Kenny gently dapped the wet paper towel on Trent's chin, feeling him tense slightly under the touch. He really found Cartman's last-minute move of punching Trent in the face to be the stupidest thing he had ever heard of. What kind of dumb thinking was that? Oh, he's going to leave, let me just punch him!
Honestly, the balls on that guy.
Kenny threw the used paper towel out and took a new one. Trent had been pretty adamant that he wanted to take care of it himself, but he couldn't get his cast wet, and cleaning a bloody nose was a two-hands job.
"How's your ankle?" Trent asked, his voice muffled by the paper.
"Hurts like a bitch." Kenny replied. He had been straining to stand on one foot this whole time. So, Trent was one holding him up with a strong arm around his waist at the moment. "How's your back?"
"Blue," Trent mumbled. Understatement of the year. Kenny had seen it yesterday, and it was way worse than just blue.
"Hm, where's your cat?" Kenny asked. He didn't know how the conversation between them had turned into such awkward small talk. He supposed maybe the guilt of not telling Trent about Victor was keeping his tongue tied a bit.
"Stan took it," Trent replied. "And left. Fuckin' dickhead."
He probably went to feed it with Kyle. Kenny had seen them leave earlier. Trent pulled him closer to himself, and he felt his face heat up. God, his face was probably so red. Somehow, it made him feel a pang of guilt. How dare he stand there blushing and not even tell him about Victor? That had to be some kind of betrayal.
He thought back to how petrified Trent had been mere hours ago, throwing up and trembling at just the thought that the guard was alive. And here Kenny was, not telling him that Victor was probably the guard.
"You think it's broken?" Trent asked.
"No," Kenny said. "Cartman's not strong enough to actually break someone's nose. Don't be a baby."
The more he thought about it, the more it didn't matter. Before long, Victor would go back to Denver, and be out of their hair. And Rick would eventually stop getting him to come over all the time. After all, he was already drinking his way to an early grave. Or maybe one day, he would realize how badly Victor had been treating him and cut him out of his life for good. No, that seemed improbable. If Rick couldn't tell his own behavior was bad then he couldn't tell that his beloved big brother's behavior was bad.
Oh, who was Kenny kidding? Victor would keep coming back over and over again. What was stopping him? They had to tell Trent at some point.
"Hey, I know we've told you about Victor already, but like…" Kenny began, having no clue how to phrase this in a way that lessened the blow. "He's, uh…"
"Rick's brother? You already told me that." Trent raised an eye brow in confusion.
"Okay, well, first you need to know that he only comes around very, very rarely. Like basically never." Kenny continued, "Rick only calls him when he going through a tough time. Like, a really, really tough time."
Kenny scoured his mind for memories of Rick calling Victor: when he accidentally rear -ended a lady's car, gave her whiplash, and needed legal advice, when he got stabbed on the job, and when he had to shoot a rogue dope addict in self-defense. Only three times in a year. Rick had only called Victor to come help him in those incredibly serious situations. And now, Victor was here again.
"Yeah. He's definitely having some mental breakdown or somethin'." Trent mumbled, noticed Kenny's confused expression, and then elaborated. "Well, he keeps calling me Max and stuff. So, you know…"
No, Kenny did not know. So, of course, he pressed him and somehow opened the weirdest can of worms he had opened in a long time. It turns out that every time Rick got drunk enough (which was basically all the time), he would start calling Trent Max. He would apologize over and over and ask if Trent i.e. Max was haunting him. The explanation made Kenny feel like a bucket of ice water had been dropped on him. It might not have been irrefutable proof, but the fact that Rick felt such guilt about Max's death spoke volumes.
Rick had to be aware that Max and Trent weren't the same person. Surely, the realization that he was losing touch with reality had spooked him enough to call Victor to help him. Kenny shuddered, wondering what kinds of things Rick might do if he completely lost the ability to discern the difference.
"Shit, dude," He whispered. "That's insane."
He doubted, he really, truly doubted that having Victor around helped with Rick's mental health at all.
"Yep." Trent shrugged. "I was thinking about just avoiding him."
"Good luck with that. He kinda stalks people he doesn't like," Kenny drawled, "You know, he just apologized for basically stalking me. I think Vick made him do it."
"Really?"
