The moment El hit the ground, chaos erupted. Her body convulsed violently as she let out a bloodcurdling scream, a sound so raw and piercing it cut through the air like a knife. She was sobbing, wailing in pain, her hands clawing at her head as if trying to block something out. Her face twisted in agony as her entire body writhed.
"We need to get her to the hospital!" Danny said, panic rising in his voice as his eyes darted between El and the others.
Max's hand shot out, grabbing Danny's arm. "Trust me," she said firmly, her voice laced with desperation. "You do not want to go to the hospital right now."
El's screams grew louder, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her temples, both nostrils dripping blood.
"What is that?" Erica asked, her voice tight, her face paling as she backed away.
Dove's eyes darted down, and her stomach turned when she saw it—something moving beneath the skin of El's leg. It slithered and squirmed, shifting grotesquely under her flesh like a snake trapped just below the first layer of skin, squelching as it wriggled deeper into her muscle.
"There's something in there," Mike said, his voice shaking with fear.
Dove's heart pounded in her chest. "We need to cut it out," she said, her voice stronger than she felt. "Someone find me a knife."
Everyone turned to look at her, wide-eyed and horrified. Danny blinked at her, confused. "Are you crazy? She needs a doctor—"
"Get me a knife!" Dove snapped, her voice sharp. "Now!"
Without hesitation, Jonathan turned on his heel and sprinted off toward one of the nearby food court stands. The air was filled with tension, thick with the sound of El's agonized sobs. Everyone looked at Dove, waiting for some kind of miracle, their expressions filled with disbelief. She could feel their eyes on her, judging, questioning whether this was the right call, but there was no other choice. The thing inside El had to be stopped before it got worse.
El screamed again, the sound more desperate and heart-wrenching than before. Tears streamed down her face, and her entire body shook violently as the thing inside her leg continued to move, pressing against her skin, trying to force its way out.
Dove swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. "Prop her up against the wall!" she ordered, her eyes locking on Mike. "You need to hold her still."
"Dove—" Steve started, his face pale, looking at her like she had completely lost it.
"Just do it!" Dove yelled, her heart racing.
With a shared look of hesitation, they moved, helping to prop El up. Mike knelt beside her, holding her shoulders gently as he whispered soft reassurances that were lost beneath her screams. Will stood on her other side, his hands shaking as he helped hold her in place, fear etched on his face.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before Jonathon returned, his breath ragged. In his hand was a kitchen knife, the blade blackened at the tip where he had heated it over one of the stoves to sterilize it. Clutched in his other hand was a pair of food preparation gloves and a wooden spoon. He handed the items over to Dove, his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty, but there was no hesitation in his movements. The smell of burned metal from the knife filled the air, mingling with the tension that thickened the atmosphere.
Dove glanced at the gloves, understanding immediately and sliding them on as fast as she could. Her fingers trembled for a moment, but as the gloves snapped into place, her resolve hardened.
"El, you're gonna want to bite down on this." Jonathon said, handing the spoon to Mike. "It'll help with the pain."
Mike nodded, his face pale and drawn as he took the spoon and gently lifted El's chin. El, though delirious with pain, opened her mouth slightly, her body shaking uncontrollably as Mike placed the spoon between her teeth.
"Hold still," Dove muttered under her breath, kneeling in front of El's leg. She pressed the blackened blade to the area where the movement was the strongest, where the skin bulged grotesquely, and took a deep breath.
Mike tightened his grip on El's shoulders, his face pale but determined. "We've got you, El," he whispered shakily, his voice cracking. "We've got you."
With one last steadying breath, Dove tightened her grip on the blackened knife, her fingers trembling ever so slightly despite her best efforts to stay calm. The blade hovered over the swollen, bulging spot on El's lower leg, the skin stretched tight and glistening with sweat.
She pressed the edge of the knife to the skin, the initial resistance making her stomach churn. Slowly, she applied more pressure, and the blade began to slice through the taut flesh. The sensation was unsettling—a mix of soft give and firm tension, like slicing through a thick, overripe fruit.
