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First, it was that medieval fantasy game.
New Kid had just moved to town and was immediately thrust into the thick of the local kids’ game. Admittedly, it was fun. In the beginning, anyway.
But it got to a point when the Nazi zombies, extraterrestrial anal probes, space goo, mutant rats, backstabbing children, and even the fucking underwear gnomes got to be too much.
New Kid supposed it was their fault for getting involved in the first place. They'd rather just move away for the hundredth time and avoid all of the blood and crude insults and government agents.
Then it was the superhero game. That was the first sign that everything was about to go to shit.
Now New Kid was on their knees in one of Mephesto’s wrecked labs with shattered glass littering the cold tile floors. Most importantly, New Kid was stuck in this room with their parents, their mom critically injured and their dad restrained to a table, unless they managed to collect an “organic DNA sample” that allowed them to keep moving. Dr. Mephesto and the rest of the Freedom Pals were still on the fourth floor of Mephesto’s lab building waiting to be saved.
Saved by an organic DNA sample from one of their parents.
New Kid was no stranger to dysfunctional families. Their parents’ arguments and alcoholism and addictions were usually at its worst right before they moved away and everything started over. It was just an hourglass flipping again and again while New Kid awaited the exact same result; the last grain of sand slipping through the crease, the brand new town that would only take the time to get to know them enough to call them something stupid like Douchebag or Buttlord or New Kid.
Yeah, New Kid was no stranger to dysfunctional families, but that was all they ever had to lean on.
This is all they have.
“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Mom said urgently. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy and spoke of nothing but pain. “They were about to cut off your father’s head to scan his DNA. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you have to finish the job.”
New Kid tried to peel their eyes away from their mother—their, God, their mother who was covered in deep gashes all along her body. Semi-dried blood was smeared haphazardly wherever it could be caked onto her skin, be it her various wounds or the fresh river that trailed from her nose and mouth to below the neckline.
Her left arm rested limply at her side, disheveled with cartilage and bone strewn in every direction so crookedly it was gut-wrenching. Sickening. They fought back the wave of nausea that threatened disgorgement.
Their mom sucked in a breath, her brows furrowing. “The only way out of here is to kill Daddy,” she said firmly. New Kid would have believed her based on tone alone if they weren't so intrinsically against the idea.
“I heard that! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Dad yelled from the other room. New Kid winced.
Their mother grimaced. “Can I have a conversation with our child without being criticized?!” she shot back.
New Kid’s vision blurred as the surrounding world became muffled.
This is all they have.
New Kid’s chest tightened at the mere thought of losing one of their parents, much less killing one themself. Their breaths quickened, straining to get air into their lungs.
New Kid shook their head vigorously, still knelt at their mother's side with shaking hands as their parents’ argument escalated. They couldn't do it.
They wobbled to their feet, their limbs feeling numb and far heavier than lead as they approached their father. They shouldn't listen. Listening to their father's pleas would only make this harder.
This is all they have.
New Kid gripped the side of the restraining table that their father was being held on, knuckles white enough to show the blooming discoloration from today’s various fights. They looked on imploringly, silently begging for a way out that didn't involve murdering one of their own parents.
New Kid’s father smiled at them, but it was strained. His eyes bugged outward slightly as he struggled to find the words that might save him from his own child.
“L-Listen, Kiddo. The CPU is waiting for either of our DNA. Just trick your mom into walking over to it,” Dad said quickly.
It wasn’t even a surprise when Mom interjected, this time as the one yelling from the other room. Her voice was shrill and tense. “Don’t make our child choose sides, that's so unfair!” Mom screeched.
“I’m trapped inside of a— a-a tube thingy!” Dad retorted angrily.
“My legs are broken and my arm is almost ripped off! I could bleed to death if I move!” Mom yelled.
New Kid saw the gears turning in their father's head. They hated it. They hated this.
Dad’s voice dropped to a whisper. “H-Hey, you hear that? Just, just go get mommy’s arm. That should do it,” he urged.
