A/N: STILL HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING HERE. So I'm just going to write and whatever my fingers decide to do is what we're sticking with I guess. Yay for poor planning!
Enjoy~
All eyes were wide, burning as they remained unblinking, each of them afraid to lose their bearings for a fraction of a second. Craig's gaze slid from Kenny's gun trained on him to the cowering redhead in the cage trying to hide behind his dilatory boyfriend.
"All right, so, here's my question:" Craig started with a smirk. "Let's say you got him out of the cage. How were you planning to get him out of the barn?" Kenny was silent and he snorted, "You're pretty shitty at your little rescue operative. Probably why it took you so fucking long to actually find him," he said in an oily tone.
"No, you just fucking put everything in my fucking way," Kenny hissed. "The cops are on the-"
"Nope," he cut him off, lips popping on the word and echoing through the intensity weighing down around them. He poked Stan with his gun, the boy's eye twitching angrily as he was pushed. "Got 'em before they called," he relayed smoothly. "Didn't I, Marsh?"
Stan looked up at the blonde and nodded subtly, Kenny cursing under his breath. "Well fine," Ken snapped. "I don't need the cops. I'll fucking kill you my fucking self."
"So, are you missing the fact that I have these idiots?" he hitched his brow.
"I can shoot you twice before you can even cock the fucking thing," he hissed.
He shrugged, "You wanna take that risk and watch brains fly all over the fucking barn, be my guest. No one's gonna question me cleaning out the damn barn when I'm keeping my dog in here," he taunted, watching Kenny's eyes bursting with fury. "Though, honestly, you should be thankful that the cops didn't come looking for him," he drawled.
"Tucker, I swear to God, I'll-"
"You know why Lila is such a good dog?" he cut him off smugly. "She can catch a vehicle pulling up the end of the hill night or day," he raised his brow. "Smart parking down there, though, I'll give you that. Were you a cop driving on up, well...it wouldn't have ended well," he shrugged dismissively.
Kenny sneered, "You're fucking insane."
Craig rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, Broflovski's been saying that for weeks. But no, I just know what to do in times of crisis." His eyes slid over to Kyle peeking from behind Kenny's shoulder, green alit with fear and worry. "Did you know it takes one minute and 27 seconds to drive up the hill?" he asked casually.
The blonde narrowed his eyes, "What the fuck are you-"
"And did you know that I can get out here and get the door unlocked in 40 seconds?" he continued, smacking his lips in boredom. "That would give me an extra 47 seconds to put a bullet through his fucking head," he jerked his chin towards the redhead, smirking at the boy trembling from his hiding spot.
Kenny growled, pushing himself further against the cage to shield Kyle all he could. "Not smart to say to someone who wants to watch you choke to death on your own blood, you fucker."
"Same could be said to you," he parried with a raised brow. "Though honestly this is a nice little happenstance," he shrugged, thumb drifting over his ribbed forestock. "Get rid of you assholes and I don't have anyone pointing fingers at me."
He smirked, "Except for Token, Wendy, Bebe, Tweek, and Stotch," he retorted dryly. "They know where we are. You do anything and you're caught regardless."
Craig's face twitched for a moment with anger before relaxing. "Not an issue. I have two options: Either I hide him and move with him stowed away once the cops clear out," he pointed towards Kyle with his gun, "Or, I kill him and go on playing clueless," he shrugged.
"Neither is happening, you crazy motherfucker," he spat defensively, finger resting against his trigger, itching to pull right then and there. "You have a cop that's suspicious of you," he relayed. "May not be the entire force, but it's someone and you're either goin' to jail or in the fuckin' ground."
He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, you've been sayin' I'm goin' to jail, Broflovski's been 'threatening' to kill me. Honestly, you two are broken fucking records since I've proven both of you wrong."
"Craig, stop," Clyde broke through in a plead. "Dude, this isn't like you."
Craig looked at him for a moment and scoffed. "Stay out of it, Clyde."
"Fuck you, you're fucking holding a gun to our heads!" Stan spat. "You fucking nutjob!" He hissed as Craig smacked the barrel against the back of his skull.
"I'd just like it on the record that I didn't want to help the Jew," Cartman piped up.
Kenny glared at him, "Shut the fuck up, Fatboy," he hissed before looking back at Craig's amused, cruel smirk. "Give me the key to the cage and I won't shoot you," he offered lowly. "We'll just sit here until the police come."
