Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The little white spots flicked slowly in the windless air.  They were comforting. The almost-spores and the cold temperature both.  But if he continued on out here, his body would die; no matter how warming the familiarity felt.  

It was a dead end then.

The gun hung down pointed at the ground.  It was hard to pull back that passionate adrenaline now- now that he had burst through the doors to freedom and found only this wasteland.

A wasteland comforting in its familiarity but useless all the same.  Billy would freeze out here in the snow...or he wouldn't but even if his body adjusted into black protection the others would freeze, and they would have only broke free of the prison to die.  Miles stretched on and on into nothingness- and his home, that loathed place, lay beyond a sea. They had broken from their cells and killed their way to the front door only to discover there was no escape through it.

So now what?

"There's only one thing we can do," he told them.  The other Americans and miscellaneous prisoners had retreated back into the facility to escape the soothing cold.  The light was low and barely showed them huddled around in a semi circle. The large multi storey facility still echoed with the sounds of screams and the shrieks of the 'attack dog' as Billy's human words had dubbed it.  The lights had flashed incessantly when the group had originally stormed past but now were as subdued as every prisoner.

"The Russian's have another-" gate they called it? "-gate.  Downstairs. Near where they kept the cage." He looked every member of his survival troupe in the eye as Billy spoke.  "We could try escaping through there."

Billy wasn't entirely sure what a gate was; but his mind helpfully provided him the image of a large, living crack in a concrete wall, of a laser pouring energy into it and allowing a tear to break past- something, it had something to do with why he was here, in Russia, instead of in a random shithole in Indiana.  Well, if it was why he was here (he still was low on details for that question) it may be a way to get back ho-not home. Hawkins wasn't home. California was.  But at least back to the United States. Maybe? Worth a shot.

"Escaping right into the hands of far more dangerous enemies," the police man from that damned town spoke up.  Jim Hopper. Billy had noticed Hopper earlier in the escape. Saw what had seemed to be a narrowed gaze, a working mind- suspicion.  But he had no time to be concerned over someones suspicion. There was a monster on the loose and Russians with guns still ready to take down the little band of prisoners.

"What other options do we have?" Billy shot back.  He waved his arms outward and they obeyed the movement heedless of the weight of the gun he held.  It should have been far heavier.  Instead it didn't register as a challenge in any way anymore.  "Getting eaten. Getting shot. Or getting locked up again."

They were not options he would consider taking without a fight.  Being torn up by the attack dog or shot down was far preferable to being trapped again but he would rather not die by those means.

He'd take what was behind that gate over those options any day.  He'd take the people with him to what was behind that gate.

He ran out of ammunition too soon.  There were Russians in every direction and guns were firing to and fro.  A few of the prisoners had already fallen writhing to the ground but many of the Russians had as well.  Blood was coating the floor under the fallen and Billy knew there was a limited amount of time before that blood drew something else's attention.  Right then, when time was such a pressing matter, his gun had stopped firing.

It was tossed aside into a smaller Russian with such force it knocked the soldier down.  He barely saw it as he grabbed at the nearest enemy human and shoved him into a wall. Punched and kicked until the body stopped fighting back.  Above, the ceiling lights had begun to blink- the psychedelic flashing made it hard for him to see the black that had crawled over the veins popping on his fist, fed the strength he used to smash his opponent.  In the moment there was no time to question it, no time to wonder, no time to fear; Billy jumped into action towards the next closest Russian and threw him at the wall as well. When the fight was over and all enemies lay dead then he could grab another gun.  For now, he ripped through the ranks as best he could without walking straight into his allies line of fire.  Just a few more rooms.  And then they would be at the gateway.

The creature crashed down to the floor from the ceiling.  Its maw opened softly at the smells in the room. Fresh bloods.  Human. A Tainted. The link, commander, mouthpiece. The pink slime on the ceiling dripped once successfully before the concrete had crawled over it into place once more.  

It prowled forward and moved to all fours besides a body.  The maw opened fully and fell to the floor to better sense the blood and flesh.  Fresh. But not immediately so. It hadn't been living for minutes. Nothing in the room was.  

There was more blood being spilled lower in the building.  It drew the creature's attention with its raw taint. Something was killing.  Something was killing its food and definitive hosts. There was another predator here.  

Raising up to its legs, the creature roared out its scream of challenge and fell into the ground to find its adversary.

Chapter Text

Listening to the kid had been a mistake.

