::Sneaker's SnacShak – Sometimes Kids are Bad at Friendship::

Dee's ears were ringing. High pitched, endless, it was the only sound she had. Had she hit her head?

What happened?

She didn't remember- she felt like she'd been hit in the face with a nine-iron, faintly aware of a split lip and dried blood on her chin. Her joints ached like she'd abused them recently, but nothing came to mind for the possible activity that might have caused the pain. She didn't know where she was, and fluttering lashes didn't do much as she opened her eyes and found herself in blurry darkness.

Slowly, the ringing faded, and muddy sounds were allowed in. The throb of her own pulse in her ears, and then... a voice; distant, but familiar.

"Dee? Oh, jeez, c'mon buddy..."

More blinking. Her vision didn't get any brighter, but she realized that was because she was sitting in a dark room. Her ass, back, and feet were fucking cold from being laid out on concrete, with odd metal objects underneath her body at various points. Above, she could see... a shattered skylight and a distant moon, creating the sharp black outline of an industrial sized hook affixed to a ceiling hoist.

Did I hit my face with that? Fuck my life...

There was more than just the giant sized hook silhouetted by the moonlight. There was also a person hovering over her- she realized now he had a hand on her, trying to help her up by grasping her shoulder and pulling. Lethargically, she engaged her core to assist, eventually coming to a seated position while her brain throbbed inside her skull.

… that's right, we were searching garages tonight to try and find out about that secret lab- a connection, maybe even the machine, but...

It was hard to think, hard to recall, the ringing still in her ears, however faint, as if it were the whirring of an electric beater that was still whipping her brains into stiff peaks for some kind of cerebral meringue.

She rubbed her face with one hand, fingers gingerly identifying her split lip. The pain yanked her in a direction, remembering running from something in here... but what?

A truck. A stranger- but what happened next? She was still seeing stars.

"I heard a gunshot from outside- and the glass shattering!" Butters exclaimed. "But I didn't find any blood, besides your face... do you need a hospital?"

I don't think so... doesn't feel like it. She shook her head, groggy and squinting around the area. Someone else had been here, that's right; she remembered sending Butters back outside when Izzy cried; the doll was still with him, cradled in his off hand and calm now. She'd proceeded alone, entered into the garage, went for the bay door, and saw a truck and...

She slapped a hand over her mouth. She remembered now; the figure in the dark! She remembered hiding near the truck, crouched low and preparing to take a picture of the covered object in the back... but before she could snap the photo, the person had stepped into the square of moonlight around the truck.

It had been Doctor Kartwright.

From there, it was a blur. There must have been some kind of scuffle; it would explain a lot of the bumps and bruises she was feeling... and a crazed run through the dark to avoid getting shot would explain how she'd been dumb enough to take a gigantic metal hook to the face and bust her lip... and a gunshot followed by shattering glass; Kartwright must have fired it like that as a scare or distraction tactic.

It was all rather fuzzy, but the longer she thought about it, the more it fell into place and felt like a real memory.

The impact with the hook must have taken her down for the count and rung her bells a bit.

Just fucking lucky that Kartwright was more interested in escape than chasing me down and putting a bullet into the back of my head. I'm lucky to be alive. What the hell is that CDC bitch playing at?!

"Oh boy- are you gonna be sick?" Butters quested. "Do you want me to hold back your hair?"

She shook her head 'no'- trust Butters to be the perfect gentlemen at the weirdest time. She needed to communicate with him, quick while it was all still fresh in her head. She fished out her phone, unlocking it and finding it open to her camera- just really had been just about to snap a picture of the truck's cargo. It had been under a cover, but she could draw a shape of it later for Wendy... though she didn't know how much that would help.

What am I thinking? Wendy is smart, she can unravel anything with next to nothing. Now that we know who the enemy is, that Kartwright has been toying with us this whole time... we can finally make some fucking progress.

Vengeful thoughts wondered what the group would come up with; much as she wanted to engage immediately, there was no way to know which way that truck had gone, and she'd failed to get any identifying information. Going straight to the cabin, alone, even with Butters would probably end poorly, and there was no way in hell that she was going to put him in danger again; not when he was still healing from the last bit of trouble she'd gotten into when she'd run off half-cocked and too sure of herself.

For now, her thumbs had backed out of her camera and gone into her text message center; useless for the rest of the party without data or internet, but perfect for typing out what happened to her so she could communicate with Butters without ill effects.

Butters would then be able to tell Kyle when they met up tonight- and she could hurry home after they scoured the back office for documents relating to recent renters... although she doubted Kartwright left behind any obvious hints. The woman had been playing them for this long, giving them just enough to think they were all on the same side. Now that she'd been found out? Dee was certain she must have attempted to destroy all evidence of what she'd been doing here.

Probably get the hell out of town, too. That's what I'd do. Doesn't matter- we're gonna nail that bitch to a wall.

"Butters! Dee! Man you guys are late... my mom isn't gonna wait up forever, we should get going. I'm already gonna get it for 'forgetting' to turn my phone back on."

Kyle had his hands stuffed into his pockets, clouds of breath billowing out into the dark as he cowered beneath the security of a streetlight. Each of their groups had gone to different places, with different travel times, but they'd all agreed to try and meet up back in the neighborhood, by the bus stop, before midnight... and it was now twenty minutes past that deadline. Knowing his mother, there was going to be a search party dispatched soon.

The presence of his stupid baby for science class didn't help; the fact that it was dead silent made him more and more worried that he'd done something to break it, as Kenny suggested... and eventually he'd gotten paranoid about the cold and improvised a child harness by unzipping his jacket slightly and slipping the doll inside, hoping that would be warm enough to appease whatever temperature sensors were in the thing... whilst also letting some of the cold get at his neck, which made his skin prickle painfully.

