The car door slammed shut; Eric Cartman locked eyes with the driver for a brief moment before he turned and took a deep breath. This was going to be the first time he saw Kenny in seven years; if it was him. This moment was the one that would make or break him. Everything he worked hard for the past few months could turn out to be for nothing.

That is if it wasn't Kenny. If it was? Then all of his proof, all of his documents and breaking into classified files, wasn't in vain. He would then be able to go to someone else with the information, someone who knew the proper way to handle that. All of the signs had pointed him to Craig Tucker for that. Why? Because Craig had resources. He had the ability to go undercover, go stealth, and weasel his way into the operation. And he had been looking for Kenny for the past seven years, too.

"Cartman!" The car window rolled down and hazel eyes locked onto his. The man's brown hair blew into his eyes and Cartman maintained a stoic expression. "Be careful."

"Shut the fuck up, Clyde. Two minutes," he retorted, then pulled out a cigar, turned, and walked down the alley.

He stopped at the door that led to the restaurant. In here was a potential Russian mafia front. In here he could potentially die if he didn't play his cards right. Keep your eyes low and your shoulders lower. But listen well. That was the only thing that stuck with him during his training. And he couldn't believe how that rule could play into his life now. His training with the force hadn't been a total waste, at least.

Eric chose Clyde for a reason. He was a nurse. In fact, he wouldn't have gotten him involved at all, except he needed someone involved in medical. He and Craig needed to know Kenny's condition in order to plan their mission. Craig was the way in, Clyde gave the deadline, and Cartman was the leader. They couldn't wait too long; just long enough.

Cartman tucked these thoughts in the back of his mind as he puffed on the cigar before he stepped into the restaurant. He walked up to the bartender slowly, smoothly. His eyes were cold and calculating; Cartman showed no signs of being intimidated. He stood his ground and walked slowly up to the bar, then rested his arms on the counter as he sat on the stool. His left hand reached into his jacked pocket and pulled out a business card.

He saw the recognition in the bartender's eyes.

"My boss and I have an appointment. He'll be in in a moment- y'know, business..." he received a grunt in response.

"What're ya havin'?" The voice is American, that's for sure. This guy managed the front while the others took care of business upstairs. It made sense. Eric watched as the bartender pulled out his phone.

"Tequila on the rocks. No salt, lemon." The bartender left without another word.

He wouldn't be having a drink tonight.

It was all code. He put in his order for the night, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary to the other patrons. What they didn't know was that instead of a drink he just ordered a weak little blonde boy.

He put his money down for Kenny McCormick. Bought his best friend for the night, or his body, anyway. As sick as it was, it was necessary. There was no other way he could get close to him. And he there was no way he could have put Craig in this situation yet. This was the only way he could make contact with Kenny; if it was Kenny.

The door to the restaurant opened once more. A tall man walked inside and hazel eyes set on him before he approached.

The bartender entered, gave the man a look over. He pointed to Cartman.

"You get order?" Clyde spoke in a thick Russian accent. "I will not be disappointed tonight," He warns the bartender as he stands at the bar. He shakes his head, glances toward the restrooms.

"Take the stairs, first door on the right. No wanderin'." Eric nods and Clyde protracts a cane from his coat. Cartman eyes him in slight surprise as they disappear from the bartender's sight.

"Don't look so surprised," he maintained the accent, "boss knows vat he likes." He winked, and hit the bottom of the cane on every step.

Cartman rolled his eyes; he forgot how cocky Clyde was. He didn't miss it at all.

Clyde hit the door open with his cane, then stepped in the room slowly. Cartman followed after him, maintaining his slightly deflated confidence and pulled out the business card.

"I'm not waiting," Clyde said, his lips were pulled downward in a menacing scowl. Even Cartman was slightly afraid of him. The man at the desk glanced up at them and sent a soft smile. That was creepy; Cartman fought off the shudder that tried to roll down his spine. "I will not be disappointed again. Your last was weak."

"I can understand how someone of your build would think so." The man replied, then stood up from his desk, "I don't hand over my assets until I'm properly paid." Clyde rolled his eyes and pulled out a bill. The man eyed him.

"Half. Other half when I see whore."

The man sighed heavily and turned to the door.

"Bring him in."

The door opened and Cartman held his breath. Two guards entered, and they threw a small body toward them. A whimper was heard from the person on the floor. Cartman felt his insides squirm with nausea. Clyde maintained his scowl. Cartman felt like puking.

"Show me the face." He sounded bored.

"Look up, pet," Slowly the blonde on the floor raised his head; his eyes remained on the floor. Cartman let out his breath and nodded, then turned to Clyde.

That was Kenny.

"Stand." His legs shook as he got on his knees. He wobbled as he stood; still his eyes remained on the ground. He was obviously done up for them tonight. The pictures Cartman had at home showed him in a true setting; covered in filth and blood, in nothing more than an old shirt, torn and stained.

Now Kenny stood before them with makeup covering the bruises and scratches on his body, his hair was golden and in waves that made him look like a cherub. He was tiny and looked much younger than he was; except in his eyes that would not dare look up.

"Look at your sire. He wants to see those pretty blues, my love."

Kenny finally raised his eyes. Cartman clenched his fists.

"He will suffice," Clyde simply said with a tone of disinterest. One of the guards pushed him forward, and Kenny stood before them both.

"You may only speak when they say, understand?" Kenny glanced to the man and gave a nod.

"Yes, Master."

"Good boy. Good night," Kenny bowed and kissed the man's hand, then took Clyde's hand in his much smaller one.

Clyde handed over the rest of the money, then grabbed Kenny by the back of the shirt and walked out of the room.

"Come," Cartman scowled at his tone with Kenny. "You are allowed to speak whenever you would like. I want you to feel comfortable. Are you hungry? Do you need anything?" Kenny shook his head. "I said you can talk."

"S-sorry, sir. N-no, I'm more than happy."

Eric closed his eyes at the words.

"And why is that?" Clyde asked, reaching into his pocket as they exited the bar from the back entrance. Kenny took his hand and his lips twitched feebly.

"I'm happy to serve you, I'm happy to make you happy." His eyes then focused on Cartman, "you as well, sir."

They approached Cartman's car, and he opened the backseat for Kenny. He carefully crawled inside, careful not to sit directly on his bottom, and instead knelt on the seat.

"Close your eyes," Clyde leaned forward over him, then caressed his face. Kenny shuddered against his touch, Cartman wondered if it was the first gentle touch he had felt the past seven years, and followed orders. He gasped as a needle plunged into his arm, but said nothing as he was injected. By the scars on his arms this had happened before. Many times.

"I'm sorry," Kenny whispered in a slower voice.

"For what?" Clyde asks, his accent began to slip. Kenny's eyes glazed over and he fought to keep them open.

"I didn't mean to disobey..." Was his quiet whimper before he fell asleep.

"Dude this is fucked up," Cartman said as he started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. Clyde sighed heavily as he took off Kenny's shirt and reached for the bag under the seat. He flipped the car light on, and pulled out several items. He couldn't do much now in terms of a so-called "checkup" but based on Kenny's state he needed proper medical care.

The only problem was if he returned in better shape than when he left.

"We should just take him and run," Clyde suggested, putting the thermometer in his ear. He heard the beep several seconds later. He had a fever.

"Yeah, except we'd die. It's not like we can just swoop him off into the sunset, we've got to pin down everyone involved in this. We need more answers. We know it's Kenny, we just don't know everything." Clyde sighed heavily and lifted Kenny's shirt. Burns and bruises marred his skin; his flesh was a rainbow of color. "To everyone else he's just another ho, working the streets and going home to daddy. But it's not like that and until we have the proof no one will believe us."

They were silent as Cartman drove to the hotel. Clyde began cleaning the wounds and dressing them to hopefully keep them from becoming infected. The medicine wouldn't keep him asleep for too long; he would be awake in a couple of hours at the most.

When they arrived at the hotel, Cartman picked up Kenny and carefully carried him inside. Clyde carried the bags; the receptionist didn't give them a second look as they went to the elevator. Both of them were silent as they made their way up to the third floor.

They lay Kenny on the bed; Cartman propped his head on the pillow, and Clyde carefully took off his clothes. Now they could see more of his wounds and scars he had earned over time. He was missing a finger, his nose was crooked, they cut off his testicles, beat him and whipped him enough to leave scars. There were scratches, punctures, and claw marks that littered his body.

Clyde gave him medicine to calm the fever and the probable pain he was in. They dressed him in sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt, and Cartman ordered room service. When he woke up they'd tell him they just wanted to treat him; although knowing what situation he was in... being treated wasn't necessarily a good thing to him. They'd figure it out; he would trust them. He'd have to.

With his current scratches and injuries taken care of, Kenny would wake up and probably feel a lot better. Hopefully. Or realizing the amount of pain he really was in would make it that much worse. Cartman just wanted what was best for him; he wanted him to subconsciously know that they were going to save him. They were getting him out of there.

"How long do we have?" Cartman asked as Clyde zipped his bag. The taller of the two sighed as he slung it over his shoulder and walked to the door.

"I would say a month at the most. Two weeks would be better. He's completely out of whack and there's only so much I can do. He needs proper treatment, and soon. As soon as you can." Eric remained silent as he considered Clyde's words.

Two weeks. That was do-able. He had his way in, had the proof that they had found Kenny, and Craig had managed to access secret files that would incriminate members of congress and other government officials. He had the names of every person involved in the ring. They were almost ready to make the move.

They just needed to wait for the kill.

Two weeks would be enough.

"I'll let you know," Clyde just gave a nod before he closed the hotel room door.

Now Cartman was left alone with Kenny. After seven years his sudden presence was an anvil. The air was thick with tension and Kenny was so fucked up and brainwashed that he would have no idea who Cartman was. There was no way. And, Cartman realized with a sharp pang of bitterness, he had no clue who Kenny was. Not really. Because underneath his warped mind his bet friend was locked up, waiting to be brought back. Almost like possession. But seven years of hell would change someone. And Kenny was no exception.

He turned on the television and leaned back on the headboard. He flipped through the channels as he grazed on the bag of chips he brought with him.

Cartman glanced over as he felt a pull on the blankets. Kenny's eyes slowly opened and he yawned with his hand over his mouth. His eyes were bleary, and with the makeup washed off he saw the dark bags and fading bruises.

"Whu-wh..." Kenny whimpered and looked up at Cartman in fear. "What...?"

"Are you hungry?" Cartman asked, then offered the bag of chips. Kenny's hands remained on the blanket.

"Where did he go?" He asked, his eyes shifted around the entire room. Eric shrugged and poured the rest of the chips in his mouth. "What am I...?" he pulled at the clothes and his eyes were wide with fear.

"Chill, Clyde had other things he..." he trailed off as Kenny scrambled out of the bed, "wait, hey, hey... sit down." The small man stopped his frantic movements and instantly sat on the floor. He winced but said nothing as he kept his eyes on his hands. "You can sit on the bed."

Kenny rose and then perched on the corner of the bed.

"Did I do something wrong?" The blonde asked, his fingers dug into his skin on his hands. Cartman couldn't help but wonder if he self-harmed due to his anxiety; how could he not? Cartman would probably be dead by now if he had been in Kenny's place.

"No, why?"

"He left. I didn't... I didn't do my job. I was supposed to please him, and he left..." He was actually trembling now, and blood oozed from the scratches in his hands. Cartman shook his head.

"Don't worry, he wasn't unhappy with you. Something just came up, work related. He's a busy guy. You're not in trouble. Don't worry." Kenny shook his head and crawled up the bed, then sat on his knees in front of Cartman.

"Master won't be happy with me. You don't leave, not unless I did something wrong. He's going to tell him. He's going to tell Master and... and... please, let me make it up to you." Eric stiffened as he felt Kenny's hand on his knee. He watched it slowly slide up his thigh. Cartman shook his head.

"No, don't do that. I don't want that."

"Please... please? I want to make you happy, I want to do whatever you need or want me to. I'm yours, sir. My body is yours. I've been bad, and I need punished. Master won't be happy with me. Master will say I'm too old. Please...?"

"Too old? You're young." Kenny shook his head. Tears glittered his eyes.

"I'm not desirable. I'm disgusting... old... used... I disgusted that man, didn't I? I'm hideous. I can hide my face. I can try real hard... I don't want to be done."

"Done with what?" Cartman asked. Kenny squeezed his thigh and the brunette felt nauseous.

"I'm almost to my expiration date." Expiration date; as if he were a perishable product. He saw himself as nothing more than spoiled milk in the fridge. "But I'm not, I know my job. I do it well. I love my sires. I love Master. Is it... do you want to hurt me? You can hurt me. I like it. I-I like anything you want me to."

He was desperate to make him happy in whatever way he could. Kenny was scraping the bottom of the barrel just to stay alive but he was finding nothing. Cartman couldn't go through with this. He was not going to have sex with Kenny, no matter what. He was his best friend and he was in danger.

But would he be in even more danger if he didn't do anything with him?

Cartman sighed heavily, then took Kenny's hand in his. His blue eyes, faded to a near grey, settled on him and despair met his gaze. Not desire.

"I want you to do something for me... okay?" Kenny nodded vibrantly yet his eyes betrayed his enthusiasm. "I ordered some food, why don't you go get some? I'm sure you're hungry. Eat until you're full. Watch some tv, just... hang out with me."

Just like when they were fifteen years old. Kenny would come over to his house and sit with him on the couch as they watched shitty programs on television. They'd waste hours saying nothing but being in each others' presence. And then Cartman would bring out the food and he knew that's what Kenny wanted all along. A place to be warm, a place to eat, a place to feel safe.

And that's what he'd give him now.

Cartman stood up and grabbed himself a hefty plate of the meal that the hotel provided. As he took his first bite of the pasta, he pointed to the cart, and sat down on the bed once more. Kenny looked between Cartman and the tray with more food and beverages than he had seen in... far too long. He then walked over, constantly glancing at Cartman who was trying to act as if he wasn't paying attention, and stood before the food.

Eric heard his stomach growl; he bit back a grin.

To his surprise, however, Kenny grabbed the serving utensil and placed the small amount of food in his hand. Cartman's jaw dropped in awe, and he kept his jaw slacked as Kenny walked to the corner by the door, faced the wall, and sat down.

"Dude," Cartman couldn't help himself. "Hey, don't y-you wanna use a plate or something? You can sit up here. Or on that bed. There's forks too." He received no response, and watched in utter disbelief and horror as Kenny seemed to force himself to eat. He struggled, coughed, chewed, and swallowed. "Uh... dude?"

There was once again no response from the frail blonde in the corner.

Instead, he heard a quiet gagging sound. His hands went over his mouth, and with a sour stomach Cartman realized eating had made him sick. Kenny trembled on the floor but didn't make a single sound; if it were Cartman he'd be crying out and swearing up a storm.

"W-what the fuck?!" He exclaimed as he watched in disgust as Kenny bowed his head in his hands. He was eating his own sick. "Stop that!"

Kenny froze and whimpered. His body lurched and he fought off the urge to throw up once again; Cartman realized he forced it back down his stomach.

Cartman knew his loudness was scaring Kenny. This whole situation was probably terrifying to him. Instead of being beaten, sexually abused, and forced into sex he was brainwashed to believe he wanted he was being given dinner and warm clothes and what seemed like a night off.

Those nights only happened when something terrible was about to happen.

"Here, let me help you. Don't... don't eat that," he carefully put his arms on Kenny's sides and lifted him. He swayed slightly, and leaned back into Cartman. "There you go, c'mon. Throw that in the toilet, okay? That's... you don't eat your own puke, that's nasty."

"Master... Master will be angry," his voice was scratchy and hoarse.

"Why?!" Cartman was appalled.

"I made a mess... I have to get rid of it."

"You are, you don't eat it... you flush it down the toilet." Kenny's hands shook as they hovered above the toilet. "Don't tell me you don't know how to use a toilet." His eyes watered and his cheeks darken. "Okay, just...uncup your hands. What do you do when you have to shit?" Cartman was already afraid he knew the answer to that.

"Please... please don't make me do this? Master will find out. He'll... I can't be punished again, I have to be good. I have to show him that I'm good... I'm not. I'm not... I'm bad. I'm worthless. This..." he held his hands together still, "this has more worth than me... it can keep me alive. I can't do anything right."

"It's just vomit," Cartman replied, then turned on the shower. "How about you take a bath or a shower? It'll make you feel better. And then I'll get you something better for your stomach. What do you want?"

"I..." he trailed off uneasily, "I don't know. This is-"

"That's puke. Not food, put it in the toilet and I'll get you something. You like bread? What about fruit? Or chocolate... chocolate is..." Cartman trailed off as he saw Kenny's eyes flicker. "You like chocolate?" he bit back a grin as he saw Kenny fidget. Of course he did; Cartman knew for a fact his favorite thing to eat was his mom's chocolate chip cookies. Once he was back home he'd have to get him some. "Huh? You can tell me. I'll get you some."

"Why?" he heard the sick fall into the toilet. Cartman flushed it immediately, then turned on the sink. Kenny put his hands under the water and his lips twitched upward slightly as he felt the warmth. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"You deserve it," his hands shook violently and his face reddened. Kenny's eyes squeezed shut and tears streamed down his cheeks. He pulled his hands away from the water and shook his head violently as he collapsed to the floor. He yelped as he fell on his bottom, and curled his legs to his chest. He looked like a little boy. A frightened little boy.

"N-no, I don't, please... please... I'm so bad. I need to be good, I need to make you happy," his face was scrunched as he fought off tears, and in a mere moment his hands were at Eric's belt. "Let me, this is all I want..." he nuzzled his thigh and his right hand caressed his side.

He almost had him. He saw that fire in his eyes; that was Kenny. But now he was gone, left to be this shattered soul trying to make sense of a world he has been forced to believe is right.

"Listen, what I want is to have you get in that tub and take a shower. I want to get you chocolate. I want to get you whatever you want. Why? Because it's what I want. I don't want sex." Kenny's eyebrows furrowed.

"Then why... why did you ask for me? I'm not a... I'm just an animal. A whore. I'm here for you to fuck me. I'm not here to be your girlfriend."

"I bought you, you'll do what I want you to. Okay?"

Kenny lowered his head and pulled his hands away.

"Yes, sir."

"My name is Eric... you can call me Eric." Kenny looked up and pulled off the sweater, then the pants.

"Yes, Eric."

Cartman left him to shower. He flipped through the channels and kept it on some random sitcom. Thankfully he had planned this; he had a chocolate bar on the pillow waiting for Kenny when he got out of the shower.

After about fifteen minutes he heard the shower turn off. The door opened and Kenny walked out, naked and soaking wet. Cartman sighed heavily and stood up.

"You'll get sick... you need to dry off." He grabbed a towel from the dresser and walked over to the blonde. He hummed as Cartman wrapped him in the towel and gently patted him dry. "What... does that feel good?" Cartman glanced down and saw Kenny's eyes were closed as he nodded. "Cool."

"I'm so warm." He sounded as if it were Christmas.

Cartman smiled and entered the bathroom. The air was humid and the glass was fogged up by the condensation from his shower. Good; he didn't turn it to cold.

He handed Kenny the clothes he had brought for him, and ended up dressing him when the movements proved to be too painful for Kenny. They sat on the bed together, and Kenny glanced at the chocolate bar nervously.

"Go ahead," Cartman chuckled, then took a gulp from the beer he got from the fridge. "There's some more in the fridge, all kinds of alcohol... if you want any." Fifteen year old Kenny would be over there in a heartbeat. This Kenny, however, was sniffing the chocolate bar.

Cartman couldn't help but keep his eyes locked on the blonde as he took a tiny nibble from the corner of the chocolate square. His eyes lit up and he leaned back; if Cartman could say so, he'd say he was almost enjoying himself. He was far from happy, but this was something.

"T-thank you, si- Eric," Kenny whispered, taking one square and let it set on his tongue.

"No problem," he could at least give him one night where he wouldn't have to work and feel terrified. This was probably the first in seven years.

Soon it would be over, though. Soon he would get him out of here for good. He just needed twenty thousand dollars and someone else to see him to get this set in motion.

"So," Cartman said, his eyes on Kenny as the smaller man licked his fingers. "Do you wanna go catch a movie? Have a night out? Or just chill here?" Kenny appeared taken aback. His jaw went slack and he was awfully pale. "It's your choice."

"I-I..." he fumbled for words, "whatever you-"

"Nuh-uh, I'm not playing that game. Tonight's yours. What do you want to do?" Kenny's knuckles rubbed together in nervousness, much like how another blonde Cartman was familiar with did, and kept his eyes on the bed. He mumbled something, and Cartman raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

Kenny shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself.

Cartman tilted his head slightly. He was giving himself a hug.

"Do..." he trailed off, "do you want a hug?"

A loud sob ripped from Kenny's throat and he nodded before he burrowed his head in his arm. Cartman couldn't think to do anything else, he swooped his arms around Kenny and held him safely, protectively. It was first nature; after all he said he'd do whatever Kenny wanted. And this was him, after all. This was Kenny. He hadn't hugged him in so long.

Feeling him, holding him made him realize this was real. This was the shell of his best friend. And he was picking up the pieces one by one.

Hopefully it would be worth it.

But as Kenny clutched his shirt and clung to him he realized that yes, it was. Because whether or not Kenny was conscious of his actions or not, he put a flicker of hope in his spirit that had long been turned to nothing but dying embers.

"You... you're so nice," Kenny whispered into his shoulder. Cartman bit back his laugh; that was the first time he ever heard that. "You..." he just shrugged. "Will you..." his words died and Cartman looked down at Kenny. He was practically purring from near-contentment. How long had it been since he had been held like this?

"What do you want?" he didn't say in a snide tone, but he was genuinely curious. Kenny shook his head.

"You'll laugh... you'll hurt me..." Eric shook his head. "I just want to feel..." he shook his head again.

"You probably won't understand why but... I care about you. A lot. I love you." Kenny's eyes flickered.

"W-why?" he questioned, still cherishing the arms around him. "Why would you love something like me?"

Something. He didn't even see himself as a person. He saw himself as little more than trash, if that.

"I just... what did you want?"

"You," Kenny replied with a different look in his eyes. It was unsettling; like when he was fifteen. Like he could see right through him. "I want... I want you to make love to me." Cartman was silent and still for a few moments. Kenny watched him, waiting. The brunette swore he could feel his world crumble when he shook his head. "W-why...?"

"Because I don't love you that way. Someone will make love to you, you are loved, and you will be loved in the ways you want. I don't want to be just like the ones that've hurt you. I'll just hug you, okay?" Kenny let out a quiet whimper, then nodded.

"No one will..." he mumbled, "I'm not worth anything. M-Master. Master loves me though... even though I'm not worth it. Master will always love me, even when I do bad things. I have Master." Cartman's heart sank as he swore he felt Kenny smile against him. "Master will make love to me. I won't deserve it, I don't deserve it. But he'll tell me I do. He'll tell me I'm good... but I'm not."

"Yeah you are," was Eric's reply. He knew this caught Kenny off guard. "you've done really good tonight. I'll tell him. I'll tell him that you did everything I asked you to do." Kenny looked up at him, his eyes glittering.

"I did, didn't I?" Cartman nodded. He witnessed what looked like Kenny's best attempt at a smile. "He'll be so happy with me, Eric!" He nodded slowly and lay down. Kenny curled up against him and clutched his shirt, subconsciously seeking comfort he didn't think he needed.

"Yeah, but... will you be happy?" Cartman asked tentatively. He looked down at Kenny and saw his eyes were closed. The blonde gave a slight nod.

"If Master is happy, I'm happy." The brunette breathed a heavy sigh and kept a tight arm around Kenny. His deep breaths alerted him that he was, in fact, asleep.

Cartman was afraid Kenny would say that. Because his so-called "Master" had him tight in his grip. Kenny was so warped, that at the end, when he would be saved... he may not want to be. Because their rescue mission wasn't going to be getting him out of there in the middle of the night under the radar. No, it had to be Kenny's choice in front of them all.

And right now he was trying his damn hardest to butter him up. This was his only chance. Cartman was just afraid it wasn't enough.