Kyle's stupid-ass Prius screeched to a halt. He had arrived at the Colorado city limits. He saw Butters' car parked at the side of the road. He was a few feet away in handcuffs. Russians were standing around him.
"Stay in the car, Russell," Kyle whispered. He stepped out of the car and quietly made his way to the back of the car where he had a gun in the trunk. Eric kept a gun in the house for defensive reasons.
Kyle loaded the rifle and aimed at the Russians. Only one had a pistol. That's the one he shot first. The 4 other Russians turned to him. They unholstered their pistols and began to fire at Kyle. He didn't notice the holsters! Kyle fired at the Russians as quickly as possible. As he was reloading to kill the last one, he was shot. Kyle collapsed and lay motionless in a pool of blood. The Russian laughed cruelly. All of a sudden, Butters leaped up and kicked the soldier. The pistol flew from his hand. He ran over and put a foot on the Russian's chest. Butters used all his strength to pull his arms away from each other, and the cuffs broke. Butters had become surprisingly strong since 4th grade. After a depression in middle school, he began lifting weights. After that, no-one fucked with Butters (except Kenny, of course).
Butters moved his foot off of the soldier's chest and onto his head. Butters began to stomp the living SHIT out of him.
"That's! For! My! Friend! You! Damned! Russian!" he said with each stomp. Butters' leg got tired, so he picked up the soldier's pistol and shot him. As he began to walk over to Kyle to check on him, but his body was gone. Butters looked around and saw Kyle bandaging the wound a few yards away. After Butters exited absolute badass mode, he went back to his kind self.
"Gosh, Kyle. Are you okay? That looks awfully painful," Butters said.
"Heh, no shit," Kyle joked.
"Well, my car's engine is shot all to Hell. Can I ride with you?" Butters asked.
"Sure. I'd be a pretty bad friend if I said no," Kyle said.