Dove sat slumped against the wall of the elevator, her back pressed against the cool, metallic surface. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, and she stared blankly at the ceiling, her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against her thigh. The dim lights above flickered faintly, casting shifting shadows that seemed to close in on them.
She had stopped counting how long they'd been trapped after it hit 4 a.m.. Time didn't seem to matter anymore, not when the walls felt like they were closing in and there was no way out.
At some point, she had dozed off, but the brief escape had been far from restful. Nightmares had plagued her, vivid and relentless, dragging her back to the tunnels of the Upside Down. The choking air, the writhing vines, the tremors beneath her feet—it all replayed in her mind, leaving her heart racing and her body tense even after she'd woken.
Dove rubbed her eyes, her exhaustion pressing down on her like a weight. It was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into her bones and made it hard to think straight. Her muscles ached from the endless tension, her mind clouded with fear and frustration.
She glanced toward Dustin, still perched on the roof of the elevator, his walkie in hand as he attempted to contact someone—anyone—on the surface. Dove had half-heartedly suggested it an hour ago, not because she thought it would work, but because she couldn't stand the weight of his expectant stares any longer. It was a weak, desperate idea, and she hated herself for it.
Her eyes drifted back to the ceiling, tracing the faint lines where the panels met. A deep, sinking dread twisted in her stomach. They were all looking to her, waiting for her to pull some miracle out of thin air. But she had nothing. No plan. No way out.
The reality of it was crushing. Every second they spent down here felt like a failure, and she was the one who had dragged them into it. She'd told herself she could handle this, that she could piece it all together, but now she was realizing how out of her depth she really was.
She rubbed a hand over her face, willing herself not to break down. Even though she didn't know what to do, she couldn't let the others see her fall apart.
Her fingers tapped faster against her thigh. They were trapped, buried God-knows-how-far underground with no way out and no hope of rescue.
From the roof, Dustin's voice cut through the heavy silence as he spoke into the walkie. "I repeat. Does anybody copy? This is Dustin Henderson! An innocent child!"
Each crackle of static after his call felt like a punch to the gut. No one was listening. Dove could hear the frustration mounting in her brother's voice, but she could also feel her own nerves fraying as the hours dragged by.
Steve paced back and forth, kicking at the occasional piece of debris on the floor. His frustration simmered just below the surface. "How long has it been?" he asked, glancing at Dove.
"Too long," she said, her voice low as she checked the time on her watch. "It's almost 8 a.m.."
"We are innocent children trapped in a secret Russian elevator." Dustin's voice echoed through the room. "This isn't a joke." He added quickly.
Steve groaned, throwing himself onto the floor next to Dove in an exaggerated motion of defeat. "We're gonna die down here," he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes. "We'll starve. We'll run out of oxygen. This is it."
Dove rolled her eyes, though her irritation barely masked the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. The floor felt unnervingly solid beneath her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were sitting in the belly of some mechanical beast, deep under the mall, with no way out.
"We're not gonna die," she said, though even to her own ears, the words didn't sound entirely convincing. "We'll figure it out."
Steve peeked at her from under his arm, his face scrunched up in disbelief.
"We've gotten through worse," Dove added, glancing over at him with a forced smile.
From across the cramped space, Robin let out a sarcastic laugh. "What could possibly be worse than this? We are literally stuck in an evil Russian elevator with no way out."
Dove's forced smile faltered for a moment as Robin's words hung in the stale air, the weight of them undeniable. She glanced at Steve, who shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders betraying the casualness of the gesture.
Dustin's voice cut through the moment, his tone filled with relentless determination. "Does anyone copy? This is a code red, I repeat, a code red. We are innocent children, and we are trapped under Starcourt Mall." His voice had taken on a melodramatic edge, and Dove sighed, listening to his nonsensical pleas with no one. "The Red Army has infiltrated Hawkins, and if we are found, they will torture and kill us."
"Hey," Steve said flatly, standing up and climbing onto the table, his head poking through the hatch in the ceiling as he looked over at Dustin. "You gotta take it easy on that thing, man. You're gonna drain the battery."
"The mall just opened," Dustin shot back, his frustration palpable. "Someone could be in range."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "And what, you think Petey the Mall Cop is gonna rappel down here and save the day?" His tone dripped with sarcasm as he climbed the rest of the way onto the roof of the elevator.
