A/N: I feel it necessary to inform you that there are only five chapters left in this story including this one. Ima try to finish it up within this week but we'll have to see haha.
And Rox, to answer your question, I do not speak French pft. I am a retard with fancy languages. The quote itself is actually from the play 'The Devil and the Good Lord' by Jean-Paul Sartre. Ironically, I learned the quote from another Linkin Park album in the song 'Hands Held High' pft. Obsessed? Me? Never.
Alrighty, enjoy~
"Get the door, Cartman," Stan hissed, his eyes darting nervously around the blackened night silhouettes of the town surrounding their base.
"I got it I got it, keep your panties on," Cartman grumbled, putting Sparky against his leg and fumbling with the foliage overtop the hideaway. He managed to creak open the large wooden barrier and let Kenny and Stan pass by him with Kyle still held in their grasp, blissfully unaware of the complete panic that was racing through his friends. Cartman grunted, grabbing Sparky once more and following them down inside, closing the door as softly as he could manage.
"Where ze shit 'ave you been?" Christophe's angry voice appeared from down the hall, hidden around the corner of the main alcove.
They all looked at each other before Stan and Kenny took lead, bringing the redhead in to the complete shock of their teammates.
"How...how on Earth did you..." Gregory's jaw dropped.
Wendy and Bebe rushed over, looking at the boy concernedly. "Lie him on the table, boys," Wendy directed. "Gregory, get that shit out of the way."
The blonde blinked before nodding, grasping at the blueprints scattered about and letting the boys lie Kyle gently on the wooden surface, staring at them with his mouth still gaping. "How did you get him out?" he whispered, shaking his head.
Kenny scoffed, pulling the scarf off of his head and shaking out his blonde hair. "By not being fucking pussies like the rest of you," he sneered. "All it fucking took was some fucking common sense and a distraction. But you fuckers weren't even willing to give Kyle that."
Christophe came up and placed his hands on Stan and Kenny's shoulders, beaming wildly, "Excellent," he nodded approvingly. "You all 'ave done amazing. I'm very proud. And Kyle will be, too."
They all gave him sheepish smiles before looking at Bebe, Wendy, and Rebecca checking Kyle for any kinds of trauma. "I think all they did was tranquilize him," Stan said softly. "Michael said he'd only be out maybe another two hours."
"Michael?" Christophe repeated with a raised brow. "Zat pussy goth kid?"
Ken nodded, "Yeah. He's apparently on the Rat's medical team."
"An infiltrator, perhaps," Gregory pipped up.
Craig snorted, "Doubtful. If he was, he would have broken Broflovski out of there on his own."
Bebe sighed, looking over Kyle's face with gentle fingers, "He's got a few bruises, probably from when he was struggling, but that's about it..." she let her fingers trace over the bullet wound still prominent on the boy's arm. "He's so lucky...it could have been so much worse," she bit her lip.
"They obviously want him for something," Token interjected, staring at the redhead with that guilt still lying in his dark eyes. "I don't think they would have done much worse to him."
Wendy sighed, throwing her long, black hair over her shoulder. "Stan, go get him some clothes. I highly doubt he's been dressed throughout this whole ordeal. He's freezing." Stan nodded and hurried off to Kyle's alcove. He stepped in cautiously, finding Ike lying on Kyle's bed, huddled up on the blanket and clutching the redhead's old, worn green ushanka desperately. He was asleep, his breath shallow and his eyebrows furrowed, soft whimpers escaping him now and again. The noirette smiled at him sadly, grabbing a pair of Kyle's jeans and a shirt folded in the corner before walking over and kneeling down in front of Ike.
"Hey," he whispered, shaking him a bit. Ike groaned, curling into himself more and shaking his head, hiding his face in Kyle's hat. "Ike, get up," he urged. "We have something to show you."
Ike raised his bloodshot eyes from the safety of his brother's treasured possession, sniffling lightly. "Like what?" he croaked, his fingers digging into the dirtied fabric.
"C'mon," he jerked his head. "You'll see," he stood, hiding Kyle's clothes behind his back and offering his hand. Ike stared for a moment before complying and grasping it back, refusing to relinquish it or the hat as they started out down the hall. Stan couldn't help the smirk from spreading over his face as he watched Ike walk with the bottom half of his face hidden in the ushanka, taking deep breaths of the scent of his brother.
