Chapter 81: Scoops Troop
Steve
The sailor uniform was punishment for prescience.
I'd known Season 3 involved Scoops Ahoy. Known I'd work here. Known the ridiculous outfit was coming. And I'd taken the job anyway because positioning mattered more than dignity.
"Ahoy, ladies!" Robin called in exaggerated enthusiasm. "Would you like to set sail on an ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain—I'm Steve."
The customers giggled. I glared from behind the counter.
"You're having way too much fun with this."
"I'm having the perfect amount of fun with this." She rang up their order. "Besides, you knew this was coming. Literally. You could have gotten any other summer job."
"This one gives us direct access to Russian surveillance points."
"Still hilarious."
Seven months since New Year's Eve. Seven months of preparation, training, positioning resources. My Backpack had hit 100% charge weeks ago and I'd held it there, knowing I'd need the reserve for Season 3's chaos.
Fight Master Phase 3 sat at 90%—slight degradation from the corruption severance, but still superhuman by any standard. The silver scars on my hands caught fluorescent mall lighting as I scooped rocky road.
Robin
Steve had told me everything three months ago. Not the careful half-truths he fed everyone else, but actual truth.
"I'm a transmigrator. I died, woke up in this timeline with knowledge of future events, and I've been trying to save everyone ever since."
I'd thought he was having psychotic break. Then he'd proven it—showed me his Dimensional Backpack, demonstrated Phase 3 abilities, laid out four years of documented predictions that had all come true.
"So you're from the future."
"Sort of. Different timeline that became TV show in my original reality. I know what's supposed to happen here because I watched it happen there."
"And the Russians under this mall?"
"Season 3 main plot. They're drilling to the Upside Down, trying to open a gate. In original timeline, people die. Hopper 'dies.' Billy gets possessed and sacrifices himself. I'm here to change that."
Now I helped him. Monitored suspicious customers, tracked Russian agent movements, kept watch while he did reconnaissance during breaks.
"Incoming," I warned. "Two o'clock. Suspicious Slavic accent."
Steve glanced up casually, assessed, returned to scooping. "Scientist. Third tier. Not operational."
"How do you know that?"
"Body language. Operational agents move differently."
Steve
During my break, I walked specific routes through the mall. Casual strolling, window shopping, checking the stores I'd purchased stock in seven months ago.
The Portal-Marking Chalk in my pocket pulsed as I passed Storage Room 4. Faint glow, invisible to anyone else, marking dimensional weak point.
Entry point one. Confirmed.
Continued past the loading dock elevator. Stronger pulse.
Entry point two. Main access.
Back hallway near the service corridors. Brightest pulse yet.
Entry point three. Active drilling location.
Robin watched from Scoops Ahoy, documenting which routes made the chalk react. We'd been mapping the Russian operation for weeks, confirming everything my meta-knowledge provided.
"Three confirmed entry points," I reported quietly, returning to work.
"When do we move?"
"Not yet. They're not far enough along. Hit them now, they relocate. Hit them too late, gate opens." I checked my watch. "Six days. July 4th. That's when everything goes critical."
"You're sure?"
"Canonical timeline had the climax on July 4th. They'll activate the key during Independence Day celebration—maximum chaos as cover."
Dustin
THREE WEEKS AT CAMP KNOW WHERE. Three weeks of science, innovation, and falling in love with Suzie—smartest, prettiest, most perfect girl ever.
And when I finally got home? First stop: Scoops Ahoy. Steve worked there now, which was hilarious and also perfect because I had DISCOVERY.
"STEVE!" I burst through the door. "You're not going to believe what I—"
He hugged me immediately. "Missed you too, buddy. How was camp?"
"AMAZING. I met a girl! Suzie! She's incredible! Also I built a radio powerful enough to pick up transmissions from—"
The radio on my backpack crackled. Steve's face changed instantly—from friendly to tactical.
"—transmission six-one-niner-zero. Repeat, package delivery midnight, sector seven—"
Russian. Coded Russian transmission, coming through clear as day on my upgraded equipment.
Steve's hand landed on my shoulder. "How long have you been picking this up?"
"Since yesterday. Weird, right? Who's broadcasting in Russian from—"
"Robin, cover the store." Steve guided me toward the back room. "Dustin, we need to talk. Now."
Robin
Watched Steve take Dustin into the employee break room, face grim. This was it—the moment he'd been dreading and preparing for.
Dustin would want to investigate. Would crack the code, figure out the Russian operation. And Steve would have to decide how much to reveal, how to guide without exposing his meta-knowledge.
Always walking the tightrope, I thought. Knowing everything but pretending to discover it naturally.
My phone buzzed. Text from Lucas: "Dustin's back. Party meeting tonight?"
I glanced at the break room. Steve would coordinate that. He always did.
Steve
The break room was empty except for us. I sat Dustin down, turned off his radio.
"Listen carefully. That transmission you're picking up? It's not random. It's Russian agents operating under this mall."
"WHAT?"
"They're building something. Something dangerous. And we need to stop them, but timing is critical."
"How do you know this?"
"I've been monitoring them for months. Since before the mall opened." Half-truth, easier than full explanation. "That code you intercepted? It's instructions for a machine. A key."
"A key to what?"
I met his eyes. "The Upside Down."
Dustin went pale. "They're trying to open a gate? After everything that happened?"
"Exactly. But if we move too fast, they relocate and try again somewhere we can't find them. If we move too slow, they succeed." I pulled out my documented reconnaissance. "I've been planning this takedown for seven months. You just provided the final piece—actual intercepted communications."
"So what do we do?"
"We decrypt that code. We map their operation. And in six days, on July 4th, we destroy everything they've built."
Dustin
Steve had maps. Detailed maps of the mall's layout, Russian entry points marked, operational patterns documented.
"You've been planning this for MONTHS?"
"Since the mall opened. Since before, actually." His silver corruption scars caught the fluorescent light. "I knew they were coming. Knew what they'd try. I've been positioning myself to stop them."
"How did you know—"
"Long story. For later. Right now, focus: we need to translate those transmissions, confirm their timeline, and prepare the team."
"The Party?"
"And others. Billy, Hopper, El, Nancy, Jonathan. Everyone who helped stop the Mind Flayer last time." Steve's Phase 3 senses tracked movement outside the break room. "But we can't tell everyone yet. Operational security. For now, just us and Robin."
"Robin knows?"
"Robin knows everything."
That was ominous. But also comforting. Steve had backup, had been preparing, had contingency plans layered on contingency plans.
"Okay. What's first?"
"First, we crack that code."
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