"Why are you such a cranky pants?" Dustin huffed, his voice dropping just enough to mutter another jab that Dove couldn't quite hear.
Steve frantically shushed him, his head snapping back down into the elevator. His eyes locked with Dove's for a split second, panic flickering across his face, before he quickly pulled himself back up, disappearing onto the roof again.
Dove ran her fingers through her hair, the weight of the situation settling heavily on her shoulders. She pushed herself to her feet, pacing the cramped space. Her eyes darted across the dull metal walls, desperate for any sign of a solution. "Any luck?" she asked Robin, who was hunched near the control panel, her fingers deftly tinkering with wires and buttons in what was clearly a futile attempt to force the door open.
Robin glanced up and shook her head, her face tight with frustration. Before Dove could respond, a strange sound cut through the tense silence—a steady stream of liquid splattering against the wall.
They both turned in unison, horrified to see the source of the sound. The stream was hitting the wall behind the shelves, the cause obvious and uncomfortably human.
Robin's face twisted in disgust. "Can you redirect your stream, please?" she called out, her voice tinged with both disbelief and irritation.
The stream veered to the side, and Dove could only shake her head in disbelief. She caught Robin's eye, and despite themselves, they both let out a breathy laugh. The absurdity of it all—the Russian elevator, the glowing goo, and now this—hit them at once, melting a layer of tension between them.
"Your boy is really out here marking his territory," Robin said, barely able to contain her snickering.
"Not my boy," Dove muttered, though her lips twitched into a reluctant grin. "He's all yours now."
Robin shook her head, grinning back. "Hard pass."
Their laughter was abruptly cut short by a loud, metallic bang. Dove spun around, her pulse quickening, just in time to see Erica wielding the metal cylinder with the glowing liquid, slamming it against a silver barrel in the corner. Her expression was one of casual indifference, but the sight sent a jolt of panic through Dove.
"Be careful with that!" Dove exclaimed, rushing forward and snatching the cylinder from Erica's hands. "We don't even know what this is!"
Erica raised an eyebrow, undeterred by Dove's concern. "Exactly. It could be useful."
"Useful how?" Robin chimed in, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly not convinced.
"We can survive down here a long time without food," Erica said, smirking. "But if the human body doesn't get water, it will die."
Robin rolled her eyes. "I hate to break it to you, but that is not water."
Erica shrugged, her smirk growing. "If it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink."
A distant mechanical whirring sound cut through the air, echoing ominously from outside the elevator. Dove's heart skipped a beat as she turned toward the wall. The strange noise sent a wave of unease through the group, silencing the banter.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Erica snatched the cylinder back from Dove's hands, but Dove didn't react, her focus now entirely on the faint sound coming from beyond the walls. She pressed her ear against the cold metal, feeling her pulse quicken as Robin mirrored her movements, listening closely.
The whirring grew louder, the sound vibrating through the metal walls, sending a shiver down Dove's spine. Her breath quickened as she realized the noise wasn't just ambient—it was moving toward them. Fast.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her wide eyes meeting Robin's as the tension in the room thickened.
Without wasting another second, Robin darted toward the table in the middle of the room, climbing up onto it in one fluid motion. She poked her head up through the ceiling hatch. "We've got company," she said, her voice tense as she hoisted herself onto the roof with Dustin and Steve.
Panic gripped Dove's chest, but she forced herself to move. She spun toward Erica, who had already started grabbing their things. Dove helped her gather their belongings, quickly tossing them up to Steve, who caught them with hurried hands. Dove pushed Erica toward the table, helping her climb up and onto the roof before Steve grabbed Dove's arm, yanking her up just as the doors below began to creak open.
Dove's heart thundered in her ears as she slowly reached down, carefully closing the ceiling hatch, her fingers shaking as she tried to be as silent as possible. The soft click of the hatch closing echoed ominously in the cramped space, but the group remained motionless, holding their breath.
Below them, two men in blue uniforms stepped inside, one of them lazily smoking a cigarette. Their voices filled the elevator, deep and rough, as they spoke back and forth in Russian. The smoke from the cigarette curled up into the air, snaking its way toward the ceiling where Dove, Steve, Robin, Erica, and Dustin crouched, low on the metal roof, praying they wouldn't be noticed.
