Author's Note: My second entry into the South Park fandom, this time instead of a one-shot a full fledged story. What is it about? Well, you all will just have to sit down and read to find out. Now, I am accepting OCs so if you want to generous donate yours, fill out the form at the bottom but please try to stick with it. There is such a thing as information overload, after all. Anyway, I'm looking at a whole different approach to the amount of OC stories that have been popping up on the site, a new spin on a used plot so to speak. Just know I make no guarantees so reader, and OC owner, beware. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warnings: language, adult themes

Sowing Evil

It was incredibly dark out on this fine night in the middle of Colorado.

That was the thought of the stoic driver as he sped down Highway 34, heading west with his slumbering companion in the passenger seat. The driver's eyes flickered over to observed the sleeping female, slouched in her seat and buckled up. It was only for an instant but there wasn't any fondness in that look.

No, the driver supposed, the girl wasn't willingly unconscious and you could tell by the odd puncture mark in her neck. She was still alive, mind you, just a little bit of tranquilizer to keep her asleep and docile. The driver didn't want any unwanted attention drawn to them, especially with what their intentions were.

Hmm, this seemed like as good a spot as any. They were close by so it wouldn't be too hard to lug their passenger further into the nearby woods and out of sight. And with the darkness of the night surrounding them, any random passerby would be hard pressed to spot the parked car, especially with its black painting. Just to be sure that no one inadvertently hit it, the driver pulled the vehicle further out onto the shoulder of the road and closer to the snow covered ground.

With the twist of the keys, the ignition was shut off and the driver was out of their seat, heading for the trunk to pull out a couple of items and sticking them in their coat. Slamming the trunk closed, the driver then approached the passenger side door and unlocked the door, opening it and leaning in to unbuckle their unconscious companion.

It was a bit of trouble to heft the girl out of the car seeing as how the driver wasn't the type that was used to a lot of physical activity but they managed, using their hip to shut the car down before heading away from the road and deep into the nearby woods.

Maneuvering their hands and arms, the driver adjusted their grip on the sleeping girl and a flashlight that wasn't flicked on until they were safely into the woods. The foliage overhead blocked out any light from the stars or moon, though it wasn't as if you could see them in the first place, and now the driver was in their element. Still a little further to go, though.

The minutes ticked by and the dead weight of the girl was starting to take its toll on them but finally the driver reached where they were heading and unceremoniously dropped the girl onto the ground next to a large pine tree.

Digging into their coat pockets, the driver pulled out a reel of fishing wire, humming a tune softly to their self as they fixed the girl's position up against the tree before proceeding to wrap the fishing wire around both the girl and the tree. They didn't pause as the girl began to moan, the tranq finally beginning to wear off but by now it was too late.

With a smirk forming on thin lips, the driver examined their work, eyeing the restrained girl closely and mentally checking off that the girl's torso and arms were wrapped tightly against the tree trunk. Taking out wire cutters, the driver cut off the fishing wire from the reel and began tying the end to the rest of the wire that wrapped around the barked plant.

By now, the girl was beginning to squirm, showing that she was slowly beginning to emerge from REM sleep. Bad timing, really, the driver reasoned. She was going to wish she stayed unconscious for what was going to happen to her…

Putting the rest of the fishing wire and the wire cutters away, the driver dug into their other pocket, pulling out an aerosol can and shaking it lightly as they stood back in front of the girl. Taking note of the wind, the driver placed their self just so before kneeling down close to the earth again. Keeping the spraying can close to the ground, the driver began to spray an oddly smelling mist onto the snow covered earth, moving the can in zig-zagging patterns and coating both the girl and tree, as well as the surrounding area, with the spray.

And now for the coup de grace; the driver pulled out a large, metal clad knife and moved in on the girl. Handling the blade expertly, they drug the knife blade against the girl's skin, blood seeping out of the shallow wound. The driver did this a few more times on different points of her body before wiping the blood on the knife on her clothes and pulling away, satisfied with their work.

The driver waited for a few more moments, as if waiting for something and during this time, the girl regained consciousness. However, it seemed some tranq was still in her system as she seemed to have problems using her voice to speak. The driver's smirk merely widened at this, not interested in any pleas for mercy the girl might make.

And then there was an ominous howl that cut through the dark silence and the driver's smirk was a full out evil grin. There was movement that could be heard heading towards them, signaling that the local predatory wildlife was checking out what the strange smell in the air was.

