CHAPTER 32
TEENAGED TRAGEDY

EDWARD didn't expect to get a call from Hopper once he got home from the station that night.

Veronica was working until close tonight, so Edward planned to stay in, make himself a box of Kraft Mac 'N Cheese, and watch some Star Search. He had just finished his meal for the night, and as he propped up his feet on the coffee table, leaning back into the old cushions of his sofa, the radio beside him began to create static, and Edward suddenly came to the conclusion that his plans were crushed.

Hopper had begged him to rush down to the old Hawkins Lab as soon as possible. Edward wanted to ask why – the lab had been closed down since they patched up the experimental walls late last year – but he didn't have time to. Hopper was pleading, voice strained through the static of their cheap walkies, and Edward had a strong feeling that this was bigger than he realized. He tugged his uniform back on and was in his cruiser within five minutes.

As Edward pulled up to Hawkins Lab, rain pounding onto the roof of his car, he could see why the place was closed down. It looked like it was rotting from the inside out, practically screaming the word, condemned. He walked out into the pouring rain, sweeping his short hair from his eyes, and calling out, "Hopper! Where you at?!"

He didn't have time to ask again, because someone was already screaming inside.

Edward moved at the speed of light, hardly registering the broken chain that laid in front of the laboratory's entrance. He remembered the halls of Hawkins Lab far too well. He remembered the twists and turns of every tunnel, how monsters lurked around every corner. But that was gone now, and all Edward had to focus on was the familiar screaming that resonated before him.

"This is Hawkins' Chief of Police. Come out with your hands up!"

He was close. He had to be. Edward pulled his pistol from the holster, turning off the safety, as his flashlight threatened to slip from his belt. "Hands up!" He heard Hopper shout. Edward swallowed hard as thunder crackled outside, growing louder each minute, but the next thing he heard was even louder.

"HOPPER! STOP!"

Joyce Byers.

Edward's breathing was heavy as he hollered, "Joyce! Hop! Where are you –"

He sprinted around a sharp turn, stopping short at the sight before him: Joyce sunk into the corner of the room, hugging her arms around her skinny torso, watching Hopper with a frightened expression. In front of her, Hopper was being tossed around the room – by who, Edward didn't know. The person was as sleek as a shadow, hidden within the darkness of the doomed laboratory. Their body was built like a truck, and they slammed their fists onto Hopper's back, before eventually kicking him to the ground.

Edward raised his weapon, finger hovering over the trigger. "HANDS UP!"

The figure simply looked back at him. Lightening appeared before the large windowpane in the room, highlighting just a small part of the person's muscles.

"I said, 'Hands up!'" Edward repeated, walking further into the room. Hopper panted on the floor, but the shadow stayed completely still. "I am not afraid to shoot you, buddy! Put your fucking hands up!"

Joyce wailed out, "Edward, stop! You can't –"

Her cry was cut short, because before Edward could register the figure's actions, they were already in front of him, standing at least a foot taller than him. The shadow laced one hand around Edward's neck, causing the officer to gag, hoping for a small bit of air, and then threw him to the ground, right beside Hopper. Edward tried hurling himself back up, but the figure was on top of him, and before he had the chance to grab his pistol again, the person landed a sharp jab to his right eye.

Edward was knocked out cold.

•••

"A trip to China sounds nice. Imperial Panda," Robin clarified through fumbled words. "If you tread lightly ... That's Kaufman Shoes. The silver cat feeds. The delivery guy from Lynx Transportation. When blue and yellow meet in the west. The two hands of the clock in the food court are blue and yellow. It all makes sense."

Although her explanation had been thorough, Veronica still wasn't following, and clearly, neither was Steve or Dustin. Robin still convinced them to trust her; she had been the one to crack the code, after all. Veronica did trust her thought process, but she just didn't expect it to land her in the pouring rain at night.

It was past ten-thirty PM. The mall had closed a little while ago, but Robin assured them all that they had to stay. "You want to figure out who's behind these evil Russians, right?" She had asked, and Dustin knew that he just couldn't pass that up. So now, they sat out in the rain, getting drenched from head to toe, as they waited outside the parking lot located in the west. They managed to hide behind the lip of the hill, but it wasn't enough to fully cover them unless they ducked down.

