a/n: I'm afraid its that time my guys :(

Warnings: Violence + character death

||3rd Person POV||

The sharp beep from the monitor in the surveillance room indicates the successful connection to Bob's coms.

"Okay, Bob," Owen gruffed, adjusting his mic. "can you hear us?"

Bob instinctively comes to adjust the earpiece Jim had gathered for him off a fallen lab employee. "Loud and clear, Doc. Can you hear me back?"

"Yeah, we hear you,"

Bob wastes no time getting to work, and the computer comes to life with a low hum.

"Alright, give me a minute,"

He can feel his heart beating sporadically in his chest and the longer time stretches on the more he is certain he is sitting on pins and needles. His fingers fly across the keyboard and although the programming he wishes to see emerges on the screen, to him it could not have taken any longer.

In bright neon green, he is presented with three options;

[1] ALARM SYSTEM

[2] FIRE ALARM SYSTEM

[3] DOOR ACCESS

He feels a small wave of relief knowing he had found the correct systems, and he quickly activities the coms.

"Open sesame," he grins, pushing a single button.

A harsh buzzing sound accompanies a blue light above all exits and entries.

"It's open," Owens breathes, relieved.

Bob continues to open the necessary entryways, including the front gate.

A similar electric buzz catches the attention of the group gathered outside. They watch as the gate slowly but surely slides open, and Dustin straightens, beaming with pride.

"H-Hey!" He chuckles. "I got it! I got it."

Everyone but Dustin - who is still enjoying his moment of pride - gathers around the front of the fence.

Bob cracks a nervous grin. "Easy-peasy."

Hopper does little to fight the impressed smirk molding onto his face. "Son of a bitch did it."

"Right, I'll meet you outside." Bob grins, relieved.

Hastily, he rises from the desk and eagerly makes his way for the exit, gun in hand.

"Nice job," Owens praises, but his hope falters when he hears screeching from another monitor. "Hold on a second, Chief."

"What's wrong?" Hopper asks.

Owens gestures to the monitor that had caught his ear. "West stairwells not clear anymore."

Every face in the surveillance room drops as they make out the gaunt figure slinking down the stairway, navigating the many torn bodies. And looking to make more.

Just at the door, Bob falters, bringing the walkie up to his mouth to speak. "What's going on?"

"We've got some company."

"Where?"

"The west stairwell."

"I got an idea," Bob says, retreating quickly back to the desk.

His fingers fly across the keyboard once more, now with even more urgency if at all possible.

"What the hell's he doing?" Owens mutters.

"Okay," Bob murmurs. "And splash."

The others watch shocked and impressed as the sprinkler systems all along the entire west wing light up. The creatures hiss, uncomfortable, and begin to flee. Owens nods, bemused.

"Okay. Okay, that worked." He says into the coms. "Now get out of there. Go! Go!"

Bob springs out of his seat in a flash eager to follow the man's orders. His mind is racing as fast as his feet, wanting nothing more than to get the heck out of this place. Get Joyce and Will out of here, and just do whatever he needs to do to help. In this hasty state, he grabs the walkie and flees the basement.

And forgetting the handgun he had left on the corner of the desk.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hopper grabs a still unconscious Will off the desk, getting ready to leave.

"Wait a second, Chief?"

"What?" Hopper pauses, growing anxious.

Owens holds out another walkie. "Take this."

He takes the device, eyes flickering to the man. "What are you doing?"

Owens gives him a somber nod, trying to stay positive. "Any more surprises, I'll let you know. Go. Go!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Joyce and Mike follow closely and quietly on Hopper's heels as he navigates the lab. He has managed to carry Will, slung over his shoulder while still wielding his rifle.

In a mere matter of minutes, the breathtaking sight of the lobby doors are in view, and they scurry for the exit. Joyce is the only one to hesitate, she comes to a skidding halt and anxiously awaits the sight of her boyfriend.

Subconsciously her finger drum against the wall she leans on, and she begins to bounce on the balls of her heels.

"Come on, Bob." She whispers hopefully. "Come on,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Bob releases a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he reaches the end of the hall. His trip from the basement and back, while only a matter of minutes, had felt to him as several lifetimes. Having finally returned to the main floor, he had already encountered several mutilated bodies that he surely would not be forgetting anytime soon.

