South Park Fan Fiction ❯ Hostage ❯ Negotiations ( Chapter 6 )

-

Chapter #6: Negotiations

-

Sadly, Kyle's plan didn't work. The groove on the top of the screw proved to be too shallow for the dime to successfully turn the screw. He tried using his nails next, but that too proved fruitless.

So Kyle sat back on the ground and pulled in a knee to touch his chest, resting his head on it with a sigh. Now what did he do? Maybe he could wait for them to feed him again and escape then? Well maybe if the person bringing his food wasn't one of those gigantic guard thugs he'd been seeing. Or else he could swallow his pride and just wait for Christophe to come get him.

Thinking this, Kyle's face twisted up in irritation. No! He refused to play the damsel in distress. He was a guy and he was perfectly capable of escaping on his own. He just needed a better plan.

Kyle frowned at his shoes. Of course, coming up with a better plan was proving to be a little difficult. Maybe he just needed more time to think.

But hours later, now seated on the cot after the floor had gotten too cold and uncomfortable, Kyle was still without a plan. They had brought him lunch, or at least what passed for lunch, but the person bringing the meal had been this huge block of muscle. There had been no way that Kyle, as skinny and short as he was, could manage to knock him out. Christophe had taught him some self-defense moves and some neat tricks to knock a person unconscious with one finger, but Kyle would need to be able to reach the pressure point in order for that to work and he had still been at least two heads shorter than the guy, never mind trying to actually get close enough without being beaten.

So he had gone back to trying to think up a plan and nothing was coming to mind. He was about ready to tear his hair out in frustration and boredom. There wasn't much to do or look at in the small and barren room.

Angrily collapsing back on the cot, Kyle stared at the ceiling with a scowl. This was pathetic! Wasn't he supposed to be the smart one in the group? He should be able to think something up, but the best he could come up with was pretending to have changed his mind about telling them `the Mole's' address and escaping that way. Of course, he was almost positive that they wouldn't let him go free until they were sure he was telling the truth and so that plan was out the window.

Argh!

 

 

It was hours later when the door opened again, this time allowing Theodore into the room. He was without his usual guards, but he was still looking extremely self-confidant in spite of this fact.

“And how have you been doing, Mr. Broflovski?” he asked with an annoying smirk.

Sitting up on the cot, Kyle scowled at him. “How do you think?”

“Wonderful,” Theodore said with a growing smile, obviously ignoring his actual words. “Then I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that your little boyfriend is on his way with our package as we speak.”

“Yay,” Kyle muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

Seeming amused by this, Theodore raised a brow. “I had somehow imagined you would be more pleased by this information.”

“At least it'll get me away from you,” Kyle muttered to himself, annoyed and trying to see the positive.

This seemed to make Theodore angry. “You should be pleased that I come speak to you at all!”

Kyle glared at the man. “What could possibly make me glad to see you?”

Theodore narrowed his eyes. “Then I suppose you don't want to be there when your dear Christian comes to collect.”

Not really caring, Kyle shrugged. “Doesn't really matter. I'm getting outta here either way.”

His indifference only seemed to make Theodore even angrier. “Not if I don't allow it!”

Kyle's eyes snapped up to meet Theodore's angry face. “What?!”

Theodore laughed. “Ha! Now you see my power!”

“Dude,” Kyle said in exasperation, unable to believe this guy. Was he seriously getting a power trip from this? “Listen to yourself. You're getting your jollies by taunting a kid. You have to be at least twice my age. Don't you have other stuff to do? Like, maybe, running this whole mafia gig?”

Theodore sniffed indignantly and swept his hair back. “I let my lesser brothers deal with the dirty work.”

“And what's taunting me? Isn't that “dirty work”?”

“Yes, I think I've changed my mind,” Theodore said, ignoring his last question. “I don't think we will be handing you over quite yet.” Here, he smiled at Kyle. “After all, we still need you to give us that address.”

“Dude, I'm not gonna tell you guys my address. I happen to like living there and I don't really wanna have to move.”

“Ah! So we should be looking under your name, should we?” Theodore asked brightly. “Thank you. You have been quite helpful.” And then he turned and quickly left the room.

Kyle paused, realizing too late what had just happened. “Dammit!”

 

 

Christophe walked into the large compound, two thugs at his sides, supposedly escorting him to the meeting place. He eyed them speculatively and frowned at the apparent insult to his skills. He could take them. Easy.

“Ah, Christian. So good of you to join us,” spoke the business man with an oily smile, stepping into the light as Christophe walked into the large and dim room. He and the scruffy man from their first meeting were on the opposite side of the room, the scruffy man still standing in the shadows, the huge forms of their guard-thugs at their sides.

Christophe looked at him in some confusion. Why were they calling him Christian?

Taking his confusion for something else, the man looked pleased. “Yes, we know your name. Your little boyfriend was quite willing to tell us all we needed to know. We just needed to give him the right . . . well, I suppose you could call it persuasion.”

This made Christophe really come to attention, not really caring about the name anymore. “What did you do to him?”

The man tried to look innocent. “Nothing. Nothing,” he said, waving a hand, “We just had some of our boys here have a little . . . “talk” with him.”

