Flip

by lizoftheinfinite

Monsters from an alternate dimension capture Craig in order to invoke an ancient Incan prophecy. He and Kenny are forced to work together in order to stop them. M for graphic violence, some sexual content, and language. Mild slash.

This fic is a present for apatur4iris on deviantart, as a thank-you for drawing my fic Consequences to the Grave all that lovely fanart.

I need to stop hiding my stories behind fancy labels like 'horror' and 'adventure' and 'supernatural' and admit they're straight-up gore fests.

---

Music:

"I Don't Wanna Die" (Hollywood Undead)

"Animus Vox" (The Glitch Mob)

"Love Me Dead" (Ludo)

---

"I have a favor to ask of you."

Craig blinks and immediately goes on the hostile, because he hasn't spoken to the scruffy stoner Kenny McCormick in years. His favors are something to be earned, not asked for.

He decides a favor from any of Stan's gang would only result in something stupid, so he flips Kenny off as he walks by him and keeps on his way down the street.

He expects Kenny to shrug and leave.

Instead, he feels a tug on his arm. Kenny has him by the sleeve of his jacket and is pulling him back to face him.

Craig's temperament switches from hostile to outright pissed-off.

"What the fuck do you want, McCormick?" he snaps, wrenching his arm free from Kenny's grasp with a bit more force than necessary.

Kenny smiles. It's a perfectly ordinary expression, and it's not like he's never happy. Craig sees him around school all the time; laughing with his friends, messing with teachers, hitting on anything with a heartbeat. It's not like he never grins or anything around school, because he does.

So why does it look so freaking creepy?

Maybe it's because he's pulled his parka hood off his head, so Craig can actually see the expression. Maybe that's it.

Perfectly normal.

Yeah, right.

"I just need your help with something. It'll take like ten minutes. Come on."

"What is it?"

"I'm pulling a prank on Cartman for being such a dick. I just need to record you saying something to a mirror, that's all."

"Cartman's always a dick."

"He went too far this time." Kenny smiles again. His gaze locks with Craig's.

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll give you some money," Kenny volunteers.

Craig's inner bullshit alarm goes off.

"Yeah. No. Find someone else." He turns around and starts off in the opposite direction, even though he was walking from school and his backpack is starting to way him down. He'll take the long way home, it doesn't matter, anything to avoid doing Kenny a favor.

"Guess you don't care what he said to your sister, then."

Craig whirls, fists clenched, eyebrows narrowed. "What'd he say?"

"This afternoon. He told her she was a fat ho. She went home crying."

Oh, god. They just convinced her to start eating again. Now she'll be skipping meals and working out constantly and staring at herself in the mirror-

There are three things in this world Craig Tucker cares about. One, his guinea pig, Stripes. Two, the TV show Red Racer. Three, his family.

No one fucks with Craig Tucker's family.

"Where's Cartman? I'm going to beat the shit out of him."

"No, he's got some other kids protecting him like the weak pussy he is. We have to pull this prank on him. Come on."

He's torn between going home and comforting Ruby, and staying and helping Kenny.

"Your parents will look after your sister." Kenny smiles again, offering something with the expression on his lips.

"All right. But this better be fucking good, McCormick."

---

Kenny leads him to a tiny shack in the middle of the woods. They have to push their way past pine trees and Craig only narrowly avoids tripping over a clump of roots. His boots sneak down into the snow with every footstep. By the time they arrive at the shack, he's shivering. He hugs himself for warmth as Kenny leads him inside.

The first room is pretty typical: tiny kitchen, a folding table, a couple of chairs. The only source of light is a dingy light bulb swinging above their heads. It smells like mold and musk and sweat. He wrinkles his nose and keeps his arms crossed. Kenny opens the door into the next room.

This room is even darker than the last. The single light bulb sputters, and dust coats its glass surface. Rats squeal and scurry away upon their entrance. The wooden slats underneath their shoes creak with every step. And right in front of them is a huge mirror.

Craig takes a few seconds to inspect the mirror. It's taller and wider than him. Its ancient gold frame shines in the dull light. His reflection showcases a bedraggled boy with a too-heavy backpack and a chullo cap. He drops his backpack on the floor. In the corner of the room is a large crate, covered with a sheet.

"How is this pranking Cartman?"

Kenny follows him into the room. The hinges whine as he shuts the door behind him.

"You'll see. It'll be sweet. Just say, 'veni et surgere, renascentia.'"

Craig repeats it back to him. "What's that mean?"

"It's Latin. And don't say it like that. Put your hand on the mirror and say it."

Kenny stands with his back against the door, his arms crossed, his lips stretched in that same smile.

"I should really be getting home to my sister."

"Come on, dude, you've already come this far. Just say it."

"How is this pranking Cartman?"

"Just do it."

"You're bullshitting. Something's going on. I don't like it and I don't want to know what it is. I'm going home."

He expects Kenny to move aside and let him leave. Instead, Kenny just chuckles. It's a low sound, a guttural sound, a sound he didn't know a person could make.

"What the fuck?"

"I was hoping you would make this easier. I thought you liked to make things easier."

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you, McCormick, but-"

"That's not me," Kenny's voice rasps. "It's an imposter."

Craig whirls.

"Over here."

Kenny's voice echoes out from the crate in the corner of the room.

Craig runs over to the crate and yanks off the sheet. Light shines on the crate underneath . . . which is actually a cage. A heavy lock has been fastened onto the latch, one of the kinds requiring a key.

And inside, Kenny McCormick is grasping at the bars.

He's shirtless, naked from the waist up. Scratches and bruises mar his body. One of his eyes is purpled and sealed shut. The other blinks as blue and as bright as ever.

"What. The. Fuck."

"Get out of here!" Kenny yells.

Craig turns again, his back pressing against the bars of the cage. The first Kenny, the one wearing a parka and a sick smile, starts to walk towards him.

"Oh, dear," the first Kenny says. "The sedative was supposed to keep him down for eight hours, not six. Now I'll have to do something drastic."

"You're not Kenny," Craig says.

"No shit, Sherlock. Now. Put your hand on the mirror and say the words, or I'm going to have to make you."

"No fucking way."

Not-Kenny pulls a handgun from his parka and points it towards Craig. "Let me rephrase it. Put your hand on the fucking mirror or you will die."

The blood pounds through Craig's ears. Adrenaline sears through his veins. His vision narrows down to focus on the barrel of the gun in front of him. He swallows hard.

He's pretty sure if Not-Kenny's willing to shoot him to get him to do what he wants, then whatever he wants must be pretty fucking bad.

"Don't do it!" Kenny yells from behind him, his voice a strained rasp.

"If you kill me," Craig says, "then I definitely won't be able to say anything."

"Hmm. True." Not-Kenny raises the gun and rushes him. Craig tenses to parry his blow, but Not-Kenny moves faster than anyone he's ever thought. Before he can react, Not-Kenny smashes the gun onto his head.

He barely registers his body hitting the floor. The pain explodes through his head, blocking out his senses and turning his world into a haze. When he can see again, his mouth tastes like copper and his back is against the wall. Not-Kenny stands over him.

"We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. Your decision."

Craig's first instinct is to accept the easy way, but for all he knows, saying those words with his hand on the mirror will result in the world ending.

"No freaking-"

Not-Kenny kicks him.

"Don't do it!" Kenny yells. "No matter what, don't do it!"

"What else am I supposed to do?" he groans back.

"I suggest you listen to the one who's beating the shit out of you." Not-Kenny aims a violent jab at his ribs.

The blows keep coming down. He gives up on fighting back and tries to curl into a ball. Then Not-Kenny kicks his arms and legs until he unfolds. The imposter pushes him down onto his back and straddles him, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand.

Kenny's screaming something, but Craig can't comprehend anything except the roaring in his ears. Eventually he makes out Not-Kenny's words.

"-going to do as I fucking tell you or you will be in for a world of hurt, you got that? Think I've giving you some scratches? Trust me, those will be nothing to what I'll do to you if you don't figure your shit out and do what I fucking say-"

Craig spits up into his face. Not-Kenny wipes the saliva away with his free hand, then punches Craig in the mouth.

The pain blinds him again for a few seconds. He closes his eyes even when he can see again. His breath comes in shallow pants.

"Aren't you a defiant one. I like that, it's fun. Usually I'd play around with you. But I'm actually on a schedule today, so I need to see some results." Not-Kenny grabs him by his hair and drags his head back so his jaw tilts into the air. Craig can't keep himself from crying out.

"You're not alone in this world. I can go after your family. I can go after that little bitch of a sister."

"Fuck you!"

Craig tries to knee him in between his legs, but Not-Kenny grabs his thigh before he can get anywhere.

He climbs off him and stands above him, his arms crossed. Craig peers up at him through the blood in his eyes. It feels like his entire body is one solid lump of pain. It hurts to breath, to blink, to speak. He ignores the pain. A volley of curses spew from his mouth.

Not-Kenny doesn't react. He lets Craig swear at him for a few seconds, then says, "On your stomach."

"What-"

"I said get on your fucking stomach!"

The imposter kicks him until he rolls over. The panic starts to pick up again. He reaches out to grab at something, anything. Not-Kenny steps on his fingers. A bone crunches. Another scream escapes him. The nausea rolls through him in waves.

"Get . . .the fuck . . . away . . ." he mumbles out, but the words sound weak even to his ears.

"This is going to hurt regardless," Not Kenny says from over him. "Unless you're into pain, I suggest you try and hold still and not struggle. It might hurt less that way."

"What the fuck are you-"

Not-Kenny kicks him and he shuts up.

"Let him go! Let him go! You're here, you don't need anyone else, let him go!" the real Kenny is yelling. Words. Meaningless words. Craig tunes him out and focuses on keeping conscious.

The Not-Kenny undoes Craig's belt and drags his jeans and boxers down past his knees without ceremony. Craig's skin crawls at the feel of the imposter's fingers on his skin. He hears the distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled down.

"Wait," he starts. "Wait. I'll do it. I'll do it-"

"Too late," Not-Kenny sneers. He pushes Craig against the ground and grabs Craig's hips, pulling them up.

Agony pierces Craig, traveling up his spine to sear his body. Everything's on fire. Everything except his heart. He feels numb inside, numb and frozen. His mind can't comprehend this. It can't. It can't be happening.

Every thrust from Not-Kenny makes his body rock. He doesn't try to fight. He doesn't have the energy to escape. He just stares down the wooden floor below him. Some unhelpful part of his mind is screaming, but the rest of him tries to focus on the pain and nothing else.

Then Not-Kenny's voice pierces through the fog. "Aw, you're crying."

He's not. He's not. He's not. He can't be.

He feels water sliding down his cheeks.

I can't be crying. I'm not crying.

