Presenting my first chapter based thing which is probably going to turn out horribly. This is based during the Imaginationland trilogy for anyone keeping track. Incidentally this was to be written to go with some music but then after a terrible accident in which three people died that was abandoned. I'm not entirely happy with this first chapter but please do bear with it here.

Review box at the bottom. Constructive stuff is nice but shit flinging, as ever, is welcome.

If Kenny had to describe something as the absolute visual representation of several quadrillion tonnes of shit heading fanwards, this would probably have to be it.

He was surrounded by just about the entire town freaking out and descending upon the shops in order to steal as much as they could get away with. Which considering that half of the local police force was involved in the rioting made it an effective all-you-can-eat buffet.

Kenny's financial situation being what it was, it would be missing an opportunity if he were not to join in. The first thing he'd stolen was a backpack. Then he'd set about filling it with decent food. It was difficult to do, sure, he had to keep up with the crowd so that the shops he hit actually had anything worth a damn, but keeping up with the crowd ran the risk of getting hit.

And since Kenny took an occasional beating, getting hit wasn't that great a problem. So he did keep up with the crowd and took whatever he could find. As long as it was essential, though. He hardly wanted to be considered a thief or anything.

Added upon the violence was screaming and shouting, a few people were firing guns into the air, a few more were setting things on fire. Such things happened when national disasters appeared to be impending. Normally in such a situation Kenny might be one of the four go-to fourth graders who would fix the problem, but on this occasion he was sitting it out.

He wasn't sitting it out because an assault on imagination was a bit too much for him - it was because Cartman was trying to get Kyle to suck his balls over some bullshit bet about a leprechaun and Kenny was having no part in it.

He heard a smash to his right - a new window had been smashed. He pushed his way through the crowd and climbed in. He stuffed his bag with what he could get - tinned stuff, mainly, since that was pretty much all his parents knew how to prepare. There were a few microwavable things in there too, and - inevitably - toaster waffles. With his bag full, he was all ready to leave, but fighting his way out was going to be fighting a one way flow - he withdrew to a far corner of the store, grabbing a chocolate bar on the way, and decided to sit down and wait for things to quiet down.

He ate slowly, savouring the taste. He didn't get to eat sweet stuff very often. When he was eventually done there were still people stealing everything they could, but they were filtering out too. He climbed out. There were fires everywhere now and a bit more fighting, though that was probably because a jewellery store had been busted into and they were scrabbling for the most valuable things. Kenny had no interest there. Unfortunately he did have to negotiate the crowd to get home, and wearing bright orange could put him across as an obvious target should someone feel like punching someone else or more police turn up with intent to stop the riots rather than join the party.

He ran across the street to a winter clothes store that hadn't seen as bad looting as some places and picked up a parka and trousers identical to his own orange ones, but in navy blue instead. Much better. He quickly changed into them and flung the orange stuff over his shoulder then braced himself for getting through the crowd again.

He stepped outside and at a brisk walk re entered the swarm. People paid little attention to him, which was good, in as much as their attending to smashing windows, stealing things and hitting each other could be considered good. He pulled his hood up and pulled the strings tight - that was much better. Warm and fuzzy inside, unrecognisable on the outside. Or it would have been if he didn't always wear parkas and people knew who he was.

He fought his way through without incident, and the crowd was thinning when he heard what sounded like a kindergartener yelping. He glanced to his left - someone Kenny recognised as Skeeter, a drunk from the bar who he was convinced was related to Craig's dad, appeared to be trying to steal a young boy's backpack.

That struck something with Kenny. The thing was, despite his previous actions that night, he did have a firm sense of right and wrong. He'd rationalised the stealing as "it's going to be stolen anyway, but our family needs it more than most people so I might as well take it." It was flimsy, he knew, but nobody was going to ask.

Weighing that up against mugging a five year old boy who was probably just in the worst possible place at an even worse time just for a backpack that was likely full of school stuff, there was a very clear line in the sand somewhere there. Skeeter was on the wrong side of the line, not even in the desert any more – fuck it, he was hiking around Arctic tundra punching polar bears in the face.

Kenny sighed, squared himself, tried not to think about how painful this could end up being if he fucked it up, and took a run towards Skeeter, jumped up and smashed the guy's face into the wall. Skeeter let out an umph! and flailed behind himself for a few seconds - Kenny promptly reacquainted his face with the wall again. And again. The fifth attempt did the trick. Skeeter collapsed. Panting a bit, Kenny returned the bag to the kid. "You alright?" he asked.

"Thanks!" he replied. Kenny recognised him now - he was Ike's friend Filmore.

"You want me to take you home?"

"Sure." Kenny picked Filmore up and took him towards his house. Kenny knew where it was - he'd had to wait for Kyle to pick Ike up from his house a few times. The plan was rather undercut, though, when the red and blue lights appeared at the end of the road. Kenny turned around - the crowd was hurrying in their direction, with flashes of blue and red behind them too.

"Oh..." Kenny pondered what to say at the arrival of actual competent police who didn't hold to the maxim of "if you can't beat them join them" then not even attempt to beat them. The word came to him naturally: "Fuck."

A voice came over a megaphone. "DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY OR WE WILL USE FORCE." On top of that there was a line of riot police in front of the lights. Kenny had no intent of being batoned and pepper sprayed while there was a kindergartener in his care, but there wasn't any easy way out. He looked around, desperate to get away before the riot guys got to him.

