Warning: The following chapter contains heavy offensive language, and may not be suitable for sensitive readers. If you're not used to the South Park humor and/or don't like it, then please don't read this fan fiction. If you are not a fan of Yaoi or this particular pairing, then please don't read this Fan Fiction. If you're a perfectionist who insists that the author must get absolutely everything right or it's the end of the world, then PLEASE don't read this fan fiction. XD

I do not own any of the mentioned characters. All characters belong to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

Chapter Three

"Cartman! Cartman, you asshole! Open the door!"

The familiar, frantic-sounding voice bounced off the walls of the redhead's mind as he slowly began to come to. His head whirled, aching, and bringing on a dizzy sensation that often left the boy vomiting and passing out. He could never really take head-aches well. But the question was... why had it formed?

"Augh, that son of a bitch! I knew he was up to something, when I saw him walking through the backyard." The voice, which seemed to be growing closer and closer to the waking boy, grumbled grumpily. His tone was followed by an irritated huff. "God damn it, Cartman."

"...Stan?"

Kyle managed to croak out his friend's name as he began to slip into the world of consciousness. His head began to ache less, but there was still that dizzy sensation that left him feeling sick. Just speaking made him want to throw up. Just what the Hell had happened to him?! And with Stan's rant, he knew Cartman had something to do with it. ...Of 'course he did. That fatass was always causing trouble for Kyle. Most of his mischief toward the Jewish boy was because of the redhead's religion. Or sometimes, Cartman was just bored, and wanted to have some fun. Or sometimes... his acts of trouble was for revenge.

All at once, memories from the day before began to wash into Kyle's head. Standing at the bus stop in the morning. Then sitting in Mr. Garrison's stupid History class, where all he talked about were sexy men and boring reality TV shows (how the Hell had be not been caught by the Principal after all these years?). Then during lunch. Oh, yes. Kyle could remember it now. He remembered feeling so God-damned alive and happy, watching the whole cafeteria laugh at Cartman, while the racist asshole angrily shifted from one foot to the other. Oh, it was amazing. It was priceless. To put the douche-bag in such a position. ...He'd admit it. What he did was mean. But the no-good Jew-hating unintelligent dick deserved it, after all the shit that he had put Kyle and the others through. He imagined Cartman would try to bring on revenge (after he'd gone home and cried to his new stuffed animals, of 'course). Perhaps he'd just pull another sick joke, like he had all the other times that someone managed to piss him off. Oh, there were so many options Cartman could choose from to absolutely ruin Kyle. And Kyle knew this. But what had be done this time?

Kyle's eyes slowly began to fall open, allowing the world around him to seep into his vision. At first, everything was a blur. It was too dark to see most of where he was, and it was very... very cold. He hadn't realized how cold he was, until he noticed his body shaking under the thin layer of pajamas he wore. Goosebumps trailed along his skin, pricking at his arms and legs.

It wasn't until after a couple of big blinks, and the rub of his hand, that Kyle's blurred vision finally cleared. Slowly (very slowly, since his head hurt like a bitch), Kyle began to raise himself up into a sitting position. His hand rested against the cold, solid ground as he pulled himself up. By the feel of the ground, he could note that he wasn't outside. The ground was freezing, yes, but not covered in snow or dirt.

"Kyle! You're awake!"

Kyle nearly jumped at Stan's eager tone. He'd forgotten his friend was there. The redhead slowly lifted his head to cast his gaze in the raven-haired boy's direction. As his head moved, his curly red locks fell over his face. He gave an irritated frown and brushed the hair away, but they only fell over his green eyes again.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm awake." Kyle spoke tiredly. Through the darkness, he could see Stan's figure walking closer to him. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his coat, hidden from the cold of the outside world. Kyle eyed Stan's coat, wishing he had his own at that moment. Shivering and freezing was not something Kyle liked.

"Cartman's a fucking asshole, dude." Stan grumbled. Kyle raised an eyebrow as the youth plopped down beside him.

"I'm aware that Cartman's an asshole." Kyle reminded his best friend, his tone a little less tired-sounding than before. "Where are we? Did Cartman put us here?"

"We're in my Uncle Jimbo's bomb shelter." Stan informed the redhead. "Cartman carried you here in a bag. I think he drugged you."

Kyle frowned lightly, and tried to remember whatever event that took place, where Cartman would have drugged him. He remembered his parents reminding him that they'd be going to work early, and wouldn't come back home until later that evening. Then he remembered crawling into the bed, and kind of falling asleep, but... he didn't remember seeing Cartman, or being drugged.

