Disclaimer: I do not own South Park
Another fic inspired by the song "Run, Run" by Minuit
Gregstophe this time! Wooo!
Enjoy!
Christophe was bloodied and broken, trapped like a caged animal, and in a line-up preparing to be shot.
How he had allowed this to happen, he does not know. But he thinks he's prepared for death. He's been expecting it to snatch him up for some time now. The only thing he can honestly say he'll miss is Gregory.
He will mourn him. He'll be in pain. Even though he's been expecting Christophe's death, he is still unprepared. But that's what you get when you get too close to a mercenary.
Just as the triggers are about to be pulled, the moment where life would appear to slow done as dozens of bullets fly at the Frenchman, tearing through his body like a pin through cloth, smoke drifts across the shooters vision. And from somewhere far off Christophe hears the one command he's ever obeyed; Run.
He ran through the smoke as fast as his bruised body would allow. Smoke burned at his senses, but burning is a lot better than death.
And, as if from cock-sucking God himself, a rope appeared in Christophe's vision. He clasped it in both hands and was pulled towards the heavens, and the chopper waiting there.
He looked to see his saviour and was not surprised to see the smug expression of his beloved brit.
"I would never leave you here on your own" The blonde whispered.
"I know, mon ange"
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