There were more than a handful of times in his life where Kyle would look himself in the mirror and tell himself just how absolutely stupid he was. After horrid dates that he decided to sneak off to the bathroom and then begrudgingly go back out to finish the night with whomever he was with. After fucking up that essay prompt about colonialism during his AP History exam and not realizing it until he'd gotten home already. After he'd filled out his I-9 to work for CartAd.

But today? Today had all those blemishes on his better judgement beaten by a landslide. He needed to stand in a funhouse mirror attraction to see himself from every angle, screaming that he was the biggest retard he'd ever had the displeasure of coming into contact with. Then he needed to pay some people off to point at him and say the same damn thing, because this had to be the stupidest idea he'd ever had… But he knew something had to be done.

The redhead took a shaking breath, looking out through the trees back towards the still-opened hatch popping over the long grass and he bit his lip. Rolling back his shoulders, he straightened himself up, slowly making way towards the opened door and looking down inside the hole, lightly gulping. No one down there, as expected. Slowly, he began limping down the front of the woods, wincing at the strain and sighing.

He couldn't help but wonder if Stan was all right, if he'd been attacked by his corrupted brothers in blue. Maybe being held as a hostage while Cartman's gang tore apart the town and put all the good cops out of commission. South Park could be up in flames right now and he'd never know it… Kyle shook his head, forcing himself to rid his worn psyche of that unnecessary strain. Right now he couldn't worry about that, he needed to keep himself focused on what was happening. There were two directions this situation could go, either he found his plan working or he and Kenny- well, Mysterion- found themselves in a world of more trouble.

The accountant finally meandered his way about fifty yards away from the hatch, gulping and tucking knotted hair behind his ears as he looked around skeptically. He could hear the rustle of critters around the trees, birds singing their morning tunes and nature continuing on without a care in the world. It was something Kyle knew he'd be revisiting if he got out of this; and it'd lead to a nice big existential crisis. His eyes drooped wryly, knowing that now was not the time to begin his inner quandaries. That could come later, when he was home and safe. Preferably with an unhooded blonde asshole just figuring out where the fuck to go from here.

Kyle cracked his neck, wincing at the muscular strain, but settling himself as he tried to limber up. He knew he had a bit of a time constraint working against him he needed to fall into. His jaw trembled as he tried once more to make himself seem a bit bigger, outstand the line of fear trying to worm its way down his spine. He'd never been the most convincing actor, but he supposed now was a good a time as any to start making the effort for improvement. He cupped his hands around his mouth, directing himself towards the woods.

"HELP!" he shouted. "SOMEONE PLEASE! HELP ME!"

He heard various animals within the forest scatter at the sudden breach of the quiet early morning. He ignored the stubborn scratching within his throat and took a heavy breath. He dropped his hand, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as he listened closely. He squinted in concentration, his hearing still the slightest bit muffled from the gunshot's decibels. He could hear something in the distance. He bit his lip, re-cupping his mouth and forcing himself to steady his voice.

"SOMEONE! JESUS CHRIST PLEASE HELP ME!" he screeched out, listening to his voice rebound deeper and deeper into the forest, tapering off to nearly a whisper. He glanced around, ears perking as a quick rustling approached him. His jaw trembled and he nodded. "C-can anyone hear me?! Please, I need help!"

Two distinct patterns picked up, moving towards him in unison. He let out a sigh of relief. Good. And they were quick; so he knew who they definitely weren't.

He jerked his head around as color suddenly entered his peripheral. A panicked screech escaped him as Burke flew into his right side, tackling him down to the ground. He whined, squirming under him as his head was shoved against the dirt and rubbed against bits of gravel.

A loud snorting sound came from the woods, Kashkov stepping out and brushing off bits of pine needles from his hair and clothing. "Good catch," he said thickly, making way towards the two on the ground.

"Fuckin' how dumb are ya?" Burke drawled down at the snared redhead.

"G-get off," he rasped. "Please… please stop."

Kashkov narrowed his eyes a bit at the different inflection of tone before casually shrugging it off and smacking his lips. "Are you goeeng to keep makeeng trouble for us, Ryzhevolosyy?"

