WARNING: Rated M for Violence, Gore, Sexual Themes, Mature Language and Character Death.
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of its characters.
A/N: This is a prequel to my story "Trapped without a Voice". It takes place about 6 months before season 1. For anyone that is wondering, "Trapped without a Voice" will continue. I actually have ¾ of the second chapter done already. While I was writing the second chapter I felt that Kenny needed some more characterization so I was inspired to write this.
I'm really proud of this story/chapter and I hope you enjoy reading it!
"Damn, this is kickass," I mumble to myself under my orange hood. I plant my palms on the gas station shelf and boost myself up. With all my weight supported by my left hand, I swing for the price tag on the NASCAR T-shirt hanging on the adjacent rack. "15 dollars, dammit." My tattered boots hit the linoleum floor hard on my way down. That would have been so rad to wear when watching NASCAR with Dad. A muffled sign escapes my lips. "At least I have enough money to get a piece of candy for Karen." I thread the change in my pocket between my gloved-fingers, ignoring the newfound soreness in my left wrist.
"Hey, Kenny what's up?" someone asks from behind me. I recognize the voice right away. A covered smile appears on my face as I turn around to find Kyle next to me.
"Nothing much, on a late-night run with my family." I wasn't going to mention to Kyle that it was a late-night beer run. "What are you doing here?"
"My parents are getting some cupcakes to bring to Stan's house for dinner." Kyle answers unimpeded, being one of the few people that can perfectly understand my muffled voice. He gestures over at his parents, his mom holding Ike in one hand and a box of Kum & Go's famously enormous cupcakes in the other. It's always seemed a bit weird to me that the best cupcakes in South Park are from a gas station, but what isn't weird in South Park.
"Oh, that's cool," My smile withers behind the protective cover of my hood. "Say hi to Stan for me."
"Yeah, sure dude," Kyle grins. We stare at each other for a brief moment, an unease silence settling between us, until I sense Kyle shifting his body to leave. Before he can open his mouth to say goodbye, I perk up and force out a chuckle, "Hey Kyle, wanna see something funny?"
"Sure," Kyle shrugs and follows me to another shelf towards the back.
"Look", I giggle and point at the item, "I can't believe they sell that here."
Kyle stares up at the clear plastic package showcasing a pink oval. "What is it?" he asks, raising his eyebrow.
"It's a love egg. You know, the vibrating thing that adults put inside their pussies and assholes to make themselves cum," I explain with a stupid grin on my face.
"Sick dude!" Kyle briefly sticks out his tongue in disgust before we both share a laugh, the moment making my smile even wider.
"Hey dude…." As our laughter dies down Kyle takes a second to twist his head back and forth, "…where are your parents?"
"Wait what?" My mouth drops as I quickly survey the entire gas station. All I find are Kyle's family, Craig's dad, Wendy's mom and a few other people I don't know too well. "Are you fucking kidding me, they left me again!" I clench my fists; trying to compensate for the tightening around my chest, "Fuck, now I have to walk home."
"Wait, my parents can probably give you a ride home. I'll go ask," Kyle says.
But before Kyle takes a step we're both drawn to the obnoxiously-loud chime of the opening gas station door. Without missing a beat, my baby sister Karen pops her head into the entrance before tip-toeing inside. As we walk towards her, she sheepishly avoids eye contact with Kyle and focuses on looking up at me with her sweet baby-blue eyes. "Mommy and Daddy told me to tell you to 'get your fucking ass back in the truck.'"
My body tenses as the swears leave Karen's innocent lips. But instead of dwelling on my anger towards my alcoholic parents, I instead ask, "Did they actually realize I wasn't in the truck?"
"Sort-a. When I told them you weren't there, they told me to get you," Karen says.
"Sounds about right," I huff and shove my hands into my pockets.
Kum and Go's front entrance chime resonates throughout the small store yet again, but this time the gas station's shroud of monotony is slashed by an ear-piercing gunshot.
"Listen up fuckers! You know what this is! Everyone get down on the fucking floor or I'll fucking shoot!"
I catch a glimpse of a white man in an orange jumpsuit, holding a smoking gun up at the ceiling, before my instincts kick in. I snatch Kyle and Karen coats and dart behind a shelf, out of the gunman's line of sight. Without wasting a second, I peek over to make sure the man didn't spot us. I stare wide-eyed as he starts waving his gun from person to person like a fucking lunatic. The screeches and cries of the helpless South Park citizens intensify the thick tension in the air.
