::I Want You! To Spread Propaganda – Swapsies::
Dee's escape from the school showed her a path that had already been carefully prepared. Someone, she could only assume it was her other self, had put a metallic strip in-between the latch of the emergency door and the contact in the frame to keep the alarm from getting triggered. A somewhat unnecessary gesture, considering she could have just frozen time to gain the same effect, but with the adrenaline rushing through her system she could have easily seen herself forgetting that's how emergency doors work and doing something stupid. Just outside said door? The backpack she'd brought to school today, which she'd left in her locker when she'd gone to the show. Her big black coat was there, too, which she shrugged on as she slipped out into the cold. From the emergency exit, it was a quick run from the edge of the eighth grade wing to the sidewalk that ringed the edge of the school parking lot.
Just as she arrived there, a car pulled up. She had ignored it at first, turning herself away from the school to beginning jogging up the sidewalk and start figuring out what the fastest way back to town would be. When would the next city bus be coming? Would it be faster to just run back to town?
The car was keeping pace with her. It drove next to her, and she heard it as someone manually cranked an old window down. It was enough that she finally glanced over- and saw Kenny half-way hanging out of a window to shout "Get in, dammit!" At her through his own tightly drawn hood.
A shocked glance went to the driver's seat; was that- it fucking was, Cartman's mom, Liane. Why was Liane giving Kenny a lift? And why was she in exactly the right spot to do the same for her? Dee knew she'd come to see Cartman in the show, but now that she thought about it... had she actually seen the woman in the building?
She stopped jogging up the sidewalk, and Liane stopped the car for Kenny to throw the rear door open from the inside, frantically gesturing to her and pulling her into the vehicle as she got in. The door was shut behind her, and Liane immediately took off from the school's parking lot at a speed that may have been considered faster than safe.
"What the fuck, dude? This is your fucking plan!"
Dee was a heap in the back seat. Kenny's yanking had ended her up half-sprawled and struggling to get herself upright and slide a seat belt on- but what was he talking about? Sure, getting the president to come down to South Park had been her plan, but all of this was unforeseen. Once upright, she glanced at him with a tight frown. If you've got details, I'd appreciate being filled in.
"Seat belts, kids." Liane called sweetly from the front of the vehicle, as Kenny still had not put on his. He reached for it while studying the look on his partner's face before he realized what was going on.
"There's more than one! Of you! You duplicated! The you that gave me the note- that must have been the other you!"
Note? She blinked a few times, looking up at Liane, who had not required directions on where they were going... and she also seemed quite determined. What had been told to her to make her do this? Usually she never willingly ferried any kids into danger, and yet she appeared to be ready to take on the world for a possibly unknown cause... and leave her son at the school for the time being. Peering back at Kenny, she reached into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie to pull out her phone with the earbuds still attached, holding it out as well as presenting an empty hand. Lemme see it, and you can see what the other me left for me.
He got it right away, exchanging a paper note for her phone and tucking the earbuds up into his hood before pressing play to watch the short video clip that was still cued up. She, conversely, had a much lower tech item in her hands that simply needed to be unfolded. Not unlike the strangeness of looking into a face that was exactly like her own but not under her control, she found a note that was most certainly in her handwriting that she had no recollection of having written.
It's all going to go wrong.
Those were the first words, written in large letters that ran over several lines on the page of notebook paper. She'd underlined it for emphasis. Under that, her sloppy script resolved into a normal size, fitting between the lines [mostly] and continuing on in a short letter.
Leave the show when Wendy gets on to the stage, get out of the school. I disabled the alarm on the emergency door in the eighth grade wing. Cartman's mom will pick you up, I'll join you. Butters is in trouble. Agent Russel escaped and ended up at his house while searching for mine. Something is wrong with him. If we don't get there in time, he's going to go on a rampage that starts with Butters and his family. The police won't come. They've already been attacked, several officers are injured, and they think calls from Butters's house are a prank they don't have time for.
I promise Karen will be safe. All the danger is in town, she's safe at the school. I need your help.
-Alyssa
That was why the door alarm was disabled- not for her, but for Kenny to make his exit ahead of her so their ride would be on hot standby- but what had gotten Liane to march to this tune? She was... disturbingly silent, outside from telling them to buckle up. Her energy didn't seem enthusiastic, but instead tense- as if someone had recently held a gun to her head.