Veronica watched a large transport truck back into the delivery garage as her hood began to weigh down on her head, the heavy rain threatening to slide it off. There were two men guarding the garage, dressed all in black and carrying two large guns. They were stone-faced and motionless. Veronica's brow lifted in surprise while she struggled to pull her hood more forward.

"God," she complained, "my hair is going to get so messed up. Do we really have to be out in the rain? We could get –"

Dustin turned his head in her direction, kneeling the farthest away from her. "Why does that matter? We're doing for the good of humanity, lady!"

Veronica narrowed her eyes. "Do I look like Mother Teresa?"

"Here, I got you," Steve muttered, squeezing himself in between Robin and Veronica to share his umbrella with her. Unlike everyone else, it seemed like he was prepared, but to be fair, Steve cared about his hair more than anyone else. "Better?"

Her stare shifted the slightest bit, and her muscles tensed up. "Uh – yeah, thanks."

"Can you lovebirds be quiet?" Robin whispered, before jabbing a finger at the scene in front of them. She blinked away droplets on her lashes. "Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes."

They all turned back, noticing a man in a bright yellow raincoat loop around the back of the truck with a dolly cart. He stacked it to the very top while whistling – quite loudly, if Veronica were being honest. Dustin saw him instantly with his binoculars and warned the others, "They're with that whistling guy. Ten o'clock."

Squinting her eyes, Veronica realized the boxes had the Imperial Panda logo on them. She hid her face more behind the umbrella.

"What do you think's in there?" Steve asked.

"Guns, bombs," Robin listed off, "chemical weapons, maybe?"

Dustin shook his head. "Whatever it is, they're armed to the teeth."

Steve rubbed at his eyes. "Great. That's great."

The doors opened slowly for the man in the yellow coat, and he continued to whistle while carting the dolly inside. Veronica silently wondered how her dad hadn't been tipped off about this, but she'd never know about Murray Bauman's warnings just last year. Maybe she had a knack for this detective shit, just as much as her dad did.

"What's in there, Dustin?" She asked, peering closer to the scene.

"It's just more boxes," he replied. "All from Imperial Panda."

Steve furrowed his brow. "Are you sure?" He asked, reaching for the binoculars. But Dustin's hand was already out, swatting Steve away. The older boy still tried for it again, pushing against Robin to get to Dustin's binoculars, which resulted in Dustin whacking his device against the guard rail in front of them.

Veronica almost gasped, but Steve's hand clamped itself over her mouth. The guards in black looked around and grasped their weapons tightly. Their eyes swiveled around the area, giving the group of teenagers just enough time to sink down under the lip of the hill. Veronica breathed heavily through her nose, grabbing the nearest thing for support and squeezing it as hard as she could. Her heart was in her throat and she decided that she really didn't want to die a teenaged tragedy.

It was then that she noticed what she was holding: Steve's hand.

Her eyes shifted to his, watching his lips shoot up into a devious smirk. "Friends don't normally hold hands, Moreda," he whispered in a singsong voice.

Veronica felt her pulse quicken at the words he once said to her a year ago. She snatched her hand away before he could continue, looking at the barren parking lot before them. Her mind was reeling, though, and all she could focus on was his hand, and the electricity, and how her hand fit so well within his. Stop it, Veronica! Her conscious reprimanded. Focus! Find a way out of here. You've smoked behind these buildings before your shifts.

A map formed in her head, showing her the ins and outs of the parking lots behind Starcourt. If they were on the west side right now, they could possibly hustle around the other way and end up at the lot right in front of the mall's entrance, where their cars sat. That had to be the only way.

She heard one of the men speak Russian below, and it didn't sound good.

"Guys," she called, "follow me."

Dustin blinked. "What? How do you know where to go?"

"Just trust me!"

With a shrug, Dustin followed the blue-haired girl, and the two teenagers trailed behind. Steve abandoned the umbrella, allowing the rain to completely demolish his hair. They crawled quickly under the guard rail, which only provided them a small bit of shelter. Veronica heard one of the guards start running through puddles. They needed to run now.

