A/N:PLEASE READ THIS UPDATE, PLEASE
For some reason, our beloved has canceled out the Italic and Bold print I used for Stan's spirit… voice… thingy. Really sorry about that. To make this chapter less confusing, I am just going to put his name at the beginning of his speech. Gah… retarded I know, but I dunno went wrong. You have my utmost apology dear readers!
I believe it is because some lines I wrote and then bold and italized whereas others I put the bold and italics up first and then wrote out his lines. Yet, I don't remember which lines those were. However I could be wrong. It could just be a weird design glitch on the uploaders parts.
I only noticed this after skimming my chapter. Thanks to thequillofdestiny for mentioning the confusion—otherwise I might not have noticed so soon. Again, I am dreadfully sorry for my inconsistent writing styles. The next chapter will also have this design, just in case. –sighs-
As of November 28, 2008
This is the second update. Apparently, also does not like to space my frickin' conversations between Stan and Kenny. I. Am. Pissed. As. Hell.
After I fixed one error… I now have to fix another. As a perfectionist—this is my idea of hell.
But thank you, Flacks, for telling me. At least in this hell I can fix this fricking thing…
thequillofdestiny: Oh, lol! Thank you so much. Haha, yeah, Kenny and I go on weird tangents. I'm glad that they somehow relate to you. Smurfs… oh, I miss that cartoon…
loozje: Well, my friend, wait no more!
Blitzdrake: -blushing profusely- Thank you very much. I'm ecstatic you're liking my story. Hehehe! You make my day every time I read a comment from you!
Bethany C. MacKenzie: Oh, well, thank you very much. Really, I just do my best. Love ze cliffhangers! XD
Hot Monkey Brain: God I freakin' love your user name! –twitch- I turn into a tweeker and shout it out each time I see it. Lmao… Oh… boy… I have issues. Well! Anyways, thank you, thank you. All these questions might be answered… sometime! Haha! Please enjoy this next chapter.
DollfaceConlon: Thanks so much! I anticipate to keep producing wonderful chappies for you. This one is extremely interesting (I believe)… Hehe! Hope you lieks it!
Warning: Gay stuff. Lots of it. And random bits of … supernatural.
Disclaimer: Me love South Park long time! Me no own though… me sigh.
Summary: Kenny freaks out big time. You learn the difference between astroprojection and out of body experiences and how Stan is involved. Magic is introduced to the plot. Cartman is sort of a heroic figure. Kenny is definitely a wounded hero, so love him dammit. Oh, and the evilness increases! Besides that, it's really more of a bridged chapter.
Remember:
"Blah" – Speech
Blah –Thoughts
Blah – Self Explanatory
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
CHAPTER NINE—Code of Hammurabi As Seen
I sat shaking for a least an hour. My knuckles had strands of piss yellow hair coiled in the tiny cracks of my skin from when I rocked back and forth in the fetal position. The sparkling white toilet bowl was burned into the back of my eyeballs. I could see it when I closed my lids.
Damien—for being the antichrist bastard that he is—was reprehensibly kind. He promised to find my hourglass, claiming it was the number one priority in Hell. God was notified as well. Then, warning me to stay alert, he left to give me some space. At first I just couldn't wrap my brain around what the guy said…
Then I got terrified.
No one knows what happens if hourglasses become smashed.
Mine is missing. Damien can't find it. Death can't find it. So it had to be taken, but why was it taken?!
So I got mad.
My wrists split open when I punched my way through the medicine cabinet in Kyle's bathroom. The mirror was now broken, pieces of glass embedded in my bones and gushing bloods; but I had long ago learned to ignore that. Pills from all sorts of orange bottles with child-lock caps clinked down the shiny sink and that's all I could register. I had sighed, feeling brine collect on the edge of my lashes. Desperation fuels stupidity.
Desperation wanted me to swallow all those pills here and now. Get it over with.
I just grabbed a bunch of them and blasted the sink. The knobs twisted effortlessly. I cupped my hands and scooped the icy water up into my cotton dry mouth. Copper, water, and fake cherry flavored aspirin coated my tongue. I got possibly seven handfuls of over-the-counter medicine in me until I noticed my fringe vision growing darker. I glanced down at my hands, not sure where they were anymore, when I saw that the sign marring my flesh was fucking glowing.