Once everyone is huddled on the ground the man staggers towards the check-out counter. As he demands all $200-something dollars in the register (and some fucking cupcakes) he can't keep his gun pointed at the quivering clerk. Instead, he continues to twitch and make large sporadic hand gestures, flailing his loaded gun around indiscriminately as he speaks. But in the middle of the madman's insults towards the "butt-fucking pussy" employee, an all-too-familiar whine just begins to register in my ears. I jerk my head back to see Karen trembling with tears threatening to burst into sobs. "Shhhhhh, you have to be quiet," I whisper and grasp her hand, squeezing it gently. "I promise it's going to be okay."
Karen sniffles a little before whispering, "You promise."
"Promise," I put on a brave face for my little sister. But when I turn towards Kyle and see the absolute terror reflected in his eyes, I can't stop my nervousness from showing through. It has to be okay. Everything always works out in the end, I reassure myself.
I part my dry lips to whisper something, but am suddenly interrupted by multiple blaring sirens. In that instant, every surface in the gas station is dowsed in red and blue lights. Shouts of protest echo from the parking lot as the police demand everyone outside to leave their families and clear the area. The feedback of a police megaphone then slices through the panicked chatter of the hostages and demands all of our attention.
"We know you're in their Sam! I brought back-up, so come out now with your hands up!" It's Officer Barbrady's voice booming from the megaphone, trying to sound as intimidating as he possibly can.
"How do you know I'm in here" Sam shouts back, making Kyle and I turn to each other with raised eyebrows.
"Because the cop car you stole is right here!" A female officer barks into the megaphone.
"And because you're talking to us right now, you idiot!" A third officer yells.
"Hey, don't make him angry or he'll be more likely to shoot someo…." Barbrady's voice carries through the open megaphone before abruptly cutting off.
With that, the frantic cries from the captive townsfolk returns with a vengeance.
Officer Barbrady clears this throat before hesitantly continuing over the terrified voices, "…Um…come out now Sam and we can end this peacefully." The megaphone briefly clicks off, before quickly clicking back to life. "Also, everyone ignore the last thing I said…I didn't know this thing was still on."
You've got to be fucking kidding me, I face-palm. Can this get any worse?
"I'm not going back to jail, you 'donut-hole fuckers'. You're going to give me a car and let me drive right out of here," Sam shouts.
"And why the fuck would we do that, you idiot!" the third cop sneers. The amplified scuffling noises from someone snatching back the megaphone echo from the parking lot. "Shut up!" Barbrady shouts without the mic.
There is a pregnant pause before the madman grins, "Because I'm taking a hostage with me." As soon as that threat leaves his blistered lips, gasps and hysterical pleads explode from the floor and fill the enclosed space. "Also, if you call me an idiot one more fucking time I'm going to fucking kill someone!"
My breath hinges as the feedback from the megaphone cuts through the panicked shrieks once again. But it quickly disappears followed by a unified "Shut up!" from the somewhat competent police officers outside.
Kyle's mom is the first to escape the collective voice of the crowd, "Please, don't hurt my baby!" Kyle's whole body violently jerks when Ike's cries erupt from behind us. I have to let go of Karen's hand and forcefully hold him down by his shoulders to stop him from leaping over the shelf. "You can't!" I hiss.
In the next second Craig's dad's loudly gasps, "Please, I have a family". That madman must be swinging his gun around at people again.
"Kyle, stop! It's not going to help anything if you get shot, or kidnapped!" Kyle struggles under me before flashing a pained stare, tears welling up in his eyes. Gradually, I feel Kyle's muscles relax beneath my hands until he finally stops fighting. But my heart grows heavy inside my chest when Karen begins tugging at my sleeve, not relenting until I hold her hand again. I catch Kyle lowering his defeated gaze as I reluctantly flaunt the one thing he desperately wants: his sibling.
"Please, I'll do anything!" someone else sobs from behind us.
I tilt my eyes up and let out a long sign. I know what I have to do, but it's going to fucking hurt like hell.
"Kyle, whatever happens promise me you'll protect Karen," I whisper.
"Wait, what? Where are you…" Kyle jolts his head up to meet my determined eyes.
"Promise me," I press.
"You just said…" Kyle hisses.
People's cries intensify behind us. "Hm, who should I pick?" Sam taunts.
"Promise me!" I almost scream.
