Heavy boots trampled down through the woods, a steady gaze sweeping over the mess of foliage laid out around him. Mysterion took a deep breath, fixing his hood back atop his head and peering around suspiciously. His heart was pounding, knowing well enough that one slip-up meant another shot through the head for him and Kyle being thrown into a state of death all his own. This all hinged on him, which would have been fine if not for the massive consequences lingering so forebodingly.
His ears perked, hearing a soft snapping sound off in the distance behind him and he lightly gnawed at his lip. He cleared his throat, "Kyle?" he yelled out. "Kyle, where are you?" He paused, turning and moving slowly towards the forefront of the woods yet again. Out near the open, Kyle had told him. Get him out there and keep himself behind trees if he could manage it. Don't let him have any kind of upper hand.
"Ky, it's me!" he shouted in his grated tone. "I'll get you out of here, where are you?!" He could hear that snapping come to a stop before it picked back up, slowly and surely making its way towards him. He gulped, looking in the direction of the sound and narrowing his eyes. "I know you're here somewhere! Please!" he begged, letting his tone waver in desperation, permitting himself a light vocal crack.
The noise crept ever closer and he licked over his lips, moving towards a low-lying evergreen, gently grabbing around a branch and hopping up. "Kyle?!" he shouted once more before beginning to shimmy his way up into the needles, keeping his eyes on the ground all he could as he climbed. He found himself on a sturdy limb halfway up the trunk, peeling back sporadic twigs to watch below him cautiously. Gloved hands curled into fists at the sight of a rotund brunette cautiously making his way out into the open, gun in hand. He could read the smug grin on his plump face even from his disadvantaged height.
"Oh, Mysterion?" Cartman sang, the hero unable to help the twitch of a smirk. Kyle was right, no way in hell Cartman's ego would pass up this opportunity. "You're a little too late for that," he drawled, walking around genially and peering behind various trees. "I already have the Jew again, you missed your chance," he feigned a pout.
Mysterion narrowed his eyes, letting himself listen out into the woods. He heard a distinct three-beat hit against a leaved branch, the rustles echoing to his spot and he took a deep breath of relief. He was lying, something that Kyle had been more than prepared for, thankfully.
"He's just cryin' his poor little Jew heart out for you," he continued, his meandering turning more and more suspicious with every step. "But I'm sure Kashkov will keep him nice and preoccupied," he shrugged.
The hero snarled silently, fists shaking as they curled around the bough. Lie or not, he sure as hell had a knack for getting right under his skin. He always had. He could never understand it, how Cartman's specialty was hitting anyone's lowest spot and reveling in the pain it caused. He was no fool, he knew antisocial personality disorder tendencies ran deep and always had in his childhood 'friend'. Remorse was something that meant next to nothing to the brunette, only able to revel in victory and pass off the blame when things went awry. Kyle had been saying for nearly three decades how he knew one day the man would go too far. Stan started truly understanding and distancing himself as soon as he'd been put through psychology courses for his career. Kenny? Kenny always held out some degree of hope. Maybe it was being literally stuck with him as his default best friend with Stan and Kyle already inseparable from one another. Maybe it was growing up dirt poor and learning that one held on to every single thing one had until it was past any hint of use or bringing something good into one's life, whether it be food, clothing, or relationships. Maybe it was the same tendency that he, Kyle, and Stan all shared: Believing that there was some good in every person. However, the other two had long accepted Eric Cartman being the exception to their rule, and Kenny had just been too slow on the uptake he supposed.
Never before had he regretted being the forgiving type so much as he did now. Cartman had gone way too far, past the point where he could even begin to atone for the sins he'd committed against himself, Kyle, and the people of so many various communities that he couldn't even fathom where to start unraveling the disaster. But, he supposed, taking down one of the ringleaders was a hell of a good start.
