||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Get him out. Go! Go!"

"God! Hold on, sweetie!"

Will screams in anguish as he is wheeled throughout the lab. He clutches his arm tightly, wishing he could tear the very skin off of his flesh, he feels as if he is being cooked from the inside out. Joyce stays close behind him, her tears clouding her vision, Bob and Mike right on her tail.

When she had left the tunnels, she was faced with the horrendous sight of her youngest writhing in the grass, near unconsciousness.

"I'm right here, honey. Just hold on." She cries, her hand outstretched for him.

They reach a room faster than she anticipates and she feels herself being ripped away from her baby when he is placed onto a bed. Bob is gently pulling her back, but to her, the distance is too great. She needs to be there, show him he's there. But for now, she's stuck, watching helplessly as her son is dying.

"Vitals?"

"Heart rate 220. Temperature's 106."

Several hands are prodding and poking, adjusting and readjusting but one nurse, in particular, leans forward. Her gloved hands gently grab the sides of his face so as to grab his attention - this whole while, his eyes have been closed as he screams.

"Will," she says urgently. "where does it hurt?"

His face is pale and his eyes sunken and dark, but he manages to open them for a brief moment to speak before falling into a fit of groans.

"All over."

"She says he feels like he's burning." Dr. Owen's interjects. "Check for burns."

Will's shirt is quickly cut open allowing them to work but there is no sign of burns to be found.

"I don't see anything!"

Once again, she grabs a gentle hold of Will leaning down to get his attention as the other nurses begin to apply wires.

"Where does it hurt the most, Will?"

"Everywhere!" He screams, launching his head up. "EVERYWHERE!"

His head is thrown back into the pillow in anguish, the doctors swarm his bedside doing all in their abilities. Joyce collapses in Bob's arms, her trembling hand over her mouth and Bob finds himself unable to bear the sight.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Here we stand or here we fall
History won't care at all"

The newly formed, unlikely duo of Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington stew in thick silence, nothing but the lilting voice of Freddie Mercury's voice carrying through the car's otherwise silent atmosphere as Hammer To Fall plays from the radio. Night has fallen and the two ride in silence, the maroon BMW barreling down the streets of Hawkins, clouds of leaves in its path. Dustin had shared his previous encounters with his newest ally which has caused the aforementioned silence. Finally, Steve finds his voice.

"Wait a sec. How big?"

Dustin stretches out his forefinger from his thumb roughly an inch, indicating to Steve.

"First it was like that," he then stretches both hands out wider than his shoulders. "Now he's like this."

Steve rolls his eyes, returning them to the road as he scoffs.

"I swear to God, man, it's just some little lizard, okay?"

"It's not a lizard."

"How do you know?"

Dustin turned to Steve with an incredulous look, mocking his confidence and the two begin to speak over one another.

"How do I know if it's not?"

"How you know it's not just a lizard?" Steve said, his voice rising.

"Because his face opened up and he ate my cat." Dustin snapped.

Steve's eyes widened, though his face quickly contorts into an awkward expression. Willingly admitting defeat, he shrugged as he pulls into the Henderson driveway.

The two exit the car and meet at the trunk, as promised Steve opens his trunk to reveal the infamous spike bat from the previous year. Having ditched his toxic friends, Steve had come to the Byers's house to make peace with Jonathan after their fight. Only to find Nancy there with Jonathan as they set a trap for the Demogorgon the night of Eleven's disappearance. Consequently, Steve had been thrown into the chaos in their battle with the Upside Down where he upheld the infamous weapon. The less than pleasant memories came flooding back to him as he glanced down at the makeshift weapon, and he sighs.

Tossing his keys to Dustin, he grabs his bat, twirling it in his grasp and he can't help but notice the spark of adrenaline that comes with it. The feeling of the weapon in his hands, knowing he needs to be prepared at any moment. And he is.

Slamming the truck, Steve follows Dustin's lead into the backyard. He finds himself standing in front of a chained up cellar and Steve waits in hushed silence for any signs of movement. The flashlight beam dances across the steel as he waits, but the pair is only met with more silence.

