::Sneaker's SnacShak – Team Dynamics::

"So... what's the plan?"

Butters was the next to speak in the heavy atmosphere. Wendy hadn't gone on; there was no indication that anyone had a plan, so silence followed his question. Not even Kenny pitched in with one of his quick-fire ideas, as a heavy sense of doom seemed to settle over the group.

"Kartwright says there's not much we can do at this point." Wendy reported, slouched over. She looked tired- like she hadn't slept decently since she'd gotten the file... she could be a true workaholic when something caught her interest. "She's trying to find other contacts in the Agency, but they have limited interaction with the CDC. She can't really pull rank on anyone, and getting information out is apparently like pulling teeth. Ideally, a copy of the requisition order would lead us to whomever requested it, with a delivery address and everything, but her guy dropped out of contact before he could forward that on to her."

"What about machine shops?" Butters quested, his head cocked slightly.

"Huh?" Wendy cocked her head slightly, looking to him. Dee did, too, surprised that Butters was somehow immune to the entropy that was sucking all the energy out of the room.

"W-well if you're trying to build or fix something big, you need tools, don't you?" He pointed out. "And space. There's loads of machine shops around South Park that let you rent space and use their equipment- why I bet hittin' the pavement and seeing if anyone is building anything strange in one or shipping parts back and forth would be a good start to an investigation... w-wouldn't it?"

He shrank slightly, just coming to the awareness that everyone was staring at him, and began to blush.

"It's a stupid idea, isn't it? I'm sorry, fellas- I gotta think harder before I just open my mouth and say any little-"

"Are you huffing dude?" Kenny broke in. "That's fucking genius. An abandoned lab wouldn't have power- you can't build there! Wendy, do you think you could break down likely candidates online?"

"Most shops like that are still working in paper records." She observed, energy picking back up. Dee felt the room change, her own posture rising a degree. "But I can do things the old-fashioned way; nothing wrong with an on the ground investigation. It'll just take time..."

"I can help, too!" Butters enthusiastically threw in. "B-but what do we say to 'em?"

"We don't have to say anything, Butters." Wendy responded with a smart shake of her head. "It'll be a shop-by-shop records investigation. I'll just break in after hours, go through their files, and take pictures of who has been renting what spaces for how long, and the charges they're running up with borrowed equipment. Most people use shop spaces like that to fix up old cars, so picking up on odd things shouldn't be too tough."

"But isn't that illegal? I thought you guys were doing the hero thing."

"Batman flavor, Butters." Kenny interjected. "Y'know, in the cartoons where he'd break into places to get information needed for an investigation that police wouldn't be able to get without a warrant? Like that, only none of us are billionaire playboys."

Dee smirked, actually finding the energy to scoff now that the group had some direction. Well, one of us has a stash of Playboy magazines, but I'm not sure that counts.

"Ooooooh." He nodded some understanding. "Does that make Buttlord Robin?"

Bitch do I look like I wear florescent yellow tights?

"I think more like Nightwing- post Disco Wing outfit, obviously." Wendy chimed in. "Though you're not exactly that acrobatic, Dee- no offense."

None taken- better than someone suggesting I do Robin cosplay. As if sensing the possible thought, she turned a glare upon Kenny, who had a sly smirk on his face that she was certain to be imagining exactly that. Probably the original Robin design, where it was just a leotard with no pants at all.

"What?" Kenny demanded with faux innocence. "C'mon, you'd look great!"

Dee shifted back in her spot, hands cradling under where Junior was still resting inside her shirt as his personal safe haven against all the strangers invading his territory. She squirmed until she got one of her legs loose from beneath her, and promptly shoved her freed foot against Kenny's butt, pitching him off balance and sending him off the edge of her bed to go crashing to the floor. Kenny went down with a yelp, laughing it off as he landed and rolled.

"Hm... maybe we should get Stan's help..." Wendy muttered, already off into planning the operation and ignoring the antics before her. "He knows a thing or two about this stuff, maybe a casual inquiry during business hours could get us somewhere- the less breaking and entering I have to do, the better."

He doesn't always like being involved in this sort of thing, though... Dee thought pensively, her lips puckering over the consideration. Kid had a lot going on right now- she wouldn't be surprised if he hit the fuck it button and embraced his inner cynic for a while. Goodness knows she'd do the same if the idea of that lab being operational again didn't put the fucking fear of the Christian Old-Testament God into her agnostic ass.

The whole deal with Kartwright's contact falling off the map right when she requested information made it even worse- it suggested the possibility of a rogue agent, out for their own ends.

The advantage of dealing with the government was that it was big- it had the fatal flaw of bureaucracy slowing it down and stalling it out at critical moments. A single person or small group could act faster, more decisively- that could be much more dangerous to deal with.

Fuck she was getting paranoid again. There was no proof of any of that; just gut feelings that wanted to insist they were true as she considered nightmare scenarios. For all they knew, the requisition order was for a fucking flamethrower and the person out here was some desk jockey with a conscious who'd stumbled across the record of the abandoned lab and decided to burn it down themselves. It was unlikely to be the case, but possible all the same.