He can't breathe, he can't breathe he's so scared, he-

He screams. It comes out high-pitched and shrieking, like a little kid. His hands scrabble for purchase and find a pipe sticking out of the wall. Try as he might, he can't wrench the pipe free. So he just holds onto it, ignoring the pain as his broken fingers curl around the metal.

"Get . . . get off of me." He hates how weak he sounds.

"Why would I do that whenever I'm having so much fun?" Not-Kenny purrs down at him.

Craig chokes on a sob. A sob. He doesn't know the last time he cried.

And, eventually, his mind goes blank. He lets himself hide in the emptiness. He's dimly aware of the thrusting, of the Not-Kenny groaning and something liquid filling him, but he ignores it. He lets himself fade away.

When he's jerked out of his quiet place in his mind, he's being held against the wall with a hand around his neck. His pants and boxers are still around his knees. He stares down at Not-Kenny, and Not-Kenny sneers back up.

"Now are you going to do it?" Not-Kenny half-hisses out the words.

"Don't!" Kenny chokes out. "Oh, god, Craig, don't do what he tells you to!"

"Your little sister is just as pretty as you," Not-Kenny says. "I bet she'd be just as much fun to play with."

Something burns inside Craig.

"Yes," he croaks. His voice sounds ancient and disused, far from its usual monotone. "Yes."

"Good."

Not-Kenny deposits Craig in front of the mirror. He manages to get to his knees. When he reaches out, a stab of pain travels up through his body but he manages to make his arm extend all the way.

His fingers hit the glass, then slide through it. Reflection-Craig mirrors real-Craig. Surprise flickers over both their faces.

"Fucking say it already."

Kenny is screaming no, but Craig is way past caring.

"Veni et surgere . . . " The words come out slow and halting, each one a labor in its own right.

" . . . renascentia . . ."

The word explodes with light.

---

Kenny tries to cry out, but his throat is hoarse and only a whisper emits from him. His gaze is glued to the scene unfolding in front of him, like watching a fucking train wreck.

And all he can think is, oh, God, not another one.

The light filters out through the mirror. Craig crawls away until his back hits the door. Revvie, the oh-so-clever nickname Kenny came up with for his Reflection, steps back and shades his eyes with the same smirk on his lips.

The hands stretch out from the mirror. The light starts to pulse. Then a wounded, bedraggled boy with tear streaks and a blue chullo hat steps through the glass and into the tiny room.

Craig's reflection takes in the surroundings for a few seconds. The light starts to fade away until they're left in the dingy haze.

"Dude! Congrats!" Revvie raises his hand and they fist-bump.

"I got through," Craig's reflection says, half in-disbelief. "Thanks, man. I didn't think I'd ever be that lucky." He has the same nasally voice as Craig.

"What can I say, I need you." Revvie elbows him, grinning.

"Couldn't you have done it without beating the shit out of him, though? Ugh."

"Eh, it was more fun that way."

"Sadistic bastard," Craig's reflection says, chuckling. Then his body starts to shift. The colors swirl, fast and wild enough to make Kenny blink. After a few seconds, he's perfectly healed, looking more like Craig Tucker than the bruised, beaten, shivering thing on the floor.

"Now I'll kill the human and we'll be on our way."

Revvie picks up his abandoned gun from the corner where it lay, forgotten. He pulls the safety off and points it between Craig's eyes.

"Wait!" Kenny screams. They both turn to look at him. Craig remains curled up, in shock.

"You can't kill him."

"Why not?"

"You want him because of the prophecies, right? If you shoot him they'll never be fulfilled."

"That's why I got his reflection," Revvie points out.

"You don't know if that will work. You're exactly the same, except opposite, so different enough. You don't know if that's too different for the prophecies."

Revvie curses. Craig's reflection rolls his eyes.

"He's right," Revvie says. "What was the point of summoning you, then?"

"For companionship?" Craig's reflection suggests.

Revvie snorts. "You get to be the muscle. Stick your human in the cage with my human."

Craig's reflection rolls his eyes and flips Revvie off, but he does as he asks and lifts up Craig. Craig just hangs in his arms, limp. Revvie pulls the key out from his pocket.

"If you run for it," Revvie says, "I'll shoot you in the kneecap. I can't kill you but I can definitely make your life painful."

Kenny glowers but doesn't try to pull anything. He scoots back up against the bars so they can jam Craig inside. There's not enough room in the cage, and Craig gives a little whine of protest when Kenny's knee accidentally bumps against his ribs.

Revvie locks the door and claps Craig's reflection on the shoulder. "Let's go talk about our travel plans!" he says, and the two of them exit the room, turning off the light and slamming the door behind them.

---

For a minute, the two of them sit in the blackness. The rats start to scurry out from their hideaways. The slivers of light from under the door illuminate their beady little eyes. Kenny swats one away when it comes too close to the cage (the bars are spread far enough for him to fit his hands through) but the vermin keep churning around Craig, twittering and eyeing his wounds.

He can barely make out Craig through the darkness, but the other teen's heavy pants for air make Kenny worry.

"You awake?" Kenny breathes out after almost a minute.

Craig makes a small sound in confirmation.

"I – I'm going to help you get your pants on, okay?"

Craig doesn't argue one way or another, so Kenny reaches over and grasps at his jeans. Craig hisses in pain as he drags the cloth up his battered legs, but he mutters 'thank you' when Kenny does up his belt again.

Craig half-sits so he's leaning against the bars. Kenny's stomach clenches when he sees the full extent of the damage. The other boy's face is a swelling mass of purple.

"Should've just done what he said," Craig mutters. "I ended up doing as he asked anyways."

"I'm sorry," Kenny says. "He told me he would kill you once he was done. I just knew he couldn't kill you as long as you didn't let your reflection through the mirror. I thought you could escape or something. I'm sorry."

Craig's gaze latches with his. "S'not your fault," he mutters. Then, "Or is it? What the fuck is going on, McCormick?"

Kenny swallows hard.

"Three days ago I was looked for a place to get high because my parents were home and it was too freaking cold to do it outside and none of my friends wanted a joint. I went out here and found this shack. The mirror had a sheet on it. I found a book that had a bunch of different incantations, one of them summoning your reflections."

"And you did it-"

"And then I got stoned out of my mind and thought it would be funny and I said that spell and he came out. I call him Revvie. Because he's my reverse. You know? Anyway, he killed me and I woke up in my bed, and I realized he was out there so I grabbed a pickaxe and went after him and then he killed me again and I woke up in my bed again and I called the police and they went after him and he hid and then he came back and put me in this cage because he realized he couldn't keep killing me."

Craig closes his eyes. He's missing several teeth.

"What do they want?"

"Remember the prophecies in Peru?"

Craig groans.

"Fuck."

"Yeah. I don't know much about them, but apparently it's something to do with that."

"Fuck. I fucking hate prophecies." He spits out a broken tooth. "Feel like shit," he mumbles.

"Yeah."

They sit across each other, their feet next to each other's hips.

"I'm sorry," Kenny tries again lamely.

"This is all your fault."

"Yeah."

"Because you're a fucking stoner who couldn't resist getting high for five seconds. You just had to fuck around with ancient magic or shit and completely fuck up my life."

"Yeah."

"It's your fault this fucking happened to me." Craig clenches his fists, trembling. Then he winces and unfolds his hand. Kenny remembers his broken fingers.

His cheeks are wet.

"Are you-"

"Shut up! I'm not! Just shut up about it, okay?" He wipes his face with his grubby blue sweatshirt. "Just shut up and let me . . . let me fucking think. Just shut up. Just shut up."

He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his face in his arms.

Kenny waits for a minute, his mouth dry. He hears dim voices in the other room. Their reflections are talking, probably planning to take over the world or something.

Then he reaches out and gently grabs Craig's jacket.

"I want to see if your ribs are swelling."

Craig's silent for a second. Then he nods and lifts his head up.

"Okay."

When he strips off his shirt and jacket, Kenny can't help but wince at the sight. Bruises dot his flesh. Kenny's been banged up pretty badly over the course of the last three days, but he's escaped most of Revvie's beatings with minors scratching. Craig's skin has acquired a liking for purple.

"I don't think any of them are cracked, which is good," Kenny mutters, prodding at Craig's skin. "Just bruised. Really, really bruised, I think-"

Craig flinches away.

"Hurt?"

"Like a motherfucker," he hisses out, but there's something else in his eyes. Fear.

Kenny realizes exactly who he looks like.

"I'm sorry," he mutters again, for the millionth time in the conversation. "I'm sorry, but we're stuck in here with each other."

He retreats back to his corner of the cage; although they're still brushing legs, at least he's not leaning over Craig anymore. He busies himself with ripping up Craig's t-shirt.

"Here." He hands a strip of fabric to him. Craig presses it against a cut on his forehead, which bleeds sluggishly.

"Fingers really hurt," Craig says. He holds up his wounded hand. Kenny peers to make it out through the light.

"I'll . . . " He hesitates.

"Go ahead, McCormick."

Kenny takes Craig's hand. It's calloused, quite a bit larger than his, and tan, even though it's late in winter. Kenny's own hands shake as he wraps the cloth around Craig's broken fingers, binding them into place. Craig stays still and solid, even as he half-shies away from Kenny.

"Thanks," he mumbles out again.

"Yeah." Kenny sits back against his side of the cage. His heart is beating way too fast, with fear and leftover adrenaline.

"I'm sorry."

"Would you stop fucking saying that?" Craig snaps. "I get it, I get it, it's all your fucking fault! Now all I want to know is how to get out of here!"

Kenny grits his teeth. "I've tried everything I can to get out of this cage. But even if we do get out, we still have to get through Revvie and your reflection."

"So you saying we should give up and let them take over the world?"

"No!" He clenches his fists. "I'm saying you should kill me."

Craig raises his eyebrows. "What the fuck."

"Revvie locked me in here without any way of doing it. I tried knocking my head against the cage a bunch of times, but I just passed out and came to a couple hours later. If you kill me, I'll wake up in my bed and I'll be able to get Stan and them to help us before Revvie even figures out I'm gone."

"I can't kill you." Craig narrows his eyes. "I've never killed anyone before."

"That guy in Peru, remember?"

"Those were frickin laser beams shooting out of my eyes. All I have to kill you with are my hands."

"So do it," Kenny says quietly.

Craig raises his hands. Kenny shivers as they wrap around his neck; loose enough for him to breath easily. Craig stares into his eyes. They both pant hard. Craig's breath smells like blood.

"I can't do that," Craig says.

"I'll be perfectly fine. I'll wake up in like two hours."

"I know. I just can't, okay? I'm not a murdering asshole."

"Craig, you fucking have to! We can't let these reflections guys get us down to Peru! And they'll probably kill you as soon as they have the chance."

"I know! But I can't do it!"

Kenny swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against Craig's palms.