I realized I was dying for the last time. Broken pieces of mirror revealed glimpses of my face flushing and pupils dilating. I leapt for the toilet and jammed my fingers down my throat. I spewed up everything in my stomach. Just to be sure, I kept inducing my gag reflex until there was no bile left. As soon as blood poured freely, staining the porcelain candy cane pink, I turned away. I crawled over to the tub and curled in it.
(Stan) You gotta calm down Kenny…
"Shut up Stan," I grumbled, rubbing my shivering arms, "You're in a fucking coma."
(Stan) Fuck you man; I'm only trying to help.
It was said almost fondly, ringing in my ears. I laughed, squeezing my eyes closed. "God, I'm going insane…" That baritone voice made a snort and I ignored it.
I remember reading somewhere that acceptance was the final stage in grief. Not that I was in grief (more like mortal danger), but I was slowly getting over the fact the bad guy had my life-line literally in the palm of his grimy hands. Asshole. There was nothing I could do, short of finding this invisible jerk and ripping the damn hourglass from the cold dead fingers.
Shit.
"Kenny…" a soft, choked noise. I tensed almost, but recognized the voice. Whatever—or whoever—was in my head seemed to become relieved.
I swiveled my head upward, strands of damp hair clouding my line of sight. The redheaded genius was leaning against the door—the lock was scratched up and I noted the screwdriver that fell to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Wow... Must have locked the bathroom without knowing so.
Why did that startle me more than not hearing Kyle try to break into his own crapper?
"I hear you're boy-toy in my head…"
…
"Jeezy, you're fucking freaky Kenny," Kyle said, well more of grunted really, as he was reading the brain scan monitors. We had moved down in the basement where all the Medicare junk was set up. Immediately the bastard went to work looking at my brain. He hooked me up to the same machine he placed Stan on.
(Stan) You ought to tell him you're suicidal too.
The monitor had two more spikes, both in different regions of my brain or… well, hell. I can't read those damn squibbly lines (in red for me, blue for Stan—possibly, that's how I categorized it anyway). However, the Jew could, and his eyes widened as he spun his face away from the papers and toward my tired ass self. "What did he say?"
"That your ass looks fabulous in those jeans," I lied deadpan while rubbing at my right eye. The plugs for the monitor were suction-cupped to my head and moved as the forehead did. It felt really odd. Like I had a squid strapped to my brain. My hair was tickling the back of my neck and I kept having to brush it aside 'cause it irritated me.
(Stan) Jesus HP Christ! Stop that!
Hey, I'm doing you a favor bucko!
"Funny Kenny…" Kyle said to my prior comment, averting his eyes and looking at the monitor again. I shrugged, wanting to yank off the damned wires, but I couldn't until the redhead gave the okay. I blinked suddenly as my paranormal instinct kicked up. Or well, Stan's did I think, because next thing I know, I can just tell—actually more like feel—Kyle's embarrassment and anxiety and curiosity and…!
"Kenny, tell me again why you're squeezing my—"
"GAAAAAAAAAAH!" I shout and immediately let go of Kyle's round behind. I shake my hand rapidly, seeing the tattoo almost blend in with my skin tone; a trick of the eyes and mind is all. "Itburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsandburnsnandbuuuuuuuuuuuuurns!"
Kyle quickly struck me across the face and one of the cups popped off my head and dangled in front of my eyeballs as it was attached to the other thingy on my forehead (sorry, sorry, but I have no clue what medical equipment is called, all I know is sex… er, and how to come back to life of course, haha!).
"Shut up asshole! My butt is fine as hell and you had better bow down to its grace!"
"But I didn't do it! I swear, it was Stan!" I cried, cradling my hand to my chest protectively, "Get him out of me! Hurry before I look like that Linda Blair chick from the Exorcist!"
(Stan) KENNY!!
WHAT?! IT'S TRUE!
(Stan) YEAH, BUT DON'T TELL HIM THAT!
"I said hurry Kyle! He's taking controooooool!" I bemoaned. Kyle put his head in his hands and sighed as I burst into hysterics.
(Stan) You are so uncool, Kenny.
