Ｈｉ ｇｕｙｓ！ Ｓｏｒｒｙ， ａｍ Ｉ ｌａｔｅ？ Ｈａｖｅ ａ ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ！
Kyle was lying at the museum's entrance covered in his own blood and it was entirely Eric's fault. Stan let out a horrible scream and this was when Eric knew he had to make his escape. He rushed to the doors just seconds before Stan reached Kyle and ran for it. He ran to the meeting spot as fast as he possibly could, pushing back the memory of what he just did. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it, especially not now.
He could hear Stan screaming after him just long enough to run into the woods and to the clearing. It wouldn't be long before police cars arrived at the scene and so they had to move fast.
"Everyone, into the car. Now!" he yelled, motioning to the dark vehicle.
"What happened?" Kevin asked as they all climbed inside.
"Nevermind. I'll talk later." Eric jumped into the front seat and started the engine, pulling out of the clearing and down the road. He drove quickly and in silence for the rest of the ride. Everyone was curious as to what had gotten Eric into such a frenzy but they didn't dare speak. If they did, there was no telling what would happen to them.
So they were silent. All seven of them. Red, Kevin, Craig, Tweek, Kenny, Eric and Clyde, who'd managed to make it back safe enough, aside a few risky grazes.
Once Eric thought they were safe enough, hours had passed and they were in a small town. Red booked them two rooms for a few nights and they'd all rushed upstairs. Kenny motioned everyone inside the room he, Eric and Clyde were sharing and he shut the door.
"Okay, we can talk now," Kenny said.
"Good because I'm confused as hell," Red snapped. "What happened back there? Do you have the painting?"
Eric pulled the case out of his bag. "Here, it's here, okay?" As he took a look at the case, he was able to momentarily forget about Kyle. He was happy. He'd finally gotten it. All their hard work was worth it and for a moment, he let himself smile.
The rest of the team took this as their cue to start grinning like idiots and cheering. Kenny chuckled, shaking his head and ran to the mini fridge to grab some pop cans out. (Unfortunately, there was no beer.) He passed the cans around and received more smiles and goofy laughs. Everyone was happy. But everyone didn't know about what really went down that night and as Eric retreated to the bathroom to let the others have their fun, thoughts of Kyle's shocked face popped into his head once more.
It wasn't like letting other people have fun was his kind of thing. He'd rather pull everyone else down with this fact too, but he didn't want them to know. He didn't want them to know how fucking bad he felt about it.
Why did he feel bad? Kyle was just some stupid Jew, right? So why was he so conflicted, so guilty?
He ran the icy water and grabbed a washcloth from the shelf, letting it soak up the cold before he washed his face, shivering slightly.
He leaned against the countertop and stared at his face in the mirror. His hair was messy and knotted, his eyes were bloodshot and dark. His expression showed anger. He truly looked like a murderer. Well, he was one after all. He was.
What if he really did kill Kyle? He didn't know if he could live with that guilt.
God damn, he was Eric Cartman! Why did he feel this shitty!?
A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts.
"What?"
"It's me," Kenny answered. Kenny. Of course it was Kenny.
"What do you want?"
"Open the door."
"No."
"Eric, open this God damn door, you motherfucking idiot."
Eric narrowed his eyes but opened the door despite that. "What do you want, Kenny?"
"Something else went down tonight. What was it?" he entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "You have that look in your eyes."
Eric figured if he could tell anyone, it would be Kenny. Not like he wanted to rely on the man, but some advice from time to time wasn't always a bad idea.
"I shot him and I don't know if he's even alive. I shot Kyle and he could be dead. I shot him and then I ran."
Kenny's eyes widened only momentarily. He cleared his throat, nodding slowly. "I see. Was there anyone else around? Anyone that called the police or an ambulance?"
"That ass Stan was there," Eric said.
"Then Kyle is probably in the hospital. You couldn't have killed him."
"Couldn't is never in my vocabulary. Why would it decide to be now? Fucking gun. I swear it wasn't loaded."
"That... must have been Butters... He told me he was loading extra guns. I didn't really think anything of it, though," he rubbed his head. "Sorry, man. But don't worr... Wait, you're worried?"
"Fuck, I don't know. The only other time I've ever felt like this is when those people with butts for faces came to South Park. What the hell, I don't know what this is."
"Remember, Kyle told you that you felt guilty. Eric, it makes sense. You feel bad because you really do care about him."
"Shut up, no I don't," he grumbled.
"You do, whether you care to admit it or not," Kenny said as he opened the door once more. "Anyway, you'd better call Ike. It's time."
