The treetops block the moonlight from filtering down onto the foliage. Steve, Dustin and Lucas trundle along the uneven terrain, dried branches cracking beneath their shoes. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted — as if the night wasn't already ominous enough.
"Okay, so it's a little longer than we thought." Steve said. The distance from the top of the hill down the lab had seemed shorter from their original vantage point. He was beginning to think it was never actually a small building close by, but a large building far away. Predicting distance had never been his strong point. That's why he liked the boundaries of the running track so much.
Steve thought they'd be moving at a normal pace, but when he'd looked up, broken from his thoughts, Diane and Max had disappeared ahead in the distance. Then Lucas had spotted the Light and Energy Department in the distance. Something was happening, and in Hawkins that meant Demogorgans and other DnD unmentionables. Of course they had to go investigate. It wasn't like they had much of a choice.
If Diane had been there, undoubtably she would've barrelled ahead. That was the place she wanted to work at, after all. She was already so close to them she'd already been over there once before. Too much had happened tonight to keep track of anything other than survival. But when this settled down he'd need to warn her to stay away from the Energy Department. That's where they kept that kid, El. They weren't who she thought they were.
"We?" Dustin snorted.
"I told you it was like, two or three miles." Lucas said.
Steve shoved his hand into his pocket. The temperature was dropping fast. "Yeah, well, it looks like its just another mile."
"If we're going the right direction." Dustin said.
"Which we don't even know because it's pitch black and we're in the middle of the freakin' forest." Lucas added.
"Okay I get it." Steve raised his hands in the air in exasperation. "Can't you just sing a camp song or something to pass the time?"
Neither Lucas nor Dustin were in the mood for singing. Firstly, because Steve Harrington was the one giving the suggestion and they weren't some choir boys ready to burst into song at any given moment. Secondly, it meant finding a song to sing, which meant talking to each other.
And there was still the unresolved matter of who Max really liked. Lucas already had a strong idea and he surmised Dustin was just in denial. But he wasn't going to talk about Max with Dustin. He wasn't going to say how she'd joined him on top of the bus and how she had confessed a secret to him.
Not Dustin, not Mike, not Will.
Him.
He'd sworn, as he was up there guiding Steve (well, yelling like a Staff Sergeant), he'd even seen respect flash in her eyes. "A man always takes care of those he loves. And it's my duty to protect our family." His dad always told him. Okay — he didn't love Max and she wasn't family. But he was a protector, like his dad. It was stepping up and taking on responsibility. No matter what, a soldier never surrendered. That's what he'd be one day, just like his dad had been before he'd retired in Hawkins. Lucas thought he was off to a good start.
"We should've just gone with Diane." Dustin said.
It wasn't something Steve could disagree with, but somehow he'd ended up with the majority of the kids. His conversation after Diane and him had hopped off the bus had been awkward and stilted, and he couldn't find the right words when it'd fast become evident she hadn't quite forgiven him for his past transgressions. Between Nancy and Diane, he was starting to think he was losing it. He didn't know when everything had become so complicated or why half the things he said that usually worked, were now backfiring.
His paranoia that he was losing his touch only grew with each encounter gone awry. Any girl he spoke with felt like the recipient of his own, personal Midas touch. He was pretty sure that was the guy who turned things into gold . . . wait, that was a bad thing, right? Or was it good? He hadn't been paying attention — he couldn't even remember who'd been telling him that story.
"Well, you didn't." Steve said
"I know. Because we're blindly following you." Dustin said.
"Hey, I have a fun game we can all play." Steve pushed a branch out of his way. "It's called the silent game where you can see who can shut up for longest."
They continued steadily treading forwards, arms stretched out in caution for the trees around them. After a blissful minute of silence, Lucas broke it with a great restless sigh. "This game is stupid."
"Agreed." Dustin said, albeit grudgingly.
They might as well be a high school marching band with how loud they were. Out here, there was nowhere for them to hide. Steve's bat wasn't going to defend them this time if Darts friends came back to finish them off.
"Guys just quiet down a little, or we're all becoming meat-bags served extra rare. " Steve said.
"Sure, staying quiet will help. Except for, you know, all the branches we keep breaking and all the trees you keep hitting." Dustin said.
Steve looked like he was at the end of his tether. "I almost—"
"You did. You literally hit a tree — not even five minutes again." Dustin said flatly.
"Almost." Steve argued. "I dodged it. At the last second."
