If Pete felt anymore guilty, he'd rip out his own stomach. And it was made worse when he heard Stan begin to stir from his forced slumber.
"Ugh… Wha…? Ky… Kyle? Wassa matter?" He opened his eyes and saw his boyfriend mutilated and bloody, with a dead-eye stare, much like that of a fish. Fear gripped the athlete and he screamed. "WHAT THE HELL?! KYLE! OH GOD! KYLE! NO! NO!"
The Goth couldn't help but notice the head vampire smirking ear-to-ear at this.
The hysterical ones entertained Mike the most, Pete realized. He flashed back to his own kidnapping when he recalled that Tweek had been among the victims and screamed more than anyone else, to date, and Mike had eaten up his panic like it was candy. That haunted, terrified look on the blonde's face would never leave his memory. The look of torture as Mike kissed him right in front of Craig was the worst, though. Pete briefly wondered if he looked similar, when the vampire kissed him.
Stan then proceeded to break down for a whole five minutes before finally calming down enough to take in his surroundings, and when he does, the Goths familiar face is the first thing he sees. "Pete… Pete is that you?! What the hell happened here?! What's going on?!"
Mike gave a taunting smirk. "Yes, Pete. Explain what happened to your friend's lover."
Was this a trick? Mike had explicitly stated that no one was to breathe a word of their actions to anyone, even within the society, unless it was with Mike himself or his close-lackeys. Pete was ranked the lowest of the low - likely due to his association with the Hot Topic incident - and found that this meant he earned the hatred of the rest of the society, save Mike of course.
So when Mike declared for him to clarify the death of poor Kyle Broflovski, it was no surprise he was taken aback. Did he expect him to say nothing, per his word? Did he expect a curt, "He was killed and deemed unfit for the ceremony."? Did he imagine Pete saying something dramatic, like Mike was known to do? Did he expect him to tell the truth, as unlikely as it seemed?
But yet another thought was nagging at his thoughts. Where the fuck was Mysterion?
"Well?" Mike asked, glaring at his captive minion with a hostility like cold fire. "Don't you have anything to say to him?" The rage melted away as an understanding gaze took over. "Oh... Of course. I had forgotten. You don't have friends. Only targets and the society. You've outgrown "friends" if I'm not mistaken."
"Pete...?" Stan whimpered, stifling tears.
"...I'm sorry Stan….but it's true." Pete speaks up; his voice coming out very steady and cold. "I'm no longer in need of your type of companionship. All I need in my life to make me happy is the society. And nothing is going to change that."
The horrendous, blasphemous, lie made Pete go from feeling like trash to scum of the world. But...it was what Mike wanted to hear.
"I"m glad to hear you say that." Mike states as a smirk forms on his features; his fake, faintly blood-stained vampire fangs showing through for the first time that evening. "Because, as it just so happens, I have business that needs attending to. And since you don't need anyone else but the society...you won't have a problem finishing off Stanley here while I step out."
At that moment, the Goth swore he felt his heart stop for a whole five seconds.
"...w-what do you mean….f-finish him off?"
"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Mike hisses; sounding slightly annoyed now. "I want you to kill him. End his pathetic excuse for a life. Whatever you want to call it, just get it done, and have it finished by the time I get back. There will be serious consequences if you don't."
He has to be bluffing. Pete told himself in his mind. There's no way he can make me do this. He said himself at the last sacrificing that I was far from ready.
"B-But...you told me last time...I-I was far from ready to do this." Pete stutters out.
Mike just gives an uninterested shrug before saying, "Plans change. Oh, and just so you don't get any big ideas about freeing the two remaining prisoners," The head vampire then paused to bring his fingers to his lips, and gives a loud, attention grabbing whistle. "Hey! Vladimir! Get over here, and make sure Pete kills Marsh! I need to step out, and make a very important phone call."
In moments, a pale boy with dark-purple highlights emerges from the shadows.
"Of course, my dark master." Vladimir replies as obediently as a dog to it's owner. "It is my greatest pleasure to serve you."
"Indeed." Mike says dismissively; obviously not in the mood for the other male's excessive brown-nosing. "Just see to it that Pete fulfills his obligations while I'm away." With this, the head vampire then turns, and walks out of the room without another word.
The air felt thick as Pete slowly walked towards Stan with a somber gaze. He wanted to apologize. With Vladimir over his shoulder, it was nerveracking. He hadn't ever killed anyone before. He threatened to, of course, but that was different.