Blood welled up immediately, warm and sticky, coating the knife and pooling around the incision. El let out a muffled scream around the spoon, her teeth clamping down hard as the pain overwhelmed her, tears streaming down her face. Dove's stomach twisted, but she kept her hands steady, her focus narrowing to the task at hand. She had to stay calm. She had to be precise.
"It's okay," Mike whispered frantically, though his own voice wavered. "We're here, El. We're here."
Dove gritted her teeth, her breath shallow and uneven as she pushed her gloved fingers into the incision. The warmth of El's blood seeped through the thin material of the gloves, sticky and slick, clinging to her skin beneath. Her fingers pressed into the soft, resistant tissue, the sensation strange and unsettling—warm, wet, and yielding, but with the occasional taut muscle tensing under her touch.
The moment her fingertips grazed the thing inside, it recoiled violently, thrashing beneath the surface. The movement was sharp and frantic, almost sentient, and it sent a shiver up Dove's spine. It was like trying to catch a slippery, wriggling fish in a dark pond—its slick, slimy texture squirmed just beyond her grasp, slipping deeper into the muscle.
Her stomach churned as the creature shifted, the grotesque sound of it slithering through the flesh making her gag. The unnatural squelch seemed to echo in her ears, but she swallowed hard, forcing the nausea back down. Her hands worked with fevered urgency, pushing deeper into the wound despite the growing resistance of El's body.
"Just a little more, El," Dove muttered, her voice tight with concentration. Sweat dripped down her forehead, stinging her eyes, but she didn't dare blink. Her fingers probed further, brushing against the slick, writhing mass again. The sensation was horrifying—it wasn't smooth, but ridged and unnatural, pulsing as it writhed against her touch.
Each time she thought she had it, the thing jerked away, slipping through her fingers with maddening ease. The frustration built in her chest, a tight knot of desperation and anger. "God dammit!" she shouted, her voice cracking under the strain.
Determined, Dove shoved her fingers deeper, the warm blood pooling around her gloves, spilling over the edges of the wound. She felt the muscle flex and contract beneath her touch, a disturbing mix of resistance and fragility as she pressed on.
El screamed in agony, her body jerking violently. "No! Stop it!" she wailed, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. "Stop!" The sound of her raw, pained screams sent chills through everyone in the room.
Jonathan, pale and shaken, placed a hand on Dove's shoulder, pulling her back from the task.
Dove froze for a moment, her fingers still deep in the wound, before slowly pulling them out. She sat back on her heels, panting heavily, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her hands shook from the tension, her gloves slick with blood. Her heart was pounding, and for a moment, she wasn't sure what to do next.
El, her face soaked with tears and blood dripping from her nose, tried to sit up. Her voice was a whisper, weak but filled with determination. "I.. I can do it," she said, her eyes meeting Dove's. "I can do it."
Dove hesitated, staring at El's trembling form. For a moment, everything felt impossibly heavy—the blood, the pain, the fear in the room. But she nodded, backing away to give El space. "Alright," Dove said softly, her voice thick with emotion.
El, still shaking with exhaustion and pain, extended her hand toward her leg. Her face contorted with concentration, and the creature inside her began thrashing again, more violently than before.
The lights flickered overhead, and the air in the room seemed to crackle with energy. El let out a sharp cry, her hand trembling as she focused all her energy on the thing inside her leg. It writhed crazily under the skin, like it was being forced upward, pushing against the flesh as if trying to claw its way out.
El screamed, her voice growing louder, more desperate. The windows rattled, and with a deafening crack, the glass behind them shattered, sending shards spraying across the room. The lights above flickered rapidly, plunging the courtyard into moments of darkness before strobing back to life.
Dove scrambled back, her heart racing as she watched El, her screams reverberating through the walls. El's body trembled violently, her face twisted in agony, but she didn't stop. Her hand hovered over her leg, guiding the creature as it vibrated under her skin, making its slow, torturous way to the surface.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the creature breached the wound, it's slick, glistening form writhing as it was pulled free. It floated in the air for a moment, suspended just above El's leg, twisting and squelching grotesquely.
With a final scream, El flung the creature across the room. It hit the floor with a sickening thud, chittering weakly as it squirmed, its body jerking and twitching. Blood oozed from its slick form and it writhed like a dying insect, trying to crawl away, its movements slow and jerky.