Such thoughts were cut off when the foot she'd used to shove her boyfriend off the bed was seized and yanked upon. She fell onto her back, and Junior dug claws into her stomach as his hidey hole within her shirt went mobile. Wendy cried out, snatching up the tray of desserts before Dee's weight could drag it along with the bedspread, and Butters laughed as Dee was the next to take the plunge off the edge, a spooked and ruffled butterscotch cat deciding the best escape route was through the collar of her shirt and squirming out with a yowl. Her face was dusted by the cat's fluffy tail as he went, darting under her computer desk as his new hiding place.

"I know few of the shop guys- they're a bunch of stand-up fellers, I bet me an' Stan can find out a few things from 'em without having to break in and take sneaky pictures of their files." Butters added, holding back a laugh but staying on topic, as Wendy put the platter back down, helping herself to another cookie. "He'll wanna know what's in it for him if I ask 'em, though."

"I'll let him know what's up." Wendy assured. "He'll be busy tomorrow afternoon, but hopefully he won't be too mad at me for asking for a couple hours out of his weekend..."

Dee blinked as the planning session went on without her, her head and shoulders leaned against the side of her bed with her lower back and butt securely on the ground. Kenny was just beyond her, smirking as he still had a grip on the foot he'd taken hold of in order to drag her off.

All at once, she sensed his intent, and glared.

Don't you fucking dare, I will kick you.

"You guys!" Wendy barked from above. "We're trying to get some work done! Can you pay attention?"

Both of them glanced up, and then looked at each other. Kenny pouted, but let her go.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your titties on." Kenny assured, getting back up and returning to the group. "I can help with daytime canvasing, too; it'll give me a chance to scope shit out in case any of them have installed security, and we'll be able to hit more places after hours once we've narrowed the list."

"Wow." Butters marveled, starry-eyed to a degree. "You guys are so cool, it's like a movie- what happens when we find what we're lookin' for?"

That's when I come in. Dee smiled as she unceremoniously plopped back onto the wrinkled bedspread. Wendy's the brains, Kenny's the wit, I'm the muscle... and the one who can fart on people's faces as an interrogation tactic. Plus I owe whoever this asshole is a knuckle sandwich for ratcheting my anxiety back up to eleven.

"Call in the cavalry." Wendy translated with a giggle, gesturing between Dee and Kenny. "... which means we just gotta survive school tomorrow, and then we can get started."

"Ho boy... tomorrow. I better be on my best behavior- last thing I want is to get grounded now." Butters muttered. "Then again, my dad's been pretty nice since coming home; the painkillers make him all mellow."

"Dude, prescription pain meds will make anybody pretty fuckin' mellow." Kenny smirked.

"Dude... you're becoming a total cat guy."

There was nothing quite like the atmosphere at the bus stop on a Friday morning. There was a sense of almost there; the finish line of the week in sight, the weekend a tantalizing trophy for those who survived just one more day. In a break with her usual pattern, Dee had arrived forth out of five to the stop... and when questioned why, a photo on her phone was provided as an explanation.

Specifically a picture of Junior, rolled over on his back to show the white fluff of his belly while occupying the bathroom sink, looking up with big amber eyes that appeared to say yes? Did you need this for something?

Shuttup, it was adorable and I had to take a picture. Dee smirked begrudgingly, shrugging her shoulders at Stan's comment... which came with a reminder that the binder was back. It had to be- her favorite baggy-ass electric blue hoodie had been ruined by her last misadventure and she hadn't replaced it as of yet. For now she'd defaulted to an azure shirt with a yellow star on the chest, an over-sized red flannel, and her usual outwear; a poofy black coat with fluffy fur lining and purple gloves.

If I keep growing in that region, it's gonna stop looking like pecs and start looking like a uni-boob. I can't bank on being a B cup for the rest of my life... certainly not if mom is any example.

"What's he doing in the sink?" Kyle quested from over her shoulder, having also crowded in to look at the photo. "I thought cats hated water."

"Yeah dude, doesn't he know you could just turn on the faucet?"

Kenny's muffled speech, coming through his hood and scarf. The only person missing was...

"Gais! YOU GAIS!"

The clump loosened back into a line as Cartman approached, moving at a trot that made his ample belly jiggle beneath his red jacket. He had reddened cheeks, a sign that he'd jogged all the way from his house to the stop with urgent news for his gang.

"Dudes- holy shit, you won't believe it-" He continued as he arrived among the group, gulping air and getting himself back together, evoking a specific kind of de'ja'vu for the group; it felt like it was at least once a week that Eric came running in like this with some bee in his bonnet.

It always distressed Dee when that happened- de'ja'vu usually meant they'd done this before and something had gone terribly wrong, so she'd used her time-traveling ass to undo it and try again. Human brains weren't made to hold multiple timelines in their memory, and would try to default to what happened in the original timeline... which made shit very confusing if they were trying to fix something. Worse, South Park itself seemed to run on a sort of repeating cycle, further fucking with linear perception.

