South Park Fan Fiction ❯ Hostage ❯ The White Dove ( Chapter 2 )

I wanted to say thank you for the reviews to Anonymous Void, Sarah, and Vampire Toy. Thank you! Also sorry, but this chapter is a little short.

 

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Chapter #2: The White Dove

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Christophe raced home on his motorcycle, breaking every known traffic law except for maybe the one about having too many people in one car. Getting to his apartment building, he raced inside and pressed the elevator button, waiting impatiently for a second or two before deciding that it was taking too long and racing for the side door and up the stairs. Three floors later, he got to his door and stopped dead. The door was wide open and some strange man dressed all in black was holding Kyle hostage in the middle of it.

“Now I'm going to move back slowly,” Christophe heard the man say, “And I don't want any funny business, do you hear me? You try anything and she dies.”

“Kyle!” Sheila shrieked, looking frightened for her son, but thankfully staying where she was.

“You're not even anywhere near her,” Kyle said then grunted in pain when the man's grip apparently tightened on him threateningly.

“Shut up.”

“Kyle!” Sheila shrieked again. “You let him go!” she screamed at the man.

The man ignored her.

Slowly, Christophe moved forward, planning on making his move quickly and silently. The faint sound of movement was his only warning before something came down on his head. Ducking out of the way at the last moment, Christophe whirled to face the new arrival, another man dressed all in black, ski mask over his head.

The man in the door, obviously hearing the motion behind him, turned sideways in the door to face both Christophe and Sheila, careful not to show anyone his back.

“Christophe!” Kyle exclaimed, sounding relieved. Then he grunted again as the grip around him tightened once more in warning.

Keeping both men in black in his sight, Christophe didn't respond, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men, watching carefully for any sudden movements.

“So you've finally managed to join us,” the first man said and Christophe could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Give `im back before I `urt you,” Chritophe said lowly, his eyes narrowing at the man.

The man chuckled. “Oh I don't think so. You're not exactly in the position to issue any threats, Mr. Mole.”

“You let my son go right now, young man, or I'm calling the police!”

Both men ignored the frightened woman.

“I said give `im back,” Christophe repeated, some anger seeping into his voice.

“That's it! I'm calling the police!” Sheila ran to the phone, just lifting up the hand piece to her ear when a knife flew through the room to stick right in the phone's base. Sheila screamed and jumped back, dropping the phone on the ground. Looking over she saw that it had been the second man in black who had thrown the knife, his hand still in the final position of the throw. “You watch where you're throwing those things!” she shrieked. “You could've hurt someone!”

“I don't think I will,” the first man in black said, ignoring the byplay. He looked down at his hostage, lifting one hand to trail a finger along Kyle's jaw. “I've take a liking to Mr. Broflovski here and I think I might just take him home with me.” He looked back up at Christophe and smiled. “You know. Like a pet.”

Christophe growled. He couldn't fight the man while he was holding Kyle so close, but he couldn't let Kyle just be taken either. He wished he'd gotten here sooner. “What do you want?”

“I don't want anything,” the man said, “But my employers—they want your expertise.”

Not having anything else he could do, Christophe's eyes narrowed further. “An' if I said I would `elp?”

“Then I'm afraid we would still take your little boyfriend here hostage for safe-keeping, but you'd have a much better chance of getting him back alive.”

Hearing that, Christophe's jaw clenched in anger. There wasn't much he could do then, was there? He needed Kyle to be alive if he was going to save him. Stepping back, Christophe stood up straight and regarded the man in black seriously. “Zen tell your employers zat I accept.”

“Wonderful.” The man's evil smile apparent in his voice. “Expect to hear from them by tomorrow.” That said, he nodded at the second man, jerking his head to the right, and the two of them left unhindered.

“You - you - ” Sheila turned on Christophe, sputtering in rage, “you just let them go!” Sheila shrieked, regaining her voice. “They took my bubee and you just let them go!”

Christophe turned to her with a serious frown. “Did I `ave a choice?” He didn't like the fact that they had Kyle either, but what else could he have done? If he hadn't agreed they would have just taken Kyle anyway and had him killed.

“Of course you had a choice!” Sheila shouted, “Why didn't you fight them?! That's what you're good for, isn't it?!”

“If I `ad fought zem Kyle would `ave been `urt,” Christophe told her.

Sheila didn't have anything she could say to that—it was true and she didn't want anything to happen to her baby—so she changed the subject. “Then are you going to get him back?!” she shouted.

