His path through the woods was a simple routine by now, knowing just what trees to duck around and what twigs had already been trampled by his heavy boots. He glanced up at the waning gibbous moon lingering overhead, sporadically blocked by nature's twisted branch designs. Mysterion took a long, needed breath of the smell of pine trees and fresh leaves, scratching at his head mindlessly.

The morning had been a bit of a panic-induced haze after leaving Kyle's, a strong contrast to the intoxicated fuzziness he'd had the pleasure of experiencing beforehand. Walking quickly through town to get to his apartment in Kyle's too-short pajama pants and too-small hoodie had made him a hell of a sight to behold. No one questioned him, hell most avoided him, probably thinking he was homeless and going around panhandling. But that doubt, that worry was still there. The thought that someone might be watching him, someone who knew well enough of his involvement with Kyle to keep a closer eye on the two of them.

He'd had no choice but to quell his fears the minute he got to the shelter after stopping off at home, shooting Kyle a text asking a random question on his thoughts of whether or not the shelter could stay afloat. Just anything to know that he'd made it out of the house okay. A good ten minutes passed before he got a three paragraph long message back about measures that Ken could take and financial distribution patterns that he would help him set when things settled down. Kenny could only understand about half of what was said, but it didn't matter, what mattered was he knew that only Kyle would care enough to be that detailed and thought-out in response to a text that spelled 'you' as 'u', so he knew that he was safe.

But, he couldn't help but wonder how he was supposed to keep up appearances in the future. He could only text Kyle so many mornings before the redhead started to get suspicious. He wasn't exactly an idiot when it came to noting a change in someone's behavior, and Kenny highly doubted that he'd be able to keep him off his trail for very long if he started poking around, not with the things he'd seen him manage to pull off in the last month.

Mysterion glanced out of the trees, looking for his telltale beam of light leading him straight to Kyle's house. His eyes narrowed, seeing nothing but darkness stretching down the block. "What the…" he muttered, speed picking up step by step until thrown into a full sprint going down the way. He slid to a stop behind Kyle's house, grabbing a tree and using it to swiftly divert himself into a turn towards it. He ran up to the window, peering into blackness and his heart sank. He tried his knock, pressing his ear against the pan and his jaw shaking.

A few moments passed before he pulled back, glancing towards the window on the other side of the backing and racing towards it. 'Please be asleep,' he prayed. 'God, please just let him be asleep!' He came to a stop at the bedroom window, heart clenching at the bare, lazily made bed lying still in the night. "No," he whispered, moving to sprint to the front of the house, letting out a long sound of despair at the desolate driveway. His hands crawled up into his hood, clutching against his balaclava as his chest began to heave.

Hooded eyes darted around frantically, teeth grating down against his lip. He had to find him. He wasn't stupid, he knew there was no chance that this was merely a matter of Kyle heading to the store and losing track of time. Someone had him. Cartman had him. But where? And where was his fucking car?!

Mysterion dropped his hands, lips trembling and he glanced down the road, turning on his heel and sprinting down the way, giving no shits about running under streetlamps and essentially parading himself for any late-night dweller to see.

None of that mattered.

All that mattered now was figuring out where to start, find every goddamn clue he could to get Kyle out of harm's way… If it wasn't already too late. He shook his head, forcing that kind of thought away from him. He couldn't let himself dwell in the 'what-ifs'. Not right now, they were far too distracting. He needed a clear head. He needed to figure out just where pieces of the puzzle were. And there was only one place he could imagine one of the fragments would still be.

He had no idea how long he'd been where he was, sitting in solitary silence in some unknown, musty location for hours at the very least. He didn't have the slightest clue where he could be, Kashkov grabbing him out of the trunk and taking him wherever to sit against a wall. Kyle had heard an overhead door over the sounds of him screaming to be let out and squirming about before being tossed down and set up in his spot.

