Author's Note: Guess who's back and with another installment? The sequel to Fiends is here at last and I have to give a good amount of credit to CherrySlim who without her, I wouldn't have been able to come up with a plot for this. Keeping what that plot is close to the chest, like always as before, I'm going to need a few OCs to help me tell it. Same as with Fiends, if you didn't tell me or let me know out right that I have your permission to use your OC from the last fic, please resubmit them for this story. For those who haven't, here's your chance to submit. I will warn you right here and now, just because you submit does not mean you're automatically in and here's the reason: I have trouble working with too many characters. That and quite a few from Fiends gave me their permission to reuse their OCs. As of now, Charlie, Sunny, Kyra, Brianna, Gwendolyn, Mari, Bonnie, and Brittany are who I'm still using, along with Bain naturally. So, spots will be extremely limited, moreso than with other fics. I do have a request: I'm interested in doing a subplot that involves a female character who is attracted to Kyle. Normally I wouldn't put that out there but I'm really want to be able to do this one. Other than that, no guarantees. That means submitting also puts your OC at risk of death. I'm more than willing to kill off characters, even my own, and that also includes canon characters.
The form's at the bottom but if you want to get a sense of my writing style, read the following "prologue." For those joining us, the time frame is senior year, and if you want a better idea of where this will go, read
Stranger in those Homicidal Eyes and Fiends. For now, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Sarah Palin.
Warning: language, disturbing imagery
Guess Who's Back
Grimy and rusting pipes. Filth stricken walls. Scuffled and smudged floor. Dim lighting that flickered occasionally. Store-bought chains wrapping around an all-too-soft human body. A pair of glasses that would normally be perched on a cute, button nose lay shattered and crushed near a creaky chair that held its prisoner.
This is all what the woman woke up to as the fogginess of unconsciousness slowly released her from its tendrils.
There was no recognition in those dark hazel eyes and that prompted fear to slowly cloud them as she tested her restrains and found no merciful grip. What had happened? Where was she? Shouldn't she be at a Tea Party rally, fanning the flames of a movement that was to save this great country from being corrupted by the covetous Liberal rats?
Wait…she couldn't breathe! Oh God, she was suffocating! Something was over her mouth, gagging her and she couldn't breathe! Oh, dear Lord, Jesus, she was dying here! She was—wait, her nose! Nothing was covering that and so sweet oxygen entered her lungs as she slowly calmed herself down. She was okay now, she could breathe. It was okay.
A dripping sound, something her mind hadn't recognized right off the bat but there it was. This dirty place was in so much disrepair…
Was this some kind of Saw thing? Nothing but sadistic gore porn, that. Oh, if only that blasted liberal media could be salvaged for the righteous conservative audience.
She made another effort of struggle but found herself still in square one. These blasted chains! Why wouldn't they release her when she had done nothing to them? When she got out of here, she was going to find out who manufactured these things and send them an angry note, telling them that they really needed to start making some kind of consumer chains where a normal person could break out of them if they happened to be wrapped in them like she was.
Yeah, that would show them.
"You know, I expected more of a panic out of you," a voice spoke, startling her. She looked up and away from her predicament and found someone leaning against a wall, not caring that he had no idea where that wall had been. He had been right there in front of her all this time and she hadn't noticed him there. Hey, maybe he was there to help her!
She knew that her faith in Jesus and God was being rewarded!
She squirmed in her bindings, making as much noise with her mouth as she could to try and get this savior of hers to come over and free her. However, the man remained where he was, leaning against the wall and making no effort to come to her aid. He just watched her, doing nothing but standing there.
Hello! She needed help! Damsel in distress, right over here! Pick it up buddy!
"I never thought you looked like a soccer mom," the man commented, still leaning against that damn wall. "In fact, before you were tapped, I didn't even know you existed. Hmfph, what were they thinking, electing a woman to be a governor? Hah. I'd think it was a joke if it hadn't already have happened. Still, not surprised you quit halfway through."