"Tell me, Mysterion," Cartman continued belting out, "what's the worst part of this for you? The fact that you've been wasting your fucking time? That you've thrown away so much of your life for a worthless cause? Or is it just that you know Kahl's over in that bunker having the worst time of his life? Or hell, maybe the best, he seems to get off on men he doesn't know fucking him into the ground, doesn't he?"
Mysterion's body tensed, teeth gritting against one another irritably. He could only imagine how Kyle was holding up from his own location, knowing the redhead well enough to know that Cartman was striking at his nerves with a vigor. He was no fool; he was trying to get both of them out to him. Get both of them enraged enough he'd have a clear shot of Mysterion's head and Kyle's leg. That was the unfortunate part of it all, Cartman knew both of them well enough to know how to push their buttons. But, unluckily for him, they were more than aware of his games.
The vigilante reached back into his cape, grabbing his locksport kit and licking his lips. He pried down a branch, giving himself a clear shot out towards the front of the forest and gulping. Cartman turned his head to look around another tree and Mysterion snapped his arm back and forward, lobbing the heavy kit off and away. It landed against a tree and onto the ground with a clattering sound, the brunette catching it immediately and shooting his head back towards the noise. A grin crept up his fat face, placing his gun in front of him and beginning to creep towards the source.
Mysterion narrowed his eyes and watched, carefully shimmying down the branches and back onto the ground, hiding out behind a trunk and peeking around the thick bark to watch him move. "Come on now, Mysterion," he drawled, "it ain't so bad. He'll be taken care of. You give up now and you can just go on home. Rest easy knowing that he's in good hands. Many, many hands," he pressed, Mysterion having to stop himself from leaping out right then and there.
Carefully, breath hitched, he slithered around the trunk, creeping up to another nearby conifer, continuing to trek after the man apprehensively. Cartman came up to the thrown kit on the ground, picking it up and humming as he turned it in his fingers, observing the tools not knocked out of the packaging. "Really a shame," he called. "You could be great on my side of things. Always nice to have some mindless peons doing nothing but following orders. And you're damn good at that one, aren't you? Just look at how the Jew has you wrapped around his filthy fucking fingers like his spineless little bitch."
Mysterion couldn't help but smirk at another three-beat hit against a branch in the distance, able to practically feel the heady rage that Kyle was steadily gathering. Cartman was creating an impending storm; something that could either be his asset or his liability. Mysterion dropped back into a frown. He'd make damn sure that the glutton had run out of advantages this time.
Cartman's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he came to the forefront of the woods, head turning over towards the small field of tall grass. "What the…" he muttered, noting the closed hatch door, hearing a constant rattling coming from the area. He twisted his lips, moving to step towards it. Mysterion growled, picking up his pace and staying light on his feet as he dodged around foliage to approach his target. Couldn't let him let the other two out, they'd lose their edge in a heartbeat. The vigilante crouched down, moving stealthily alongside the man as he walked towards the hatch. His eyes flickered onto the gun, taking a steadying breath and rolling his shoulders back in preparation. One swift move. Just one and he could end this right here and now.
He gritted his teeth, ears perked and listening for his telltale two thumps against leaves in the distance before breaking out into the field, racing towards the brunette. Cartman's head snapped around at the sudden noise and color, jaw gaping a bit before Mysterion leapt forward, tackling him down to the ground with a loud yell coming from the glutton. Mysterion grabbed his gun in his disadvantaged state, slipping on the safety and chucking it off and away. He groaned as Cartman found his bearings, raising his knee up into his stomach and the both of them struggling against one another.
"Get off, you faggot piece of shit!" Cartman spat.
"Just stay fucking still and go quietly, Fatass!" he shot back, hands reaching up and snaring around his shoulders, shoving him down against the ground hard. "I should fucking strangle you for what you've done," he hissed venomously. Cartman's face broke into a cruel smirk, awkwardly reaching up and snagging his cape.
"What? What hit such a nerve? Outsmarting you? Or selling your little faggy boyfriend off? Hm? Which one?"