Kyle shifted uncomfortably, bound and raw wrists still listlessly trying to pull apart, stuck in a rhythm he'd been enduring since he was left alone. He leaned his head back, wincing at putting pressure on his skull in the slightest. The blood had long stopped flooding over his gag but his nose was still killing him, not needing a damn doctor to tell him that it had to be broken in some way, shape, or form. A helpless, shaking breath snaked out of his throat, eyes clenching and fists tightening. Where the hell was Mysterion? It had to be nighttime by now, right? He had to have figured out that something had happened…

More tears tried to well and he scrunched his eyes tighter. No. No tears. Not here. Not with his nose so busted, it didn't need additional stress. And not here where he was sure he was being watched by someone or something. Cartman wouldn't just order for him to be left without some kind of supervision on the offhand chance he'd find his way out. He let out a long groan, head dropping once again. He was so dizzy. So tired. So fucking scared and confused, he didn't know where to begin to try to make his escape. Didn't know if there was anything he even could do. He didn't know his surroundings, was never able to make a note of any possibilities.

His head perked up, hearing a sudden, muffled sound coming from his right. Turning, head directed towards the noise source, he could hear the slamming of metal, a jumble of voices. He narrowed his eyes. Why did they sound so distant? He must be in another room from them, he figured; kept all by himself, probably farther from view to keep a nosy wanderer from spotting him. The mesh of noises stopped, overpowered and dwindling from one new source. Kyle couldn't hear the specific words, but a ringing, clear inflection told him all he needed to know: Cartman was here.

Kyle gulped, trembling as the clear sound of a doorknob echoed around him. The voice became clearer all at once, Cartman merely asking the listeners if they understood the objective, getting a resounding murmur of confirmation.

Thick hands suddenly grabbed Kyle's arm and he yelped, trying to wriggle away before the already-far-too familiar feeling of being lifted up by Kashkov was thrown upon him. "Calm down, little ryzhevolosyy," he advised as Kyle tried getting back to the floor. "You saw vhat 'appens vhen you fight."

'Yeah, I fucking stab your fuckin' friend and beat your head into shit,' he thought bitterly, shoulders jerking as he was taken through the room. The voices all dropped, Kyle able to make out the sound of close breathing and subtle coughs and snickers, feeling eyes on him. Kashkov smacked his lips, walking through the crowd to a side wall, letting his arms go slack and watching with a smirk as Kyle tumbled to the cement floor. He groaned, curling up until fingers caught in his hair and sat him up, a long, furious yell seeping through his gag, vibrating the coarseness of his dried throat. He sat with his shoulders heaving as he tried to get his overwhelming emotions under control, trying to ignore the fact that he was an essential sideshow for the room and focus on his breathing.

The sound started off small in the echoing space; subtle, little snorts. Almost quiet enough to miss if one wasn't listening for it. But they grew, noise by noise, from soft little chuckles until they crescendoed into bellowing cackling. Kyle's teeth ground down hard on the cloth in his mouth, knowing that maniacal outburst fucking anywhere.

He jerked with a yelp as the blindfold was ripped from his head, skull smacking back against the wall with the force. He whined, eyes aching each time he attempted to pry them open.

"Well c'mon, Kahl, we don't have all night," Cartman purred, watching him with glittering eyes, face barely able to contain the victorious smile set on his face.

Kyle growled, managing to open one hazy eye, instantly falling onto the rotund figure directly across from him. He sneered, genially working up the other orb, vision fuzzy as he tried to take in his surroundings. A room, maybe 20x20, an adjacent area that he assumed he must've come out of to the left of him. Cement floors, aluminum walls as far as he could tell. A large metal overhead door. Some kind of warehouse by the looks of it, maybe a large garage. He narrowed his eyes confusedly, glancing up and around at a group of ten people along either side of him against the wall and main door, all of them looking down at him with amusement dancing in glares and shadows from three hanging lightbulbs dangling above their heads. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the smuggest face in the room, bruised green eyes sparking with absolute fury at his proud, nonchalant stance as he leaned against a table, arms crossed and foot tapping excitedly as he waited for Kyle to absorb the brunt of his circumstance.

Oh, Cartman was relishing in this. Kyle looked so small and helpless under all that blood and binding. He'd excitedly awaited getting the call to be informed that the deed had been done, wanting to rush to the building right away and savor every second of his victory. But no, no. This had to be done right. Nothing better than leaving Kyle alone for nearly five hours, letting him wander miserably in his thoughts, wondering just what was going to happen to him. The fear he would put on himself would be the foundation for a beautiful moment in Cartman's triumph; When Kyle would realize that his fears were to be realized. Or perhaps, more accurately, Cartman was going to up the ante on him.