Christophe turned to look at the guards that had escorted him into the room again and then at the other thugs hanging along the walls. They were huge. Dwarfing even Christophe and with muscles on their muscles. He had no doubt that he could take them easily, but Kyle . . . ? And if he had been tied up then he'd really had no chance.

Christophe scowled dangerously. Oh, he would enjoy tearing this company apart.

“I have your package,” he said angrily, pulling out the small box and holding it up. “Now where's Kyle?” He wasn't anywhere in the room, that was obvious.

“Give us the package and we'll show you to him,” the scruffy man dressed all in black said, stepping into the light of the room and holding out a hand as though Christophe would actually give it to him.

“No. You give me Kyle and I give you the package.”

“I'm afraid we can't exactly— the business man started and at that moment another form entered the room, walking quickly up to the business man to whisper something in his ear.

“Ah. My mistake,” the business man said with another smile, “Please. Wait here and we'll get the boy for you.” He turned to the person that had just entered the room, another man that looked eerily similar to the two other men and was wearing a smart business suit, and said something in a quiet voice that Christophe couldn't hear.

Christophe scowled distrustfully at them, not quite trusting that they were actually going to give Kyle back to him.

But then the newly arrived man left and, a few minutes later, returned with Kyle, who looked annoyed but none the worse for wear. They held him on the other side of the room, out of reach until Christophe grudgingly gave them the package and then grabbed Kyle from the thug holding him to drag him back to his side of the room and pat him down for injuries.

“Christian!” Kyle whispered furiously. “Christian, stop that!

Pausing his search in confusion, Christophe leaned in close to ask quietly, “Why are you calling me Christian?”

Kyle glared at him and whispered back angrily, “Because that's what they think your name is! Now will you stop patting me already?!”

Christophe frowned and looked down at Kyle's uninjured body. “Zey said zey tortured you.”

Kyle sighed, annoyed. “All they did was annoy me and then bore me with some long-winded pointless speeches about how powerful they were.”

“Right.” Christophe turned to glare at the men again.

“Now if you're quite sure that he's alright we'll have some men take you back to the front. And . . .” the business man paused to smile, “we thank you with all our hearts for doing business with us.”

In his arms, Kyle snorted and Christophe looked down at him questioningly.

Kyle waved him off. “Nothing. Let's just go.”

The business man gestured for two of the thugs by the wall to accompany them and they were out the door in minutes.

“You're sure zey didn't hurt you?” Christophe asked Kyle, looking down at the smaller boy again, but really paying attention to the two large thugs by their side.

“Yes,” Kyle said, annoyed, “I'm sure. I— Kyle stopped as Christophe caught his eye and jerked his head to the right. Catching on, Kyle continued. “Well they didn't feed me, really. And this one guy kept coming in to taunt me. He was really annoying.” Christophe nodded his head sympathetically, acting like the caring boyfriend. “And they almost didn't let me go,” Kyle continued. “They wanted me to stay in order to tell them our address.” Kyle paused. “Actually, remind me to tell you about that later.”

“Right,” Christophe said and then suddenly swung out his leg, sweeping the guard to his left off his feet. The man fell down with a loud thud and a grunt and Christophe turned easily to grab the gun out of the other guard's hands and kick him in the face. This second thug went down and Christophe kneed him in the face, breaking his nose, and then pounded his head against the concrete floor, knocking him out. By this time the second thug had gotten to his feet and taken out his gun and Christophe turned with a roundhouse kick, knocking the gun flying, and then punched the guy in the face. This not having much of an effect, the second thug tried to grab Christophe, but Christophe easily ducked out of the way, getting behind the guy and kicking him into the wall. Holding him there by with a hand, Christophe twisted his arm until it was at an extremely painful angle, almost to the breaking point, and shoved the first guard's gun into his back. “Where do zey keep ze weapons?”

“I - I don't know,” the guy stammered and Christophe twisted his arm again. “Ah! I mean. It's down that corridor. You take a left and then a right and it should be in the huge storehouse.”

“Zank you,” Christophe said and then took the gun away from the guy's back and brought it down on the guy's head, knocking him unconscious. “Zat should give us a head start. Are you . . .” Christophe paused, actually looking at Kyle. “Actually maybe you should go. Leave zis t' me.”

Kyle glared at him, not moving an inch. “I've already got his gun,” he said lifting the said weapon of the second guard that he had quickly retrieved after it had gone flying. “I'm coming with.”

“Kyle . . . You don't . . .”

“I'm coming with,” Kyle repeated as slowly and as calmly as he could, appreciating that Christophe wanted to keep him safe, but not needing it. He wanted to get his own revenge on these bastards anyway. “What are we doing?”

Christophe looked at him for another moment then said, “We need t' get zat box back. Eet contains a weapon of mass destruction.”

Kyle nodded. “Right. Then let's go.”

 

 

They went down that corridor then went left and then right and there was the weapons storehouse just like the thug had said. Quickly ducking inside they went to work on finding that little box.

An hour later they were still looking.

“It's not here!” Kyle said, coming up behind Christophe, gun still clutched tightly in his hand.