Veronica turned, yanking on her hood once again. "On the count of three, we run."

Steve's mouth fell open. "Ronnie, we're not –"

"One," Dustin counted.

Robin smiled, "Two ..."

"Guys!" Steve whispered loudly.

"Three," Veronica finished, quickly jumping to her feet and sprinting through the last patch of the west lot. Her friends followed in suit, shoes stomping into the deep puddles, hoods flying off in the harsh, summer wind. Veronica looked down, noticing that the guard still standing watch had his back turned, and she smiled confidently.

They arrived at the east lot in seconds and Veronica received a congratulatory slap on the back from Dustin. She jolted slightly at his touch, the image of slimy vines and dust-filled air clouding her vision. She snapped out of it just as quickly, though, smiling in Dustin's direction as they hustled to Robin and Steve's cars.

"Way to go, lady!" Dustin jumped for joy.

Robin agreed with a grin. "Well, I think we found your Russians."

"We have to leave, like now, guys," Steve said, frantically sticking his key into the lock of his car. His fingers fumbled just a bit. His body shook with nerves, and all Veronica could do was watch because friends can't console their ex-boyfriends. "I'll take Ronnie and Dustin home, okay?"

The blonde leaned up against her yellow Triumph TR7, holding a hand up in front of Steve. "Slow your roll there, Lover Boy. You take home the child and I –" She smacked a hand against her chest. "– Will take home the ex. Trust me, it's better for both of us and we'll get out of here faster."

Steve waved her off and swung his door open. "Fine. Sure. Stay safe," he huffed, sliding into the driver's seat.

"Hey, Harrington!"

He looked up from igniting the engine, hanging one arm outside the window. Steve pushed his head out and quirked a brow upward, noticing Veronica leaning against the passenger side of Robin's car.

"If any evil Russians try to get you in the night," she grinned, "remember you have your bat. The one with the nails."

Steve could only smile back.

•••

It took all her strength to get out of bed the next morning. Veronica's legs burned, her back hurt, and her ears had been ringing for over ten hours. At the very least, she had been able to fall asleep like that once Robin dropped her off at midnight. However, she wasn't feeling too hot the morning after, but that was to be expected. She was just glad to have a day off today. If she had to go into Scoops this afternoon after last night ... Veronica was sure that she'd fall asleep in a tub of ice cream.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Veronica padded down the hall to the kitchen. She felt leftover mascara clinging to her lashes, as well as eyeliner that was definitely smudged underneath her eyes. Apparently, she didn't have the will to take it off before she went to sleep last night, and she was definitely regretting it now. It felt like two large boulders were weighing down her lids.

She tip-toed over to the kitchen, expecting to find a note from her dad that said when he'd be home that night, but there was nothing around. Veronica shrugged and tugged open the refrigerator, running a hand through her blue tangles. Spotting the carton of orange juice on the door, Veronica grinned and yanked it from the shelf, immediately bringing it to her lips. Her mouth felt drier than a desert, and the mere taste of the tangy liquid was like heaven in a bottle.

A snore echoed from the living room.

Veronica spun around, almost dropping the carton in her hand. She closed the refrigerator with her hip and crept forward, curving past the kitchen island and into their tiny living room. She finally noticed then that the TV was on, but also muted, with one antenna bent slightly. The picture flashed to black and white every so often. Veronica abandoned her orange juice on the small, circular dining table, spotting her famous spiked hockey stick by the front door. (She always kept it there for emergencies.) Grasping the hockey stick tightly, Veronica tiptoed up to the sofa and peered over the edge, weapon ready for action.

But it was just her dad.

She released an annoyed huff, leaning against the hockey stick with ease. Looking closer, Veronica then noticed that her dad had a black eye. She blinked, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her, but the bruise was evident: a blistering, purple ring surrounded his closed, left eye. Veronica set down the hockey stick and rounded the couch, shaking her dad until he woke with a snort.

"What happened?!" He shouted, looking around the room with a distant gaze. "Are Hop and Joyce okay?"

Veronica's expression twisted. "What are you talking about?! You tell me what happened! How did you get that goddamn black eye?"