He growled dangerously, lifting and slamming him against the ground again, "You know damn well which one!"
Cartman shrugged nonchalantly from his strained angle. "Well, not my fault that you decided to fuck the Jew. Hell, I'm surpised. Figured you would've thought his rich faggot ass would have higher standards than you."
Mysterion narrowed his eyes, "What are you talking about?"
"Well, I'm just saying," he blinked innocently. "Usually that type goes for someone in their own income bracket. Not for poor pieces of shit from the wrong side of the tracks. Ain't that right, Kinny?" he hissed. Mysterion froze and Cartman leaned back with a smug smirk. "What have I told you for years, Po'Boy? Don't get involved with Jews, business or otherwise. They'll always screw you over," he grunted, ripping his arm out of its gloved hold and rearing back, sending his fist firmly against Mysterion's cheek. The hero yelped, falling off of him and rolling on the ground, stumbling back onto his feet and cupping his face. He glanced up, jaw dropping at Cartman getting himself back up and reaching into his pocket, snagging another gun out of the hold. The brunette grinned, "What? You didn't think I'd only have one, do you? They only hold fucking ten rounds! Given, why am I surprised? You'd be the last person to know what it's like having extra, huh, Kinny?"
Mysterion glared, straightening up and staring him down, "How did you find out?" he demanded.
"You thought with your dick," he scoffed. "You know, I thought even you would want to aim higher than that, Po'Boy. Just followin' instinct and grabbin' whatever cheap piece of junk comes your way?"
"Knock it off, Cartman," he warned, beginning to move to the side out of the path of the gun. Cartman followed his movement, the both of them circling around one another and penetrating eyes locked in a clashing war all their own.
His face twitched into a smirk, "Bet that tears you up, don't it? Knowin' he wouldn't give two shits about you if you weren't runnin' around dressed like a comic book faggot."
Mysterion's expression fell darker, "Just give it up, Fatass. You can't fucking win on your own."
"On my own?" he repeated. "Kinny, I have an army of people. Plenty to take the fall if something happens. With you and Kahl gone, I fuckin' win," he hissed with glee. "And the best part is how I get to fucking ship him off and tell him that it was you this whole time!"
He glared, "What would that accomplish?"
The man shrugged casually, "Then he gets to relive time and again how he got you of all people killed. Why, it'll drive him out of his mind. He'll break," he feigned a pathetic pout.
"I think you're severely underestimating him," the hero said firmly, continuing to carefully toe his way around their circular path. "He'd find a way to get rid of you."
He snorted, "Yeah. The American sex slave in Russia is gonna be able to get the money and resources to get back home to exact revenge for a poor piece of shit he fucked a couple times. Cute little fevered dream there, Kinny." Cartman looked him up and down and chuckled, "May as well ask: Why the fuck are you doin' this shit?"
"Because I don't like people like you being out on the streets, Fatboy," he spat bitterly. "People don't deserve to have to put up with a fucking tyrant running around acting like he's more than he is and taking everything like a spoiled little kid."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh ow. I'm wounded. Your words have been my undoing."
Mysterion came to a stop, facing himself towards the woods lingering behind Cartman's broad back. "You're not getting away with this," he warned.
"Yeah, and the Jew said the same thing. Right before I auctioned him off and fucking got away with it," he hissed. "And right before Kashkov made him his fucking little bitch." Mysterion paused, eyes narrowing in bewilderment. "Oh, did I not tell you?" he smirked. "That's already been done. And Kahl cried all fuckin' night. Just kept screamin', you'd think he was bein' stabbed," he shrugged before looking up and giving him another raised shoulder. "Guess he was if you wanna get technical." The vigilante was at a loss, trying to read him desperately. He didn't seem like he was lying… but with Cartman's bragging it was always so goddamn hard to tell.