New Kid let out a choked sob when the words actually left their father’s mouth.
The pressure of it all only grew stronger, squeezing at New Kid’s heart and compressing their lungs. The only reason they and the others came here in the first place was to save New Kid’s parents from being killed by ‘Mitch Connor.’
It seemed that he'd be winning this one.
New Kid let out another small sob and let their head hang low, sucking in a deep breath and holding it. A pitiful attempt at calming their nervous system, but it sort of worked.
New Kid stumbled back to the small side-room where their mother laid incapacitated and defenseless.
Dad was perfectly fine on the table, not a scratch on him. Mom was another story. Maybe.. maybe they should put their mother out of her misery. Would she even survive after this if they picked Dad? But.. bleeding to death.. that's not much of a mercy, is it?
New Kid stared down at their mother, face pale and hands trembling severely as they bent down, slowly wrapping their small hands around their mother’s wrist. The skin was cold and sticky to the touch, slimy with blood.
“Baby, baby, no—” Mom said, panicked.
Tug.
Mom’s eyes clenched shut and her other hand tightened into a fist. “Ow! N-No, please, baby. I-I've lost a lot of blood already, w-we don't need to- to do that,” she said shakily.
New Kid wept silently, wanting nothing more than to just turn around the way they came and let somebody else do this. Let someone else make their impossible decision so they didn't have to.
They just wanted to go home.
Tug.
An anguished sound tore from their mother's throat and she shook her head vigorously. “If you take my arm it will kill me! Please-” he voice wobbled, “D-Don't kill Mommy, sweetheart. Mommy loves you!”
This is all they have.
New Kid shut their eyes and felt their skin burn with tears as they prepared to tug again, their small fingers digging into their mother’s mangled arm.
“W-Wait! Wait, wait, wait— okay, okay! Baby.. is this- is this about the medicine I put in your food? I- We only did it to protect you! Your father knew it had side effects, go ask him about them! Go ask your dad about the side effects!” Mom practically demanded, her words so rapid that it did nothing but accentuate her fear.
No, no. No. Oh, God. How were they supposed to make a choice like this? How could they be expected to pick one of their parents? New Kid swallowed. Their throat was so tight it hurt to even breath. Slowly, they stood back up and backed toward the main room. Back toward Dad. It was an excuse to stall, at best.
Everything hurt. Everything was hurting. It was so fucking intense that New Kid might be better off just killing themself.
They returned to the restraining table where their Dad laid and, unsure of what might happen, pressed the large red button at the foot of the table, preparing for the worst. Maybe it would be better if it were quick.
This is all they have.
The sterile white of the table began to glow with blue at its corners and edges as a loud hum filled the room. Above them, a mechanical arm whirred to life, changing positions until a laser was aligned with their father’s neck.
“W-Woah, h-hey, Kiddo! That— That operates the laser. Stop! You're gonna kill Daddy!” Dad pleaded.
New Kid felt bile rise from their stomach to their throat. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. They squeezed their eyes shut and pressed it again, panicking as the humming returned.
This was so fucked up.
The laser readjusted itself overhead.
“Please!” Dad said, his voice strained. “Mom has you confused! She's the problem, go kill her! I-I've done nothing but love you! Th-this is your last chance—”
New Kid suddenly retched, their head jerking to the side instinctively as the little contents left in their stomach splattered wetly onto the floor. Fuck! Fuck! They can't do this!
New Kid’s parents were far from perfect. But they almost always acted with New Kid’s best interests in mind. Even through the fights and the passive aggressive comments and the drugs, they fought if only to keep New Kid safe. They just.. went about it differently.
But..
“Act like a normal kid.”
“Nothing to say, huh? What a surprise.”
“Stupid little shit. I never should've gotten that bitch pregnant.”
“You dumb bitch! Why would you tell them our child’s gender?”
And yet, even drunk, the things that their mother would say were vastly different from their father’s words.