"Pretend I'm Revvie," he says. "Pretend I'm my reflection. Pretend I'm the guy who just beat the shit out of you, who just fucked you against the floor like you're a whiny fag, a cumslut whore who was just asking for it-"

Craig lets out a roar of anger. Kenny feels the hands on his neck start to tighten. He resists the automatic instinct to fight back, even as pure panic shoots down his spine. His vision starts to spot.

Then Craig drops his hands and leans against the cage. Blatant tears dribble over his cheeks.

"You're an asshole, you know that, McCormick?" he mutters.

Kenny's silence is all the confirmation either of them need.

"I can't do it," Craig says. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to be left alone. I don't want to get involved in this reflection shit. I didn't want to be r-raped. I just want to go home and watch Red Racer and be left alone."

He pleads at Kenny with his watery eyes. Kenny wishes he could say yes, yes, let's just have this all magically be okay, let's go home. But he can't. They're stuck here and now they have to fight their way out.

Gently, he reaches out and pulls Craig's hands against his neck. Craig turns his head and refuses to look at him, even when Kenny arranges Craig's fingers around his throat, careful for the broken digits.

"Please," he says.

And Craig, still looking away, begins to squeeze.

---

Kenny wakes up gasping.

The sheets fall around his legs. He's wearing his orange parka again. His bruises are gone. His hair is a sweaty mess in his eyes. The cold blows right through the cardboard walls of their house, freezing his insides. He hugs the sheets up against his body and blinks.

Then he remembers, and it's more than just a bad dream, it's reality.

He jumps out of bed, yanks on his shoes, and runs out of the house. His parents are passed-out on the couch, sleeping off an alcohol binge, and as such don't have the chance to quiz him on where he's been, Just as well. They don't actually care and he has nothing but lies to feed them.

The snow patters out on his head and coats his shoulders once he's outside. He guesses it's maybe one, maybe two in the morning (that's when he usually wakes up after he dies). He starts up a steady jog, almost slipping twice in the snow. His muscles burn from exertion. It occurs to him as he runs that he left Craig sitting next to his cooling body for an unspecified couple of hours, and the reflections are such assholes they'll probably leave him with Kenny's corpse even after they discover Kenny's escape.

He runs until he comes across a payphone. He has to calm himself down before he manages to jam quarters into the machine. Stan picks up after the fifth ring.

"What the fuck?" Stan mumbles out.

"Dude. Not much time. Just believe whatever I say, okay? This is a matter of fucking life or death. I'm not joking, I'm fucking serious."

"I'm listening." Stan sounds more awake.

"You know how I've been missing for a couple of days? Of course you don't know. Look, I accidentally summoned a couple of beings from an alternate dimension behind a mirror, like, our evil reflections, and they've got Craig too, and I think they're going to use the prophecies in Peru to take over the world. They're linked to Craig. They really wanted Craig. They're keeping us in a shack out in the woods somewhere."

"I've got Kyle on conference call."

It speaks miles about how fucked up their world is that his explanation doesn't even faze Stan.

"Ken? You okay? Is Craig okay?" Kyle's voice filters through the phone.

"No. We're not okay. And I think I'm going to get caught soon-" He takes the opportunity to glance around the street. Empty. "So just listen, okay? Stan, I need you to warn the police. Tell them to fuck up the airports. See if you can get them to listen. Make up a bomb threat or something if you have to. Kyle, do some research. See if you can figure out how to stop the reflections. We summoned them using –" He repeats the latin chant to Kyle. "And they're linked to Peru, somehow. Is that enough to figure something out?

"Y-yeah, I think so, dude."

"Good. Also, they might come after you. So if you see me or Craig, run immediately. Or if Kyle figures out how to kill them, do that. They sound and look exactly like us, remember that."

"You going to be okay?" Stan chimes in.

"Probably not. But I'm like a cockroach. Nothing can kill me, remember?"

"Be careful."

"I promise. I've gotta get going before they figure out I've escaped."

He hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath. His adrenaline levels make him jumpy and twitchy. He scans the moonlit street again, then steps onto the road. Cars have flattened the snow down to slushy goop. Puddles of water have long since frozen into ice.

Kenny's shoes slip on a particularly slick patch of ice. He topples to the ground, landing on his hands and knees. He grits down his cry.

He finds himself staring down at his reflection below. Reflection-Kenny's own expression is contorted in pain. Then his reflection smirks.

"Fuck!"

He jerks back, but it's too late. Revvie bursts from the ice and into the street. He grabs Kenny by the throat and holds him into the air, far stronger than a normal human.

"You thought you were being so fucking clever, didn't you? But I was watching you. Who'd you call?"

Kenny can't speak. His vision starts to blur. He really hopes Revvie ends up killing him again.

Revvie snorts and drops him to the ground. His booted foot comes down on Kenny's stomach. "Who the fuck did you call, human?"

"Stan and Kyle."

"What'd you tell them?"

Kenny grits his teeth.

"What. Did. You. Tell. Them."

"That I'd summoned a monster from an alternate dimension," he says. "That's it, I swear. No addresses or anything."

"Is that it?"

Kenny nods, swallowing hard.

Revvie shakes his head, sneering down at Kenny. "In a way it's a good thing you kicked the bucket for a couple hours. I got to have fun torturing your little plans out of that Craig kid. Of course, he gave them up immediately, but I still got to play with him for daring to go behind our backs. Damn that Tucker kid has fine ass."

"Monster." Kenny tries to struggle to his feet but the reflection just kicks him down again.

"Don't you see, McCormick?" Revvie says, kneeling down, getting into his face, his voice soft. "I'm the exact same as you. Some parts of me are just flipped. So I want you to know that every 'monstrous' thing I do is well within your capabilities as a human being."

He stamps down on Kenny's stomach. While Kenny's fighting for air, he stalks over to the telephone booth and punches in a number.

"Hey, uh, Stan? Sorry about that call. I was stoned out of my fucking mind and imagining some weird shit. Forget what I said, okay?"

He hangs up and comes over to kneel down next to Kenny again.

"Now, are you going to come up with any more pathetic escape attempts?" he purrs, grabbing Kenny and pulling him up by the collar, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Kenny coughs and manages to glare back at him.

"You bet your ass I will."

Revvie sneers back at him then punches him in the gut.

---

When he wakes up again, he's back in the cage with Craig. The other teen is staring off into space and doesn't look down or notice Kenny for several seconds. He feels motion under his body. Everything is dark again.

"We're on a plane?"

"Yeah." Craig still doesn't look down at him.

Kenny coughs and manages to sit up. "Guess Stan didn't manage to shut down the airport."

"He did. Most of the ones in Colorado, anyway. We had to drive for like eight hours. They were fucking pissed. You've been out for most of the day." It sounds like Craig's smirking, though Kenny can only make out the shape of his head in the darkness. "They stole a fucking airplane."

Kenny blinks. "So we're going to Peru."

"We're going to Peru."

"We're fucked."

"Yup."

Craig stays rigid and hasn't yet met Kenny's eyes. Kenny remembers some of what Revvie said before.

Did he do it again? he wants to ask. Did the bastard I called into this world touch you again?

He doesn't ask.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you out."

"Would you shut up with the fucking apologies already?" Craig snaps. "I never want you to apologize to me again."

Through the silhouette, he sees that Craig's middle finger is up.

He smiles a little bit. "Okay."

Then, "I need a way to contact Kyle again. See what he's figured out."

"Then we'll have to get out of the cage somehow. But I'm not going to kill you again. I'm not."

"I won't leave you behind like that again," Kenny agrees.

"That's not what I'm worried about, McCormick," Craig snarls, but he's lying and they both know it.

If Kenny dies, he'll end up back in his house. He doubts the reflections would want to head all the way back to South Park. Likely, they'd just drag Craig down to Peru without him.

And he can't leave Craig. This is his mess, and he has to get them both out of it. Before the world ends or something.

---

"Get the fuck out."

Craig crashes down on his ass on the landing strip. He coughs, and pain explodes through him. Stupid fucking bruised ribs. Stupid fucking reflections.

The sun-baked cement under his hands provides much-needed warmth. He hasn't eaten in about two days and the freezing bars of the cage dug into his back for the entire flight. That, combined with blood loss, makes his head spin from exhaustion.

"Up," his reflection snarls. Sometime during the plane ride, he and Kenny decided to nickname him "Streis" after a particular singer they both hate because of bad experiences in third and fourth grade.

Kenny helps him to his feet. As soon as Craig's steady, he pulls his arm from Kenny's grasp, wincing at the sudden movement. He spent hours jammed in the same cage as Kenny, and Kenny's scent alone kept triggering memories of Revvie's beating.

The plane's engine groans behind them. Streis and Revvie point their assault rifles at the Peruvian workers. Sometime during the flight they must have upgraded. The Peruvians babble in spanish and broken English.

"Don't come near us and we won't come near you," Revvie snaps. He and Streis start to back up into the jungle, jerking their heads for Craig and Kenny to follow.

Craig takes one step and stumbles. Bile rises in his throat. Kenny grabs one of his arms and slings it over his shoulder.

Bastard. He glares at Kenny with undisguised loathing, but there's not much he can do about it, so he lets Kenny support him into the undergrowth.

Vines and leaves block their way. He has to duck his head under some of the more sturdy ones. Revvie and Streis lead the way. He considers making a break for it, then decides he would rather not get shot in the kneecap.

"So," Kenny pants out. "What's this prophecy we're fulfilling, then?"

Revvie glowers back at the two of them.

"Fine, then," Kenny mumbles.

Craig ends up kind of slouching on him. The reflections take their pace way too fast. His breath comes in choppy pants. The farther they get from the illegal landing strip, the more it sinks in. He's back in Peru. He swore he'd never come here again. Fucking fate.

"Seriously, though," Kenny says. "Why do you need Craig? Is he, like, the chosen one or something? For something?"

"Do you ever fucking shut up?" Revvie snarls.

"You're the one who took the parka hood off me," Kenny says. "If you wanted me to be quiet, you could give it back."

Revvie stops, turns back to Kenny, and bashes him in the stomach with butt of his rifle.

Kenny crumples to the ground, gasping for air. Craig collapses along with him.

Revvie watches with some amusement. "Get up," he says, "or we'll kill you and decide not to worry about what you can do back in South Park."

Kenny rises to his feet, pulling Craig up with him. His face is still purple from lack of oxygen. "Got it, dude," he mumbles out.

Revvie snorts and they move on.

The humidity plasters Craig's hair against his head. He stripped off his shirt and jacket some time ago, and he sweats in just his jeans. It smells like a million different kind of plants, and mud. Lots of mud. He breathes deep, even though it feels like he's just sucking in water.

A roaring sound greets his ears. A stream rushes up in front of them. White water crashes over stones. A bridge stretches across the stream. It's rickety and old and cliché and makes Craig roll his eyes.

"When you get across," Kenny mutters, "start running and don't stop. I don't think they'll shoot you. Hopefully."

Craig stares at him for a second. Kenny is, like, five inches taller than him, so he has to stare up.