Nut-punching Macho Man Randy Savage, just how many strings did the other me pull?!
"Ms. Cartman, how long is it gonna take us to get back to town?" Kenny asked as he tugged the earbuds back out of his hood, peering up to the front seat.
"Just a few minutes." She assured placidly. "I'm going as fast as I can- my little sweetiekins was clear that he'd never forgive me if I didn't get you there in time... in time for what, he didn't say. Just that it would all be ruined if I didn't get you two back to town as fast as possible- why, he wouldn't even let me come inside to see him perform in the show... Where do you need me to bring you?"
"Butters's house." Kenny responded, not elaborating behind that. Liane might have opened her mouth to question it, but she hesitated, thought better of it, and returned her attention to the road.
Hearing Liane say that Cartman had insisted he give them a ride actually gave Dee a shot of relief... the fact that such relief came from finding out her son had threatened and verbally abused her until she agreed to it notwithstanding. For a moment she'd been terrified that she'd- the other version of her- had secured the woman's cooperation by verbally ordering it. So far she'd seen Cartman become obsessed with getting everyone to hear her voice after screaming at him, and heard about a government agent going completely kill crazy after commanding him to forget everything he'd learned in South Park- she really did not want to use this ability much more than necessary without knowing a touch more about how it worked... even if there were several instances of it working out just fine like the singing contest and making peace with Cartman after his obsessive episode.
What had happened the last time around? She wish she understood more, but there'd be no de'ja'vu to guide her- her other self had already forced her to jump the tracks and take a different path... and it appeared she'd intervened with a number of other parties as well. Certainly Cartman had not convinced his mother to give herself and Kenny a ride just to save Butters- he had to be getting something out of it.
Taint-sucking snakes, she better not have promised him anything I'm gonna have to live up to- me and that kid got enough back and forth going on as it is.
Eric Cartman had been surprised and confused when Douchebag had shown up in the doorway of the English classroom right at the end of the day, slipping in past the herd of kids heading out and getting his attention in particular by waving him off to the side. It was something that had only happened maybe an hour and a half ago, but seeing Douchebag reach out to him was... weird. That was always the thing about Douchebag; for the most part he was passive, going along with plans other people made and tasks other people asked of him, and otherwise keeping to himself in his weird, silent way... when he wasn't ripping ass on people's faces or destroying their toilets.
That or talking to Eric and only Eric to make him freak out to the guys, only to go silent again and make everyone conclude that no, no, it was Eric Cartman who was once again lying to the group.
But that was just the dynamic they'd enjoyed for the past couple of years- recent events had become more interesting. As well as more complicated. Douchebag had begun talking to him outside his little asshole jokes. At first it had been to scream at Eric, to let him know that he'd finally pushed hard enough to cross a line and properly piss the guy off- a moment that had been as terrifying as it was utterly thrilling. Then, Douchebag spoke to him to discuss a sort of truce between them after he'd, again, crossed the line in Douchebag's mind... though Eric felt he was overreacting.
All he did was kidnap Wendy- like that was a big deal.
The point was that it appeared among the changes that came in this year, like the change from elementary school to middle school, the change in teachers, the change in classes, this seemed to be another change- a change in their relationship.
A change where, instead of ignoring him 24-7 until something had already been started, Douchebag came to him.
The guy seemed on edge, like he hadn't been sleeping. Then again, hadn't he been looking like that for a few days? The night that Government Hobbit had been taken away, someone had mentioned that there were plans in motion to stick it to the President in some way. Had Douchebag suddenly realized that he needed the greatness that was Eric Cartman to bring that plan to fruition?
Before he had even the time to say hello or ask what was going on, he was presented with a hand written note; one he'd protested upon receiving. Notes were gay, after all- guys didn't pass notes. Then again, between notes getting passed and between this particular asshole opening his mouth, Eric would take the note.
Moments later, he'd be extremely thankful that he did.
He didn't remember the exact wording Douchebag had used on his little piece of paper, but it informed him of two things. One was that the fashion show would be interrupted by a high-powered buyer, and that he could bag a tidy profit for himself by placing himself as Bebe's manager and drawing out negotiations as long as possible with someone who was not prepared to take no for an answer. Two was that the whole deal would be ruined, and no one would get anything, unless Douchebag and Kenny got a fast ride back to town when the show got interrupted. Cartman's mother was suggested as a possible chauffeur.
