"How did 40 die?" he asked one night as they lay together. He had his arm wrapped tightly around 41, who burrowed her head in his chest. It was warm; they had each other; her swollen stomach pressed against his and she moaned as the baby kicked within her. He caressed her stomach and felt the kicks on his hand. She laughed; her laugh was beautiful.

"I don't want to think about it." Once she has this child her life is over. They both know this. Since she had been here she had given Master three children. The doctor said she wasn't fit to carry another; this one might not even make it. If Master doesn't kill her then the baby would.

"You always tell me... don't die like 40. What did she do?" 41 let out a shaky whimper and closed her eyes; her hand tightened around his waist; he twirled her brunette locks between his fingers. Comfort. They had each other.

"She was a lot like you, a fighter. She didn't like Master, she never did what she was supposed to until... until they hurt her enough to knock her out. She bit the clients, she stabbed one." He admired her bravery. He could never do that. "So they did to her what she did to them."

He didn't understand; that wasn't a violent death. That was just understandable; they all went through that treatment. If they hurt someone then they would be hurt in return. It's why he his eye was swollen shut.

"They cut her open, aborted her baby...covered her in his blood. The last thing she knew was they were cutting her intestines. They tied her up with them... a-after she died. And they had sex with her one last time."

42's jaw dropped in horror.

"Her body was cut up just like her son's... get rid of the problem, you know?"

He stared down at 41's stomach. She was going to pop any day now; it was difficult for her to even move. Walking wasn't an option anymore.

"Don't die like 40, please?" She whispered, then caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes at the gentleness and felt her hands run through his hair. "Don't let them hurt my baby." Was she talking about her child or him? "I love you," she whispered.

He felt her lips on his; they have had sex before. They found silent comfort with each other, and only then could they truly understand why they did what they were forced to do. Because it felt good; and making others feel good was worth it. At the end of the day, they felt good to each other. There was no pain in their actions; only love.

"I love you too," he replied, his hand rested on her stomach.

"Master loves you," she said, then pressed a kiss to his ear lobe. He shuddered as her teeth grazed his flesh. "I heard him say it. He wants you..."

"I'm nothing like you, I can't prov-"

"Keep my baby safe," she whispered, then captured his lips in another kiss. "Stay safe, do what you're told... be a good boy. Okay?" He nodded, and moaned against her mouth as she wrapped her tiny hand around him.

"I will," she actually smiled against his lip. His cheeks were wet; she was crying.

"My good boy..." she gasped, shuddering as his hand slipped between her legs and pressed just the way she liked it. "You're such a good boy."

They laughed together, bodies writhing and touching one another. They laughed into each others' shoulders and held tight as one body.

Tonight they could be good; they could be whatever they wanted to be.

42 wraps his hand around his stomach. It hurts. He feels like he's going to burst. He's tired; it's difficult to keep his eyes open.

Craig is laying on his stomach in silence. They have been quiet for so long. He hates it. He needs noise; something.

42 is scared. What if he makes the wrong decision? How can this be left to him? He has no control; his life is Master's. He does not have a choice in the matter; he is an object. He is nothing. They can't obviously think he will be stupid enough to fall into this trick.

"Does your foot hurt?" Craig asks; he shakes his head. Not anymore. He can't feel it anymore. His toe is cold and dead in his hands.

The pain in his stomach hasn't disappeared though. He swears he can feel every pulse of blood gush within him. He can taste it now too.

"Are you in pain?" he finally replies. Craig doesn't nod or shake his head. "It's okay, the first time hurts the most." He moans quietly as he slides along the floor to get closer to Craig. He rests his head on his shoulder and lays on his side. "I'm going to die."

"No you're not."

"Look at..." he clutches his stomach, "I'm bleeding out. Master said I would die tonight. No matter what I choose it doesn't matter. I accept it, you know. Just like 41."

"What about 40?"

He shakes his head.

"I don't want to talk about it," he hears her echo from his mouth. "41 knew it was her time. They took her kid... I wanted her. The baby. I was going to take care of her. Just like her mother."

"She had a child?" he nods.

"Three. I don't know where they are. Taken, I suppose. The last one... she was beautiful. She went into labor and no one cared. I... I helped her have the baby. We named her."

"What was her name?" He couldn't imagine they would give her a number; not a child.

"Patience," 42 replies, "she didn't cry much. I wanted her. I wasn't her father. But I wanted her."

"You and 41 were... together?" 42 nods.