"I don't hear shit."

"He's in there." Dustin shrugs.

Cautiously, Steve leans forward, his bat outstretched and he gently taps the wooden end of the bat against the steel. Again, no other sounds can be heard. Testing his luck, he steps forward again and whacks the doors with the bat creating a larger sound. Still no reply.

Steve turns hotly on his heel and shines the flashlight directly in Dustin's eyes with a less than impressed look on his face.

"All right, listen, kid. I swear, if this is some sort of Halloween prank, you're dead."

"It's not," Dustin argues, wincing from the harsh light.

"All right?" Steve pressed.

"It's not a prank." He urges. "Get it out of my face."

Steve reluctantly replies, and he gestures to the cellar.

"You got a key for this thing?"

The cellar doors are ripped open with an ear-splitting squeak and Steve peers deep into the darkness, his bat in hand. Dustin stands behind him, flashlight in his shaky hand and Steve gladly takes it. He shines it further into the cellar, the milky white beam reached the bottom of the steps and dances across the cold, grey concrete.

"He must be farther down there," Dustin says.

"I'll stay up here in case he tries to escape," Dustin says uncertainly.

Steve looks up at the boy with a deadpanned expression before back into the dark abyss with a supposed cat-eating monster. He shakes his head, unable to believe the dramatic, unforeseen turn his day has taken.

He sighs once more, not bothering to hide his unease as he looks from the boy to cellar once more.

"You have a sister, don't you? Why isn't she helping out?"

Dustin shifts uneasily.

"Yeah, about that," Dustin says, causing Steve to sigh. "She's with Byers. Also, she has no idea I found Dart after we lost him at school, or that our cat's dead so I'd rather not lead with that..."

"Jesus, I- Fine. Whatever, let's just get this over with."

Both bated breath, Steve descends into the darkness, his bat gripped tightly in hand, flashlight in the other. His body is tense and he is ready for any sign of movement. He reaches the last step, and his flashlight quickly scans the area though it finds nothing but a metal chain hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. Deeming it safe, his guard lowers ever so and he steps forward turning on the light, the chain dangles around his head and for one blissful moment, he finds nothing but a regular cellar.

That is until his eyes land on the peculiar sickly pale green shape on the floor before him. In the dark, his vision had mistaken it as an old plastic grocery bag but now with the light illuminating the surface, it had a bright pale sheen and he could see it certainly wasn't anything normal. Extending the ends of the bat, the nails hooked into the strange wet substance and held it up to examine it.

The beam of the flashlight shone through the substance. After moments of contemplation as he watches it drip with mucus-like slime and is met with a horrid stench, he realizes it had once been skin.

His gaze wandered to a spot on the wall just beyond where he had found the shredded skin and he looked on in shock, his stomach plummeted as if he had dropped ten stories.

From above the surface, Dustin waited less than patiently, growing nervous for the Harrington boy.

"Steve?" He called uneasily.

The cellar light had been turned on but no other sign of life had shown itself. Fear crept into Dustin's heart and his unease festered.

"Steve, what's going on down there?" He asked a little louder.

Dustin jumped back in surprise when an unexpected beam of light hit his face so suddenly. His heart leaped into his throat and he was thankful he hadn't screamed. Behind the beam of light was Steve, looking up at him worriedly.

"Get down here." He ordered.

His voice sounded shaky, a factor in Steve that did not comfort Dustin at this moment, but reluctantly, he obeyed. Dustin descended the cellar steps to find a familiar substance dangling from the spiked bat, and his stomach twisted into knots.

"Oh, shit."

Without a word, Steve pulled the bat away and shone the flashlight towards the far corner of the cellar revealing his second discovery. A large trail of slime was strewn across the concrete leading to the far left corner of the cellar. Dozens of discarded bricks, broken remnants of splintered broken wood sprinkled the area as well of mounds of dirt flowed in from the gaping hole in the wall where Dart had escaped.

