Interlude Two

"The Otherworld is now open to you," Rin had tossed out like it was some big deal, along with those freakish sunglasses. Yeah, 'open', sure, but a joy ride? Hell no. Not for humans, anyway. Not like Rin, who Two was convinced wasn't human at all. Probably some alien creature with too many tentacles and eyes in a human suit. Hopefully, one not actually made of a human. 

Sure, the shades did their job - kept his brain from turning into a mush like that first time he'd peered into this nightmare. He'd gone completely nuts, until Rin played mind-eraser to patch up his sanity.

But these glasses? They didn't just mess with his eyesight. They scrambled everything. Each step felt like navigating a minefield of sensory blackouts. One minute, he'd see clearly; the next, part of his view vanished into darkness. Sounds cut off mid-echo. Strange smells burst and faded like flashbangs. His body betrayed him, with patches of skin numbing without warning. He nearly face-planted when his sense of balance abruptly disappeared.

What sucked the most, though, was the way his psychic senses got all muffled. It was like trying to feel the world with gloves on; everything felt weirdly flat and distant.

The room, if it could be called that, was a kaleidoscope of whites. It wasn't just a single shade, but a spectrum he couldn't name. Figuring out its shape felt like playing chess blindfolded. All the mind-bending geometry Rin had taught him proved useless.

And the doors. Countless, sliding and shifting, partially hidden by those glasses. Behind them? Anyone's guess. For Two, a mere glimpse at the entrance sufficed.

"And that's enough," Two decided he'd had enough of this insane place. He recalled Rin's instructions and directed his words into the seemingly vacant room. "Cid! Open a path to Earth."

"Identity verified, action authorized by the primary user." The answer echoed from all directions, a chorus that sounded like what Two imagined hell might sound like, not that he put much stock in such things.

"Please further specify the location, or would you like one to be randomly chosen?"

The idea of leaving it to chance was almost appealing, but Rin had mentioned a particular place. It wasn't about Trevor. If he bumped into him, it'd be a coincidence. He sure as hell wasn't going hunting for him. "Hawkins. Get me to Hawkins."

"Please specify further or select a random location. The options are: the secondary user's house," likely Fano's. He made decent grub on Io but was another Rin-type freak. Two had his fill of that circus. "Aperture Hawkins Facility." Two snorted. Watching Rin sell gadgets to clueless earthlings? No thanks. Accidentally meeting Trevor was one thing; going where Rin suggested Trevor would be was another. "StarCourt Mall."

"That one," Two interjected, smirking. A mall was uncharted territory for him. This could be fun.

The portal to Earth spat Two out into an empty men's restroom. Smart move - restrooms were a great place to hide a sudden extra person. People didn't pay much attention to them, and even better, there were no cameras.

Weirdly, it was the same door he'd used to get from Io to the Otherworld, but Two had given up on making heads or tails of Rin's nonsense. Sunglasses were supposed to shield eyes from sunlight, not mess with sounds or balance. Doors were supposed to lead to the next room, not some limbo outside space and time. Trying to make sense of it all was a surefire ticket to the madhouse. Maybe he'd get a room next to Papa.

A sharp, unpleasant smell greeted him - a nasty blend of piss and worse, barely masked by the harsh scent of cleaning chemicals. Despite its repugnance, it was a human stench. He removed the special sunglasses and tucked them away in his pocket. He'd need them for the trip back, an experience he wasn't exactly thrilled about.

He reached out to stroke the spot where his pet snake usually curled around his torso, a gesture he found comforting. Instead of scales, his fingers met his own skin. He remembered that Sarlacc - he'd named the snake something because calling it just 'snake' had gotten stale - had refused to step into the Otherworld, forcing him to leave it behind on Io. Was the snake smarter than him?

Denied one source of comfort, he instead splashed some water on his face. It helped, just a bit.

Feeling slightly better, he boldly pushed the restroom door open and took his first steps into the mall.