There was a back alley on the left - that'd have to do. Kenny pulled Filmore onto his back, hoping he wouldn't crush the contents of his backpack too much. Two of the riot guys broke off at the sudden movement and charged them. That wouldn't have been so bad if the alley hadn't been a dead end. Kenny swore again.

There was a door. Kenny kicked it. Nothing. He kicked it again, but it only served to hurt his leg. He turned back to the end of the alley, but didn't want to risk anything. There was a large bin that looked like a good hiding place, but it reeked. Kenny instead did the idiotic thing and made for the drainpipe next to it. "Hold on," he warned Filmore - then he started climbing.

It started off well, but the trouble with carrying even the weight of one person, let alone two up a drainpipe was that unless one had some impressive upper body strength there was a decent chance you could fall off. Kenny was exerting himself far more than he should have, and it was taking all his concentration to not wear out.

What didn't help was the riot guys rounding the end of the alley and screaming "HALT!" Kenny didn't - instead, he panicked and let go of the pipe, fell back, bashed his legs on the side of the skip and fell into a nice big cushion of waste.

He pushed Filmore under, then dove under himself. He heard the cops talking.

"You going to fish them out of there?"

"Fuck, no! It's filthy in there!"

"Well I'm not doing it!" There was a few seconds of silence. "Ah, fuck them, they can stay in there, I don't care. Come on, let's beat some people up." Kenny heard them tramping away. He didn't have the strength left to climb out, though. Climbing up a drainpipe wasn't the best idea.

He heard Filmore speak. "Can we go home now?"

"Not just yet, Filmore..." Kenny said exhaustedly. "Can you wait a few minutes?"

"I want to go home!" Kenny predicted a tantrum coming along.

"Alright!" Kenny grabbed the edge of the skip and hauled himself up, glanced around, then fell back into the skip as his arms gave way. "Okay... Hold on to me again, would you?" Filmore did so and Kenny, kicking with his legs, hauled themselves over the edge of the skip, then fell onto the ground, panting.

"I... I've got to work on this," he panted into the floor. Filmore didn't hear him for the face of the stunned police officer who was taking a leak against the door that Kenny had failed to kick open.

"Kenny?"

"HEY!" That got Kenny moving again. He scrambled up and ran towards the end of the alley. He almost skidded on the way out, thanked whichever god had been having fun with him with the whole skip thing for growing the fuck up and moving the police away, and ran towards his house, closely followed by the police officer, screaming at them to stop. He ran through fear more than anything - not so much fear for himself, he could always force the cop to kill him. It was fear of getting Filmore into trouble.

More than that, his family weren't exactly unknown to the South Park police. He really didn't want to give them an excuse to put a surveillance van outside their house all day. Plus he had in the past done quite a few crimes, mostly during his shenanigans with Kyle, Stan and Cartman. He'd always tried to limit it to things that needed to be done because they were the right thing to do, but of course there was the occasional accidentally burning the school down too.

All the running was wearing Kenny out. He didn't have the sort of diet that allowed for extended periods of exertion – as much as not having enough food at all was a problem, it wasn't even the right kind of food for long distance running. He regenerated at a healthy enough weight but the fat to muscle ratio, while not in the same star system as Cartman, was a bit too high for this sort of thing. Add a twenty kilogram child and several more kilos of foodstuffs on his back and that could very easily make catching him about as easy as shooting fish in a barrel used for storing physically disabled fish and using a grenade launcher from a position directly above the barrel. Basically it would be a bit unfair.

They were passing over the bridge between the city centre and the outskirts where everyone lived. At the precise worst time, a cop car came from the other direction. The sirens blared and the lights started flashing the moment the driver saw the chase going on. Kenny panicked and skidded to a halt. He heard Filmore start crying.

"Oh, shit..." Kenny considered options. He could turn back, try to outrun the cop or otherwise lose him, then go to the next bridge about a half mile upriver. That didn't seem like the best idea, though - Kenny was almost completely spent and the officer, who unfortunately was not a sugar addict who couldn't run five metres before getting a ticket to a cruise on the SS Heart Attack, seemed ready for more running.

Alternatively he could keep going the way he was going, dodge the car and break for home. That was an even worse idea. The bridge was narrow enough that the cruiser could block them without too much manoeuvering and Kenny didn't want to do any more clambering, mostly because his arms still felt ready to drop off from the whole drainpipe thing.

Kenny turned again and looked at the river. His gaze locked there for a few seconds. Now, that was an idea. It would be cold, and Kenny wouldn't be able to swim too well after running with a child on his back, climbing with a child on his back, bashing his shins and generally being exhausted, but he suspected that his pursuers wouldn't be too eager to chase them into freezing water. It was a stupid idea, but of the stupid ideas he'd had in the last couple of seconds it was the least stupid. And Filmore's screaming was getting ever so slightly annoying.

It'd have to do. "Hold on," he warned. He felt Filmore's grip tighten. He took a glance either way - the car was speeding towards them and the cop on foot had his pepper spray out. That was enough - Kenny turned to the barrier of the bridge and took a deep breath, once again bracing himself.

Then he vaulted the barrier and they both fell into the river.