Cinnamon walked confidently down the hallway, twisting the silver ring in his palm. It's warm now, but still wonderfully nice to hold. His meeting with Stan went well and he holds back a squeal of delight. He calls out for the worker and is responded with silence. Immediately, he knows something is wrong. He slides the ring onto his finger and walks slower. His happiness evaporates with each echoing step until he comes to his room. Cinnamon stares at the door. He's not sure if he wants to open it.

He does it anyway.

"Hello, Cinnamon, looking lovely as ever." Cartman purrs. The prostitute's eyes are glued to the unconscious blonde lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Tape covers his eyes and his cheeks are covered in mud. Cinnamon almost vomits as the worker gives a twitch of pain. "Take a seat, quick, if you please."

Shivering, he complies, feeling the ring slipping from his hand to clatter on the dusty floor. Cinnamon watches as Cartman's eyes follow its descent before he rushes forward, pushing the large man to the floor as he screams bloody murder.

-The Story of a Stripper Named Cinnamon

When Tweek walked through the door, he was tackled by all 160 pounds of Craig Tucker. Hot, messy kisses are pressed to his face as he is squeezed. "I love you." The man mumbles against his cheek. "I love you, I love you, you stupid, spazzy, prideful idiot." Tweek wriggles in the hold only to be hugged tighter.

"Can't breathe." He gasps. "Craig! Stop!"

"Hm?" The man snuggles into the crook of his neck. "What?"

"Air!"

Craig stands up and spins him around, laughing. "We don't need air; we have love, Tweeky, love!"

He presses a kiss to his head and inhales his scent before dropping him in shock. Tweek lands hard on the floor and rubs his stinging arms. Craig's nose is wrinkled and he stares down at the blonde with narrowed eyes. Tweek's lips are swollen and red, with faint bite marks down his neck. He smells like sweat and sex. "Craig?"

"You were with someone before you came here."

Tweek swallows. This confrontation was bound to happen someday. "Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Did you at least use protection?" Tweek makes a noise in the back of his throat and the surprised, frightened look is enough of an answer for him. "Do you know how dangerous that is?" He yells. "You don't know if that guy was infected, or if he was some kind of psycho! He could have done something to you, Tweek, he could have raped you, or given you AIDS!"

"Okay, one, the only way to rape a prostitute is not giving them money afterwards and second, you don't catch AIDS. You get HIV and it progresses into AIDS if you don't get treatment for it. And even then it takes years." Craig's eye twitches.

"I love you Tweek but sometimes I feel like it would be better if I bashed your head into a coma and kept you in my basement."

"Am I interrupting something here?" Kyle asks awkwardly from the doorway. "Because I can just come back later, you know."

"Not now, Kyle." Tweek snaps. The Jew waits, counting on his fingers. "Wait. Holy shit. Kyle!"

"There we go." The ex-prostitute laughs as he's pushed to the floor by an overexcited Tweek. He stops laughing when instead of being hugged; a fist smashes into his cheek.

"You bastard!" Tweek screams. "How dare you!"

"Tweek! Urk! Jesus, get the fuck off me! That hurts!"

"That's what she said!" The blonde screams furiously, driving his nails into Kyle's ear and twisting. "I am going to kill you!" Craig wraps his arms around Tweek's waist and tries to yank him away. "Lay off, Tucker! I'm about to make the Holocaust look like a children's birthday party!" Craig tosses the struggling blonde over his shoulder and walks into the other room, dropping him on the bed and locking the door behind him.

"There's booze in the fridge, Kyle! We'll be out in a minute!"

"Okay!" Kyle struggles up off the floor and looks around the apartment. He sighs. Well, this is going smashingly…

"Now. We're going to do this one of two ways. One, you tell me what I want to know or," he sits down on the bed and wraps an arm around Tweek in a vice grip. "I go outside, we send Kyle away and pretend nothing ever happened."

"Send him away."

"You've been writing letters for years, the one day he shows up, you go bat-shit. Care to tell me why?"

"No."

"Tweek."

"No.

"Tweek."

"Fine. It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"It. Life. My situation. Did you know Flame's having a baby?"

"Who's Flame?"

"A friend of mine. She might be pregnant. Kyle, you can come in, I promise not to hurt you." The Jew walked in, sipping wine from a mug with the Beatles done on the side and ABBEY ROAD written in rainbow letters around the brim. "Yet." he adds when Kyle is close enough for him to drag down into the bed.

"Flame's knocked up?" He asks, pale as snow.

"Yeah, she might be. I talked to Rose before I left; she's going to a doctor today."

Kyle collapses on the bed and chugs the rest of his beverage, wiping his mouth. "We're fucked." He whispers. "Fucked to god-damned kingdom come."

"Yup." Craig notices that Tweek's hand clamps over his tightly, as if he's afraid. "What are we going to do?"

"Cartman doesn't let his bitches carry kids. If he finds out, Flame's going to get an abortion, even if Cartman has to knock her out and drag her there." Kyle says woodenly.

"Flame's going to be crushed."

"Why can't she leave?" Craig asks angrily. "Why can't all of you leave? What's one man going to do?"

"He'll find us, Craig. He might not find all of us but he'll find enough of us to reopen and then he'll make us tell him where the others' are."

"What could he do?" Tweek looks Craig straight in the eye.

"I don't know. You can never know with Cartman. He's not right, Craig,"

"Well, Flame can come live with me."

"Craig, okay, I love you, but you have to stop offering to house prostitutes. People are going to think something's up with you." Tweek deadpans.

"I'm serious. She can stay here until she has the baby. Then she can do whatever she wants to do after that. If she wants to stay, let her. If she doesn't, I'll keep the baby."

"Craig," Kyle says, "I don't think you understand what you're going up against. Cartman is a-"

"I think it's a great idea." Tweek cut in. "Think of it, Flame has no idea who Craig is, she's never mentioned him, no one except you and I know about him. Cartman would never figure it out."

"We're not asking for your permission," Craig adds, "we're doing this either way, your approval or not, but it would really mean a lot if you agreed to do this."

Kyle looks from his friend, who almost pierced his ears with his sharp ass nails to the man who had tried to beat him over the head with a chair because he thought he was Cartman coming for Tweek. He sighs and smiles. "I'll call Stan and tell him I'm staying a little longer." This time, Tweek meant no harm when he tackled the Jew.

NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW;

Flame gasped in surprise as a hand clamps over her mouth and drags her into the alleyway. She tries to scream as she stares into the eyes of the man. He is tall with dark hair and a regal way of holding himself. "I mean you no harm." He whispers in her ear. "I need to find someone named Pip. Can you help me? Please?" She struggles out of his hold and almost runs. He doesn't look like a bad person. He looks worried and lonely. She gnaws on her lip before taking a rough tanned hand in hers. He dwarfs her and she walks in his shadow as she leads him away.

"Follow me."