He clicked his tongue, getting Kyle's furious gaze to focus on his face and a smarmy grin cut through his cheeks. "And just how are you, Jewboy?"

Kyle took a long, steadying breath, trying not to nearly convulse with the fury building within him faster than he could keep up. His gaze flickered to the others watching him before locking back on Cartman.

"Oh, them?" Cartman gestured around. "Business associates. What did I tell you, Kahl? This is all business. And these lovely people are here to help with your end of a transaction."

"What?!" came a stifled response, Kyle regretting the noise as he coughed, wincing at the pressure in his head as he did so.

Cartman waited patiently for him to settle, standing and stretching before walking over and kneeling down in front of him. Kyle snarled, pushing himself against the wall bound arms trying to raise to defend themselves before the tie to his legs brought them back down with a hiss. "Now, now, Kahl. You're upsetting yourself," the brunette feigned a pout, reaching back behind his head and untying the cloth around his head, ripping the rag in his mouth out fast enough to make him gag from the arid scrape brushing the back of his throat. Cartman smirked, getting back to his feet and motioning someone to the side to take care of him.

Kyle tensed, looking over and blinking as a platinum blonde moved down beside him with a water bottle, shaking it pointedly, "Want some water, Sweetie?"

He bared his teeth, "You fucking cunt," he rasped.

"Hey now, that's very offensive," Cartman drawled. "She's a whore. Get it right, Jew."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, showing Kyle the seal on the bottle and untwisting it. "And you're a sucker," she said smartly. "In more ways than one, huh?"

Kyle stared blankly at her before the mouth of the bottle shoved in past his teeth, water flooding his throat before he could comprehend it. He choked, a slue of it washing down his trachea as the rest cascaded down his chin and shirt, turning dried blood into pink streaks. He jerked away from her, panting and sneering.

Cartman smirked. "Say thank you, Kahl."

The man snapped his head over towards him, teeth grinding before his lips quirked up into a madman's smirk. "You really fucked up now," he spat. "No way you're not going to jail for this. No fucking way. Too many people know about what you've been putting me through, won't take them long to break down your fucking door."

"Oh no. I'm so terrified. Watch me tremble. Aaahhh," he said flatly, cocking his brow as he leaned against his table across from him again. "Tell me, Jew, the people who know, who's gonna believe 'em?" he asked. "A poor piece of shit with no financial knowledge? A detective who's breaking the law and working a case outside the force? Or the faggot running around in tights? Hm? If they came up to you claiming this kind of thing, just what would you assume?"

He took a steadying breath, "The three of them have way more to back up their side of things. I've gathered the evidence myself. And you forget how many people know just how much you hate me. You realize that even if someone else fucking grabbed me, if I was living in another state and hadn't talked to you since high school, you would still be the prime suspect."

"Well. Me or your rapey little French boy," he shrugged, smirking at Kyle's momentary freeze. "Kinda ironic, isn't it?"

"What?" he spat bitterly.

"Well, you left him because you didn't like being beaten and fucked without permission… and ya came right back to that concept, didn't ya? Maybe not as literal as of now," he shrugged dismissively, "But I bet it feels like it. Don't it, Kahl?"

His face twisted as much as his broken nose allowed. "You're fucking disgusting."

"Am I?" he snorted. "Or do you just hate how right I am?"

Kyle bit down on his tongue sharply, keeping their sturdy gazes locked. "What do you want?" he said lowly.

"Gonna try to barter your freedom? Sorry, I don't haggle. I'm not a Jew," he quirked his brow.

"I just want to know what the fuck you think you're getting out of this," he said steadily, trying to push down the infuriation that wanted so badly to make his tone waver, the exhaustion that was nearing a pleading voice if he let it slip. "You're going to jail, Cartman. No matter what you do with me at this point, you're fucked."

"Hmmm," he looked up 'thoughtfully'. "An interesting take on things… but I don't think so," he replied bluntly. "Let's really think about what this whole thing has been, Kahl: This entire time I've outsmarted you."

He scoffed, "Me and Mysterion figured out nearly everything you've been doing for ten years in a fucking month. Don't fucking flatter yourself."

"I think you need to be taking your own advice," he laughed. He looked around at the group watching the show with interest, smirking at the lot of them. "So, Guys. Kahl here figured out how we buy where to take our stuff and that we steal money and run drugs sometimes. But apparently that's all we do. So sorry, guess most of you are out of a job." Stifled laughter broke out over the group, Kyle watching all of them warily. How much could he possibly be missing?

