Dove moved through the vents with mechanical precision, her breathing shallow as she tried to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain in her chest. The narrow space felt suffocating, the air thick with a metallic tang that clung to her senses. The only sound she was truly aware of was the rhythmic pounding of her heart, a relentless reminder of the weight pressing down on her chest.
Ahead of her, Dustin was explaining the Upside Down to Erica, his tone far too casual for the severity of the situation. Erica's snarky comments shot back at him in quick succession, the two of them bickering as they moved through the ducts, but Dove barely registered their argument.
The words passed over her like waves crashing against a shore, audible but not truly sinking in. Whenever Dustin or Erica directed a question toward her—asking for confirmation about the Demodogs, or about what happened in the tunnels—she mumbled something incoherent, her answers automatic, devoid of thought.
The metal vents groaned faintly under their weight, a sound that should've made Dove tense, but it barely registered. Her body moved on autopilot, each crawl forward feeling heavier than the last. Her arms trembled with every movement, her knees screamed from the constant pressure against the cold metal, and her entire body ached from the relentless strain of the last few hours.
Her mind, though, was the worst. It was elsewhere, trapped in a downward spiral of grim possibilities. By now, Steve and Robin had definitely been captured. They were likely being interrogated, tortured for information, or worse—they could already be dead.
Her stomach twisted painfully, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to block out the mental images that had taken root in her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Steve's lopsided grin, the way his easy, confident charm had a way of grounding her whenever her thoughts spiraled. And Robin—Dove almost missed her biting sarcasm, that sharp wit that could slice through even the heaviest moments, forcing a reluctant laugh or an eye roll when everything else seemed hopeless. Now, their absence left an emptiness that pressed down on Dove's chest, the silence of it louder than anything Dustin or Erica could say to pull her out of it.
Dustin came to a stop, his breathing heavy as he held up a hand, signaling for them to stay put. With a quick motion, he reached up and pushed the hatch above him, peering out cautiously. After a tense moment, he whispered, "All clear."
One by one, they climbed out, their bodies stiff from crawling through the vents for so long. Dove straightened up, brushing dust off the Russian military uniform that still hung awkwardly on her frame. The faint metallic tang of the air hit her first, sterile and cold. She finally glanced up—and froze.
The room stretched out before her like something out of a dystopian nightmare. Rows upon rows of towering glass cases lined the walls, each one meticulously housing a dozen metal cylinders, identical to the one they had found in the elevator. The dim light reflected off the glass, casting the room in an eerie glow that seemed to pulse faintly, synchronized with the distant hum of machinery.
Behind her, Dustin wandered over to a small red vehicle that was parked at the base of the stairs—the kind they had seen the Russians zipping around in earlier. He slipped into the driver's seat, disappointed when there were no keys in the ignition.
Dove barely registered him. She took a cautious step toward one of the glass storage units, her eyes narrowing as she studied the locking mechanism along its side. Her fingers brushed the cold surface, and she followed the lines of the case until she found a small control panel embedded in the base. With a hesitant tap, the glass hissed softly and slid open.
A green glow spilled out onto her face as she reached inside, her hands closing around one of the metallic containers. Dove turned it over in her hands, her fingers tracing the smooth surface.
"Hey." Dustin's voice cut through the silence, and Dove glanced up sharply, her train of thought momentarily derailed. He was standing a few feet away with a wide grin spread across his face, the kind of grin that usually meant trouble. "You have a plan, don't you?" he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Dove blinked, caught off guard. Her grip on the cylinder tightened as her lips parted, searching for a response. Did she have a plan? She wasn't entirely sure yet. "Maybe," she said finally, her tone guarded but firm.
"Great!" Dustin clapped his hands once, a grin spreading across his face. "What do you need us to do?"
Dove looked back down at the cylinder in her hands, the faint green glow reflecting off her palms. Her gaze darted around the room, scanning for any semblance of a strategy, before landing back on Dustin. "Find the keys to that thing," she said, nodding toward the small vehicle parked across the room.
"On it!" Dustin snapped into action, rushing toward the small metal table on the other side of the vehicle.
Dove strode toward the glass case, grabbing three more glowing cylinders and clutching them tightly. Turning, she started down the few steps leading to the vehicle when her eyes drifted to the right and she froze.
