South Park Fan Fiction ❯ Hostage ❯ A Day Spent Apart ( Chapter 3 )

I wanted to thank Anonymous Void again for reviewing and DiamondxPink618. Also I've never gone sky-diving and I don't know anything about Chinese geography so I'm making up anything that has to do with those two things. And, sorry, but this is really just a transitional chapter, so sorry if it's a little boring.

 

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Chapter #3: A Day Spent Apart

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“So glad you could meet us here,” the man continued as though Kyle had willingly walked through the door and was not currently tied to a chair, blinking at him in confusion.

Kyle blinked again. Was he seeing this right? In front of him stood the man, dressed in khaki shorts and a godawful Hawaiian t-shirt, parrots doing obscene things among the leaves. He wore orange flip-flops and sunglasses too big for his head to complete the look and, standing in front of a number of what were clearly mafia thugs, he just generally looked like a random tourist that had wandered into the building by mistake. All he needed was the straw hat and camera and the outfit would have been complete.

“I see you've noticed my clothes,” the man said calmly, gesturing at his outfit. “I'm afraid you've taken me away from my vacation quite suddenly. I was just recently informed that we were to have a visitor and did not have the time to prepare.”

Right. Sure. Getting over the shock of finding that he had been essentially kidnapped by a tourist, Kyle's eyes narrowed as he remembered that he was still a captive, taken from his home for Lord knows what reason. “What do you want?”

The man smiled slightly as though amused as he came closer. “Now why would you think we want anything? Maybe we simply wanted to talk.”

“Bullshit,” Kyle said, glaring up at the man who was now close enough to touch.

The man frowned. “Language,” he said warningly.

Kyle was clearly unrepentant, still glaring up at the man.

The man ignored him, going back to smiling. “But where are my manners? Here we are talking like old friends and I still haven't introduced myself.” He put a hand to his chest and bowed mockingly, sunglasses nearly slipping off his face. “My name is Theodore. I'm sure you've heard of me.” Straightening, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Actually . . . no,” Kyle said bluntly, eying the man with distaste. “Am I supposed to?”

The man, Theodore, seemed to blink at him from behind his sunglasses. “What? Never?”

Kyle shook his head

“Theodore,” the man said as though hoping to jog his memory. “Theodore Alexander.” Kyle still didn't look like he knew him so he continued, “The Man of Many Guns? The Prince of Powder?”

Looking irritated, Kyle shook his head again. “Dude, look. I've never heard of you. You can't be that important.”

The man started to look mad. “Not important?” he said angrily but at a normal level of voice. “Not important!” he shouted louder. “I'm very important,” he said, leaning over so that he could say this to Kyle's face. “I have more power than you could ever dream of having.”

Theodore's face a little too close to his, Kyle drew back and blinked at the man. “Um . . . okay?” he said, hoping to placate the obviously crazy man. “Good for you.”

Getting out of Kyle's face, Theodore straightened, but still looked angry. “Guards!” he shouted and two men of the men standing over by the wall came out of the shadows to stand at attention by his side. “I want you to watch him closely,” he ordered the two men, “Make sure he doesn't get free. He doesn't get any food or drink unless I specifically say he does.”

Both men nodded and Theodore turned back to Kyle to say angrily, “Maybe when I get back you will be a little more willing to listen to reason.”

Kyle blinked. He hadn't known he'd been being unreasonable.

Theodore turned and stomped out of the room, his flip-flops flip-flopping with every step and kind of ruining his dramatic image. If a person wearing those kinds of clothes could have a dramatic image. Most of the men that had followed him into the room followed him out except for the two men Theodore had specifically chosen to guard Kyle. Those two took opposite sides of the doorway and stood straight and silently at attention

Again, Kyle sighed. Looked like it going to be another long and boring wait before Theodore got over his tantrum and told Kyle what the hell was going on.

 

 

It seemed to take forever for Christophe to be contacted, the organization taking their sweet ass time to get in touch with him. Each second seemed like an hour, tortuous and long as he knew that somewhere out there Kyle was currently being held hostage by a group of rather vicious men.

Why couldn't the contact get there faster?

But finally his doorbell rang and, as he opened the door, he was left with a thin black folder containing all of the information he needed to retrieve the package that the Chinese had taken. He knew they would later trade him the package for Kyle, but he was already thinking up several plans to keep both the package and Kyle. He didn't want a weapon of mass destruction in the hands of these people and he knew that Kyle would never let them go home until the package had been given to someone trustworthy.

