Chapter Text
Stay calm.
Stan took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly.
Focus. We can’t get caught now.
He stared at the clock on the wall. 5:10. Just five more minutes. Just five more minutes, and then…
He jumped at the sound of a door creaking open. Stan could tell it was his father, Randy, just from the way his footsteps stomped on the creaky wooden floors. When they had just bought the Colorado farmhouse, the building was new and sturdy, but now, after 15 years, the floors creaked and the walls groaned uncomfortably. It was as if the building itself was exhausted, just as exhausted as he felt.
Stan took another deep breath, trying to stay calm as he sat at the kitchen table. If Shelley can get out of here, I can too. Just gotta keep my head on straight.
Randy stumbled into the kitchen where Stan sat, but as usual, he didn’t make direct eye contact; of course, Stan didn’t want to make direct eye contact. He didn’t want to see what his father had become.
Of all the changes Randy had undergone throughout these 15 years, Stan found his claws to be the most troubling of them all; they were always what made contact with his food first. Stan stared at his father’s claws nervously, wondering just how sharp they had gotten in these past few weeks. They were most definitely longer than they were last week. Stan wondered if he was still using the walls in his bedroom to sharpen them.
The soft sound of the claws on his feet clicking and scratching against the creaky floorboards set Stan on edge as his father made his way over to the fridge. Lucky for him, Tolkien had recently delivered a fresh batch of food for both farmsteads. He hated having to rely on his neighbour so much, but with how things were going lately, was there any other choice?
Stan’s heart sank, thinking of the way things used to be, when his father still looked human and Stan wasn’t trapped here. His 11th birthday had truly, unquestionably ruined everything.
—
“Happy birthday!” Kyle and Kenny had both cried out in unison the moment they saw him roaming the school halls, rushing over to his side.
“Thanks, guys,” Stan couldn’t hide the blush that spread across his face. It was so embarrassing that they were so eager. It would be much better if they were just cool about it. Still, he couldn’t say he wasn’t feeling happy to see them.
He even felt relief when Cartman approached, a meanspirited smirk across his face. “How’s it feel to be an old man now, Stan?”
“Cartman, he’s only older than us by a few months,” Kyle immediately scolded him. Kenny shook his head, giving a knowing look to Stan. They both knew these two would bicker on and on forever if they could. And they both knew that they could.
“So? He’s still the first of us to get this old.” His smile was wide, his eyes glinting with mischief.
Stan just rolled his eyes, and Kenny gave a dramatic shrug. They were both accustomed to tuning those two out when they got started, at this point.
Truth be told, Stan was just grateful that things were normal here. This morning, his parents were acting… erratic , was probably the best way to say it. His mom was extra irritable; his dad seemed even crazier than he already was. His sister was just as concerned about them when they left for school; a rarity that she would agree with him, but one that was becoming less and less rare as their father continued to drag them into situations.
By the time he had zoned back in, the school bell had rung, and the boys all made their way to class. This was going to be a normal day, Stan told himself. His parents were just acting weird again, as they always did. Nothing was out of the ordinary today. Of course not.
He tried to ignore the deep pit that was forming in his stomach, and the faint smell of something burning coming from inside the classroom. Wait… what?
—
Stan watched nervously as Randy’s disgustingly long, sharply clawed fingers pierced the apple that had rolled out of the fridge and onto the floor. His coordination was all off, but somehow, Stan could see his eyes tracking whatever caught his attention perfectly. It was like his brain was sharp and precise, even if his body wasn’t. He brought the apple to his lips and dropped it into his open mouth, not bothering to chew, before turning his attention to the fridge.
Stan held back the urge to vomit at the sight of his father eating, rabid and feral. He hated seeing Randy’s jaw unhinging, his horrifically malformed hands shoveling what food was in the fridge into his mouth, his sharp anglerfish-like teeth sticking out in every direction. Stan glanced at the clock again. 5:12. Just three more minutes and Tolkien would help him get out of here.
Just three more minutes.
“Stan…” Randy’s new voice always sent a shiver down his spine.
“Yeah, dad?”