"Holy, shit!"

The duo stepped forward, bending down to examine the tunnel. The small beam of light was redirected once more and the two gapped at their microscopic view of the infinite tunnel that wound its way throughout all of Hawkins.

The currently vacant Byers living room is bathed in the pale moonlight, the only evidence of life is Will's abandoned maps that travel through the house like veins. An abandoned glass of water on the kitchen counter vibrates in only the slightest as the growing rumble of engines surrounds the house. A fleet of men flood routinely from the identical swarm of HAWKINS WATER AND ELECTRIC vans and storm the Byers porch. Within moments, the house is flooded with agents, dozens of flashlight beams dance across the floors, walls, and ceilings as they dissolve across the perimeter.

Light switches, remotes, doorknobs - apart from the front door - go untouched avoiding any trace they were ever here, only doing that which was necessary with gloved hands. They were quick and thorough, and apart from the brief but blinding flashes of cameras documenting the maps and the fleet of flashlights, the house is illuminated only by the moons soft rays. A pair of hands confiscate the videotape from Halloween night, that had previously remained tucked into the player, while another takes several photos of Will's drawing of the shadow monster that sits in his room, undisturbed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Will's small and weakened frame lays unconscious on the medical bed. The color in his cheeks that gave him his usual warm and pinkish hue withered and was almost nonexistent, his skin now paled a sickly white and covered in a sheen of sweat from the long night behind him. Bob and Mike sit at his side, their eyes trained on him for any signs of disturbance as his body shakily rises and falls in a feeble attempt at stabilizing.

Meanwhile, Joyce sits at the head of the conference table among the lab's finest doctors and agents. She - much like Bob and Hopper - had traded their regular attire for scrubs during the night and she is in a heated discussion with Owens and his team.

"That thing, it..." she gestured over her shoulder. "It did something to him."

"Okay," Owens thoughtfully scratches his head, his mind scrambling to catch up and understand the situation. "And these now-memories, as you call them, how long has he been experiencing them?"

The impatience grew in Joyce at the repetitive question and fights a huff.

"I told you, since Thursday. Since I found him in the field."

"And why wasn't he brought in?" Asked an unnamed scientist to her right.

Her sharp and hostile gaze snaps to the man and she gives him a cynical glance, her palms hitting the surface of the wooden table.

"I have been bringing him in, and what have you done?" She spits coolly. "Nothing. Nothing!"

Owens nervously jumps in with an unintended stilted tone, his movements stiff, all in a pathetic and useless attempt to minimize her concerns.

"These are new symptoms, Joyce."

Joyce shook her head profusely, jabbing her finger in Owens's direction. Her promise to Will burning protectively in her heart.

"No. No, he has been telling you over and over that something wrong, and you said it was all in his head."

Owens squirms uncomfortably in his seat, his composure cracking under Joyce's fire. His mouth opens and closes, though his voice fails him.

"You said, 'Be patient.' Those were your words."

As she leans back into her seat, shifting restlessly Owens finally finds his voice. Her adrenaline and unease find a small and temporary outlet as her fingers drum against the wooden conference table.

"I understand that you're upset, okay? I get it. And I would be, too, if I were in your shoes." Owens gestured around the room. "But we are all in the same boat here, and I just need you to try--"

"What? Stay calm? Trust you?" Joyce looks around the table in disgust before shaking her head. "No, I want him transferred to a real hospital."

Dr. Owens's eyes shift to the papers in his hands, and while his voice is firm his nervous actions give away his discomfort.

"Well, you know that's not possible."

Another doctor joins in much to Joyce's bewilderment and chagrin.

"He really will get the best treatment here, Mrs. Byers."

"He really will." Another interjected.

She looked between them, utterly baffled, unable to believe the blinding negligence in themselves. She merely scoffs.

"And what are you treating him for, exactly?" She shrugs exasperated when she is met with no response and she rises to her feet. "Can anyone tell me what's wrong with him? Can a single person in this room tell me what is wrong with my boy?"