“Sweetie.. I just want you to know that.. whatever happens, Mommy always loved you. Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Sweetie, uh- you.. you forgot to.. eat your dinner. Mommy… Mommy put it on the table for you.”
This is all they have.
New Kid couldn't watch. Physically. Their vision was blurred with tears and spotting with black static that begged them to breathe. They felt like they were going to pass out. They felt like they were going to die. In their panic, they made a haphazard decision. They pressed the button. And they immediately regretted it.
Dad began to shout something as the humming grew louder, then he was screaming. It cut off abruptly.
With a dull thud, Dad’s head rolled off of the table and onto the floor, eyes wide and soulless as they stared directly at New Kid. It was like he knew what they did. And, well, he probably did. Blood dripped off of the edge of the table. A scarlet puddle formed at its base.
New Kid’s knees imitated their father’s decapitated head, falling down and knocking against the cold, hard floor.
This is all they have.
The gross metallic smell of their father’s blood made them retch again. Only bile came out. Scorching tears of shame and grief clogged their eyes as they crawled toward their father’s head, cradling it in their arms while their pants became a stained red. It felt like there were thorns in their throat.
“I-I’m— D-Daddy.. I-I'm so sorry,” New Kid wailed quietly, voice broken from both devastation and disuse. It hurt to speak. It hurt to recognize what they'd done.
New Kid had never felt so small before. Still, with a heavy heart and trembling so badly that they weren't sure they could even make it to the DNA processor, they struggled to their feet. Their arms hung with their father’s head in tow, an endless weight that they would never be rid of even when all of this was over.
They stroked their father's blood-matted hair as they dragged their feet toward the processor, dread overtaking them.
Dad was dead. They killed him.
Gently, with the kind of care not belonging to a murderer, New Kid set the head down in the designated box and initiated the protocol.
They stared right back into their father's eyes as the metal door shut over it and a series of gut-wrenching crunches and splatters resounded from inside the compartment.
New Kid felt another wave of nausea and grief hit them, but they sucked it up and wiped their forearm over their eyes.
DNA SCAN COMPLETE.
The glass doors on the wall behind the processor slid open with a hiss, finally allowing New Kid the access they needed to get them and their friends out of here.
They glanced at the side room, at their mother. Her face was deathly pale, eyes closed and mouth hung slack. There was no movement and New Kid could only stand there blankly. She was dead. New Kid must have killed her, too.
That was all they had.
New Kid blinked and turned away. They.. they needed to get out of here. They really needed to get out of here. They never wanted to come back and they wanted to.. to go home. Take a bath. Beat the shit out of Mitch Connor or Cartman or whoever orchestrated all of this. Then maybe the hourglass would flip and they would all move away again. Their parents wouldn't argue anymore—not until the hourglass was about to flip again. But that was okay with them. Maybe everything would be okay.
Maybe.
New Kid let false hope cloud their mind long enough to keep going, to leave the corpses of their parents behind them so that they might escape the same brutal end. They pretended that this hope was tangible enough to be held onto. That it wouldn't plunge them deeper into despair once they finally realized they were curling their little fingers against nothing but air and that they'd been plummeting through darkness the entire time.
The steel platform clanked with each step they took. After a moment of hesitation, they pressed the button and watched their own descent, the previous floor disappearing from view for the first and final time. They silently bid goodbye to their parents, but nobody could hear them and nobody ever would.
New Kid’s breath stuttered weakly and they gripped the railing to keep them steady on their feet when they felt so close to collapsing.
The trek down the final hallway was a blur. Grey and metal and cold. It was apathetic. New Kid didn't have to look behind them to know that the faint squelch of their shoes meant they were leaving behind bloody footprints, dark and watery like mud after a storm.
The mechanical doors at the end of the hallway hissed as they opened. New Kid walked through, heart hollow, and lifted their gaze to see the large tunnel where the tour had begun. It was covered in litter, mud, and animalistic footprints from God-knows-what creatures were held in this lab. There was a metal track on the wall to their right. Next to it was a yellow button labelled “tour tram call button.”