It was the kind of shit that made her head hurt when she thought about it. That said, other signs of a memory echo were missing- she had no premonition of what Cartman was about to say next, no idea of what the fuck he was on about. She'd assume this was just the usual South Park weirdness without any of her personal brand mixed in.

"What are you talking about, dude?" Stan took the bait first, cocking his head slightly.

"There's a new pizza place opening in South Park! They've got signs up, and a raffle for the grand opening, and- and- they're giving away a free pizza party with all the bells and whistles, guys! Dining room space, six large pizzas, mascots, prize bags, desserts, arcade tickets, all of it!"

"Seriously?!" Kenny cried out, his voice rising up enough that Dee might have detected an adolescent crack.

"Seriously!" Cartman shouted back, charged up about it. "We can sign up after school at the mall, the drawing is tomorrow!"

"Aren't you guys getting a little over-excited?" Kyle posited. "... aren't we getting a little old for prize-bags and free greasy pizza?"

Silence seized the bus-stop. Eyes turned upon Kyle, who stared back evenly. Cartman approached him, and placed a hand on his shoulder before speaking very seriously. "Keyl, I understand that you've been crazy lame since the day your jew family cut a piece of your jew penis off... but you are never too old for free fucking pizza."

"Fuck you you fucking fatass!" Kyle snarled, shoving Cartman away from him, but without extreme violence. This was just the usual tenor of their relationship. "I just think we're almost teenagers, and maybe we shouldn't get so psyched up about a new pizzeria opening up. We're not ten anymore."

"Which means we can be the guys who push little kids out of the way when we want a turn at the arcade machines!" Cartman retorted victoriously. "Imagine it, Keyl. Imagine every time you got shoved out of the way by some fucking sixth-grader, and then see yourself as the sixth-grader. You can be the master of the arcade. You can win the tickets. You can get the prizes." Cartman slid back in, putting his arm over Kyle's shoulder, his other hand sweeping out to the air as if he could take the image he was describing and project it in the air. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I can't come after school."

Cartman blinked. Kyle, Dee, and Kenny all winced at Stan's statement.

"Why the fuck not?" Cartman demanded, releasing Kyle and bearing down on Stan. "Can't your fuckin' girlfriend wait one afternoon, or do you have a fucking schedule for getting pussy-whipped?"

"That's not it." Stan shook his head vigorously. "I just have someplace I gotta be after school today."

"Stan, I don't think you understand. It's a raffle. That means if we all want free pizza, we need as many entries as we can get- if one of us wins, we all win, and our chances are best if we work together."

"I'm busy- fuckin' ask Butters to help, he's usually up for this kind of thing."

"Doing what?! What's so important that you'd just abandon your friends and damage our odds?"

Shove a bazooka up Hillary Clinton's asshole, I know where this bullshit is going.

Dee knew exactly where Stan was going to be- they all did, minus Cartman. Stan was getting therapy through a church program- it was free and discreet, but participating required good attendance. If he missed his appointments without 24 hour notice, he'd owe a fee and be kicked from the program. Usually he went on Wednesday afternoons, but with Thanksgiving his family had wanted him home on Wednesday night to help prep, forcing a shift this week to Friday. If Cartman knew, they were all certain, he'd try to sabotage Stan or insist the program was brainwashing him... or some bullshit like that.

They'd all agreed that Eric couldn't fucking know about it, but if Stan didn't tell him, the fat fucker was going to go into sleuth mode and everything was going to get fucked.

Dee shoved herself in-between Stan and Cartman, glaring up at the kid who had a few inches and probably eighty pounds on her. Didn't matter- it was all soft. If Eric decided to make something of this, she was going to go straight for his nuts without hesitation.

Give me a fucking reason, asshat.

"Wha-" Cartman blinked, taken aback for a second. "The fuck do you want, Douchebag? Are you too kewl for free pizza, too? I can't believe I hang out with you, you're all a bunch of pretentious lame-wads."

"No, he just wants you to leave Stan the hell alone, dude." Kyle interjected. "Back off already."

He didn't budge at first. He looked over her head to stare at Stan. Dee had no idea what kind of face Stan was making, instead focused on Eric and gritting her teeth together as tension knotted up in her shoulders, expanding on a plan of attack that started with a kick to the nards and expanded to yanking the bigger boy over and propelling him head-first into the sign for the stop. The sharp metal edges of the post would probably hurt like hell. Perfect.

Don't forget about our deal, Cartman- if we butt heads, you leave our friends out of it. I'm telling you to fuck the fuck off; your move, bitchtits.

They made eye-contact. As if having a sudden flashback, Cartman's eyes bugged out, and then his face settled into a truly soured expression, sucking the metaphorical lemon. "Fine, whateva, but you better get some extra people to help out in his place, Douchebag. Cool people- not lame-wads, I'm not sharing pizza with lame assholes like the goths or the retard kids."

The bus arrived soon after.

::The Author's Corner::

It took us three chapters, but we finally got to the goddamn plot!

Also, Butters has only just joined the team, and he's already being helpful. Because having a builder/gadget guy is always a solid addition.

ONWARDS!

-Buttlord