"Hey, Bob?" His eyes remain on the hallway before him, but answers in a hushed whisper into the walkie.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna guide you, okay?"

"Is there a problem?" He questions anxiously.

"No, it's just..." his stomach sinks, he recognizes that the man on the other end is choosing his words delicately. "It's, uh, getting a little crowded up here, so we're gonna have to take this slow."

Bob nods to himself, silently gathering as much courage as he can muster. "Okay,"

"All right, just start walking," Owens says gently.

Bob aims the beam of light in his hand at the end of the hall as he begins his journey. He can tell his hands are shaking judging by the state of the light as it bounces in one spot on the wall, and his breathing is sharp and ragged.

"Okay, good," Owens reassures.

He watches the man approach the corner with caution from he sits at the monitors

"Okay," he eases, eyes trained on the adjoining screen. "now, your next right."

Bob does as he's told, and makes the next turn down a long stretch of hallway. The lights flicker, their pale but harsh light illuminating the new string of bodies lining his path and he winces.

"Now, keep going," he mutters into the mic as encouragingly as he can. "keep going... keep going,"

Bob breaks into a sprint, throwing worried glances behind him, all the while Owens keeping a careful eye on the halls ahead. Though his heart nearly stops when he sees movement in the upcoming hall. He jumps out of his seat in his panic and shouts into the mic.

"Stop!"

Bob nearly loses his balance when he comes to a sudden halt, and shakily, he brings the walkie to his lips, scared to take even take a breath.

"W-what?"

Owens returns to his seat, collecting himself as best as he can though he can't deny the fear building in his stomach. How close Bob was to the end of the hall, to being spotted. It was too close.

"Bob, there's a door on your left, do you see that?"

Bob turns, the beam of light landing on the wooden door.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Yeah, I need you to get in it."

"What?" He asks, frowning at the walkie.

The creature walks further down the hall, flaps on its head beginning to unfurl as it snarls. It's heading straight for Bob.

"Now! Right now. Get in the closet." Owens orders.

Bob scrambles back into the closet, relieved to find it was already ajar, and he winces as he feels his back hit a supply shelf. He is shaking now, and he silently pleas for his lungs to hold their breath a little while longer but they still release short bursts of air without his permission. He clutches the walkie close to his chest and doing so it feels as if it is a lifeline. Bob's eyes closed when he hears the creature approaching around the hall. The door blocks his view but he can still envision it's grotesque features clearly when he hears its low growls.

Fear grips the doctor's heart as well, as his eyes are glued to the screen. Once again noting Bob's close timing as the door shut just as the monster curled around the corner.

Against his better judgment, Bob's eyelids peel open, peeking at the light slinking through from under the door. Four thin strips of darkness pad into view blocking the light and he knows this thing suspects he is there. Its very shadow taunts him, a new shape forming in the light, its head he guessed, as it came to sniff the door.

Not a sound, he thought to himself. Not a sound.

It hisses to itself, frustrated, and stalks off down the hall.

A relieved sigh breaks through, and Bob feels close to choking at how fast he began swallowing air. Droplets of sweat streak down his forehead, and he allows himself to collect his breath. The very same happens to Owens, and he mutters to himself relieved.

"Jesus Christ, okay," he breaths, pressing the mic button once more. "How you holding up there, Bob? You alright?"

His eyes remained trained on the light streaming in from the hallway, still far too worried the thing might return at any sudden sound. But trusting Owen's judgment, he speaks.

"Y-yeah. Yeah,"

"You got a pretty clear shot to the front door."

He nods, trying once more to reassure himself when he realizes the man might not see him.

"Okay," he croaks, attempting to choke back a small sob.

"You can do this, okay?"

He nods once more, now finding it much harder to believe the man's words.

"You're almost home free, alright, Bob?"

Bob thinks about Jim, how he was willing to step up, and do the job no matter how scary. He thought about Will, and getting him to safety and helping the poor kid through whatever the heck this was. And he thought about Joyce, what long and strenuous years she and her boys had been put through when all she deserved was happiness. A stress-free life with her boys, and hopefully, him.

Yeah, he thought. He could do it for her. He would. Thoughts of their last conversation popped into his head;

'Remember, Bob Newby, Superhero,'

He nodded to himself, a hint of confidence returning, and he opened the door.