Edward sat up straighter, placing his palm onto his left eye, which remained shut no matter how much he wanted to open it. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, wincing in pain at the slightest touch of his hand. Veronica tapped her foot in front of him, impatiently waiting for an answer. Edward looked up at her and shrugged casually. "I got in kind of a ... scuffle last night."

"Scuffle?" She repeated in disbelief. "It looks like you got in more than just a scuffle, dad. You can't see out of one eye." Veronica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kneeled in front of him, tilting her head to the side. "Where were you last night? I got home late, but I don't think your cruiser was here at all."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "Would you believe me if I said I went back to Hawkins Lab?"

Her brow crinkled. "Why would you go back there?" She shook her head. "I thought it was condemned. Someone said that the mayor was going to tear it down."

"It is condemned. That doesn't mean someone still can't get in." Edward stood and stumbled over to the dining table, picking up the juice carton that Veronica left out. He didn't even have the strength to lecture her about it. Instead, it took a long swig from the carton, allowing the citrus juice to awaken his entire body. He wiped the excess liquid on the back of his hand and turned back to Veronica, who was still waiting by the sofa with crossed arms.

"Hopper called me down last night," he explained, leaning on one of the chairs. "He sounded frantic, begging for backup at the lab. I know it's condemned, but I really didn't question it. When I got there, I heard a scream, then Hopper yelling at someone. I ended up finding both him and Joyce Byers in some dark room, fighting off this guy that I couldn't see. Before I could do anything, he knocked me out. Joyce must've gotten me home."

Veronica nodded, muttering under her breath, "The door's always unlocked."

Edward looked to his feet before taking another large gulp of the orange juice. The front door would always stay unlocked.

The shrill sound of the kitchen phone ringing startled them. Veronica pursed her lips and pointed a finger in his direction. "You need to call Hopper and Joyce Byers. Check-in on them. God knows how bad they look if you're walking around with a black eye." She tsked, rounding the sofa and heading for the phone. "You have work too, right? Probably a good idea to change into a clean uniform and get there, seeing as you're – oh, wow – two hours late."

"Shit," Edward huffed under his breath, throwing the juice carton down before running to his bedroom.

Rolling her eyes, Veronica picked up the phone and cradled it in the crook of her neck. "Moreda residence. What do you want?"

"Ronnie! Oh, my God, I'm so glad you picked up."

Veronica lifted a brow at her ex-boyfriend's voice, and she was suddenly clutching the phone with a tight grip. "Steve? Why are you calling here at –" She paused and looked at the clock hanging above the fridge. "– Ten in the morning? Especially, on my day off."

"Yeah, about that ..." He hesitated for a moment, and Veronica could practically see him chewing hard on his bottom lip, like how he always did when he was nervous. "I need you to come in."

"What?!" She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "No way, Harrington. I've worked six days straight. I am not –"

The line became muffled, and all Veronica could hear was two people arguing on the other end, accompanied by static filtering through the speaker. She drummed her fingers irritably on the refrigerator.

"Listen, lady," Dustin's voice suddenly cut in, causing Veronica's nose to wrinkle, "you need to come to the mall right now. I don't care about your day off. Humanity is at stake! This is a code red. I repeat: a code red."

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I don't know what that means, kid."

"Just ..." Dustin exhaled heavily. "Just meet us on the roof of Starcourt in an hour. Right above the lot we were at last night. Okay?"

The call had cut out before she could respond. Slapping the phone against the kitchen wall, Veronica let out an annoyed groan and then began her trek back to her room to get dressed. Edward rushed out of his bedroom as she neared her door, quickly pinning his deputy badge to his khaki shirt. "You're going out?" He asked, almost breathless. "What's going on?"

"Whatever it is," she sighed, "it's gonna be a long day, I think. Expect me to be home late."

Edward furrowed his bushy brows, tugging on his shoes while hopping to the front door. Veronica was surprised that he got himself ready in under five minutes. "What's the big emergency?" He asked, one hand on the doorknob.

She smirked. "Would you believe me if I said it was Russian spies?"

•••

A/N: Hey everyone I am back!!!!! from vacation

I really have nothing to say. I just wanted to share this pic 🥴🥴🥴

( made by JustSav )