Hopper didn't know where he was, but if he had to venture a guess, he was somewhere in Russia considering that it was cold as hell and he only ever saw Russians and the food was hell.

At least he was alive. If you could call what he was doing 'living.' Being alone and imprisoned by people that he couldn't understand was maddening. Being left alone with his thoughts was the last thing he needed. He didn't know what had happened to El, what happened to Joyce, what if blowing up the machine had worked to close the gate. He didn't know any of it, and he assumed the worst, no matter how much he tried to be optimistic, his thoughts went to the worst. He couldn't even talk to the other prisoners because he didn't speak Russian.

Outside his door, there was a clamor between another one of the prisoners and what he assumed were Russian guards. There were yelling and scuffling before the voices faded away.

He didn't know what time it was. Time lost all meaning in his cell. He paced so much that he was wearing tracks into the concrete and the fact that his was the only voice he ever heard that he could understand drove him mad.

Because there was nothing else to do, he worked out a lot more than usual. Pushups, situps, lunges, even goddamn stretching. Anything to help with the pinching cabin fever.

It was a day like any other. If it was the day, at least, he couldn't tell anymore, but he was tired and decided to curl up in his cot. It wasn't comfortable, but it was all that he had.

He was about to nod off when, for the first time, he heard a new voice. A voice he could understand that wasn't his own.

The new voice asked, "American?"

Hopper opened his eyes with a jolt and found himself in a black void. There was a hand on his face, light as a feather, and only partially there. Like he was being touched by a ghost.

There was a face in front of him. It was a young girl, about thirteen or fourteen years old, with bright blue eyes and golden hair buzzed to be only about half an inch long.

"Am I...dreaming?" Hopper asked once he was able to find the words.

The girl grinned, revealing small white teeth behind her peach colored lips. "No. You're awake, and the American."

"Yeah...yeah, I'm an American. Who're you...and what do you want?" he grumbled, not entirely trusting the situation he found himself in.

"Run away," she said.

HIs face twisted with confusion. "You're telling me to run away, or you are a runaway?"

The girl shook her head, "No. I can't run away. Not alone. You can't run away alone. Together we have a chance, which is better than forever in this prison."

"Why should I trust you?" Hopper asked.

"American," the girl said, pointing at herself.

"Then how did you get here?" Hopper asked

Shrugging, the girl said, "I don't know. This place is all I know."

"What's your name, kid?" Hopper asked.

"It depends. If they don't know English, they call me Devyat. If they do speak English, they call me Nine," she answered.

"What does Devyat mean?"

"Nine," she answered.

After a moment of consideration, he said, "If you are I are busting out of here together I'm not calling you Nine," Hopper said.

Nine grinned at him and said, "We'll figure something else out."

"When is this happening?" Hopper asked.

"You'll know when," she said. "Stay ready."

Nine took her hand away, and the void was ripped away, leaving him back in his room, alone. Despite his mind telling him that he was going insane and having delusions, but there was a shred of hope inside him still. He just had to hold onto that.

Hopper is alive. Try and convince me otherwise...but you will fail. Don't take my hope from me. Also, if you've read my Stranger Things/It crossover story then you'll recognize Nine and probably see where this is going, but shh. Spoilers.