"If we don't get out of here, they're going to kill you eventually." Tight-lipped, Kenny stares straight ahead.

Craig grits his teeth and nods.

"You first." Revvie gestures at Kenny with his gun. "Check to see if it's safe."

"You do realize my luck is more likely to make it crash in on itself?" he points out.

Revvie jerks his rifle up, a clear threat. Kenny shrugs out of Craig's grip and starts across.

He makes it to the other side, about twenty feet away. Craig swallows hard.

"Now you, dude," Revvie says. Streis edges his way over the bridge to stand next to Kenny.

Craig swallows again and begins to make his way over. The bridge moans and swings under his weight. The water's probably only about five feet deep and maybe ten feet below him, but it still would be a sucky fall. He keeps his hands on the railing, careful for his broken fingers as he tiptoes across.

He manages to stand up straight next to Kenny. Revvie starts to cross, keeping his gaze focused on the water below.

Kenny grabs Streis's gun and knees him between the legs. Streis's face contorts and Kenny snatches the gun away. Craig knows the reflections are stronger than them by a lot, but Kenny ducks under his punch and slams the butt of the gun into Streis's head. Streis staggers back and Kenny whirls, planting a kick in his chest. Streis topples back into the water below them.

Revvie yells and raises his own gun, but Kenny has already latched onto Craig's hand and they're tearing through the jungle.

---

Vines whip at his face. Leaves scratch his bare arms and chest. Kenny breathes in ragged gulps. He knows as bad as the run hurts him, it hurts Craig twice as much. The other boy trails a foot behind him, his fingernails digging into Kenny's wrist.

Kenny grips the assault rifle against his chest.

Behind them, Revvie is snarling curses. They're both worn out, but adrenaline and panic and prey-instinct drive them onwards. Revvie's voice fades. Kenny grabs Craig's arm and drags him down until they're half submerged in a puddle of mud. The butt of the rifle digs into his ribs. Bushes and branches cover them up. He hears Revvie's cursing growing closer.

The reflection walks right past them, close enough for him to see the familiar blue jeans and sneakers. Then the voice fades. Kenny breathes deep.

"Jesus tapdancing Christ," Craig whispers. He sits up. Mud coats the right side of his body. "I can't believe that worked."

"Me neither."

He doesn't have anything else to say. They just sit for a few seconds. The jungle sounds around them fill the silence. Chirupping birds, whining crickets, belching frogs, the rustle of leaves.

"We have to get out of here," Kenny says. The words feel like lead.

Craig nods.

Kenny stands and helps him up. They brush mud off themselves. He hefts the assault rifle and straps it over his shoulder. Then they start to push through the jungle.

---

"We're going to be out here forever," Craig mutters, ripping a vine off his wrist.

Kenny pushes his hair out of his eyes for what feels like the millionth time in the last few minutes. "Don't be such a fucking pessimist."

"Oh. Right. Idealism is perfect in this situation. We're stumbling around in the middle of Peru – which I've already done once in my life, didn't want to do it again, thank you very much – with two monsters from an alternate dimension tracking us down. We're starving and exhausted and have I mentioned we're in the middle of Peru?"

"Would you shut the hell up?" Kenny snarls, glaring back at him. He stops when he sees the expression on Craig's face. Nauseated and afraid.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Look, we were near an illegal landing strip or something, right? I don't know how the reflections knew it was there, but it has to be close to a road or something so they can transport themselves around. And so we're probably near some sort of civilization."

Craig rubs his eyes and nods.

Since they started out in the morning and dusk is just starting to fall, they've been walking for at least twelve hours. They've run across numerous streams to drink from, but he doesn't trust any of the berries and plants they see. Kenny's used to going without food for great periods of time (a bi-product of being dirt-poor white trash) but he knows what blood loss will do to one's energy levels.

His own stomach feels scrapped empty. He managed to grab some food the few times Revvie killed him, but he honestly can't remember the last time he had a real meal.

Dusk starts to fall. The trees above them hide any hint of a moon. He starts running into trees.

They come across a stream bank and collapse without discussion. They shovel handfuls of murky water into their mouths. Then they roll onto their back and stare up at the moon. The sand feels soft under his back.

He thinks Craig's fallen asleep until the other boy speaks up.

"This fucking sucks," he says.

Again, the urge to lie to him and tell him 'it'll all be okay' clogs his throat.

"Moon's pretty tonight," Kenny says. "Stars are nice."

Craig snorts.

They watch the sky.

"I've always wanted to be an astronaut," Craig says.

Kenny blinks. He glances to his left. Craig's still staring up at the night with the most sincere expression Kenny has ever seen him wear. He's never heard of any goals or motives behind Craig Tucker. Craig Tucker has always just been the asshole who doesn't care.

"That's why I get such freaking good grades," he says. "If I want to make it to a decent college and maybe into NASA some day, I have to get a four-point. My parents don't have money for college, but I can get scholarships."

Kenny stays quiet.

"I've been studying astronomy at the library," Craig adds.

He licks his lips. His tongue tastes like mud. "Why – why are you telling me this?"

"Dunno," Craig says. Then he says, "Guess someone should know. In case I die. Because you never will, not really."

Kenny closes his eyes. "You're not going to die."

"That's sweet of you to say," Craig sneers.

---

They wake up with the sun searing their arms and chests. Kenny lends Craig his t-shirt, knowing sunburn will harm the other teen a lot more than it will hurt him. When it comes down to it, he's the expendable one.

They rinse the mud off their bodies and relax for a few minutes in the cool embrace of the stream. Craig strips down to just his boxers and floats in the water with his head tilted back. The stream is slow-paced enough for him to lay back.

Kenny is drawing up calculations on the sand with the tip of the assault rifle, trying to make a map of where they could be. He pauses when he sees Craig stand up in the water. It comes up to his shoulders.

Craig splashes some water on his face, then looks down at his hands. He makes a small noise. Kenny sets the rifle on the ground, pulls off his own jeans, and heads into the stream again. He stops a few feet from Craig so that the water only comes up to his waist.

"I feel like I can't get clean," Craig chokes out.

Kenny wants to reach out and do something, anything, but he knows physical contact is the last thing Craig needs right now.

"We'll kill him," he promises. "We'll fucking destroy that monster."

Craig nods and pushes past him to the bank. He sits down and lets the sun dry his legs off for a few minutes before pulling his jeans on. Kenny returns to his makeshift map.

They set off, by Kenny's estimate, at about nine in the morning. It sucks even more today to push their way through the leaves and branches and vines and the millions of things in their path. The steamy jungle clogs his throat and breathing is a struggle. He feels faint and weak with hunger. Since Kenny's t-shirt is white and soaked through with water and sweat, he can see the purpling of Craig's ribs through the fabric. Craig ends up clutching to his arm, leaning against him as they stagger on. His assault rifle bangs against Kenny's back.

"This is f-f-fucking ridiculous," Craig stammers out at about noon. It's the first hint of conversation between the two of them since they began walking. "How do we know they didn't head over to the Inca temple or the thing with all the prophecies and like . . . do whatever they're doing to take over the world? Or something?"

"They might have," Kenny agrees. "But I really, really hope Streis doesn't work for whatever Revvie needs you for."

Craig nods. "So I guess th-th-this means I'm like the chosen one in all th-th-these prophecies?" His teeth start to chatter. Sweat beads on his face. There's a greenish tinge to his skin Kenny really doesn't like.

"Looks like it."

"Fuck. I didn't a-ask for any of th-th-this," Craig mumbles. He clutches harder to Kenny. They move at a slow, uneven pace through the jungle.

As hours pass, Kenny starts to notice some frightening details, like the way Craig's crushed fourth finger is swelled-up and greenish-purple, and how his other broken fingers are turning an angry red. He splints them again with a strip of fabric from his t-shirt. Craig whimpers through the whole ordeal.

There are other things which scare him. Some of the cuts on Craig's torso and neck and face acquire a greenish-yellowish color. Craig's skin feels broiling, even though he shivers constantly. His eyelids sink down until he's practically asleep on Kenny. By the time night falls, he's certain: Craig's wounds are infected.

A break in the trees makes him freeze up. He pushes Craig forward and they half-run the next twenty feet. When he bursts onto a thin strip of a highway, he almost starts crying. His knees hit the pavement and Craig collapses on his back next to him. The three-quarters moon illuminates their surroundings.

"We made it." His voice cracks. The road is deathly quiet. He glances to his left, then his right. Dust and branches coat the ground. It's an abandoned highway, yeah, but it still leads to civilization.

"That's nice," Craig mumbles. His eyes slip the rest of the way closed.

"Fuck! Craig! Wake up! Craig!" He shakes him hard, but he doesn't move. "Fuck," he mumbles.

Kenny gets to his feet. His muscles protest. He can't remember ever being this exhausted in his entire life. His hands shake as he scoops Craig into his arms. The other teen is shorter than him and just as skinny, but he feels like he weighs two hundred pounds.

Craig moans but doesn't open his eyes.

Kenny starts to stagger down the road.

---

"Craig, stay awake."

The other boy makes a small sound that doesn't actually mean anything.

"Come on, dude. Talk to me."

No response.

So Kenny talks. He talks about his little sister and how she's actually good friends with Craig's sister, Ruby. He talks about winning the school spelling bee back in eighth grade because the winner got a hundred dollars. (He studied six hours a day for three weeks just to have a fighting chance). He tells Craig about the zombie invasion last week, and assures him stranger shit has happened in South Park and how they'll get out of this okay. He talks until his lips are cracked and sore and bleeding and he can't feel his tongue.

He talks about dying. And he knows Craig can't hear him, but he tells him anyway.

"I'm the only one who was ever supposed to be hurt," he says. He glances down at Craig's limp form in his arms. "You know? I was the one who died and everyone else was always okay."

Still no answer. He's used to that.

"So I think it's really unfair of fate to make you hurt like this. But don't worry. Us South Park kids, we've been fucking with fate our whole lives. So it's going to be okay. I'll make it okay. I promise."

He stops. Craig isn't breathing.

He very gently sets him on the ground and kneels over him. Then he starts screaming, pounding on his chest, begging and shrieking for him to wake up because he doesn't know what he'll do if Craig dies, he won't get out of here sane if Craig doesn't, he needs Craig to live, goddamn it, goddamn it-!

"You asshole, Tucker!" he screams. "Don't give up on me now! Don't take the easy way out on this! Fight for something for once in your fucking life! Fight! Goddamn it, fight!"

Craig rolls over and hacks up a lump of phlegm and blood. His breathing returns, rasping and strained. Then he passes out again.

Kenny sits on his heels and takes a deep breath. He rubs his eyes. It takes a couple seconds for him to work up the strength, but he picks up Craig and starts off again.