"Yep. He came up to me like, 'I'm so sorry I've been an ass to you, and you deserve better, and I'm a loser, and fuck me, and I'll stop bothering you all the time, and blah blah blah.' It was really forced obviously not genuine at all." Kenny paused for a moment, looking elsewhere, then going back to the conversation.
The whiplash of having Rick try to assault him yesterday to having him apologize today was crazy too. Insane, actually. Few words could really describe just how strange he felt when he received that apology. Naturally, seeing Victor's smug face behind Rick was all the explanation he needed.
Trent grimaced, still holding the paper towel to his bleeding nose. "That guy's a total dick. I wouldn't trust anything that comes out of his mouth."
Kenny nodded, "Yeah, and if Victor forced him to apologize, it was probably some punishment for something." Knowing Victor, it could be a punishment for anything: from breathing too loudly to existing in a too obvious manner. His punishments were always so subtle though. No one ever realized Victor was the one behind them.
Kenny shifted slightly, wanting to lean against the sink, but his injured foot hit the floor too hard, and he yelped in pain and lost his balance. God, this sucked. Trent's arm tightened around him, keeping him from falling.
"You okay?" He asked.
"Barely," Kenny grabbed for his crutches, seeing no point in using both his hands on Trent now that he had stopped bleeding. "I swear, if Victor doesn't beat Rick's ass over this, I'm doing it myself."
Trent let go of him, chuckling slightly, "Sure, good luck with that." He said, making a move to leave the bathroom. "Anyway, I want my cat back. Wanna join?"
Kenny absolutely wanted to join. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to go see that adorable little kitten? But the excitement was cut short when he remembered why Cartman had sent him in here in the first place.
"No, wait, you can't just leave," he said, grabbing onto Trent's wrist. "Why don't we just chill out in here?"
"Uh, no," Trent said. "It stinks in here, and that asshole took my cat."
"W-well, uh," Kenny scrambled for any reason to keep Trent in here. "Uh, uh, he'll probably come back with it. You don't even know where he is right now anyway."
Trent's eyes darted between Kenny's hand on his wrist and the look on Kenny's face, and he frowned. "Why're are you trying to keep me here?"
Kenny would through at least 8 different court trials in his head, considering whether to tell Trent about Victor or not. On one hand, learning that Victor was the guard would probably seriously fuck up his mental health. Honestly, he was panicking at the thought that the guard was even alive. How would he react to knowing that the guard, as in the guard was right outside, right now, beating Cartman up?
But then again, Trent would find out sooner or later. Rick was his neighbor after all, which meant Victor would be pretty damn close to his home. Besides, he had already made up his mind to tell him.
"A-about Victor…" Kenny began. He desperately thought about any way to make this blow less harsh. "He's… he might be…"
Suddenly, the restroom door creaked open, and calm footsteps stepped inside. Someone was here. Kenny looked for a mere second. The sudden entrance interrupted Kenny's attempt to explain the Victor situation to Trent. Both of them turned their attention toward the door, apprehension evident in their expressions. The atmosphere in the small bathroom shifted, tension hanging in the air.
Did Kenny's eyes deceive him? How impeccably bad timing could a person have?
There he was, grabbing a paper towel to clean his bloody nose and splashing some water on it: Victor Blackthorn, in the flesh.
"Oh, sorry, Ken. Didn't mean to interrupt your make-out sesh." Victor teased, turning his attention to the faucet. "So, he's your new boy toy? He's hot."
Kenny felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The very person they were trying to keep Trent in the dark about had walked into the bathroom at the worst possible moment. He exchanged a quick glance with Trent, who seemed a lot calmer than he had expected. Maybe he was gaslighting himself. After all, Victor was wearing his gloves. No rose tattoo in sight.
The whole interaction seemed so strange. Victor didn't seem to recognize Trent at all. Somehow, the thought of it pissed him off so much. How dare he traumatize someone and then not even remember what he looked like?
Then again, he had only spared Trent a passing glance before his attention was on the mirror and his bloody nose.
"You sure move on quickly," Victor drawled, "How long's it been? Two months? Fast." Almost as if he realized how insulting his statement was, he started backtracking ever so slightly. "I mean, I guess you and Rick weren't that cute together anyway. Don't get me wrong, I love him. But he's just such a mess. I swear, I don't know what you saw in him."
