Depths of Gloom (Stan x Kenny)

9

With an ugly creak, and ear-piercing screech, they opened the bunker doors to stale, dusty air. The small area was shrouded in complete darkness, despite the sun beating on their backs in the midday.

"Why the hell is there a bunker in your backyard, Kenny?"

He ignored the question, walking down the few steps into the building. Craig was already waiting, legs propped up on the couple of kegs they managed to snag from the back of a truck a few weeks before. He seemed unimpressed with who was tagging along with Kenny.

"Really? You brought Cartman?" His face remained impassive, hitting a blunt in place of an emotion.

Closing the doors behind them, Kenny flicked on the one light directly above Craig. He didn't know why he hadn't bothered to turn it on. "'Cause, he can be our new fall guy if things go wrong."

"Hey! I didn't sign up for that bullshit!" The fatass protested immediately, finally pocketing his

phone from whatever mobile game he was addicted to now. "You guys are fucking retards for telling me that."

"Or, you're the retard for thinking that's the actual plan!" Kenny had absolutely no patience that day. After leaving Stan's a few nights before, he jumped into a self-destructive, downward spiral, skipping school to drink, and die in whatever new, horrible way he could think of. With the decision he made to stop sleeping too, he knew he was starting to care about himself less and less. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll tell everyone how you jerk off to hardcore gay porn. And, that weird dog-play shit. I'll also tell everyone how you really would like to-"

"I'll tell Stan you love him."

The room went cold. Kenny narrowed his eyes, and cracked his knuckles instinctively. "I suggest you don't say another word."

Bored with the situation, Craig put the blunt out in the ashtray. "Alright, bitches, chill out." Cartman finally sat on the random, sketchy chair in the corner of the space, as far away from Kenny as possible. "McCormick, is that why you wouldn't get Stan to do this? I would've preferred him to fatass, honestly."

Why are they both pushing me right now? It's like they know I haven't slept in days, and drank a pint of Jack before I got here. Good thing no ones been home.. Kenny muted the thoughts, wanting to get it over with, and crawl back to his wallowing. "I'm the connections, you're the brains, and Cartman is the muscle. I guess. Stan doesn't fit the dynamic."

He finally noticed his mood. For once, Craig frowned poignantly. "What's up your ass?"

The silence told them enough - don't ask.

"We've got three days to fix this entire fucky plan." Kenny referred to their map pinned on a cork board hung on the wall above the desk. There were red sharpie lines drawn up the Cheyenne mountain, and blue lines for the path back down. The rest of the plans were simply word of mouth. "We need a car now. Ideas?"

"I can take my mom's." Cartman offered with a grumble, still not happy with Kenny's aggression.

Cartman just seemed pissed he couldn't take him, but maybe that was just the liquor scratching the itch to fight. Ignore him. The less time they spent fighting, the more time he had to kill himself. Kenny hated what he'd slipped into.

Focus!

The rest of the plans were easy to work out, luckily.

They would go at dusk, hike up four miles to the mountain until they found a cabin with a red scarf tied around the mailbox. It was simple. The connection Kenny made after confronting one of Kevin's dealers wanted it that way. All they had to do was leave the bags in the bathtub, and make sure they weren't seen, or followed.