Kyle stared up at him, trembling before being shaken and slammed against the ground. He cried out in pain, scrunching his eyes and shaking his head, whimpering lightly.

"Smart little fuck I'll give you that," Burke scoffed, reaching up and flicking his forehead pointedly. "Now, you're so smart, whatcha think we want you to do, huh, Red?" he glared down at him.

The man gulped, "I-I… I don't know?" he spoke meekly, cringing as Burke got up off of him. He yelled at a sharp kick to his stomach, rolling over on the ground and curling up in pain, shaking as a shoe toed at his back.

"Vhere do you think you should go?" Kashkov hinted angrily.

Kyle slowly moved up onto his knees, staring at their towering forms and ducking his head down. "The bunker?" he whispered.

"Good. Geet up," he demanded, delivering another hard kick that sent him flying forward onto the ground. He groaned, fingers curling into the dirt and plush grass, sniffling miserably. "Now, Ryzhevolosyy!"

Kyle nodded shakily, getting back onto his knees with considerable effort, stumbling as he forced himself back onto his feet. He looked back at the men, eyes flickering to the woods before his chin was snared, letting out a long whine at the brutal force against his mandible. Kashkov cocked his brow haughtily. "You vant to run again? You think that ees good idea?" he narrowed his eyes. "You run, you von't be vaiteeng until back 'ome," he warned. "You vill deal vith eet again right 'ere."

Kyle paused at the inflection before another tight grab had him cringing at the loaded threat. Thin hands wrapped around his holder's wrist, halfheartedly pulling back as he was yanked closer, a thumb tracing down over his lips. "I'll go," he whispered in defeat, flinching at the unwanted touches stroking over him.

"Good, then go," Burke barked, Kyle moaning as he was roughly shoved forward by the noirette.

He slumped, surrounded on either side by the men as he began to slowly limp his way back towards the hatch. He kept his eyes on the ground, cringing as a hand found its way to his lower back. "Faster."

Kyle hissed, trying to pick up his pace but stumbling at the added pressure on his knee. "I-I can't," he croaked. He froze as the hand snagged around his ass, pushing him forward.

"Should steeck vith me," the noirette shrugged. "Boss vants your 'ead for runneeng."

"He just wants something else," Burke snorted, looking at Kyle's trembling stance as they continued pushing onwards, leading the distraught redhead towards another round of confinement, one that they wouldn't be sleeping through this time. Kyle let out a shaking breath, pushing off the hand groping at him. It came back up and snagged dried, bloody curls and ripped his head back, neck arching as he was lead forward.

"Best learn respect," Kashkov advised lowly. "Eet vill do you vell een future." Burke sniggered and nodded in agreement, the three of them coming up towards the hatch and Kashkov shoving Kyle back down onto his knees in front of the door. Kashkov roughly ordered, "Go."

Kyle gulped, looking between them and the hole before his eyes began to well once more. "I-I can pay you," he offered shakily. "Please. Please don't let him do this to me… I just want to go home. Please."

Burke snorted, "Man, the fuck happened to you? All you've been doin's been sayin' how you'll get out." He bent down a bit, cocking his brow amusedly. "What happened, huh? Finally see that Cape Boy abandoned you?"

The redhead blinked rapidly. They didn't remember… Just like Kenny had said. He nearly lost himself in a barrage of questions picking back up before shutting them down. He permitted some distraught tears to trail down his cheeks, snapping himself back where he needed to be. With a cracking voice, he said, "He didn't abandon me."

"Aw, sure," he feigned a pout and nodded. He glanced up at Kashkov before back at the kneeling man. "How much you willin' t' pay?"

"'ee's not up for barter, Burke," Kashkov rolled his eyes. "I bought, I keep."

Kyle bit his lip, "I have… more than six thousand. I can get you… w-whatever you want."

The noirette snorted, "I admire spirit, Ryzhevolosyy, but nyet. Geet een bunker before ve make you."

Kyle's shoulders sank in defeat, taking a wavering breath before turning and moving to the ladder leading back down into the abyss. He swung himself over the edge, wincing at the strain before forcing himself down the first three rungs. Suddenly, he froze, eyes widening with fright.