The men moved with mechanical precision, unloading box after box from the elevator. Dove's muscles tensed with each thud as the boxes hit the floor, her fingers digging into the rough surface beneath her. She exchanged a nervous glance with Steve, who was watching the scene unfold below them, his jaw clenched.
As the men unloaded the last of the boxes, Steve's eyes flicked up toward Erica, who was still clutching the strange metal cylinder. His eyes widened in realization. Before any of them could react, the elevator doors began to slide shut.
Steve acted fast. He lunged forward, snatching the container from Erica's hands and leapt from the roof, wedging the cylinder under the door just in time. The door stopped, caught by the container, but the strain was evident.
"Move, now!" Steve whispered harshly, his voice filled with urgency.
The group scrambled to follow, jumping down from the roof one by one. Erica crawled through, her small frame making it easier to slip past the barely-opened door. Dustin and Robin slipped under next, their bodies squeezing through the narrow gap as the metal began to groan under the pressure.
Dove's heart raced as she slid down, her hands grazing the cold metal floor as she hurried to the door. The cylinder beneath the door began to crack, a sharp hiss escaping from it as the pressure mounted. Steve was right behind her, his face twisted in concentration as they both scrambled under the door, just in time.
The moment they were clear, the door slammed shut with a deafening clang, the crushing force smashing the cylinder to pieces. Dove froze, scrambling back as the green substance bubbled and hissed, the acrid smell of something toxic burning through the air. The floor sizzled where the liquid dripped, holes appearing in the metal like it was being eaten alive.
Steve's hand gripped her arm, pulling her upright with a look of shock on his face. "That was way too close."
"You still wanna drink that?" Robin quipped, leaning over the sizzling mess with Erica, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Holy mother of God," Dustin muttered from behind them, pulling their attention away from the floor. Dove followed his gaze, and her eyes widened in disbelief.
Stretching out in front of them was a long and menacing hallway, illuminated by a series of cold, fluorescent lights embedded in the ceiling. The metallic walls, lined with industrial piping that ran the length of the corridor on both sides, gave the space a claustrophobic feel, as if the structure itself was closing in around them. The smooth, glossy floor reflected the pale light above, casting an eerie red and blue hue. The air was cooler here, sharp and sterile, carrying a faint metallic scent that clung to the back of their throats. The clean lines and precise, almost military construction of the space gave it a cold, lifeless quality.
Dove reached into her bag, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled out her Polaroid camera. Without a word, she lifted it, the soft whir of the mechanism breaking the silence as she took a photo. The flash lit up the hallway for a brief moment, making the shadows jump and dance. She shook the photo, tucking it into her bag without looking at it.
"Why the hell are you taking pictures right now?" Robin asked, her voice sharp but not without curiosity.
"Evidence," Dove replied simply, her gaze still fixed down the hallway. "In case we actually make it out of here."
"Cheery thought," Steve muttered, brushing past her, already walking toward the hallway. "Well, hope you guys are in good shape. Let's go, come on."
They trudged forward, every step echoing ominously in the quiet, the rhythmic clank of their footsteps amplified by the acoustics of the narrow space. The air felt thick, heavy with the knowledge that something bigger was lurking ahead. Dustin, however, seemed unfazed, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked around, clearly impressed.
Dove caught his expression and shot him a look. "Would you mind telling me exactly which part of our situation is funny to you?"
Dustin gestured grandly, his arms swinging wide. "I mean, you have to admit, as a feat of engineering, this is impressive."
Steve scoffed, glancing over his shoulder. "What are you talking about? This place is total a fire hazard. No stairs, no exits, just an elevator that drops you halfway to hell."
"They're Commies," Erica said flatly, her arms crossed. "You don't pay people, they cut corners."
"To be fair to our Russian comrades," Robin chimed in, "I don't think this tunnel was designed for walking. They've built the perfect system for transporting that cargo."
"It all comes into the mall like any old delivery," Dustin added, his tone growing more serious.
"And then they load it up onto those trucks, and nobody's the wiser," Robin finished, nodding.
Steve furrowed his brow. "You think they built this whole mall just to transport that green poison?"
"I know they did," Dove said carefully, her voice carrying down the hallway. She glanced at Steve, her face etched with worry. "Not just for the green stuff, though. For something much worse. Something top secret."
Steve looked confused, his eyes narrowing as he tried to piece together what she was saying, but it didn't seem to click.