"Key?" he repeated, looking up thoughtfully. "Key...Key...oh you mean the one I tossed into the woods after I grabbed these assholes?" he smiled sweetly before it dropped into a scowl. "He's not getting out of here." Kyle bit his lip, putting his fingers through the cage up against Kenny's back, needing the contact to stave him through the madness taking place. "I worked way too long to get a hold of him. If he's leaving, he's leaving a fucking corpse," he hissed.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Stan said disgustedly. "You've done enough to him! Knock it the fuck off!"
Craig snorted, "I think we had some fun together, didn't we, Broflovski?" he taunted.
"Fuck you," Kyle whispered, putting his head against the cage and letting Kenny's body heat wash over him. "Fuck you."
"I think we covered that plenty," he drawled, stomach twisting in pride at the pure murderous rampage sparking in Kenny's stone-cold stare. Kyle's jaw trembled, looking at the bottom of the cage embarrassedly, breath coming out in short, angry bursts.
He leaned back up looking over Kenny's shoulder and locking in Craig's stare. "You won't kill me," he said lowly.
"At this point I may have to," he smirked.
"But you won't," he hissed. "You fucking obsessed psychopath!" he spat. "You'd sooner kill yourself than me, and maybe you fucking should!" he shouted.
Kenny nodded, "I won't stop you," he said cooly. "Go ahead and shove the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger with your fucking toes. It'd be a fun show for all of us."
Craig rolled his eyes, "Not happening. I told you, when a dog is rabid, you put it down, regardless of how much you love it," he paused, grinning at Kenny's angry glare at the declaration. "Besides, when these fucks are gone and if I'm gone, who'll take care of you?" he feigned a small pout. Kyle glared, frustrated tears beading his eyes. He just wanted to go home. He wanted Craig to drop dead. This wasn't quite the flawless rescue he'd dreamed about.
All their ears perked at the sound of approaching sirens in the distance, Craig's eyes widening with horror as he glanced back out the open door. Stan and Cartman shared a look, the brunette quickly rolling to the side and Stan jolting up, grabbing the barrel of the gun and pointing it towards Cartman's abandoned position. Craig sneered, kicking Clyde's face as he tried to get up to assist. Kenny raised his own weapon back to his shoulder and moved forward, pivoting and trying to find an angle where Stan wouldn't be caught in the crossfire as the two of them fought over the Winchester.
Craig growled, propelling himself forward and smashing his weight against Stan, throwing him off balance as the sirens picked up their volume, racing towards them. Craig kicked him over, quickly raising his gun to point back towards the two across the way and Kenny grit his teeth as he locked on his target, the barn erupting in a quick succession of three shots.
Craig's gun fell from his hands and clattered onto the dirtied cement, the noirette dropping to his knees and grabbing at his left arm, screaming in agony and rage, blood spurting from underneath his fingers. Stan quickly recovered through the ringing of his ears and snagged the fallen weapon, throwing it off to the side out of Craig's reach.
Stan looked back behind him, jaw dropping at Kenny turned around at the cage, yelling frantically into it. He couldn't pick out words through the deafening echo, pivoting on his foot and quickly running over, diving down beside of him and gasping in horror. Kyle's right shoulder was spilling blood onto the thin blanket beneath him, the redhead shaking violently and struggling to keep his eyes open, unable to hear Kenny and Stan's terrified pleas for him to stay awake.
Dull green slowly slid to between the both of them, seeing Cartman and Clyde holding Craig down and gulping dryly. His body was in an absolute turmoil, the pain insurmountable and each nerve desperately trying to numb him down. A dark fog crept along the corners of his eyes as he raised them with strenuous effort to Kenny's tear-drenched cheeks. The high pitched ringing of his ears simmered down, coming back in to hear Ken's familiar voice rushing over him, blinking lethargically at the frequency shift as the blonde shouted in panic. He opened his mouth, trying to make words but unsure if he was doing so.
Kenny's hearing flooded back onto him, catching Kyle mumbling nonsense towards him and his heart dropping. He heard the stampeding of steps as lights flooded the barn, looking to see police running towards them. "We need an ambulance!" he screamed.
Murphy directed a group to apprehend Craig, who was violently fighting against being held. He ran past and up to the cage, heart dropping at the redhead inside. "Jesus Christ," he murmured. "Do you have the key?" he asked, noting the padlock.
"No," Stan said shakily, trying to stop Kenny from tearing out his hair.
"We need bolt cutters!" Murphy shouted, pointing to a paramedic to send them back out. Another came rushing in with a stretcher, meeting the group and staring at the damage.
"What happened?" the woman demanded.