"I-I… I can't move," he said, making a show of jerking his body, trying to pull his hands and feet from the metal. He let out a panicked whine. The men looked at each other before kneeling down at the door, staring at him confusedly.

"Fuckin' let go then," Burke drawled.

Kyle blinked, looking back up at their crouched forms before biting his lip. "O-okay," he whispered, leaning his body weight back. Then his eyes flickered up with a smug look, right hand sliding to the edge of the rung along with his foot. He twisted his body off to the side and precariously swinging to dangle off the side of the ladder. "NOW!"

The men narrowed their eyes and then Burke yelped, a quick, steady kick shoving him forward and down, Kyle moving to stay out of his way on his descent. Kashkov barely had time to turn his head before a purple body slammed into his back and sent him careening forward. He clawed for the edge of the hole before slipping down, Kyle just barely missing a grab around his arm to drag him down with him. The redhead swiftly contorted back onto the front side of the ladder, scurried up two steps and reached to grab Mysterion's outstretched hand, letting him tug him up and out past the door.

Mysterion got him safe to the ground beside him, both of them lunging to bring the heavy door down before the disorientated men could get back onto their feet and realize what had happened. They quickly turned the latch back to its set positioning, Kyle staying atop the wheel for good measure as Mysterion snagged his discarded cuffs from his waistband, slamming one ring over a metal handle and the other around a spoke of the dial.

Kyle teased the crank a bit, watching the minimal give and sighing in relief, hearing the men shouting angrily at the door. He yelped as a strong hit ricocheted against the steel, Mysterion grabbing him and quickly leading him away from the hold. They both watched, huddled together warily, tensely observing the wheel. Infuriated shouts continued from within, fueled by the rage of the moment and muffled by layers of dirt and concrete, and together they heaved sighs of relief.

Mysterion looked over and held Kyle's chin, tilting his head around worriedly. "Are you all right? They knocked you around pretty good."

"Trust me, I've had way worse since last night," he laughed bitterly, eyes closing in contentedness at a soft kiss pressing to his forehead.

The vigilante pulled back, thumbs lightly stroking along his cheeks with a soft smirk. "That was a hell of a performance. Hell, I thought you were genuinely scared to shit of 'em."

"You think that acting's good then should see me roleplay," he cocked a teasing brow.

He grinned, "Oh really?"

"I'm a great level fourteen artificer," he said smartly, snorting at the pathetic pout falling on Mysterion's half-covered face. "Wow, stopped you right in your tracks. That's a new one."

"I'm too disappointed from having dreams crushed to think of a response right now," he muttered childishly.

Kyle laughed quietly, body thanking him for finally allowing himself a moment of elation before leaning against his hero. He took a deep breath.

"Okay, now Fatass," he murmured, looking off towards the woods. "I'm not sure where he is, but he can't be that far. He had to've heard me."

"Then why didn't he come?" he narrowed his eyes as he gazed past the trees with him, pulling Kyle closer and holding around him protectively. Kyle twisted his lips, grasping Mysterion's cape lightly in his fingers and playing with the fabric.

"Because he doesn't remember killing you," he said softly, only half believing the words coming out of his mouth. He shook himself out of it. "And he knows I wouldn't start screaming if I'm trying to sneak away. So he probably knew this was some kind of trap and stayed his distance. The fuck knows me fairly well unfortunately."

Mysterion sighed as Kyle rolled his eyes, then kissed his head, "Not well enough apparently. He definitely didn't plan on you gettin' out."

Kyle shrugged, pulling back a bit and staring up at him. He hated the guilt shadowing Mysterion's eyes as he stared at his battered profile.

"Stop," he said sharply, getting a confused blink. "Don't fucking look at me like that, let's just figure out where to go from here before we try throwing a pity party on either of our parts."

The vigilante shrunk slightly at the biting tone and winced. "Look, even with your leg fucked up you can probably still outrun Tubby. Make a break for town and I'll handle him."

The redhead rolled his eyes and dropped his voice into a hushed tone, "Look, we can make jokes until our fucking faces turn blue about how fat and slow he is but if we're being fucking serious, no, I can't. And I wouldn't if it was just him chasing after me," he reminded him staunchly.

"I don't want him to shoot you," he finally let out shakily. "You won't come back."

