The Dreams of The Tortured(Style)[StanxKyle]{South Park}

Chapter 1- Kyle's POV

(This is an AU. It's kinda hard to exactly explain, but know there's a war thing going on, and it will make sense later)

'No! I won't let you do this!'

'Unfortunately for you, I've already done it.'

My eyes snap open and I sit up fast.

I look at my hands.

Free? I'm fucking free?

Well, not free, as in free, but I'm in control.

I stand up and look around. Where the hell am I?

"Sir?" I look around.

There's a guy in some kind of armor staring at me.

"What? Who are you?"

He nods in understanding. "You said this might happen."

With a chill I realize what he means. "Okay."

"Do you know what we're doing?"

"No."

"We're getting you into the other side."

I nod slowly, not knowing what he means.

We trudge on, eventually getting to a forest, and cutting throught that.

"So, what are we exactly doing again?" I ask.

He sighs. "I have to chase you and injure you a bit."

"Why?"

"Your mission is to befriend the higher ranks so they trust you, and in every book the people save you and you become best friends for some reason. Think of the trust you'll crush when you slit their throats. Making fake trust is respected with us." He says like he's in a revenge daydream. He sounded so bitter.

I go pale. Jesus christ, what the fuck was going on exactly? Slitting peoples throats? Destroying trust?

In the trust case, I could be the bloody leader of them, whoever they are.

"How bad do you want me to get you?''

"Uh, enough to really hurt me? Something that seems like a miracle will make them desperate, and it'll be easier. So an arrow throught the chest, or stomach would work well. Whatever you hit, make it seem bad.'' If I'm here, I'm here to do what I was before I woke up. I just have to get used to this.

"Okay." He nods.

"Also, if I'm going to be accepted into whatever this is, I should make it look like I put up a good fight. I'll be seen as strong then."

I wait for him to get it.

"You want me to injure myself?'' He asks slowly.

"It would make it better for me.''

"If you say so..." He hands me a knife, he seems to not want to do it himself. I make a gash in his leg.

"On your mark, tell us when to run.''

He signals when to run with his hands, and I hop out and start to sprint, then scream for help.

He shoots me with something new, nothing I remember feeling.

I let out a scream of fake agony, even though this new pain surprised me.

I pretend to fall down and close my eyes, maybe they thought it me passing out, or dying. I don't know anything yet about this culture.

I hear a voice. "O-oh my god! HEY BASTARD!" They scream at the guy I was talking with.

I open my eyes for a second and see the guy get away, then horrifyingly, a face.