They pressed it and stepped back.
“There we go,” Dr. Mephesto said, the tram coming through the ceiling only seconds later. “You see, that wasn't so hard, was it?”
The tram came to a stop. “What took you so long, New Kid? Just screwin’ around having fun?” Stan—Toolshed—accused.
New Kid bit their tongue. They tasted blood, and it made them feel sick.
“Alright, Freedom Pals, we've got to get out to the town and tell everyone what Cartman is doing!” Dr. Timothy instructed, his telepathy ringing out while everyone flooded out of the tram.
They all migrated as a group toward the exit with a shared purpose: get to town and expose Cartman. New Kid wanted nothing more than to ruin him.
“I don't think so, guys,” a grating voice stopped them in their tracks. Cartman and his stupid little hand puppet. “You came all this way just to die, super shits.”
“Freedom Pals,” Human Kite corrected indignantly.
‘Mitch Conner’ paused. “Super shits.”
“Freedom Pals,” Human Kite repeated.
“Super shits.”
“Freedom Pals!”
“Super shits!”
“Freedom Pals!”
“Super shits, super shits, super shits, super shits!” Cartman yelled.
New Kid's head ached as the argument continued and Cartman's hand launched into its master plan about how crime was good for the city—and their franchise—and that this was all New Kid's fault for coming and trying to stop him.
New Kid felt anger burn underneath their skin, their heart clenching as adrenaline and a buzzing hatred nearly engulfed them.
“...But I couldn't finish getting the New Kid’s DNA, so I had to resort to making a genetically mutated clone of a different superhero,” Cartman announced, still posing as ‘Mitch Conner’.
“Which superhero?” Toolshed asked.
At that moment, the ground began to rumble and a massive shadowy figure almost as tall as the 50 foot glass ceilings of the greenhouse behind them rose from the ground. New Kid groaned internally.
“I’m baaaaaayaaaack!” giant mutant Cousin Kyle shouted.
Human Kite yelped in shock (and, face it, disgust. Cousin Kyle looked disgusting).
Cousin Kyle was disproportionate and chunky, with layers of venous skin and fat flopping everywhere. He was augmented to the point of being so deeply unnatural despite his natural defining features remaining. He pushed the shrubbery to the side with one swipe of his arm, removing the only barrier that divided him from them.
“Look at me, Cousin Kyle, I'm a horrific genetic mutation,” Cousin Kyle said, stepping forward. The ground shook with each step.
Human Kite held up his hands placatingly. “I-It’s okay, Cousin! We'll get you help,” he said shakily. The promise was half-hearted at best.
Long story short, Mutated Cousin Kyle had to fight them or else he'd “get a migraine.”
New Kid was, once again, thrust into battle. They really didn't want to do this right now. But, unfortunately, they would all need as much help as they could get against someone so grossly powerful. Like most fights before, New Kid became one of their most vital attackers.
The fight seemed to drag on for an hour before anything came of it. Turns out the super-powered fart New Kid used before the tour to speed up time was just as effective here, too. If they moved time forward by just twelve hours with each fart, the difference in sunlight meant that Mutant Cousin Kyle would have to reapply some sort of lotion or sunscreen. Then, in that timespan, they were able to attack him without hindrance.
After many repeats of this cycle, Mutated Cousin Kyle was on the brink of collapse. They needed one final push. Damn it.
“One last fart, New Kid! You gotta give it everything you’ve got!” Toolshed yelled.
New Kid kind of hated their power.
They adjusted their position and furrowed their brows in utter concentration. Just then, it felt like an explosion detonated.
New Kid blasted Mutant Cousin Kyle and the battle was over almost as soon as it began. They were knocked harshly to the floor and laid there quietly in excruciating pain. They never should've moved to this stupid fucking town.
“New Kid! New Kid, are you okay?” Human Kite asked while he and Toolshed helped them up.
Captain Diabetes interjected. “That last fart might’ve killed him!” he lisped, a weird amount of awe in his voice.