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "He won't, I'm worth too much to him alive. Ken, let me fucking help. I can't make it back to town by myself anyway. And if I get ambushed outside of Stark's then I'm fucking screwed worse than before…" he trailed off, looking back towards the woods, fingers curling in his cape again. "He's still going to be somewhere around here; he can't risk going back near town. Not in the daylight if his name is circling around town and people are looking for me."

Mysterion nodded slowly, pulling him a little closer. "Well, you got the other two, how do you propose we lure Fatass out?"

Kyle bit his lip, glancing up at him and taking a deep breath. "Not we. You."

He cocked his brow, "I mean, I'm not opposed to you staying out of it, but why just me?"

"Because, if you're running around, there's a chance for me to be saved," he elaborated. "And Fatass won't tolerate that. He knows I can't get out of here on my own. So if he hears or sees you, he'll go after you to keep you away from me. Then he can go after me without thinking you can get me out…" He paused, twisting his lips, "How much do you think he remembers of last night?"

He shrugged, "I've never been able to know how far back everyone does."

"Do you think he remembers blurting out who you are?" He got another shrug and Kyle nodded to himself, mind whirling around the events of the last few hours and trying to pinpoint an indication. "Burke called you Blondie last night."

"How fucking original," Mysterion scoffed.

He held up his hand, "No, you're missing the point. Up until then they'd been calling you 'cape boy' and other fucking unoriginal shit, that changed once Cartman showed who you were. But at the bunker just now, they called you cape boy again."

Mysterion blinked, "I'm really not following."

"Look, take it from someone who's spent the entirety of their life fucking spitting insults at people because I can't always punch 'em," he said dryly. "When you're threatening someone, you get as fucking personal as you can, even if you don't realize it. Fucking just referencing your goddamn clothes wouldn't hit as hard as him referencing you. Does that make sense?"

Mysterion continued his lost stare, Kyle sighing in aggravation. "Talking about Kenny would have gotten to me more than Mysterion. And they haven't exactly spent the last twelve plus hours holding back from making me as skeeved out as possible."

"Yeah?" Mysterion held his gaze.

"So they don't remember that I know. Which means neither. Does. Cartman," he emphasized, looking straight into blue eyes, watching him put the pieces together. "You have the advantage here, because he thinks he has it."

"Okay…" He nodded slowly, head bobbing awkwardly under his hood. "And how do I use said advantage?"

Kyle smirked, "Easy. We let him win."

Stan would have happily spent the rest of his career chained to his desk with an eternal stack of his monotonous paperwork in comparison to the disaster unfolding at his feet. The man chewed on his knuckle, eyes flittering around the bright light of his laptop as it remained seated on the hood of a cruiser. Red and blue flickered around him, various voices calling out to others in an attempt for some grasp of what their next move should be.

"Marsh!" a stern voice bellowed.

He turned from his work, gulping as Yates and Murphy walked side-by-side up his way, reading the displeasure all over Yates' tired face. "Yes, Sir?" he asked, straightening up and nodding to them in greeting.

He gestured around, cocking his brow, "The fuck are you doing?!"

"We have a severe situation that requires most if not all of the units, Sir," Marsh answered steadily. "I have a hostage, a dead body, and a crime syndicate link. We need to stop this before I have two people to bury."

The superior narrowed his eyes in the slightest, "Syndicate?" he repeated. "Marsh, what the hell have you been up to?!"

He let out a long sigh, turning back to his laptop and shaking his head, "Nothing that was required to be reported, Sergeant. Not until tonight anyway. I have a few leads being tracked down, we found an abandoned car at a warehouse on Colfax, we're getting it dusted for prints. We should-"

"Marsh," Yates cut him off sharply, moving to look at him suspiciously as he remained trained on the pictures flooding his screen. "Marsh, we were told you called in for backup at about two thirty."

"I did," he confirmed with a nod.

He looked at Murphy in bewilderment and he cleared his throat, making way to stand with the young detective. "Sarge, I'll handle this," he assured him. "Why don't you go get status reports from everyone so you're up to speed?" The sergeant huffed but nodded, giving Murphy an expectant stare before turning on his heel and walking towards a squad car parked down the street.

