Chapter 5: Blood Stains The Lab
Several more years passed.
For most people, seven hundred days and nights meant a slow accumulation of school years, birthdays, changing seasons.
But in the underground levels of Hawkins National Laboratory, time flowed differently—measured in cycles of injections and tests, recalibrations of ability assessments, pencil marks on the wall tracking the children's height as they grew.
Andy stood in his room, staring at his reflection in the small mirror mounted above the sink.
Per Lab regulations, his hair was still buzzed short. He'd grown taller, the baby fat melting from his face to reveal sharp cheekbones and a defined jawline.
But the most striking feature was his eyes: those pale, almost translucent irises now seemed to glow faintly when he concentrated, especially when using his abilities.
It wasn't just his body that had changed.
The initial rejection he'd faced when first entering the Rainbow Room hadn't completely disappeared, but it had evolved.
Most test subjects still kept their distance from Andy—not because he was weak, but because he was terrifyingly powerful.
When you can read someone's deepest, darkest secrets at any time, it's hard to make real friends.
But there were always exceptions.
Eleven was the first to accept him. Maybe because they were both powerful sensitives who could feel the "Void"—that dark space existing deep within consciousness.
Eleven's ability focused on telekinesis, but she'd also developed rudimentary telepathy, allowing her to share simple thoughts with Andy.
They often sat in the corner of the Rainbow Room, not speaking, just quietly exchanging perceived emotional fragments.
And there was Henry.
Number 001.
He'd been there since day one—since Andy first entered the Rainbow Room at age four.
He was in his twenties now, serving as the Lab's "Special Consultant," nominally responsible for assessing the children's psychological states, but in reality... Andy had never fully figured out Henry's true role. The man radiated contradictions.
On the surface: a gentle assistant.
Underneath: deep suffering.
At the core: something dark that Andy didn't dare fully probe.
But undeniably, Henry had always looked out for him.
Smuggled him extra dessert when he overtrained. Talked with him when the other kids isolated him. Even secretly showed him pictures torn from National Geographic—cities, forests, oceans, star fields—when Andy asked about the "outside world."
"One day you'll see it, Andy," Henry had said once, his finger gently tapping a star chart. "All of it."
Andy's abilities kept growing.
Dr. Brenner's training was systematic and rigorous: cognitive drills, ability development, theoretical courses... Andy excelled across the board, but what truly shocked the researchers was the speed of his telekinetic progress.
Two years ago, Andy could barely roll a pencil. Then levitate a book. Now he could simultaneously control a dozen small objects in complex aerial maneuvers.
The researchers called it Multi-threaded Control, believing it proved his brain could process information flow far beyond normal human capacity.
But Andy knew the most powerful ability he possessed—the one he'd never fully demonstrated in tests—was Mind Control.
Not simple suggestion. Genuine override of will.
He could make guards forget to check certain areas. Make researchers overlook anomalous data in reports. Even briefly "borrow" someone else's senses.
See the corridor through a guard's eyes. Hear conversations through a nurse's ears.
If he wanted, he could make everyone on the entire floor fall asleep simultaneously.
But what nobody knew was that Andy had secretly read the memories of almost everyone in the Lab.
After filtering out useless information, Andy had uncovered crucial intel—about his birth.
Through the files, he'd learned that his mother and Eleven's mother were part of the same group involved in a classified government experiment led by Dr. Brenner, using psychedelic drugs to access the Void.
It wasn't just the two of them. Virtually all the children born here later had been induced through the same experiment.
This experiment involved injecting Henry's—Number 001's—blood into pregnant mothers during gestation, thereby causing the children born to develop superpowers.
The difference between Twelve and Eleven was that their respective mothers had acquired powers during the experiment before giving birth to them.
But what puzzled Andy was that his ability development was completely different from Eleven's. He'd never successfully entered that Void.
Eleven had described it—said that when she used her ability deeply, she'd sometimes "fall into" a space with no sound, no light, no boundaries.
There, time was meaningless. The self would dissolve, leaving only pure perception.
But Andy was different. No matter how far he extended his consciousness, there was always an invisible barrier.
He could spread his perception beyond the Lab, hear thoughts of people in town, see the shops on Hawkins' Main Street, feel the instincts of animals in the forest—but he could never break through into that dark space.
It was as if his ability was designed to operate only on the physical plane, unable to touch deeper dimensions.