It was unnaturally quiet, the kind of quiet that amplifies all other sounds you forget are there. That's what it felt like to Bob, at least, apart from the deafening creak of the door but he was careful about that. The hall was empty and quiet once more and only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

And it caught in his throat just as soon.

He felt something scrape his left arm, and he looked down confused and a spike in his heart rate only for it to stop altogether. Bob watched, frozen in fear as the wooden handle of a mop falls to the floor.

A sharp and resounding 'smack' tore through the silence and he feels as if his stomach had dropped all the way through the floor and back to the basement. His head whips back down the hall and for once, hopeful and desperate moment, he allows himself the possibility that he hadn't been heard. He knows it to be foolish, and it's only confirmed by Owen's terrified voice screaming into his earpiece, telling him the very thing he was telling his legs to do.

"Run!"

They finally listen, and it takes less than seconds for him to be in a full sprint. Without the precious gift of time, he is without Owens's directions and he tries desperately to remember his way to the exit. But with the adrenaline pumping fast through his veins its as if his brain has no room for overthinking. Within several terror-filled moments, he finds himself on the other side of the door, and in the lobby.

Bob pushes the doors closed, ensuring their stability and finally stumbles back, hunching over his knees as he pants for lost breath.

He had made it.

And then the most melodic sound he thought he'd had ever heard, rang like a chime in his ears.

"Bob!" Joyce cried, inching away from the door, her eyes filled with overwhelming relief.

He stood, the warmest of smiles gracing his face as he looked at the woman he loved. She was safe.

The next thing he felt was a harsh thud in his spine and skull as he was thrown to the floor.

Having broken down the doors and tackled him to the ground where it now towered above him, Bob sees the horrific beast in person for the first and last time. His imagination had failed him greatly, nothing was more terrifying to Bob than what was staring back at him at this moment.

Not the mysterious tunnels beneath his town, not even Mr. Baldo. All he knew was fear as he stared death in the face, its haunches in the air, and its faceless head peeled away to reveal several rows of sharp thorny teeth as it pinned the man to the floors.

Joyce jumps back at the sight, her horrified screams blending with his own. The creature towers over Bob, and despite the man's best efforts he cannot quite match the beast's strength. It raises a single lean arm into the air, and in one swift motion its talons glide down to meet his left kidney. As its claws sink further into his sides, a cloud of deep crimson stains his scrubs and a guttural cry of pain tears from deep within his chest.

"No!"

Joyce's cries of anguish alert the chief, who comes in all too late. He draws his rifle, now more in tune with the weapon without a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. But even then, it is far too late when the bullets hit the thing attacking Bob. Life has already begun to drain from the man, and in a matter of seconds, his chest had been torn to shreds.

It tears its eyeless gaze away from its prey, and though it bore no features Hopper felt as if it was mocking him as it roared at him. No sooner were the doors torn from their very hinges and a gathering army of the Upside Down pooled into the lobby. Without a second thought, his gun came to aim at the pack and unloaded a spell of bullets and yet they hardly flinched.

His attention flipped to Joyce and getting her to safety. He turned on his heels, running for the doors and he hooks one arm around her waist as he does so.

"Go!"

"No!" She cries, fighting against his grip, unable to tear her teary eyes away from Bob.

"Go!"

Her legs continue to kick and fight but it does very little as Hopper barely manages to lift her off the ground in his haste. As she is pulled around the corner, her one free arm stretches out after the man who had risked so much.

"Bob!"

The last thing she sees before the scene disappears from her view altogether is Bob's trembling and bloody hand reaching out for her in his remaining moments.

"No!"

The brisk autumn air meets her tear-stained face and it only brings another harsh blow of reality that Bob was left behind. Hopper assures the doors close and remains that way but he also struggles to restrain Joyce.

Mike straightens from his position against the concrete wall, his eyes filling with fear as he struggles to hold Will who has yet to come to.

"What happened?"

"No!" She continues to cry.

"He's gone! He's gone!" Hopper shouts, prying her away from the breaking glass doors.

The pack of monsters had already made after them and were now attacking the glass doors.

The sudden and rapid blaring of a familiar horn tears Mike and Hopper's attention to the street. To their great relief, they spot Jonathan's Ford Galaxy come to a screeching halt at the curb.

His window already rolled down, revealing himself and an equally worried Nancy in the passenger seat, Jonathan beckons them over feverishly.