"Like promethium?" Dustin asked.
"What the hell is promethium?" Steve questioned, clearly exasperated.
"It's what Victor Stone's dad used to make Cyborg's bionic and cybernetic components," Robin explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You're all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill," Erica muttered.
"No, no, no." Steve groaned, throwing his hands up. "Don't lump me in with them. I'm not a nerd, all right?"
Dove raised an eyebrow, casting him a sideways glance. "Your best friend is a thirteen-year-old. What exactly would you call that?"
Steve shot her a look, holding up a finger like he was about to make a point. "It is not my fault that your brother is good company, okay?"
"Why so sensitive, Harrington?" Robin teased, her grin widening. "Afraid of losing cool points to a ten-year-old?"
"No," Steve shot back, his voice rising defensively, "I just don't know jack shit about Prometheus."
"Promethium," Dustin corrected. "Prometheus is a Greek mythology figure, but whatever. All I'm saying is, it's probably being used to make something."
"Or power something," Robin added thoughtfully.
Dove's stomach twisted, Robin's words hitting her like a ton of bricks. The pieces finally clicked into place. Her breath hitched as the weight of the realization hit her. "Oh my God," she whispered, stopping dead in her tracks. The sudden dizziness made her sway slightly.
Steve turned sharply, his concern etched across his face. "What is it?"
Dove's heart raced as she met his gaze. This was it. She should tell him the truth—about the law firm, the pictures, and what she had seen. Her lips parted, ready to spill everything, but then her eyes darted past Steve. Robin had stopped and turned, her brows furrowed in suspicion. Erica stood next to her, arms crossed and looking entirely unimpressed, as if she had no patience for drama.
Dove swallowed hard, her throat dry. "It's nothing," she lied, her voice tight. "Let's just keep going."
Steve's gaze lingered on Dove, his eyes narrowing slightly as though he could sense something was off. Before he could press her further, Robin let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to continue walking, Erica trailing behind her with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
Dove exhaled shakily, relief flickering briefly before the crushing weight of her secret pressed harder on her chest. Without thinking, she reached out, grabbing both Dustin and Steve's arms to stop them in their tracks.
Once Robin and Erica were a safe distance ahead, Dove leaned in, her voice low and urgent. "It's a gate."
Dustin frowned, his head tilting in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"The Russians," she said, her words clipped and deliberate, "are building a gate."
Recognition dawned on both Steve and Dustin's faces, the same look of dread spreading between them.
"How do you know that?" Dustin whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
"There were pictures," Dove admitted quickly, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Robin and Erica weren't within earshot. "They were blurry, I could barely make out what they were."
Dustin's hands shot into the air, his frustration bubbling over. "And you didn't think to tell us this sooner?"
"Of course I did!" Dove shot back, her voice sharp but restrained. "It's all I've been thinking about, Dustin, but when exactly was I supposed to bring it up? Bennett made it pretty clear not to involve anyone else."
Steve let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. "So, all of this—the mall, the Russians—it's because of the Upside Down?"
"Uh, excuse me," Robin's voice echoed ahead of them, snapping them out of their hushed conversation. "Is there something the three of you would like to share with the rest of the class?"
Before any of them could answer, static crackled through Erica's bag, and a man's voice echoed down the hall, speaking in Russian.
Dustin, Steve, and Dove rushed forward as Erica crouched down to grab the walkie from her bag. Robin extended the antenna, listening intently to the transmission.
Dove's heart skipped a beat. "It's the code."
Dustin nodded. "Wherever that broadcast is coming from—"
"It's close," Robin finished, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes darted between them, her expression filled with purpose. "And if there's one thing we know about that signal.."
"It can reach the surface." Dustin said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Let's go." Robin said, standing.
As the group continued down the narrow, dimly lit hallway, the faint sound of a vehicle began to echo from the distance. The low hum of an engine grew louder, sending a jolt of adrenaline through them all.
Steve, his senses on high alert, quickly raised a hand, ushering them toward a large metal storage container that was tucked away against the wall. They all scrambled behind it, crouching low and holding their breaths as the vehicle rolled past.
From their hiding spot, Dove could see the wheels of a small, electric cart zooming by. Two Russian soldiers sat at the front, completely unaware of the intruders hidden just a few feet away. The cart continued on its path down the hallway, disappearing around a corner.