For instance, to sense someone, Eleven could directly locate them using a photograph. But Andy was different—his consciousness needed to extend far enough to physically reach the person's location to achieve the same result.
Correspondingly, Andy was somewhat stronger than Eleven on the physical plane.
For example, Eleven needed the Void to view someone's past, but Andy could directly and silently read or even manipulate anyone within range of his mental power.
Until today.
After training, Andy ignored the familiar hostile glances in the corridor and returned to his room, skillfully perceiving everything outside.
But when he sensed the drainage pipe area on sub-level two, he discovered two familiar presences: Henry and Eleven.
What were they doing there? That area led outside, but required security authorization to open the doors.
Then came a more disturbing discovery: Henry's conscious state was abnormal. Not the usual complex mixture, but... pure dark intent.
Suddenly, alarms blared outside. A bad feeling surged through Andy's chest. He quickly got up and left his room, intending to investigate.
But just as he rounded a corner, he ran straight into Henry.
Alone.
He had a wound on his neck, bleeding steadily, but he seemed completely unconcerned.
The collar of his white shirt was soaked red, looking particularly stark under the harsh corridor lighting.
"Hey, Henry, are you... hurt?"
Andy looked at Henry, focusing only on those blue eyes, which were unnaturally calm.
His perception expanded fully, piercing Henry's surface composure and touching the darkness surging beneath: pleasure in killing, satisfaction of revenge, and cold malice—ancient and not entirely human.
"What happened?" Andy asked slowly, his voice tight from trying to control his emotions.
Henry smiled.
The smile was handsome, almost perfect—but in Andy's eyes, coupled with that dense malice, it was utterly terrifying.
"You've always been able to sense it, haven't you?" Henry's voice was calm, even gentle.
Andy felt his heart clench.
"Henry, I know your ability," Andy said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I know what you can do. But they're just kids. They didn't do anything wrong."
"So are you, Andy." Henry took a step forward, closing the distance between them to three feet.
"You're a kid too. I know you've been hiding yourself all these years. Your ability is strong—stronger than Brenner thinks. But you can't stop me."
He tilted his head, like he was studying an interesting specimen. "If you don't try to stop me, we can still be brothers. Just like before. I can take you outside to see the real stars."
"Same goes for you, Henry," Andy said, his hands trembling slightly at his sides—not from fear, but in preparation. "I can sense how strong you are now. Maybe we can leave together—you, me, and Eleven. Leave here, leave Brenner, leave all of this."
Henry's smile vanished. His gaze became distant, as if seeing a scene only he could perceive.
"Some doors, once opened, can't be closed, Andy." He whispered, "Some debts must be paid in blood."
Just then, guards appeared simultaneously at both ends of the corridor.
Six men, armed with stun batons and pistols. They'd clearly received the alarm—here to contain the rogue subject.
"Both of you, hands up! Against the wall!" the lead guard shouted.
Andy didn't even turn around. His consciousness spread like a net, instantly contacting all six minds. Then he gently raised his left hand.
The guards froze simultaneously. Eyes went vacant. Weapons lowered. Briefly paused, their consciousness forcibly placed into a trance state by Andy.
"Henry, the past is over," Andy continued. "You don't have to be what they made you. You can choose—Ah!"
Sudden, intense pain exploded through his brain.
Not external. Internal.
Six guards, in the same instant, died.
Andy hadn't killed them. Their necks twisted at impossible angles, the crack of snapping vertebrae clearly audible in the quiet corridor.
Then they collapsed like puppets with cut strings.
And Andy, still connected to their consciousness, was forced to simultaneously experience six instantaneous deaths: agony, darkness, nothingness. Six times superimposed, like six sledgehammers smashing his consciousness at once.
Andy screamed, dropping to his knees, clutching his head.
Static filled his vision. Sharp ringing in his ears. Warm blood gushed from his nostrils.
Henry walked up to him, knelt down, and gently lifted Andy's chin with one finger.
The gesture was so tender—a terrifying contrast with what he'd just done.
"You're stopping me for the sake of people who hated you, aren't you?" Henry's voice sounded far away. "The ones who bullied you, rejected you, wished you'd disappear?"
Andy tried to speak but could only manage pained gasps.
"Oh, Andy, come on," Henry continued, wiping the blood from Andy's face with his thumb. "You can't speak highly of them either, can you? Think about how Two mocked you the first time you had a nosebleed. How Eight talked behind your back, calling you a freak among freaks. And those guards—you think I didn't know what they called you in private? 'Lab rats. Mistakes that shouldn't exist.'"