What was he, a fan? She'd give him her autograph if that's what he wanted. Enough with the diatribe, get her out of here!
"A lot of people out there think you're stupid," the man continued, disregarding her distress like it was trivial, which it wasn't! "I know better. I know what you are. You're not stupid, you just have problems translating your thoughts into speech, just like our 43rd president. No, what you really are is a sociopath. The way you used to suck up to certain media faces then stop talking to them altogether, the books coming out about you, your bitch of a daughter, always having to be in the spotlight like somebody I know and loathe with my entire being. I think I'm closer to know who the real Sarah Palin is than anybody."
Sarah glared at the man, really disliking the criticism. He didn't know her! It was just the media twisting her words around into something else entirely! Wait a minute, was he a member of the media? Did he kidnap her? Oh, when she got out of here, she was going to sue him for every penny he had. She'd show him just who he was messing with!
"It's not surprising, politics has always been a magnet for sociopaths and those who have sociopathic tendencies," the man chuckled darkly. "'Take everyone with sociopathic tendencies out and the ranks of politicians would be perilously thin.' I heard someone say that once."
He was one of those liberal nuts, trying to being all philosophical. Pretty pathetic if you asked her. Heck, you wouldn't even have to ask her! She'd tell you regardless!
"But you aren't a politician anymore," the man say as he pushed himself away from the wall, stalking over to her. "You don't hold any political office, are not part of any government or government agency. What are you then? Well, with the way so many people know your name and face and those stupid books, you are what the rest of the world calls a celebrity. That's right, a bag of meat that stands in the spotlight for a short amount of time until they're torn down viciously by society, their lives an ever evolving joke that doesn't end even after death."
Sarah watched this man warily as he drew closer and closer to her with every word he uttered. She couldn't hold in her surprise though. Sure he was all dark and intimidating (also someone who didn't know when to shut up and had a horrible sense of fashion) but he was just so…so…
Short.
Swear to God, he was short.
Sadly, the same could not be said about the large knife he took out and place near her throat.
His eyes were glittering with malice (was it just her or were his eyes fucked up?) and she swore she was looking straight through a portal to Hell. That's right, Hell with a capital H. Her indignation was slowly turning into something else and the bravado she once had was not there for her any longer.
Way to ditch her, you pussy indignation.
"What's wrong, you look frightened," the short, as in really short, man said, giving her an innocent look. "Where's the fire that keeps that tea kettle boiling? Is it the knife? I can make that disappear so you don't have to worry about it."
The knife pulled away from her and she found she could breathe easier now. At least, she used to because without warning, the knife was stabbed right into her thigh. She screamed in pain and agony but her cries were muffled by the tape that was stuck to her mouth.
"See, it's gone," the short man said as if he had accomplished something great. He slipped around her and out of her sight, his hands gathering her luscious brown hair that was always styled to fit her domesticated and professional look. Right now that hair drooped around her head with nothing holding it back except for the spidery fingers that were rounding it up.
Mercilessly, the hands tightened their grip on her hair and pulled down, forcing her head backwards so that now she was looking at the ceiling, the majority of which was blocked by the head of the short man. He was grinning down at her, enjoying every second of her pain.
"Is this as good for you as it is for me?" he asked rhetorically. "Well? Speak up."
He ripped the tape off her mouth, the skin stinging under the sudden assault of cold air. Damn that stung! Wait, she could use her mouth again! This was her chance to give him a piece of her mind…or not as she did not like the look he was giving her.
"Whatever it is you want, I'll give you it," she managed to croak out. "Just name it, it's yours. I just want to see my family again…"
"Hmm, no can do," the short man said apologetically though it was obvious that he was not sorry whatsoever. "You see, there's nothing more I love to hear than the begging screams of an attention-whoring bitch as she wails in agony. There's nothing in this world that, coincidentally enough, an attention-whoring bitch like yourself could give me to make me 'accidentally' leave the lock on your chains open."