No one spoke, and she was met once more with dozens of eyes that avoided her gaze. Several men squirming uncomfortably in their seats and it only fuels the flames in her chest and her voice rises with her anger.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BOY?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Oh, He-Man, thank you for saving my life. What strong muscles you have."

Erica smirks at the dolls in her hands as she is splayed out across her bed. In one hand, her favorite Barbie doll, Christie. In the other, Lucas's He-Man action figure she had lifted from his room. She brought the two together in an embrace, their plastic faces touching as she made exaggerated kissing noises. The door was thrown open by Lucas and she looks up at him distasteful. His eyes fall to the doll in his hands and he glares at her.

"I knew it!" He scoffs, stomping in and ripping He-Man from her hands.

"Hey! They're in love!"

Lucas turns in her doorway, rolling his eyes.

"No, actually they're not. They don't even exist on the same planet."

"Aren't you too old to be playing with toys?" She quips.

Words die on Lucas's tongue and another rough sigh escaped him. He shakes his head, ridding himself of the comment.

"That... That's not the point. The point is to stay out of my room." He fires back, marching off into the hallway.

Erica calls after him, unfazed.

"Then tell your little nerdy friend to shut his mouth."

Lucas backpedals and returns to her doorway, giving his sister a quizzical look.

"What are you talking about?"

Erica merely shakes her head slightly and exaggerates Dustin's previous cries.

'''Code red, Lucas. Code red. Code red.' Bunch of nerds."

She rolls her eyes, reaching back for a nearby stuff animal, missing the horrified look on Lucas's face. He runs quickly to the end of the hall, not caring if he crashes into his door. He grips the doorframe as he scans his room, a frightened mantra slipping from his lips.

"No, no, no, no, no, no."

Sure enough, on his bed is his walkie, completely shut off. He rushes to his bed, flipping the dials and extending the antenna as quickly as he can.

"Dustin!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The steel buckets hit the concrete with a decisive smack, and a container of gasoline is placed next to them. Dustin and Steve unload the trunk of monster hunting supplies they had scraped together for their plan against Dart. They had procured buckets and buckets of raw meat from the butcher shop and managed to gather the other supplies from Steve's garage. Dustin's comms come to life and immediately he recognizes Lucas's voice.

"Well, well, well, look who it is." Dustin feigns a smirk, gloved hands on his hips as Steve continues to unload the trunk behind him.

"I'm sorry, man." Lucas sighed. "My stupid sister turned it off."

"Well, when you were having sister problems, Dart grew again, he escaped, and I'm pretty sure he's a baby Demogorgan."

All Lucas could do in that short moment was blink as he processed the truckload of information.

"Wait. What?"

"I'll explain later," Dustin answered. "Just meet me and Steve at the old Junkyard."

Another wave of shock hit Lucas abruptly.

"Steve?"

"And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket."

"Steve Harrington?"

Behind Dustin, Steve had finished packing his bag and he closed the trunk. His voice barely echoed through the mic and into Lucas's ears, but it was undeniably Steve's.

"All right, let's go."

Dustin grabs the remaining bucket - the other in Steve's hand - and quickly falls in line.

"Just be there, stat," Dustin ordered into his headset. "Over and out."

⊹⊹⊹

Thank you all for 24k!!! AHH!! So exciting and it makes my heart soar! I also wanted to let you guys know that now that these chapters are published, I will be posting the cast chapter of season three, which I've had ready since before it aired cause I'm impatient lol.

Also, apologies if there are spelling mistakes, I am only human and editing can only catch so much. anywho, more than anything I wanted to thank you guys for being so patient, and we reached 24k!! AHHH THANK YOU MY LOVES!!

Edit: NOW ALMOST 500K,!,!?! Frankly, I'm in denial, something that amazing just can't be real. I must be reading it wrong. Yeah that's it. Right? Either way, I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCH AND I HOPE YOU'RE STAYING HAPPY, HEALTHY, AND SAFE 💕💕💕