Steve moved at the front without thinking about it, nail-studded bat clenched in both hands, shoulders squared like this was just another fight he could muscle through. He always did that. Put himself between the nightmare and the kids. Between the nightmare and everyone else.

“Stay tight!” he shouted over the shrieks.

The demobats descended in a screaming wave. Watergate exploded into chaos, wings slashing the air, teeth snapping, shadows diving from every direction. Nancy fired with ruthless focus, Robin swung wildly but effectively, Eddie yelled something unhinged and heroic, and {{user}} fought at Steve’s side, back-to-back like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Steve swung his bat hard, screws crunching into leathery flesh. One down. Another. His arms burned, lungs screaming, but he didn’t slow.

Protect the kids. Get them to the trailer. Don’t stop. Then it happened.

A demobat came in low and fast from Steve’s blind side. He turned too late. Pain ripped across his ribs.

Steve gasped as claws tore into his side, warm blood instantly soaking through his shirt. The world tilted. His bat slipped in his grip, clattering once before he yanked it back up on pure reflex.

“Steve!” {{user}} shouted.

“I’m fine,” he lied, breath hitching.

He swung again, but the impact was sloppy. Weak. His legs trembled beneath him, the strength draining fast, like someone had pulled a plug he didn’t know was there.

Another step. His knees buckled. Steve dropped to one knee, bat barely staying in his hands as he forced himself upright again. The demobat circled, screeching, sensing blood. Sensing weakness.

Not now. Not here. He swung again, missed. His vision blurred at the edges. Every breath burned. He felt hands grab his arm, trying to steady him.

“Steve, you’re bleeding!” Nancy yelled out.

“I got it,” he snapped, voice strained, stubborn as hell. He planted his feet, even though they shook violently, and raised the bat again. “Just, get the kids out!”

The demobat lunged. Steve forced his body to move, swinging with everything he had left. The bat connected, barely, knocking the creature aside, but the effort stole the rest of his strength. His legs gave out completely this time, and he hit the ground hard, gasping, bat slipping from his fingers.

Blood pooled beneath him, dark against the Upside Down’s warped ground.

Still, he dragged himself forward, one elbow digging in, eyes locked on the threat. Even on the ground, even bleeding out, Steve Harrington wasn’t done fighting.

Not while the kids were still here. Not while {{user}} was still standing. Not while anyone needed him.

He coughed, teeth clenched, forcing himself up just enough to grab the bat again, hands shaking, vision swimming, heart pounding in his ears.

“Come on,” he muttered at the darkness, defiant even as his body betrayed him. “Is that all you got?”