They both jerked at a noise coming from the woods. "Kenny? Kenny where are you?!" Kyle's voice called out.
Cartman's face paled, looking back and blinking. "What the fuck?!"
Mysterion snapped himself back into attention and leaped forward again, taking him down and shoving his weapon-wielding hand up and out of the way. Cartman let out an impassioned growl, moving his knee up into the vigilante's stomach and shoving him back upwards, taking him forward and pinning him underneath him. The caped man snarled, keeping his fingers firmly wrapped around his wrist and hand, pointing the gun away from his direction.
"So, Kahl's a liar then, huh?" Cartman spat, shoving him firmly downwards. "Knew all along he was getting your lower class herpes or some shit."
He grunted, rolling them over to take the higher advantage, struggling to support all the excess weight under his own skinny frame. "Poor you," he mocked. "Don't get to have an advantage for once. Guess it really sucks being the one not-in-the-know, don't it?" He let go of Cartman's free arm for a moment, bringing a steady fist down into his eye. The brunette yelped, reaching up and grabbing his hood blindly, ripping it down to a halo of blonde hair glowing in the morning light above him, infuriated blue eyes delving into his putrid soul. "You fucked with the wrong person," he snapped, punching his eye again, watching the beads of pained tears line his lashes with a morbid smugness before yelping at a hit against his ribs and jerking in reflex.
Cartman rolled with the movement, taking the upper hand yet again and struggling to relinquish Kenny's ironclad grip around his right hand. He sneered as his left arm was snagged as well, keeping him planted down over him and amber eyes burst with raging ego unmatched. "Which one of you?" he taunted.
He leaned up and spat in his face, getting another furious growl of derision. "All fucking three of us," he hissed. Kenny gasped as his left hand moved suddenly out of his hold down over his throat, blue eyes blown wide as he struggled to push him off, the pressure against his trachea just barely held off from his disadvantaged fighting. Kenny kept his firm grip wrapped around his right arm, refusing to let it budge even as he wheezed brokenly for air, feet kicking uselessly as he stared into vainglorious brown eyes.
"Well, we'll get it down to just one of you then," he said lowly, leaning his weight down further and Kenny letting out a weak, dismayed cry. Cartman grinned wildly, watching and waiting for his crowning moment before something blunt jabbed against the back of his thick neck.
"Get off of him. Now," a firm voice broke behind him. He started to turn before the all-too-familiar sound of a pistol's safety being switched off ricocheted off his skull, the vibrations settling uneasily against him. He continued his half-turn, glancing up and seeing a bruised, worse-for-wear redhead glaring down at him. "Get off right now, Cartman!" he demanded.
The grip on Kenny's throat lessened a fraction as the two of them remained locked in their staring war. He glanced up with blurring vision at the forgotten gun in Cartman's hand, moving quickly to duck his fingers down and snag around it, aimlessly lobbing it backwards a good ten feet away from the three of them. Cartman turned and watched it sailing off and landing out of his reach, glancing down at the still-struggling blonde underneath of him. The gun pressed more pointedly against him and he steadied himself, relinquishing Kenny's throat enough for him to gratefully sneak in another mouthful of air.
"You won't shoot me, Kahl," he said confidently. "Your weak-ass hippie genes won't let you."
Green eyes narrowed dangerously down at the glutton. "You were going to sell me as a sex slave," he reminded him bitterly. "You really think I'd have any bit of a problem killing you? Let go of him!"
He smirked, giving a casual, lazy shrug. "Why? So you can go get fucked again? Or was last night enough for you?"
Kyle blinked confusedly, meeting eyes with Kenny for a moment who shared the expression before tightening his grip on his gun. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked lowly.
"Aw, you already started repressing," he mocked. "I don't think that'll hold you over forever, though, Kahl. You might've wasted an opportunity to block out even worse."
The redhead's face contorted lightly before shaking himself back into action. "Cartman, I'm done fucking around. Get off of him right the fuck now!"
