A/N: Alright, so this fanfiction is set in Kenny's perspective. In future chapters there will be a few OCs because the whole plot is that South Park blew up, and Kenny needs to find a way to stay dead. I don't know if this is very good, honestly I think it kinda sucks and its really mostly angst, whatever. I thought it was a cool idea and decided to roll with it. I hope you like it! :)
My eyes fluttered open, it was deathly quiet. Probably because everything and everyone was dead. I felt around on my end table, quickly picked up the gun that was placed there. I picked it up with ease and held it to the back of my head. I pulled the trigger and before the rest of my vision went black I set it back on the table. This wasn't unusual, I had been doing this ever since we blew up the whole town. I do it straight when I wake up, it's so quiet, I can't stand it. The day the town blew up started off as just a regular day in South Park. Cartman was talking about something that I didn't care to listen to, he always rambled on about offensive shit, and I wasn't having any of it that day. Kyle was getting progressively more angry at him. I vaguely remembered the mayor having a meeting the night before. She was talking about accepting some refugees into the town. Cartman must've been pissed about that. He's a dick and deeply racist, but I wasn't too thrilled about the new people coming either. I didn't dislike them because of race or anything, but where would they live? What would they do? South Park was pretty small and didn't really have that many job opportunities, or opportunities at all. I didn't know that they wouldn't have to worry about any of that because of what was about to happen. In hindsight, the refugees were the ones damaged the most, they must have been so hopeful for a new life in America. It's sad to think that just seconds after they were granted new opportunity, their lives were taken away from them.
"We need to find a way to stop them from living in OUR TOWN!"
"Shut up, Cartman! They're going to bring so many new things to this place! Culture and… and… I don't know, probably other things too!"
"See, you can't think of a single good reason for all those terrorists to come in here."
"You've committed more terrorist acts than some of those refugees have!"
"Yes, Kyle, but I'm white. I can't be a terrorist."
"You're so fucking stupid!"
Kyle was fuming, so Stan reasoned that it was a good time to bud in. Before the two murdered each other.
"Even if I wanted to do something, that's really none of our business anyway, it's not like we're in the government or anything. What power do we have to stop them from coming?"
"Well I'm gonna make it part of my business! I have my own power. I have authority! They WILL respect it!"
I completely tuned out the rest of his babbling, I think that Stan tuned him out as well. We gave each other a look, he knew saying anything was pointless and so did I. Kyle obviously didn't give up his protest, he had a hard time ignoring Cartman's incredibly offensive and obscene antics. I respect that. I think part of Kyle believed that he could knock some sense into Cartman if he tried hard enough, make him just the tiniest bit sympathetic to anybody. I think that Kyle refused to believe that trying to argue with a sociopath like that was going to bring him no result. Which meant day after day, they would get into screaming matches. The bus arrived and we had a normal school day. Cartman kept making phone calls, which I can only assume were part of his purchasing and placing of the explosives.
Nobody realized the extent of Cartman's plan. I'm not even sure how he got the explosives. But I do know how he was tricked into believing that the explosives could cleanse the town of only minorities. A lot of people online liked to trick him. It's not like it was very hard, he accidentally became a catamite after trying to make male friends online. After digging through the dark web, Cartman probably encountered some website that advertized that their explosives would only kill a race of the user's choice. He must've been too dumb to realize that that's not really possible. And the advertiser must not want return service, because the people buying their product have a high likelihood of blowing themselves up.