I know…So it hadn't taken too long for me to calm down. Kyle ripped off the damn sensors and now I have big red circles all over my face and head. I rubbed at them until they turned magenta. Well, it was certainly better than vivid burgundy at the moment.
"Astroprojection? Like the thing Damien does to get up here?" I echoed stupidly. Kyle shook his head and leaned back in that swivel chair (he was explaining to me how Stan might have made his way into my head). He was clicking away all the new info he found from my brain scans. Those emerald orbs fluttered up to me and Stan's interest was peaked instantly. I groaned inwardly but made no outward show of it just for the sake of not repeating the performance from earlier.
"Not really, that's a mental concept," the genius explained. I crossed my arms.
"I can't tell the damn difference."
"Well… astroprojection is your mental splitting of the sense of self. It can be seen and heard, perhaps even felt if you're that good. Basically like a spiritual clone you can control via your mind. Stan has just had an out of body experience. His soul left his body because of a near death situation," Kyle turned his screen toward me and gave me a visual of a cartoon. It was an old timey one yet again—maybe 1800—drawing of a man walking around a bed with himself clearly lying sickly under the covers. The Hebrew drew in the laptop and went back to work.
"Oh…" I said it because I felt like it was my turn to speak, but I had no clue what to say.
(Stan) Okay, great. Must be because I felt the death around me… What happens now that I'm out of my own body?
"So, what does this… disembodiment mean for your fuck bunny?" I asked and as an after thought I added, "Stan's point, not mine."
Kyle didn't twitch at my commentary, he just put up emotional shields so Stan wouldn't figure out how he was feeling, and thus, I would feel it. Wonderful. I'm a conduit for the empath.
"He either returns to his body or…" Kyle faded off; the clacking paused as his finger hovered over the keyboard.
(Stan) Shit, don't tell me...
The computer screen twisted to me once more. A clipart picture of a tombstone with RIP in bold and basic colors leered up at me. Stan groaned from inside my head, probably huddling inside himself. Maybe he should have asked not to have it shown either?
A light bulb (metaphorically of course) went off in my head and I jumped down from the squishy cot Kyle had forced me to sit on. "Hey, do you know why Stan chose me to hang out in?"
"Huh?" Kyle blinked, head snapping to me sharply.
(Stan) I didn't chose you…
Then why the hell are you in my fricking head?!(Stan) I thought I was waking up, there was a bright light I was moving towards and—
Aw, that cheesy plot device used in death scenes and religious movies???(Stan) No jerkward! Augh! I dunno what the hell it was! All I know is I'm in class, being bored as heck, when it feels like I'm being ripped apart from the inside out… and I can just feel the screaming from those dying—or worse—around me. I panicked. I wanted to get away from it. My power wouldn't shut off. So I ran… or, I thought I did… Now that I can recall, it seemed as if I was just flying.
Having no body can certainly do that to you.
(Stan) I just sort of… kept going. I lost track of time… I just knew though, that something was wrong. I could feel that too. Negative intentions toward YOU. So I tried to find you. I did. When you killed that imp. I rushed to keep you from killing it, thinking I could push you out of the way, but I just sort of… merged into you. Must have been during that shock you had… I remember your eyes. Wide and full of tears. I could feel your sympathy for what you had done… and then… the white light thing happened.
Crap…
"KENNY!" Kyle slammed his hands together on the side of my face harshly, making those pink circles burn red all over again, but it shot me from whatever trance I was in. "You were just talking to Stan, right?"
"Yeah. He just told me a bunch of…" I hesitated. There was an inky feeling in the pit of my stomach. I clutched the fabric of my shirt instinctively, waiting out a tension that seeped into me from nowhere.
It grew more concentrated, like someone pushing out waves of velvet and coating the room in a sticky substance—but there was nothing. Just the movement of the wind. Cold. Deadly. The fuck is this…?
"Kenny…?" Kyle's voice sounded isolated and heavy. As if he was having trouble forcing my name into the air.
"I think someone is watching us…" I furrowed my brows.
Have you had this feeling before Stan?My body shuddered as Stan did.
(Stan) No… at least… nothing this… noxious.
What is it?(Stan) I don't know… why would someone—
Could this be who I think it is?
I gasped because Stan did. Kyle flinched, waiting for me to finish whatever I was doing.
(Stan) The Lover?