Kyle's breathes become increasingly rapid and shallow. With an unsteady turn of his head he takes a moment to give a worried look down at Karen, Ike's cries still ringing in his ears. He starts to part his trembling lips before freezing mid-movement, seemingly shutting down. Before I can react, Kyle's posture suddenly softens, as if a switch had been flipped in his head. With a steady exhale Kyle turns back to me before grasping Karen's free hand. "I promise."
"No, don't take her!" someone begs.
I give Kyle a pat on the shoulder before lifting myself up from the floor. But my arm is suddenly tugged down hard, almost making me lose my balance. I peer down to see Karen staring up at me with tears silently streaming down her cheeks. She tightens her hold on my hand. "It's going to be okay, I promise." I squeeze her hand and wait for her to slowly loosen her grip, allowing my fingers to slip out of her grasp.
"Hey Sam, take me as your hostage," I demand as I side-step out from the cover and safety of the shelving unit; my open palms above my head. But I can't stop a gasp from escaping my lips as I see the madman, Sam, trying to yank Wendy's mom up by her short black hair. She kicks wildly as Sam presses his gun harder against her head.
The horrific scene in front of me freezes for a brief moment while everyone turns in my direction. I gulp as the unfamiliar pressure of multiple unwavering stares weighs down on my chest. Sam blankly glares at me, seemingly trying to restart his brain, before shoving Wendy's mom back down to the ground. With both his jittering hands Sam points his gun right at me. "Where the fuck did you come from? And what the fuck did you say you muffled motherfucker?"
Now it's my turn to stand there completely dumbstruck. My eyes bulge as sweat begins to bead under the insulation of my parka. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! I didn't take off my hood first! I can't believe I was stupid enough to not think about that! Fucking idiot!
I try to enunciate as clearly as my shaking voice will let me, "L-let me take off my hood so you can u-understand me." I very slowly begin to lower my arms, until a white-flash of sharp, excruciating pain explodes on top of me. The sound of a loud fire cracker ricochets against the glass walls of the gas station; almost drowning out the blood-curdling screams from me and the rest of the hostages. As my knees begin to buckle I knock over the T-shirt rack and catch myself on the shelf, causing there contains to spill all over the floor. Karen's shrieks briefly escape from behind me, before they are abruptly cut off. I shift my vision as it swirls in and out of focus to my left hand and fight the overwhelming urge to faint. All my fingers have been blown off, blood still squirting out of my severed arteries and pooling on top the green metal of the shelf.
"Was that a gunshot?" Barbrady's amplified ignorance sounds over the panicked crowd.
"No," Sam shouts. He quickly jerks his smoking gun out of the police's line of sight.
I take advantage of the opportunity and shove my hood down with my right hand.
"Fuck!" I yell on the top of my lungs. My clear high-pitched voice surprising everyone into silence, including myself.
Sam whips his gun up at me again. "I told you if you moved I'd shoot!"
"What, no you didn't" I shout between my gritted teeth.
"Yes I did!" Sam yells.
"No you didn't," a hostage echoes from the floor. Sam snaps his head down as the man jerks his gaze back to the ground.
"Wait…" Sam's scowl softens as he begins to scratch his head with his gun in thought. "Huh, actually I don't think I did."
I clench my remaining hand until it starts to throb. But with one uneven exhale, I quickly snatch the NASCAR T-shirt now lying in front of my feet. By the time the gun is pointing back at me I already have the once coveted shirt wrapped around my mangled hand. I groan as I begin to put pressure on the wound, not letting one single tear fall. I can't show him how weak I am. "Look, what I was trying to say before was… I want you to take me as your hostage."
"You're volunteering?" Sam raises an eyebrow.
"Don't you want someone that isn't going to fight back?" I shallow hard, trying to push down the nausea creeping up my throat.
Sam crosses his arms and starts tapping the floor, obviously not fully convinced.
"I promise I wouldn't give you any trouble. And besides, I think you owe me one." I raise what's left of my left hand, blood clearly soaking through the T-shirt and dripping down my arm.
"…But why?" Sam continues to question.
I stare down at all the vaguely familiar townsfolk, briefly locking eyes with several panicked, glossy stares before they shoot their heads back down. A few soft whimpers rise above the trembling captives as I witness them draw their loved ones' closer. I can't help clenching my crimson-drenched arm closer to my chest. It's then that something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. When I refocus my vison, my moist eyes widen as I see my ring finger lying in a pool of blood. I slowly lower my gaze to my crudely bandaged hand, focusing on the stabbing pain pulsating out my gaping wounds. My voice deepens as I glance back at the innocent men, women and children. "All that matters to me is that everyone else makes it out of here unharmed."