“Food…” His claws scratched against the fridge, now empty. How did he eat all of that so fast? It was just filled… I just looked away for a second…
“T-Tolkien’s coming, dad,” Stan’s voice wavered. Sweat began to bead up on his skin as he begged the clock to move faster. “Just three more minutes and we’ll- we’ll get you more food.”
Randy’s eyes locked onto Stan’s, and Stan held back the gasp that always wanted to escape whenever they locked eyes. He couldn’t see his father looking back anymore, only a wild, hungry animal. Those eyes were so glassy and empty, like those of a deep sea fish, and yet deeply intense, as a wolf’s or a tiger’s; unquestionably predatory in nature.
“Food…” He could see that Randy’s eyes were locking onto him with a new and pronounced intensity. Fear slowly crept through him. Oh, God. He sees me as food. It’s happening.
“D-Dad,” His voice was unconfident, but he still tried to speak firmly. “We’re getting you more food. I promise. You and mom, you’ll both get to eat soon. You just- you just have to wait.”
Stay calm. If you show fear, his instincts will kick in. You’ll be prey. So, don’t be his prey. Be his son. Stay calm. Show no fear.
Stan took a deep breath as Randy’s eyes pierced into him. He didn’t want to admit it, but this wasn’t going to work anymore. He had to go. Not later today, at 5:15, but now, at this very moment where his father stopped seeing him as a person and started seeing him as potential food.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Randy’s eyes darted off in the distance. He must have caught sight of an animal outside, through the window just behind, but it was all Stan needed right now.
Stan did the familiar motion; a flick of the wrist, just enough to make a circular motion. It was all he needed, just one moment. His hands lit up, completely white, and a black, shining portal opened before him, sprawled across the table.
He lept into the portal as quickly as he could; a deep terror rang through him as he realized that Randy had brought his attention back to Stan and made a lunge for him just as the portal manifested. Stan was faster, though, closing the portal before he could be reached. He saw the phantom outline of his father, now rearing up on his hind legs, impossibly tall, sniffing for any trace of him. Stan had never known such a deep and primal fear before now. As horrible as his father had been throughout the years, he had never been hunted by him like this before.
He would be safe in the pocket dimension, and he could make it outside from this dimension; he just needed to find Tolkien’s car, and they could get out of there. Randy might have become a fast, inhuman beast, but he still couldn’t run fast enough to reach that car at top speed, and Stan’s portals were always faster than anything else, just as long as he could do the gesture.
He just needed to portal his way into the car, and he would be safe. Right now, regardless of whether or not Tolkien was ready for him.
—
The first unconscious clue that the children of South Park had that their world had changed permanently that day was that their parents, and all of the adults around them for that matter, were acting strangely off.
The first physical clue was that Bebe’s hair was completely on fire.
Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny all stood idly by the doorway, staring at the sight. They couldn’t read each other’s minds, but they could all bet they all had the exact same initial thought; WHAT?
Despite her hair quite literally flickering around, as fire does, Bebe Stevens wasn’t in any obvious distress. It was almost as if her hair was not on fire, but rather, it simply was fire, as if she had been born that way. Had they not known her before, they might have believed as much. Seeing the boys staring, she looked up and smiled a toothy smile; the other kids in the class were flocked around her, their eyes wide and amazed.
“How did this happen?”
“When did it start?”
“Is it real fire?”
“Can I touch it?”
Questions filled the air, but she seemed in no rush to explain herself, instead proudly sitting back in her chair and making a show of welcoming the boys into the class. Their classmates briefly turned to acknowledge the boys before quickly returning to flocking around her, bombarding her with questions she seemed to be indifferent to.
The boys, evidently the last to arrive to class, all joined their classmates in staring aghast at her hair, throwing their own questions into the pile. The whole class was there, and Bebe’s smile widened as she proudly sat up in her chair. The children all fell silent at her movement, eager for her to explain herself.
“Good, you’re all here! Now… wanna see what I can do?” Her voice was playful, and she mischievously twirled a finger into her hair-fire, absentmindedly playing with a strand as if it wasn’t made of fire.
“SHOW US!”