At first, Eric had suspected nothing more than a joke; a prank to get him hyped up about some kind of big payoff and make him look stupid during the fashion show. He'd looked up to suggest just that... but Douchebag had already made himself scarce. It was the change in his behavior that made him think, for a moment, that maybe the note was worth taking seriously. The fact that this was a change in his pattern, that it wasn't usual way of doing things... and because Eric could not see what he'd possibly have to gain by lying about someone wanting to buy Bebe's line; and it wasn't like the note had directed him to go and shout it from the rooftops. It was more like he as quietly alerting him to an exclusive opportunity, like super spies exchanging privileged information.
Okay, maybe the note was quite that lame.
Douchebag also didn't drag him off to some bathroom to talk to him. As many question-marks as Eric had about the kid's behavior, this fit the bill for sincerity. He'd believe it. And in believing it, he called his mom and made the appropriate number and types of threats to get her to come to the school and just sit in the parking lot, ignoring her as her voice cracked when she talked about how much she wanted to see her pumpkin up on stage. Really, he sympathized with her wanting to see him in all his glory on the runway, but with the possibility of a big payoff? And a possibility of her lack of co-operation ruining that payoff? She could cry all she liked.
And, much as Douchebag predicted in that note, the show had been interrupted just as Eric had been on the catwalk. The lights had gone out, and while he'd been pretty close to getting back to the greenroom... he had instead made a smart turn to move back out towards the edge, miscalculated where the stage actually was, and promptly walked right out into thin air to plummet down onto a couple members of the press. In that moment, he had been embarrassed, and doubt crept in for one angry moment where he assumed that embarrassment must have been Douchebag's goal.
And then the lights came up, and the President of the Fucking United States stepped into the gym and offered to buy the whole show for a cool ten grand.
The note didn't seem like a joke anymore. Too much had lined up. Eric would have plenty of questions later, but at that second he'd hefted himself back up onto the stage and done exactly what he'd been told; he put himself between the Commander in Chic and the Commander and Chief, and proclaimed himself the representative of Bebe's business interests.
Of course he'd noticed that Douchebag had been taken into custody by a pair of secret service bozos. He had to assume it was all part of the plan, because the kid wasn't fighting. He also had to assume that was he was doing was part of the plan... and the fact that it put him into a position to make a tidy profit meant he had no reason to say no to being part of the scheme.
All of that... brought him here, walking out of the Principal's office and graciously holding the door for his 'client' as their negotiations concluded, a too pleased smile on his face. Really, the suit Bebe had made him for the show had worked quite well for the whole manager persona, and Douchebag had not been kidding when he'd mentioned in the note that the buyer would not be ready to take no for an answer. Who knew Ivanka Trump was so desperate for new designers, she'd pay out a cool 5.5 Million for the rights to Bebe's work?
And for her manager, a tidy twenty percent of the block purchase.
Getting promised just over one-million dollars had a way of putting a guy in a good mood. So good that he'd even hold doors and observe the social graces.
"Your friend should be waiting outside- would you send him in, please?" Ivanka quested, still sitting behind the desk in the office as if she were the principal and not the fucking president who just bought a student's fashion line for more money than most people in this town could even dream of. "I've business with him, as well."
"Yes, Ma'am." Bebe responded, appearing to be in something of a state of shock. Eric watched as she drifted out of the office through the door he held open, an ankle taking her weight wrong and falling into a small stumble in her heels before she corrected herself and prevented a twisted joint. "A-ah, we'll, uh... send him right in."
Eric shut the door, faced himself out, took a deep breath... and let out a cheer at the top of his lungs that might have shaken the sheet of locked glass that kept kids out of the school bulletin board whilst pumping his fists in the air. It went until he exhausted his breath, at which point he inhaled and begun doing a merry little dance around his dazed peer-slash-business partner. "We just cle-e-e-ean-ed, o-o-out the pres-i-dent~" He all but sang with unbridled glee, ending his dance in a showy spin and popping out to an extended pose of victory; arms and legs extended and looking back at Bebe.
