y'all i got a really bad memory save me;;; feel FREE to comment if u want updates! i am a lazy sloth
Part Four
There was a very strange scent from where Stan was, but he couldn't place it. It was almost like a mix between blood... and raw sewage? Whatever it was, it was terribly foul and as he fumbled around in the dark, he hoped he wasn't stepping in it.
There was only dim light and it wasn't enough to allow him to recognize much of the room. Where was this, he thought worriedly. Last thing he remembered was being on call on Skype and then, all of the sudden, he was here. A small box of a room where he couldn't for the life of him, find a door or an exit or anything of the like. It didn't seem to be a particularly large room either.
"Fuck!" he yelled as more panic began settling in. "Where the fuck am I!?"
That was when a voice answered him from nowhere, and everywhere. "Stan Marsh." It was a vaguely familiar voice, but again, he couldn't place it. "The game has begun."
"What? What game!?" he yelled again, only to get no response, but instead, his attention turned left, where a bright light could be seen through the cracks of... a door? Whatever it was he ran toward it as fast as he could, nearly tripping over himself once or twice along the way. He was petrified, but he had to keep going. Wherever he was, it was clear someone had brought him here for a purpose. What was it... a game? That was what he said, wasn't it?
When he reached the door, he put a hand on it, pushing until it cracked open and then, there was light. Of course, like in the room, it wasn't very bright. Torches were lined up along the walls, giving off a dim yellow light down each corridor. From where he was standing, there were three ways to go. One left, one right, and one down. Before he could choose any way, though, a small slip of paper appeared in front of him. Without thinking, he just grabbed it, reading it as quickly as he could. "A life... for a life?" he whispered in a cracked voice. What did that even mean? Someone was going to die? He shoved the note into his pocket and looked around. The decision had to be made.
"When in doubt... go down?" he didn't quite believe himself, but he began walking down despite that. Maybe he would come across something familiar... or someone.
.0.0.0.
"Where the fuck'd Stan go?" Eric muttered to the rest of the call.
"Oh, shit guys, I gotta go! Dad made tacos," Clyde said hurriedly into the microphone. All they heard after that was him get up and run out of the room.
"Hell if I know," Kenny replied, "he answered the survey. Maybe it was a virus. Bye Clyde!"
"Did you guys answer it yet?" Kyle asked.
"Hell naw," Eric's constant clicking told that truth.
By this time, everyone had the little survey pop onto their screen, even Tweek, who had just opened his laptop moments ago. The only one to allegedly fill in the box, however, was the missing Stan. "W-what do we -ngh- do!? What if it fries my computer!? What if it's the government! They'll see all-"
"Tweek, shut the fuck up," Craig sighed. "All you do on that thing is read and browse tumblr. What the hell do you think they're going to find?"
"More importantly, I don't want to get a virus," Kyle said, matter-of-factly.
"Maybe his mom just called him down for dinner or some shit," Eric said. "I'm starting to get pissed off. I'm gonna answer the damn thing and be done with it. Let's all just do the same. I mean honestly, what's the worst that could happen? Don't be pussies."
"Let's all do it at the same time, then," Kenny chimed in. "And if something bad happens, like a virus, I know a guy."
"Of course you do," Eric snorted.
Kenny didn't bother dignifying that with a response. So, hesitantly, the remaining boys filled out the survey question with their secret last wishes. Things they'd never told anyone, or things they desperately wanted to get their hands on. Whatever it was, they filled it in and clicked enter. At first, like Stan, nothing happened, so sighs of relief were heard in unison, until the inevitable happened. It was like the outside world ceased to exist or time stopped and it was so much pressure that it knocked each and every one of them out.
Some would say it hurt, some would say they heard a high pitched whistle sound, the rest would say they just fainted without a word. However it happened, it happened.
It started for everyone the same it started for Stan. A small block of a room, dark as night. A vaguely familiar voice... the crack of the door... then a note. Everyone's said something different depending on what, exactly it was that they wished for. This is how it started, though. A game gone way too far.
"What the hell am I supposed to do in this crack house," Eric mumbled to himself, walking down the corridor with his hands in his pockets. There was only down to go, so he wasn't given much choice in his circumstance. He just kept walking until he noticed a door to his left. "Oh?" a quick glance in all directions before he decided to open it. He didn't want any surprises, so he was cautious.
"...What the fuck?"
"Cartman!?"
"Stan?!"
The two boys looked at each other for a brief moment, tense and obvious worry in their eyes. Stan had been in that room for god knows how long, and since he could remember, all doors disappeared the moment he stepped inside. "Quick, keep the door open!" he yelled, pointing, but it was too late. The door was gone once more. "Fuck!"