“That was pretty amazing, dude. I've never seen a guy rip one like that before,” Super Craig added monotonously. But it was genuine. Which.. was still kind of weird.
New Kid felt the exhaustion deep in their bones and wondered if they were about to faint for the umpteenth time in the last.. well, how far in the future were they now? Either way. They felt really damn close to passing out. It was like they could barely stand.
“Well, I hope you've all enjoyed the tour. Maybe now you have a new appreciation for what genetic engineering has to offer. You're now all free to exit, right through the gift shop,” Dr. Mephesto said.
New Kid found themselves harboring a new found and seething hatred for genetic engineering.
They made their way through the crappy gift shop while New Kid limped along, holding back tears. They felt that they deserved the right to feel like shit after all that's happened today.
The mournful thought of their dead parents managed to slither its way into the back of their mind and they had to shove it deep down before they could spiral. New Kid just wanted to go home and—and cry. Or sleep. And maybe not wake up. But they couldn't do any of those things in peace because the remnants of their parents’ kidnapping was still.. everywhere.
They'd had enough to do with blood for today. And probably for the rest of their life.
They trekked back down to the base of the sunlit mountain and let the gate squeak shut behind them. The Freedom Pals started to regroup.
“Alright, we gotta go tell on Cartman,” Toolshed said firmly.
Wonder Tweek made an aggravated sound and twitched a couple times. “B-But who do we tell?!”
“I don't know, what time is it?” Human Kite asked.
Mysterion was the first to reply while the others pulled out their phones. “It’s.. oh, shit! Oh no!” he rasped.
“What is it, Mysterion?” Fastpass asked, worried, as they all moved to crowd around Mysterion.
Mysterion’s voice turned unusually gruff. “The New Kid farted so big he made it next week!”
“What?” Toolshed said in disbelief.
“Check your phones! It's ten days later!” Mysterion shouted.
Everyone glanced down at the same time and their faces morphed into varying degrees of shock and panic.
“Oh, great! The New Kid farted us to next week!” Toolshed yelled.
Tweek yelped anxiously. “Damn it! He screwed us!”
“Way to go, New Kid,” Toolshed said accusingly.
New Kid blinked.
This was..
They bit their tongue.
New Kid saved the Freedom Pals’ lives multiple times after losing their parents and yet this was all their fault?
What about the fucking loser who started all of this? Who betrayed all the Freedom Pals? Who destroyed Dr. Timothy’s franchise plan? Who kidnapped New Kid’s fucking parents? Who made New Kid kill their own parents? Who made a mutant abomination of Human Kite’s cousin and nearly killed all of them?
And they were all blaming them?
What the fuck!
New Kid trembled with fury, their fists clenching tight enough that their knuckles whitened and their fingernails dug sharp into their palms, breaking skin. Their exhaustion was long forgotten as grief and ire hit them like a tsunami.
Human Kite spoke up, accusatory. “Cartman’s being sworn in as mayor today and it's all New Kid’s fault!”
“Come on, Freedom Pals, we have to—” Toolshed began.
“Shut the fuck up,” New Kid said, their heart pumping with adrenaline and rage and so many terrible things. It was like everything they repressed earlier came back full force and threatened to explode.
The Freedom Pals turned to them. Some looked annoyed while others looked genuinely surprised. Only two of them had heard New Kid utter a single word since they moved here, so it was surprising that they had said anything at all. “..Uh, what?” Toolshed said slowly.
“I-I said.. I said to shut the fuck up. All of you,” New Kid repeated, their voice beginning to shake from intensity.
Human Kite grimaced. “Dude, you have to admit, it kinda is your fault that—”
New Kid struck Human Kite across the face with their fist, who promptly stumbled back in shock. “I saved your lives multiple times during that God-forsaken tour! Don't tell me that this was my fault when I did what I had to in order to save your asses! I'm not going to—I-I can't..” they trailed off, voice breaking.