The room fell into an eerie silence, only the sound of El's ragged breathing filling the space. Dove stared at the creature, her chest heaving as she tried to process what had just happened. The weight of everything hit her all at once—the blood, the screams, the feeling of that grotesque thing writhing beneath El's skin—and suddenly, the nausea came crashing over her like a tidal wave.
Her stomach churned violently, and before she could stop herself, Dove stumbled toward the nearest trash can. She barely made it before emptying the contents of her stomach, her body convulsing with each retch. The taste of bile burned in her throat as she leaned over, trying to catch her breath.
"Hey, you okay?" Danny asked suddenly beside her, his voice low but urgent.
"Take it easy," Steve added from her left.
Dove, still hunched over, waved them off with a trembling hand, barely managing to speak between gasps. "I'm fine," she muttered, her voice hoarse. She ripped off the bloody gloves and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavily. Her stomach still churned, but she straightened herself, pushing both of them away gently. "I'm fine," she repeated, more forcefully this time. Her face was pale, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, but her resolve was clear.
When she looked up, her vision still slightly hazy from the sickness, she saw that Hopper, Joyce, and a man she didn't recognize had arrived. Hopper's rugged form towered over the others, his eyes wide with worry as he looked down at the creature and smashed it under his boot.
El, still trembling from the ordeal, slowly stood up, her body shaky and weak. Hopper didn't waste a second, rushing over to her and pulling her into a tight, protective hug. El collapsed against him, her face buried in his chest as he murmured something soft into her hair, his grip firm and fatherly.
Joyce, meanwhile, had immediately made her way to Will and Jonathan, her hands flying to their faces as she checked them over with frantic, motherly concern. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion as she inspected them both. Jonathan nodded silently, while Will hugged her tightly, relief flooding through them as they reunited.
Hopper, still holding El close, turned toward the rest of the group, his face hardening into a stern, protective mask. His eyes swept the room, taking in the unconscious soldiers, the shattered windows, and the bloody mess of the crushed creature on the floor. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his voice rough, sharp with anger and fear.
No one dared speak at first, the weight of the question hanging in the air as they all processed the horror they had just witnessed.
Then, everyone began talking at once. Voices overlapped, the frantic explanations jumbled together in a chaotic mess. Mike's voice rose above the others as he tried to explain about the Mind Flayer, while Nancy and Jonathan added their part about an old schizophrenic lady. Lucas chimed in, his voice high with urgency, as Steve and Dustin tried to make sense of what had happened with the Russians. It was a cacophony of words—panic, fear, and confusion spilling out in a rush.
Hopper, still holding El protectively, guided her gently over to the bench near the fountain in the center of mall's courtyard. He sat her down carefully, keeping a hand on her shoulder as she leaned against him, her breathing still shaky.
With the others still talking over one another, Hopper's patience wore thin. His brows furrowed as he raised a hand, silencing the group with a commanding gesture. "Enough!" His voice boomed through the chaos, and instantly, the jumbled explanations ceased. Everyone looked at him, wide-eyed, as the air became still once more. Hopper's gaze was hard as he glanced from face to face. "One at a time," he demanded, his voice sharp but controlled. "Start from the beginning, and make it make sense."
Silence settled over the group for a brief moment, the weight of Hopper's presence pressing down on them like a heavy blanket. His sharp, commanding glare cut through the tension, and it was clear that no one wanted to be the first to speak. All eyes shifted nervously, darting between each other, waiting for someone to take the lead. The atmosphere was thick with tension, their breaths held in the stillness of the moment.
Mike, finally finding his voice, stepped forward slightly. His face was pale, but his words were urgent. "The Mind Flayer," he began, his voice low but steady, "it built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, to kill her and pave a way into our world."
Nancy, standing beside Jonathan, nodded in agreement, her face drawn with tension. "And it almost did. That thing in El's leg—that was just one tiny piece of it."
Hopper's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he processed what they were saying. "How big is this thing?" he asked, his voice rough and controlled, but the underlying fear was unmistakable.