"Well, Cartman. I meant mostly what you do," he replied coolly, the instinct to save face prevalent. He was goddamn disadvantaged enough as it was. "Since I know that fat ass of yours can't bother to be peeled from the indent in your fucking chair."

The brunette cocked his brow, tongue running over his teeth. "You really think you're in the position to be making fat jokes, Jewfag?"

"How can I resist? You look even fucking bigger from this angle. Can't even see your fucking face past all the chins."

Cartman slowly broke into a smile, one that made Kyle's innards drop. That wasn't his usual smile. There was something darker to it, the malice spelled clearly in light brown eyes and a subtly twitching eyebrow. This wasn't a look Kyle was prepared for, all at once reminded that he was tied up on the floor, with eleven people more than used to some bloodshed.

"Oh, you're gonna wish that's all we do," he promised him lowly.

He took a heavy breath. "What? You're just gonna kill me? Seems pretty anticlimactic."

Amber eyes twinkled and Kyle backed up against the wall again. It was like watching a descent into madness taking the span of only seconds. "Oh, Kahl. You know me so much better than that," he reminded him, standing from his table and beginning to pace between the two groups of five on either side of them. "After all. If I kill you, I lose a lot. You said so yourself, I can't get rid of you. At least… not like that."

He scoffed, "What? You plan to just keep me hostage? You do realize that if someone tracks you down, they'll find me. Right?"

"I'm not keeping you," he sneered. "I'm not dealing with your whiny moralistic Jew soapboxing all fucking day. I have businesses to run and don't need your fucking sass."

"You mean my law-abiding?" he drawled before straightening back up a bit. "Then what the fuck are you doing?"

He glanced at him and grinned. "You know what's so great about this country, Kahl?"

"From your perspective? I'm guessing ninety-nine cent double cheeseburgers," he muttered.

Cartman rolled his eyes, "No. No, Kahl, it's hope. Hope is what makes this place so damn great, wouldn't you say? Hell, you're a faggoty promoter of that yourself, aren't ya?"

He blinked, utterly lost. "So you're just gonna hope no one finds me?"

"Oh no no no," he tutted his tongue. "But people are gonna hope that they find you somewhere."

Kyle looked around at the smirking faces surrounding them, confused out of his goddamn mind. "So, a hostage?!" he repeated, beyond frustrated with his fucking beating around the bush bullshit tactics.

"Well… in a way," he nodded slowly. "May be what you wanna keep telling yourself you are. Lot easier on the mind than the actual term I'm sure," he smiled.

"What… what actual term?" he eyed him skeptically.

He clicked his tongue. "Well… you see those five over there?" he pointed to the right wall, Kyle following the gesture to see a group of men staring him down intensively and he gulped. "See, they don't run drugs. Or money… well the money a little," he shrugged. "No no, two of them fly a plane… and the other three do the selling."

Kyle took a shaking breath, not wanting to ask the question, pretty damn sure he already knew the answer. "Of what?"

"Why, people of course!" he said cheerily. "Or well, in your case… as close as a Jew is to being a person," he waved him off dismissively. He watched Kyle's face dropping, his own brightening with glee. "See, we have lots of connections off in Europe and Asia," he elaborated. "All over the place, really. But I need you far overseas. I'm not sending you on a fucking vacation in Brazil."

Kyle looked back at him and gulped, "You can't fucking sell me."

"Oh, actually, I can. I have people already interested. They were breakin' my balls at first but…" he walked up to him and yanked on his hair, eliciting an angry yelp. "Your fucking daywalker genes just shot the price right the fuck up." He stepped back and smirked. "Who woulda thunk it, Kahl? Your faggy ass is actually worth something to these people. More literally than you'd like, I'm sure."

"What… whaddya mean?" he stared, this whole thing unfolding too fast. This couldn't be happening. He was dreaming. He'd wake up in Mysterion's arms and everything would be just fine. Everything needed to be fine.

He leaned down with a dark smirk, "Well. I ain't advertising you as a housekeeper. Let's just put it that way."

Kyle's jaw shook, looking around frantically before landing back in those brown eyes. "If I'm not around, the bank accounts get shut down," he reminded him, snapping a bit as he edged near a panic attack.