Finally seeing Butters and Dee approach, with Butters pulling a similar tactic to protect his doll from the cold, finally gave him a shot of relief. He'd been alone out here since Kenny had gone home to prepare for his sister's birthday.

"Sorry!' Butters shouted back, half-trotting up with both his hands clutching the doll through his shirt, ensuring it didn't bounce too much. Dee led him by a yard, smoothly jogging into the lamp light... to reveal his face had seen better days. He had a split lip and a bruised cheek, and he seemed altogether quite... ruffled.

"Whoa, are you... okay?" Kyle asked as Butters caught up.

"You won't believe it!" Butters exclaimed, speaking where Dee wouldn't. "Dee went in by hisself, cause Izzy started crying, an' he ran into the bad guy! It's the doctor!"

"The doc? You mean... the reason we all stopped using our phones because Kenny was worried about the operation getting hacked? That doctor?" Kyle blinked. Considering the group's suspicions about withheld information, it didn't seem that crazy. It would justify Kenny's paranoia about it, as well as this operation's safety precautions. That said... "You ran into her? Jesus Christ dude, how'd you get out alive?! Kenny says that lady threatened to shoot Dougie during the whole cat-napping incident."

Dee made a small shrug, and a gesture to his janked up face. The answer appeared to be with some pieces missing, but otherwise alright.

"And luck raiding the garage's records?" Kyle asked, addressing the question to Butters.

"Nah... file for the whole month was missing." Butters lamented. "No contact info or nothing. Delivery records, too."

"Clean sweep... guess that makes sense, the doc is pretty smart." Kyle sighed, feeling somewhat charged up by getting a step closer... but also deflated that they didn't have anything actionable. Not unless they wanted to storm the cabin Kartwright was renting tonight, and between himself, Butters, and a mildly beat up Dee... he wasn't sure that was a winning proposition. Less so with a pair of baby dolls who might start screeching at any moment. "Are we gonna go after her?" He asked, peering at Dee.

This was his war, after all. His call. If Dee wanted to go after the CDC lady, Kyle would back him up, and he knew Butters would, too.

He watched Dee's face twist in on itself, lips pressing tight before shaking his head; a resolute no.

"Dee was knocked out for a bit, and the Doc had a truck." Butters summarized; no doubt the pair of them had considered the option of going for it on their way back to town. "Either she's gone back to the cabin and is waiting for us, or she's made a run for the lab... either way, not worth getting grounded and havin' another hoop to jump through- his words, not mine. He wants to regroup with everyone and figure out a plan."

"Speaking of, we need to get moving." Kyle stressed, nodding his own agreement. He was sure his mom was sitting in the living room, hands on her hips, tapping her foot and utterly disappointed in him for staying out so late. "My mom is probably gonna yell at us, just a heads up."

"'s okay." Butters assured, the troop moving out. Dee would be separating off at his house, but for now they were all going the same way. "If we were stayin' at my house, my dad would lock the door an' tell me to sleep in the snow, then mom would let me in, and then I'd get grounded for makin' them unlock the door in the middle of the night- 'cause robbers mighta gotten in, and it woulda been all my-" Butters stopped in the horrific description of what his family felt discipline was, appearing to trip over his own train of thought. "Wait a second, where's Stan?"

Ugh.

Just the mention of Stan made Kyle feel a jolt of angry energy in his chest. Okay, sure, they had a little spat at lunch on Friday- where he tried to be reasonable and calm his friend down, and Stan threw it in his fucking face. He wasn't gonna hold it against the guy; he was under some stress and worried about his girlfriend taking this whole child development project way too seriously... but then Stan didn't even try to talk to him at the meeting over at Dee's house earlier that day, and then doesn't show up when his garage was closer to town?

"Sulking, probably." Kyle grumbled.

"You guys are still fighting?" Butters quested, the three of them crossing in front of the dark windows of houses on the lane. "I didn't think what happened on Friday was that bad..."

"I didn't think so either!" Kyle agreed. "But he's been all distant and weird and- if he's gonna be difficult then fuck him, y'know? We've got more important shit to deal with, and if he didn't show up I guess he didn't find anything important, did he?"

Butters was quiet for a moment. Kyle didn't look to Dee to see his reaction. He was too pissed off to care.

"You wanna go see him tomorrow morning?" Butters asked.

Yeah, of course I do. He's my best friend, he's just being stupid.

"... whatever." Kyle scoffed.

Maybe he was a little angry about the comment Stan had made, too- suggesting that he was only mad about Heidi because she dumped him. Where the hell did he even get off on making that kind of accusation? Like Stan hadnever done anything incredibly stupid just because Wendy was involved? Like, say, the fucking egg incident and getting stupid jealous? Part of him just wanted a chance to shout at the guy, tell him he was the pot calling the kettle black, just to get the ugly urge out of his body... but every time he circled around the scenario in his head, he knew Stan didn't deserve that.

They were still best friends. He'd rather have a fistfight with the guy over screaming at him.

I'll just stay away for a while and cool my jets. He's useless when he's like this, anyway.

::The Author's Corner::

I'm very pleased that the previous chapter had the kind of impact I'd hoped for.

It makes me look forward to future reveals. These middle stories have been very difficult, contributing to the rising action of the series as a whole without completely derailing the smaller plots they exist within and through.

Answers will come in time, my friends. For now, your feedback is more appreciated than you know.

:3

ONWARDS!

-Buttlord