"We loved each other. I miss her. I don't talk about her... did she have a name? L-like me? Did she have a name too?" Craig nods. "What was it?"

" Oksana Borsnova, she's from Vladivostok, Russia. She was 19 years old this year."

"Oksana..." he moans and feels tears burn his eyes, "it's beautiful. She's beautiful..." Craig puts an arm over his shoulder. "She isn't 41. She's Oksana." Craig nodded. "And... I'm Kenny?"

"Kenneth is your birth name. But you went by Kenny."

"I'm not..." he touches his stomach. "Kenny McCormick... what was he like?" He, not I. Craig smiles weakly at him. The pain is getting to him; his entire body burns.

"You were from a poor family, you were the poorest kid in school. You really cared for your sister... and oh God, you had the coolest super hero persona ever. Mysterion. Mysterion was like Batman, you know? Just, the bad guys were so scared of him. The good guys looked to him for answers. And that was you. You were Kenny... you did all those things. I mean, you did okay in school and didn't really care much, you had a lot of girl friends. You worked at a strip club... do you remember Jonny? Jonny Bledel? He was your manager. He was going to get you to California to meet a friend to get you into the big clubs... that's how you got here. He tricked you."

"Jonny?" he asks, his eyes widening in recognition. "Jonny is... Jonny was Master's scout. He... he found others. I never lived with them. We only met in transit. They were beautiful. Jonny. I know a Jonny."

Jonny Bledel had been off the radar for two years.

"What happened to him?"

"Master wasn't happy with him. So he killed him. Said I made a mess, I had to clean it up. So I did."

Jonny Bledel is dead. He was the master's main trafficker in America. Right now all he had was from other traders and from his last abduction of slaves. All he had right now was Kenny. Is that why he wanted him? But why would he kill him? Especially if he was his only source of income in Colorado?

Oh shit, Craig thinks. The master was on to them. There was no other explanation. That's why he went against Cartman's orders. He is going to make them all suffer. He's going to try his damn hardest to stop them all. Kill the ground, let it all explode in the aftermath.

Craig watches in disgust as 42 lifts his foot to his mouth and licks at where his toe had been cut off. Clean up the mess he made, right?

"W-was I really a s-super hero?" Craig is taken aback by the question. He sounds so young, looks so young as he cradles his foot; he must be in pain. The raven nods.

"The best," is his answer, "you fought a god from another dimension. You gave people something to believe in," 42 looks at him with wide eyes; he's intrigued, Craig can tell.

"A-and... I have a f-family?" He sounds so scared to ask; his eyes shift to the ceiling. "A sister?"

"Yeah, you have an older brother and younger sister. Kevin and Karen. She's nineteen, she..." he can't bring himself to say it.

"Karen... that's a beautiful name. I bet she's beautiful, she is, isn't she?" he seems to light up as Craig nods, "D-does she know I'm okay?"

"Well, it's not that simple..." Craig fumbles for words. His eyes narrow on Craig as if he knows what he's thinking. What he's about to say.

"What happened to her?" His voice is suddenly sharp; just like Kenny used to sound like when it came to protecting Karen.

"She... she's in the hospital."

"Why?"

"Well, she's a prostitute..." the words sound terrible to his ears. He sees Kenny flinch. "And she tried getting out of a night with this guy. He beat her up pretty bad... she went to the hospital for it. He kept threatening her and finally she just... she attempted suicide. They had her in a medically induced coma for two weeks."

He whimpers.

"D-does she have a daddy? A master too? Maybe I know him. Maybe... maybe I can get Master to-"

"She's on her own. We've... my master has kept an eye on her to make sure she's okay. He just... he didn't do good enough, I guess." His blue eyes are calculating him now. He is analyzing him, observing him. Craig feels like prey.

"My sister's a renegade..." Craig blinks; he's never heard that term before. "she's just like me. Oh God, he hurt her... I hurt her. A-and I didn't even k-know..." Just like when he was younger, he still blames himself for her pain; her actions. Craig shakes his head and wraps an arm around Kenny; he's trembling against him.

"Do you remember her? Or me...? We got taken to Peru for being in a Peruvian flute band to get money. I... I didn't hate you so much. I don't hate you." 42 pulls away from him and gives him a blank stare; it almost makes Craig laugh. His eyes look annoyed, unimpressed.

"Why did you say that?"

"I just..." Craig fumbles again, "say things." He really is awkward. It's why he's a private investigator; he can be alone.