The Goth held the tubing and syringe in his hand. He made the god-awful mistake at looking his victim in the eyes. Stan was hurt. Betrayed. Stung, even. Mostly afraid though. Afraid and confused. With a friend like Pete, revealing to be part of the group behind the vast string of disappearances, how could Pete even judge him for that?
"I… I'm so sorry…" Pete whispered, trying not to let the tears welling up in his eyes fall down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry…"
"I… Just… Why?!"
"I-I can't tell you…"
"Why, Pete?! Why do this?! Why do this for the vampires?! For your enemies?! They're the ones who took Firkle, aren't they? He's dead now because of them, isn't he?! And Craig and Tweek too! And Butters and Bradley and…" The athlete then trailed off, and a sudden look of realization filled his eyes. "...You fucking monster...you...you killed Kyle!"
"Stan, you have it all wrong!" Pete argued. "I was dragged into it just like you two were! Like they all were!"
"Oh, sure, and I bet you were "dragged" into murdering Kyle, too!"
"Enough!" Vladimir interjected the quarrel; taking a small step forward. "You've stalled long enough, Pete. Either finish him, or Mike 'll finish you."
"J-Just...give me a goddamned minute!" Pete hisses at the other; refusing to actually look at him. "Can't you let me have a freaking second to talk to him?!"
"Yeah! This psychotic bastard has some explaining to do!" Stan sneers.
"No, Mike has forbade you from any sort of communication with the victims." Vladimir replies coldly. "Either do as he commanded now, or face his wrath later."
The Goth felt a lump in his throat, and his hand clutched the syringe tighter. He didn't have a choice now. Slowly he gave a nod, and shakingly positioned the device; trying his best not to meet the athlete's angered glare. Drawing a shaky breath, he then closes his eyes, and forces himself against every fiber of his being to slam his arm forward.
Stan screeched in pain as the needle pierced his neck.
"You bastard!" Stan hisses out; wincing only slightly. "You unbelievable prick! When I get free of these restraints, you're dead! You hear me?! Dead!"
"Good luck with that." Vladimir says with a smirk. "Craig Tucker himself, the strongest kid at South Park Elementary, couldn't break free of those straps. You're not nearly as strong as he was, Marsh. You're screwed."
Blood started pumping from his veins, taking his strength with him as every little drop began pouring out of him; bit by bit and drop by drop.
Knowing full well that speaking aloud would cause suspicion, Pete mouthed his words to Stan once he saw the other's struggling dying down via blood-loss in hopes he could explain himself before it was too late. "I'm doing this against my will, and I didn't mean a word of what I said earlier. I just said what Mike wanted to hear. I'm so, so fucking sorry, Stan. I'm...I'm so fucking sorry..."
"I… I knew something was up…" Stan stuttered in a low voice, starting to feel a bit drained as he continued his futile attempts to pull at his restraints. "W-Why didn't you just… say so?"
"I would have been killed… I'm just...so fucking sorry…" Pete whispers.
"It… It's okay, Pete. I...understand now." Stan struggles to reply.
Pete felt tears form in his eyes as Stan became pale and cold to the touch. He was clinging to life with every ounce of his strength. "Please," Pete whispered. "I-If you see the others in the afterlife… Tell them I failed, and that...I never meant for this to happen."
"Hey! What are you mumbling over there?" Vladimir hissed.
Pete coughed, trying to get past the searing pain in his throat from choking back tears - refusing to let them roll down his cheeks. "I… was telling him how this was inevitable. No one will escape us…"
"...Carry on then. So I can hear, of course." The vampiric cronie says with a satisfied smirk.
Vladimir, so help me god, if I ever get the courage to, you're next on the list of people to kill. Right after the chief bastard himself. Pete thought, wishing the cruelest death possible on all the vampires, knowing deep down that he would not be the one to inflict it.
"I have nothing more to say. I hope he rots," Pete replied. Stan gave a small smile, knowing the truth was the opposite of his words. He had a lot more to say.
"I'm still your friend, Pete. I... don't blame you for this." The athlete whispered out; the light in his eyes fading more and more with each passing second. "And….I know you'll find way to stop this….I-I believe in you."
Stan slipped away soon after that, and it took all of Pete's composure to not lose it then and there and blow his cover.