A giant steel cage loomed in the corner, its metallic frame catching the light in a way that made her breath hitch. Her steps faltered as she turned fully toward it, the glowing cylinders in her hands suddenly feeling heavier. The cage was massive, far too large for any normal animal. Reinforced bars stretched almost from the floor to the ceiling, and a thick, industrial-grade lock secured the heavy door.
Dove's stomach twisted as her gaze dropped to the scratch marks on the metal floor of the cage. They were deep and erratic, as if something had clawed or been dragged out of it. She couldn't look away, her mind racing with questions she didn't want the answers to.
The air behind her suddenly snapped with a loud crack of electricity, the noise jolting her from her thoughts. Dove let out a sharp gasp and instinctively flinched. One of the cylinders slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. The sound of fracturing glass echoed in the room as the container rolled to a stop, a spiderweb of cracks forming but miraculously not breaking open.
She spun around, her heart pounding as she locked eyes with Erica, who stood nonchalantly beside Dustin. In Erica's hands was what could only be described as a giant cattle prod, its end still sparking faintly with residual electricity. A small, casual smile tugged at her lips, as if she hadn't just nearly given both Hendersons a heart attack.
"What the hell is that?" Dustin asked, wide-eyed with a set of keys now in his hand.
Erica shrugged, looking entirely too casual as she examined the electrified baton in her hands. "A deadly weapon," she said matter-of-factly, flipping it on and off again with a small crackle of electricity. She spun it around like it was no big deal, the faint hum of the charge filling the air. "Could be useful."
Dustin raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back a little. "For what?"
Erica rolled her eyes, twirling the baton lazily as if it were a toy. "What do you think? Taking down Commies. Saving your friends."
Dustin shook his head, a mix of disbelief and the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I thought you were more realistic than that, nerd. We don't even know where Steve and Robin are. And even if we did, there are a million guards between us and them, with way deadlier weapons than this thing." He gestured toward the baton. "The best thing we can do is get out of here, find help, and come back."
"And that's exactly what you're going to do," Dove said firmly, stepping forward and snatching the baton from Erica's hands in one smooth motion. The sudden move made both Dustin and Erica freeze. Dove spun the baton once before gripping it tightly, her gaze serious. "Go and find Hopper. Get him back here as fast as you can. I'm going to find Steve and Robin."
Dustin's mouth dropped open as he stared at her in disbelief. "Wait, wait, hold on," he said, throwing his hands up. "When I asked if you had a plan, I meant to get us out of here—not to get yourself killed!"
Dove sighed, exasperated, but didn't falter. "I'm not getting myself killed, Dustin. I'm buying us time. They're still alive. I know it." Her voice cracked slightly at the end, but she steeled herself, her expression resolute. "I'm not leaving without them. I won't."
Dustin's face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You're crazy if you think I'm leaving without you."
Her heart clenched at the raw determination in his voice, the way his eyes burned with the same stubbornness she knew all too well. She shook her head, stepping closer and gripping his shoulders. "Dustin," she said, her voice quieter but no less resolute, "one of us needs to go home to Mom tonight. And that's going to be you."
"No," he said through gritted teeth, his voice low but unwavering. "Either we both leave, or neither of us do."
Dove's chest tightened, the weight of his words slamming into her like a freight train. She didn't have time for this, for the ache in her heart as she saw the fear behind his defiance. She placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Listen to me," she said, her voice trembling with urgency. "If you don't leave, this whole thing was for nothing. You need to find Hopper. You have to, Dustin. Please."
Dustin stared at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue again, but then his shoulders sagged. "You're such a hypocrite," he muttered, his voice dripping with malice but laced with the unmistakable sting of defeat.
"Dustin—" Dove started, but he cut her off, his voice cracking with raw emotion.
"If you die, I will never forgive you," he snapped, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Without waiting for her response, he turned sharply and started walking toward the vehicle, his steps quick and angry.
Dove stood frozen for a second, the weight of his words crashing into her. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to steady her voice. "Nobody is dying," she called after him, her tone firm and unwavering.
Dustin didn't stop or turn around, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fists clenched at his sides. Dove exhaled slowly, watching as the vehicle carrying Dustin and Erica disappeared down the corridor. Her chest tightened with the weight of their parting, but she forced herself to push the emotion down. There was no room for hesitation now. She turned her attention to the cracked cylinder on the floor, its fractured surface gleaming ominously under the cold fluorescent lights. She crouched down, carefully picking it up and tucking it into one of the deep, oversized pockets of the uniform. She did the same with the other cylinders, their weight grounding her as she stood.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached up to smooth her hair beneath the military-style cap. The soft green fabric sat snugly on her head, offering little in the way of concealment, but she hoped it would be enough to help her blend in. Gripping the cattle prod tightly in one hand, she stepped forward, her sneakers echoing faintly against the metal floor.
