The houses lining the sides of the street went by in a suburban blur, three sets of eyes cautiously watching for anything unusual on their pathway to their destination. The weary blonde in the backseat looked up at the two taller men in front of him, feeling the tension still seeping between them. He gulped, letting his gaze fall and settle on the hooded figure in the passenger seat. Butters bit his lip, grinding it carefully between his teeth. Something about this whole situation was just so off.

He could clearly remember the events of earlier, Cartman backing Kyle into a verbal corner. Kyle's defenses shooting straight up at being questioned about the romantic happenings of his life. And Stan mentioned Kenny thinking with his dick of all things… It'd definitely explain a lot. Why Kyle had been in such a good mood that morning, but merely told Butters that he just had a decent night's sleep for once. Butters doubted that he was lying on that front, but he just seemed too content considering all that was happening to him to feel so good from a mere healthy dose of eight hours. He gulped.

"Kenny?"

"Mysterion," he corrected gruffly, sharp eyes still looking for outsiders, bristling at the fact that Stan had let his identity fucking slip so casually. "When this is on, I'm Mysterion. You understand?"

He nodded briskly, "Gee whiz, I'm sorry. Mysterion," he corrected, "Does… does Kyle call ya Mark?"

Mysterion narrowed his eyes in confusion, sparing him a quick glance, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He twiddled his fingers nervously, "Well… well Eric came into his office when I was there," he elaborated. "Asked 'im 'bout if he had a boyfriend… kept pushin' for a name. Kyle, why… why he just stammered a whole bunch 'fore he said 'Mark'. Got really mad at 'im and seemed awful upset."

Mysterion took a long breath through his nose and nodded. "Yeah, Fatass has known about us for at least since last week. Wouldn't be surprised if he's known since we got together." He leaned his head back, crossing his arms and rubbing them guiltily. "God, I shoulda waited," he whispered. "Should've just held off until this was all over."

"Being yourself might've been a good idea, too," Stan said dryly. "Maybe he wouldn't have been so fucking miserable if you had." Mysterion ducked down lower, shaking and looking away from the detective, light blue smoldering anxiously beneath the shadow of his hood.

Butters looked between the both of them and frowned. "Miserable? Whatcha mean?"

Stan scoffed, "How would you feel if you didn't know who your girlfriend really was? Probably pretty shitty, Butters."

He frowned deeper, "Well… well if she acted the same then it wouldn't matter near as much as you seem t' think." He turned to Mysterion and cocked his head, "Mysterion, did ya spend the night with Kyle last night?"

Mysterion nodded, "Yeah. Someone threatened him and I didn't want to leave him alone… guess it didn't really matter," he muttered.

The blonde slapped his arm and he jerked, turning back and staring at the frustrated man as he crossed his arms sternly. "That ain't true. What if they'd taken 'im from home? Then ya wouldn't have any clues t' where he is!" He turned his head and shook his head at Stan, "And he makes 'im happy, Stan," he said affirmatively. "Why, I ain't ever seen Kyle look as relaxed as he did this mornin'!"

"Well, getting fucked will do that to you," he grumbled in annoyance.

"Stan, what is your problem?" Mysterion hissed. "Would ya be this much of an ass if it was Kenny who was fuckin' Kyle? Or is this just a 'no one can fuck my best friend without going through my background check first' kinda deal?"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Fucking don't make me out to be the bad guy here! I just don't like him being involved with-"

"Anyone," he finished curtly. "You've hated everyone that he's ever been involved with. There's only one person on his list who was a pure piece of shit, and it wasn't me," he hissed.

Stan blinked, fingers tightening around the steering wheel slightly. He couldn't exactly deny the facts. Kenny knew better than anyone how he disdained anyone Kyle brought into his life. Even people he was friends with, like Craig, he just hated seeing Kyle get involved with. Kenny always teased him it was bisexual tendencies, but Wendy made it click years beforehand, saying it was just the same lifelong instinct to protect him that Kyle shared towards himself. But only one person apparently deserved his wariness if Ken was telling him the truth, and it was probably the one he hated the most. He gulped, knuckles going white around the wheel. "It's Christophe, isn't it?" he whispered.