Kenny looked up at Cartman's conflicted expression and growled, raising his knee straight up against his lower abdomen, the brunette cringing with a pained moan. He twisted and thrashed, planting his foot against the brunette's thigh and kicking off to slide out from under him. Kenny rolled back onto his feet, rubbing over his throat and panting as he stepped back up beside Kyle. "You're making a mistake," Cartman warned, wincing at another jab against his neck.
Kyle looked up at the blonde worriedly, "You okay?"
He nodded with a small smile, "Thanks," he mouthed, getting a tiny grin back before they both turned their attention back down towards the kneeling glutton, watching his fingers tearing angrily at the grass beneath his fingertips. "Want me to run into town and get the cops? Since I can get there faster?"
Kyle nodded, "Yeah, I can keep this fat fuck-" he stopped, the three of them looking up at the sound of voices calling within the woods. They tensed, Kenny backing up in front of Kyle protectively as they watched the trees with caution.
"Kyle?!" a desperate voice called, the redhead brightening.
"It's Stan," he breathed before looking up at Kenny's posture lightening in the slightest. "Ken, go!" he urged.
"What?" he looked at him in confusion.
Kyle reached up and flipped his hood back onto his head. "They can't see you or who knows what they'll do, just get out of here, I got this." The man paused before nodding, leaning down and planting a long, hot kiss against his lips, Cartman groaning in disgust from the ground before he pulled back, smirking at the blush riding Kyle's cheeks.
"I'll see you later," he promised, darting off around them and heading towards the side-winding plot of forest away from the group.
The redhead smiled fondly before looking towards the trees in front of him, keeping his gun firmly set against Cartman's neck. "Stan! Stan I'm over here!" he called out. "Towards the pond!" He sighed in relief as the sound of footsteps began moving towards them briskly.
Cartman's eyes widened as the implications hit him all at once. Like hell he was going out like this.
He turned, Kyle barely catching the movement before the gun was snatched from his hand and Cartman whirled onto his feet, grabbing him around his arms and pulling him back against his chest. Kyle growled, groaning at the barrel shoving up against his neck and the grip around him tightening. "Cartman, just stop!" he rasped. "It's fucking done!"
"Like fucking hell it is," he muttered, keeping his eyes trained against the trees and keeping him steady. "You fucking do one goddamn thing and I swear to Christ that's it for you!" he spat. Kyle gulped, both of them glancing up at a group emerging from the trees, Stan at the forefront freezing at the sight before him before snarling, whipping his own gun out of his holster and pointing it at the brunette.
"Drop him, Cartman!" he snapped, fellow officers following his lead and moving around to surround the situation.
He growled, "You won't shoot with the fucking Jew here!" he reminded them sharply. "Don't wanna take a chance and hurt him, do you?!"
The detective planted his feet firmly and scowled, "You're adding to your charges, you fat piece of shit! Let him go!"
Kyle winced as he was shaken, the gun rubbing irritably against his jugular. "Don't make me kill your fucking boyfriend, Marsh!"
The redhead looked around at the tense stand-off surrounding him, glancing at Cartman's panicked movements, feeling him tremoring around him and biting his lip softly. "Cartman, either way, they're going to know what you did," he reminded him softly, keeping his voice calm and closing his eyes as the weapon shoved harder against him. "Don't add this to the list."
"Shut up like a fucking hostage, Kahl!" he spat. "If I go down, so do you."
Kyle looked between him and Stan, taking another deep breath. "He's feigned bank accounts in my name!" he shouted, Cartman looking down at him in shock. "He sold me to a Russian to take as a fucking sex slave! He's been extorting me for months and stealing from charities! The two he sent to kidnap me are locked in the bunker!" he grimaced at Cartman roughly tightening around him, shaking him roughly and smacking the side of his face with his gun.
"The fuck are you doing?!"