They reached the main room and Ike's eyes lazily drifted around before landing on the unconscious boy on the table. His hand with the hat dropped to his side, his mouth falling in the same fashion. "K-Kyle," he croaked, his face breaking into a wider smile than any of them had ever seen on anyone throughout their whole ordeal. The girls and Kenny stepped out of the way as Ike ran up to the boy, clutching around him and burying his face into his shoulder, sobbing happily onto the icy skin. "Thank you," he looked up at Stan and Kenny with waterlogged brown eyes. "Thank you so much."
Stan smirked and shrugged, "Like we'd leave our best friend behind, regardless of whatever the fuck the vote said. You know us better than that, Broflovski."
"'Sides, Cartman helped, too," Ken jerked his thumb back at the heavyweight who was shifting uncomfortably at the mention of his aide. They all stared at the boy in a level of shock at the admittance.
"You?" Clyde raised his brow. "I'd figure you of all people would have rather just let him stay there and rot."
The brunette scowled and rolled his eyes, "He saved me once and now I helped saved him. Now we're even and none of you can ever bring up his fucking little 'heroics' again. Clear?" he snapped.
Ken and Stan smirked at each other knowingly and chuckled. "Yeah," Stan nodded. "We won't bring it up anymore."
"Good," Cartman muttered, handing Stan Sparky and walking over to a chair, plopping down with his arms crossed.
"Wow," Christophe raised his brow. "You let ze fatass 'old Sparky?"
Stan shrugged, brushing his thumb over the barrel lovingly. "Kyle gave me Sparky. Didn't matter who the fuck was holding him, but Sparky got him out of there. Another life debt repaid," he chuckled exhaustedly. "The only important thing was getting him out of there. Now we just have to wait for Kyle to wake up, he'll know what to do."
Gregory looked at the redhead and smiled brightly, "Knowing him, he already knows the layout of the entire compound. He's probably already planned a perfect course of attack."
Christophe sighed, lighting up a cigarette and walking over, staring down at the redhead intensely. "Tweek," he said sharply.
"Y-yeah?" the blonde blinked rapidly.
"Get ze cuff keys we 'ave in ze box," he waved aimlessly. "'is wrists are probably killing 'im. I doubt zhey let 'im out of zhem at any point."
Tweek nodded, tonguing over his lip and heading towards their box of mismatched keys they'd found around town, rummaging through it with Butters aiding him. Christophe continued staring at the boy and Kenny cleared his throat. "Tophe?" he asked, getting a muddled brown stare back. "What's wrong?"
He sighed and shrugged, taking a long drag. "I just do not know what zhey took 'im for. To betray us? To 'ave as ransom? I just wish we knew."
"He'll be up soon," Stan bit his lip. "He'll tell us."
"I 'ope so. I 'ope that he doesn't try to do ze 'onorable z'hing and leave us out of ze loop like 'e tends to do."
Kenny frowned, "Tophe, this is way too important. You know Kyle doesn't hide any Rat information from us."
The brunette nodded, watching as Tweek came up with a key and he snatched it from his thin, shaking fingers. He placed his cigarette in his lips, resting a strong hand on Kyle's shoulder and pushing him over onto his side, undoing the cuffs and shaking his head at the ugly sight revealed under the metal. "Wendy," he directed. "Get ze bandages. 'is wrists are torn to shit."
She grabbed her first aid kit and began dressing Kyle's wrists, wiping them down with antiseptic and binding them each in tight, stark white gauze. Craig and Token stepped up, helping lift him to redress him as the rest of the group stared in awe at the boy. No other kid had been with the Rats and lived. No one else knew a damn thing about them, had any length of a conversation with the enemy. They all looked at each other as Kyle was lied back down on the table, Rebecca placing a pillow under his head. His head fell to the side out towards them, as though he knew they were there. As though he were fighting to get back into consciousness for them. They bit their lips, watching as Christophe's smoke filled the acrid space. All they could do now was wait.
An agonizing three hours passed over the group, each of them exhaustedly sitting in chairs, waiting for any signs of stirring. Wendy and Bebe occasionally rose from their seats to check Kyle's breathing, but that was as much movement the group dared to convey. They all wanted to be there to see him wake up, to see his utter joy realizing that he was out of the Rat's nest. They wanted to know what the fuck they did to him.
A subtle groan snapped the collective into alert, watching Kyle shifting uncomfortably on the table. Kenny and Stan rose over, pushing past the girls and standing beside him, watching his face intently. "Ky, Ky come on," Stan urged, touching his arm and shaking it gently. "Ya gotta wake up."