Mysterion took a long breath and shook his head. "That's not what's important right now… but yeah. I'm not telling you what happened, and you are not to ask Ky about it. If he wants to tell you, he will, but you leave the subject alone. There's a reason he came home from Denver, Stan… and he told me himself about the shit he went through," his voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat. "And told me what happened because he didn't want it to happen again with me. I've left this whole thing up to what he wants to do. I haven't forced him into a goddamn thing, stop acting like I have."

Stan sighed heavily, "You realize you two are built on a lie."

He narrowed his eyes, "Do you think that I only have a thing for him when this fucking outfit is on?!" he gestured to himself. "Fuck, Stan, I'm the same fucking person! I just have a different name and sound like I have fuckin' emphysema!" He looked back out the window and leaned back once more. "Besides, I promised him that as soon as this case wrapped up, he'd know who I really was. And that he would be the one to make the final call on us. I never planned on going back on that."

Butters peered around the seat, watching him sympathetically. "Aw shucks, Mysterion. This must've all been awful hard on ya. Well, well I'm sure Kyle will be thrilled t' know who ya really are!"

"Or pissed," Stan drawled. "He's not exactly 'thrilled' when one of us lies to him."

"I did it to keep him safe," Mysterion said quietly, grating tone dropping. "I thought if I kept us fairly disconnected name-wise it'd up his chances of staying out of danger… this is the fourth fucking time Cartman's proven me wrong."

Stan shot his head towards him, "Fourth?!"

He nodded slowly. "At his house, when Cartman punched him… and last week when we went to the storage facility. Some guys grabbed him, but I got him out before he actually got hurt…" he beat his head back against the seat. "God, I don't think I can spare him that this time around," he murmured brokenheartedly. "What if I got him killed?" he whispered, sniffling quietly and glancing up towards the star-paved night.

Stan paused, glancing over at his shoulders subtly rising and falling as he tried to control himself. He bit his lip, eyes falling back onto the road guiltily as he made way towards Kyle's street. Stan knew better. He fucking knew so much better. He knew Kenny well enough to know he'd never intentionally throw Kyle onto the warpath. Hell, it was the staple between all three of them, keeping one another from being stupid and getting themselves in harm's way. The noirette's shoulders sank. This wasn't Kenny's fault. Not one ounce of it. He was just as wrapped up in this mess as Kyle was, just trying to keep himself and the redhead from drowning in the disaster that was unfurling around the both of them. And maybe, he surmised, them being together was helping keep them afloat more than he gave credit for. He knew they both tended to lean on other people for support in rough situations. And if they were the only two staving through this whole monstrosity, then the closer they were, the better both of them would most likely feel. "Who kissed who first?" he murmured.

Mysterion blinked his tear-stained eyes, looking at him in bewilderment. "What?"

"You and Kyle. Who kissed first?"

He gulped, scratching at his hair through his hood. "Uh, I kinda kissed his cheek on impulse and he yelled a little for me surprising him but then he kissed me."

"Aw, back on the cheek?" Butters asked.

He shook his head, "Nope. He went for the kill."

Stan couldn't help but snort softly. "Well, that makes me feel a little better. As many stories as Kyle's told me of first kisses with people he's dated, he's never been the one to initiate that far. So that's something. Better than nothing, I guess." Mysterion watched him confusedly as he sighed and shook his head, turning the car down onto Kyle's road and speeding towards his house. "Look, I'm sure Fatass is keeping him alive for at least right now," he murmured. "I really hate to say it, but he'd be getting way too much joy out of making him suffer first. Ky's probably hurt to shit, but I doubt he's anywhere near dead."

Mysterion put his hand over his eyes and took a shaking breath. "God, I don't know which is worse."

"Death. Death is worse," he said firmly. "I know it sounds shitty, but I'd rather we get him back needing time in the hospital than he just be gone, and you would, too."

The vigilante nodded, hand snagging the handle as the SUV pulled up in front of Kyle's darkened home and halted to a sharp stop. "Have your spare key on ya?" Stan nodded in confirmation, the three of them leaping out of the vehicle and hurrying up to the door, the detective fumbling with his keyring to the third key on the link. He hurriedly hopped on the stoop and shoved it into the knob, throwing open the door and letting Mysterion rush past him and switch on the light. The hooded man ran up to Kyle's desk, snagging his pile of forty names and locations. "Liam Myers?" he asked for clarification as he shuffled through the stack.