"Come on! Get in!"

||Reader's POV||

It's become unnaturally silent, all too quickly. I'm surprised Lucas and Dustin haven't already picked a fight, then again, we've all been bickering nonstop since the junkyard. I looked around at my surroundings once more.

We were all trying to bide our time after Jonathan and Nancy left through the gate to scout ahead and investigate. The others, like me, had started pacing within the first few minutes. Aside from Steve. I glanced over to see that sure enough, he was still twirling the flashlight in his hands, leaning against one of the yellow bollards.

My eyes flicker back to the lab for the umpteenth time before returning to Steve, and I try my best to untangle the knots in my stomach.

"You sure they'll be okay by themselves? I mean, with all those," I frown, still a bit blindsided by the change in events. "Darts running around..."

Steve sighs, and throws his head back and blinks, agitating me greatly. His head lazily falls back to meet my eyes and he gestures lazily to the lab.

"Yeah, kid, they'll be fine." He shrugs, returning his attention to his flashlight as he flips it in his hand.

"And even if they aren't, we agreed to go after them if they didn't come back. It's been, what, five minutes?"

"Seven minutes, to be exact," Dustin pipes, looking at his watch.

Steve nods weakly, managing a small eye roll and a sarcastic nod. "Whatever, sure."

I begin nibbling on the inside of my cheek nervously and look back at the lab.

Steve sighs again, but this time he sounds a little conflicted.

"It's not like we could of all fit in that thing." He quips, and for a moment his voice loses its edge. "Look, Henderson, just take a beat and relax a bit. Give em time."

"Yeah, relaxing is not really her thing," Lucas jokes.

I throw a glare his way, but I can't help but laugh dryly. I try to brush it off when my head snaps back to the lab, we all stop and look at one another warily having recognized the faint sounds of gunshots.

The knots in my stomach grow tighter, and I look back at Steve as I raise my brow.

"Still think they'll be fine?"

He steps forward, pushing himself off the bollard and inches towards the gate and stops in front of us.

"I lent them the bat, it's fine." He mutters less than convincingly, gaze still fixed on the lab up ahead.

I wince, unable to shake the image of Nancy three summers ago when we looped her into a game of baseball.

"Yeah, but, I've seen Nancy with a bat..." I ease.

Steve looks down at me, surprised, and I almost catch a glimpse of humor, but it quickly evaporates. He nods, conceding but a lost look of admiration crosses his face.

"Yeah, well, you should see what she does with a gun, though," he mutters.

"Guys, wait," Max mutters, stepping forward. "Do you hear that?"

I stop, going perfectly still as we all do when suddenly I make out a sound in the distance I had previously thought to be several streets behind us. It's then that I realize just years ahead of us, the tree began to light up. The spot of light grew brighter until it turned into a pair of headlights. I realized, it wasn't just Jonathan's car, but the Chief's truck.

My body caught up with my brain just in time for me to jump out of the way, luckily the same could be said for everyone else. I nearly tripped over Max as Jonathan's car sped by, while the Chief's truck came to a grinding halt.

"Let's go!"

None of us faltered, and immediately we all scrambled inside. Steve was once again the last to enter, ensuring none of us got left behind. Once he was inside, he threw one arm out the window and slapped the side of the truck.

"Let's go, let's go!"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As promised, here are a list of resources dedicated to helping the Black Lives Matter movement that I encourage you to explore if you have not already. I will be placing the links in the comments. If I remember correctly, wattpad now lets you click on links in comments. If I'm mistaken, you can still copy and paste via desktop if you have access to it.

JUSTICE IN JUNE: This resource was compiled by Autumn Gupta with Bryanna Wallace's oversight for the purpose of providing a starting place for individuals trying to become better allies.

[link in comments]

Want to register to vote but you're not old enough? You just might be old enough to pre-register! This link will lead you to the official list of states and the earliest age at which you can pre/register:

[link in comments]

Below will be a link to a masterlist of ways and a variety of resources that help the Black Lives Matter movement, including petitions that are completely free to sign:

[link in comments]

And here is a masterlist of black mental health resources. Please know I care about you and I hope that you are getting the resources you need to take good care of yourselves. This might be something you know about and/or have seen already. On the off chance it's not, I hope it can be of use to you:

[link in comments]