"So where were we? Oh, yeah, let me tell you about this time in fifth grade when Cartman decided to rob a bank-"

---

The sign reads: Cusco. Seis Kilometros

---

When Craig wakes up, he has the worst headache in his entire life. His fingers throb. His ribs ache. He cracks his eyes open and immediately shuts them because even though the light is dim, it makes his head hurt worst.

He decides if it hurts this much, he can't be dead, so he leans back and snuggles into his pillow and goes back to sleep.

---

When he wakes up a second time, most of his headache is gone and the pain in his hand has gone from 'screaming agony' to 'tolerable annoyance.' He pushes himself up into a pseudo-sitting position, blinks, and stares at his surroundings.

He's on a cot. A ragged blanket wraps around his hips. He glances down at his torso and sees that his ribs are wrapped in dingy white medical tape. It smells like spices and trash and car exhaust and antiseptic in here. Flies buzz. An air conditioner whines. The whole room is hot and humid. The room is about the size of his bedroom at home. There are two cots next to him, both of them taken by scrawny-looking Peruvians.

He blinks.

"You're awake. Jesus Christ."

He looks up to see Kenny standing in the doorway. Kenny crosses to his cot. Something inside Craig screams for him to run.

It's Kenny. KENNY. He repeats it to himself over and over again, trying to believe it. The bruises on Kenny's face make it much more convincing. He wears an unfamiliar blue-and-white t-shirt with the word Lima on it.

"Where the fuck am I?" he rasps.

"Hospital in Cusco. It's one of the poorer ones. The doctor wanted to move us to a rich one for tourists, but I didn't want to risk it. If Revvie's hunting us down, it'll be the first place he looks." Kenny shakes his head and kneels next to him. "You okay?"

"I-" Craig glances down at his throbbing left hand. His heart skips a beat. White bandages are wrapped around his left hand where his fourth finger and pinkie used to be.

"They were really infected," Kenny says softly. "The doctor had to amputate them."

"Fuck." He tries to curl his legs up against his chest, but his bruised ribs scream in protest.

"Doctor also says for you not to move too much for the next few days. You've been asleep for two days."

"Two days." Craig hugs himself. "Parents must be flipping."

"Stan and Kyle know where we are." Kenny doesn't sound too certain. "Look, I just came over to tell you not to look into mirrors or anything for more than a couple seconds. I don't think it worked before at the river water because it was too murky and dark, but Revvie and Streis can travel and get us that way. That's how Revvie caught me before. So be careful."

Craig nods. His mouth feels dry. "Water?"

Kenny picks a cup off his bedside table and hands it to him. Craig drinks carefully. It feels so weird not to have those fingers. He never realized how useful they were until they're gone.

"Where's the rifle?"

Kenny makes a face. "I sold it. To pay for the hospital. And anesthesia for you, and meds and antibiotics. And food. And clothes. Some guys tried to just steal it from me, but I beat the shit out of them."

Craig feels a smile quirking on his lips, against his will. "Well, aren't you a badass."

Kenny grins back. "Yeah. I try."

Something in his expression makes Craig's stomach churn with butterflies. He chocks the reaction up to the antibiotics.

Kenny stands up. "You think you can hold tight for a while? The doctor said he'll be back again in a couple hours. I didn't want to leave you while he was out, but I really have to track down a phone."

Craig nods. "Don't-" He stops when he realizes how stupid it is.

Kenny raises his eyebrows.

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on it."

"I said it's nothing, McCormick," Craig snaps.

Kenny glares down at him.

He sucks in air, which makes his rib scream. He breathes out and gives in. "Don't leave me alone for too long. I-I feel kinda vulnerable. Right here. But only because of the ribs. And this is still all your fault." He realizes he's babbling, and shuts up.

Kenny's glare shifts into a smile.

Craig's stomach does that weird fluttering thing again. Yeah, it's definitely the antibiotics.

"I'll be back in less than an hour, I promise. You speak any Spanish?"

"No." His foreign language elective has been German for the past three years.

"If anyone tries to mess with you, say 'no me chingues, soy machín."

Craig repeats it back to him. "What's that mean?"

"Don't fuck with me, I'm the baddest motherfucker," Kenny says with a straight face.

Craig laughs for real for the first time in a long time.

---

Kenny pumps a long string of coins, called '50 centimos' into the phone booth. When he's satisfied the machine's demands for a long distance call, he punches in Kyle's phone number.

Kyle picks up after the third ring. "Hello," he says politely.

"Kyle, it's Kenny."

"Oh, hey."

He narrows his eyes. He's been missing for days. Hopefully they would be slightly alarmed, especially since he told them-

"Aw, you think I'm my reflection, don't you?"

"Reflection? What are you talking about?" Kyle says. He's the worst actor in the entire world.

"Look, Kyle, it's me," Kenny says. "I know last time it was the guy, he called you and told you to forget everything, but it's me for real this time."

"Yeah," Kyle says. "Yeah, sure it is." But he doesn't hang up.

"Last time I asked you for ways to eliminate them. Have you found anything out?"

"Oh," Kyle says, and he breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, fuck, dude, it is you. Are you okay? Where the hell are you? Where's Craig? His parents are freaking out."

"We're in Cusco, Peru. Craig's in a hospital close by, but he's doing okay. Don't tell them where we are, I don't want them to get involved in this, too. I'm okay, too, I guess. I'm not too concerned about what happens to me, I just don't want to die again and leave Craig alone. We escaped from the reflections, but I still don't know what they want and they're probably going to want to come after us if Craig's reflection doesn't work for whatever prophecy thing they need Craig for." He takes in a deep breath, hoping that will have answered all of Kyle's questions. "Okay. Spill whatever you've learned."

He hears Kyle fumbling around for something. "Okay. So I did a bunch of internet research, cross-referencing reflections and Peru. Then I got Token and Tweek and Clyde and Jimmy and Jason – all the guys from the gang Craig hangs with – to go out in the woods looking for this shack they kept you in. They found it, I think – I had them smash the mirror to be careful – and they brought me the book and I found the spell I think you used. It's part of some ancient Peruvian Incan prophecy."

"Incan prophecy? It's in Latin."

"Yeah, that's the part that really creeps me out. I don't know what that is. My guess is that someone translated the spell and that it works regardless of language. Anyway, I looked back at my notes on the pan flute epidemic back when we were in fourth grade, and it looks like this spell was written at about the same time as the guinea pig one with Craig and the lasers shooting out his eyes and everything. So, yeah, looks like these predictions were made by the same people and it's probably the same power or supernatural force behind these reflections as behind the freaking giant guinea pigs."

"I'm listening."

"There's probably another prophecy written on the wall there for Craig. Hell, there might be a ton of them. He might be some sort of 'chosen one' or something, which would really suck for him. Anyway, it looks like he's the trigger for this prophecy same as the last, by what the reflections seem to think, only he's a negative trigger instead of a positive trigger. It's really interesting how mythology and time seem to be created just by-"

"Kyle. Back to what the assholes want, what they can do, and how we can kill them."

"Right. So, I don't know what the prophecy is of, but you're definitely going to have to stop them because they might be, like, Guinea Pirates and want to take over the world that way."

"I don't think they're guinea pirates."

"Right. Well, they might want to take over the world either way."

"I think that's the general idea."

"Kay then. From what research I've done, the reflections can't be killed if you stab them in the chest or something. They only appear in really old Incan stories, stuff society has pretty much forgotten about. If you stab them they'll just regenerate."

"That's great, Kyle."

"Buuuuuut if you stab them in the eyes they'll loose their link to the real world and shift back to the world of shadow. That's the reflection world, by the way. So get them in the eyes somehow."

"The eyes? Really? Gross."

"That's the only thing that will work. Sorry, dude. Hey, do you want Stan and Cartman and me to fly down there and help you out? Only probably not Cartman because he's a dick and probably doesn't even care that you and Craig were captured by monsters from alternate dimensions."

Kenny thinks for a second. He really doesn't want to get the other three involved. On the other hand, it would always be good to have some more manpower.

"Sure, dude, if you can get down here fast enough."

"I'll find the Shitty Wok dude and make him fly us down here," Kyle jokes. "But, seriously, be careful, okay? I know you can't die, but you can be hurt. And Craig's an asshole but he doesn't deserve to die."

Kenny closes his eyes and leans against the telephone booth.

"Have you considered going to the police?"

"And tell them what? Oh, excuse me for a second, sirs. Creatures from alternate dimensions who look exactly like me and my friend and going to try and take over the world. Come on, sir, please don't put that straight jacket on me."

He and Kyle snigger together, even though it's not that funny and it's not a joke.

"Also," he continues, "I barely speak any Spanish. I know a bunch of Mexcian profanity, and then, like, basic greetings from the time I got run over by a bus and shipped down to Mexico."

"Figure something out, dude. Stan and I will fly over there as soon as he gets home from football practice and we can convince the Shitty Wok dude that he should take us to Peru."

"Kay."

"Be careful," Kyle says again, unnecessarily.

Kenny sighs. "I'll try."

"Tell Craig to watch himself."

"I will."

"Watch yourself, too."

"Kyle-"

"Sorry, sorry, I just worry. We'll be down there soon, okay?"

"Okay, okay. I've gotta go check on Craig." And he's laughing now at Kyle's mother-hen tendencies.

He hangs up and takes a deep breath. Then he starts on back to the hospital, weaving his way through the streets. Hopefully nothing horrible has happened to Craig while he was gone.

---

The doctor shines a couple lights in his eyes, babbles something at him in Spanish, then gives him a tamale. Craig rips into it and eats it within the space of thirty seconds. It's the best thing he's even tasted and he's still starving after he's finished.

Then he closes his eyes and tries to get some sleep. When he opens his eyes again, the doctor is right in front of him, holding a mirror up to his face, and Craig looks at it before he can stop himself.

He's sure the doctor just wanted to show him how well his face is feeling up. For a second it's just him in the reflection. His purple bruises have faded to yellow. Stitches seal up three different cuts. Then his reflection winks at him.

He shouts and thrusts the mirror away. The doctor stumbles back, glowering at him, but it's too late, the damage has been done.

Streis lunges out of the mirror and lands in a catlike crouch next to Craig's bed. The doctor runs, screaming, dropping the mirror on a floor. It shatters into hundreds of pieces. The patient next to Craig rolls out of her own bed and staggers from the room, holding her bandages, shrieking. The other patient is either unconscious or dead or too sick to move.

The reflection stands up straight. The yellowing bruises fade from his face and a swirl of color, and he looks healthy and whole and ten times stronger than him.

"Motherfucker!"

Craig vaults out of his cot and tackles Streis. He lands on top of him and manages to slam two quick punches into his face. Then Streis grabs his wrist and throws him. He crashes into the wall and slides to the ground. His bruised ribs start screaming, and his left hand is bleeding.

