Elysian Fields (A Kyman Fanfiction)

Chapter 8: Skin

"You're dead!" The bachelor party yells as they, practically in unison, run out of the strip club after Cartman. I stand where the party broke up, the blue lights flickering and mind numbing pop blaring. It's all I can do to run after them, escaping the accusing eyes of the other dancers for taking away the only large table with my personal drama. I follow the breadcrumb trail of blood droplets the sandy blonde left as he hobbled out. Acura and Mercedes make noises in protest but I'm already halfway out the door.

The night envelopes me in a cold, white embrace and I realize it's snowing. I quickly look around, my thick red curls smacking my face hard, and catch a glimpse of one of the douchey party goers running into the alley of the club. I dash after them. My combat boots leave thick lined footprints behind me as I trudge through the snow as fast as I can.

"You fucking stabbed him!" I hear one yell, the snow swirling around us. There might be a storm coming.

"He attacked me, it was in self defense," Cartman says smartly as I walk up behind the party, attempting to remain unseen. Cartman's eyes barely acknowledge me. What he's saying isn't true, it's assault with a deadly weapon, I think. What possessed Cartman to pull out that knife? They have every right to be pissed, outside of their homophobia, but five on one is dangerous and I can't leave him by himself when this is partially my fault.

Cartman's nose is still bleeding profusely, dribbling down his lips, and he stubbornly still has the blade out. He wipes the flat sides on his jeans, removing the blood in two fine schlicks. The alley is filled with debris and overflowing garbage cans, and smells as good as expected. The bachelor party as a whole seems concerned for their friend, but it is the sandy blonde looking the most apt to violence, and the most angry.

"You stabbed me over your faggot girlfriend," he states, every word doused in the pain of bleeding from his stomach.

"You should get to a hospital," his friend says, trying to calm him back to reality. From behind I realize it is the bachelor Acura was sitting on.

"Shut up! This guy needs his as kicked, he's fucking crazy!" the sandy blonde points a finger at Cartman, who continues to smile in self satisfaction.

"Well again, you were the one who wanted a lapdance from a teenage boy, so maybe you're the one with issues to work out. You, too," Cartman teases, brandishing the knife effortlessly at the taller brunette that also expressed interest in me. "You were arguing with him over who gets Starr's sweet, taut, little ... star." He smiles wide, showing every one of his red stained teeth, and narrows his eyes, practically begging them to make the first move.

The other brunette turns red and kicks over the nearest dumpster, spilling it's flotsam innards all over the dark alley's snow. "Let's kick his ass!" He yells.

The sandy blonde runs forward again, attempting to grab Cartman's knife hand, but my protector pivots out of the way and kicks him in his already-bleeding abdomen. Two of the others use the distraction as a chance to swarm Cartman and get him from both sides, one pinning and yanking his arms, forcing him to drop the knife, and hoisting them behind him, and the other punching him repeatedly on his face, chest and abdomen.

I run down the alley, the wind and snow tearing through my lack of clothing and chilling me to the bone. I pick up the abandoned switchblade from the recesses of the snow and point it at the closest larger guys.

"Let him go!" I yell, attempting to be menacing. They glance at me and put their hands up, but laugh anyway. I know with my work-appropriate garb and goth makeup, I look pretty ridiculous outside of the club.

Cartman uses the distraction to headbutt the one in front of him and wrenches his arms free. He runs toward me and grabs the knife from my hand, driving it into the closest guy's side. Red hot blood squirts out and he curses, as Cartman runs at the other guy that was punching him, pushes him into the snow, and they fall together in a cartwheel of arms and legs. The other man squeals as Cartman plummets the knife into his shoulder and pulls it back out. The new hole in the man's arm starts rhythmically releasing ounces of red as he twitches in pain on the ground.