"Not to mention that we're all breathing louder than Davie Hart when he forgets his asthma spray at home." Lucas said.
"It's an inhaler." Dustin corrected.
Lucas shook his head. "You can also call it a spray."
"No, you can't. Because it's not called a spray." Dustin shot back. "It's an inhaler."
Lucas rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dustin. I know what I'm talking about."
"Really? I didn't realise you have asthma." Dustin said.
"So what? Just 'cus I don't have asthma, doesn't means that—"
They continued bickering through the forest loudly. It was lucky for them that Dart and his pack had all gathered in one particular place, and terribly unlucky for the recipients inside.
Despite the alarm, employees are milling about in the lobby in clusters. Scientists mingle with administrative and defence employees. It's a professional flurry of white lab coats, tailored suits and batons slung across hips.
A woman is running her fingers along her pearl necklace, sighing with impatience. Her head snaps up as she notices Edgar's unit striding towards her. Short black heels clack against the tiles as she closes the distance between them. The woman purses her lips at the state Diane is in, but doesn't comment. Her attention quickly turns to Edgar as she hands him a clipboard and pen.
"Evening Maryanne," Edgar takes the clipboard from her outstretched hand like she wants as little contact with him as possible, "sounds like a party in here."
Maryanne looks perturbed, but not overly concerned about the alarm. "Still waiting for the code. I swear if someones leftovers caught fire in the microwave again . . ."
With a sweeping signature, Edgar hands back the clipboard. "Still haven't given it?"
"No. Clearly, someone's sleeping on the job." Maryanne replied, tucking the clipboard beneath her arm.
Edgar grins. "Hard to imagine they can focus with all this noise."
Maryanne's gaze turns icy as he corrupts her complaint. Without another word Maryanne turns on her heel, shoving the double-doors wide open.
Against her fraying nerves that worsen with every passing moment, Diane tries to pacify herself with that knowledge. The employees weren't looking particularly worried, and no one's received any messages on what the issue is. It probably is just a bit of smoke in the break room, or maybe someone smoking a cigarette in a lab they're not supposed to. The alarm was bound to turn off any minute.
Her nerves seem to snap, and then she's plunged into frigid waters. It's so piercing it freezes her to the spot. For a brief moment she's disorientated in how wrong everything feels, like the world's tilted on its axis. What she'd felt in the cell prior now only felt like a lingering shadow in comparison to how overwhelming the feeling was now.
Maybe it's the fear of the shackles on her wrists, escorted by a small army like she's a criminal. Or it's something else entirely. All possible answers she's trying to grasp at slip through her fingers like the final strand of smoke from an extinguished cigarette, and she knows she's seeking rationality in something she cannot explain.
"Keep walking." Edgar grunts as he grips her upper bicep with bruising force and forces her down a hallway. The other guards close in around her, like a barrier trying to contain her. The orange lights flash across their faces, and the shadows that leapt up and retreated across their faces twisted and turned their features into something nearly inhuman.
She'd read once that cooperating with an attacker gave the best chance of survival, a chance to escape when the narrow window of opportunity arose. Except Edgar wasn't attacking her, he was escorting her into a government facility. And if she ran, she doubted there'd be a corner of the US where she'd be safe.
Maybe it was inevitable she'd end up here. She'd been circling this place her entire life. Everything she'd done, every memory, every decision, every thought, had been plagued with the shadow of this place. She hadn't noticed it until now, nothing more than a flicker in her periphery, disappearing if she tried to focus on it. She'd tried to shroud herself in shadows so she could be blinded with success. Well, she was right where she'd so desperately wanted to be her whole life, wasn't she?
Barely a glance is spared her way as she's brought to the elevator. They're all cramped together and the tip of a baton brush against her thigh as one of the guards shifts on his feet, hands laced together in front of him. She tries to lean away, and ends up feeling the leather gun holster of another guard against her arm.
The elevator gears whir as it heaves them up three floors. As the doors open, instinct has her digging her heels into the ground. The feeling of something infinitesimally worse looms over her and weighs her down.
"I said to keep walking. Maybe you should be thrown down in the tunnels for a night — learn your place." Edgar shoved her out of the elevator. "You can replace the guys down there and map out the rest of the system all on your own, make yourself useful."
He doesn't have to tell her what's lurking down their but she has a strong idea. That's how the demon-dogs must be travelling so quickly all over Hawkins, springing up from the darkness unseen. How long had the tunnels been there, right beneath their feet?