“J-J-Jesus. Calm d-down, New Kid,” Fastpass said.
Mosquito glanced around with wide eyes. “Is he actually talking? Like, I'm hearing this correctly, right? He’s talking?”
“Shut the fuck up, Mosquito,” Super Craig deadpanned.
Dr. Timothy raised his fingers to his head to speak. “You’re right, New Kid. We're sorry for blaming you when you only did what was necessary.”
“Gh— b-but he did screw us over! We can't just pretend that he didn't!” Wonder Tweek insisted angrily.
Super Craig put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Easy, Honey,” he said.
Toolshed sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We were waiting for at least an hour on the fourth floor for you to call the tram down. If you had been faster, we probably would've been able to avoid Cartman altogether, or at least do something that didn't require your time farts.”
“Well, hang on, Stan,” Call Girl interjected, sounding concerned. “How do we know that? New Kid was sent down all by themself. It probably would've gone much faster if we sent a few others down with them to help.”
Tupperware chimed in. “Yeah. None of us wanted to go, so it's kind of unfair to pin it all on him.”
“Seriously? What could've taken him that long? It was just a few four-assed animals, let's be real,” Human Kite insisted.
New Kid exploded. “I had to kill my fucking parents, you asshole!” they screamed, their voice tearing from their throat.
Call Girl gasped, covering her mouth with both hands with an uttered ‘Oh my God’. Professor Chaos looked terrified behind her, his mouth hanging open.
“What?!” Mysterion asked in alarm.
New Kid let out a sharp sob, feeling their composure crack before completely shattering. “I k-killed my own parents,” they repeated weakly. New Kid sank to their knees unceremoniously and felt the snow melt into their blood stained pants. “I-I had to if I wanted to get to the first— th-the first floor. The controls.. fuck, it needed a DNA sample to be operated.”
“Holy shit, dude,” Human Kite said. “I-I.. shit.”
Captain Diabetes looked somewhere between sympathetic and disturbed, taking a step back. “New Kid.. killed his parents?”
Professor Chaos was teary-eyed as he rushed to New Kid’s side to hug them. “Gosh, I don't believe it. I'm so sorry, New Kid. I-I bet you they're in a better place now.”
‘Without me,’ New Kid thought bitterly.
Toolshed looked guilty beyond belief. “Oh, fuck. I-I’m.. I'm so sorry, dude. Oh my God.” He made a sound akin to a burp and slapped a hand to his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut.
Call Girl was the next one to go in for a hug. “I’m so sorry, New Kid, I-I can't even imagine..” she said softly, her arms wrapped around them.
Tupperware came next. He didn't say anything, but the hug was enough to show his remorse. The other kids still looked horrified.
Mosquito burst into tears, ripping the phony plastic proboscis off of his face and letting it fall to the ground. “Jesus, I-I can't— I'm gonna be fucking sick,” he groaned. He felt enough guilt after accidentally killing his own mother, but both of his parents? Intentionally? He couldn't even… Mosquito doubled over, clutching his abdomen as he vomited. Toolshed came up behind him and gave his back a few weak pats in an attempt to reassure him.
“Gah! I-I'm— I don't know what to say! Craig!” Wonder Tweek exclaimed in the midst of his panic.
Super Craig’s grip on Wonder Tweek's shoulder tightened, getting his boyfriend’s attention. He shook his head silently. Wonder Tweek swallowed thickly and fell silent, looking crest-fallen.
“New Kid, we're deeply sorry for your loss,” Dr. Timothy expressed before falling silent once more.
“Holy c-c-crap, New Kid. We had n-no idea,” Fastpass frowned.
Mysterion looked solemn and ashamed of himself. “I'm sorry, New Kid. Death is.. hard.”
New Kid broke down further and wept against the snow, three sets of arms holding them through it while the others stood and watched with their heads hung. It felt like New Kid was being gutted with a shovel and their chest hollowed out with a chainsaw. They just wanted their parents back.
They were all they had. Now they were gone.