Revenge Au Trois

Chapter 18

Everyone looked at Stan when he finished speaking. He lowered his eyes and shrugged. "Well, that's what happened."

Wendy shook her head. "I can't believe you've been lying all this time. We agreed – no secrets, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"What did you think I'd do? Call the cops?"

"Of course not!" Stan exclaimed. "I thought it was all in the past. I didn't think Trent would…"

His voice trailed off as he looked at his nemesis, who glared at him.

"Poor Miss Claridge," Wendy said sadly. "You know she can't even beep once for yes and twice for no any more."

Stan hung his head guiltily.

"'Poor Miss Claridge'?" Trent mimicked sarcastically. "What about me? I'm the one who's spent fifteen years inside for stuff I didn't do!"

"I would have some sympathy for you Trent, if you hadn't ruined my fucking wedding day!" Wendy shouted at him.

Stan shut his eyes in disbelief. Oh yeah, great plan, Wendy. Lets make him angrier and see what happens.Just for a moment, he thought he heard something in the distance. Sirens? He shook his head. With the way their luck had been running the last couple of days, it was highly unlikely.

Trent grabbed the machete and strode over to Wendy. She stared at him defiantly.

Stan's eyes snapped open. He had definitely heard something that time. He looked at Cartman, who gazed back wonderingly and mouthed: "Sirens?" Gregory turned his head slightly towards the door.

Trent grabbed Wendy by the hair and pulled her head back. "You have no idea what my life has been like, you stuck up bitch!"

"So you've had a hard life! Boo hoo! So have millions of other people!" Wendy snapped contemptuously.

Trent placed the sharp blade against her throat. Stan gave a shout of horror and struggled uselessly against his bonds. He could hear the wail of sirens getting closer. Come on, come on…

"I don't think you want to do that, Trent," Gregory warned.

"Eric, what's happening?" Butters asked, trying in vain to twist his neck around the post. "Can anyone else hear police sirens?"

"Police?" Trent asked, alarmed. He stood up and let go of Wendy, who exhaled deeply. "No! This can't be happening!"

"Uh-oh! You've been busted!" Cartman taunted.

"Trent, listen to me," Gregory urged. "I can get you out of this, but you need to untie me right now!"

For the first time, Stan saw indecision in Trent's eyes and was reminded of how young he was. All the time he had seemed like the guy in control but really, he was in way over his head.

Police cars skidded to a halt outside, filling the warehouse with red and blue lights. They could hear people rushing around, all speaking loudly.

"Trent Boyette! Gregory Edgerley-Finn!" A gruff sounding man spoke suddenly through a loudhailer. Trent started at the sound of his name. "Put your weapons down and come outside with your hands up. If you refuse to co-operate, we will send in the SWAT team. You have thirty seconds to comply."

Trent's face drained of all colour as the reality of the situation began to hit home. Stan noticed his hands were shaking.

"Do what they're telling you, Trent," he said. "There's nothing else you can do."

"But I'll go back to prison," Trent said in a scared voice.

"Yeah, but maybe you can do a deal with them or something," Stan suggested. "Maybe if you testify against that asshole," he nodded at Gregory, "you might get a reduced sentence."

"No!" Trent said, shaking his head vigorously. "I can't go back to prison. I won't go back!"

He picked up his rifle and walked to the door as though in a trance. He opened the door and stepped outside.

"Trent, no!" Stan yelled helplessly after him.

Time seemed to stand still inside the warehouse as Trent was ordered several times to drop his weapon. Stan estimated that he managed to get off two shots before the inevitable hail of bullets. Seconds felt like hours as the shots rang out, and then almost as quickly as they had started, they stopped. There was a moment of silence, then a voice shouted: "Suspect down! Suspect is down!"

The next thing they knew, the door had been kicked clean off its hinges and the warehouse was filled with people dressed in black combat trousers, helmets and Kevlar vests, who set to work untying them once they'd established there was no other threat. Stan's legs nearly gave way underneath him when he stood up; such was the weight of relief. Gregory was handcuffed and marched outside. The other hostages followed, all feeling a little dazed.