He reached over her shoulder, his hand trekking downwards and her fears began to rise. Oh, he was going to rape her! She was too innocent and pure and—cocksucking, motherfucking HELL!
Instead of heading for her crotch like she feared he was, the short man grasped at the knife handle and tore the blade out of her leg. Stained with blood, her blood, the dim light glimmered off of the blade with a macabre beauty.
"Now, get ready to use those vocal cords of yours," the short man warned her. "I want to hear you scream as loudly as you can. Don't worry about holding back; no one is going to hear you."
The knife stabbed downwards, this time ripping into her shoulder. Without the tape gagging her, she did as she was instructed, screaming and shrieking as loud as she could.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
Her assailant didn't hold back, pulling the knife out of her body only to stab her with it again and again, his eyes wide and filled with the same kind of joy a child would have opening Christmas presents.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH! AAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEP!"
What?
Bain's eyes snapped open, his room bright with the light of the rising sun. He stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything but hearing that annoying beeping of his alarm clock.
A violent slam on the snooze button and the device shut up, leaving him in silence. Instead of sitting up or even attempting to get out from under the covers, Bain remained laying there, staring straight ahead but not really seeing anything.
The last traces of the dream were slipping through his grasp but really, he only wanted to hold on to a few details. Whatever his subconscious had conjured up, it was taking back but by now he had a fair idea of what visions he had entertained whilst in dreamland.
Finally, he stretched an arm out and snagged the notebook that rested unassumingly on the night stand. He turned onto his back and opened the notebook, flipping through the pages rapidly, skipping over various notes and plots that had not been attempted just yet. Stopping on one page, he gripped a mechanical pencil and pressed its lead tip against the page, marking downward to leave a tally.
Sarah Palin: III
Hers wasn't the only name on the list. Others included Jane Adams, Hilary Clinton, Nancy Drew, Susan B. Anthony (whom had the most tally marks), Margaret Thatcher, Miley Cyrus, and as a recent addition Michelle Bachmann.
Yes, it was a tally of how many dreams he had of torturing and mutilating various historic and high profile women. He really had nothing else better to do with his time.
Closing the notebook and setting it back into its proper place on his nightstand, he finally sat up, blinking blearily like he had just woken up a second ago and not a few minutes. The light coming through the window was a prime sign that it was indeed day and he had to do a few "errands" today while he still could. Thus the alarm clock that interrupted the closest thing he had to wet dreams.
It would serve as practice, he mused, once Spring Break came to a close and it was back to the final stretch of senior year. Back to the grind stone, finishing up classes, receiving letters from prospective colleges, and suffering the company of the morons he had to endure on a daily basis.
Such was life. Well, if he had to be misery's bitch, then he was going to find a bitch of his own so that he could put them out of their misery. Misery loves company and whatnot.
Finally getting out from the bedcovers, he headed for the closet, snagging his black trenchcoat along the way.
Author's Note: Charming, wasn't it? According to the poll I put up for Fiends, asking for the most popular character (and then forgetting to close it), it was this guy who got first place with eight votes. And it is this guy from which your OC may have to suffer with, hence the high probability of death. So, for those not put off by everyone's favorite homicidal, sociopathic OC, the submission form is below. Space is limited and it will take longer than usual for the next chapter to be posted. Still working out a few kinks with the story and having a better idea of who I'll be using with change the game plan. Try to stick with the parameters below, I don't want the whole lifestory but just enough info to accurately depict the character. I'm not a mind reading so I don't know who the character is or could be. Also, the LESBIAN/MUFFDIVER question is for females only. What are they? Two groups of girls working against one another to grab the loves of their lives, even if it means sabotaging the other group. Want a better idea of who they are, once again Fiends has the answers. On a last note, the more original the character, the more likely they'll be selected. Until next time, submit and wait for the fireworks to begin.
Name:
Gender:
Appearance:
Clothing:
Personality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Friends:
Enemies:
Crush:
Basic History:
For girls only - LESBIAN or MUFFDIVER:
Other: