Stan followed The Beast as he turned to walked up the staircase. He could hear The Beast saying that he hoped he liked it in the castle and saying that every corridor except the west wing was available to him.
The mention of a forbidden area brought Stan out of his thoughts. "Why can't I go to the west wing?"
"It's forbidden!" The Beast turned and roared.
Stan took a step back at the roar, once again scared that he was going to be attacked. "Uh, okay," he muttered.
With a huff, The Beast kept walking up the stairs leading to the east wing, mumbling to the candelabra, "What do I do?"
"Talk to him," the candelabra mumbled back.
"So, um, what's your name?" He looked back over his shoulder and at the scared man following him.
"…Stan," he said hesitantly. "What's your name?"
"Ke–It's unimportant," The Beast said quickly. He really didn't think his name was relevant after all the time he had spent as a beast.
Stan sighed. Was The Beast going to be a mystery to him while he was here? He really didn't want that, but figured there was no point in pushing it. Maybe he could learn more later. He swiveled his head around to look at the various torn portraits lining the hall they were walking down. The pictures differed, though they were so torn apart that there was no distinction of the person they once showed. Every fourth picture or so, though, there would be the piercing blue eyes and part of a head of spiked blonde hair that once showed a beautiful man, Stan thought. He wanted to stop and get a closer look, but The Beast wasn't slowing down and he didn't want to get left behind.
The Beast stopped at another, smaller, double door and swung it open. "Your room."
Stan walked into the room, stopping just past the doorway so he could look around. A full sized bed stood next to the dark wood wardrobe, a large window-door led to an old balcony that Stan wasn't sure he'd ever go on. Other than that, and the pillows and blankets on the bed, nothing else of interest decorated the room.
"Master," the candelabra mumbled to The Beast again, "invite him to dinner."
The Beast cleared his throat. "You will join me for dinner." Stan turned to protest, but was interrupted before he could. "That is not a request!" He slammed the door shut and stalked off.
Tears stinging the back of his eyes, Stan collapsed onto the bed and gripped at the blanket. How could things have turned around so badly from just yesterday? When he thought him and Kyle would finally happily move out of South Park and to a far away town.
…
Kyle pulled Stan's motorcycle to a stop in front of the bar his friend worked at. Driving the bike with only one working arm had been a feat, definitely something he'd remember forever. With much difficulty, he pulled the helmet off of his head and dropped it next to the bike on the ground. Right now, where he left it didn't matter. The Beast had Stan!
He ran inside of the bar, throwing open the door, screaming, "It's got him! It's got Stan!"
Everyone, including Craig and Tweek, sitting next to a fireplace talking about the earlier embarrassment, looked at Kyle like he was insane. Most of the people just rolled their eyes and ignored him, but a few asked what he was talking about.
"A beast!" Kyle yelled as he stepped further inside of the bar. "A beast is holding Stan prisoner!"
"A beast?" Someone asked with a laugh, setting off a round of laughter that spread like wildfire.
"Yes, a beast!"
The owner of the bar came from the back, looking none too happy. "Broflosky, where's Marsh? He's late."
"A beast has kidnapped him!" Kyle yelled again, trying to see if someone would listen to him. "It's holding him prisoner in its castle!"
"Did it have claws?" Someone jeered.
"As big as your head!"
"Was it covered in fur?" Another person chimed in.
"Yes! It was matted and knotted!"
"What about a large, ugly snout?" Someone in front of the bartender laughed.
"Hideous!"
Craig, laughing so hard that his sides began to hurt, had someone grab Kyle and shove him to his knees in front of where he was sitting on a high-backed leather chair. "Well," he leaned forward onto his knees, "a beast you say?"
Kyle waited until the hands that had sent him to his knees disappeared. "Yes Craig, a beast! It's holding him prisoner in its castle!" He ignored the caffeine and alcohol induced laugh of Tweek behind him. "Please Craig, you have to go help him! I can't do anything because of my arm." He gestured to it.
Craig glanced at his stooge with a shared look of amusement. Kyle was more of a crack headed lunatic than they originally thought! "But of course I'll help," he said almost sarcastically though he covered it well.
"R-Really?" A smile crossed Kyle's face.
"Yes." Craig looked over at the two men who had pushed Kyle in front of him. "Now, go see a doctor. I'll take care of the big bad beast." That time, he didn't bother hiding the sarcasm. "Boys, show him to the door!"
The two grabbed Kyle again, this time throwing him back outside into the snow. He gripped onto his arm as he slowly stood back up and walked around the square of the town. The sarcasm in Craig's voice had been heavy, he didn't believe Kyle, that much had been obvious. And the laughing he could hear coming from the closing bar door told him that no one else believed him either.
"Somebody," he cried out into the silent square, "help me! Someone, please!" He stumbled around, the pain of his broken arm becoming almost too much for him to bear. "Help!"
…
Craig sighed as his laughter subsided and he took another drink of his beer. The whole business with Kyle a moment ago was just odd. He knew that the redhead was insane, but running into the bar yelling about a beast holding Stan prisoner, that was too much. The man really needed to be committed to an asylum.
Suddenly, a light bulb flashed on in Craig's mind as Tweek began laughing about how insane Kyle was. "Shut up," he said harshly, "I have an idea!"
"Gah! W-What is it?" Tweek's head twitched to the side along with the hand that was holding his beer, spilling a little of the liquid onto the floor.
"Stan keeps rejecting me–"
Tweek laughed. "It's more than rejecting, h-he has completely d-demolished you!"
Craig threw the empty beer bottle in his hand at Tweek, only continuing when it hit the blonde's head. "Anyway, for some reason Stan cares deeply for that lunatic, so maybe the only way to get to him is to threaten Kyle's very life."
"G-Good idea! What's your p-p-plan then?"
A devious smile spread across the dark-haired boy's face as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I think I'll call Damien up on his debt."