Steve, peeking cautiously around the edge of the container, exhaled in relief. "Coast is clear," he whispered, stepping out from their hiding spot. The others quickly followed, moving as quietly as possible.
They turned the corner and suddenly, the narrow, cramped hallway opened into a massive, bustling room. Dove's eyes widened at the sight. The place was full of activity—Russian soldiers, scientists, and workers moved between different sections, some carrying crates, others engaged in hushed conversations. Overhead, metal catwalks crisscrossed the room, lined with armed guards. The hum of machines filled the air, creating a tense, industrial symphony.
The sheer scale of the room made her stomach churn. They weren't supposed to be here. This was way beyond anything she'd imagined.
"Get down!" Steve hissed, pulling Dove down with him as they quickly ducked behind a red metal box. The cold metal pressed against Dove's back as she tried to steady her breathing, her pulse thundering in her ears.
They all crouched low, keeping their heads down.
"I saw it. First floor, northwest." Erica whispered.
"Saw what?" Steve asked.
"The comms room."
"You saw the comms room?"
"Correct."
"Are you sure?" Dustin asked.
"Positive." she said. "The door was open for a second, and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there."
"That could be a hundred different things." Dustin stated.
"Anyone have a better plan?" Dove asked.
Steve shook his head, sighing as he peered around the corner. "All right." he whispered, looking back at them. "We're gonna move fast, we're gonna stay low. Okay?"
After a series of nods, Steve crawled out first, staying as low to the ground as he could, moving quickly to the left. The others followed in a tight line, crouching behind a series of large plastic barrels for cover. A man in a white lab coat emerged from a nearby door, and Steve seized the moment, darting toward it just in time to wedge his hand in before it shut. He turned back, waving the others forward urgently.
They slipped through the door, and Steve eased it shut behind them with a soft click. Dove barely had time to take in the sterile, dimly lit control room before her heart froze. A man in a Russian military uniform sat at a console, his back to them. The faint sound of the door had clearly caught his attention; he turned slowly, his eyes locking on them. The moment his hand moved toward his holster, Dove's breath caught in her throat.
"Tread lightly!" Robin blurted in fluent Russian, stepping forward with her hands up in what she hoped looked like a non-threatening gesture.
The guard's brow furrowed. "Who are you?" he demanded in Russian, his voice sharp.
Robin's mind raced, her tone steady but firm. "Silver cat." she said, pointing to herself with conviction. "Silver cat."
The guard's expression darkened. "I don't understand."
Robin shot a desperate glance over her shoulder at Dove, her wide eyes practically begging for help. Dove's stomach flipped, the weight of the moment crashing down on her.
Her eyes darted to the Russian soldier's holster, noting the gun resting within easy reach. The realization hit hard: there was no way she could make a move without getting them all killed. Her mind raced, and instinct kicked in. She took a subtle step forward, her arm extending slightly to the side, positioning herself between the soldier and Dustin and Erica as much as she could without drawing too much attention.
Her throat felt dry, and her voice almost failed her as she spoke, her Russian halting and soft. "Nash boss—mudak."
The words barely came out above a whisper, and she winced at the lack of conviction in her tone. But it was enough. The soldier's head cocked to the side, his brows knitting together in confusion. His confusion worked in their favor. His grip on his holster loosened slightly, his posture relaxing just enough.
That was all Steve needed.
With a burst of speed, Steve lunged forward with a feral yell. His body collided with the guard's in a blur of motion, the two of them slamming into a nearby table. The impact sent a cascade of metal equipment crashing to the floor, the clang echoing through the room like an alarm.
The guard hurled Steve off him with a guttural growl, sending him sprawling. Steve stumbled, barely catching himself before the guard charged forward again. His fist flew toward Steve's jaw in a deadly arc, but Steve managed to lean back just in time, the punch grazing past him.
Before Steve could counter, the guard grabbed the front of his shirt with a vice-like grip and yanked him forward, slamming him against the control console. The impact knocked the air out of Steve's lungs, the edge of the console digging cruelly into his ribs.
The guard pulled back for another hit, but Steve reacted instinctively. With a desperate grunt, he drove his elbow into the guard's stomach, hard enough to make him stumble back with a sharp gasp.
Steve, panting and desperate, glanced at the control console. His hand shot out, grabbing the microphone and swinging it with all his strength, the heavy base connecting with the guard's head. The sharp crack echoed in the room.