There's a light murmuring between employees crowded in the hallway as they glance around, trying to find meaning in the unending wail of the alarm. They give the guards as wide a berth as the narrow hallway will allow.
"Is she one of them?" Diane hears one of the scientists whisper.
They come to an abrupt stop and Edgar knocks on a door, already swinging it open before there's a reply. He pushes her in. Of the three office desks inside, only one is occupied.
A portly old man stands up, readjusting his suit crinkling from too many hours spent in the office. In no particular hurry, he ambles towards her. He pockets his reading glasses and hums with disapproval as he gives her a one-over before turning his attention towards the guards.
Edgar appeared to have no problem leading the doctor to believe all the injuries marking her body were of his making as he raised a brow. "If you got a problem with how we deliver goods, take it up with my boss."
The doctors eyes flitted over Diane's face before returning to Edgar with thinly veiled exasperation. "I think I'll be taking you up on that offer."
"Yeah let me know how the paper work goes." Edgar said with a derisive flash of his teeth.
"You can uncuff her." The doctor says with an impatient wave of his hand.
For the first time, another guard speaks up. "We've been informed that the subject—"
"I'm well aware of who she is." The doctors tone is clipped, before he turns to Diane. "Do you harbour ill intent towards my wellbeing?"
She's shaking her head on instinct nearly before her mind processes his words. Imagining hurting someone was one thing, but the intent to go through with it was entirely another.
"You see, there's nothing to worry about. But for everyones peace of mind why don't you two," he pointed to two guards at random, "stand guard outside? If you hear anything suspicious in here, well, I'll trust you to do your jobs."
The two nameless guards glance at each other.
The doctor stalks towards his chair, sharply navigating around the desk. "Clearly, you find her dangerous. If anything happens to me, you two gentlemen will be the first to have the last laugh, won't you?"
They shrugged, accepting his proposal. Someone gripped her arms and removes the handcuffs. The blood rushes back like the ocean desperate to greet the beach at high tide. She rubs her wrists, trying to numb the sudden sharp pain.
Edgar turns his attention back to Diane with a wink. "See you later, Experiment."
The wooden door blocks the worst of the alarm and the dimly lit office is a welcome reprieve. The doctor didn't have to scrutinise her to see her wide eyes and shallow breathing. He seemed to take some pity on her and he speaks in an amicable manner, but it does nothing to placate her.
"Guards, they're like dogs. You can give them a simple order, but cannot expect any nuance." He said as he opened a drawer in his desk, and plucked out a cough drop. "Want one?"
The soreness in the muscles of her stomach where Edgar had punched is a dull reminder of what the Hawkins National Laboratory is capable of. She shook her head.
The doctor leaned back in his chair, perfectly content despite the siren in the hallway. "I'm sure you have some questions."
One prominent, pressing question. "Why am I here?"
His eyes became distant as he loses himself in thought. "It's been quite the time since you were here last, so let me give you some understanding as to what we do here. When we first began it was difficult to secure the government's full support and funding. We were desperate for candidates to show them the effectiveness of this new form of — governmental instruments." He said. "Our co-workers wanted to showcase the potential of their project as well. The first three children came from our very own employees."
"My parents." She breathed.
He smiled. "Indeed. But ah, we ended up discontinuing the intake of new participants."
"Why did you stop?" She asked.
"I'm not privileged to discuss that."
"What about why you let me go? Instead of just keeping me here?"
He sighed heavily. "Diane, — can I call you Diane? — for a brief year our scans picked up on altered brain waves, but then you were, well, simply put, normal. It was a pity. We had high hopes."
"If I'm useless to you, why bring me back?"
"I'm led to believe your abilities have remained dormant for years. You were dismissed quite early on; your trials always came back as the weakest. " He laced his hands together. "We're not sure why yet, but your initial diagnosis has changed. Why they have become active now is of interest to me — as I'm sure it is to you."
My trials.
Her stomach lurches. There were others, then.
"How many other experiments were more successful?" The more information he gave her the easier she could make sense of this jumbled puzzle.
"My focus is on you, Diane, no one else. My aim is to see what we can accomplish, together." He said.
"But I'm being forced to do this, aren't I?" She asked.
"Diane, we're professionals — scientists. No one is going to do something without your consent. Our goal is to make you feel like you have a place here." He said. The way he kept uttering her name was the crooning of a huntsman pacifying a skittish animal.