Jonathan, still visibly shaken, answered quickly, "It's big. Thirty feet, at least." He exchanged a glance with Nancy, the memory of what they had seen etched in his expression.
"Yeah." Lucas chimed in, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "It sorta destroyed your cabin." Hopper's jaw clenched even tighter, and Lucas quickly added, "Sorry."
Steve, standing a few steps away, looked lost for words. He paused, searching for a way to make sense of what he was hearing. "Okay, so, just to be clear, this.." He gestured vaguely, his hands moving as he tried to articulate his thoughts. "This big fleshy spider thing that hurt El, it's some kind of gigantic.. weapon?"
"Yes," Nancy said, her voice firm and unwavering. Her eyes flicked to Hopper, her determination evident.
Steve, still wrapping his mind around the grotesque idea, pressed on. "But instead of, like, screws and metal," he continued, waving his hands as if to show the absurdity of it, "the Mind Flayer made its weapon.. with melted people."
"Yes, exactly," Nancy confirmed, her tone grim as she nodded.
Steve let out a breath, shrugging slightly as he processed the horror of it. "Yeah, okay," he said, acting nonchalant. "Yeah, I'm just making sure."
Joyce finally spoke up, her voice tight with worry. "Are we sure this thing is still out there, still alive?" she asked, her eyes wide with fear as she looked between them all.
Max, standing beside Dove, crossed her arms and spoke up without hesitation. "El beat the shit out of it," she said, her voice tinged with pride but darkening as she added, "But, yeah, it's still alive."
The group fell silent for a second, the weight of the truth sinking in. Will spoke up next, his voice filled with quiet determination. "But if we close the gate again—"
Dove finished Will's thought. "We cut the brain off from the body," she said, her voice low but resolute.
"And kill it," Max added.
"Theoretically," Lucas chimed in, his tone cautious.
Hopper listened in silence, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of everything. He looked down at El, who was still resting against him, pale and exhausted but alive.
"Yoo-hoo!" came a loud, almost gleeful call from behind them. Everyone turned to see the strange man waving a stack of papers in his hand, his eyes alight with purpose. Walking beside him was Danny, still carrying the rifle over his shoulder, looking far less enthusiastic but focused. The man marched up to a nearby table and slammed the papers down with a dramatic flair, drawing everyone closer. The group gathered around the table, the air buzzing with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Dove's eyes widened as she recognized some of the papers immediately. They were the schematics from Danny's trunk—the same ones he had shown her earlier—along with what looked to be a hand drawn map.
The man straightened up and leaned over the map. "Okay, this," he said, tapping the paper with exaggerated importance, "is what Alexei called 'the hub'." His finger circled a large space on the schematic, his tone radiating confidence. "The hub takes us to the vault room," he continued, tracing the path with his finger like a professor guiding students through a complex problem.
"Okay," Hopper interrupted, his voice gravelly with impatience. "Where's the gate?"
The man pointed to another section of the map. "Right here," he said, tapping the area confidently. "I don't know the exact scale on this, but I think it's fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet or so."
Erica, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, scoffed. "More like five hundred," she said, her voice dripping with sass. She tilted her head toward the map, unimpressed. "What, you're just gonna waltz in there like it's commie Disneyland or something?"
The man glanced up at her, clearly surprised and a little irritated. "I'm sorry, who are you?" he asked.
"Erica Sinclair." she answered, arching an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "Who are you?"
"Murray," he replied, hesitating before finishing, "Bauman."
Erica raised a hand, stopping him before he could continue. "Listen, Mr. Bunman," she emphasized the name with a mocking tone, "I'm not trying to tell you how to do things, but I've been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, if you do what this man tells you," she gestured around at the rest of the group, "you're all gonna die."
Dove couldn't help but smirk at Erica's boldness, while Hopper furrowed his brows, his frustration mounting. Murray, however, was not amused. "I'm sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?" he asked, his irritation clear.
Erica's eyes blazed with indignation. "Um, I'm ten, you bald bastard!"
"Erica!" Lucas exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock.
"What?" she shot back, her tone sharp. "Just the facts!"