“Eet `as t' be `ere,” Christophe muttered, looking through an open crate of hand guns, high up on a pile of crates. Kyle had to speak loudly if he wanted to be heard and he didn't want to risk doing that too much.

“Christophe those guys should be waking up soon,” Kyle said, starting to get worried. He hadn't thought this would take that long. “We need to leave.”

“We `ave t' get that box,” Christophe said, turning to look down at him. “Or do you want anozer country t' `ave an atomic bomb just waiting to kill you Americans?”

“Look,” Kyle said irritably. “Maybe they just haven't brought it in here yet. Maybe they still have it with them.”

Christophe scowled. “An' wot would you `ave us do? Wander around lost just `oping we come across it?”

Kyle scowled up at him in return. “Well I don't see you coming up with a better plan.”

Which was true. “Fine,” Christophe snapped, shutting the crate and hoping down to the ground. “We wander.”

 

 

“What do you mean they're gone?!” the business man shouted at the two thugs groveling at his feet. “Go find them!” The two thugs immediately hopped to, jumping up and nearly tripping over each other in their haste to leave the room.

The businessman turned to the rest of the thugs in the room to say, “I want those two found yesterday, people! They cannot be left to wander this facility alone. Go!” he shouted and the other thugs quickly left the room, pushing and shoving each other in their haste to reach the door.

The majority of the people in the room now gone, the business man made a frustrated sound and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm surrounded by morons.”

“Now Tom, you know this isn't my fault.”

“Oh shut up, Theodore! I'm trying to think. What could they possibly want?”

The scruffy man and Theodore shrugged. They didn't have a clue.

“Have you checked the weapons room?” the now named business man asked.

“I'll send some guys over there now,” Theodore replied, getting out his cell phone and going off in a corner to call someone, presumably the head of the guards.

Tom sucked in a deep breath and released it through clenched teeth. This was just what he needed right before Father was going to retire. This wouldn't look good. And he's been so close to being named the successor. Now his idiot brother Theodore would be the one in charge. They'd be run into the ground before next June.

“You need to calm down,” the scruffy man said gruffly.

“This isn't going to go away, Trevor,” Tom said, “Now that they've gotten into the base who knows what they can do. Why, oh why, was Father too cheap to invest in quality, highly trained, guards?”

Trevor shrugged. “You know Father. He does what he wants.”

“Right.” Tom took another deep breath, preparing himself. “Well I'm going to go tell him the news.”

Trevor raised a brow. “Good luck.”

“Yes. I'll need it.”

 

 

Sneaking around wasn't nearly as hard as Christophe had imagined it would be. Their security was laughable. Everyone was running around like a chicken with his head chopped off looking for him and Kyle and they'd been so rushed that nobody had thought to look in plain sight. Dress the part and act like you know what you're doing and nobody questioned you. They'd found a huge storehouse of clothing, exactly like what everyone else in the compound was wearing.

“These pants are too big,” Kyle hissed back at him, trying to hold them up as they stopped at the next corner and Christophe poked his head around the corner to check if it was clear.

“I cannot `elp you zere. You'll just `ave t' make do,” he replied, not really paying attention, more concerned with keeping them safe. “Now `urry,” he said, ushering Kyle forward.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyle grumbled, walking ahead. “You know this is a lot more boring then I thought it would be.”

“Quiet,” Christophe hissed, stopping in the middle of the hall and listening carefully. Whatever he had heard it wasn't good. “Quick. In `ere.” The two of them hurried down the next hallway and into the nearest office.

Seeing where they were though, Kyle stopped. It was a rather nice office, very classy and sophisticated compared to all the other rooms they had been in. On the desk were piles of paper and, perched precariously on top of this, was a box with a huge `Property of the Alexander Company' sticker stuck on the top.

“Christophe!” Kyle hissed, trying to get his boyfriend's attention. Christophe was still at the door, peeking out the small space between the door and the doorframe into the corridor. “Christophe!” Kyle said again, when Christophe didn't answer.

“Wot?” Christophe snapped, not turning away from the door. “Can't you see I'm busy?”

“Christophe,” Kyle said yet again, walking closer to the desk to grab the box and bring it over to the other boy. “Is this it?”

“Wot?” Christophe asked irritably, finally turning around. Looking down, he saw what was in Kyle's hands and grabbed it. “Eet is!” he exclaimed, holding it up.

“Hey!” Kyle exclaimed, feeling a little annoyed. He'd been the one to find it, after all.

“Good,” Christophe said, ignoring him. “Zen we can leave.”

“Don't you wanna see what's in it?” Kyle asked, looking at the box in Christophe's hands curiously.

“Eet's a weapon,” Christophe replied. “You've seen one, you've seen zem all.”

“Well I wanna see,” Kyle said and grabbed the box out of Christophe's hands, turning so that his back was to his boyfriend.

“'ey! Give zat back!” Christophe cried, trying to reach around Kyle and grab it from him.

Kyle easily ducked and dodged his hand, keeping the box out of reach. There was no seal or lock so it was easy to open, but when Kyle did his mouth dropped open in shock. “Oh my God,” he breathed.