"...Stan?" a threadbare whisper crossed the threshold.
"Yeah, yeah it's me," he said excitedly, hardly able to stop joyful tears from streaming down his face. "Come on, Buddy, ya gotta get up."
"Where?..." he started breathing a little heavier, shaking his head around and trying to find the voice.
"You're home, Kyle," Kenny said softly. "You're back at base. Come on, open your eyes."
It seemed to take all the effort in the world, his face twisting almost painfully as he tried to fulfill the request. He let out a heavy, angered sigh, his head lolling around in disorientation. He felt that damning drifting again, unable to clear the fuzziness from his head. Stan and Kenny's voices did little to calm his nerves, unable to comprehend Kenny telling him that he was back home. He started to panic, thinking they'd been captured with him. "No..." he cried out, his body trying to jerk itself into motion.
"Boys, out of the way," Wendy ordered, pushing them aside and placing a hand on Kyle's forehead while Bebe grasped his shoulder gently. "Kyle, Sweetie, you're safe."
"No, no, no," he shook his head as quickly as he could manage, his teeth gritting, his eyes still unable to pry themselves open. "Not...leave them...no..." he had tears trickling down his cheeks, completely unhinged.
"Sweetie, Sweetie it's okay," Bebe urged, petting his hair softly. "Kyle you're just fine. We're all here. No one is in danger."
Kyle's mouth fell a bit and he gulped in some air, his throat throbbing something awful. He wanted to believe the sweet voices ringing in his ears. But he couldn't tell if he was dreaming. He was completely lucid, his heart pounding in utter distraught. He could very well still be in the Rat's clutches, fighting against men holding him down and he'd never know it. "L-lemme go," he pleaded. "I-I don't...I can't..." he tried moving his arms, finding them at his sides, no longer restrained behind them. It only made him all the more confused. He still couldn't move them, as though the air itself was holding him down, telling him to submit.
"Michael said he got better really quickly after the last time he woke up," Stan whispered, staring at his best friend with wide, scared eyes.
Wendy looked at him in shock, "They double dosed him?"
"I...I would assume?" he shrugged.
"Fuck, no wonder he's fucking delusional," she set her lips in a grim, angry line. "We gotta wake him up before he loses it completely and he's out for another twelve hours."
"'ow do we do zhat?" Christophe grated his lip.
"Ike, Ike you talk to him," Bebe motioned him over.
Ike hurried to his brothers side, grasping at his hand and watching his panicking face worriedly. "Kyle? Kyle it's me, it's Ike," he gulped. "Ky, you gotta wake up. You have to!"
"I-Ike...no..." he gasped out, scratching wildly with fumbling fingers. "G-gotta...Ike, run..." he coughed.
"No, come on, Kyle," he begged. "No one needs to run. You just need to open your eyes. We're all here and we're just waiting for you. Come on...please..." he sobbed out, not used to seeing his ever-sharp brother on the brink of madness. Kyle let out a long-winded cry, his body still shaking uncontrollably.
"Fuck me, he's gonna pass out again," Wendy breathed, reaching under Kyle's head and holding it upright. "We gotta...ugh..." she groaned. "Ken, Stan, sit him up." They both took a side of Kyle's back, hoisting him upright. The boy's head dropped forward and Wendy pushed it back to clear his airway, watching his rapidly moving eyes under thin lids.
"Wake up, Jew!" Cartman's voice finally broke through, walking over and staring at him angrily.
"Car...Cart..." Kyle meekly responded, trying to find the source of the noise.
"Eric...don't yell at-" Butters started before Kenny stopped him.
"No! Cartman, fucking piss him off!" he ordered.
The brunette smirked. "Well since you asked so nicely. Kahl, get the fuck up you money-grubbing no good Jew!" The barest essence of a growl escaped the redhead's throat, his mouth gaping open for deep, desperate breaths. "Come on, don't tell me being with the Rats for one day made you a pussy like them," he drawled, watching with glee as he was able to get away with his words, everyone hoping that they'd work.
"His arms are tensing, is that good?!" Stan blinked.
"Yes, it means he's coming around," Wendy nodded. "Eric, keep fucking going!"
"C'mon, Jewrat," he urged, crossing his arms and raising his brow at the boy. "Some fucking leader you are. The only thing you seem to be good for is being a whiny little pussy-ass kike!" he shouted. Green eyes slowly started emerging from their lashed prisons, fluttering madly.