Her eyes dart around the enclosed space. The feeling of the handcuffs lingers on her skin. Here, consent meant forced cooperation. "You said I had altered brain waves. What did you mean?"
"There were signs of neurological excitement when exposed to the biological environment." He said.
That couldn't be right. She may have grown up surrounded by large swaths of forest, but she'd never felt particularly more drawn to nature than anyone else in Hawkins. She'd never had an overwhelming desire for owning pets of any kind, either.
Then there'd been the demondog. It had felt like a fragile, invisible string had been pulling them together and for a brief moment a connection had blurred the predator-prey line into neutrality. There had been an inexplicable draw to the creature, and its reaction was equally as unexplainable.
Everything she couldn't quite understand yet had only happened in the past week. "The pills you've given me probably prevented it." She guessed.
Immediately she regretted offering her opinion as the crease between his brow deepens. "What pills?"
"M-maybe it wasn't your lab. Just, you know, standard painkillers — usually I just got them from the apothecary."
In her rambling he loses interest. He glances out the window that oversees the dark forest. He cuts away from the subject and circles around another.
"Michael Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, and William Beyers have grown up with each other. You spend a lot of time with Dustin Henderson." He noted.
"I babysit for him. Occasionally." Diane said slowly as she tried to figure out where this conversation was headed.
"And how many encounters have you had with Participant Eleven?" The doctor asked.
"I don't think any. I've never even heard of him." Diane replied.
"Eleven has been seen around Hawkins by multiple witnesses. She's a grave threat to the citizens she encounters and we have every reason to believe she's been manipulating fellow children to hide her. We need someone who can understand like a fellow participant does to help us find her and bring her back safely." He said.
Her brow furrowed. "I don't know how someone like that would think. I don't even know what's happening to me."
"Diane, you need to understand that that child is potently dangerous. With a still-developing mind she is extremely mentally unstable. It is imperative that everyone in the facility cooperate to contain her. We can help her here. "
She snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, children are crazy. Their finger-paint art is a mess."
His face remained stern. "You did not have the ability to open up alternate dimensions and allow a creation that threatens humanity into this world."
She opened her mouth to retort but found no rebuttal. Everything that happened — that was one girl? Everything the kids had been telling her had been true.
Experiment Elevens upbringing must have been cold and clinical in the laboratories. How could they do that to a child?
But if that girl had been the one ensuring the destruction? Then she had inadvertently killed Benny, and those other missing kids, and Barb — god, Barb. And who knew who else that government had covered up? Who knew best what she was capable of, than the place that had created her.
Were they going to do the same to her, if she stayed here long enough?
"Are you going to kill her?" She asked.
His smile was tight. "I'm not in a position to speak more about Experiment Eleven at this moment. I simply wanted you to understand the dangers she poses to you, your family, everyone in Hawkins — the world. Everything we do here . . . it's all new territory. The participants in these studies can be dangerous, if not handled correctly."
Participants like her. She dug her fingernails into her palm. After this conversation, was she going to be led underground and kept in a cell? How long would she be in there? She wanted to cry out that she wasn't dangerous. She wouldn't hurt anyone — well, she'd lashed out at Billy after all his provocations had been too much for her already fraught patience. He hadn't looked the slightest bit hurt but the guilt would stay with her for a long time. The guilt bubbled up like tar in her consciousness with what she'd witnessed at his house, along with her own lashing action.
"This . . . " She pointed to the scar on her wrist, the one she'd had before she could even recall, "does this have to do with the experimentations?"
He pulled the chair closer towards the table and nodded. "It used to be a mark, just a simple procedure for categorisation. Of course, with your latent abilities, it was decided amongst the staff to have the marks removed while you received a standard education during your formative years. You were still young enough that we didn't have to worry about altering any documentation for you."
They said they needed her. Wanted her to help find some other experiment. If she agreed to help, they'd need to let her out again, wouldn't they? All she knew right now was that she needed to get away from this building, and then tomorrow she'd figure out everything else, including who Experiment Eleven was. And if she cooperated, they'd need to tell her more about Eleven.
"I want to help you. On one condition." She said as the wailing alarm continues without respite. He laced hands as he leaned forwards; she had his interest. She pulled up her sleeve, exposing the little white scar on her forearm. "Mark me again."
Clearly he hadn't been expecting that by the way he grasped for an answer for a few seconds. Then, he broke into a small smile that didn't quite seem to reach his eyes. "Welcome back, Zero-Zero-Three."