The noise slammed into him like a wall. People, too many damn people, yammering nonstop. And not just the audible clamour - they were also recklessly spilling every thought they had into the air. This wasn't Two's first trip to Earth, but since his last visit, Rin had taught him a lot. The lessons had been harsh but effective. Pain was a great teacher. And Two? He could handle it. He wasn't some weakling.

Rin had taught him to listen, not with ears but with the mind. Such skill was vital, necessary for everyone. Basic, yet crucial. Along with this came the lesson of discretion. On Io, even the youngest knew better than to expose their thoughts like this. They'd rather go pants-less.

To him, this exposure was frankly quite gross.

Passing by a place called Jazzercise, he sneered. The huffing, puffing humans inside had no clue about real fitness. Not when compared to the gym on Io. And the people themselves: a chubby old guy trying to slim down for his daughter's wedding, a young woman chasing some warped idea of 'beauty', a college student desperate to bulk up to impress some girl. Their thoughts were clear as day to him - petty, and painfully ordinary.

And they were all so disorganized, so haphazard. Rin had crafted Two's body into a work of art - lean, gymnast's build, every muscle precisely where it should be, not too bulky nor too small. Two knew it well. It wasn't pervy to study himself naked in the mirror. He was simply admiring Rin's skill and his own dedication.

He spotted a girl chugging down something known as an Orange Julius. Out of curiosity, he snatched her sense of taste and nearly spat. A mess of ice, orange juice, some sickly sweetener, milk, powdered egg whites, and vanilla—all sloshed together into a nauseating slush. Humans and their freakish drinks. He quickly crunched on a sweet dried biscuit from Io, a solid reminder of home amid these earthly oddities.

This biscuit was Fano's handiwork, beating any grub churned out by the androids back on Io. And even that robot-cooked meal was leagues above anything Two had tasted on Earth. It was clear— everything on Io was just better. If Rin would stop messing around and simply take over, Earth might have a shot at improvement.

Wandering through the Starcourt Mall, it hit him like a punch to the gut— these people were actually content in their pathetic rat maze. The stench of mass consumerism was as potent as that overly sweet Coca-Cola slop Trevor had forced on him at the Sacred Yew club in Missing Mile. Just another crowd-pleaser for the mindless masses.

Did they lead such empty lives that this kind of crap brought them satisfaction? The thought made him shudder.

He wasn't one of them, these weaklings skittering about in their ignorance. Even when Papa was pulling his strings, he had more going on than these aimless drones. And now, under Rin's command, he was gunning for greatness.

But why the hell did Rin want him to visit this dump, anyway? Another test, probably. Rin loved to spring that kind of crap.

If only he had a clue what the test was. Rin was close by, pulling strings behind his guise as Ace Johnson. Probably part of some grand scheme way beyond the comprehension of simple-minded humans. He could just go ask Rin, but that would be admitting defeat. He wasn't about to do that.

Trevor was also somewhere around, something to do with his stupid comic. As if Two could give a rat's ass. That ship had long since sailed. He had no room for emotional baggage in his life.

The answer came to him without prompting. His lips parting in a wicked smile, he deepened his voice in a mock-Darth Vader impression, "I sense something; a presence I've not felt since..."

Tracking the sensation, Two found the missing Number. One of them, anyway. Little Miss Eleven. It wasn't exactly a shocker; Rin had casually mentioned that she was in Hawkins. What did he say? Visiting her little boyfriend. Rin even dared to suggest they had that in common, which was absolute bullshit. Trevor was not his boyfriend. Two didn't do the whole lovey-dovey relationship crap, just casual screwing around. Trevor had the honour of being one of those, and if Two accidentally bumped into him and was in a generous mood, Trevor might get another round. It'd be even better. Two had upped his game in the sex department. Practice makes perfect, after all.

She was a bit taller now, and had hair, but even without her distinct psychic vibe, Two would've spotted Eleven as the girl outside Claire's, eyeballing the storefront with some kid by her side. The squirt was dressed in a checkered shirt and shorts. Probably the boyfriend Rin had offhandedly mentioned.