The hallways seemed both endless and oppressive, every turn tightening the knot in her stomach. As she approached the main corridor leading toward the heart of the base, two soldiers appeared from the corner ahead, their conversation a low murmur. Her pulse quickened as they neared, her grip on the cattle prod tightening until her knuckles turned white.
"Comrade," one of them greeted with a brief nod, his tone casual as his eyes barely flicked in her direction.
Dove's heart thundered in her chest, but she forced herself to nod curtly in return, keeping her pace steady and her gaze low. The soldiers walked past her, their voices fading as they moved down the corridor. She resisted the urge to look back immediately, waiting until she rounded the next corner before sneaking a glance over her shoulder.
They were retreating, completely oblivious.
Her shoulders sagged slightly as a sliver of confidence broke through the fear. They hadn't noticed. The uniform, the cap—it was enough.
As Dove turned the corner, her eyes landed on a door slightly ajar, faint light spilling out into the hallway. Her pulse quickened as she approached, carefully pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. Two soldiers stood with their backs to her, engrossed in a conversation she couldn't quite make out.
She scanned the room quickly. No Steve. No Robin. Just shelves of equipment and what appeared to be a workstation covered in scattered documents. Her heart sank as disappointment flickered through her, and she began to ease the door closed again, but a single word made her freeze.
"Americans."
The soldier's voice was low, almost casual, but the word sent a jolt through Dove. She stopped, her hand still on the door, her mind racing. They knew something. They had to. Clenching her jaw, she slipped into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
The soldiers didn't notice. They were too engrossed in their conversation, their body language relaxed. Dove moved silently, gripping the cattle prod tightly, her pulse pounding in her ears. She stepped closer, her breath held, the cold air of the room biting against her skin.
When she was just a step away, she struck.
The cattle prod hissed with electricity as she jammed it into the back of the nearest soldier. The jolt sent him sprawling to the ground with a strangled cry, his body convulsing as the prod's charge surged through him. The sound of his collapse startled the other soldier, who spun around, his hand already reaching for the gun at his hip.
Dove acted on instinct. Dropping the cattle prod, she lunged forward, grabbing the unconscious soldier's gun. She swung around, her heart hammering, and leveled the weapon at the remaining soldier just as his fingers brushed his holster.
"Don't," she hissed, her voice low and trembling but filled with determination.
The soldier froze, his hand hovering inches from his gun. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, there was silence, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Dove's grip on the gun tightened, her knuckles white as she steadied her aim. She tried to slow her breathing, but her chest heaved with adrenaline.
"Hands up," she said sharply, her voice hardening as she stepped closer.
The soldier hesitated, his jaw clenching, but slowly raised his hands, his eyes narrowing in an attempt to size her up. Dove didn't waver, her finger resting just above the trigger.
"Where are the Americans?" she demanded, her voice steady now, though her stomach churned with fear.
The soldier's eyes flicked to the door, then back to Dove, his expression hardening. "No English," he said, his voice thick with an accent. His hands stayed raised, but there was a glint of defiance in his eyes that set Dove's teeth on edge.
"Bullshit," Dove shot back, her voice sharper now. She adjusted her grip on the gun, taking a step closer until the barrel pressed against his chest. "You said Americans. I heard you. Tell me where they are, or I swear to God I will shoot you."
"You're out of your depth, Devotchka." the soldier sneered, his confidence unnerving.
The unconscious soldier on the ground let out a faint groan, stirring slightly, and Dove's focus flicked to him for the briefest moment. The soldier in front of her noticed, his lips curling into a small, mocking smile.
Before Dove could react, the man moved. His hand darted toward her wrist, trying to twist the gun away, but she was faster. She jerked back, her adrenaline spiking as she slammed the butt of the gun into his shoulder, sending him stumbling. The movement gave her just enough space to aim again.
"Down!" she barked, her voice ringing with authority. "On your knees! Now!"
The soldier hesitated, his hands still partially raised, his eyes flicking between her and the gun. But this time, he didn't challenge her. Slowly, he dropped to his knees, glaring at her the entire time.