The elder looked at his protégé and sighed, "Stan. What happened?"

"He kidnapped my friend," Stan said quietly. "And the vigilante came to tell me."

Hazel eyes widened at the mention. "Came to you?" he repeated. "Why did he-"

"Because Kyle's my best friend… a-and Ken was both of ours," he said, voice cracking before he forced it down and blinked away his tears, continuing to sift through location snapshots.

Murphy's heart sank at the implication, "Oh no," he murmured. "Stan… Stan you can't work on this case. It's way too personal."

"I have to," he looked up at him with gritted teeth, the graying man wincing at his bloodshot, infuriated eyes. "He killed Kenny like the fucking bastard he is. He kidnapped Kyle to do God knows what with him to get him out of the way. He locked our other friend Butters up so he wouldn't get in the way while they took him! I'm taking this fucker down. Either I do it the legal way, or I just fucking go after him. Which do you prefer?" he challenged sharply.

The man let out a long sigh, reaching over and patting Stan's shoulder. "Stan, you know the risk that runs. If you get this son of a bitch, they could use you as a defense for having favoritism and trying to point the blame to someone else. You really shouldn't-"

"I'm not fucking letting Kyle get killed!" he shouted, the elder recoiling a bit from the volume. His lip trembled, "I lost one fucking friend tonight, I'm not fucking losing another! Now please, help me or go back to the office to fucking talk to the underage drinkers! I don't have time to argue, Mitch! Who knows what he's doing to him right now!"

A studious gaze scanned over his disheveled form, the large bags cresting beneath teary blue eyes. There was pure distress leaking off of him in the early morning hours, lights of squad cars beaming off him eerily as he stood there looking like a broken man. Murphy nodded slowly, moving back up to lean beside him and look at his laptop. "We're gonna get him out, Stan," he promised. "We'll take this fuck down. Now. Whatcha got?" he asked.

Stan smiled gratefully before it fell again, going back to his work and taking a long breath. "I had a list of locations that Kyle and the vigilante swiped from the suspect, I sent teams out to track them down…" he narrowed his eyes, glancing at the numbers on his email list. "Why do I only have thirty-nine?" he muttered.

"How many should you have?" he blinked. "Even forty?"

The noirette nodded. "Yeah. Yeah someone didn't send me one of their locations… I split them into eight teams, I managed to get a good portion of the third beat to stay behind and assist."

He twisted his lips, "Did you get overtime approval?"

"I'll fucking pay them myself if I have to," he snapped.

Murphy gave a tiny, teasing grin. "Your wife would kill you."

"My wife will string me up herself if I don't save Kyle," he murmured. "And I'd let her in a heartbeat. Now. Five locations each, it shouldn't have taken them very long since all these are spread around town and they started at goddamn three." His eyes worked down the list, finding the bundles of emails sent by his partnered teams. Lips mumbled silently as he counted five each… except for one set. Stan narrowed his eyes, snagging his walkie and looking around the area. "Billian, Walker, do you copy? This is Marsh, over."

He clicked off his device, he and Murphy waiting for the reply. "Marsh, this is Walker, over."

"Where is your fifth location set?" he demanded, looking between the emails and his compiled list of locations beside him. "I'm missing the photos from Stark's Pond, over."

The line continued to be silent, the detectives looking at each other, reading right away that the other felt just as strange about the situation as they did. "Our apologies, Sir, that set didn't go through. I have it going out to you now, over."

"10-4," he nodded, shoving the clip back onto his waistband and impatiently tapping his fingers against the car hood.

Murphy chewed lightly on his lip, "Where are they?"

"Out on patrol for the car that took Kyle," he murmured. "I have a statewide APB issued, it'll turn nationwide within the next two hours if we don't find him." Murphy nodded, both of them glancing down at a soft sound from his laptop. Stan hummed, moving his finger smoothly along his trackpad, holding back a yawn as he went to open the new file waiting for him. He and the seasoned detective stared intensely as they waited for the first picture to appear, finding themselves looking at a pile of cans and jars behind a pole.

"Where the fuck is this?" Murphy asked.