Prowling like a predator, Two closed in on the oblivious duo.

"Hi, freak," Two snarked, his voice dripping pure scorn.

"Who are you calling a freak!" The puppy dog yapped back, posturing himself in front of Eleven like a ragtag knight. His thoughts were a goddamn coloring book to Two's psychic skills. 'Mike', his mind blared. Two could practically taste the kid's stupidly intense protectiveness of Eleven, how deep he was in puppy love. Their connection was like a neon sign, and it tasted like bile.

"Deeper in the shit than I thought, Mike," Two sneered, getting a sick kick out of the alarm splashed across the boy's mug. "Thought you'd look big and brave sneaking away from your chaperone, didn't you? Think about the shitstorm you'd whip up if you got caught, or were you too busy getting high on your own supply?"

Two caught the bite of Mike's fear and anger but shrugged it off, more interested in the wave of confusion and guilt that followed. He pushed on, high on the power trip.

"And you, Eleven?" Two's gaze slid to the girl he used to push around. "Letting this puppy pull your strings. Should've known better."

His words were like barbed wire, laced with pure disgust and something sharper, something deeper. He wondered if they picked up on it too - the sour jealousy gnawing at his guts at their goddamn storybook love. The way they clung to each other, parading their feelings like a damn rom-com - it was enough to make Two puke, in a way he didn't get.

"But then again," Two barreled on, not giving them a breather, "You've always been a bit naive, haven't you? Just going with the flow, never questioning... Not even realizing what you're getting yourself into."

His words hung in the air like a shroud, the stillness wrapping them up in an uncomfortable silence. Two caught the glimmers of doubt in Mike's eyes, the slight tightening of Eleven's hand around Mike's.

"Hold on, how do you know our names!? And everything else!?" Mike's voice raised, instinctively trying to shield Eleven with his own body.

Two brushed him off, focusing his icy stare onto the girl some might've labelled as his sister. Not Two. Not when just looking at her made his stomach churn. He felt absolutely justified about it. After all, last time Eleven got conned by a sob story, it ended with him and the others getting torn apart and devoured by a psychic cannibal. Yeah, he'd managed to recover, all thanks to Rin and the sacrifice of his other self, but that didn't mean he'd forgiven her. But something was missing.

Eleven resisted Mike's attempts to shield her, standing her ground and asking, "Do I know you?"

Recognition. That's what was missing.

"Pathetic," Two spat, his eyes darting between Eleven and her boyfriend. He wondered if this one would also turn out to be a psycho. Would she still be into him if he tried to bash her skull in with a hammer?

A rush of hot anger surged within Two. "I heard you'd forgotten about me, but seeing it... You're running from your past, aren't you? Coward."

With that, Two turned on his heels and left them standing there, Mike simmering with fury and Eleven looking completely lost.

This bullshit encounter had ruffled up some crap in Two, yanking open the doors to thoughts he usually nailed shut. Only in the dead of night, when sleep was being a bitch and doing anything else wasn't an option, did Two dare to chew on his freakin' doppelgänger. The guy who had tossed his life away so Two and the others could stick around.

A willing sacrifice. The concept made Two's brain do somersaults.

Was he such a piece of work that having a demon ride shotgun was an upgrade?

But this wasn't some pansy-ass demon. While being a meatsuit, Other Two had sent 'Papa' into a one-way trip to Crazytown and turned half of Hawkins lab personnel into a buffet...

Despite his stint as a horror villain, Other Two was game to bite the bullet... for himself.

Did guilt turn him nutso? Or was he cut from a different cloth than Two?

Or were they the same damn thing?

The thought twisted Two's stomach. He needed a distraction, pronto.

And just like that, he found it. The distraction he'd been looking for. He was being tracked. And he wasn't talking about the feeble attempt the weirdo and her puppet were making to follow him.

No, there was someone else, several someones, who were genuinely out to harm him.