"What the fucking shitting hell is going on right now, Stan? I'm seriously!"
"How would I know!? I just... filled out that stupid survey and then the next thing I knew, I was trapped in here..." he ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do! The door disappeared so we're..." he trailed off again, thinking about the paper in his pocket. In that moment, he felt like he understood. What it was they were meant to do. He said it was a game, right? So... these papers... are tasks? In order to progress, like any game... you have to do given tasks. His eyes widened. Did that mean he had to kill someone!?
"Hello?" Eric started calling at the spot the door once was. "Someone get your ass over here!"
Even if he did have to kill someone, he had no weapon! And he wasn't strong enough to do it with bare hands... There was no way... But then of course, as if the game maker was reading his mind, he felt something appear in his sweater pocket. He was almost too scared to look, but he did anyway, gently reaching a hand in and feeling... a gun?
Stan's eyes grew wide. No... no... no way... This couldn't be happening... Did they expect him to shoot Eric?! They couldn't! They were friends!
A life for a life. The task echoed in his head. His wish... It was for Kyle to live, but apparently, he couldn't do that without taking the life of someone else. But did that mean that his wish would be granted? Would Kyle be given an extra life? Well, it was Eric's kidney that saved him before, maybe it was destiny Eric would be the one to die. If it was fate, then it was okay, right?
To be completely honest, the moment he took his first steps in this strange place, a part of Stan cracked. Maybe it was his hope, maybe it was his sanity, but he was finding it increasingly easier to imagine killing Eric if it meant saving Kyle. That didn't mean he wanted to, but he had to, right?
He clutched the gun, still holding it inside his pocket. He was getting nervous and starting to sweat. Actually killing a real person... That was nothing like how it was in a video game.
"Helloooooo!" Eric shoved his face against the wall. "Christ almighty, are you shits deaf!?"
Stan felt this voice inside him, telling him quietly to just do it. It'd be simple and fast. He wouldn't know what hit him. He was never nice to you anyway, so what's the problem? Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead and the hand holding the gun began shaking hard as he pulled it out of his pocket. Yes, that's right. He's not looking. Go ahead. He lifted his hand, pointing the gun at Eric's head. He'd fired a gun many times before with his uncle Jimbo, but at a human... never. His breathing hitched as he tried to make out an apology. Maybe this was all a dream. "I can't do it," he whispered.
"Can't do what, fag?" Eric mumbled, feeling around the wall for some sort of switch. Then, he turned around, noticing Stan pointing a gun at him and immediately looking like he'd just seen a ghost. "Whoa, what the fuck are you doing!?"
Stan couldn't even make out a word before Eric was running at him. He knew he wouldn't hesitate to grab the gun right out of his hands and shoot him for even thinking about it. It was that horrible thought that pressed him into pulling the trigger. Though, naturally he was so petrified, he missed.
Eric flew at him, grabbing the wrist that was holding the gun, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"I-" he still couldn't get the chance to speak, because Eric started throwing punches. Stan dodged the first few, but after that he was getting repeatedly hit until the gun flew out of his hand. Punch after punch anywhere Eric could hit. In the chest, the face, the stomach. All until he got tired and started breathing heavier himself.
Everywhere in Stan's body ached and he was sure his nose and lips were bleeding, but somehow he just knew that he had to do it now. It was the only chance out of here and it was the last one he was going to get. With his last remaining strength, he kicked Eric off of him, quickly reaching for the gun. Before the bigger guy could react, two shots were fired. The first in the leg and the second in the head when he'd realized he missed.
Eric fell to the ground within a few seconds and that's when the reality of what he'd done kicked in. He let out this horrified shriek, holding his head with his hands. "No! I didn't... I... Oh god!" Eric was right, he was a pussy, but not in the way he imagined.
It took him a long while to pull himself together, even after he noticed the door crack open again. He knew it would stay, so there was no point running out. All he could do was sit next to the body that once belonged to Eric Cartman. He'd closed his eyes and whispered an apology over and over again, even though the boy could no longer hear him.
"I'm so sorry, Cartman... I'm so fucking sorry..." he covered his eyes again. He shouldn't have promised Kyle those things. He shouldn't have vowed to live for him, because if he hadn't, Eric would still be alive and this wouldn't have happened.
He stood up, shaking and staggering back and forth for a moment. Taking one last look at Eric's limp body, he slowly walked out of the room. He felt clammy and sick to his stomach, but he knew he had to keep going. If Eric was down here, there was a chance the others were as well... He had to move forward.