Kenny put on the best fake smile he could muster, "Heh, yeah, I wonder about that every day." He let out a nervous, fake laugh, unable to bring himself to turn his head to Trent. He didn't want to see his reaction. "Anyway, what happened to your nose?"
"Kickboxing happened," Victor mused. The blood had stopped flowing, but there was still a bit dried on his face. "You should tell Cartman to get another new interest. Kickboxing is not his talent."
Kenny swallowed some spit. If Cartman had hit Victor hard enough to draw blood, then Victor must have retaliated hard.
"I'll let him know."
His mind raced as he thought of a way to get out of there. What was he even supposed to do? Just leave? Just grab Trent and book it? No, no, he couldn't do that with his fucked-up ankle. Finally, he turned to look at Trent. Aside from a tensed expression and a slightly more pale than usual complexion, he was keeping his cool.
Before he could finish his thoughts, Victor turned back to look at them. Really look at them. Time held its breath, as his eyes widened; lips parted slightly. Recognition. It had to be. He certainly recognized Trent. Shit. Shit. What would he do? Would he admit out loud that he recognized him?
He smiled. Oh, God, he fucking smiled.
"Oh, where're my manners? Hi, I'm Victor," He reached out to shake hands with Trent who, probably out of pure polite obligation, reached out as well. His hand trembled slightly. Suddenly, Victor whipped his hand back, claiming that his glove was wet.
And just like that, without any dramatic build-up or swagger, he removed the conspicuous glove, allowing both Kenny and Trent to see the black rose. It snaked its way from the back of his hand to around his wrist and under his sleeve. There it was. The evidence.
Victor's sadistic smile remained plastered on his face. Trent recognized him too, and he knew it. There was no way to rationalize his way out of this. This was the guard. He shook Trent's hand like it was all some little game, like psychological warfare was the most hilarious thing ever.
However, Trent was surprisingly good at pretending Victor's presence didn't bother him. Now that Kenny thought about it, it really shouldn't have come as such a surprise. After all, he had personally seen Trent seesaw between big displays of anger and a complete poker face. He could be an actor if he wanted to. Still, his hand continued trembling.
Victor's smile widened, "And you are?" That sadist was enjoying this far too much.
Abruptly, and with frankly excessive force, the restroom door slammed open, and someone gracelessly stumbled inside. He took some fumbling steps forward, almost fell, and then took some more steps. He did that thing where you feel like you're falling, so you kind of run a few steps. Yeah, it was strange. He seemed almost drunk.
Cartman.
Victor must have beaten him badly to reduce him to this. He sloppily enhanced on them, stumbling all the way and loudly mumbling. Surely, he must have seemed perfectly articulate to himself, but clearly, no one else could understand a word he spoke.
Victor's smile immediately fell when Cartman grabbed onto him and used him as a crutch to stay standing. And without the slightest warning, he puked on the floor, right between him and Trent. Impressively, no one was hit in the vomit waterfall.
Stan and Kyle soon entered as well. They too made a deal out of escalating the scene, until eventually the whole room was reduced to Victor looking extremely displeased, Trent seeming like he was growing roots in the floor, Kenny observing with stupid inaction, and Stan, Kyle, and Cartman yelling random gibberish. Now, Kenny could only assume Cartman had told Stan and Kyle about Victor, but he could not for the life of him figure out how yelling gibberish was supposed to fix this situation.
"What the fuck is going on?!" A new voice boomed through the room. An impressive feat, considering it managed to make Cartman of all people shut up. Kenny looked to see who it was and felt his stomach drop. Rick was standing in the doorway, looking mostly confused but also slightly angry (probably still seething from having to apologize to Kenny earlier).
"See, I told you he was in there," Craig's voice said behind Rick. "Victor, your next match is up. Stop harassing teens, creep."
Honestly, who in their right mind didn't love Craig? He really had awesome timing. And then he also insulted Victor? Perfection.
Kenny used to think Craig was just unusually hard on Victor, but it turns out Craig was really just 3 steps ahead.
And just like that, with a few scathing insults thrown at Cartman for almost puking on him— which stank by the way; Kenny forgot to mention, but the bathroom reeked even worse now than before — Victor left. Naturally, he could be seen giving Trent the hardest death glare ever, and then turning it to Rick and giving him the same death glare. He was so going to retaliate.