"Yeah," Stan nodded, glancing out the window and over at Butters still nervously shaking. "Butters? You okay?"

"I-I'm just awful worried 'bout Kyle," he murmured sadly. "Eric tried t' get me t' leave his office and… and Kyle wouldn't let me leave him alone with him. I think he was scared half t' death of him. I shoulda stayed in his office the rest of our shift. O-or made 'im leave at five with everyone else."

Stan took a deep breath, lightly patting his shoulder. "We're all worried. We'll get him back from that fat sack of shit. And like you said, if they got him here, we'd have no cameras. It sucks but if this was gonna happen, the way that it did is the best way we could've asked for." The blonde nodded somberly, both of them turning to look at Mysterion still sorting through papers.

The hero snarled, finding only street names before his gaze flickered down to the right-hand bottom of the page, eyes widening at the 'employee' ID lingering in the corner. He snapped his head to the other side of the desk, placing his stack down and rapidly searching through another paperwork nightmare from this mess. He clicked his tongue, flipping through file after file until letting out an 'ah ha!' and tearing out the stapled sheets printed from what felt like so damn long ago from Larson's office. He flipped to the 'M's', scanning down to the bottom and smirking, reading 'Myers, Liam – TL-000289'. Mysterion reached back to his addresses stack and split it into three piles, handing both of them one. "See the bottom corner number?" he asked. "Look for one ending in 289," he directed, the three of them flying into a frenzy searching through their individual pages. Nothing but paper shuffling went between the group, breath hitched from each member as they hoped beyond hope they'd find their target.

Butters cocked his head as he hit a particular paper. "Ya said 289?"

"Yeah," he nodded curtly, shooting his eyes up towards him briefly.

He held up a paper, "This one has it."

Mysterion let out a soft gasp, dropping his own stack and snagging the page from his grip, scanning over the number to verify. "This is it," he confirmed, looking back at the picture of a man staring him down with light hair and dark eyes and his lip curled up slightly. He didn't recognize the guy but that didn't stop him from hating him with every fiber of his being. Mysterion looked at the address below the name 'Avicularia', Kyle's neat penmanship beneath the destination. He looked up at Stan, "It's the U-Stor-It."

Butters blinked confusedly, "W-why would they take him there?"

"Because who the fuck is gonna be passing by a storage locker and hear something going on this late at night? And if they own it, no one else is gonna mosey on by," he concluded, the blonde nodding slowly with wide eyes.

Stan took a deep breath, "You're sure?"

"Look, this is the only link we have," he waved the paper a bit. "If it was Myers' car, and he wasn't in the video of Ky gettin' kidnapped, then it's only logical to assume they'd take him to his known building, right?"

He nodded, biting his lip. "Take all the addresses," he instructed, handing Butters his stack and watching Mysterion do the same. "Just in case. Let's hit the storage block," he said firmly.

Mysterion and Butters followed him towards the front door, switching off Kyle's light and stepping back into the night air. They broke into a ran for the car, hopping back into their designated seats and Stan restarted the vehicle. "Stan?" Mysterion asked quietly as they lurched back with a sudden hit on the acceleration. The detective made a small sound of acknowledgement as they sped down the road, the vigilante glancing at the paper in his hand and biting his lip. "Stan, if I kill someone to get them away from Kyle, what's gonna happen?"

Stan was silent for a moment, "There's a lot of 'what-ifs' in there," he finally answered. "Depends on if someone's gunning for him or you or just standing there looking and threatening from a distance. Depends on how helpless Kyle is, how in-control the other person is. Depends on if there was any room for another method to be used in the heat of the moment. Honestly, until the deed's done, I can't tell you how it'd turn out…" he glanced over to see Mysterion still staring at the paper, noting the slight tremor of his hand and letting out a hefty sigh. He reached over and put his hand reassuringly on his shoulder, the both of them locking eyes for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the road. "But what matters right now is all of us getting out of this. We'll figure out the legality later. But Kyle is the priority, I can't tell you how to handle it. Even if I did you'd ignore me and just go for whatever would seem to work anyway."

"Because I'm a criminal, right?" he muttered bitterly.

He paused once again, fingers tightening around his shoulder. "In the eyes of the law, you are," he started slowly. "But right now, the law isn't gonna be what gets him out," dark blue flashed over towards him determinedly. "It's gonna be you."