He starts to stand. Streis grabs him by the neck and pushes him up against the wall. He can't breath. His vision starts to blur. Panic rises in his chest. He kicks out, desperately, but he can't make contact and everything is black and-

---

When Kenny enters the hospital, he knows something's wrong. The doctor's desk is empty. The building only has three rooms, and it's deathly silent in the first one.

There are no doors in the doorways, and he glances into the patients' room. He can see glass on the floor. His stomach lurches.

"Craig?" he calls.

He peers into the patients' room.

Craig grabs his hand and slams it against the wall. Pain explodes through him, and he collapses against the ground. He tries to peer up at Craig, to figure out why he's doing this – then he remembers that Craig has a lot more bruises on his face than that.

"Fuck!" Kenny tries to scramble to his feet, but Streis grabs his arm and twists it behind his back. Pain floods through him. He collapses back against Streis, unable to fight through the blinding pain. He makes out Craig's limp form on the floor next to his bed. Hopefully he's just unconscious. Hopefully.

Streis starts drag him through the building. He grabs both of Kenny's arms behind his back and forces him into the bathroom. Kenny finds himself staring at the cracked and filthy mirror above the sink.

He snaps his eyes closed, but Streis pries them open, and a moment later Revvie steps into the bathroom.

"Well, well, well," he says, and punches Kenny hard enough to send him crashing back into the floor and into the doctor's desk.

Kenny crumples up, a ball of pain. Blood runs down his back and arms. He opens his eyes to see them both looking down at him, amused. And he sees a bandaged, injured, and blurry-eyed Craig sneaking up on them with a sliver of glass clenched in his bloody hands.

Craig jumps onto Revvie's back and rams the sliver of glass into his skull. Revvie's eyes roll back and he topples to the ground, landing on top of Craig. Kenny grabs Streis around the legs and drags him down. Craig's already wormed his way out from under Revvie and hurried back to the patients' room.

"Get two!" Kenny shouts, clambering on top of Streis and punches him in the stomach, then the throat. The reflection coughs but Kenny doesn't know how long he can keep him down. Streis is a lot stronger than him, and he starts to buck, to thrash, to writhe, his eyes locked on Kenny and snarling curses.

Craig brings him two shards of glass.

"Eyes!" Kenny shouts. Streis' eyes widen and he starts to fight even harder. But Craig's already spiked the first shard into Streis' right eye.

Streis shrieks. His back arches almost off the floor. The scream pierces Kenny deep down and makes his ears ache. Then Craig jams the second shard into the other eye.

Streis vanishes out from under Kenny.

Kenny blinks, then stands, taking a huge breath. He and Craig hunch over next to each other, fighting for air.

"Now we just need to do mine," Kenny says. And he frowns, because Revvie is doing a very good impersonation of being dead.

Craig kicks him and the reflection rolls over. His eyes are glass and his mouth open. Blood pools from the wound on his head. Craig drags the glass shard from his skull and the blood gushes out.

"He's dead," Craig says. "Somehow. He's dead."

"They can only be killed if you get their eyes-" he starts, then stops.

"What?"

"This is my reflection," he says. "Not just a random reflection. My reflection. Kenny McCormick's reflection. The dying kid."

He and Craig grin rather triumphantly at each other.

"Did we do it?" Craig says in a low voice. "Is it-"

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I think it's over."

Spontaneously, they hug. He feels the warmth of Craig's body and it's the best thing in the world. He pulls back and Craig's eyes are a wet.

They head back into the patients' room and he finds some medical tape to wrap up his back with. He's in the middle of bandaging up Craig's hands when Craig says, "Hey, but you always come back to life."

---

Kenny drops the athletic tape and they run back into the main room. Adrenaline sears through his veins, but it's already too late.

Revvie is dusting himself off. A second Revvie is on the floor, wiping blood from his head.

"Woah," the Revvie on the floor says. "I didn't know I could do that."

The Revvie standing up smirks. "See, when you killed me, you started Kenny's automatic rebirthing process. Since I don't have a mother, I was born again from one of these shards. Only took me a few minutes, too, ain't that nice? Only I wasn't really dead because we can't die like that. So the other me came back to life. And there's two of me now. How sweet is that?" He laughs.

"Craig," Kenny says in a low voice, "get the glass."

"Not so fast," The Revvie on the floor says, wagging his fingers. "Naughty, naughty."

A Revvie grabs each of them and forces them back against the wall. The Revvie holding Kenny presses his throat against the wall with his forearm, and uses his other hand to pull something from his belt. Kenny's eyes widen when the bastard pulls a semi-automatic handgun from its sheath.

"Dude!" Revvie says in absolute delight. "I cloned my gun, too!" Then he shoots Kenny in the head.

---

"All right," Revvie says in an amiable voice. One of them has Craig's arms behind his back while the other talks to him like a child. "This is going to be very painful, all right? And I'm sorry, but it's the fastest mode of transportation and I actually don't care whether or not it hurts you."

Kenny's limp form is curled up on the ground next to Craig's feet. He knows Kenny's not dead for real, but it still makes him feel freaking lonely and terrified.

It's weird when they talk. Only one makes a sound, but both of them move their mouths.

"But," one the Revvies says. "Think we're close enough to do it without scrambling his body?"

"Scrambling my body? I really don't want to scramble my body. Wherever we're going, can't we just walk?" He realizes he's babbling but he can't summon the will to shut up this time.

"Nah," the other Revvie says. "It's only like forty miles, he'll be fine."

"You think so?"

"He doesn't really need all his body parts, anyway."

"No. I need them. To, like, function." Craig puts on his most sincere expression, his eyes wide and everything. He feels like a moron but he really likes his spine.

"All you have to do is stand next to a bunch of mirrors," the first Revvie says soothingly. "You only need your brain and half your internal organs to pull that off."

"Let's do it!" the second Revvie says.

They push him up to the bathroom mirror. Craig stares at himself. He's the only one reflecting back. The second Revvie presses his hand against the glass. His entire body shifts and he turns into a simple reflection in the mirror. Then he winks and disappears.

The first Revvie reaches out and touches the mirror, still grabbing hold of Craig. The world around them starts to blur. He feels his insides shimmer and everything goes cold.

It feels like his entire body is being ripped into a million pieces. He screams, but no sound comes out. All he hears is the roar of his own blood. He's screaming his throat raw and then-

He blinks and they're in the middle of a jungle, next to a river. The pain is gone. Trees surround them and vines swoop down at eye level.

"Sweet! We weren't too far away! He's still functional!" one the Revvies says gleefully.

He stumbles and Revvie lets go of him. His ribs hurt like a bitch. The humid, steamy air clogs in his throat. He holds his wounded left hand against his chest.

"Aw, hell no," Revvie says in disgust. The other Revvie makes an identical expression. Craig glances and down and sees Kenny clinging to the first Revvie's leg.

"Fucking . . . bastard . . . " Kenny pants. Blood pours down on his face. Crimson clumps coat the bullet wound just above his temple. His eyes are narrowed and his teeth bared.

"Don't fucking . . . touch . . . Craig . . . " he rasps.

"He must have latched on just before I left!" Revvie shakes him loose.

"McCormick!" Craig bends down next to him and peels off his t-shirt. He presses the cloth to Kenny's head. Blood immediately soaks through the fabric. "Fuck!"

"No, no," comes Revvie's mocking voice.

He feels hands under his armpits and the reflection drags him back. He kicks out, snarling fury, but Revvie ignores his feeble attempts.

"That'd be defeating the purpose," the other one says. "See, we want to kill him, not help him live."

He shoots Kenny in the back. Twice. Blood gushes from Kenny's body. Craig makes a choking sound, his gaze on the corpse. Kenny lies still.

"Good. That's over with, then." Revvie grabs Craig's wrist. "Come on."

"Let go of me!" he snarls, pulling his hand away. The two Revvies glower at him.

"If you don't cooperate," one says, "we'll beat the shit out of you."

Craig sneers back at them. "There are three things in the world I care about," he says. "My guinea pig Stripes, the TV show Red Racer, and my family. If you want to get to my family, you'll have to fly all the way back to Colorado, and we've got people waiting for you there."

The Revvies exchange glances.

"You've already beaten the shit out of me and you've already killed Kenny," he says. "I honestly don't care what you do to me, I'm not going to help you take over the world, or whatever."

"You sure about that, Craigy?"

One of the Revvies grabs his face and forces him to look at him. Craig feels tiny next to the Kenny-look-alike. He smells exactly like Kenny, like bitter weed and cigarette smoke and Laundromat soap. His breath gets in his face and Craig scrunches up his nose.

Revvie forces his back up against a tree. The bark scrapes against his spine, rubbing against bruises. He winces but forces himself not to flinch. Revvie jams his knee up between Craig's legs.

"Because there are a lot of things we could do to you, Craig," he says, voice high-pitched and sickly sweet. "We haven't even gotten started yet."

Craig glares down at him. In the past few days he's managed not to freak out whenever Kenny touches, mostly because he reminds himself who it really is.

Now it's not Kenny, it's the monster.

His instincts scream to give in and do whatever Revvie wants before he gets hurt. He knows if he does, they'll end up fucking with everyone's lives anyway.

"Fuck you."

Revvie snorts and throws him to the ground. He crumples up against the dirt, his arms above his head, instinctively protecting himself.

"Get him in the spine," one of them suggests. "He doesn't actually have to do anything but just sit there, right?"

His stomach clenches. He holds his breath, too afraid to make a sound and push them one way or other.

"Dunno. We might need him to stand or something. But if we have to we'll shoot him in the kneecaps, definitely," the other says. "Sorry, Craigy. We don't actually need your cooperation, it would just be more convenient that way."

He brings up his gun. The barrel rushes down towards Craig's head.

---

When he wakes his head is pressed into Revvie's shoulder and the reflection's arms are around him, carrying him as easily as if he were a baby.

"Aw, look, he's awake," the reflection coos.

He grits his teeth and figures there's no point in struggling. He lets himself follow his instincts. He's exhausted, so he slouches against the reflection and stares at the grass below. Out of the corner in his eye, he sees the second reflection is carrying a torch. It illuminates the dusky sky around them. Both of them have assault rifles slung over their shoulders.

He sees a yellow blob in the distance, through the barrage of trees and vines and undergrowth. He clamps down on the urge to cry out and remains docile even as Revvie sets him on his feet.

They're standing in front of the temple.

It was seven years ago, but it still looks exactly the same. Ancient statues stacked up against the walls. Huge trees frame the whole temple. A hint of a moon breaks free of the dusky sky and illuminates the crumbling, wizened brick.

"This just keeps getting better and better," Craig mutters.

The Revvies snort and push him forward. The three of them step through the doorway and the temperature drops twenty degrees. Light flickers off the walls and casts shadows on their faces. He sees the stone tablet with the guinea pig prophecy on it. Old memories surface. He lets the Revvies shuffle him forward until they're standing in front of a second stone table.