Dove's aim didn't waver as she reached into the pocket of her uniform, her fingers brushing against the cracked cylinder she'd tucked away earlier. She pulled it out carefully, her movements deliberate. The soldier's expression remained stoic, but she caught the flicker of confusion in his eyes.
Without a word, Dove smashed the cylinder against the edge of the metal table beside her. The green liquid inside hissed and bubbled as it poured out, eating through the table with terrifying speed. The smell was acrid and nauseating, but she ignored it, stepping forward with the jagged remnants of the glass cylinder still in her hand. The liquid clung to the edges, droplets sizzling as they fell to the ground, leaving small, corroded marks in the floor.
The soldier's breathing quickened, and for the first time, the bravado in his eyes wavered. He shifted slightly, as if trying to lean away from her without appearing too obvious.
"You've seen what this does," Dove said, her voice low and steady, the words cutting through the tension like a blade. She took another step toward him, holding the shattered cylinder just inches from his face. "Now, tell me where the Americans are. Or I'll make sure you get a much closer look."
The soldier's jaw tightened, his glare faltering as he glanced at the sizzling table, then back at the jagged edges of the glass. He was trying to hide it, but fear was creeping into his expression now. "I won't ask again." Dove tilted the cylinder just enough to let another drop fall, the liquid sizzling loudly as it hit the floor near his knee.
His resolve cracked. "They are with doctor," he said, his accent thick but his words clear. "End of hall. Blue door."
Dove's stomach twisted at his words, but she didn't let it show. She took another step closer, lowering the jagged glass to hover just above his shoulder. "What are they doing to them?"
The soldier flinched but didn't move otherwise, his expression growing grim. "Interrogation," he said reluctantly, his tone almost apologetic. "They want.. information."
Her heart sank, but she forced herself to stay composed. After a moment, she stepped back, keeping the gun trained on him. "Stay here," she said firmly. "If I see you again.. I will kill you."
The soldier didn't move, his glare piercing but his body frozen. Dove took another step back, her gaze still locked on him as she crouched down and picked up the cattle prod from the floor. She rose slowly and without breaking eye contact, she slipped out into the hallway and quietly shut the door behind her.
The tension left her body in a shaky exhale as she straightened up, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her chest. She adjusted her hat and tucked the gun into her belt, its cold metal digging into her hip.
The cattle prod hummed faintly as she held it tightly in one hand, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor as she continued down the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last, her pulse thrumming in her ears. The dim lights overhead cast long shadows, making the sterile walls of the base feel even more oppressive.
Her eyes locked onto the blue door at the end of the hallway, a cold knot forming in her stomach. She had found it—the place they were keeping Steve and Robin. Dove's gaze dropped to the floor and one by one, she pulled out the remaining cylinders, gripping them tightly. With a sharp breath, she smashed the first one on the ground, the glass shattering and spilling the glowing green liquid. It hissed as it hit the floor, melting through the metal in seconds, releasing a sharp, acrid smell that made her eyes water. She didn't stop. Another cylinder smashed. And another. By the time she was done, a gaping hole filled the middle of the hall, the metal warping and sizzling as the acid did its work.
The sound of an alarm blared through the base, its shrill cry echoing off the walls. Red lights began to flash, bathing the corridor in an ominous glow. Dove moved quickly, ducking into an alcove just as the pounding of boots filled the air. Soldiers stormed down the hall, shouting in Russian, their focus drawn immediately to the bubbling, disintegrating floor.
Dove pressed herself against the cold wall, clutching the cattle prod tightly as her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. The soldiers barked orders at one another, some stopping to examine the damage while others rushed past, likely trying to find the source of the chaos. None of them noticed her in the shadows.
She waited, counting the seconds in her head until the last soldier moved out of view. Then, she slipped out of the alcove, her footsteps quiet and deliberate as she moved toward the blue door. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but her movements were steady, determined.
The door was already ajar, and through the crack, she saw a man in a heavy rubber apron standing over a table covered in medical instruments. His back was turned, completely unaware of the storm about to hit him.
Without hesitation, Dove kicked the door open, her shoe slamming into the metal with a loud bang. The man in the apron spun around, his eyes wide with surprise, but Dove was already in motion. She lunged forward, the baton sparking violently as she jabbed it into his chest.
Electricity crackled through the air, and the man let out a strangled cry, his body convulsing as the shock hit him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, crashing into the tray of medical instruments and sending them clattering to the ground. The sound still echoed through the room as his body twitched one last time before going still.