“What is it?!?”
“Did you set it yourself???”
She ignored the second wave of bombarding questions, and climbed onto her desk, once again silencing the other students. Standing tall, she thrust her hand upwards, and a burst of sparks erupted from her fist and showered her classmates. She opened her hand dramatically, revealing a flame that was miraculously staying alight in the palm of her hand, despite no obviously explainable origin.
The entire class erupted in excitement, with each kid running up to each other and screaming their amazement. It was so exciting that they almost missed the second physical clue that something was off today; Jimmy Valmer, in his excitement, had zoomed across the room at supersonic speeds. Soon enough, a third clue; Craig Tucker, trying to seem cool about it all and pretend he wasn’t excited, leaned against a wall… and fell right through it, as if he were a ghost passing through it.
The kids all began buzzing with excitement, asking each other about their powers; three kids had real actual powers, evidently, so obviously, they all had to have powers, right? It only made sense!
In this excitement, only one kid sat at his desk, nervously staring at his classmates as they all tried to figure out their “cool new powers” out.
Stan wanted this day to be normal. Sure, it was his birthday, that’s a unique day that deserved at least some acknowledgement; but, he didn’t want this. He most certainly did not want powers, but especially if everyone was going to be so, so much about it. The last gift he would ever want was to breathe underwater, or fly, or turn invisible, or… whatever his power would be. His heart sank.
Too much is changing all at once… Why can’t things just stop changing? I’m not even used to my new home yet…
—
As he hurried out the door, hoping beyond hope that his pocket dimension would hold long enough to escape, Stan glanced over his shoulder at the farmstead.
He had to admit, as much as he never wanted to move there, a part of him felt sad seeing how rundown the farm had become. He still remembered it when it was new and sturdy, when even his mother was excited for something new, when his father was still sure that this business venture was truly the path to his success. He laughed, bitterly. Hindsight was always clear, even if it was unkind.
He couldn’t stare for long. If he was still, the pocket dimension could last for at least 30 minutes, but each movement he made made it harder and harder to hold. He had to focus to keep it up, and he couldn’t afford to lose focus now.
His eyes darted wildly to the neighbouring farm, hoping to see Tolkien’s truck in the driveway, but unfortunately, predictably, he wasn’t there yet. As much as Stan cared for him, Tolkien could be so annoying at times, especially with how often he took his sweet time.
Rather than waiting for him and hoping he would be in time, Stan began to run down the only road out of the farms. If he could just run far enough to catch Tolkien before he pulled in, they would have time to run. Stan tried to tell himself this as his breath began wavering, and his pocket dimension was visibly starting to fall.
He heard the distinctive sound of Randy’s claws raking across the dirt road behind him, and he knew it was time to drop the pocket dimension. He knew his father would sniff him down regardless, so now his only hope was to outpace him; something that he had never done before, but hopefully, he could do it.
He flicked his wrist again, this time creating a portal in front of himself that he immediately ran into, teleporting him further down the road and away from his frenzied father. He had to buy as much time as he could, at least enough to catch up to Tolkien.
He looked one last time at his father; Randy’s eyes glowed with a hunger Stan had never seen before, and his monstrous mouth hung open, drool flying out of it like a rabid dog as he ran after him on all fours. Stan wished he had never seen his father like this, that the scariest look he had seen from his father was still the look he gave on that fateful night that everything changed.
Randy was catching up again. He flicked his wrist again, his hands lighting up as a portal manifested before himself, teleporting him further down the road. C’mon, Tolkien, get here! I can’t keep this up, I need you right now!
—
In all the 11 years of his life that he had lived so far, Stan could not think of a time where he had seen his father look so scary before. He was on the phone with someone, he couldn’t tell who, and his face was just contorting in confusion and anger the whole time. What’s going on?
He was hiding himself behind the doorway, scared to let his parents know he was there, but he saw Randy lean over to Sharon and whisper something in her ear. Stan watched his mother gasp, then her own expression turned dark, and angry, just like Randy’s.
