Chapter 45

im so late on this update 😭 its literally 3 am for me but i did indeed crank out a chapter for yall

“That keycard opens the door,” Dustin says, “But unfortunately, the Russian with the keycard also has a massive gun.”

Steve leans over the table, “So what you’re saying is, whatever’s in that room—”

“—whatever’s in those boxes,” Maggie cuts in, finishing the thought, “they really, really don’t want anybody finding it.”

A heavy silence settles over the backroom. Robin twists an ice cream scoop in her hands, chewing on her bottom lip.

“But there has to be a way in. There’s always a way in.”

Steve shrugs, “Well, you know… I could just take him out.”

Maggie lets out a sharp, startled laugh, “Are you really that stupid?”

Steve gapes a little, “Wow. No hesitation at all.”

“I mean, what?” He straightens up, “I sneak up behind him, knock him out, take the keycard. Boom. It’s easy.”

Maggie drops her face straight into her palm, fingers dragging slowly down.

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?” Dustin says, voice pinched with disbelief.

“Yes, Dustin, I did,” Steve replies patiently.

He lifts his hands and slowly walks his fingers across the counter, miming stealth, “That’s why I would be sneaking.”

Dustin watches the performance, unimpressed.

He nods once, “Okay. So tell me this. And be honest.”

He pauses, savoring it, “Have you ever actually won a fight?”

Steve scoffs, “Okay, that was one time—”

“Twice,” Dustin corrects immediately, “Jonathan. Year prior.”

“That doesn’t count,” Steve argues.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Dustin presses, “Because it looked like he beat the shit out of you?”

Maggie nods without missing a beat, “He did. And I high-fived him for it.”

Steve throws his hands up, “Oh, that’s real nice. Thanks for the support.”

“You were a douchebag!” Maggie shoots back.

They’re mid-argument, voices overlapping and rising, when the back door bangs open.

Robin is already moving, darting past them and out into the lobby.

The three freeze, then exchange confused looks before rushing to the back window. They peer out just in time to see Robin scoop a fistful of cash out of the tip jar.

“Robin! Hey—what are you doing?” Steve calls as they spill into the lobby after her.

“I need cash,” she says briskly, already stuffing it into her pocket.

“Half of that is mine!” Steve whines, “Where are you going?”

“To find us a way into that room,” Robin says, backing toward the exit, “A safe way. And in the meantime, sling ice cream, behave, and don’t get beat up.”

She points at each of them in turn, “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

The bell over the door jingles as she disappears.

Steve turns around just in time to see Maggie and Dustin licking the ice cream scoops like guilty toddlers.

“Seriously?” he says, snatching them both away.

An hour later, Robin bursts back into the backroom, slightly breathless and grinning like she just won the lottery. She’s carrying a large roll of paper tucked under her arm.

“It is fascinating,” she announces, “what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder’s Office.”

She clears a space on the table and unrolls the paper with a flourish. A detailed map spreads out in front of them.

“Starcourt Mall,” she says proudly, “Complete blueprints.”

“Not bad,” Dustin says, impressed, leaning in close.

Robin points to a small labeled section, “This is us. Scoops Ahoy.”

Then she traces her finger across the map, “And this is where we want to get.”

Steve squints, “I mean… I don’t really see a way in.”

“That’s because you’re thinking in terms of doors,” Robin says.

She lifts the blueprint, revealing another sheet beneath it, this one crisscrossed with thin lines and narrow passages.

“Air ducts,” Dustin breathes, realization hitting him all at once.

“Exactly,” Robin says, eyes bright, “Turns out, even secret Russian mystery rooms need air. And these ducts,” she traces the path with her finger, “lead all the way here.”

The four of them stare at the map, the plan settling in whether they like it or not.

They all tilt their heads in unison, eyes tracking up to the vent grate bolted near the ceiling. Steve springs into action like this is finally his moment to be useful. He drags over the rickety ladder, its legs screeching against the tile, and snatches a screwdriver from the junk drawer.

Metal clinks echo through the backroom as he works the screws loose. The grate rattles and comes free, releasing stale, dusty air.

“Flashlight,” Steve says, holding one hand out without looking.

Dustin steps forward, taking the grate and swapping it for the flashlight. Steve shines the beam inside the vent, squinting as he angles it around.

“Yeah… I don’t know, man,” Steve mutters, “I don’t know if you can fit in here. It’s, like, super tight.”

“I’ll fit,” Dustin says immediately, “Trust me. No collarbones, remember?”

Robin’s eyebrows shoot up, “Uh, excuse me?”

Steve climbs down, lowering his voice, “Oh, he’s, uh… he’s got some kind of disease. Chry… uh… chrydo… something. Yeah, I dunno. He’s missing bones and stuff. He bends like Gumbo.”