Rin was using him as bait again.

Except, this time he wasn't some measly worm on the hook, he was the damn sharp, barbed metal hook.

First things first, though. He had to shake off those two. He didn't need a couple of clueless tagalongs messing up his well-deserved dose of violence.

Shouldn't be too hard. They were terrible at this. If he wasn't so preoccupied, they would've never managed to tail him in the first place.

Then he could lead his more serious stalkers to someplace remote. A place where nobody could ruin their fun. Well, his fun. They probably wouldn't enjoy the experience quite as much.

Two's plan was simple. First, he'd act like he'd finally noticed Eleven and Mike tailing him. He'd shake them off easily enough. They were so green they'd fall for it. But while he was doing that, he would make sure the real hunters, the meatheads pretending to be shoppers, could still track him.

Damn, these guys were huge. More muscle than your average shopper. They moved through the mall with a thud in each step that gave away their military training. Each one looking about as casual as a shark in a swimming pool.

After losing the kids, Two would fake needing to piss. A subtle change in posture, a little too much discomfort. Any observer would notice the tell-tale signs.

His mind drifted back to Rin's teachings. The guy was brutal, his lessons etched into Two's mind with the subtlety of a jackhammer. Rin didn't tolerate mistakes, so you didn't dare make the same one twice.

And so, with the confidence of a seasoned predator, he led his quarry right into his trap. There was an empty men's room nearby that'd be perfect for an ambush. Isolated. He could almost hear Rin's voice, probably transmitted directly from his alien mothership or whatever, saying, "Isolation, my young apprentice. What we do, we do in shadows. Unseen. Unremembered. Uninterrupted. "

He took a closer look at the hunters. One by one, he scanned them, catching snippets of their thoughts. A turn of phrase here, a memory of cold winters there. And then it clicked. These guys weren't just meatheads, they were Russian meatheads. Well, wasn't that a surprise? He shrugged it off. Must be part of Rin's plan.

Time to put the plan in motion. It was showtime.

The timing was perfect. Two spun around, feigning shock as he caught sight of Eleven and Mike tailing him. The two of them gawked like a pair of scared deer in headlights. "Crap," he mouthed, playing the part of someone who'd just been busted. He hiked up his pace, heading straight towards the crowd.

Eleven and Mike gave chase. Like two lost puppies following after their master. It was pitiful. With a smirk, he turned his mind to their surroundings, and with a subtle flex of his psychic muscle, Mike tripped over an invisible force. As luck would have it, he landed face-first right under the skirt of an older girl. Her shrieks, mixed with the offended barks of her jock boyfriend, created the perfect commotion to lose Eleven and Mike.

With the kiddie trackers off his back, he focused on his actual prey. The burly shoppers – no, the Russian soldiers – were still following him.

He adjusted his stride, subtly leaning forward as if struck by a sudden urge to pee. Making a beeline for the men's room, he slipped in, leaving the door slightly ajar.

The room was deserted, echoes bouncing off the grimy tiles. He quickly surveyed the layout, noting the placement of every sink, every stall, the mirror's reflection, the position of the trash bin, the puddle on the floor that someone could easily slip on.

Not that it mattered much. Even if the room was entirely empty, he was confident he could take the muscleheads. As he stood there, waiting in the silence, he felt a smirk spread across his face. It was showtime, indeed.

The meatheads barreled through the door, the leader strutting ahead while the other two spread out, trying to box Two in. Despite his slight Russian accent, the boss-man's command was clear as vodka, "You are coming with us!"

The accent was just a smidge, barely there. If Two hadn't already clocked these goons as Russians, it could've easily slipped by.

"Three Russian bears and, what? I'm supposed to be the twink?" Two shot back, his tone thick with mockery. He tilted his head, a devious grin tugging at his lips, "Shooting a Goldilocks porno? The gay version, I'm guessing?"

"Grab him!" the leader barked out the order. The two meatheads on either side sprang into action, lunging towards Two.