Dove's throat tightened as she looked at Steve and Robin, tied back-to-back on metal chairs. Thick straps secured them in place, and Steve's face was a mess—his eye swollen shut, dried blood smeared across his cheek and jaw. But he was alive. That single fact sent a wave of relief through her, but there was no time to dwell on it. She dropped to her knees beside him, hands trembling as she started working on the straps.
"Hey! Henderson!" Steve rasped, his voice hoarse but oddly cheerful. "This is nuts—I was just talking about you."
Dove paused, blinking at him in confusion. "What?"
"Yeah," Steve continued, a wide grin spreading across his face as he squinted at her. "I was telling that nice Russian dude all about you. And now look—you're here."
Robin let out a breathy giggle, her head lolling to the side.
Dove shot a glance over at Robin, trying to make sense of the situation. "What the hell happened?"
"I dunno," Robin said, shrugging as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "We were just chilling."
Dove worked faster, undoing the straps on Steve's arms. He let out a long groan of relief as they fell free. "Oh, man, you're like.. really good at this. You ever untie people before? You've got, like, quick hands."
The door slammed open with a deafening bang, and Dove spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. A young Russian soldier stood there, his gun trembling in his hands. His face was pale, his wide eyes darting between her, Steve, and Robin. He barked something in Russian, his voice sharp and frantic. Dove didn't understand the words, but the meaning was painfully clear.
Her hands slowly rose, her fingers splayed as she stepped slightly back from the chair. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything she could use. The cattle prod was on the floor, just a few feet away, but it might as well have been miles. The soldier's gaze flicked toward it and his grip on the gun tightened as he barked out another command.
Steve shifted slightly in the chair, his bruised face twisting into a faint smirk. "Hey, buddy," he slurred, his voice dripping with lazy confidence. "You really picked the wrong girl. She's gonna kick your ass—and look good doing it."
"Steve, shut up," Dove hissed, her eyes locked on the soldier. Her mind raced, weighing her options. The gun in her waistband was too far out of reach to grab without getting shot. Her muscles tensed as she subtly shifted her weight, inching closer to the cattle prod.
The soldier barked another order, his voice cracking. He couldn't have been much older than her—maybe early twenties. The way his hands shook told her he was either new or terrified. Maybe both.
Robin let out a groggy laugh from the chair. "Dude, you're shaking like.. like a human maraca. Are you a maraca? 'Cause I love maracas."
"Robin!" Dove snapped, her voice low and sharp. She could feel the tension mounting, the room teetering on a knife's edge. The soldier flinched slightly at the sound, his finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger.
Dove's pulse pounded in her ears as she shifted again, her foot brushing against the edge of the cattle prod. She forced her voice to stay calm, her tone steady. "Listen," she said slowly, her words measured. "You don't want to do this. Just.. put the gun down. We'll leave, no one gets hurt."
The soldier's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought he might actually lower the weapon. The tension was shattered by a loud crackle of electricity. The soldier's body jerked violently, his knees buckling before he collapsed to the ground in a heap. Dove's breath caught in her throat, her eyes darting to the doorway.
Dustin stood there, a smug grin plastered across his face, holding a sparking cattle prod. Erica stepped in behind him, her hands on her hips and her expression as confident as ever.
"Dustin?" Dove breathed, blinking in disbelief.
"You didn't think I was actually gonna leave you here, did you?" Dustin replied, his tone casual as if this were a perfectly normal Thursday evening.
Dove stared at him for a moment, her chest still heaving from the adrenaline. "What part of go find Hopper didn't you understand?" she asked, her voice sharp but wavering with a mix of amusement and relief.
Dustin shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. "You should know by now that I'm not great at following orders. Plus," he added, gesturing at the unconscious soldier, "clearly, you needed some backup."
Dove stared at Dustin for a moment, debating whether to argue, but the urgency of the situation won out. She let out a sharp breath and shook her head. "Just help me get them out of here."
Dustin gave a mock salute, clearly pleased with himself, before him and Erica rushed to untie Robin.
Dove crouched down in front of Steve, undoing the straps around his ankles with quick, precise movements. "All right, Harrington, up you go," she said, gripping his arm and helping him to his feet.
Steve wobbled immediately, his knees buckling like a newborn deer learning to walk. He swayed heavily against Dove, his weight nearly dragging her down. Dove draped his arm around her shoulders, struggling to keep him upright. His head lolled toward her, and he gave her a lazy smile. "You smell like.. flowers. Do you wear flower perfume? It's nice."