"S-so... my name is Kenny. But... I don't remember. I don't... how do I know you're not trying to trick me?" Craig takes a deep breath and quietly sings; it's his only shot. He head him humming the tune earlier. This has to work.

"When I'm alone
I dream on the horizon
and words fail;
yes, I know there is no light
in a room where the sun is absent,
if you are not with me.
At the windows
show everyone my heart
which you set alight;
enclose within me
the light you
encountered on the street..."

Craig sings in a soft voice, gently, and 42 lifts his eyes. He stares in awe at the olive-skinned man in front of him. He knows that song. It's what he falls asleep to every night in his head, or from his broken hums. It sounds beautiful. There are lyrics to it, it's a real song... it's beautiful. He's never heard a song before; or he doesn't remember.

"W-what..." he trails off, "how do you know that?"

"You're a famous singer in Romania. That was your biggest hit. It's the English version, but..." he trails off. What else can he say?

"You're not like me are you?" 42 asks finally; as if this is the question he has been wanting to ask the entire night. "You're not..." he looks down on himself.

"My name is Craig Tucker," he reaches for his denim pants and pulls out a laminated card, "this is my ID. I'm a private investigator, that guy you spent the night with who gave you chocolate? He's a police officer. We're here to rescue you. We're going to take you home tonight if you just trust me. Your name is Kenny McCormick and you're twenty two years old. You've been missing for seven years, been here for seven years.

You worked for Jonny Bledel in a strip club. You worked two jobs when you were fifteen. He told you he'd get you famous... and here you are. Here you've been. All I want is for you to trust me and to know that if you come with me, with us, we'll have you free as soon as you get in that car." He hands Kenny his badge. He flips it over and reads it over and over again. His brow furrows and he shakes his head.

"You'll arrest me, I-I... I'm a whore, I-"

"You're a victim of human trafficking, you've done nothing wrong. You were kidnapped and held prisoner here... you've done your time for no reason. This is your decision. This is your life. We can get you out of here, get you to a hospital, you can live as a free man. You can listen to all the music you want, see your family, you can come home... please?" Craig asks, "please come home?"

42 stares at his hands, stares at the toe the meat of his palm and closes his eyes.

Come home, as if he knows he has a place to stay. A place to live. But the outside world... he's seen it. He'll get swallowed alive. He can't make it on his own. No matter how hard he has tried, he knows deep down he's meant for a life like this. And he's so tired of hurting, and even more tired of the lies. Craig seems genuine.

Out there, in here, everywhere, he knows he is nothing. Despite what Craig tells him; he hasn't been someone for seven years, if what he says is true. Seven years is a long time to suddenly come back. He would be nothing more than a ghost. Maybe he's better off here, or dead. He's too much trouble, too much risk. He can't make it on his own.

He needs a master. He needs someone to tell him what to do and if he's good. He needs to know when he's right or wrong, or good or bad.

The door opens and Craig quickly stuffs his badge in his jeans. 42 bites his lip and lays down on the floor; be submissive, be a good boy. Craig remains in his sitting position, and has his hands folded in his lap.

It makes sense now. He doesn't have his mannerisms. He's a human.

But what surprises him is that Craig, and this other man, have made the effort to rescue him. Craig was raped... for no reason. They should have left it alone; he isn't worth their time. He never has been.

Can he let their efforts go to waste? When he's up there... can he look Master in the eye, knowing Craig was raped in the process of saving him? Can he hurt them like that? Ruin what they must have worked so hard to do?

He feels hands lift him and lets the man drag him up the stairs. He hears Craig tell the other guard to let him walk on his own. He struggles; he needs the help.

As his feet fumble up the stairs, into the light that was blinding, to see Master and this other man who isn't a buyer at all but a police officer... a police officer who is trying to save him. A former friend. He has friends and they have come to save him.

But does he want to be saved?

It's his choice.

How can he choose when he has no voice? How can he choose when he isn't anything more than a slave? He has no voice, not really. It's all about playing the game with them. Even with Craig and his friend the cop... it's a game. See who gets Kenny McCormick to bite first. Taunt him. Tease him. Scare him.

His eyes flicker as he realizes what just occurred.

Kenny McCormick.

He was Kenny McCormick.

He is someone.

Kenny McCormick has a voice.

He's a superhero.

And that's him.

His life is in his hands; he stares at them, sees the big toe clutched tight in his grasp. It's cold and stiff. It feels like death. So much of him has died already.

Why can't he just do the same?