"He's waking up, put him back down," Bebe ordered, helping the others slowly lower him back onto his back.
"...Fuck...you...Fat...ass..." Kyle breathed out angrily, his eyes trying to focus hazily on the dirt ceiling above him.
"Oh thank fuck," Kenny couldn't help but laugh, brushing his hair back. "He's still in there."
The group all looked at each other and each of them sighed in relief, glancing back at the redhead still trying to gather his bearings. He blinked and groaned, arching up uncomfortably. "Where the fuck..." he narrowed his brows.
Stan and Kenny popped up over him and his pupils shrunk madly, "You're home, Ky," Kenny grinned cheekily.
Kyle blinked in shock, looking at his two friends, wondering if he was caught in a dream again. "Is...is it real?" he whispered.
Stan nodded, "Yeah, Dude. It's real."
"I...I can't..." he gulped, trying to sit up and finding himself unable to and he groaned in frustration.
"You're still a little drugged, Sweetie," Wendy cooed. "Do you want to sit up?" Kyle nodded, licking over his dry lips and sniffling. "All right, let's get two chairs and set him up," she directed.
Clyde and Craig each handed over their chairs, watching as Stan and Kenny lifted the redhead and put him down into them, placing his legs into one to help keep his balance. "How's that, Ky?" Kenny asked, brushing ember tendrils from his eyes.
"Thank you," he rasped.
Tweek frowned, walking over with his water bottle and holding it by Kyle's face. "Do you need a-a drink?" he asked timidly. Kyle nodded and Tweek bit his lip, leaning the boy's head back and giving him the rim of the bottle. The boy blinked, letting the water rush into his mouth, gulping as well as he could, feeling the pain in his parched throat subsiding. He could vaguely feel two trails of the liquid rushing down either side of his mouth and dribbling down his neck but he couldn't care less, just thankful for the moment of reprieve. Tweek took back his bottle and Kyle coughed, giving him a small, weak smile. Tweek nodded briskly and backed up between Craig and Clyde against the wall, staring at him with the rest of the team.
Kyle finally shook his head and sighed, his mind finally starting to reach him once again. "How did I get here?" he asked softly.
"Me, Ken, and Cartman broke you out," Stan said, grabbing his own chair and sitting beside the redhead, Kenny taking the other end. "We tricked the Rats into thinking one of us shot one of their fucking soldiers."
Kyle smiled and nodded approvingly in soft, subtle motions, his eyes slipping closed. "I told you you're smart enough for intel," he chuckled.
"Are you okay, Kyle?" Kenny asked, staring at him concernedly. "Did they hurt you or anythin'?"
He shook his head a bit. "No. Got punched a few times but..." he opened his eyes back up as realization struck him. The deal. Oh no. His face fell into horror and the team recoiled a bit.
"Kyle? Kyle what iz it?" Christophe frowned.
The redhead looked up around them and bit his lip. "Guys...you...you shouldn't have...I have to..." he looked towards the entrance of the base and gulped. His eyes scanned over the group, landing on Gregory. "Did you find somewhere to hide the kids?" he asked lowly.
He shook his head slowly, "Kyle...I-I don't think we have anywhere that we could..."
"Bullshit," he growled, his eyes beginning to spark back with that determination that filled his teammates with a flood of relief. "Get me my blueprints. Now," he barked.
"Jesus, awake for five minutes and he's back to normal," Token chuckled as Gregory hurriedly grabbed the papers from the floor behind the table.
Kyle looked at him and took a shuddery breath. "I don't have time to not do this," he said angrily. "I...fuck," he spat, grating his lip in fury. He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. This wasn't good. He was here. He wasn't where he could prevent things from going wrong...
He opened them to Gregory's voice, "Here," he said. "I think you'll find that you won't find any options, either," he frowned indignantly.
Kyle scoffed, trying to raise his arms to grab the papers and unable to do so. He growled, "Oh for the love of-"
"We got it, Ky," Stan said hurriedly, knowing full and well that his best friend's patience was wearing off. He and Kenny opened it over Kyle's lap, watching his analytical eyes scanning through every possible out. He smirked and looked up at Gregory with a snort.
"How long did you study this, Gregory?"
He raised his brow, "Since your transmission this morning."
"Jesus fucking Christ I knew I should've taken you on raids," he shook his head. "The community center," he looked around at the team.