“You mean Gumby,” Robin corrects flatly.

Steve practically scoffs with his eyes, “I’m pretty sure it’s Gumbo.”

“Steve,” Dustin snaps from above, already halfway into the vent, “just shut up and push me!”

Steve sighs and climbs back up, grabbing Dustin by the ankles and giving him an awkward shove.

“Not my feet, dumbass!” Dustin yelps, “Push my ass!”

“What?”

“TOUCH MY BUTT, I DON’T CARE!” Dustin shouts, his voice echoing loudly through the duct.

Steve grimaces. He reluctantly adjusts his grip and starts pushing.

“C’mon, push!”

“I’m pushing!”

“PUSH HARDER!”

Maggie watches the whole thing with a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking, “I’m never letting him live this down.”

“I expect nothing less,” Robin says, rubbing her temples like she’s aging in real time.

The incessant ringing of the front counter bell suddenly cuts through the struggle. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Steve freezes mid-shove. Dustin groans from inside the vent.

Robin turns toward the lobby window and squints. Standing at the counter is Erica Sinclair, arms crossed, expression already soured.

Robin slowly turns to Maggie, eyes lighting up, “I think I may have an idea.”

Maggie raises an eyebrow, “Is it stupid?”

“Probably.”

Maggie grins, “Then I’m in.”

Robin slips out of the backroom toward the lobby while Steve and Dustin continue their increasingly undignified wrestling match with the air duct.

“Just wiggle!” Steve hisses.

“I am wiggling!”

Maggie watches them for a moment, then shakes her head fondly. “This is what happens when you let boys make plans.”

A moment later, Robin returns, Erica trailing behind her, already looking unimpressed by everything and everyone in the room.

“Would you get down from there?” Maggie calls up.

Steve and Dustin pop down from the ladder, both wearing the same blank, caught-in-the-act expression.

“We’re enslaving children,” Maggie says flatly.

There’s a beat. Then Erica Sinclair calmly reaches for the flashlight, brushes past them, and starts up the ladder. She leans into the vent, light cutting through the dust, her face unreadable.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” she says, climbing back down.

“You don’t know if you can fit?” Dustin asks, already bracing himself for disappointment.

“Oh, I can fit,” Erica replies easily, “I just don’t know if I want to.”

Robin tilts her head, “Are you claustrophobic?”

Erica scoffs, offended, “I don’t have phobias.”

“Okay, then what’s the problem?” Steve huffs, arms crossed.

“The problem,” Erica says, “is that I still haven’t heard what’s in it for Erica.”

Steve closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Maggie leans in and whisper-shouts, “I think she means ice cream.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Steve snaps.

What follows looks less like negotiation and more like surrender.

Steve and Robin hustle around Scoops Ahoy, scooping and stacking with frantic energy. They set the ice cream lineup in front of Erica like an offering to a very small, very judgmental queen.

The other four hover, waiting.

Erica studies the banana split carefully, and pushes it away with one finger, “More fudge, please. Go on.”

She waves Steve off without even looking at him. He groans, but still trudges back behind the counter.

“Alright,” Robin says quickly, sliding the map closer once he’s gone, “See this?”

She taps a red outline traced through the blueprint.

“This is the route you’re going to take. We wait until the last delivery leaves tonight. Then you knock out the grate, drop down, and open the door.”

“And then you find what’s in those boxes?” Erica asks.

“Exactly,” Robin says.

Erica hums thoughtfully, “And you say this guard is armed.”

“Yes, but he won’t be there,” Dustin says confidently.

“And booby traps?”

Robin’s eyebrows raise, “Booby traps?”

“Lasers. Spikes in the wall?” Erica lists.

“What?” Robin laughs.

“Rolling boulders. Poison darts,” Maggie adds, “It’s a valid concern.”

Erica crosses her arms, “You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child endangerment.”

Robin lifts her hands, “We’ll be in radio contact with you the whole time—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Erica interrupts, “Child. Endangerment.”

Dustin straightens, adopting his most serious tone, “Erica? Hi. We think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm. Don’t you love your country?”

She scoffs, “You can’t spell America without Erica.”

Dustin pauses, “Uh… yeah. Yeah. Oddly, that’s totally true. So don’t do this for us. Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America, Erica.”

Erica smiles slowly, “Ooo. I just got the chills.”

Dustin beams in pride.

“From this float,” she adds, gesturing at the ice cream, “Not your speech.”

His shoulders sag.

“You know what I love most about this country?” Erica continues.

“Squirrels?” Maggie asks, suddenly hopeful.

“Capitalism.”

“Oh,” Maggie says, deflating.

Erica presses on, clearly enjoying herself, “Do you know what capitalism is? It means this is a free market system. People get paid for their services based on how valuable their contributions are.”

She leans forward slightly, “And it seems to me my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all.”