The guard reeled from the impact, his body twisting as he lost his footing. He staggered backward, colliding with a metal table. His head hit the sharp edge with a sickening thud before his body crumpled to the ground, motionless.
Steve stood frozen, chest heaving as he stared at the unconscious figure. The microphone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
"Is he..?" Robin's voice broke the silence, shaky but sharp.
"I don't know," Steve replied, his voice hoarse. He backed away from the guard's limp form, his hands shaking. "I didn't—I didn't mean to—"
Dove rushed forward, crouching beside the guard and pressing two fingers against his neck. She exhaled shakily, looking back at the others. "He's alive."
Steve sighed in relief, his chest heaving as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, the tension slowly easing from his muscles as the reality of the fight set in.
"Dude!" Dustin's voice cut through the stunned silence, loud and full of awe as he pointed at Steve with wide eyes. "You did it! You won a fight!"
Steve blinked, still in a daze, then looked down at the guard, a shaky laugh escaping his lips.
Dove didn't waste a second. Her hands trembled slightly as she fumbled through the guard's pockets, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Her fingers closed around something solid—a keycard. She pulled it free and tossed it over her shoulder without looking.
"Dustin, catch!" she called, her voice taut with urgency.
Dustin scrambled to grab the card, clutching it tightly as he examined it with wide eyes. "This is our ticket out of here," he muttered, his tone half in awe, half in disbelief.
Erica raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You want to walk all the way back? Seriously?"
Dustin shrugged, taking a step toward her, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, we can hang out for a little bit, relax, maybe have a picnic."
"Have a picnic?!" Erica shot back, incredulous. "We came here for the radio, remember?"
"This plan is way better! If I knew Steve could knock out a Russian, it would've—"
"Help me get his clothes off," Dove interrupted, her voice steady but her eyes locked on the soldier lying unconscious on the floor.
Erica blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me? Did you just say 'help me get his clothes off'?"
Dove glanced at her, her expression unyielding. "Unless you have a better idea to help us get out of here?"
Dustin stepped closer, holding up the keycard like it was a golden ticket. "Why don't we just use this and get out of here? No undressing required."
"And where do you think that keycard leads, genius?" Dove snapped, turning her sharp gaze on him. "If this is their operation, you think they don't have checkpoints or guards posted? That isn't a free pass to safety, it's just one step."
Erica crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. "I am not touching his clothes."
"Then stand over there and keep watch," Dove said curtly, motioning toward the door. She didn't wait for a response before crouching back down and pulling the guard's jacket free.
Dove slid the jacket on, the stiff fabric heavy on her shoulders. It didn't fit perfectly, but it would have to do. She crouched down again, unbuckling the guard's belt with practiced efficiency before tugging his pants free. The others stared, their expressions ranging from discomfort to disbelief.
Steve grimaced. "Yeah, uh, remind me never to piss you off."
"Noted," Dove said without looking up, her voice clipped as she shook out the pants. She slipped them over her shorts, the fabric loose and awkward but passable. Pulling the belt tight around her waist, she tucked the guard's gun into the waistband, its cold metal pressing against her side.
"Duct tape." she demanded, holding out a hand toward Erica without missing a beat.
Erica raised an eyebrow but shrugged off her bag, digging into it with exaggerated slowness. After a few moments, she produced the roll of duct tape, holding it out with a flourish.
Without a word, Dove snatched the roll and crouched down, quickly wrapping the tape around the guard's wrists and ankles in tight loops. The others watched silently, the sound of the tape tearing the only noise breaking the tense air. She and Steve dragged the unconscious man over to the wall, propping him up against it. The guard's head lolled to one side, completely unaware of his current predicament.
"Guys." Robin's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp with urgency. She emerged from a darkened doorway, her wide eyes fixed on the staircase ahead. She pointed, her finger trembling slightly. "There's something up there."
Dove exchanged a glance with Steve, his jaw tightening as they fell into step. The group moved in sync, the tension palpable as they ascended the staircase with careful, silent precision. The narrow steps creaked faintly under their weight, each sound magnified in the oppressive stillness.
At the top, Dove reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment as the group exchanged nervous glances. With a deep breath, she twisted the handle and pushed the door open, slipping through the gap and onto a narrow catwalk.