"That seems like something Cartman would do." Kyle finally answered Stan. "But I don't remember him drugging me." "Well, I think he did." Stan replied. Through the dark, Kyle could just barely see his silhouette leaning forward to grab something. In a matter of moments, Kyle felt a giant sack plop in his lap. "I think Cartman drugged you, put you in a bag, tied you up, and then dragged you here."

Kyle tried to see the bag through the darkness. He ran his cold, bare hands over the material of the cloth. It wasn't a plastic bag (thank God), but it was the kind of material that was prickly and unpleasant. Like a rough rope. It was big enough to fit an adult inside, and Kyle had no doubt that Stan was right. Cartman must of drug him, stuck him inside a bag, and planned to trap him inside Stan's Uncle Jimbo's bomb shelter. The only thing that didn't make sense, was why Stan was here with him.

"Why are you here?" Kyle asked, tilting his head up to try to look at his friend again. "Did he throw you in a bag and drag you here too?"

"No, I'm house-sitting for my Uncle while he's out in Denver for a couple weeks." Stan replied. "I saw Cartman walking in the backyard, and then going into the Bomb-Shelter. So I got dressed and followed him. And..."

There was a gasping sound from Stan, and Kyle nearly (again) jumped as Stan's figure launched up in the darkness, and began to run for the latter.

"Stan?" Kyle asked, obvious worry lingering in his voice. He began to pull himself to his feet. "Stan? Hey, what's wrong?"

"My Uncle Jimbo!" Stan gasped. "He only left a couple days ago! He won't be here for weeks, dude! We're going to be trapped in here for weeks!"

Kyle began to walk toward the latter, though he stopped as he heard Stan begin to bang on the door of the shelter.

"Hey! Let us out of here, you fatass!" Stan's voice sounded from the top of the bomb shelter. "Son of a bitch! You can't just leave us here for weeks! God damn it, Cartman!"

"Dude, Stan, calm down!" Kyle called up to his friend. "I'm sure people will notice we're missing, and go looking for us. Think about it, Stan. We won't show up at school today. The Principal will call our parents, wondering where we are. When they all realize we're missing, they'll go out looking. They usually result to looking in bomb shelters. Remember when Cartman did this to Butters? We all started looking in places like this. We'll be found by the end of tonight. Or maybe tomorrow."

"Think about it, Kyle." Stan called back down to his friend. He continued to pound away at the cold metal door. "Cartman wanted you to be here. He's obviously going to have some kind of story made up for you, so that people won't go looking. And if they did, they certainly wouldn't be looking in the spot that Cartman wanted to put you." The banging finally stopped, and Kyle could see Stan's body begin to descend the latter. "We're locked inside here. I don't think there's another way out. I think... I think we're fucked."

"But that doesn't make sense, Stan." Kyle tried to keep his voice calm, though his growing worry was noticeable. "I mean, it seems too... out of character for Cartman, you know? Throwing us into a bomb-shelter for a couple days... or maybe even a week does sound like something he would do, but... I would expect him to make this a bigger deal than it is. He usually explains his plans to us. He usually wants a reaction." Kyle frowned lightly. "It isn't like him to just dump us somewhere and leave."

"Maybe there's more to this." Stan was on the ground now, his footsteps growing closer and closer as he made his way toward Kyle. "Maybe he's going to do something worse later. Maybe he's just saving seeing our reaction, until he's finally completed whatever big thing he was going for."

"Now that sounds like Cartman." Kyle mumbled. "I don't expect you to have brought your phone with you."

"Oh, shit. No," Stan grumbled. "I left it in Jimbo's house, with my stuff. I knew it was Cartman in the backyard, so I didn't feel like I needed to bring it out."

"Then all we have to do is wait." Kyle informed, a little more confident now. "Cartman's just locking us away until he's done with whatever big plan he's got. Then he'll free us to see our reaction or something. I'm sure it'll be a matter of days before the fatass returns."

"Maybe you're right." Stan sighed. "That sounds more like Cartman. I guess we'll just have to wait for him to come back."

"Wendy Testaburger?"

"Here!"

"Leopold Stotch?"

"My name is Butters..."

"Clyde Donavan?"

"Here!"

"Eric Cartman?"

"Here!"

"Token Black?"

"Here, Mr. Garrison."

"Craig Tucker?"