"Oh, hell no," Craig says. The Revvies ignore him and inspect the stone table. He sees Kennys on the wall – no, those are Revvies – and a mirror and a waterfall and a lot more Kennys and he doesn't know what any of this means.

And at the very beginning of this table, there's him, standing under the water.

Shit.

They keep pushing him forward, deeper and deeper into the temple. Light bleeds up ahead, making him squint and blink several times to adjust. The Revvies are grinning at each other. They each grab one of his shoulders to make sure he doesn't pull anything. His skin crawls at their touch.

They come upon the mouth of the tunnel, to where he stopped before on his last excursion to Peru. The sound of rushing water drowns out all other sound. Moss clings to the walls of the huge cavern. Water gushes from the mouths of the massive statues. A bridge stretches from stone to stone above the water.

Revvie shoves him and he stumbles in front of them. He gingerly steps onto the first plank. He glances back and they glare at him to continue.

He takes another step on the bridge. Then he jumps over the rails and dives.

Blood roars in his ears. He slices through the water. His senses reel with shock. For a second, darkness envelops him. Then he breaks the surface, gasping for air. Numbness spreads through him, but he ignores it, treading water and trying to fight the current dragging him towards the nearest waterfall.

He hears the Revvies yelling above him, and then the waterfall catches hold of him and drags him down the twenty foot drop.

When he surfaces a second time, he spits out water and lets the current yank him along. It sends him bashing up against the gray-stone wall a couple times, but he doesn't have the strength to fight back. His mind starts to haze over. It's only when the water turns shallow and his feet touch the sandy bottom that he forces himself to clamber out onto the bank.

He stands there, shivering, hugging himself for a few seconds. The cavern has narrowed down to a ten-foot roof above his head. It slopes even lower as the tunnel carries on. He sees a tunnel leading off into blackness, although the main tunnel seems to follow along next to the water pretty well. The craggy rocks around him make him feel protected against the Revvies, even though it's probably just wishful thinking. This part of the cavern is dingy and dark and he has to squint to make out shapes.

"Craig!"

He whirls and sees Kenny wading out from the stream. The other boy is bleeding from his bullet wounds, dripping wet, and looking like he's about to pass out. But he's still wearing his Lima t-shirt, and he's grinning.

"Kenny!"

And he can't help himself. He says his first name. Goddamn it. It's not like he actually cares about McCormick . . . right?

He lurches forward and hugs Kenny, hard.

"Dude," he breathes out. Kenny feels warm and cold at the same time. He hugs him harder. Hesitantly, Kenny hugs him back.

"I knew I saw you following us. I knew it." He practically clutches at him. Kenny makes a noise in protest.

"Sorry." He pulls back. Kenny's blood coats his arms and chest. "Dude. You're bleeding. Bad. I thought you were dead. They shot you three times."

"I know. S'kay, I've lived through worse." Kenny shakes his head and moves to stand next to Craig.

"You've died from less, too," he says.

"Fate only kills me when she thinks it'll hurt me the most to die," Kenny says grimly. His voice sounds strained, as if he's struggling to pronounce each syllable. "If I'm still alive it means shit's about to go down. Let's get out of here. This way, I think."

He gestures down the stream.

"How do you know?"

"It's where they're not," Kenny points out.

"Ah. Good point."

They start at a slow pace, next to the stream. Craig keeps a fierce hold on Kenny's arm, even though the other boy is staying pretty strong. Craig guesses he's on his last reserves of energy.

For a few minutes neither of them talk. The cavern wall keeps sloping down, enough for them to wade into the freezing water so they don't have to duck their heads. They pass dark tunnels branching off from the wall next to them. He really hopes none of them are they way out. Kenny wears a forced, fake expression, and Craig is pretty sure he's trying to keep from crying out.

"Dude, you okay? You want me to bandage you up or something?"

Kenny shakes his head, gritting his teeth. "Let's just get out of here."

Another minutes passes.

"I guess Streis didn't work for whatever Revvie was trying to do with the whole prophecy thing."

Kenny looks confused for a second, then says, "yeah. Probably. He was too different from you."

"We just have to kill that bastard," Craig says grimly, "then we can get the fuck out of here and back to our boring old lives."

It's the most optimistic thing he's said in a long time. He feels stupid, but something about Kenny makes him not care what he says. Maybe it's because Kenny has seen him at his worse in the past few days. Maybe it's because Kenny's saved his life a couple times. Maybe it's because they've been to hell and back together."

"Hey. Uh. Yeah." Kenny shoves his hands into his pockets, wincing a little at the movement. Craig can only make out his silhouette through the pitch black. "I don't know if I've apologized properly, or enough, or if I ever could. So I'm sorry I dragged you into this, because it really is none of your fault."

Craig stops and stares at him. Kenny halts a few feet ahead and raises his eyebrows.

"I told you never to apologize to me again," he says, each word measured.

Revvie crosses his arms and grins, slivers of light reflecting off his sharp white teeth. "Oh did you now?"

---

Craig pulls his fists up and glowers at the reflection, knowing he doesn't stand a chance but not caring. Revvie snorts and pulls back his own fist.

Then Kenny comes screaming out of one of the tunnels. He tackles Revvie and they both topple over. He clenches a spear tightly in his fist, and he jams it down into Revvie's head, crushing it into his brain.

Craig stares as Kenny staggers to his feet and rolls Revvie's corpse up onto the bank.

"What the fuck," he says in monotone.

"Sorry, dude," Kenny rasps out. "I just caught up with you guys." His t-shirt is sticky with blood. "Jesus, that was a close one."

"Why didn't you stab his eyes out?" he demands, staring at Revvie's body.

"Stan told me –" Kenny stops to gulp in air- "When I called him and Kyle and asked them how to get rid of them, they told me about the eye-stabby trick but Stan said it might not work for my reflection because of my rebirthing thing. Anyway, he's not dead so he won't morph again. Just unconscious."

"You sure? He looks pretty dead to me."

"Yeah, dude, I felt his heartbeat when I rolled him up onto the bank. The reflections are tougher than us. Come on, we gotta go! I think I'm going to die soon from blood loss or something and I don't want to leave you alone here! He'll wake up soon!"

And with that, Kenny grabs his wrist and starts to drag him along the stream. Craig has to sprint to keep up with him. There's a wild, frenzied edge to Kenny's movements. His breathing is labored. Blood dribbles from the bullet wounds in his back.

After a few minutes Craig's ribs start to protest. He pulls free from Kenny's grasp and leans back, breathing hard, eyes closed. Kenny leans back against him. There's more light up ahead, not enough for him to really make out much in the way of color yet, but enough for the shades of darkness to become more specific and less general lumps.

"You okay?" Kenny gasps out.

"Yeah, dude," Craig rasps out. "I should be asking you that. My ribs hurt like a fucking bitch, though." He shakes his head. "Jesus Christ. I should have known that asshole wasn't you. Jesus Christ."

"S'kay, dude. We just need to get out of here." Kenny glances back the way they came, then up ahead. They start walking again, passing a huge, gaping mouth of a tunnel. Craig wonders briefly where they all lead.

"I'm worried something's gonna jump out and get us," Kenny says.

"Nothing's going to get us," Craig says fiercely. "You protected me before and I'll protect you now."

Kenny glances down at him. In the dim light, Craig can makes out the blue in his wide eyes.

"Mother hen much, Craig?" He coughs and a thick glob of blood dribbles down over his lips. " I thought you don't care about anything."

"I do care about shit, McCormick," he snarls, even though the blood terrifies him. "I – I kind of care about you now."

Kenny raises his eyebrows. Craig feels his cheeks flush and hopes Kenny can't see them through the darkness.

"I mean, you're still an asshole," he says quickly. "But you've saved my life a couple times, I guess. So that means you're not too much of an asshole."

Kenny stops, cups Craig's cheek, and presses their lips together.

Craig's eyes fly open wide. His first instinct is to smash the shit out Kenny. Then the warmth hits him. He closes his eyes and puts his arms around Kenny's neck. Just this once. For just this second. Because even though Kenny smells and looks and sounds like Revvie, he's not him. He's Kenny McCormick.

He tastes like blood.

Kenny pulls back and grins ruefully down at him.

"Just wanted to do that once," he says. "Just in case I die and you-"

He stops, but they both hear the words anyway.

Craig doesn't know what to say. His mouth tastes like Kenny's blood. He coughs once, then manages, "So, uh, where are we going?"

"This way. Somewhere." Kenny grins, a forced, strained smile, and then they continue on again, Kenny a few steps ahead of him as if he's leading the way.

His lips burn. His cheeks burn. Some part of him is still frozen and angry and scared inside, but it feels like . . . like he might be dethawing a little.

Then he happens to glance down at the water. He is the only one with a reflection.

---

His blood runs cold. He quickly jerks his gaze back to Revvie's shoulders. Revvie glances back at him. "Okay, dude?"

"Y-y-yeah," he manages. "Ribs hurt like a bitch."

He feels numb again. He doesn't know what to think, what to feel.

He wants to kill something. He wants to feel bone crunch and blood flow and skin break.

He fake-stumbles into the water. His hands scrabble along the rocks until he finds a large, sharp one.

Revvie reaches back and extends a hand. Craig accepts it with his left, and he lets the reflection hoist him to his feet. Then he swings his right hand.

The rock smashes into Revvie's left eye. The reflection staggers back, screaming, clutching at the wounded mess. Before Revvie can pull on any defences or heal himself, Craig jams the rock into his right eye.

The reflection takes half a step and vanishes.

Craig stumbles. His knees hit the sandy rock. Some of the blood on his hands disappears. Some of the blood is his own. The stumps on his left hand have opened up again.

He buries his head into the sand.

"Uh-"

He grabs the rock up again and tenses at the sound of the voice, pulling himself back up to kneeling. A bloody, bedraggled-looking Kenny McCormick has climbed out of one of the tunnels.

"Fuck. No. Get away." Craig holds out the rock.

Kenny puts his hands up, wincing as he moves. The blood pouring down his cheek clumps together in his collarbone. He backs up against the nearest wall. "Dude, it's me."

"That's what the last two said." His voice is rising and he sounds more than a little hysterical. "Stay away from me."

"Craig, I-"

"Just stay the fuck away from me!" he screams. His arms are shaking. Everything is shaking. "I can't take it anymore! I don't want anymore fucking mind games or reflections or illusions or shit disappearing and reappearing. I just want something to be real!"

"You want to be an astronaut," Kenny says.

Craig blinks.

"That's what you told me the other night when we were lost in the jungle. You said you wanted to be an astronaut when we were looking up at the stars."

Craig glances at the water. Kenny has a reflection.

He manages to hold his arm up for a second longer. Then he collapses into the sand.

Kenny moves over to him and sits down next to him, even though Craig knows it has to hurt him. He pulls Craig into his arms, and Craig sort of just leans. It's tainted now, the contact is tainted now, because Revvie did the same before and it was a lie, it was all a lie-

"This is what's real," Kenny says fiercely. "I'm going to get you the hell out of here and I'm going to make sure you get through this. That's my promise to you, and it's the goddamn truth."