She still appeared to be catching up with exactly what just happened. "Did we just... get... as much as I think we got?" She asked, glancing back at the door. She appeared to be in a sort of pinch me stage of all of this. "I-I mean, sure, part of the agreement is she gets to sell everything else I design for the rest of my life, and she gets a percentage of sales, but- did... did I just make four million dollars on a school fashion show?"
"Jeez, you're bad at math." Cartman marveled. "Five-point-five million dollars, Bebe."
"I know!" She put her hands out, as if she were portioning an imaginary submarine sandwich in front of herself. "I meant after your cut- I just... I never expected; God I just paid for college and then some."
"College!?" Cartman snapped, withdrawing from his power pose to stare at the girl in shock. "You still wanna go to more skewl after getting set up like that? Girl, I'd be planning a trip to the Bahamas if I were you."
Really, she was so ungrateful. He just helped her make a shitton of money, and she was thinking about working harder? Crazy, stupid, girl. He supposed it went with the territory.
"I think I need to sit." She muttered, shaking her head. "Let's go get Dee- those secret service guys had him out in the main hall, didn't they?"
Oh, right, Douchebag... whom Cartman supposed he owed a word of thanks for tipping him off. And maybe a nice Christmas present, assuming the kid didn't piss him off between now and Christmas. Or maybe he'd fund a lobby to make Jewish traditions illegal in the US? Oh, the possibilities.Either way, he made his way through the administration zone to get back out to the main hallway... a place that now smelled as if the sewer had backed up and the halls were lined with sludge. Instead of seeing any sort of fecal catastrophe, however, Eric sighted Douchebag standing in the hall. Just Douchebag. Oh, the secret service guys were still there, but they weren't standing. Both appeared to be down for the count, one with a bloody nose and the other with his arm bent in intensely the wrong way, and both with extremely painful-looking wedgies.
"What the fuck, Douchebag?!" Cartman shouted before he even got to the hall itself. "Are you trying to endanger the deal my client and I just made? I worked my ass off negotiating, and you just... just... beat up these guys like it's no big deal?"
Bebe was behind him, covering her nose as she detected the sheer volume of gas that was looming in the air ahead. "Holy- Dee... ew... what happened?"
Dee responded with a casual shrug, and a face that said something along the lines of 'They started it.'
"Whatever, dude, Miss. Prez wants to see you." Eric informed. "Better get in there before she comes out here and see what you did to her escort."
"Wait... Dee, you just... beat up a pair of trained adults?" Bebe questioned.
"Douchebag beats up lots of people. He's kinda crazy with the fitness stuff." Cartman shrugged, as if it were old news. To him it was. He'd heard from Kenny that the kid was a gym rat- no tougher than himself, of course, but he wasn't a slouch by any stretch.
Bebe might have argued more if she hadn't already been through so much already. "Y'know what? I'm just going to head back to the gym tell everyone what's going on. No doubt everyone else who was helping with the show is hanging around and waiting to hear what's up."
"And I'm stuck waiting around until my mom gets back." Eric nodded to himself as Douchebag passed him in the hall, heading towards the office where they'd left the President. Thankfully his gasses weren't following him, and were dissipating quickly enough to make the main hall less than toxic. Eric began heading back to the gym himself, beginning to think of how he might just beg a ride from Stan's parents... when he froze mid-step.
Just an hour and a half ago, he'd gotten a note that said that both Kenny and Douchebag needed a ride back to town. If that was such a big deal...
Why was Douchebag here?
He looked back, but Douchebag had already disappeared from the side hallway, no doubt just entering the office he and Bebe had left behind minutes ago. Did he risk his deal by going in after Douchebag and demanding an explanation?
… no. He decided there was another way to get information, and it started with pulling out his cellphone to call his mom.
::The Author's Corner::
CARTMAN DID SOMETHING RIGHT. AND WHILE HE'S STILL AN ANTI-SEMITIC ASSHOLE ON THE INSIDE, HE DID HIS FUCKING JOB.
Which was to distract the President long enough for Dee Beta to swap out with Dee Alpha. XD
And no, no Cartman will never thank her. Because by the time he thinks of it again, he will have manipulated his own memory enough to believe that it was his idea all along because he's a self-important asshat.
ONWARDS!
-Buttlord