Cartman watched his lashes flutter in a frenzy, the way his entire body quivered and he couldn't stop gulping nervously. He chuckled lowly. Good. "It all goes back to that hope I mentioned, Kahl," he said simply. "Everyone's just gonna consider you missing. No body to be found, not a trace of the physical you in the states. Plus that little note you're gonna be leaving telling everyone how you're 'going off to find yourself'."

"No one would believe that," he bit. "And I'm not writing shit."

"I fucking forged bank notes and opened accounts as you, you really think I can't forge a fucking note?" he laughed in disbelief, Kyle's stature sinking lower. "Your fuckin' car is already halfway to Utah by now with the plates switched out. You've been whining for months now about how stressful your job is and how you just wish that you could leave. Plus all the money you make? It'd be easy for someone like you to just up and leave. Especially with the twelve grand 'you' withdrew from one of 'your' foreign accounts," he grinned slyly.

He gulped, trying to raise himself back up high. "Stan and Ken would know," he reminded him thickly. "And Stan's on the fucking force."

"Hm, yeah, and half the force is part of the ring so, that one's a tossup," he rolled his eyes before pausing and smirking. "And your little caped friend?"

"He's going to kill you himself," he promised.

Cartman grinned, "Well. Guess that just leaves Kinny. Guess he's useless between them, ain't he?"

"Fuck. You," he spat.

"No, that'll be your job overseas," he said snidely. "We have a French guy on the list. Maybe some familiarity will help you cope."

"KNOCK IT OFF!" he shouted, voice echoing with a light tremor around the space, his head dropping exhaustedly and starting to pant, just overwhelmed with everything. He just needed to get out of here. He needed Mysterion to just get here and tell him everything would be all right, that they'd work it out together.

He whimpered as his hair was tugged again, forced to stare at the brunette's smug expression. "Accounts don't close when a person's only missing," he purred. "If there's no body, they'll stay open until there's a goddamn death warrant. Because they just keep on hopin' that you'll be found and come home. And with people all over the country that I allow to access those accounts? We'll keep it movin' in a nice steady line that just makes it look like you're goin' on a cross-country tour."

He shook, mind desperately trying to pinpoint flaws, halt this fucking madness. "The computers you use won't be-"

"You left your laptop," he reminded him. "Threw it at Kashkov, that was so rude of you, Kahl," he tutted his tongue. "And besides, it doesn't really matter. What matters is this:" he shoved him up against the wall, Kyle's face twitching with the yearning to bite. "Marsh and Po'boy are going to be so focused looking for you that once I'm cleared, they'll leave me to my business. So they can follow those laptop signals all they want. You're gonna be busy bent over for some rich-ass Jawa."

He shut his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. "It's not going to work," he said quietly.

"Oh yes it will," he promised. "We have a nice little video conference in an hour for our bidders. Soon as the transaction is approved in the morning, you'll be in a trunk and on one of the planes," he shook him with a smirk before standing back up and walking back to his table.

"Mysterion will get me out," he said firmly, eyes fluttering back open. "He'll get me out, and you're going straight to fucking prison."

Cartman looked back at him cruelly. "Oh? And will you scream as loud for him as you did on Friday?" he asked innocently, Kyle's jaw dropping. "Which, by the way, the sound files I got from that and sent out?" he grinned. "Rose your price even higher."

"How… how did-"

"Shouldn't leave your laptop open and unattended, Kahl," he advised. "Especially when someone there is taking off clothes."

Kyle blinked before his eyes widened in a horrified realization. Mysterion had taken his mask off in his living room. On the couch. Facing the computer. "You know who he is," he whispered.

"I do in fact," he nodded briskly. "And I'm going to make his life a living Hell for the shit he's been pulling. Given… he's the lucky one between the two of you. No one's going to care when I'm done with him and shoot him through the fucking skull."

"You fucking can't!" he protested furiously.

He smirked, "Wanna bet? Hell, I'll film it. Send it off to whoever the fuck buys you. Maybe tell them to make you watch it while you're being fucked face first into the dirt." Kyle's entire body quaked violently, the brute reality of his situation crashing into him all at one. He was in the hands of an absolute maniac. And as far as he knew, no one knew where he was. Hell, he didn't know where he was. Cartman snorted at his silent horror, nodding to Kashkov. "Take him back to the room for now. We have shit to take care of."