“Of course,” Christophe said absently, already half ignoring her as he walked over to where he had set up his laptop, opening it up and turning it on.
”Then what are you still doing here?!” Sheila screamed, “Go get him!” she ordered, pointing in the direction the men had gone.

Christophe barely spared her a look, merely raising a brow at her hysterics and quickly turning back to his work. The computer had finished turning on and he was busy putting in his passwords, working his way past his computer's security. He needed to do a little more research into this company he was getting involved in before doing anything else. Today had shown him what a lack of in-depth research resulted in.

“I said go get him!” Sheila shrieked, pointing once more, more urgently this time, in the direction the men had gone.

“Mrs. Broflovski,” Christophe said, not turning away from his computer, “Zere is nothing you can do `ere. I suggest you go `ome.”

“I'm not leaving here without Kyle!”

Now Christophe turned to her seriously. “I will do everzing I can to bring `im back. But I cannot zink wit' you screaming at me. You need to calm down an' go `ome.”

“Oh no, I'm not calming down! Not for you! This is all your fault! If you weren't such an adrenaline junkie my Kyle wouldn't be in the hands of those men right now! Lord knows what they're doing with him!” Sheila obviously got lost in the thoughts of what could be happening to her son right now and her eyes widened, hands clasped over her breast. “Oh my poor bubee!”

Meanwhile, Christophe had rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer. He'd gotten past his security and had started pulling up files on the organization that had just kidnapped Kyle.

Sheila snapped out of her visions. “You need to go get him before they do something horrible!”

Christophe frowned at his findings. Nothing here suggested they were anything other than a charity organization. No matter how deep he went. He guessed there was no more putting it off. He needed to contact Gregory. He just didn't have the expertise for the information he needed.

“Are you listening to me?!” Sheila shrieked in the background.

The phone was pretty much dead, the knife still stuck in it, but he wouldn't have used that anyway. He had made sure it was secure, but it wasn't secure enough. He got out his cell phone.

“Christophe! You listen to me, young man! Right now!”

Gregory answered on the second ring. “What do you need?” he asked, getting right to business.

“Everything you have on the organization the White Dove,” Christophe answered, still browsing through the files he had open on his computer with one hand.

“The White Dove,” Gregory repeated and then there was silence as Gregory went to work on his computer. Finally after a long few moments, he said, “Ah. Here it is. The White Dove, named as a charity organization, is actually the cover organization for the Alexander Company.”

“Weapons dealer?” Christophe asked.

“Most likely some drugs on the side,” Gregory replied. “I'm sending you their information.”

“Good,” Christophe said and then hung up, sticking his cell phone back in one of his many pockets. Opening up his e-mail, he found the information and opened up the file. He read it quickly and his frown deepened with each deed listed. The Alexander Company was apparently rather powerful, but very tiny and very secretive, having ties to even the President and other important figures in politics. They were the ones behind the ones behind those in government positions. Why hadn't he known this? It was his business to know these kinds of things.

“Christophe!” All other calls falling on obviously deaf ears, Sheila had resorted to just screaming his name repeatedly, hoping he would answer to at least one.

Having heard her each time, Christophe grit his teeth in frustration and tried to continue with his reading. He needed to stay patient with the woman. He may not like her very much, but she was Kyle's mother and so she needed to be treated with some respect.

“Christophe!”

The Alexander Company's main base was apparently located somewhere in Peru, but the more specific location was unknown. Great. That meant he would have to wait until they contacted him and gave him their whereabouts before he could rescue Kyle. He would need to make plans.

“Christophe!”

The head of their organization's name was Timothy Alexander, a man who had taken a small collection of his family out of the rural outskirts of Kentucky and started his own organization from the ground up.

“Christophe!”

They hadn't been taken seriously at first as they were seen as nothing but crazy country bumpkins with dreams of power, but then they had had the daughter of a powerful organization in China assassinated.

“Christophe!”

The Chinese organization hadn't been pleased with this and the two organizations had been at war ever since. The most recent attack was when the Chinese had interrupted a weapons deal in New York, kidnapping various Alexander Company members and taking a good deal of the merchandise. Was that what they wanted returned?

“Christophe!”

They could want a new weapon of mass destruction. America didn't need any more of those. They had quite enough as it was. And he didn't want to even think of someone in South America getting a hold of one. They had enough trouble with Asia and Eastern Europe without adding a third threat and—

“Christophe!