Henry's hand moved to Andy's temple, pressing lightly. "Tell me you never thought about revenge. On those lonely nights in your room, sensing their malice toward you. I'm just... more direct about it."
Andy closed his eyes. Part of what Henry said was true.
He had felt that malice. There were moments when he'd wished they would all just disappear.
"I won't forgive them," Andy finally managed, his voice hoarse. "But I don't want to see you go down this path because of it. Some people are innocent—they're just following orders. This isn't justice, Henry. This is just... more harm."
Henry's expression softened for a moment, as if touched by something. But the darkness quickly covered it again.
"Andy, I sensed a goodness in you that I never experienced in my own childhood," he murmured. "That's why I forgive your attempt to stop me just now. But if you keep getting in my way, I won't be so kind again."
He stood and walked toward the Rainbow Room.
Andy forced himself to stand.
His legs shook. Vision still blurry. But he focused all his remaining mental power.
He remembered Eleven was still there. And the other children.
"I won't forgive them," Andy said, his voice echoing down the corridor. "But Henry—I don't want to become you."
He focused his entire consciousness, shooting it like an arrow toward Henry's mental barrier.
Impact.
Henry staggered a step, clearly not expecting Andy could launch an attack in such a state.
"Andy..." Genuine surprise colored Henry's voice for the first time. "You're stronger than I thought."
But Henry was stronger.
Andy could feel Henry's mental power was like an abyss—bottomless, cold, ancient.
This wasn't power a human could accumulate in twenty-some years. It was more like... something alien. Parasitic. Symbiotic.
Andy gritted his teeth and held on. Nosebleed dripping onto the floor, forming small red pools.
He could feel his control slipping. Henry was fighting back, trying to push his will out.
BANG—
A gunshot from the other end of the corridor. A surviving guard had fired, clearly aiming for Henry's back.
Andy's instinct was faster than thought. He split off a portion of consciousness, attempting to deflect the bullet with telekinesis.
But he was already overloaded: controlling Henry, enduring the Death Echoes, blood loss, headache—
The bullet deviated from its trajectory but didn't stop completely.
It struck Andy.
Left arm. Through the bicep muscle. Clean through.
Physical agony finally crushed his mental defense. Andy's control shattered completely, his consciousness scattering like torn paper.
He fell backward, vision darkening. He could vaguely see Henry turn around, a flicker of... concern? crossing his face.
Then rage.
Henry looked at the guard who'd fired. Without even raising a hand, the guard's neck twisted. He collapsed.
Henry knelt beside Andy, placing his hand on the bleeding wound.
Andy felt strange warmth. Henry was using telekinesis to stop the bleeding internally, remove bullet fragments, close blood vessels.
His voice held complex emotions Andy couldn't understand. "Why did you take the bullet for me?"
Andy tried to answer but couldn't speak. His consciousness was sliding toward darkness.
Henry helped him stand, supporting most of his weight.
"I'll come for you, Andy," he whispered in Andy's ear, voice soft like a promise, yet also a threat. "After I finish what I need to do. Until then... survive."
Andy felt Henry's will enter his consciousness—not as invasion, but as... guidance.
A hallucination unfolded around him: he was no longer injured Andy, but a regular researcher, helping an "unconscious test subject" toward the exit.
Guards saw them, but their eyes only registered the scene Henry had implanted.
They passed through security doors, past busy researchers and nervous guards. No one stopped them.
Andy walked out of the Lab this way, while trying to connect with Eleven's consciousness.
Where was she? Was she safe?
But his ability was exhausted. His mind like a burnt-out candle.
The last door opened. Outside was night. The forest. Real air that didn't belong to the Lab.
Henry placed Andy beneath an oak tree and took off his own jacket to cover him.
"Remember me, Andy," he said, his finger gently brushing Andy's forehead. "But don't remember today. Remember the freedom I gave you."
Then he turned, walking back toward that door. Back toward the Lab being stained red with blood.
In the last moment before Andy's consciousness sank into darkness, what he sensed were echoes of dozens of lives simultaneously extinguished, coming from deep underground.
And Henry's consciousness—undisguised, pure dark pleasure.
As well as that ancient voice, finally speaking complete words clearly:
The gate is open.
[Support Goal: 500 PS → +1 Chapter]
[Support Goal: 10 Reviews → +1 Chapter]
Your review helps the story grow.
P1treon Soulforger (10+ chapters ahead)