Who else would do this?(Stan) But why worry over you, Kenny? Why would he watch you?
Why would he put a curse on me?(Stan) C'mon, we don't know its him!
I know but… the hourglasses, the imp, the curse! If it's not the Lover then who else would want to cause such chaos?! I… I don't know what else to think…
(Stan) Kenny… I know you're worried but…
How is it only I seem to know Armageddon is pounding on our door?!
Kyle shook his head, and my eyesight dimmed a bit. My friend swayed and rested his hand on the top of the cherry desk he was using. It was a bit harder to breath and for some reason it seemed as if my ears were ringing.
"K-Kyle… what is this…?" I questioned. My phone blared loudly from my pocket. I glanced down. In my pocket of my dingy jeans I could see the soft blue glow of my cell. I reached down indolently and fumbled to release it from inside the tight cloth. I just watched the surface of the phone for a second, the name not coming to mind at all.
(Stan) SNAP OUT OF IT!
I practically dropped my phone as Stan's powers folded over me vehemently. He blocked a brunt of the force pushing down on me. Kyle's eyes became jaded as he tried to gaze about the room. Warily I watched him, glancing down at the phone as it suddenly stopped ringing.
(Stan) This is witchcraft!
Witchcraft? Who is using magic against us? And what for? We don't worry about the wiccans.
(Stan) No, idiot! Not these new feminist bitches running around naked under the moon—I'm talking real live magic used to summon up bad shit man! Remember that asshole trying to call up that snake lady?
Oh! Oh! Lamia! Yeah, I remember that one. Dude was fucked up.
(Stan) But he did find an old text. He wasn't just crazy.
He wanted her to give him the gift of second sight, yeah, I know. What about it?
(Stan) This magic is on par with Lamia's!
WHAT?! B-B-But!
My phone was almost shrill now and I could feel the air around me tighten like a vice. Kyle's asthma inhaler clattered to the ground and I froze to see him clawing at his throat. I dove to the floor and scooped it up. Shoving the tip in his chapped mouth, I squeezed the top down, helping him bring air back to his sprained lungs. The phone that I had accidentally dropped on it's side got jarred enough to answer the call. I could hear a voice screaming from the top of its lungs at me:
"GO TO THE DAMN CHURCH!"
That was Cartman's voice. Damn if I wasn't so freakin' happy to hear his voice! Must have had a vision… Probably in the church too… but—oh!
Sanctuary! Right! Magic and hollowed ground doesn't mix!
I tugged Kyle up and began shoving him toward the door. I left my phone, not caring at all. The fact was I was completely terrified. Who ever was… attacking I guess… they weren't taking no for an answer.
This has never happened before…! WAAAAAAAAAAAH! I'm just supposed to send these bastards back to hell!
Kyle was sluggish, and the whole scatter-brained attempt to get to the church was really just me jogging through the damp and eerie streets dragging my pal behind me. The frosty wind cracked and seemed to laugh at me. I was shaking from the temperature and rattled nerves.
Owls hooted at me from the branches, eyes glowing yellow like moons. A few cars trucked by, beams from headlights dazing me. I kept plowing on. My teeth grit angrily and I could feel my molars being ground down. Kyle kept tripping over his own feet and into my back. Growling, I eventually just threw him over my shoulder and broke out into a run.
I don't remember exactly where I heard it before, but you should know; never—ever, never, ever, ever!—run from anything magical, whether it be good or bad. It rates right up there with never eat anything from a faerie realm.
Really bad shit happens.
Like, super bad shit.
As soon as I hauled ass, the owls leapt from the branches, swooping down at me in a flurry of rusty beaks and blood-brown feathers. I placed my hands over Kyle's face and hoped to the lord that his clothes were thick enough so he couldn't feel anything. Screeches penetrated the air; making my feet grow absurdly hot. Fuck, I wanted out!
I gasped because abruptly, crimson reflective eyes glowered at me a few centimeters from my face. Trust it to me to just focus on running instead of where I'm going. I glared back and paused, ignoring as Kyle twitched, tiny rivulets of blood soaking into my shirt collar. A couple more of the rats-with-wings rammed into my body, causing me to grunt, but I held my ground stubbornly.