Sitting on the couch, he opened the folder and looked through its contents. A small slip of paper with the address of his destination, a map, and the directions for where he should go to make the trade when he was finished. He would need to make his own arrangements for how to get to China and back, but that was easy. Take out his cell phone and make a couple quick calls and he had somebody ready to pick him up in a private jet within the hour. It was good to have connections.

 

 

It had been what seemed to be hours since Theodore had left him in this room with only his two silent guards for company and Kyle was bored. He was also starting to feel hungry and he really needed to go to the bathroom. And with nothing else to take his attention away from these facts the bathroom situation was just getting more and more urgent.

“Hey!” he shouted at the guards. “I need to go to the bathroom! Let me up!”

They ignored him. They'd been ignoring him for the past fifteen minutes and nothing he said seemed to make any difference.

“I mean it! I really have to go to the bathroom! It's not gonna be me that'll have to clean the mess up if I don't go soon!”

They still ignored him.

“Hey! I'm talking to you! Listen to me, you bastards!”

But nothing was getting through to them. Just when Kyle was resigning himself to the fact that he would have to go where he sat, and then sit in it for the indeterminate amount of time he would be here, footsteps could be heard coming closer. Theodore appeared in the doorway, a number of thugs following him in. He was now dressed in a conservative black suit but the large sunglasses were still on his face. Apparently he liked them.

“I hear you've been having some trouble, Mr. Broflovski,” he said calmly, all traces of his previous anger gone.

“I need to go to the bathroom!” Kyle said.

“Are you ready to be reasonable?”

Kyle didn't know what he was talking about. “I was never being unreasonable! All I said was that I didn't know who you were.”

“And you were clearly lying,” Theodore said smoothly, “Everyone knows who I am.”

Kyle still didn't know who he was though. He'd honestly never heard of the guy. Why would he have? He'd lived in a small hick town in Colorado all his life and, while there may have been an unusual amount of celebrities to come through that town, they'd never really had problems with gangsters, which this guy clearly was. But he did need to go to the bathroom. “Alright. Alright,” Kyle said quickly, “I was lying. You caught me. I know who you are.”

“Good,” Theodore said, smiling and obviously pleased. “Then I suppose you can go to the bathroom if you need to so much.” He turned to the people who had followed him in and selected one at random. “You.” He pointed at the selected man. “Take him to the bathroom and be careful not to lose him.”

The guy nodded sharply and walked over to where Kyle sat, going behind him to untie him from his chair.

Theodore looked at him threateningly. Or at least tried to look threatening. With those sunglasses, Kyle wasn't in the least bit scared. “I expect that there won't be any difficulties. You will go and come back and nothing else.”

Just wanting to go already, Kyle stood up and nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Please, can we just go?”

Theodore nodded to the man that would guide Kyle to the bathroom and the guy grabbed Kyle by the arm roughly and started to drag him out the door.

They walked quickly, Kyle having to hurry to keep up, but that was okay as it would get him to the bathroom faster. He tried not to look too curious as they passed others in the hall, all walking quickly with a sense of purpose. He'd thought where he was held was just some abandoned building, maybe a warehouse, but obviously it was well in use.

He wondered what they were doing, trying to imagine what a gangster would do on an everyday basis. He knew about drug and weapons deals and about assassinations, but some of the people they passed were carrying paperwork and coffee just like at a regular office. What kind of paperwork would a gangster actually do? Maybe for corporate takeovers. Gangsters did that kind of thing nowadays, didn't they?

Finally they stopped in front of a door and the thug holding onto his arm pushed it open. Inside was a regular guy's bathroom, one like you would find at any restaurant. It had urinals and stalls and toilet paper on the ground, the whole place seeming dirty and smelling of piss. Kyle was pushed in the direction of a urinal and the thug stood back, his eyes not leaving Kyle's form.

Seeing this, Kyle blushed. “You're going to watch?”

The thug said nothing, just watching, and Kyle, the need to go to the bathroom stronger than ever now that he was within view of a urinal, hurried over to one of the stalls, hoping maybe he could piss without an audience in there.

The thug followed him and held the door open when Kyle tried to swing it shut. Apparently he was going to watch no matter where Kyle went.

The need to go overwhelming him, Kyle decided to just deal with it and get it over with. It wasn't so bad if he turned away.