He couldn't take it anymore. Turning on the woman suddenly, Christophe said in a tightly controlled voice, “Yes, Mrs. Broflovski. Can I `elp you wit' somezing?”

“I want you to go get my son!” she screamed. Wasn't her voice getting tired yet? She'd been screaming for a while now.

“I'm afraid zat I cannot do anyzing until zey contact me. So why don't you go `ome now and I'll will bring `im back?” While he was talking he had grabbed her arm and started leading her toward the door.

“I don't trust you,” Sheila said, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously and finally not screaming for once. “You're the one who got him into this mess.”

They'd gotten to the door and he led her out. “An' I will get `im out,” he told her calmingly. “Don't worry. Zis is what I do.” Then he stepped back into the apartment and closed the door in her face. The look on her face as she realized what he was doing was almost comical.

“Christophe!” he heard her shout through the door as she pounded on it with her fists. “You slimy little French bastard! Let me in! You can't keep me out here!”

Christophe sighed. Hopefully she would get tired and go away soon. He still had some research to do. Some plans to make. Locations to guess at. Calculations to calculate. And that man had said they would be in touch with him within a day.

He hated it but he would just have to wait.

 

 

Kyle didn't go with the man in black silently. He squirmed. He wriggled. He bit. But the man didn't let go.

Still he continued to try and free himself.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” Kyle screamed, trying to kick back at the man's knees or wherever he could reach with his foot. They had gotten outside, coming out behind the apartment building and apparently headed for the van that was parked a few feet away.

“Will you be quiet?” the man hissed, hurriedly slapping a hand over his mouth for the third time. Just like all the other times he had tried this, Kyle was quick to bite down on the hand and it quickly withdrew.

“Ow!” the man whined, shaking his hand.

Kyle went back to trying to kick the man, wriggling desperately in his arms as he cussed.

“You're a fucking asshole, you fucking bastard! Fuck!”

“Just knock him out!” the second man said, clearly irritated.

“I tried!” the man holding him said, “I can't let him go long enough to raise a hand. Why didn't we bring the chloroform?”

“The boss said it was too expensive,” the second man explained.

“The boss is a cheap bastard.”

“Let. Me. Go!” Kyle said, jerking this way and that, trying to get out of the man's strong hold. “Bastard!”

“Shh!” the second man said quickly, looking up and down the alley they were in “Don't say that where the boss could hear.” They finally got to the van and the second man opened the back doors. “Just throw him in here.”

The man holding him seemed to hesitate and Kyle tried to use this to his advantage by thrashing wildly in his grip. The man just shook him roughly and, blinking through the sudden daze, Kyle had to settle down for a moment. His head hurt. “Do we have anything to tie him up with?” the man asked.

“Um,” the second man said, looking through the back of the van and its complete lack of stuff. “Maybe there's something in the front.” He went to look, but came back shaking his head. “Nothing. Look. Just knock him unconscious. He's not struggling now.”

Hearing that, Kyle got over his momentary daze and started to struggle again, but the man just shook him roughly one more time, now knowing that that would keep him mostly calm.

“You hit him,” the man holding him said, holding the dazed Kyle out. “I have to let him go to hit him and I don't want to lose him.”

The second man sighed, but approached nevertheless and held up a hand.

“Shit!” Kyle cussed, coming back to himself and starting to struggle again.

“Umph!” the man holding him said when one of Kyle's elbows got him in the gut, but he still didn't let go. “Hurry!”

The last thing Kyle saw was a pair of clasped hands coming down on him and then black.

He woke up tied to a chair, sitting in a rather large and empty room.

Where was he?

Shaking his head, Kyle tried to blink past the pain to see straight again. His head eventually clearing, he turned in his seat and tried to examine his binds. Rope was wrapped around him from waist to chest, holding his arms to his sides, and it was tied tightly behind his chair out of his reach. Squirming in his seat, he tried to see if he could loosen them a bit or get free. But the ropes around him were too tight. Dammit.

Stopping his wriggling, Kyle sighed and settled for just looking around the room. The barest amount of light came through the covered windows, illuminating the stone floor, the bare walls, and the complete lack of anything in the room. It was barren.

That discovered, Kyle had a long and boring wait until finally he heard footsteps coming closer. The lights turned on and Kyle winced at the sudden light. Gradually his sight began to adjust and the man in front of him could be seen.

Kyle blinked at the sight.

“Why, hello, Mr. Broflovski.”