"Move!" I demanded, tattooed hand clenching. It felt like it was a brand—melting into my own skin. The wind around me whipped my hair across my face. I didn't break eye contact with whatever was floating before me. I didn't actually see it… just the eyes…
I could see my frightened sea orbs widened as I recognized my face in those dreadful things.
It… wanted me.
I cried out as something lunged forward, talons reached out toward me. I stumbled, batting to get away and keep the drugged genius still on my shoulder. Of course it couldn't work.
A claw, soft and pale, seemed to place itself over my left eye… the black tipped nails created jagged lines over my brow. I sucked in a breath of air at the same time the muscles tensed in the hand. Then they dug themselves in my eye socket. A swift yank was all it took my left eye to loose its vision. Pain thudded like molasses in my veins; my mind couldn't seem to understand why I couldn't see.
I could feel my other eye's pupil dilate. A cherry forked tongue licked at my absent eyeball. Talons dangled the blue orb by the muscles and tendons; it swung in the bursts of little cyclones around us. Red eyes slid toward me, and that tongue was sucked back inside a pair of luscious lips.
"Ah ah! You can't see me yet…" a melodious voiced tsked from inside the tantalizing mouth. Immediately, I swathed my empty socket with my free hand, like that could somehow save my already begotten eye.
"Y-You…!" I accused. My sides ached just at the thought of that nightmare from the before.
"Me indeed, Kenneth darling."
Faster than lightning, I could feel that sinful palm resting on my other eyeball.
"No—!" I screamed, but it was too late. "ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Darkness was my only vision. Just as before.
(Stan) You don't need them! Run!
(Stan) Run!
(Stan) Run!
(Stan) RUN!
I don't know how I did; I just did. I bounded up, and barreled through the shrieking birds. The gorgeous figure chuckled, not following, but the laughter clung to my skin like oil. I was huffing as Stan's reverent tone echoed in my head. I could hear the moans from Kyle on my shoulder, taste the condensation in the air, smell my sweat dripping off me, and feel the cement under my house slippers shift and dip and change to the road.
You lose the meaning of time when you are perpetually stuck in shadows.
I didn't dare count my footsteps or all the turns my spirit dwelling friend demanded of me. My lungs strained, but I just kept going. Fermentation in my legs bubbled up into me and I felt like I was wading through clouds. The thick smell of copper hurt me deeply as the substantial amount of blood started to freeze to my face.
I was in bad shape.
(Stan) Hurry, the church is just a few paces in front of you! Get ready!
I burst forward, head down as I charged, arms wildly striking out in the air.
(Stan) Start jumping up the steps!
The steps, if I could summon up a correct memory, were not that many and not too big, but it took all my strength to hurdle forward and raise my feet. My toes barely scraped the entranced of the threshold. My hand batted at one of the closed doors, jerking most of my body to the side.
Soon, I was spinning. I crowded in; bringing Kyle into my front and making sure I could shield him from any harm. I hit the floor and rolled, yelping as I could feel myself skimming the wooden floorboards and finally smacking into the pews, knocking a few of them over from the sounds of splintering wood and heavy reverberating thunks. Something crashed on top of me and I hid the Jewish boy in my arms.
He was coughing into my shirt, nails somehow finding all the holes in it and digging into my skin, while he groaned. I couldn't tell if he was all right at all. Faintly, I could hear footsteps. I maneuvered the pews off on me, but still lingered over Kyle's body just in case.
"H-Hey…"
No answer. I couldn't see and Stan's voice was hushed. I tossed my head back. Golden hair messily flying in tendrils all around my face. "ERIC!" I called and the steps increased in rhythm. I fell back, using something blocky to support my fatigued body from not passing over.
Then… the noises all round me halted instantly. A gasp was the only sign of life.
"P-Please… help me…" was all I could murmur.
As I said previous, when you're blind you don't really know how much time has passed. It's endless and dragging… or fleeting and not there are all. You just cannot tell. Absently, I wondered if it was possible for me to cry.
But… well, all I know was that I was dragged somewhere to lie down. I stared without eyes at what I thought was probably the ceiling. My face was scrubbed and pretty soon all the congealed bodily fluids were off my face. Someone tucked in a breath of air but wouldn't discharge it. I closed my lids and then they scooted their chair back and left the room quickly.
