𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎 ★ steve harrington²

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : hazmat

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 2.9k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐗𝐘𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 had her floating between consciousness and unconsciousness, making her unsure if she was actually hearing echoes of her own name bouncing about the tunnels. With what strength she had left, her eyes opened slowly, unsurely. All she could do was stare up at the roof of the tunnel, bleary-eyed as she attempted to decipher between real-life and an idyllic hallucination.

However, the last thing she expected to see was a beam of light reflecting off of the slimy coating on the walls. The light from the torch had gone out a while ago, taking any semblance of warmth with it as it fizzled out. If it weren't for the vine wrapped firmly around Owen's neck, her teeth may have been chattering and filling the eerie underground silence.

But she was able to ignore the lack of feeling in her fingers when a blinding white light shined directly into her eyes. Owen instinctively flinched away in spite of her newfound optimism, having grown unaccustomed to such brightness.

"Owen!" She heard a familiar voice gasp. It was a woman's voice, she could tell that much, but the lingering flash in her vision prevented her from actually seeing the source of the sound. Exhaustedly, Owen's eyes fluttered shut when she felt the vines begin to tighten around her once more.

"Oh! It's his arm," the voice pointed out, followed by frustrated grunts and the squelching of the vines that Owen had been hearing for hours. "It's choking them," interjected a male voice this time, prompting even more confusion within Owen's befuddled mind.

"Knife..."

She could hear the sound of Hopper's voice, dry and weak, as he brought up their saving grace. Owen could only listen to the hisses and screeches of the vines as they were presumably cut away from Hopper's body. Owen's eyes filled with tears all over again at the prospect of actually making it out of these tunnels alive, by any means necessary.

"Get the kid," Hopper instructed. Out of the corner of her eye, Owen could see him point to her. "The kid," he repeated. He hadn't forgotten about her. Even as he was fighting for his own life against the constrictive vines, Hopper was thinking about her survival, too. God, she really didn't want to cry any more than she already had, but he was making it really fucking difficult.

"We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"

The calming voice had Owen refocusing her eyes, taking in the face of the male voice she had heard when help first arrived. It was a man with soft features – kind eyes, a warm smile, full cheeks. The only word that came to mind as she stared up at him was 'non-threatening'.

Still, he hurriedly cut into the vines that had ensnared her, allowing her to finally drag the thick mask away from her face and pull in short, terrified breaths. Once all of the vines had retreated, the man allowed for Owen to wrap her arm around his shoulders, her body sagging against his side once she was upright again.

"Hey, Bob," Hopper breathed, while somehow being held up by tiny Joyce Byers.

"Hey, Jim," the other man greeted. And normally, their nonchalance would have made Owen giggle had they been in nearly any other situation. But for now, the only thing on her mind was making sure they got out of these damn tunnels as soon as possible.

Sensing a presence behind them, Owen's head was pulled in the direction of a man in a full-body, white protective suit – one with a sealed helmet and all. If she had been surprised to see Joyce and Bob, words couldn't really describe how it felt to suddenly be face-to-face with a man in a full hazmat suit. But he didn't come empty-handed, or alone, for that matter. There were several people in suits just like his, filing through the tunnels with some sort of weapon in hand. It was one that Owen had never seen before; something like a gun with small, blue flames at the ready.