Christophe raised his brow, "Zat is where zhey keep ze supplies. Not exactly ze most subtle place to 'ide zhem."
He grinned crookedly, "But it's not that well protected and it's the only building big enough to get all of the kids into. Remember, it's separated from the rest of town, they don't have much in that area to watch over," he reminded them, his eyes scanning down the lot. "There's usually ten guards surrounding the outskirts of the building and two inside. There's eight of us usually on the field. We each take a fucking gun, snipe them down as quickly as possible with silencers to keep from making too big of a ruckus, and get the kids inside. If we rush the two within the building, we'll take control back in no time. Then we just have people stationed outside for stray Rats that may want to come investigate."
"And just how do we keep all the Rats from rushing us, hm?" Gregory crossed his arms, obviously embarrassed that he hadn't even began to think of a plan and Kyle managed to do it in three minutes under the influence of a sedative.
Kyle frowned, his shoulders sinking sadly. He bit his lip as Kenny and Stan threw the prints behind them, knowing that expression of his anywhere. "Ky?" Kenny asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"Can't think of anything?" Gregory raised his brow.
Kyle took a deep breath and looked him straight on, the steely green of his eyes fading back in and making the blonde jerk a tad in fright. "I know exactly what to do..." he looked around at the team again and sighed. "We get the kids in there, we keep them protected and...and I give them me."
They all blinked at him in confusion. "What...whaddya mean?" Stan squeaked.
"They want me. Their commander...he...he wants me to lead an army for him..." he gritted his teeth furiously, seeing that damning gentle smile circulating his mind. "The Rats killed our parents, they wanted us to go feral, to become a town of soldier kids. Ones that couldn't remember what they were fighting for, they just wanted to find an enemy and rip them to shreds..."
"Jesus..." Gregory backed away from him and stood beside Christophe who was staring in shock at the boy.
"Kyle," he said gruffly, waiting until pools of green locked into his stare. "What do zhey want you for?"
He shrugged as much as his limited movements allowed. "He wants me to come with them and...take another town," he lowered his eyes guiltily. "He wants me to infiltrate the kids left behind and train them to becoming the 'perfect society'," he mocked.
"Why only you, though?" Craig raised his brow.
"Isn't it obvious?" Christophe scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Kyle iz ze only one who can fight and z'hink. Zhere's a reason we weren't making progress with 'im gone."
Kyle blushed and sighed, "Yeah. Their commander pretty much put me on a fucking pedestal..." he shuddered. "They've been watching me for over a year, just waiting for me...H-he told me the only reason they hadn't killed all the kids yet is that they were waiting for me...to have something to hold over my head and get me on their side."
"Ah, zhey said either you join or zhey kill us all, oui?" Tophe raised his brow.
"Yeah," he nodded, gulping. "I...I kinda wish you hadn't rescued me," he looked at Stan and Kenny with glistening eyes. "You know I appreciate it...but now everyone's in danger because of me...I have to go back."
"You can't!" Stan protested. "Kyle, you'll be part of a group killing kids!"
"Well they're going to kill kids whether I'm there or not, Stan!" he shot back furiously. "Fuck, you think I don't fucking know what this entails? But at least if I comply with them, I can save South Park's kids. Maybe I can train another town's kids to rebel and take the Rats down and end it once and for all...maybe..." he trailed off staring at the ceiling with misted eyes, panting from his outburst. This was too much. His heart felt pulled in every direction.
The group fell silent, watching Kyle carefully with sympathetic gazes, each of them feeling the weight of his decision within the confines of the room. "Kyle..." Christophe said quietly. "You...you cannot do zhis. You are dooming yourself if you do."
"What else can I do, Tophe?" he lowered his head and looked at him desperately. "It's me or them. One life is not worth so many others...I..." he dropped his head down and sniffled, his reserve beginning to break with the strain of his circumstance. Ike came over and gently wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding onto his older brother tightly.
"Please don't, Kyle," he begged him, clasping onto him tighter. "I can't lose you again," he whispered.
Kyle bit his lip, looking out of the corner of his eye at his distraught brother and feeling his heart breaking. He couldn't imagine what Ike had been through the past day, he knew well enough that if the situations were reversed, he would have been a complete disaster. "Ike...I...have to..."
"No, you don't," he said firmly, tears leaking down onto Kyle's shoulder. "Don't be a martyr for this. You'd sooner die than be a Rat and you know it."