She gestures to the ice cream, “So if you want my help? This USS Butterscotch better be the first of many. I’m talking free ice cream for life.”

Maggie nods appreciatively, “You know, I really like your style. I respect the hustle.”

Robin groans, dropping her head onto the table, “Not helping.”

However, that night, after an exhausting amount of compromising, bribery, and blackmail, Erica Sinclair finds herself crawling through air ducts.

The metal is cold against her elbows and dust sticks to her palms as she inches forward. Outside in the hidden roof, the others wait in silence, walkies clutched tight.

“All right, nerds,” Erica mutters into the radio, “I’m there.”

“Do you see anything?” Robin asks, her voice pitched low.

“Yeah,” Erica says, peering through the vent slats, “I see those boring boxes you’re so excited about.”

“Any guards?”

“Negative.”

“Any booby traps?”

“If I could see them,” Erica replies dryly, “they’d be pretty shit traps, wouldn’t they?”

“Thank you for that,” Robin sighs.

Less than two minutes later, the heavy metal doors to the secret room slide open. Erica steps out, dusting off her hands and immediately pointing a finger at all four of them.

“Free ice cream,” she says sharply, “For life.”

The four exchange looks, but no one argues.

They descend into the room together, the door still gaping open behind them. The space itself is underwhelming. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, just stacks and stacks of boxes scattered around.

Steve grabs the nearest box and slices through the tape with a box cutter. The flaps fall open to reveal a large metal container with a handle bolted to the top.

He grips it, turning it slightly, then pops the lid with a sharp hiss.

Inside sit four canisters. Each one has a metal handle and faint condensation clinging to its surface.

Steve stares, “That’s definitely not Chinese food.”

He reaches for one.

“Uh,” he says slowly, “maybe you guys should, you know… stand back.”

Robin and Erica retreat immediately. Dustin and Maggie do not.

“Step back,” Steve says again.

“But I wanna see if it explodes,” Maggie says, grinning.

“Step back,” he repeats, sharper now.

Dustin plants his feet, “No! If you die, I die.”

They lock eyes for a long moment.

Steve exhales, “Okay.”

He grips the handle and slowly lifts the canister free.

The substance inside glows a seemingly radioactive green.

“What the hell?” Steve breathes.

“What is that?” Robin asks, unease creeping into her voice.

Suddenly, the floor shudders.

“Is it just me,” Dustin says slowly, “or did the room move?”

“Booby traps,” Erica whispers.

The room rumbles again, but it’s just a bit harder this time.

“You know what?” Robin says quickly, “Let’s just grab it and go.”

She reaches for the canister as Dustin bolts for the control panel by the door.

“Which button do I press, Erica?” he shouts.

“Just press the damn button, nerd!”

“Which one? I’m pressing the button, okay?”

“Press open door!”

“I’m pressing open door!”

Steve sighs sharply and shoves past him, “Just open the—press the other button.”

He reaches, knocking Dustin aside.

Robin yells, “Just get out of the way so she can press it!”

Their voices overlap in a messy panic. A mechanical whir cuts through the chaos.

An extra wall slams down from the ceiling, sealing the room completely, and suddenly the entire room drops.

“What—WHAT—” Steve yells.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my GOD!” Robin screams.

“THIS IS IT I KNEW IT!” Dustin shrieks, scrambling for anything to grab.

“MY ICE CREAM BETTER STILL COUNT!” Erica shouts.

Maggie’s laugh comes out wild and breathless, “I KNEW WE SHOULD’VE CHECKED FOR BOULDERS!”

The floor plummets beneath them, gravity yanking at their stomachs before the room slams to a stop with a violent crash.

Groans erupt all around.

“Is everyone okay?” Robin asks, clutching her head.

Steve staggers upright, “Yeah, I’m great. Especially now that I know Russians can’t design elevators.”

He storms to the control panel and starts aggressively mashing buttons.

Robin throws her hands up, “We’ve clearly established those don’t work!”

“They’re buttons,” Steve snaps, “They have to do something!”

“Yeah,” Robin fires back, “if we had a keycard!”

Steve freezes, “A what?”

“It’s an electronic lock. Same as the loading dock. If we don’t have a keycard, it won’t operate,” She swallows, “Meaning—”

“We’re stuck in here,” Dustin finishes quietly.

Erica clears her throat. “Just so you nerds are aware, I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s. Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible? She’s gonna hunt you down one by one and slit your throats.”

Steve finally loses it.

“I don’t care about Tina or Uncle Jack’s stupid party!” he yells, hands flying, “Your mom isn’t gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!”

“Hey,” Dustin cuts in suddenly, pointing upward.

Everyone looks to see a small hatch in the ceiling.

“What if,” Dustin says carefully, “we climb out?”

The room goes quiet again.