When the town met in the center to welcome the newcomers, Cartman was super excited. Of course that sick fuck was excited about genocide. The rest of the day was pretty normal, until when the busses started bringing all the new people in. They started to get off the buses, people were shaking hands and seeing their new home. Cartman decided that was the best time to blow them up. Again, I don't know how he bought them, or how he arranged them around the town as well as he did. But whatever that crazy son of a bitch did, well it did a hell of a lot of damage. I doubt he did it by himself, he could've had someone working with him who's true plans were to blow up the town. Over the years we've created a lot of enemies down here in South Park. I wouldn't be surprised if any of them wanted to destroy this horrible place. I remember when the explosion happened. It wasn't all that new to me, I've been blown up before. This time it was different, everyone was being blown up. There was beeping for a solid ten seconds, and then, eruptions blasted from everywhere. God, the screaming was horrible, it was so loud. The explosions tore through every person and every building. I was one of the first to die, as per usual. But I think part of my consciousness stuck around for the downfall of my home.
(A/N: I didn't know how Hell would be run with Satan being dead, so I'm just going to pretend that he's not dead, cool?)
When we all got to Hell, Satan thought it over, and decided to create a replica of South Park in Hell.
"You practically torture each other anyway. Plus, I can send other people down to South Park and you guys will do the job for me."
His plan actually made a lot of sense, nobody in South Park is really happy, and it's probably because of each other. I was a little hopeful, my mother was dead so how would I be able to come back to life. I really believed that the curse was over, I needed to believe it was over, everyone I cared the tiniest bit about was dead. But, obviously, the curse was not lifted. I woke up the next morning in what was left of my house, and to the smell of smoke. I was pissed. I tried to rationalize, maybe Satan was faking it and this was some torture tactic. Make me believe that I've come back again. I knew that was ridiculous, being dead feels different. I decided to walk around the ruins of the town, to see if anyone was still alive, if we forgot about anyone. It would suck to be that person. Before I could go any further in my search for someone, I came across what used to be Jimbo's Guns. Inside there were two guns that weren't completely destroyed. I took the smaller one, and rummaged around the rubble to get as much ammunition as I could find. As soon as I collected an adequate amount, I went back to where I woke up, put all of the ammo into a dresser drawer that was on the floor, and I shot myself. First time out of many. I didn't always go to Hell, sometimes I'd see a bright light and then I'd wake up without any form of afterlife. It was a risk I was willing to take, every time I die is a chance I get to see Karen and my friends again. That's why day after day. I'm willing to shoot myself. It seems pretty pointless, because when I'm in Hell, I act the same as I did before the explosion. I don't talk very much, unless I have something funny to say, and I don't really come up with much of my own ideas, just follow everyone else. I guess that's just who I am.
Anyway, my vision went black, I really hoped I didn't miss that time. It happened a couple times before it took so long, incredibly annoying. The descent to Hell was the same as usual, they stopped sending demons to greet me the third time I died, it's just fire now. I walked straight home and met Karen, she was fine, everything was as usual. Cartman was making plans to help torture people, Stan was still in denial of his own death, and Kyle was, well he was pretty quiet. I guess dying does that for you. He wanted to act as if everything was still the same but it really wasn't. Kyle was too smart to be in denial, but he wasn't ready to deal with the idea of being in Hell. Plus, he really didn't like the idea that South Park was really so bad that Satan added it to Hell. He probably was mad that his beliefs weren't true either. Nothing interesting happened, there was a new student at school, but it didn't really matter, everyone acted the same.
The next morning I woke up, reached for the gun, placed it and pulled the trigger. It clicked. There weren't any bullets in it. I reached into the drawer, it was empty too. I ran outside and through the street. I needed to get to Hell. My mind was racing. I can't stay here alone. I can't be all alone. I scoured the whole town for any bullets, but I couldn't find any. I ran across burned skeletons of people I knew, scorch marks on asphalt that must have come from the bombs, or whatever they were. As I ran for my death, I thought about using a knife or something of that type, that would be sustainable, I wouldn't have had to keep replenishing ammunition supply. Before I could go searching for them I was washed over with a big wave of exhaustion. Goddammit, I can't exist like this. I can't keep doing this. I need to find a way to die, for real. I need to find another immortal. I need to stay alive for a little while longer, just so I can finally rest. I don't want to wake up here anymore. I can't wake up here anymore.