Her lip quirked, like they were on the same page. The blood was roaring in her ears. "I assume there'll be more paperwork for me to sign."
"You won't be expected to sign much more."
The more she cooperated, the higher chance they'd let their guard down, maybe even let her walk out of here on her own. Enemies made better friends.
Alone in a sterile white room, she strips down to her underwear and hastily slips into the light blue hospital gown. Shaking fingers fumble with the strings in the back before she manages to cinch the gown together, pulling the knot extra tight around the base of her neck.
She bundles up her shoes and clothes and cradles them in her arms as she pushes down the door handle with her elbow. In the adjacent room are two computers on top of an electric board filled with knobs and dials. Two scientists were staring back at her.
Some of the scientists looked at her with piqued interest, and others with thinly veiled disgust. But all of them were the same, looking at her like she wasn't human.
They sit her down and order her not to move as one brandishes a tattoo machine attached to a long black wire that coils across the floor. The doctor giving her instructions not to move inside the MRI seem to float far above her as the handheld tattoo gun buzzes away. The ink sunk into her skin, black branded permanence of her experimental nature. The pain is distant in her distraction while the doctor wipes away the welling blood, placing white gauze over the finished result. 003.
The large, clunky white machine reminds her of the pencil sharpeners in every classroom in Hawkins High; of course the MRI has no crank. She lies down onto the bed as instructed before they strap in her, grey bands wrapping around her torso and legs. They push her forwards and slowly, she's swallowed by the machine. The enclosed space feels like it's shrinking in size and she swallows, staring up at the blank white wall as she attempts to steady her breathing.
There's an abrasive sound akin to rusty gears grinding against each other. Pings echo around her like she's been transported to the arcade, surrounded by games beckoning her to come play. It whirs around her as it tries to figure her out. The sounds coalesce into metallic cacophony.
The lights flickered, then shut off, catapulting them into darkness. Energy hummed through the building as the emergency back-up system sprang to life, and the lights flickered back on. Running on reserve energy, they barely illuminated the room.
Stuck inside the MRI, Diane glanced around, trying to look down the mechanical tunnel for some insight. "Is something going on?" She asked, but was greeted with silence. She tried again, louder this time. "Is something wrong?" Her voice fights to be heard over the whirring.
There's a muted gunshot. Even through the door and against the blaring alarm she can hear a scream. She swears she hears the door open as the doctors presumably flee the room and she tries to twist and turn as she tries to find an angle to see what's happening. The orange light flares and wanes inside the MRI. The door must be wide open.
She struggled against the velcro binds. They begin to loosen with an abrasive tear. One leg at a time, she jerks out of the velcro grasp, before wiggling downwards, sliding beneath the bind that had gone across her torso.
The scientists had really fled the room, leaving her behind. She skirts the control panel and does a double-take as she sees the black-and-white images on the computers. That can't be right. Her brain was lighting up like clusters of fireworks on the Fourth of July. The machine had to have malfunctioned with the power outage. There's another scream and her eyes are torn away from the image.
She steps out into the hallway into the fray of frenzied terror. Papers are scattered across the floor where people dropped their files in a hurry to escape. The once collected employees are now struggling against each other, shoulders and elbows colliding as they round the corner in haste to escape the horrors that chase them with inhumanly keen senses. Someone is unloading an entire round from a rifle, and the steady flow of bullets comes to an abrupt stop. A yell escalates into a scream before its cut off. The hallway becomes empty.
The alarm warbled, faltering in its unending warning. It dropped in pitch like the system was careening off a cliff. The alarm spluttered before it too fell silent. The lights flickered. Her hand flew up to cover her face as the light above her fractured and glass rains down. There's the inhuman, dry-rattling howl of a demondog.
As she hastily backs up into the room, she trips over the snaking black wire and lands with a thud. Hastily she jerks forwards and shoves the door shut with her foot. She scrambles upwards and grabs her shoes, jumping around the room as she wrestles into them, hair swinging in front of her face.
There's the soft thud of paws and she freezes. Two paws in the form of shadows appear beneath the crack in the door. There's nowhere for her to hide.
A/N:
Belovedfinch11: Max and Billy might still have a frayed (half-)sibling relationship at the moment, but they can begrudgingly put their differences aside to tackle the weirdness of Hawkins together. As for Edgar, I can't promise this chapter is the last you've seen of him.
AlphaSith: Fluff will follow angst!
nataliamontes13: thanks :)
Starwarslover: Please don't die