(Stan) It stained your cheeks for now, Ken. You look like you're crying blood.
Who the hell was that Stan?
(Stan) I don't know… and they want it to stay that way.
I agreed with that statement in full. Fuck. We are in way over our heads. What the fuck can I do?! I sighed, trying to release my panic. It didn't work too well, but I had to have a clear head to think.
Oh Jesus! Like that could help any. I have absolutely no idea what is going on…
I must have slipped off into dreamland because the next thing I know, someone's calloused hands are rousing me awake by haphazardly shaking my shoulder. My lids spontaneously open, but nothing came to my eyes, making me remember I did not have them anymore.
Crap! I just can't use up all my power trying to heal myself. It's gonna take a couple of days to get it back up to filled. I'm wasting all my spiritual energy up!
(Stan) You can always borrow some of mine.
Thanks but no thanks, it takes a lot out of you.
(Stan) Offer's still there.
My attention was launched back to whomever it was squeaking out in terror. My head bobbed downward, but still rotated in whatever direction the sound was coming from.
"Jesus…! Cartman was right," that tenor voice rang out. Kyle.
"You alright?" I croaked.
"Peachy. A couple of scratches and a bit tired, but I'm a whole lot better than you," he whispered. I scoffed and rolled my lower half off what I am assuming in a cot. My feet uncertainly tapped on the ground.
"I'm blind," I said with an irate undertone. I wrapped my arms over my torso, discovering, once more, I have no shirt on. Why does that keep happening? "I ain't deaf. Don't get all shy on me know. I'll just have Stan tell me how you're feeling."
"He's still in there?"
"Yeah…"
A ragged sigh escaped Kyle and then the cot suddenly shifted to the side. Kyle must have sat down next to me.
"What happened last night?" he questioned. I shrugged, but mentally noted it must be morning now by the way Kyle was speaking.
"I think we just met who is behind everything…" I answered.
"What does that mean?" Kyle asked. I turned on instinct toward him. I got the vibes I shouldn't have done that as the weight from the bed lightened. I growled to myself as my fist curled into the sheets of what I was sitting on. "Don't try to stare at me."
"I didn't mean to ass! I did it because it's an automatic reaction!" I shouted and stood swiftly, "If you don't like it, don't stare at me!"
Kyle backed up—it was like for a second I could see it clearly, his back hitting a mahogany door with a startled look on that pale face, but then the scene disappeared entirely. It took a second from me to realize I had initially caused that reaction. My hand flew up to my mouth as if I wasn't sure why I was angry.
(Stan) Kenny! Did you just see—
I pivoted on my heel and slammed my hands down on the uncomfortable cloth. My fists bundled into the rough material. I pulled it apart, hearing a satisfying rip. Rage. Why was I feeling like this…?
"Where you're eyes should be… I saw… red orbs…" Kyle's voice held disbelief. I wanted to turn my head back to him, but I stopped myself a few inches short. My fingers dug into the strips of what I hoped was a bed spread. I shut my lids tightly. I was so stupid.
"Red orbs? Fuck…" I was talking to myself.
I don't think who ever visited us last night just wanted to make sure I wouldn't know who they were…
(Stan) What do you think they wanted then?
I know they desired me… to control me maybe. Ever heard the phrase, "The eyes are the windows to the soul?"
(Stan) You don't think…?
I do. How do you think you got in?
Stan was silent. I smirked, but it was overwrought in dejectedness. I seized a long strand of the cloth in my hand. I folded it to a thick rectangle shape as well as I could without sight. I brought it up to my face slowly and tied it over my eyeless sockets.
"The Lover is trying to control me, Kyle," I informed him gravely. "I saw whoever it was. It stole my eyes… Like in my dream."
"What?! But, Kenny… why?" his voice grew softer and I could feel those jade eyes inspecting me.
I gazed right at him for a second and then stalked out, going on nothing but faith.
"I don't know, but find out."
Under no circumstances was I going to be a damned puppet! Especially not when I had plans with Butters.
TBC…
A/N: Fun, yes?
Yeah. I keep mutilating Kenny. Sorry. I did warn people though, did I not? Anyways…
No Bunny action really, but we'll get to it. More will be explained in the next chapter. I have huge plot points coming up soon, so read carefully…