Sam purses his lips together as he narrows his eyes at me. Each tap of his foot makes my heart beat a little quicker. Come on dammit!
"Alright Hero, come on over here." Sam gestures me, with his gun in hand, to come towards him.
I quietly let out the breath I was holding. With a grunt, I shove aside my looming dizziness and push myself off the shelf. As I stumble forward, the hostages skootch out of my way, parting for me like the red sea.
"Move faster Hero!" Sam yells at me.
"Please don't call me that, I'm not a hero," I mutter under my breath while lowering my head. If only he knew how much immortality takes the fear out of dying. I'm not being brave. Not like Kyle, who was literally going to risk his life, his only life, to try to save his brother. No, I'm no hero. I'm a nobody; just perverted white trash whom no one really seems to care about.
"Don't fucking give me lip you bitch!" Sam snatches my arm. I gasp as he violently yanks me into his grasp, the blood-soaked T-shirt falling to the floor. The smell of ripe onions and vomit violates my nostrils as I'm pinned against Sam's sweaty, jittery body. His arm begins squeezing around my neck, putting me in a headlock to the point where my toes can barely touch the ground. My first twinge of pure visceral panic ripples through my body as I franticly pull at his arm with my good hand, trying to stop him from completely cutting off my windpipe.
"Hey, I thought you said you weren't going to fight!" The handle of the gun cracks down hard on my skull. A unified gasp echoes past the ringing in my ears. My body goes limp in my captor's unstable arms.
"Give me your car keys now or I'll take you instead of this stupid kid." Sam digs the barrel of his gun into my open head wound, making me yelp while my body jerks back to life (if only for a moment). "Take his keys, Mr. Her…, Mr. Zero." Sam laughs at his own stupid joke. I cringe as I feel my chest tighten around my racing heart, making it even harder to breath. The anxious jingling of metal amplifies the pounding in my head as Craig's Dad passes the keys from his trembling hand to my open palm.
Now with everything checked off his escape plan to-do-list, Sam starts staggering towards the entrance, dragging my dead weight right beside him. Between my sharp inhales I manage to flash Sam the direst look I can muster. But its edge is softened when blood begins to trickle over my eye.
Through my clouded vision, I somehow manage to look past Sam and get one last glimpse at Kyle and Karen. I watch as Kyle hugs Karen close to him, reluctantly covering her mouth to muffle her sobs. I briefly make connection with both of their tear-soaked eyes, before Kyle breaks away; tilting his head down. A ping pierces through my heart.
"I…. promise," I manage to mouth to Karen before Sam uses my head to slam the gas station door open. As soon as the door chimes behind us, all of the police officers swarm with guns at the ready.
"Let the boy who I've never seen before go!" Barbrady demands.
Sounds…about…right, I struggle to think as the thumping in my head grows stronger.
"If you try anything I'll shoot, I don't care if I kill a fucking kid!" Sam yells as he yanks me with him in the direction of the remaining cars; all of them on the other side of the parking lot. The barrels of the police officers' guns move in tandem with every step we take.
I succumb to the heaviness weighting down my eyelids only for a second, but gasp when I open them to find that we're already reached the gas station pumps. As Sam and I stumble underneath the flickering gas station canopy lights with police in tow, something becomes briefly illuminated out of the corner of my eye. My teeth clench as I fight to twist my throbbing head to the side and squint my hazy eyes. As if on cue, the lights hum back to life. Staring back at me is a blurred man dressed in all black, standing in the middle of the desolate parking lot. He flashes me a glowing-white grin before disappearing back into the darkness. Ice runs through my veins and sends chilling shockwaves down my limbs, freezing my bones into place. However, it takes me a moment to realize that Sam has also stopped in his tracks. We've finally reached the hostages' cars.
"SHIT! I didn't ask that cocksucker which fucking car is his! Hey Zero, go and see what car these keys fit in!"
Without warning, Sam shoves me hard against the back of a tan corolla. Due to either instinct or pure stupidity, I try catching myself with both hands. An agonizing scream rips out of my dry lips as blood from my severed fingers smears along the surface of the trunk and trails all the way down onto the icy unforgiving ground.