Dustin, who had been observing the exchange with a knowing nod, added, "She's right. You're all gonna die," he said it matter-of-factly, drawing looks from around the table. "But you don't have to." He nudged past Erica and approached the table with newfound energy. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked politely to Murray, whose eyes rolled in exasperation.
"Please," Murray said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he waved Dustin toward the map.
Dustin and Erica sat down at the table, both of them suddenly serious. Dustin grabbed a pencil, sliding the map closer to him. "Okay, see this room here?" he said, pointing to a room and circling it. "This is a storage facility." His eyes flicked up to meet Hopper's as he drew a line from the storage room to the area with the giant machine. "There's a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system," he continued, his voice steady with confidence. "That will lead you to the base of the weapon. It's a bit of a maze down there, but between me and Erica, we can show you the way."
Hopper, his face a mix of skepticism and frustration, leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing at Dustin. "You can show us the way?" he asked, his voice dripping with doubt, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Absolutely not," Dove cut in, her voice firm. Dustin turned to look at her as she continued. "You are not going back down there."
Dustin waved her off casually, like it was nothing to be concerned about. "Don't worry," he said, "Hopper will do all the fighting and the dangerous hero shit. We'll just be the.. navigators."
Dove's mouth fell open slightly, her disbelief clear as she looked from Dustin to Hopper, waiting for the chief to back her up. Her heart raced as she silently urged him to put a stop to this madness.
Hopper, much to her relief, shook his head, his expression hard. "No," he said, the word firm and final. He kept shaking his head as he repeated, "Nope."
Dustin's face fell instantly, his confident smile dropping like a stone. He looked at Hopper, then at Dove, realizing there would be no convincing them this time. "I was just trying to help," he said finally, his voice smaller than usual, tinged with frustration and disappointment.
Dove placed a gentle hand on her brother's shoulder, her expression softening as she tried to comfort him. "I know, Dustin," she said quietly. "And I'm sure Hopper is grateful for that. But—"
She paused mid-sentence, her eyes widening slightly as an idea began to take shape. Her hand tightened on Dustin's shoulder, and a small smile started to creep across her face.
Dustin noticed instantly, his brows lifting as he perked up. "Wait.. You have a plan, don't you?" he asked, his voice hopeful, his earlier disappointment beginning to melt away.
Dove's smile grew, and she nodded slowly. "Maybe," she said, her tone teasing. "It depends—how positive are you that Cerebro can reach the North Pole?"
Dustin's eyes lit up as realization dawned on him, a grin spreading wide across his face. "Cerebro!" he exclaimed, practically bouncing on his heels.
Hopper looked between them, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Cerebro?" he repeated, clearly lost.
Dustin turned to him, his excitement bubbling over. "It's my super-powered radio tower! I built it myself. It's got long-range capabilities—it can pick up signals from miles away! It's.. it's genius!" His grin widened as he turned back to Dove, his eyes practically sparkling. "You're a genius!"
Hopper crossed his arms, his brows furrowing as he glanced between Dustin and Dove. His hesitation was evident, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to buy himself time to process the sudden burst of energy from the younger pair.
Finally, he fixed his gaze on Dove. "Alright," he said gruffly, his voice tinged with skepticism. "What exactly is your plan here?"
Dove didn't hesitate. She reached into Dustin's bag, rummaging around until she pulled out his walkie and the keycard they'd swiped from the soldier earlier. Holding them up, she stepped toward Hopper, her expression steady and confident.
"Dustin and Erica can guide you while you're down there," she said. "They'll be safe and sound up on Weathertop, making sure you don't get yourselves killed." She held out the keycard. "This will get you onto the elevator."
Hopper just stared at her, his expression unreadable as he weighed her words. Dove could see the gears turning in his head, the doubt lingering in his furrowed brows. She raised her eyebrows, refusing to back down, and shoved the items toward him again.
"Well?" she asked, her tone pointed. "You got a better idea?"
Finally, with a heavy sigh, Hopper took the keycard and walkie from her. "This better work," he muttered, tucking the keycard into his pocket. He turned sharply to face the group, beginning to bark out orders.
"Dove," Hopper said, his tone less gruff as he turned back to her. "You're with me. You're gonna walk me through this one more time before we go down there."