Stan had no idea what was going on. Was it about the teacher, Mr. Garrison? He had never shown up to school today, and the kids of South Park spent the whole time they should have spent learning instead trying to find their individual powers. Some were found easy enough, but only a handful were figured out before they all had to go home for the day.
This was hardly the first time Mr. Garrison just didn’t show up, though. He was infamous for a lot of things, his tardiness being one of them. Maybe Cartman had pulled some awful stunt again, or Butters got hurt again, or -
He didn’t have to wonder for long. Randy had hung up the phone, and he practically stomped his way over to Stan, who had evidently not done a good enough job to hide himself. Stan curled himself up into a ball, trying to make himself so small that Randy couldn’t see him.
“You’re not going to that school anymore,”
“What?”
“You heard me, Stan!”
Stan couldn’t stop himself from crying. “But why not?”
He never got an answer. Not now, or ever.
Worse yet, Randy was soon enough gathering all of the phones in the house, intent on destroying them. Not even personal laptops or a family computer were safe to have now; Wi-fi was, with no prior indication, suddenly the enemy.
From this day on, suddenly and without any warning or preparation, the only connection Stan would have to South Park was Tolkien.
It wasn’t all bad. At least Tolkien still hung out with him, and Tolkien was happy to deliver letters between Stan and Kyle.
Still, living life without the internet to connect to his friends with, without any way to reach them, without any way of getting out… it was all so much to get used to.
Even when Stan finally learned what his powers were and how to activate them, he felt stuck, unable to leave. How could he leave his parents, alone, when they were getting worse by the day? Sure, he could have left with Tolkien at some point, but he wanted to stand by his family no matter what.
He was happy to help Shelley get out, subtly sending her into Tolkien’s truck one day when their parents weren’t paying attention; but he couldn’t get out himself. No, he had to stay, he had to take care of them. They were his parents, and he loved them. Even as Randy became more and more violent; even as Sharon became more and more of a hermit.
It was his job to stick by them, right? No matter what Tolkien said, no matter what Kyle would write to him about. Even as they aged, even as Tolkien’s parents started to lose it and change themselves, Stan just knew it was different for him.
Maybe Tolkien and Shelley could leave the farms behind, and sure, Tolkien’s parents were doing fine now, hunting whatever wild animals showed up on the property, but Stan’s parents were different. They needed him.
They wouldn’t forget him, not a chance.
—
There he is!
Stan felt a wave of relief wash over him as he spotted Tolkien’s truck, cruising at a decent speed on the road. Without missing a beat, he portaled his way into the passenger seat.
Tolkien jumped slightly. No matter how many times Stan portaled, he could never seem to get used to it.
“Stan, Jesus, you’ve got to stop-”
“ DRIVE! ”
Stan didn’t wait for Tolkien to finish his thought, instead insistently pointing towards Randy. He didn’t even try to hide the terror in his voice.
Without even looking, as if he had been expecting this all along, Tolkien did a quick u-turn and stepped on the gas, effortlessly driving away from the farms without even a second thought.
“It’s your dad, isn’t it?” Tolkien’s voice was solemn. “My dad lost it first, too.”
For the first time since honestly who knows when, Stan let out a sigh, a real sigh, slumping back into his seat and just letting his body rest. He had been running for what felt like 30 minutes but was realistically only one or two. If he was honest, he felt like he had been running for these past 15 years, and he only just now stopped.
His eyes welled up with silent tears as he stared in the mirror. He saw his own father still chasing after them before slowing to a stop, as an animal does when they realize they’ve failed a pursuit, and he watched as Randy turned around and headed back towards the farm.
His heart filled with bittersweet emotion. He really was forgotten by his own parents… but he was free . Finally, after all these years of being trapped by obligation to help his now unrecognizable family… he was free. His heart twisted in grief and excitement all at once.
They drove off silently as Stan watched the farm in the mirror, growing farther and farther in the distance. Tolkien didn’t comment as he kept on driving, knowing Stan needed a moment to say goodbye for himself. The tires crunching over the rough road was the only sound ringing out through the car as Stan gave his internal farewell.
Goodbye, Tegridy Farms… Goodbye, mom and dad. I wish our goodbye could have been better.