Once they were outside, Stan and Wendy fell into each others' arms, Kyle burst into tears and Cartman and Butters stood staring into space. Stan, his chin resting on Wendy's head, watched as two black body bags were loaded into the waiting ambulance. Nearby, caught in the light of various sets of headlights, what seemed like an ocean of blood stained the sidewalk. Stan shut his eyes and buried his face in Wendy's hair.

The rest of the night was a blur. The police asked endless questions, trying to get to the bottom of what had happened. Two officers were dispatched to find Christophe, while Gregory sat stony faced in the back of a panda car.

Eventually, some time after midnight, everybody piled into the police cars and with the ambulance leading the way, the procession left South Park, sirens blaring. Stan, Kyle and Wendy were in one car, Cartman and Butters in another. During the journey back to Denver, Stan finally got to ask the question that had been bothering him all night.

"How did you guys even find us?"

The cop in the passenger seat turned and smiled at him. "You've got your lil' lady to thank for that. Without her quick thinking we'd never have found you."

Stan looked at Wendy. "Huh?"

She looked embarrassed. "I didn't know what had happened to you and I was frantic. Gregory was all over me like a rash. By chance I heard the voicemail you left on his phone, but I thought no-one would believe me if I told them. I knew that the only way to find you was through him, so…I let him take me hostage."

Stan blinked. "You did what?"

"I knew that pompous asshole wouldn't be able to resist showing me how clever he'd been," Wendy replied. "So I let him kidnap me. I'd already hidden my cellphone in my pocket, and on the way here, I called Bebe." Suddenly remembering, she took her phone out of her pocket and switched it off. "She knew the plan, so I knew she'd be listening. I managed to get Gregory to tell me where we were going, so all I had to do after that was wait. I knew that the cops could track my phone signal, even if they didn't have an exact location."

"So that's why you got me to tell you about Miss Claridge!" Stan said, grinning. "Damn babe, remind me not to piss you off!"

Wendy snuggled up to him and kissed him gently.

"Oh, come on Stan, you should know by now," she whispered, her breath tickling his cheek. "Don't fuck with Wendy Testaburger!"

It was a happy, joyful scene, he had to admit. Unfortunately, he'd never really done happy and joyful. He stared at the ecstatic couple standing on the steps of the church, and all he felt was a searing hatred.

He gazed at the bride and fantasised about what he might like to do to her. Wendy fucking Testaburger. Well, Wendy fucking Marsh now. He'd found out about her scheme when they'd broken out. The bitch had stitched him right up. He flushed red with anger, and forced himself to look away. No, now was not the time.

As he continued to watch, the wedding party left and began to move away down the street, all of them in the mood for a massive celebration. None of them noticed the white van parked across the road, or the two men sitting inside it. And why would they?

"Look, zey are leaving!" his friend exclaimed. "We need to act now, while we still 'ave a chance!"

He sighed deeply. It wasn't easy working with an idiot.

"Really Christophe, you have no sense of occasion, do you?" he said witheringly. "Its their wedding day, let them celebrate. Their time will come."

"But Gregory, the iron, she is still warm! We should strike now!"

"As I keep explaining to you, we are two of America's most wanted men!" Gregory said patiently. "We've got all the major law enforcement agencies looking for us. I don't think that now is quite the time for a revenge attack, do you? No, we need to get out of the country for a while."

"So why did you bring us 'ere?" Christophe asked, confused.

Gregory chuckled. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just a masochist." He gunned the engine. "Look Chris, I understand how you feel. I have a score to settle, too." He had one last look at Wendy, who was just visible in the wing mirror. "But that's one for the future."

Christophe, who had been gazing sulkily out of the window, looked at him, his hope renewed. "So we will be back?"

Gregory drove out into the traffic. "Oh yes," he said, his face full of menace. "I can't promise you when, but I promise you this…we will be back!"

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