Hopper decided that long before the young adult had said anything.  He had decided that when they had first escaped; when the lock on his cell had been shot away and he had left it to join a growing group led by some Hawkins teen.  They had ran down halls and shot the Russians that got in their ways and Hopper had felt the crawling anticipatory warning run through his systems as the electricity began to struggle.  

Hopper had decided that when the suggestion to go downstairs and find an entrance to the Upside Down was pitched by him.  That was a warning sign on its own; yes, he and Joyce had done that but they had been to get Will. This was an emergency as well and Hop had seen the bleak outdoors with zero hopes of survival just as every other had- but even with that bleak truth, he did not trust the suggestion.

Hopper had decided that when the prisoners had finished battling in one room and he had turned in time to see the Hargrove boy rising off a body with receding black crawling up his arms.  That had been all the proof he needed-

Because Hopper had been close to deciding that fact long before they had even escaped into this madness.  He wasn't sure why the young adult was here. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure why he was there in Russia.  But he knew the gate had been responsible. The explosion of the Russian drill (of a sorts) had knocked him out cold and, as he discovered when he awoke to cold and unnervingly soft ground beneath him, apparently sent him through the very gate they were trying to shut.  How he had traveled through the twisted reality from Indiana to Russia, Hopper wasn't sure. He had woken to the vines beneath his back and the Russians grabbing his legs and dragging him. How Hargrove was here as well, Hopper couldn't even begin to guess- but he had originally guessed, back at the start of this nightmare, that things weren't in the state they had been back in Hawkins (where last he had heard the young adult was in the same situation Will had been in during the fall).

The lights, the suggestion, the black- they proved he was wrong in that original guess.  Hargrove was very much not normal.

He knew that.  He knew that whatever suggestions Hargrove made didn't likely even come from Hargrove.  But as the kid had said: what choice did he have?

The lights on the equipment by the drill blinked when they walked through the closed room into the large one containing the laser.  The far wall was lit by a dim glow emanating from the crack of a gate. Vines crawled from it to the cracked wall but had not yet grown to cover the red opening in reality.  That was what they were supposed to walk through?  

One prisoner swore at the sight.  He denied it as an option.

Others looked weary.  Exhausted from months or years of Russian captivity, constant fear of being fed to the thing downstairs, the fighting of the last hour.  The weary ones seemed ready to just get it done with- either by going through the gate into whatever danger would lie on the other side or by laying down here and waiting for the Russians or their pet monster to finish them.  

Still others looked ready to go shoot some more and storm out into the bleak night regardless of how the cold would kill them.  On their opposite were those still ready to fight but hoping to do that in a twisted world in order to get back to their homes.  

Billy just wanted to get out of Russia.  This arguing was grating on his nerves. It went on and on and on until every light in the room that wasn't coming from the gate itself shot up in brightness and burned out into darkness.

And then the debate was cut short.  

It started with a ripping noise.  Like fabric being stretched too far; only far louder.  Then, as if the fabric had been torn by the pressure, the wall that had been elongating outwards, like strained putty with sharp jagged edges under it, broke.  It exploded forth with slime from a torn membrane that was briefly visible inside the wall before the stone grew over it as if it had never bent and broke past reality.  

His mind froze up in it; in the impossibility of it all.  Calm fought and took hold of his brain in cold tendrils that equalized his body's brief panic reaction.

Stretching up from the floor it had broken through the wall onto was the basement monster.  The humanoid creature that he had watched eat plenty of living meals under the Russians. The attack dog fulfilling its orders to spread disaster over this facility.  It had caught up to them.

Pale gray skin was impossibly free from the membranous strings that should have clung to it after sliding through slime- even free of that, the ridged skin seemed to have a sheen outside of the human blood clinging to various sections of its body.  

His plan had been to get free of this place before that thing caught up to him- now it was here and he wasn't sure he could out-muscle it (he had out-muscled metal- he didn't know how, didn't know when, but he had.  Would this be that much harder?)

Lanky arms were held out from the body and for just one second it was completely still.  Then the monsters head split apart and it shrieked at them all. Every one of them stumbled back from the noise.  There were so many of the humans and only one monster; he'd assume it was outmatched but that was reassured against by the knowledge these creatures withstood clips after clips of gunfire from human militaries.

Roar delivered, the monster leapt forth onto the human closest to it.  The others shot and backpedaled. Bullets tore into the fleshy body but it moved like it hadn't even felt the shots.  It ripped through the chest of the fallen human and then pounced onto the next. A third fell before the others realized shooting wasn't working.