Eric hissed at him. He knew it was time.
Ike answered within seconds, practically screaming. "Eric, how'd it go!?"
"It went fine," he muttered. He couldn't bring himself to tell Ike that he'd shot his brother. There's no way Ike would deliver that way. "It's time."
"Okay, I'm on it," Ike said. "Just give me a few minutes."
Just as he had done before with President Obama, Ike was about to perform another round of fake deaths. Eric had prepared a plane to leave the country, see, and there were to be some "technical difficulties." Unfortunately, the engine would heat up and smoke would start to appear, but nobody noticed in time and before they knew it, flames arose. Alas, their getaway would blow up.
This was Ike's final job. To make sure the world "knew" that Eric Cartman, Kenny McCormick and Clyde Donovan were "dead." These three were the three that police had been after for this long. Fortunately, after everything was over, Red, Kevin, Craig and Tweek could go back to their normal lives and not fear that Eric might contact them again. This was it. It was over and this is why everyone could really smile as they were.
Even that idiot Butters could go back to his normal life, though he'd probably fear Eric forever, which was exactly how Eric wanted it, so he didn't complain.
He left the bathroom and walked back into the party. Red and Kevin were laughing and hugging each other. Craig was tending to Tweek's wound, but both were smiling. Kenny had walked up to Clyde to strike up conversation as they both drank from their cans and once again, Eric felt lonely.
.OOO.
"What, they're dead?" Kyle nearly screamed, squinting as he did.
Stan quickly stood up, reaching out to gently push him back onto the hospital bed, "Don't sit up, you'll pull your stitches."
"Even Kenny?" Kyle frowned.
Stan nodded solemnly, "Apparently their escape plane went up in flames. Their obits were released this morning."
"It's been a week since the heist, though," Kyle sighed. "Shit, I can't believe this."
"I gotta tell you, Kyle, this wasn't really the reaction I was expecting. I mean, Cartman shot you, remember?"
"I remember," Kyle said. "Of course I remember."
"Then why do you look so upset?"
"If Wendy died, you'd be sad, right?"
"Yeah... I suppose I would."
"Isn't this kind of the same? I mean, it's obvious why I feel this way about Kenny and Clyde. Although they were working for Cartman, they never really were huge assholes... But Cartman as well, even though he was a massive dick, he was still so young... Plus, we've known him for as long as I can remember. What's wrong with feeling sad about that?"
"I guess... I see where you're coming from." Stan sat back in his seat. "You were always the most sympathetic one, you know."
Kyle let out a sigh and slowly turned to look out the window. "Did I tell you that the chief came in and fired me?"
"What? Why?" Stan yelled. "You didn't do anything wrong!"
Kyle let out a bitter laugh, "Of course I did. I showed up at the crime scene and "took" you with me. In his words. He fired me right on the spot."
"I followed you!" Stan said.
"I know, but that doesn't matter to him," Kyle turned to look back at his friend. "I'll have to live with my parents until I can find another job... My rent's already up."
"You can stay with me."
"I appreciate it, but I don't want to be a burden."
"But-"
"It's okay, Stan," Kyle smiled. "I can't really explain it, but I think I'll be okay. For the first time in a long time, I feel free."
Stan opened his mouth to argue that, but shook it off. If Kyle was feeling happy, who was he to trample on that? He smiled as well, "I'm happy for you. I guess that job was really hurting you, huh?"
"I guess so. I didn't realize it so much until I was actually let go. It feels... weirdly good."
Stan reached forward and placed a hand on his head as he stood up, "Good. You need to be happy." He pulled his hand back and stretched. "I guess I'd better head out as well."
"To your new girlfriend?" Kyle chuckled.
Stan smirked, "For real this time. She's a hell of a lot better than Wendy. Supper is already on the table. She made Spicy Curry and stir fry. Oh, dude, tonight's dessert is lady fingers!" he was practically drooling.
Kyle let out a small chuckle.
"I have to have you over for dinner when you get out of the hospital."
"I'll look forward to it," Kyle smiled, rubbing his head. It still hurt from the fall.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Stan said.
Kyle nodded, "Say hello to Lola for me."
"Will do, man."
As Stan left his room, Kyle lay his head on the pillow once more. He was content, despite losing his job. He didn't really know why, either. It almost felt like fate.
There was a quick knock on his door. "Stan? Did you forget something?" he called, figuring Stan was the only person it could be.
The door opened and Kyle cocked his head up to get a better view. A tall man stood in front of him. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes and his hood was pulled over his hair, but there was no mistake. Kyle knew exactly who it was.
His eyes grew wide.
"Cartman?"