"You're only keeping me alive to use as a shield," he spat. "This way, no matter what happens, they know what to look into. And they can book you for every. Single. Thing," he spat. "You're not getting out of this, whether I'm alive or not. So make your fucking choice."
Cartman glanced around at the officers staring them down, itching trigger fingers rearing to go. He looked back down at the confidence beaming down on Kyle's bruised face, feeling an unquenchable rage swelling within him. "You fucking little piece of shit," he spat, twisting him forcefully and slamming the muzzle against his forehead. "You wanna go so bad? Fine!"
Kyle's eyes widened, Stan's jaw dropping. "CARTMAN DON'T!" he screamed, flinching as he watched his finger pull back on the trigger.
Cartman blinked in shock, watching a trail of water leaking down Kyle's forehead and around his bloodied nose. A sly smirk curled up the redhead's lips. Kyle leaned up towards his face and huffed out a small, smug laugh. "No one better to work around than someone whose every goddamn move you know before they do," he purred. The brunette's face dropped, Stan shaking himself out of his paralysis and growling.
"Hands up and get down on the ground, Cartman!" he demanded, stepping towards him with his fellow officers. Cartman looked around in a frenzy, trying to figure out a course of action before Kyle twisted violently down and out of his grasp, rolling out of the way. Cartman moved to chase after him before yelling as he was tackled down onto the ground, cuffs finding their way around his wrists as the words on the officer atop him echoed blankly, staring at the redhead as he shakily got back up onto his feet and met his gaze.
Stan turned his gun's safety on and stuffed it back into his holster running up to Kyle and grabbing around him. Kyle blinked before wrapping back around his waist, both of them letting out shaking breaths of relief against the other. "Jesus Christ, are you okay?" Stan whimpered, professional and angry tone gone in an instant.
Kyle nodded against his shoulder, clasping around him tighter. "I'm fine. Good job finding me, Man. Ken told you that you make a great Velma," he murmured, feeling Stan laughing softly against him. They both pulled up at the sound of Cartman spouting off expletives, watching his fury with smirks.
"Hey, hey hold up before you haul him off!" Stan said, leading Kyle over towards his raging, tremoring form staring up at him. "Ky," he gestured towards him. "I made you a promise for once he was arrested."
Kyle blinked before grinning at his best friend, getting another permissive nod. The redhead looked down at him and cracked his knuckles, shaking his head. "Man, betcha wish I was still in the cuffs, huh?" he said. Cartman narrowed his eyes before flinching, Kyle's left fist rearing back and slamming down into his nose, Kyle beaming wildly at the feeling of crackling under his fist. He pulled back and shook out his hand as Cartman screamed in pain, nose flooding with blood all at once.
"Oh, Man, really sucks you fell while trying to resist arrest, Cartman," Stan pouted.
Murphy smirked, he and another officer hauling him up onto his feet. "Yeah, Guy, you really should be more careful."
The brunette seethed, staring at Kyle furiously. "This isn't over, Jew. I swear to fuck it isn't! You and Kinny are both dead!"
"That's threatening, we'll add that to your list, Buddy," Yates scoffed, waving the officers along to escort him out to their cars at the forefront of the woods.
Kyle watched after him with a long breath, Stan looking down at him and narrowing his eyes. "Does… does he not know what he did to Kenny?" he asked with a slight crack in his voice. Kyle sighed, Stan shedding his jacket and putting it over his shoulders, the redhead looking up at him with a sad smile.
"I'll tell you everything I know on the way to the hospital… please," he said exhaustively. Stan nodded, bending down a bit and pulling his arm up over his shoulder, helping him limp his way towards the trees. Kyle glanced towards officers surrounding the bunker and getting ready to undo the cuffs around the wheel, shouting out orders. He gulped, huddling closer against his best friend as he turned, looking out into the sidelines of the forest. His lips quirked into a small smile, seeing a flash of purple turning from behind an evergreen, heading deeper back and out of sight.