Someone was shouting 'go' repeatedly.  He obeyed the unknown cry and ran for the gate.  There were more cries behind him but Billy didn't turn to see what was happening.  Out of his peripheral vision he saw the lanky form knock someone only a few feet away from him to the ground; he didn't stop to look.  No-no stopping. Only the destination-only the gate. Safety. There would be safety if he got to it.

Would he make it home from there?  The question had been bothering him since he had pitched the idea of this to the others upstairs.  Would this gate take him to a place he could get back to California from? Hell, even Hawkins? As disgusting, annoying, shameful, that place was- he roiled at how strong the emotions coming at the thought of it were and pinned the hate and shame emanating so strongly from defeat on his beat down in the Byers house.  Disproportionate. Not even that defeat, no not that one defeat defeat ignominious defeat, could make him want to turn the place down if it was an alternative to Russia.  

How could he care right now?  The destination was safety. The here was screams and blood and death.

His hands reached up the wall and grabbed the lower edge of the crack.  Besides him were some of the others. The police man was still shooting at the monster but his back was to the little crowd that had gathered at the base of the gate.  

The shots stopped and the silence that followed was disturbingly still.  The creature had disappeared. The humans huddled closer; waiting, just waiting, on edge for it to show again.

Plaster disrupted under the feet of one of the Americans.  With terrifying speed, the monster rose from the ground in the exact spot as the man only centimeters away from that sheeny skin.  Its claws were in his arm and throwing them both from the spot. Billy twisted his head back forward and pulled up with strength belying more than just adrenaline.  His body crashed into the gelatinous pink cover of the small gateway. A foot broke through the coating as he twisted atop the crack to reach down for the next in line. With one hand bracing his balance on the wall, the other pulled first one, then two, then more.  There was a gunk in his arm clogging his veins and visibly blackening the exterior that helped make the task easier. Part of him knew he should be freaking out at the alien sight under the skin of his arms but somewhat more worryingly was the ease he felt in just taking the sight by stride.  

The Chief grit his jaw when enough had gone up through the gate that it was his turn for his back to hit the wall and Billy's black hand to offer itself by his shoulder.  There was one second of decision making hesitation and then Hopper gripped the offered hand and pulled his way up through the glowing portal. There were a few more living humans in the room but his quick glance showed them all bleeding on the floor or currently being grappled by the creature.  There wasn't a chance for them now.  

Billy straightened precariously on the top of the concrete and turned himself on the few inches it offered before the shimmering pink wall took its place.  He punctured through the gate like the others had, leaving the roaring creature and Russia behind.

Hosts were better intact.  Normally they would be identified by scent that held no blood.  Carefully hunted. Challenging. Challenging to find without the strong scent of life liquid spilt.  But found. Left intact. Better hosts that way.

It hadn't left many intact here.  The rival predator, the group of two-legs, hadn't left any intact.  Little pellets ripped soft possible-hosts. It would scout the building again later. Look for any that had escaped noticed. For now it would feast and build with suboptimal corpses. Now it could do that without interruptions.

The rival predator was gone.  The Tainted had taken the living two-legs home.  Home was cold. Home was bland. It liked this warm and bloody facility much better.  Here it did not have to eat fungal eggs. Here there was real prey to chase.  Challenges.

The creature finished dragging the bodies of the fallen towards the stairs.  It would gather all to its nest...whenever it made a nest. Could make one here.  Could make one here-there. This room- a door was here, one that would not shut on it.  It could make a nest here and use the vines from the door. Then it could stay here and not have to go there.

It didn't matter much that, between two predators, all prey had been broken.  The strong sense of blood had frenzied hunger until all other purposes were ignored.  But it had won.

It had a new nest.

It had its purpose- to spread, to destroy, this facilities and then what lay beyond in good time.  Moving far from the nest was against its nature. But it would go.  Find more prey.  

It had no rival.  The dangerous two-legs hadn't fought for dominance over this nest.  

Here it was the unrivaled predator.  

Listening to the kid had definitely been a mistake.

Looking up at the enormous shadowy monstrosity, Hopper tried to remind himself the alternative was being eaten by the demogorgon left behind.

A few months before he had been there as his daughter shut the gate.  He had seen this very thing press its featureless head against the gate in an effort to break through before she shut it out for good.

For good.  It was supposed to have been for good.  Not still around in anyone's life.

It seemed so much larger than he'd imagined.  