"War bunker," he elaborated, maximizing the photo and the two men stared at it together as they looked for signs of distress. A dark spot caught Stan's eye, moving his fingers along to zoom in towards the bottom of the picture, the both of them honing in on a stain atop the light grey floor roughly three feet in front of the pole. "What is that?" Stan squinted.

"Not sure…" Murphy hummed, cocking his head.

Stan snagged his walkie again, "Walker, do you copy? Over." They waited a good ten seconds, looking at each other again and the noirette narrowed his eyes. "Unit 454, this is Detective Marsh, do you copy? Over." His thumb left the button, another bout of silence following that made his stomach churn uneasily.

"What the fuck," Murphy narrowed his eyes, waiting another ten seconds before grabbing his own device from his belt. "Unit 454, this is Detective Murphy, do you copy? Over," he repeated, both of them staring at their walkies before looking back at each other. "They haven't called in any stops. Do you think they're in trouble?"

Stan took a deep, wavering breath. He very highly doubted that theory. "Sir… the vigilante told me something… worrisome," he winced. Murphy waved him along and Stan gulped, lowering his voice. "He said that we have officers within the force that are part of the ring. That were bought off. Now I don't know how much water that holds… but I know the person who told me that. He doesn't lie."

"He lies about his identity," he reminded him solemnly.

"Only to keep people safe," he bit before backing off on his tone once again. "Sir… it's happened before, and with much smaller rings. I-I think that he may be right, we may be working from the inside out with some of these members."

Murphy leaned against the squad car and let out a long breath through his nose, nodding softly to himself. "Hate to say this but… makes perfect sense. Only people we catch are ones that M brings in. You'd figure some of them would be out there at other goddamn times of the day, too. How many do you think we're working against here?"

He shrugged, "I honestly don't know. But after we get Kyle out and get the suspect's fat fucking ass thrown in, I think we need to conduct some interviews."

The man nodded sharply, "Agreed. We'll start with these two," he waved his walkie in show.

The younger nodded back, turning back to his displayed picture and biting his lip, focusing his attention on the marred blob cresting the bottom of the screen. Stan's sharp gaze caught the lighting fixture's reflection off of the stain, noting the bright red tint glimmering in the hold. His face dropped. "It's blood," he whispered. "And it's fresh."

Murphy hitched his brow. "You sure?"

"Look," he pointed at the coloring.

He leaned down closer, noting the curvature of red and his lips twisted. "I think you're right," he muttered.

"No better place to keep a hostage," Stan's lip curled into a sneer. "No one can hear him screaming for help if he's underground… We need to go. Now," he said sharply, snapping his laptop screen down and moving to get to the car.

Murphy stopped him, "I'll drive, you're too tired. Get on the other side," he directed. Stan hesitated before catching the parental sternness of his gaze and sighed, doing as told and jogging to the other side of the car. Murphy looked up and around the other officers, counting six total sans the sergeant. "Hey!" he shouted, getting the attention of the three groups on him. "I need all of you to follow me, we have a lead and a possibly endangered hostage!" he bit. "Suspects are armed so remain on guard. Let's go," he waved for them to get to their vehicles, the officers scrambling to do just that as Murphy slid down into the front seat and hastily snapped on his belt. He looked over, catching the concerned glance on Stan's face. "Look, even if any of them are part of the ring, they're not going to reveal themselves," he said solemnly. "And I'd rather we chance that then show up understaffed and at a disadvantage."

He nodded quietly, both of them flinching at a knock on the window, Yates staring in with a cocked brow as Murphy rolled it down. "Where the fuck are you taking everyone?" he demanded.

The elder detective unlocked the back door and gestured, "Get in and we'll explain, Sarge, but we gotta go now."

Yates looked skeptically between the both of them before doing so, Murphy flipping on his sirens and lurching the car into motion. Stan stared off blankly in front of them as Murphy began filling in the blanks for their superior, eyes honed in on the distance and a nauseated gulp receding down his throat. He could only pray that this time, he wasn't too late. 'I'm comin', Ky,' he promised, hand gripping the handle on the door until his knuckles turned stark white. 'Just hang on a little longer.'

A/N: Special thanks to TheCorruptedQuietOne for betaing the first section

Thanks for R&Ring! Three more chappies and this monster is fucking done thank Christ.