The space beyond was bathed in an eerie, pulsing blue light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The low hum of electricity thrummed in their ears, vibrating through the metal beneath their feet. The catwalk stretched out over a cavernous space, its railings lined with thick industrial cables that snaked along the edges.
Dove's breath caught as she approached the windows lining the catwalk. Her heart sank as the view beyond confirmed her worst fears. Below, in the center of the massive chamber, a colossal machine pulsed with unnatural energy. Its intricate design was both mesmerizing and terrifying, a mass of spinning rings, glowing nodes, and arcs of electricity. The energy beam crackled with terrifying power, its white-blue tendrils lashing out like lightning, illuminating the entire chamber in a menacing glow.
Workers in hazmat suits moved around the machine, adjusting dials, securing equipment, and monitoring displays. Some stood by crates, communicating over radios, while others stared intently at the machine's core as if expecting it to do something even more terrifying at any moment.
At the far end of the room, a glowing red mass twisted and writhed, pulsating with a red hue that seemed to bleed into the blue light surrounding it. It wasn't just a light—it was something alive, something otherworldly. Dove couldn't look away as the red mass seemed to stretch, its edges sparking with flashes of energy. Each pulse seemed to distort the very air around it, creating a hazy mirage of power.
Dove felt a chill race up her spine, sharp and icy, as if the very presence of the red mass had reached out and touched her. She shivered involuntarily, her breath hitching in her throat. The metallic tang in the air grew sharper, and a sudden, warm trickle down her upper lip made her freeze. She reached up, her fingers brushing against her nose, and when she pulled them back, they were smeared with blood.
"Dove?" Steve's voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to pull her from her daze. He had noticed her movement, his eyes wide with concern.
"I'm fine," Dove muttered quickly, wiping the blood away with the back of her hand, though the uneasy feeling twisted in her gut, refusing to settle.
Robin's voice broke the tension, barely above a whisper. "What the hell is that?" She leaned closer to the glass, her face pale, the eerie blue light casting sharp shadows across her features.
Dove's gaze didn't waver from the glowing red mass. Her voice was quiet but firm. "It's a gate."
Robin tore her eyes from the scene below and looked at Dove, her unease palpable. "A gate to what?"
The question hung in the air like a death sentence. Steve's jaw tightened, his fists clenching as he glanced between the others. Dove's heart pounded harder, the oppressive red and blue glow behind them making every shadow feel alive.
"We need to go," Dove said, her voice sharp with urgency. "We need to warn everyone." She turned on her heel and headed for the staircase, her steps quick and deliberate.
"I don't understand," Robin panted as she hurried down the steps alongside Steve. "You've seen this before?"
"Not exactly," Steve replied, his voice clipped, his grip tightening on the railing as they descended.
"Then what, exactly?" Robin pressed, exasperation lacing her words.
"All you need to know is it's bad." Dustin interjected, skipping the last two steps and landing with a thud. "Like end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it kind of bad."
Robin shot him a disbelieving glare. "And you know about this how?"
"Um, Steve?" Erica's voice piped up from the back of the group, alarm rising with every word. "Where's your Russian friend?"
Dove's heart dropped as her frantic gaze swept the room. A pile of ripped duct tape was discarded on the ground, the guard nowhere to be seen. Her stomach churned. "Shit," she muttered, dread thick in her voice.
Suddenly, a piercing alarm blared, the sound reverberating through the corridors like a death knell. The noise seemed to answer Erica's question. "Shit!" Dove hissed again, the panic hitting full force. She bolted to the nearest door, pressing her face against the narrow window.
Her blood turned to ice. Outside, the nearly naked Russian soldier she'd tied up was crouched, gesturing wildly to a group of armed soldiers. There were at least six of them, their uniforms sharp and menacing. One of them barked a command, and as their heads snapped toward the door, their eyes locked with Dove's.
"Shit!" she screamed, her voice cracking as she tore herself away from the window. "Go! Now!" Spinning on her heel, she bolted back toward the others, her mind racing.
They tore up the stairs, adrenaline pumping through their veins, their footfalls heavy and frantic as the soldiers outside began shouting. As they reached the top, the door burst open and they spilled out onto the catwalk, but they weren't alone. Several Russians turned from their stations, alerted by the commotion, their eyes narrowing in suspicion. The sound of boots hitting the floor behind them told Dove they had even less time than she'd feared.
