"

"It's a trap," Mike jumped in with a nod. "I agree. We'll be ambushed,"

"We wouldn't be surprised though," Lucas argues. "We'll know that they're coming, and we will kick their flayed butts,"

"You mean El and Y/n will kick their butts," Max counters, completely missing the way Y/n inwardly shrunk into herself at the thought. Her head dropped softly back onto Will's shoulder and relished in the comforting strokes of his thumb on the back of her hand.

"Uhhh, not if we prepare first,"

Tearing her eyes off the conversation and back to her glass, El's sights snagged on the stray box of Lucky Charms cereal that had been left out by Will. Setting the glass down, she inspected the box further--

"If he's just sitting around waiting for us, we can spare an hour to gather stuff to fight-come on, what happened to monster hunting?"

--more specifically, the tugging memory the bright arching rainbow gave her. Lucas's voice slowly faded out of focus, all at once flooded with soured memories.

'Papa!'

《•••》

The sight of the tiny rainbow painted on the walls is the last thing in focus as she is dragged far away.

"No,"

The women's head snapped in her direction, her eyes boring into El's, desperation clouding them.

"They wanted her, and they're gonna want Jane! Don't make me do this!"

Big lights swarm her vision, and she looks around as several people in green clothing and latex gloves stand and move around her.

"Jane. Where's Jane?"

...a vase of sunflowers. A tearful Becky.

"Four-fifty,"

Her mother begins to convulse, her muscles go stiff and she writhes and shakes in pain.

"RUN!"

A single gunshot.

"Breathe."

"RUN!"

Sunflowers. A missing daughter.

"Three to the right, four to the left,"

"RUN!"

The rainbow fading from view.

Four-fifty.

"RUN!"

《•••》

"Maybe," Jonathan nods his head at Lucas, unaware of El's sudden shifting attention, her entire demeanor now grim. "But it's too risky."

"Plus," Nancy says. "Killing the Flayed won't stop the Mind Flayer. We have to find out where it's spreading from,"

"But what about last year?" Y/n asks. "It was all about the Mind Flayer's attachment to Will. What makes this any different?"

"Well, this time it has an actual physical form outside of its host," Jonathan says, hands landing on his hips thoughtfully. "Besides, there's already a clear difference between this year and last. I don't know why the Mind Flayer would be having the Flayed drink chemicals, or how they were able to turn into those things--" he grimaced genuinely at the memory. "or even if they're related. But we don't even know how many there are anyway, so taking them on would be, again, a huge risk. Which is why I say we explore all our options, first,"

"Like what?" Lucas asks.

"Finding the source," El insists, entering the edge of the living room. "Billy knows it. Billy's been there."

"Yeah, but--"

"--It's a trap," El finished, nodding gently at Mike's concerns. "I know. We can't go to Billy, but, I think there's another way," El's gaze trails around the room as hope fills her chest, the last pair of eyes she lands on is Y/n who she stares at knowingly. The girl in question straightens in curiosity. "A way for me to see where he's been."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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