Dove froze, her brow furrowing. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked, her grip tightening on his arm to steady him. She glanced over at Robin, who was now draped over Dustin like a human scarf, giggling at absolutely nothing.
"Mmmm.. I feel great," Robin said, bumping into Erica as she swayed. "I'm ready to run.. or maybe just lie down for a bit? You ever just wanna lie on the floor and look at the ceiling?"
Erica rolled her eyes but moved to Robin's other side, propping her up as best she could. "You two are a lot of work, you know that?" she muttered, though her tone lacked its usual bite.
Steve let out a breathy laugh as Dove half-dragged, half-carried him toward the door. "You're my hero, Dove," he said, his voice dreamy. "You're like.. the greatest person I've ever met.. Like, ever.."
Ignoring him, Dove guided Steve toward the small red cart just outside the room. "Get in," she said, trying to push Steve into the back of the cart. He stumbled in with a goofy grin.
Robin giggled from behind them, leaning on Erica and Dustin as they made their way over. "Road trip!"
Dove's heart pounded as she helped Robin into the cart beside Steve. The two of them immediately slouched against each other, Robin letting out a contented sigh as if this was the most comfortable place in the world.
Dustin slipped into the driver's seat with a frown as Erica slid in beside him, gripping the dashboard like she was bracing for disaster. The two exchanged a brief glance, the tension palpable as Dustin turned the key, the cart rumbling softly to life.
Dove climbed into the back, casting one last glance at Steve and Robin, who were now mumbling incoherent nonsense to each other. They looked utterly useless in their current state, their words a jumble of confusion. Steve was halfway through a sentence about pancakes and Robin was laughing so hard she could barely sit up.
Dove turned her attention to Dustin, her voice firm. "Let's go."
Dustin didn't need any more encouragement. He floored it, causing the cart to lurch forward with a jarring jolt. Dove braced herself against the metal railing in the back, gripping it tightly as they zoomed down the corridor. The cart swayed dangerously as it picked up speed, the sound of the small electric motor whining in protest.
Steve, who had been humming tunelessly, suddenly bolted upright. "Slow down!" he yelled, his voice cracking as he clutched the sides of the cart like they were in some high-speed chase.
Robin, equally disoriented, gave him a sloppy side-eye. "Yeah, what is this, like, the Indy 500?" she slurred, throwing her hands in the air like she was on a roller coaster.
Steve blinked, his face serious for all of two seconds. "It's the Indy 300," he corrected.
Robin rolled her eyes dramatically. "No, dingus, it's 500!" she shouted back.
"It's 300!" Steve insisted, his voice rising as if it were a matter of life and death.
"Let's say.. a million," Robin said with a giggle, laughing at her own joke as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Steve's laughter followed, both of them leaning against each other in a fit of giggles.
Dove sighed, rubbing her forehead. "How much longer?" she shouted toward Dustin, who was too focused on steering to notice the chaos behind him.
Dustin turned briefly to answer her. "Almost there—"
His words were cut off when the cart collided head-on with a stack of metal barrels, sending them flying in all directions. Dove felt herself lurch forward uncontrollably, sprawling right into Steve's lap with a thud.
"Well, hello there," Steve said, raising an eyebrow at her with his lopsided grin.
Dustin whipped around, panic etched across his face. "Are you guys okay back there?"
Dove scrambled to sit up. "Fine," she muttered, quickly climbing out of the cart. She surveyed the hallway ahead—there was no way they could take the vehicle any further. "We'll have to run from here." She turned back to Steve and Robin, who hadn't moved an inch since the crash. "Let's go!"
Robin and Steve fumbled over each other, laughing as they tried to get out of the cart, their limbs tangled and coordination completely shot. They tumbled to the floor in a heap, both of them still giggling uncontrollably as they staggered to their feet.
They reached the elevator, and Dustin scanned the keycard, the doors sliding open with a soft ding. Somewhere along the way, Steve and Robin had found a flat red cart—probably used for moving equipment. Robin was pushing it toward the elevator, Steve standing on top of it like a surfboard. They careened inside, Robin barely able to stop in time as Steve struck a ridiculous pose, arms outstretched for balance.