Why he would retaliate against Trent and Rick when Cartman was the one who ruined his fun was beyond Kenny. He was just glad he had left.
The door swung shut with a resounding slam that bounced off the walls, leaving behind 5 people, each in a different state of disrepair. What followed was a heavy silence, only broken by the sound of Cartman's post-vomit heavy breathing and the occasional sound of water dripping from some faucet.
Cartman was barely standing at this point, Stan looked ready to cry, and Kyle was fidgeting with the bandages on his arm, trying to avoid eye contact. But Trent looked the worst of them all. His blood was visibly boiling as his eyes kept darting from face to face.
Kenny didn't realize his hand was on Trent's arm until Trent pulled it away as if he got burned by it. His furious eyes landed on Kenny's own.
"You knew," He almost whispered, his voice guttural with rage. "You all knew."
The accusation hung in the air, thick with betrayal. Trent wasn't dumb. He knew they had kept him in here for a reason. He knew that Cartman wouldn't just punch him for nothing. And now he had figured them out.
"I, I was going to tell you," Kenny stammered, feeling every shade of guilt as he watched Trent's face grow angrier and angrier.
"Fuck you," Trent mumbled curtly, walking toward the exit. Not making a scene or starting a fight or screaming match. Just leaving.
At least, it would have been without a scene had Eric not tried to stop him with a "Dude, don't fucking leave," He was almost intelligible, but at least now they could make out his words. "We still gotta… do the plan,"
"What plan?" Trent asked, stopping dead in his tracks. He both looked and sounded ready to kill him. Cartman was really pushing the limits. In hindsight, Kenny should've probably tried to keep the big guy from running his mouth.
"You know," Cartman slurred, "The plan with Craig,"
The air crackled with tension as Trent's eyes intensified on Cartman, who must have hit his head really hard to think that the plan, which had now become offensively banal, was in any way a priority. Kenny knew it, Kyle knew it, Stan knew it, Trent obviously knew it, but Cartman was tweaking a bit.
"Fuck Craig." Trent hissed, his hands balled into fists and his shoulder tense. "And fuck you guys. I don't fucking care anymore!"
He turned to leave again, but this time, Cartman grabbed his arm and physically held him back. "No! We're working on that fucking plan whether you like it or not." Okay, he was seriously stepping into some deep water here. What the fuck was he doing? "You can't seriously think that we wanted to waste a whole-ass week helping your pathetic ass."
Finally, Kenny got himself moving and gently grabbed Cartman's arm. "Hey, calm down," He said, trying to remain as soft as possible.
"No!" Cartman yelled at him, pushing him back so hard that he almost fell. He vaguely registered Trent stating not to push him. "We've been slaving away this whole week to make sure this asshole here didn't murder us, and now he just wants to back out!"
The tension only escalated with Cartman's, frankly sudden, outburst. Kenny chalked it up to him being emotional because of his evident head injury, but still, if anyone should be mad about this past week, it should be Kenny.
"All I wanted was for you assholes to leave me alone!" Trent retorted, raising his voice to match Cartman's, raw and furious. "I never asked to be in your bullshit scheme!"
Eh, that was maybe half-true, but Kenny let him have it. He wasn't the one to bring the plan up anyway.
"Oh fuck you, Trent," Cartman began. "I can't fucking believe you made us waste so much damn time forcing ourselves to be around you!"
"Oh, piss off, fatass! As if I'd want to be around you!" Trent retorted, ripping his arm out of Cartman's grip. "You're all so fucking pathetic! You should be fucking grateful I even entertained your stupid plan!"
"Hey, how come you have no other friends, huh?" Ouch, that insult was pretty harsh. But Cartman only continued. "No, parents who want to be around you? It's 'cus you fucking suck! You're a bitch, who needs your sister to pay for all your shit! And a bitch for pretending to be all tough when you can't even say no to old ladie-"
Cartman's tirade was cut off by Trent punching him right in the nose, inviting a burst of blood to splatter out accompanied by a sickening crunch. Cartman stumbled back, falling on his ass as his hands covered his nose. Tears sprung into his eyes and he groaned in pain. A broken nose.
Kenny turned back to Trent, fully intending to apologize and make amends. But he was gone.