"Get the fuck up Zero!" With all the strength I have left, I try using my good hand to lift myself off the spinning asphalt. But in the blink of an eye the ground shifts from beneath me. I can't stop myself from falling flat on my pathetic face.
"You're completely worthless!" Sam screams at me. I can't stop myself from curling up into a ball. "Give me the keys, I'll do it myself!" I witness a fuzzy figure lumbering towards my powerless body, growing more out of focus with each menacing step.
"Did…already kill…?" I'm only able to catch fragments of what the officer is saying.
"…concussioned…. taking…awake or not…can't shoot me." Sam growls.
I…I'm sorry…Sam, I struggle to think as I feel my consciousness slipping, c-can't…ha-ve you…e-escape… and… hurt anyone… e-else.
"H-Hey Sa…Sam." I peer up at the looming figure now towering over me, pointing something at my head. "Ya-Ya…You're…a…n…idiot!"
BANG.
Metal tears through my brain, shredding vital neural networks along its destructive path. I don't feel any pain until the object thrusts itself through the back of my skull. In that moment, searing electricity radiates out from my exit wound and burns the rest of my neuropathways. Pure terror seizes my heart as hot blood pours out of my screaming mouth. The last thing I hear are gun shots before everything goes black.
In the dark void, all is still, all is quiet, all is nothing. I am there, and yet, I am not there. All I know for certain is, I'm at peace.
From deep within the utter-emptiness of the abyss comes a soft hum. The sound draws closer, gradually becoming distinguishable as human voices, but speaking words I don't understand. Eventually, the nonsensical chanting booms inside the limitless space, deafening me. I want to scream, but I no longer know how. Then suddenly, the voices are tightening around me, forcing me to regain feeling back in my limbs. The voices are tugging at my legs, dragging me away from this blissful sanctuary. Sto…NO!
My eyes snap open as my breath hinges. Posed in the middle of the wooden sky is the moon, rapidly being covered by a pitch-black orb at an unnaturally fast-speed. When the last sliver of the moon's glow is swallowed by the darkness, beams of light flash against the wooden sky before raining down on me. Time stops. But the unintelligible voices continue to swarm around me. I open my mouth to speak, but only cries come out. All of the sudden my head is turned to the side. That's when I see her, the stone statue of a young woman on top the water. A shawl hanging from her head and arms, hands outstretched towards me. Her glowing ruby eyes tearing deep into my soul.
I spring up from my stiff bed and clutch my chest, hyperventilating in a pool of my own sweat. But as the familiar sights of my moon-lite bedroom filters through my panic-stricken eyes, I begin to loosen the grip on my parka. I rest my head on my knees. My breath begins to slow as I focus on the pounding of my heart against my thighs.
"I fucking hate that nightmare." I mutter under my hood. Nightmare, memory, vision, hallucination; I don't really know what it is. All I know is that it sometimes appears to me after I die, more frequently now than when I was a little kid. I sneak a peek at all the library books piled on my nightstand: from "The Book of Han" to "Immortality of the Gods: Legends, Mysteries, and the Alien Connection to Eternal Life". I let out a long-defeated sign and bury my face back into my sheets. I must be worthless, because after all this research I still can't figure out what any of it means and how it connects to my immortality, if it does at all.
I'm snapped out of my train of thought by a knock at my door. "Kenny, are you awake?"
A wave of relief washes over me. "Come i…" Before I can finish my sentence the door swings open and Karen comes running in, leaping at me with her arms outstretched.
"I'm so happy you're okay!" She squeezes my rigid body with all her tiny might. I tilt my head down and am met with a loving smile and tears of joy welling up in her eyes.
"I was going to say the same thing." I wrap my arms around her and take in a long-satisfied breath; allowing the warmth that's radiating from inside my chest to melt my stiff posture and finally relax my tired muscles.
"I-I was so scared. I thought that man was going to ki…hurt all of us, but you stopped him." She nuzzles into my chest and closes her eyes, "You're my hero."
The echo of faint sniffling begins to hover above our heads. But it's only until I notice something warm streaming down my cheeks that it hits me; I'm the one who's crying. I squeeze Karen tight and rest my head on top of hers, allowing my tears to fall.
A/N: I worked very hard on this story/chapter so if you could leave a brief comment letting me know if you liked/disliked it (and/or what you liked/disliked about it) or some constructive criticism that would be extremely appreciated! I really want to get better and I believe feedback is the best way to help someone improve. If you decide to R&R or not, I just want to say thank you to everyone for reading!