Silence filled the student-infested classroom. Mr. Garrison's eyebrows raised in a questioning gesture, as he let his eyes scan the room. Most of the students patiently sat in their seats, eyes forward, ready to learn for the day. It was roll-call, and everyone had to announce their presence when their name was called. However, it was the same every morning with one particular student. It didn't take Garrison long before he found who he was looking for. Craig Tucker sat in his seat, his hat tugged over his messy hair. His right hand was raised in the air, his middle finger pointed up and at the teacher. Garrison lightly growled and temporarily shut his eyes, shaking his head.

"Craig, please excuse yourself to the principal's office. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my classroom."

It was the same line Garrison said every day, every month, and every school year. He'd preform roll-call, and send Craig to the Principal's office halfway through. Craig always came back, though. Flipping the teacher off became such a regular thing, that hardly any of the other staff members even cared anymore. But still, Craig always obeyed the command. He slid out of his desk and crossed the room, opening the classroom door and then leaving. He'd be back in ten minutes.

"Kenny McCormick?"

"Mmph!"

"Stan Marsh?"

More silence. Garrison looked up from his little clipboard that held the list of names again, and let his eyes scan the row of desks. Most of the students were placed in their desks, but two of the little pieces of furniture, in the middle row, remained empty. Garrison's brows slowly began to knit together in a light frown.

"Huh. That's strange. Stan and Kyle are usually at school every morning." He noted out loud as he continued to stare at the desks. Perhaps if he stared long enough, they might just suddenly appear. It was a teacher's dream.

"They're probably out saving the world or something."

The voice came from Clyde, who's desk sat in the front row. He rested one of his cheeks against his hand, while the other tapped his pencil against his desk. "That always seems to happen with them." He mumbled.

There was a gasp, and then a cry from the back of the room. "S-S-Saving the w-world?! Augh, G-God! That's t-t-too much pressure! AHH!"

"Jesus Christ, calm down, Tweek." It was Cartman who spoke next. The heavier teenager sat on the very far side of the room, toward the window. He was leaned back in his seat, his legs propped up against the table, one hand behind his head, which he used as a makeshift pillow. "I swear to God, it's like, every day with that freak. Your parents need to stop giving you coffee."

"Sh-Shut up, E-Eric!" Tweek cried out, his voice ringing from the far other side of the room. "I-I-I h-have A.D.D.!" The blonde mess twitched and shook, shakily holding his mug of coffee to his lips as he took another sip.

"Mhm." Cartman yawned, showing his obvious boredom. "You're going to die of a heart attack, Tweek."

"If you don't die first, tubby." Token's voice sounded from next to Wendy's desk, toward the back of the room. He was sitting upright, his back straight. Though his head was down, looking at the math book upon the wooden surface of his desk. He wrote down math problems on a piece of paper.

"What did you just call me?!" Cartman's offense was obvious. His brows came together to form a furious glare. He scrambled out of his desk and began to make his way toward Token. "You wanna say that to my face again, blackie?!"

"Alright, students, that's enough!" Mr. Garrison finally piped up from the front of the classroom. He frowned toward Cartman's direction. "Eric, sit the Hell down, so I can continue on with my class! Unless you also want to be sent to the principal's office?"

"It's Token's fucking fault!" Cartman spat. "He started it!"

"Me? You're the one that was ripping on Tweek!" Token looked up from his book and shot Cartman an annoyed frown. "How about you stop only caring about yourself, and learn to respect other people?"

"Kiss my ass, Token." Cartman grumbled. He flashed Garrison another light glare, before slowly making his way back to his desk. The teacher in green gave a small sigh of relief, thankful that Cartman didn't appear to feel like taking things a step further. He really wasn't in the mood today. He'd only drank half a cup of coffee.

...Now he was jealous of his blonde student, for always carrying a nice cup around. Always prepared for the morning antics.

Quickly, Garrison scribbled down his students' statuses, marking both Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski as absent, before calling one of the students up to take the list to the principal. When the student left, Garrison went ahead and grabbed a peace of chalk.

"Okay, class. Today we will be discussing the cast of Star Wars..."

Thanks for reading! This chapter is a bit short, and it doesn't include any romantic Style, but don't worry! The romance is on it's way, my friends! :3 If you enjoyed, leave a review! It makes me more than happy to see comments on my work. ^-^

(I apologize if I got any facts wrong. I am a huge South Park fan, but I know sometimes I can slip up and make mistakes.)