"He was fucking shot, what the fuck does it look like?!" Kenny screamed, watching Kyle's eyes drooping further and further. The redhead couldn't seem to form a thought, couldn't understand why so many people were surrounding him, why Kenny was yelling so loudly. He shuddered, trying to make his arms move to grab his sopping blanket to cover himself more efficiently, confused when his bound arms refused to move.
A loud snapping sound radiated around him, eyes still hazily locked on Kenny's devastated face as Stan reached past the blonde, grabbing the bolt cutters and snapping around sections of bars in quick succession. They stared at each other with glossed eyes, Kenny begging for him to stay with him before Kyle finally let out a long breath that he didn't know he'd been holding and let his eyes slip shut. He vaguely heard Kenny screaming for him to wake back up, but couldn't seem to do so. He quietly wondered to himself if Craig had drugged him again, mind overtaken by a quiet, damp fog and keeping him seated in an aura of nothingness as he slowly slipped out of consciousness and gratefully drifted into a painless sleep.
Kenny gritted his teeth through his tears, standing and ripping the top of the cage off as soon as Stan snapped the last bar. He shoved the paramedic away and reached in, cupping under Kyle's side and carefully rolling him over, reaching under his back and legs and hefting him out of the confinement. His heart stopped as the blanket slid off of him and more damage was so clearly spelled out in a horrifying array of color. His eyes hit the gleam of the collar as the boy's head fell back limply, Kyle's name spelled so prominently on the tag. The blonde shook himself out of his shaken state and moved to cautiously set Kyle down on the propped stretcher, watching as he was urgently wheeled away from him towards the blaring lights. "I...I gotta..." he murmured, shoving off Stan's comforting hand on his arm and taking off after them.
He ran straight into Sergeant Yates as he crossed the door, both recovering from the impact and staring at each other. Kenny's lip trembled, tears rushing down his cheeks. "This is your fault," he hissed before shoving him out of the way and sprinting to the ambulance, one of the paramedics pointing him to the front cab. The blonde hurried and jumped in as told, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. Yates watched blankly as the doors slammed and the truck sped off back down the hill, sirens blaring loudly once again.
He glanced over to see Craig being escorted to a separate ambulance and forced in, cursing and fighting all the way. He rubbed the back of his neck, walking into the barn and heading quietly towards Murphy. He looked at Stan, Cartman, and Clyde all glaring at him and cleared his throat. "Are you boys all right?"
"We're fine. Unlike Kyle," Stan spat. "You could've fucking stopped this on day fucking one!" he shouted, flinching as Clyde put a hand on his shoulder. "He could've never been hurt!"
"Stan, come on," Clyde murmured from behind his hand cupping his bloody nose.
Murphy sighed, "We'll need you boys to come to the station. We need to know what happened."
"I'll tell you exactly what happened," Stan snapped, pulling away from Clyde's hand. "A cop with his head shoved up his ass so far he couldn't see the blatant fucking truth might have killed my best friend! How's that for what fucking happened?!" he demanded.
Cartman cleared his throat and grabbed Stan's arm. "We'll meet you at the station if we don't have to ride in an actual cop car," he muttered to the detective.
"That's not necessary," he replied softly, looking at his stationary partner. "We'll meet you there, boys."
They all shot Yates another scathing look before Clyde and Cartman began leading the distraught noirette out of the building and to ask for a ride down the hill. Yates gulped and crossed his arms, stepping over to look at the bloodied cage and shaking his head. "I really thought it was McCormick," he said softly.
"Well...intuition isn't always right, Sir," Murphy replied quietly.
"Yours was," he murmured, eyes slithering over to the chain jutting from the pole. He let a long breath out of his nose. "I might've killed this kid."
Murphy bit his lip, "I'm sure he'll be okay, Harrison. It was just his shoulder...I'm sure he'll be fine," he repeated, not entirely sure who he was trying to convince more.
"I should've listened to McCormick. I should've listened to all the kids...I should've gotten the damn warrant," he muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
His partner stared at him before taking a deep breath. "Yeah. You should have." He turned on his heel and headed back to the straggling cops still lingering outside, giving them directions that couldn't quite hit Yates' ears. The sergeant looked back at the bloodied blanket and closed his eyes, shaking his head once more and standing alone in silence in the frigid, arid enclosure.
A/N: Well. I'm just as surprised as you may or may not be. Better than the version option with Stan getting his head blown off I guess there were just so many characters to shoot so little time.
Shoulda just had Lila snipe everyone I mean that'd make just as much sense as the rest of this kerfuffle. Ah well. Next one is the last one.
Thanks for R&Ring!