Disclaimer: South Park and all of its respective characters are the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I own only this story's plot and any original characters that may pop up from time to time. Also, I am making no profit from this story.
Warnings: This story will contain slash (boys love, yaoi, etc.) as well as violence, swearing, and, well, most of the things you would probably hear in a regular episode of South Park. The boys are intended to be between the ages of 16-18 here.
Prologue
Trent couldn't ever really remember having many visitors during his long stay in juvenile hall. Oh, his mother would come by occasionally, whenever she had nothing better to do and sometimes, very rarely, his elder brother might pop up to check on him, but he didn't think either of those really mattered since he could count the number of visits from both relatives on one hand. Not that it bothered him, Trent couldn't recall a time when he had been close to his mother and there was only so far a brotherly bond would go.
So, the surprise that came from hearing he had a visitor wasn't all that out of place. At first, Trent had thought it might be his brother, considering all he'd been told was that 'some guy was here' to see him. However, the dark-haired youth he'd found sitting in the small room was definitely not Toby and it took Trent only a moment longer to realize just who the boy was.
Even now, Trent still wasn't quite sure how the so-called 'son of Satan' had found him, but he was sure that whatever reason the boy had for wanting to see him, it couldn't be good. Then again, if he bothered to think about it, any reason for the demon-boy showing up couldn't exactly be called ideal. Damien was, after all, known for popping up only when he wanted something and, more often than not, that something never turned out to be beneficial for anyone.
Other than Damien, that is.
Which led Trent back to his original dilemma. Just what did Damien want with him? He supposed he could have simply asked him, but even he didn't think that would be such a good idea. After all, if he didn't ask, he couldn't really get involved with whatever the boy wanted. That, in turn, meant he could continue serving out his completely undeserved sentence in juvenile hall in peace.
"Come now Trent, how long are you going to continue ignoring me?" Damien said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the pair ever since Trent's arrival. "I daresay, its rude to deny your guest at least the basic pleasantries. You act as if I'm here to deliver a death sentence." A small chuckle followed the words, as if a joke had been shared and Trent had completely missed it.
Eyes narrowing, the blonde studied the other who sat across the table from him, as if debating on whether or not he should trust him. Though he had spent a good part of his life within these walls, he'd heard about Damien from the newer boys and though he was unsure of how much of that information was fact and how much merely exaggeration, he knew one thing; any boy that could set someone on fire or turn another person into some animal was not a boy he wanted to mess with.
Still, he supposed the quickest way for getting the boy to leave, would be to actually speak to him.
"What do you want?" Well, so much for not getting involved. Trent had never been known for his conversation skills, and truthfully, he knew that was the question Damien wanted to hear. Or, at the very least, a variation of it. This assumption was confirmed when he saw a small, yet pleased, smirk work its way onto the others face.
"I can see that talks of the weather and daily goings on are not your forte. No matter, I suppose getting right to it will work." He paused then and, glancing toward the door, studied the spot for a long moment before turning back to Trent, the smirk widening. "I have come to ask for your help. Tell me Trent, do you happen to remember a boy named Kyle Broflovski?"
Of course he remembered Kyle Broflovski. He remembered all of those little lying punks, how could he not? They were the very reason he was back in this place. Wondering then if Damien was merely toying with him, Trent snarled and leaning back, gave the other a dark look.
"That's a stupid question and you know it."
"Yes, of course you remember him. Well, you see the reason I'm here is because I would like to offer you a chance to repay Kyle for his, ah, help in your current living arrangement." The words flowed from him easily, as if he were merely recounting what he'd had for lunch earlier, and if he noticed the way Trent's body seemed to go very still, he chose not to draw attention to it. "You see, Kyle has something that I want and, I need you to help me get it."
"Why?" Trent asked, not entirely sure of how he should react to the news he'd just received.
Damien lifted a hand, eying his nails for a moment before he began to pick at one, gaze sliding back toward Trent. "You hold a grudge against Kyle and his friends. I should think that would be reason enough for you to want to help in my getting rid of them." Finishing with his nail, he shifted and leaning forward, chuckled. "It would also ensure you'd never again have to look at these walls."
Oh, that got Trent's attention.
Sitting up straight now, Trent frowned and eying the boy in front of him carefully, swallowed, forcing his next words out. "You can get me out of here? How? In case you didn't know, I'm not going back to society any time soon." A hint of bitterness followed the words, from what he was sure was due to the fact he was having a false hope dangled in front of him.
Raising an eyebrow, Damien chuckled. "Oh Trent, have you forgotten who I am? Rest assured, I can get you out of here and, all I ask in return is that you come work for me. I promise, it won't be without its rewards." A simple answer, full of promise and yet, there was something just behind those words; something dark, that should have served as a warning.
He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was a mistake. A trap, carefully laid and that with just one word, he would fall right into it. Still, there was that small possibility of freedom and revenge that was now staring him directly in the face. As he watched that pale, oddly delicate-looking hand extend toward him, Trent saw two paths ahead. Everything in him screamed to take the one away from those dark eyes, to turn away and deny the demon-boy what he had come here for.
Sadly, Trent had never been very good with warnings.