The world was slowly coming back, and Kyle wanted nothing more than to will it all away once again as pains and aches returned at full force; a rude awakening to say the least. He whimpered, freed jaw almost confused at the lack of cloth shoved between his teeth as his mouth slowly closed, brow knitting and body curling into itself as he tried to find a semblance of consciousness. His head slowly rubbed against the concrete beneath him as he tried to wake himself, breath shaky and feeling the pinpricks of numbness settling onto his left arm from being placed on his side. He gritted his teeth lightly, feeling his injured elbow singing through the static sensation and making itself well known.

His entire face felt swollen, right eye throbbing madly and his mouth fell back open again as his brain kicked in to remind him that breathing through his nose was more painful than it was worth. Heavy, agonized pants fell onto the floor, limbs twitching subtly as he fought to regather his bearings.

"He's wakin' up!" he heard someone call some distance away from him.

His fuzzy state of being couldn't pinpoint a voice. 'Mysterion?' he thought weakly, a spark of hope flashing through him. He let out a hiss and a cry as the back of his skull finally caught up with the disaster, his scalp burning around a thin cut from hitting the floor and feeling the slick ooze of blood matted in the back of his hair. He cringed, forcing his eyes to creak open, a sound of meek distraught coming through at the lack of purple anywhere in his vision, seeing only the eleven blobs that he'd been stuck with for hours. Kyle slumped once more, head falling limply against the concrete warmed from his body heat and just forcing himself to take slow breaths and reminding himself to blink. It was harder to pry his eyes back open each time he did so, but a shrill voice began to ring in his mind that he just couldn't ignore.

'You have to wake up,' it told him furiously, the tone and authority reminding him of his mother of all people. 'If you don't wake up, you might not again. Open. Your. Eyes.' He gulped, teeth parting again as he forced a raggedy breath down his trachea, compelling his lids to raise higher, let his pupils shrink once again as they came back into the light.

He groaned as a rough hand cupped under his head and side, slowly swiveling him up and sitting him back against a cold wall. Kyle's head lolled in disorientation, eyes drooping again but obliging himself to keep them open enough to still see at least partially what was in front of him. 'What the fuck happened?' he thought exhaustedly. He remembered his arms in excruciating pain, emphasized by what felt like strained deltoids bringing the throbbing down into his chest. He remembered something about doing someone's books…

Movement caught his peripheral and he glanced up, right eye wincing and blurred as he tried to focus on the impending threat. Large and sure, it headed towards him, each step bringing him a clearer picture and he audibly gulped. "Cartman?" he whispered, half unsure of his accuracy, half unsure of his consciousness.

The brunette grinned smugly, kneeling down in front of him and chuckling. "How you feelin', Jew?" he purred.

"What… what did…" he paused, wondering if his voice was even audible before pressing forward. "What did y-you do?" he croaked out.

"Taught you a valuable lesson, Kahl," he said firmly. "Soon you're gonna be in a position where you're not allowed to question anything. Sooner you learn that the better."

He narrowed his eyes in bewilderment at the statement. "Position?" he repeated.

"Aw, you don't remember," he feigned a pout, reaching over and patting his head, grinning at him flinching from the touch against his pounding skull. "Remember Kashkov? What you're gonna be doin' for him?"

He blinked as the world finally began fading back into view around him. He spotted laptops still set up behind the brunette, a camera aimlessly pointed on a tripod beside them. Numbers start floating through his ears, brow knitting as he began to piece back the events that'd transpired. Something about people, him, overseas. Realization dawned all at once, face contorting from confusion into a mess of terror and fury. "You can't do this to me," he said weakly, whining as Cartman shoved him back against the wall.

"Way too late for that, Kahl," he scoffed. "Sooner you accept that the better. And I'm doing you such a favor handing you off to him," he said innocently. "He'll take good care of you, much better than some of the others on that list. I'm really going out of my way for you here, Kahl."

Tears beaded his lashes, teeth gritting and air seeping between them, cutting against his gums. "You're insane," he hissed. "You're not getting away with this!"

He snorted, "Please. Fill me with more of your cliché lines," he rolled his eyes amusedly. "Kahl, Kashkov is very loyal," he drawled. "I bet he won't even buy anyone else. He'll focus all his attention on you. And isn't that what you love? Being smothered with attention?" he sang tauntingly. "You know he's been workin' for me for nearly ten years? Never strayed. I'm sure he'll devote hours of his day to making sure you're getting that concentration," he pinched Kyle's cheek, relishing in the redhead trying so desperately to stifle his pained noises.