Kashkov nodded back sharply, getting off the wall and making way towards the redhead. Kyle couldn't even seem to find the strength to struggle as the dirtied rag was pushed back into his mouth, Kashkov lobbing him up into his arms once again. Kyle just stared at his legs, barely reacting as his injured knee hit the doorframe as they crossed through. Kashkov grunted, setting him back on the ground and rapidly tying the cloth back around his mouth. "I told you," he murmured with a smirk. "Boss knows vhat ees best for you." Kyle's head dropped and he flicked the top of his scalp. "Now, now," he cooed. "You vill 'ave place you belong. Ees good thing." Kyle snarled, ripping back from him and the noirette snorted, slapping the side of his head a bit. "You 'ave much attitude," he commented. "Someone vill teach you respect."

Kyle's eyes flickered up, glaring at him darkly as he got to his feet and walked away, slamming the door behind him. The redhead sighed, glancing around his confinement, eyes drawn up from a beam of light coming through an egress window up the wall. He jerked a bit, trying to reach his ankles to undo his knots again, slumping as the awkward angle his knee forced him to keep prevented contact.

He let out a long, loud and frustrated groan, head beating back against the metal wall, not giving a shit about the pain ringing through his skull. He had so many bigger concerns to work out for now. He blinked back frustrated tears, staring up at the window into the moonlight, shoulders shaking with emotion, just waiting for Mysterion to come crashing through and get him out of this nightmare.

Mysterion's eyes darted back and forth as he ran, boots pounding ridiculously loud against the sidewalk. But he had to get there, soon as goddamn possible, and opting for going through the woods added precious minutes onto his time. Minutes where he could be rescuing Kyle.

He shook his head, wiping angry tears out of his eyes yet again. He knew so much better than this. He knew what would happen if they got involved. He knew Kyle was always in danger, but he didn't do anything about it. Didn't tell him to get him or Stan on speed dial, didn't demand he carry his fucking knife with him or teach him how to break an arm or do anything that could've prevented him getting hurt.

No, no. There was a chance he wasn't hurt. Mysterion took a shaking breath. The chances were slim, but there was a possibility… He gulped. He just hoped the odds were for once in their favor.

He sped down the main drag of town, turning a sharp right as he hit his target street, arms rocking with him as he sprinted, his cape billowing behind him. His teeth gritted ferociously as he approached CartAd's building, squinting in the night at a car in the lot. It sure as hell didn't look like Kyle's car…

He rushed up towards it, staring at the yellow Beetle and gritting his teeth. Fucking great. Butters. Leave it to him to make this situation harder than need-be… Mysterion paused, leaning his hands on the car hood. Maybe that was it. Maybe Butters' car just… broke down. And Kyle had to give him a ride somewhere. Maybe they went out to dinner, maybe Kyle was finally buying the blonde the drinks he said he owed him. Maybe…

He paused, noticing a still lump in the lot and his heart dropped in an instance. "Oh god. Kyle?!" he shouted, speeding towards the figure, chest clenching in terror. He cocked his head as he drew nearer, breathing a sigh of relief as he noticed the soft, concaved features of a bag, papers scattered with it all around the lot, some blowing softly and thwaping against the pavement with the warm breeze. 'Thank you,' he thought gratefully.

He made it to the bag, bending down and grabbing it, jaw dropping slightly at the familiar sight, but not exactly surprised at the discovery. It was Kyle's.

Mysterion glanced around the lot, heart pounding frantically. They took him. From here. Took him and his car. He wasn't stupid, he knew what this was… They were trying to erase him. No doubt his car sunken in Starks or being pawned off somewhere already. And god only knew where they'd taken Kyle himself…

He clutched the bag to his chest, sinking down on his knees and bending over at the waist, sniffling. "I'm so sorry," he whispered desperately, Mysterion inflection dropping from his tone entirely. "Fuck I'm so sorry, Ky." A soft sob escaped him, clenching around the bag tighter and glancing up into the night sky with an aching heart. "What do I do?" he begged. "He could figure this out, I can't. I need help-"

He paused at the word, back straightening and looking back out into town, out towards the outskirts of suburbia. He was right, he couldn't figure this one out, not on his own.

But he knew someone who could help.