chapter three

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Chapter Three: America


Lydia didn't sleep well that night. She didn't know why. But despite her cranky mood, she was looking forward to getting to the mall – to figure out more about the Russians, obviously.

Back in the Scoops staff room, Lydia was slouched in her favourite chair, idly twirling a red marker between her fingers. The others were discussing their options for getting into the Russian warehouse. Admittedly, Lydia had become slightly more invested in the pen than the actual conversation. 

"That keycard opens the door, but unfortunately, the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun," Dustin explained, pacing back and forth. "Whatever's in this room, whatever's in those boxes, they really don't want anybody finding it."

"But there's gotta be a way in," Robin said.

"Well, you know, I could just take him out," Steve suggested confidently. Lydia stopped twirling the marker and looked up.

"Take who out?" Robin asked mockingly.

She shared a look with Lydia, who bit back an amused smile. Steve Harrington take out a Russian guard? Yeah, right.

"The Russian guard," Steve clarified. He glanced briefly between the girls before his attention returned to Dustin, who was watching him doubtfully. "What? I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard. It's easy."

"Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?" Dustin asked.

Steve's eyes narrowed in frustration. "Yes, I did. And that's why I would be sneaking," he said, making a walking motion with his fingers on the table.

"Ah. Well, please, tell me this," Dustin continued. "And be honest. Have you ever actually won a fight?"

"Okay, that was one time–"

"Twice," Dustin corrected, holding up two fingers. "Jonathan. Year prior?"

"Listen, that doesn't count," Steve dismissed.

The corner of Lydia's mouth lifted into a smirk. It totally counted.

"Why wouldn't it?" Dustin challenged. "Because it looks like he beat the shit out of you."

Lydia turned to Robin, pointing at Dustin with the pen. "Can we keep him?"

"Yes."

"It was–"

"You got a fat lip, crooked nose, swollen eye, a lot of blood," Dustin reeled off.

"–things that all added up..." Steve trailed. His stare wandered back to Lydia, who cleared her throat. "Seriously, Dolan? Shut up."

She held her hands up in defence. "I didn't even say anything."

He motioned towards her, making a circle with his hand. "Your face is saying things."

"That just might work," Robin breathed out, catching their attention.

Lydia swivelled round in the chair, finding her best friend staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "Uh, what?"

"Robin?" Steve prompted.

Without acknowledging them, she crossed the room and entered the parlour. "Robin?" Lydia followed her to the counter, where she dug her hand into the tips jar and pulled out a wad of cash.

"Hey, Robin!" Steve called, but she continued to ignore him, heading out of the shop. "Hey, what are you doing?!"

Finally, Robin turned around, walking backwards so she could address them. "I need cash." 

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