Steve ran ahead, Dove close behind, as they charged left through another door, slamming it shut behind them. Their lungs burned from the exertion, but there was no time to slow down. The door rattled violently as the soldiers reached it, shouts in harsh Russian echoing down the hallway. Dove glanced back, her stomach knotting as she fumbled for the gun tucked into her waistband.
As they reached a steep staircase, the group hurtled down it, the metallic clang of their footsteps swallowed by the deafening hum of the facility. At the bottom, a cavernous chamber opened before them, dominated by the monstrous machine they'd seen earlier. The platform they stood on was below the main floor, the glowing red and blue light casting eerie shadows.
Steve skidded to a halt at the edge of the platform, muttering a curse as he scanned for an escape route. "This way!" he shouted, motioning to the right. He charged forward, shoving a startled Russian soldier who had appeared from a side corridor. The man stumbled, arms flailing, and pitched over the railing, his scream lost in the mechanical roar below.
Dove's hand trembled as she pulled the gun free, her sweaty palms struggling to find a secure grip. A flash of movement caught her eye—two soldiers closing in from the left. Heart racing, she raised the weapon, her hands shaking as she aimed. The shot rang out, the recoil jolting her arm. The bullet ricocheted off the railing, missing entirely.
"Shit," she muttered, adjusting her grip. The soldiers ducked behind cover, shouting orders in Russian.
"Keep moving!" Steve yelled, ducking under a low-hanging beam as he barreled forward.
Dove fired again, the second shot slamming into the wall behind the soldiers. One soldier returned fire, and she ducked instinctively, her breath hitching as the bullet pinged off the metal railing near her head.
Robin grabbed Dove's arm, pulling her forward. "Less aiming, more running!" she shouted, dragging Dove into motion.
They darted down another set of stairs, Steve tipping over a stack of barrels at the bottom. The barrels crashed to the floor, rolling into the legs of the pursuing soldiers, momentarily tripping them up. Dove turned mid-run, her heart in her throat as she fired again. One soldier dropped, clutching his leg, while the other dove for cover.
"You hit him!" Dustin yelled, his voice tinged with a mix of shock and awe.
Dove's stomach twisted. She didn't have time to process what she'd done. More soldiers were pouring in from side passages, their shouts growing louder.
They reached another door at the far end of the chamber. Steve slammed into it, throwing it open. Dove covered their retreat, firing twice more. One bullet grazed a soldier's shoulder, making him stagger, while the other missed entirely.
"Come on!" Steve shouted, holding the door as the group rushed in. Dove fired one last shot before diving through, the gun clicking empty as the door slammed shut behind her. The metal rattled violently, the soldiers on the other side pounding against it with furious shouts.
Dove tossed the empty gun aside, her eyes frantically scanning the room, looking for any way out. Her heart leapt when she spotted a metal hatch set into the floor on the far side of the room. "There!" she yelled, sprinting toward it. She dropped to her knees and wrenched the hatch open, the hinges groaning in protest. A blast of cold air rushed up from the dark, narrow passage below.
"Erica, go!" Dove urged, her voice sharp as she helped the younger girl scramble toward the opening. Erica hesitated for a split second, her wide eyes meeting Dove's, before she climbed into the hatch and disappeared into the shadows below.
The door behind Steve groaned ominously as it buckled under the soldiers' assault. He planted his shoulder against it, grunting with effort. Robin rushed to his side, bracing her back against the door to help. Together, they pushed with everything they had, but the door wasn't going to hold much longer.
"Get out of here!" Steve shouted, his voice edged with desperation as he looked at Dove, who was still kneeling by the hatch.
Dove froze, her chest heaving as she stared at him. Her instincts screamed to stay, to fight, but there wasn't time. Dustin was already halfway through the hatch, his small frame disappearing into the cold darkness.
"What the hell are you waiting for?!" Steve shouted, his frustration cutting through her hesitation. "Go!"
Their eyes locked, and in that brief moment, Dove saw the determination etched into his features. Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to act.
"I won't forget you!" Dustin's voice echoed up from below as he ducked into the passageway.
Dove dropped in after him, the cold metal scraping her hands. She turned, her heart clenching as she caught one last glimpse of Steve and Robin bracing the door.
Steve met her gaze, his expression firm but tinged with something unspoken. Then she pulled the hatch closed above her, plunging them into darkness.