The lead meathead rushed at Two, fists primed for a strike. With a bored roll of his eyes, Two focused his telekinesis on the slick bathroom floor beneath the meathead's boots, causing him to stumble mid-stride. Simultaneously, Two used his own momentum and a bit of a psychic push to jump, practically flying towards his assailant.

"Blyat!" the lead meathead cursed, losing his footing.

Two twisted his body mid-air, extending his legs forward and bringing his feet crashing down on the meathead's head. The guy crumbled to the floor with a dull thud, dazed.

"Pizdets!" the second meathead blurted out, trying to rush to the aid of his fallen comrade. But Two was already in motion.

Pushing off from the leader's crumpled form, Two used his telekinesis to guide his body, turning it into a human missile aimed at the second meathead. Two slammed into him, sending the guy sprawling across the bathroom floor.

In a matter of seconds, the bathroom was quiet, save for the heavy panting of the incapacitated Russians sprawled across the floor.

In the mirror's reflection, Two caught sight of the third meathead standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and frozen. With a smirk, Two flexed his fingers, telekinetically slamming the bathroom door shut in the guy's face.

Two cracked his knuckles, grinning as he surveyed his handiwork. "Too easy," he muttered, brimming with cocky self-assurance.

It was high time to figure out why these muscleheads were tailing him. Sure, he could've just plucked the information from their unconscious minds, but where was the fun in that? Plus, it was always a little easier if they were awake.

With a grand, exaggerated sweep of his hand, Two's power surged. There wasn't any real need for the theatrics, but hey, why not make it fun?

The water in the toilets around the restroom shot upwards, spiralling under his control. It gathered in a swirling, glistening sphere above the crumpled form of the Russian leader. Two flashed a wicked grin at his handiwork, then let the water come crashing down on the unlucky musclehead.

The surprise shower was just the wake-up call needed. The leader's eyes snapped open, and a strangled curse echoed through the restroom. Now, Two thought, the fun really begins.

"So, manners aren't your strong suit, huh?" Two snarked, flashing the men a mocking grin. "Grab first, talk later. It's alright, though. We've got plenty of time to get to know each other now."

The Russians responded with nothing but icy glares. That amused Two. He didn't actually need them to talk, just to think about certain matters while his mind was prodding theirs.

Two focused on the sputtering leader, his mind delving into the man's consciousness. "Viktor, huh?" Two mused aloud, reading the man's name. "Or should I say, 'Bulldozer'? Quite a nickname you've earned in the ranks."

Viktor 'Bulldozer' Makarov. Born in the cold reaches of Siberia. Had a rough start in life, growing up in a village where the temperature dropped so low you had to chip the ice off your breakfast before you could eat it. Joined the army right out of high school, found he had a knack for obedience and a stubbornness that bulldozed any obstacles in his way - hence the nickname.

Viktor was surprisingly sentimental. Kept a picture of his grandmother in his pocket, the one who'd raised him after his parents died. She'd gifted him a small Orthodox cross for protection, which he always carried. Two couldn't help but snort at that. As if that could help him now.

"Didn't Marx say that religion is the opium of the masses?" Two asked rhetorically, telekinetically plucking the cross. To mess with the Russian, he pretended to get a shock when he touched it, smirking at his baffled expression.

However, the feigned shock did the trick, allowing Two to delve further into Victor's mind. Yet, what he found was baffling. These men had no idea who they were hunting. They didn't have the faintest clue about his abilities. Two glanced at his bracelet. Rin's creation was functioning exactly as it should.

That revelation brought another question to mind. "So, what do you want with me?"

Fear. It was so palpable that Two could practically taste it. The fear was accompanied by the mental image of a stern, older man with a military cap emblazoned with a red star: Commander Ozerov. Viktor was terrified of him.

A small, mocking smile spread across Two's face. "Well, if Commander Ozerov wishes to see me, I see no reason not to oblige him. So, how about you give me directions? No need to keep him waiting, after all."