Kyle's body limply sunk at his words and he nodded. "I know," he whispered. "But...I'd also rather be a Rat than watch other people die because I couldn't swallow my fucking pride."
"Don't be a fucking pussy," Cartman hissed. Kyle looked up at him in shock with the rest of them as the brunette fumed. "We risked everything to save your scrawny ass and you just wanna crawl back to them with your fucking Jew tail between your legs?"
"Cartman I-"
"No," he cut him off. "You shut the fuck up and you listen to me for once in your no good life." Kyle nodded slowly and he took a deep breath. "The Rats aren't going to fucking change because of you. They may be obsessed with getting you on their team, but they're always going to be bloodthirsty pieces of shit. And it's going to end one of two ways for you:" he glared. "Either you're going to be killed because you won't train kids up to their standards, or you're going to turn into an equally war-hungry piece of shit. Kids are going to die no matter what you do. So, Kahl, would you rather die as your usual moralistic piece of shit self, fighting for what you actually give a fuck about? Or are you okay just going out as another Rat bastard to throw in that graveyard?"
Kyle's mouth dropped at his words, staring at the brunette in shock. He gulped and dropped his gaze to the floor, searching around desperately for his answer. "But...I...and they...kids..." he gritted his teeth again, shaking in his place.
Kenny placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbed the muscle tenderly. "Kyle, Michael said to tell you 'the contract probably won't matter'...does that mean anything to you?"
The redhead nodded slowly and grated over his lip. He shut his eyes and took a long, shuddery breath. "Now I'm right back to square one," he whispered.
"Whaddya mean?" Clyde asked.
"I mean I'd made up my mind about what I was going to do...now I'm not so-" he stopped as a voice that made him go rigid entered the room.
"The bug again?" Gregory raised his brow. Ike blinked, walking over and retrieving the receiver, setting it on the table and once again raising the volume.
"Mr. Broflovski, I do hope you're listening," Peter's voice rang clear. "And if not, I'm sure your little friends will pass the message on."
"How the fuck..." Kyle whimpered.
"I must say, Mr. Broflovski, at first I honestly thought you chose this room to run to to get to the window. But then I find this crafty little bug on the floor and well, I can tell you're much too resourceful to think you can leap out of a guarded window and get away. You killed three men just to get a message to your friends. Wonderfully brutal," he laughed. "Tell your friends good job on rescuing you, though. Michael is still unconscious, but he'll wake up in his cell and figure it all out," he chuckled a bit. Kyle growled as the rest of the team stared blankly at the receiver.
"I know how hard this must be on you, Kyle. Finding yourself with your friends once again but knowing just what it is you need to do. You know exactly what side of this battle you need to be on, but I understand your hesitation. I will give you until seven o' clock this evening. When that time comes, I want you to meet me in front of the main building to discuss your future. I will do you a kindness and not have any of your friends shot down should they stand by you, that is, unless you fail to comply with our generous offer. The clock is counting down, Mr. Broflovski. Don't let your family fall because of your pride. I'll see you then," he finished before the transmission cut out completely.
Ike frowned, shaking his head, "Bastard broke it," he mumbled before looking at his older brother who was looking beyond petrified. "Kyle..." he started.
The redhead stared blankly at his legs, his eyes brimming with anxiety. "What do I do?" he whispered finally, shaking his head.
Christophe got to his feet, walking over in front of the redhead. He bent down, grabbing Kyle's chin and staring at him with determined eyes. "You do what you are best at, Broflovski," he said firmly. "You use your smarts and figure out what iz best. We will support you either way."
"But...but..."
"Non," he shook him a bit. "No matter what, you must decide for yourself what iz best. You 'ave 'eard our opinions. You take until tonight to figure it out. We will gather ze kids and hide zhem away while you do so."
Kyle nodded meekly. "I...I'm so sorry," he shook his head.
"Don't be sorry," Stan frowned. "Ky, you didn't start this war."
Kyle looked at him with saddened, sunken green eyes, his best friend's chest twisting at the sight of them. So rare was it that Kyle showed any signs of emotion besides anger anymore. It was so unusual now to see any sign of him breaking under the pressures of a decision. Stan had to shake himself back into reality as Kyle's gentle tone broke back through the room. "No, I didn't. But I get to decide how it ends."
A/N: Agh I'm having so much fun with this idek what to do with myself.
Thanks for R&Ring!