So far it hadn't attacked.  But it had been waiting for them.  Hopper had peeled through the gate and stumbled a few feet on the soft ground of the Upside Down.  Almost immediately his head had shot up. The other two times he had been to this twisted place, it had been empty.  Dark. Now he had no flashlight, only a half empty russian rifle, and no helmet protecting him from the freezing and most likely poisonous air.  He held no familiar equipment that he had in his other visits. And, in a similar manner, the place itself was different than he had seen it before.

Now, instead of being an empty wasteland, there was another living thing visible.  Something towering overhead and seemingly looking down at the little humans that had landed in its playground.  Just waiting.

There was dread that rumbled through his entire body.  The feeling was being matched by other emotions- feelings that shook through him but weren't distinctly nameable, weren't his.

The massive monster above them rumbled deeply and the entire landscape seemed to shake from it.  The noise might have been pleased.  

This thing was what he had traded for- the option he had chosen.  Because he knew the whole time, before they had ever gone through the gate, that it would be here in this realm. 

But he needed to get home. And he couldn't cross miles and miles of snow until he reached the civilization of a country that hated him and was at unspoken war with his own.  The Upside Down meant bypassing that political danger and even the oceans themselves; when he had been here with Joyce he had seen that there was no water in the stream beds and pools.  But it meant monsters- demodogs, demogorgons, other undiscovered creatures...and the indescribable creature in the air that ruled it all.  

No shadow tendrils had fallen upon any of them yet.  No doubt they would. Soon. Or even not that soon. It could wait until they were almost free to fall on them.  But it would have all the time in the world to kill them before they managed to get back to Hawkins.  Or...

Oh God.  He hadn't considered that.  Hadn't realized that this may not end in his death the way he had imagined.  It might end with him somehow, miraculously, back in Hawkins. Back to his little girl.  Back to Joyce. Back to that obnoxious little Wheeler boy dating his daughter. But not back.  There like Will had been the previous fall. The 'spy'. A sleeper agent. A puppet possessed.  

The Mind Flayer, as Henderson called it based on his game, could simply...'flay', as it were, his mind.  Send a duplicate back to the waiting and happy family in Hawkins that wouldn't realize they were embracing the monster that had vindictive grudges on them.  It could use him to hurt everyone he cared about; even the annoying Wheeler boy.  

Hopper grit his teeth.  Continued looking straight up at that enormous shadow head.  No. He'd made it back to Hawkins without that thing taking him over.  And if it did, his girl would realize what was wrong- she was a psychic after all.  He had total faith in her. Joyce would notice because the woman was always on edge ready to blame little things like magnets on monsters...and end up correct as crazy as that seemed; she'd correctly pin down that something was wrong with him if and when he came back from the dead. 

This new monster wouldn't ruin everything he'd sacrificed his life for. It could try. But it would fail. This was the option he had chosen and it would be the one he would win in- he wouldn't be eaten by the demogorgon, would survive this hellworld, would make it home and would keep his family safe.

There was another sound- it felt, as inexplicable as that oxymoron statement about sensations was, amused.  The shadow limbs continued to flow and one bent to allow the head to near even closer to the twisted ground and the shaking humans.  He tried to stand as resolute, as defiant, as he could while most of the others backpedaled or fell to the ground. Maybe, like the kids had theorized back in fall, it was smarter than him?  Hopper knew that wasn't a tall bar. Maybe his thoughts and internal declaration of its defeat could somehow be heard by it? Possibly. It wouldn't even be the weirdest part of any of this shit. But if it could?  If it could, he would repeat his thoughts as loudly as he could.  

So it could try.  It could make it hard to travel back or it could send its pawns after them or it could just attempt to take control of them.  

Hop dared it to.

This.

This hadn't been the plan.

Had it?

Billy was still by the gate.  Standing in a twisted world in a shadow.  A shadow that covered most of the sick ground and engulfed the sky.  This world, he had seen it before- had seen a flash of it full of people, with his face at the lead talking to him.  Answering him. But there were no shadow people now. No attack dogs. Nothing living but the mind above in the air pressing down on them all with sickening pressure.

Billy was terrified all at once.  This was worse. This was far more horrifying than the creature below the Russian lab.  This wasn't a way home (but neither had been the door-the snow-there had been no true way to escape).  

And at the same time, the something rumbling inside his body was -happy? satisfied perhaps?  Those feelings were contagious. As completely dangerous as this place and that thing was, at the very least it felt...home.