Dove groaned as she stepped into the elevator, slamming the 'door close' button with more force than necessary. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, peeling off the oversized Russian uniform. Relief washed over her as she settled back into her own clothes, shoving the uniform into the corner of the elevator and tucking the gun into her waistband, covering it with her shirt.
Behind her, chaos erupted. Robin grabbed the edge of the cart with a mischievous grin and yanked it hard, sending Steve toppling to the floor with a loud thud. He landed flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
"Wipeout!" Robin crowed triumphantly, throwing her arms into the air like she'd just won a gold medal. She slid onto the edge of the cart, twirling a strand of her hair with exaggerated nonchalance.
Dustin knelt next to Steve and placed a hand on his forehead, his expression shifting from exasperation to concern. "He's burning up," Dustin said, glancing toward Dove, worry etched across his face.
"You're burning up," Steve shot back, still giggling as he tried—and failed—to push Dustin away. His coordination was completely off, his hand flopping weakly against Dustin's chest.
Dustin pried open one of Steve's eyelids. "His eyes are super dilated," he said, his frown deepening. "What the hell did they do to them?"
Dove let out an exasperated sigh. "They're high," she stated flatly, the realization sinking in. "Of course."
Dustin tapped the side of Steve's face gently, trying to get him to focus. "Steve, are you drugged?" he asked, his tone serious.
Steve scoffed, his tone turning mock-offended. "How many times do I have to tell you, Dad? I don't do drugs. It's just marijuana." He punctuated his point by tapping Dustin's nose with his finger, a cheeky grin on his face.
Dustin groaned. "This isn't funny, Steve. I need to know what they did to you. Are you gonna die on us?"
Steve's grin stretched wider as he reached out and tapped Dustin's nose again. "Boop."
Robin, perched on the cart, turned her gaze toward them, her expression unexpectedly serious despite the far-off look in her eyes. "We all die, my strange little child friend," she said, twirling a strand of hair. "It's just a matter of how.. and when."
"Great, that's comforting," Dustin muttered under his breath before looking at Dove. "What do we do?"
Dove sighed and knelt beside Steve, gripping his chin gently but firmly to turn his face toward hers. "Steve, look at me. Did you tell the Russians anything? Are they going to be waiting for us when we get up there?"
Steve blinked slowly, his unfocused gaze lingering on her. His lopsided grin softened into something almost charming. "I could look at you all day," he murmured with a dreamy tone.
Dove's jaw tightened, her voice flat and unimpressed. "Focus, Steve."
Steve squinted, his head lolling slightly as he struggled to concentrate. "I told 'em you and Hopper knew about their secret hideout. And that you were gonna come and, like, shoot 'em all in the face. Which, by the way, is badass."
Dove froze, her stomach sinking like a stone. "You told them that?" she asked, her voice low and tense.
Steve grinned lazily, completely oblivious to the weight of his confession. "Yup." His eyes lit up suddenly, like he'd just remembered something important. "Can we stop at the food court after this? 'Cause I could really go for a hot dog on a stick."
Robin, draped across the cart like it was a lounge chair, perked up immediately. "Yes! Hot dog on a stick! I'll take two."
Dove buried her face in her hands for a moment, letting out a long sigh. "Great," she muttered. "That's just great."
The elevator jolted to a halt, the doors sliding open with a muted chime. Dove's chest tightened as they stepped into the dimly lit loading dock, the cool evening air brushing against her face like a lifeline after the suffocating underground complex. She inhaled deeply, but the knot in her stomach refused to loosen. They weren't out of danger yet.
"Oh my God," Robin exclaimed, her arms flinging out dramatically. "You guys taste that?" She tilted her head back, sticking out her tongue. "I can taste it!"
Dove shot her a sharp look, her nerves fraying. "Focus, Robin," she snapped, ushering the group toward the exit that led to the parking lot. Steve stumbled beside her, still grinning like he was in on some cosmic joke. Keeping them moving was like trying to steer a ship through a storm.
But then Dustin froze mid-step, his breath hitching. "Uh, Dove.." he whispered, his voice tinged with panic.
Her head whipped around, following his gaze. A wave of dread crashed over her as she saw them—half a dozen armed guards pouring through the gate ahead, their rifles gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. They moved with purpose, spreading out, their sharp commands in Russian cutting through the stillness.
One of them spotted the group, shouting and pointing their way.
Dove's heart leapt into her throat as the guard surged forward, barking orders to the others. "Shit," she hissed through gritted teeth. Her voice cut through the chaos as she yelled, "Run!"