Done, he was washing his hands, trying to think up a way to get away from the much larger and stronger thug. Now that he didn't have to worry about the bathroom he could focus on planning his escape.

 

 

“This is as far as I can go!” the pilot shouted back at Christophe, circling over the coast of Hong Kong. “I can't land!”

Christophe nodded. He'd been told this in advance and he focused on preparing to jump. Buckling the last buckle of his harness, parachute on his back, Christophe went to the door of the jet and, carefully holding on to make sure he wouldn't be sucked out, he opened it to look down on the coast of Hong Kong, double-checking to make sure there was nothing in his way. He'd need to land in the ocean, which would be tricky with a parachute as the weight of it would pull him down. So he would have to unbuckle himself once he got closer to freefall into the water.

“Ready?!” the pilot shouted back at him and Christophe, grabbing his bag of supplies, turned to give him the okay signal. The pilot turned the plane sharply and Christophe jumped.

The wind rushed by him as he fell through the air, feeling weightless. Carefully timing it, he finally pulled the release tab on his backpack and he snapped back as the parachute opened. Floating down a few couple hundred yards until he was a good twenty feet from the water, he quickly unbuckled himself from his harness, careful to keep his bag with him, and fell the rest of the way unhindered, dropping with a large splash into the water.

Swimming to the surface, he quickly started toward land, wanting to get out from underneath his parachute so that when it floated down he wasn't covered by it and drowned.

Finally he got to land, a small beach where he walked up onto shore, taking cover from the wooden dock. Shaking his head, water droplets went everywhere and he set his bag down in the sand, opening it to take out his change of clothes, kept dry by the waterproof fabric.

Quickly changing, he stuffed the rest of the stuff he would need from his bag into his many pockets, abandoning the bag to walk out onto the main beach and jog up the stairs to become a part of the crowded street, looking like just your everyday tourist and fully fading from sight.

 

 

Not being able to think up a way to get away from the large thug, Kyle was manhandled back into the room he came from, tied back to his chair, and left alone again to rot with only his two silent guards as company.

Kyle grumbled angry things under his breath, his stomach beginning to protest the lack of food. His mom had been right in that he hadn't eaten enough today and he mourned the loss of what could have been a good meal. He still didn't know what the hell was going on.

Thankfully he wasn't fully forgotten this time and a girl soon came to give him his meal. It was small and probably old, but he was hungry and so he scarfed it down rather quickly. That finished, the girl took his plate, cup, and spoon (they'd been careful not to give him anything sharp) and left Kyle to his boredom.

Eventually, it being a long day, Kyle started feeling tired. He tried to fight it, head snapping up every time he found himself drifting off, but eventually he could fight it no more and he fell asleep sitting up.

 

 

Christophe checked the small slip of paper in his hand just to make sure then looked up at the address. This was it.

Christophe went with the crowd and, disguising his efforts, slipped unnoticed into the alleyway beside the large warehouse housing his target. Being careful to stay unseen, Christophe eased his way down the alleyway and into the back of the building. Sneaking through the doors and behind several large crates, Christophe slipped silently from behind one crate to the other, making his way toward the voices at the center of the room.

“You idiots!” a man shouted in heavily accented English with the accompanying sound of someone being smacked and falling to the ground. “I specifically told you red! I wanted red boxes not brown! Red!”

“But - but boss! These hide better. Look! You can barely even notice them.”

“Do you think I care if they hide better?! Does this look like a man who cares?! No! Brown is ugly! You've made this room hideous!” The sound of another smack and another body hitting the floor. “You idiots have ruined the entire plan! Now what are we going to do with all these boxes?!”

“May - maybe we could paint them?” another voice spoke up timidly.

“And who's going to do that?! You?! I don't trust you to tie your own shoes without smacking yourself in the face and you think I'm going to let the entire fate of this organization rest on your painting abilities?!”

“But - but boss! Maybe . . . maybe they like brown,” yet another voice said.

“Moron! Nobody likes brown! Do you go buy your girls flowers and dresses and say, “Oh, I know, I'll get her brown”? No!”

Christophe had finally gotten to the edge of the lighted area and he peeked through the crates to see four men cowering before a fifth and rather short man, two of them actually on the ground protecting their heads.

These were the men he would have to steal from. Now if only he could figure out where they put the package. It would probably help out a lot if he knew what the package actually looked like, but what could he do? He would just have to deal.

 

 

TBC?