"Don't do this, Cartman," he whispered, jerking his head from his touch. "Don't fucking do this."

"Why not?" he smirked.

He shook his head slowly, "You're not gonna win. You're just adding to your charges. Just stop."

He snorted, "No, Kahl, I don't think I will. In fact, you're giving me the inspiration to push this just a little further," he purred, watching Kyle's face sinking at the implications. "You know," he said, lowering his voice, eyes flickering to his group of lackeys talking with one another off and to the side, practically oblivious to their heated conversation. "I may break my rule for Kashkov," he said with a smile. "Usually I won't let anyone touch what they pay for until I have the money in my hands… but for his loyalty, maybe I'll let him have a… parting gift," he shrugged, Kyle's skin going pale. "After all, we're gonna miss him around here, it'll be lonely if he's in Russia so we should really show our gratitude. I bet Burke will miss him just as much…" he brightened a bit with a malicious grin. "Maybe they'll share my gift. You know, their last little teamwork exercise before they're half a world apart from one another."

Kyle's jaw trembled, reading the hunger for his personal destruction ringing clearly in amber eyes. "You're disgusting," he managed to work out, fear quickly beginning to override his rage as the situation took hold of him yet again. "You're insane!" he repeated, wincing at his own increase in decibels. "Mysterion knows he's linked to you," he reminded him harshly. "If he's gone, Mysterion's gonna figure out that he has me! He'll fucking get the cops to track him down and that'll be the end of it!"

He chuckled, flicking his forehead. "Did you know Russia really doesn't do all that much to prevent trafficking? They're too busy fighting off bears and frostbite and shit," he gestured dismissively. "And they're not gonna give two shits about a missing American of all things, Kahl. Kashkov could probably walk you around with a leash that fuckin' lights up saying you were nabbed while he goes to get beets and vodka and you still wouldn't be brought back home."

Green eyes flittered to the distant man standing in the background typing on his phone and snapping occasionally at fellow cohorts, a large gulp working down his throat. He slowly turned his attention back to the beaming glutton, jaw trembling. "He'll find me, Fatass," he promised. "And he's gonna fucking break you in half for what you're doing to me. I'm not going anywhere."

A dark grin crept higher through his cheeks. "Really think so, huh? You don't even know who he is, but you're so damn confident in his abilities. It'd be admirable if it wasn't so retarded."

"I don't need to know who he is outside of Mysterion," he said steadily. "Because that's who's coming to save me. Him and anyone he could round up, I guarantee it," he spat.

Cartman snorted, stealing a glance at his phone and the 2:13am on his display. "Well. If all goes according to plan, then he has about five hours to come be your dashing hero," he mocked, fluttering his lashes. "By then, unless he can fly, I think you're shit out of options. And that gives Kashkov plenty of time to start breaking in his new merchandise."

Kyle began to quiver, shaking his head. "Cartman, you can't do this," he whispered. "You can't."

He chuckled, patting Kyle's head and getting to his feet, kicking his right shin hard enough to make him flinch and hiss, curling into a protective ball and looking back up at him with a look of desperation that had Cartman nearly bloated with pride. "I do what I want," he said simply. "And I want to make sure you remember why you're in this situation, Kahl. You got too nosey, got in too deep, and now you're gonna pay for it." He kicked him again and turned to walk away, feeling tear-filled eyes locked on him as he moved towards his group.

Kyle silently whimpered, backing against the wall all he could. He glanced off to the side seeing the rope tethering him tied to a beam supporting the corner of the unit. His fists clenched behind him, eyes darting around as they burned, hoping for some kind of escape route to magically goddamn appear. Five hours. Only five hours… his head drooped forward in defeat, eyeing the still-forming bruises lining his chest and stomach. 'He'll get me out. He has to,' he thought desperately. 'He promised to keep me safe… fuck I'm sure he's close to me…' He braved another glance back towards the group, hearing Cartman murmuring and seeing Kashkov's dark eyes flicker with excitement as they left his boss and landed on him, Kyle's muscles freezing in terror at the ominous expression. 'But he's not close enough.'