---

The reflection tried to get Craig to walk along the bank, so they make the executive decision to enter the tunnels. It turns out they're all a bunch of separate little paths, about twenty feet long, leading into one huge tunnel that Kenny says leads straight up to the temple. There's no light and they stumble around, feeling their way up the sloping stone.

"There's only one left," Kenny rasps. "Then this is over."

Craig shakes his head, then realizes Kenny can't see him. "He killed the first one. He says he only knocked him unconscious but I think he was lying. So the first one will have doubled by now. There are two again."

"Fuck," Kenny mutters.

"They're gonna catch up with us soon." He doesn't know how he manages to sound so calm. "They probably know where we are and they're just waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

He peers down one of the paths leading off from the main tunnel. Nothing. He and Kenny keep walking. Their clammy clothes stick to their skin.

"Don't say that," Kenny mutters, but he doesn't deny it.

Then: "If they catch up with us, I want you to run as fast as you can while you hold them off."

"You'll die."

His lips twist in a smirk. "So?"

Good point.

"Maybe I'll manage to get one in the eyes." They each grabbed a rock from the stream. "You'll only have one to deal with then."

Their voices echo off the walls.

"And then it'll be over," Craig whispers.

"Yeah," Kenny says. "And then it'll be over."

Craig works up the courage to speak.

"Before you showed up . . . Revvie . . ." He swallows hard and it hits him, really hits him. "Oh, god, that bastard fucking kissed me and . . . and . . .and I thought it was you and . . . oh, god . . . "

He feels violated in a completely new way. He hugs himself. Shivers run up his spine.

Kenny grabs his shoulder. Craig can't see his expression through the dark, but he can guess it's of the annoyingly sympathetic variety.

"It's okay, dude," Kenny mumbles. "Not your fault."

"Yeah, but-" He reaches out blindly and snags onto Kenny's collar. Then he drags him close and presses their lips together.

He releases him and pushes him away a second later, before either of them can really process it.

"See?" he says bitterly. "Now when I do that you just feel like him."

"Dude. You - you kissed me."

"Your point?" he snarls out. His throat feels clogged for some reason.

"You-you-does this mean-"

"No. It doesn't."

They start down the tunnel again, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone.

"I-I-" He hates himself for the stammer. "I'm sorry, dude. I don't know . . . what you think about all this. But it's not gonna be that way, regardless."

They're both quiet for a moment, then Kenny says, in a slow, low voice, "When we get back to South Park, can we be friends?"

Craig stops and hugs him. Kenny hugs back. They're basically clinging to each other now, holding each other up. He feels how cold Kenny is and he knows there's not much time. He's making a strangled, choking sound, and the same noise is coming from Kenny.

"Okay," Craig says, his voice surprisingly even. "We've gotta get out of here."

And then the Revvies attack.

---

One holds Craig against the tunnel walls while the other shoots Kenny repeatedly in the back. His corpse crumples against the ground and Craig doesn't doubt that they've managed to kill him this time. He can barely see anything in the near-darkness, but he can make out the frozen, wide-eyed, blank expression on Kenny's face.

Then Revvie shoots him in the kneecap.

Pain explodes through him. He staggers and slumps against the wall. His insides are screaming, his instincts are yelling. His stomach revolts from pure nausea and he empties what little he's eaten in the last twenty-four hours onto the floor. He crashes down and grabs at his leg. His shrieks bounce off the walls. Blood trickles over his fingers.

Dimly, he processes the other Revvie picking him up and tossing him over his shoulder. His body bounces when Revvie moves, in time with the footsteps. His vision goes dim from blood loss. He feels freezing cold all over. By the time he's managed to work through the pain enough to open his eyes, they're out in the open again, walking along the stream bank. Bright light makes him wince.

"Shut up," Revvie growls, and he realizes he's making these pathetic little whimpering sounds. He doesn't know if you can heal from a shot-up kneecap. Oh, god, oh, god, what if I never walk again-

"I said shut up!"

He bites down on his lip and shuts his eyes again. After a few minutes of walking they deposit him on the ground. He curls up but Revvie kicks him until he uncurls.

The three of them are on a circular, stone slab elevated above a huge, flowing river. Multitudes of streams feed into the river. Light emanates from the glowing moss on the walls. Water spews in an arc above their heads to land, crashing down in a barrage of foamy white, in the river beyond. The slab is about twenty feet in diameter, and warm enough to counteract the cooling effect of the mist floating down to soak their bodies. Craig sits up and hugs his shot-up right leg to his chest, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, every muscle tense. Adrenaline sizzles through his veins. Everything seems to be happening too-slow or too-fast, all at once.

There are seven mirrors around them, even spaced on the edge of the slab, set on ancient frames and bearing cracked glass. There's only one Kenny (no . . . it's Revvie . . . ) reflected infinitely. Craig doesn't appear in the reflections, which is his first hint these are not normal mirrors. He glances up. The two Revvies have become one again. Maybe because of the mirror? It doesn't matter, because in the reflected glass there are millions of them and Craig realizes what he intends to do.

"You . . . fucking asshole . . . " he growls out. "You killed him. You kissed me." Somehow, the later is the more severe of the two crimes.

"You humans and your emotions," Revvie sneers down at him. "So much fun to fuck with. That's why I'm going to leave some of you alive as my slaves after the conquest. Not you, though. Jesus tapdancing Christ, you've been a helluva lot of trouble. Always pulling that 'escaping' bullshit. I thought you were supposed to be the easy-to-threaten one. Who would've thought you had so much fight in you?"

"Shut . . . the fuck up . . . " He tries to stand but stumbles and crashes down again. His fingers scrabble for the rock in his pocket. Revvie snatches it from his hand before he can inflict any damage and tosses it off to the side.

"Time to change the world, Craigy," he says. Then he sings out, "veni et surgere, renascentia," and everything starts to glow.

---

Craig's body lights up. He stares down at his skin in disbelief. Around him, the mirrors start to give off light. Revvie tips back his head and laughs as his own body glows. The walls hum. His rapid heartbeat echoes through his brain, setting a fast-paced beat. Panic erupts inside of him.

Revvie's reflections in the mirror start to solidify. They all stretch out their hands at once, fingers extending into the real world. Craig watches in horror as the reflections start to push their way out of their mirror.

There are waves and waves of reflections. Enough to dominate any army. They stretch infinity in the world behind the glass.

"No!"

Craig turns and doesn't have a time to react in shock. Kenny comes barreling out of nowhere, leaping onto Revvie's back and grabbing at his neck. His eyes are feverish and he bleeds from a dozen bullet wounds. Somehow, he's still moving.

"Motherfucker!" Revvie snarls. Still glowing, he shakes Kenny off and pushes him onto the ground. Kenny lands flat on his back and collapses onto the stone. His breathing is shallow, he stomach barely moving. He glares up at Revvie with nothing but hatred in his eyes. The two of them sneer at each other.

"You're the one who was supposed to be easy to kill," Revvie snaps. He pulls his assault rifle off his shoulders and pushes the safety off. "You should be dead by now. Any normal human would be dead. You're not normal. You're the asshole who dies constantly. What the fuck is up?"

Kenny smirks at him and coughs up a thick glob of blood. "I'm not any normal human," he says. "I'm Kenny McCormick, also known as Mysterion. I've fought worse creeps than you and I'm not going to die until I'm sure you're going down."

Revvie calmly points the assault rifle between Kenny's eyes and fires off a dozen rounds.

Kenny's skull explodes from the pressure. Chunks of brain and skull splatter out and coat Revvie's pants legs.

"Famous last words," he remarks. "Too bad it's a false promise- GRAHHHHH!"

Craig has his arms around Revvie's neck. He clambers onto his back, dragging his fingernails down his face, desperately clawing for the eyes. Revvie shakes and bucks, trying to throw him off, but Craig's not going to let go for anything. The reflections have one foot out in the real-world, halfway out of the glass.

Craig sinks his teeth into Revvie's neck and tears out chunks of flesh. He manages to hook his index finger into Revvie's right eye socket. Revvie screeches as he digs around, mushing the eye up and popping it right out of the socket. Veins tear.

"It wasn't a false promise," Craig growls into his ear. He finds the other eye socket and starts to dig in. Revvie starts to emit keening, primal sounds. "You're going down, motherfucker."

Then Revvie vanishes. Craig crashes down to the ground and lands next to Kenny's corpse. The reflections vanish. The glowing fades, leaving Craig in the tolerable light.

He closes his eyes. Blood stains his limbs and clothes. Kenny's corpse is already started to cool. The pain in his leg isn't tolerable, but there isn't anything he can do about it other than pass out.

---

Two weeks later, Kenny McCormick enters Craig's hospital room. He takes in Craig's appearance for a second. Heavily bandaged, his leg in a cast, looking pissed-off and bored. Standard Craig Tucker.

"Hey, dude."

Craig's eyes light up. Then he smirks. "You're alive."

"I brought you flowers." They're the scraggly, dead dandelions Kenny found buried under the snow in his yard. Hey, it's not like he can afford roses. They're in a cup full of tap water, and he places them on Craig's bedside table. Craig rolls his eyes.

"How's it going?" Kenny nods his head at the leg.

"Doctor's say I'll walk again, although I'm probably not going to be winning any track races any time soon. It's gonna be a couple months." Craig drops his math textbook on the bedside table next to the dandelions and leans his head back against the pillow. "They had to give me like three blood transfusions. They say if Stan and Kyle hadn't found me when they did, I would be dead."

"I don't really know all the details about that."

"They rented a friggin' helicopter and followed your blood trail in." Craig snickers a little. Then he sobers up and his expression goes back to bored.

Kenny rolls his eyes. He's seen Craig terrified, shocked, depressed, delusional, hopeful, lonely, and pissed-off. It's not like Craig's going to manage to convince him he's an emotionless asshole, even if everyone else believes it.

"I'm going to go into therapy," he adds.

"You? Craig Tucker? Therapy?" Kenny teases, then stops when he catches Craig's expression. He looks lonely again.

He kneels next to him and leans on the bed. "That's a good idea. I might join you."

Craig snorts, but Kenny can tell he's grateful for the proximity.

"Yeah, I think we both need it. But hey, I'm alive, you're in your usual kinda-alive state, and we can both return to our boring lives and never think about Peru ever again. Token and those guys smashed the mirror, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's over. Forever." Craig tips his head back and closes his eyes.

"You're the chosen one of who-knows-how-many ancient Incan Prophecies. I seriously doubt it's over forever."

"Shut up, McCormick."

---

There are four things in this world Craig Tucker cares about. His guinea pig, Stripes. The TV show Red Racer. His family. Four, his scruffy stoner of a best friend, Kenny McCormick.

---

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