With a dark chuckle, the driver finally spoke to the girl, saying in a hoarse voice, "Take care." Not noticing how the girl's eyes seemed to glow as she struggled futilely against her bindings, the driver turned around and left, heading back to the car.

The driver hadn't even exited the woods when a triumphant howl could be heard and they knew that they had claimed another victim.

---

Hell was not the most friendly of places, what with the fire and brimstone in the air and all but it wasn't as horrible as everybody on Earth made it out to be. Of course, you had to spend some time here in the rugged, volcanic, charcoal-colored landscape first or visit regularly like a certain McCormick kid did in order to think like that.

For Damien, the hellish glow and smoky atmosphere was nothing new and something that he no longer paid attention to. The heat didn't bother him and he was immune to those that were actually suffering in this place. But what stuck out most about this place was that he found it incredibly boring. That's right, a place that had countless numbers of souls in it as well as violent geothermic activity and he was bored to tears by it.

Of course, it wasn't his prophesized time to go back up to the surface and do anything fun like in that Omen movie, which was a bit overrated in his opinion. As if he had his marking on the back of his head; that would just be too obvious! In fact, any time he got out of here was usually too short to his liking and before he knew it he was back in this pit.

So when one of the fledgling teachers barged into the large, empty enclave that Satan used as a "throne room," complaining about a problem up on Earth, he was all ears and curious, already trying to think of a way to use it to his advantage and get out of here.

Now, he usually had nothing but contempt for fledgling teachers, demons who were so pathetic that all they did was teach newer generations of demons how to be textbook demons, teaching them anything from torture to possession. This particular one he hated more than any of the others; basically, when he had been born his father assigned him under the tutelage of this particular demon and well, there was still some animosity between them.

He kinda blocked out most of what the old griper was complaining about but from the gist of what he got, it seemed like something was happening up on Earth. Something about routine possession lessons and how some of the fledglings were losing their victims. He didn't really care about what it was and more on how he could possibly benefit from it.

"This is a calamity!" the teacher was shouting melodramatically. "How are demons suppose to learn how to possess someone if they can't practice?! You must do something about this, my lord! My students must have their practice!"

From his dark throne, the Lord of the Damned, the Fallen Angel known as Satan, stared down at his demonic servant, expressionless. Then, in an exasperated tone of voice that resonated ire, the Ruler of Hell demanded, "Well what do you want me to do about it? Can't they just bring the bodies back to life?"

"They haven't gotten that far!" the teacher cried out. "The latest one was torn apart by a pack of wolves and it was his first possession to boot! Now he refuses to go back up and possess someone else! And he's not the only one! At this rate, we won't have any new demons who know how to properly possess someone! How else are we suppose to keep those child molesting priests on their toes?"

"Um, why don't you do it yourself?" Satan suggested.

The teacher looked aghast at that and Damien was struggling not to roll his eyes in scorn. The demonic bastard probably hadn't possessed someone in millennia and would just embarrass himself if he tried. And how stupid did a demon have to be to get himself torn apart by wolves? What was he even doing that got him in the situation in the first place?

"But-but my lord! Someone is purposely killing their hosts! And none of them can tell me who it was or what they looked liked!" the teacher whined, inadvertently catching the Antichrist's attention.

Oh? There was foul play involved, huh?

"It's probably another Van Helsing wannabe or something," the Prince of Darkness shrugged. "Either that, or some bible freak. Just teach them the protocol of how to deal with Pat Robinson and Billy Graham in addition to the regular possession classes."

"But this is the sixth time this has happened!" the teacher blurted out, obviously trying to get out of having to teach more than he wanted to, "And it's always been in Northern Colorado!"

Curiouser and curiouser…damn that Lewis Carroll and his fucking looking glass…

"Northern Colorado? Why does that seem familiar?" Satan pondered out loud before the proverbial light bulb lit up above his head. "Wait, isn't that place in Northern Colorado? You know, the place where all that weird shit happens?"

"South Park, Father," Damien spoke up for the first time, his voice still high pitched much to his annoyance and his red eyes also lighting up in recognition. "You had that fight with Jesus there, you know, the one you threw?"

"Oh yeah, now I remember!" Satan exclaimed excitedly, his deep voice rising up to an embarrassing tenor before going back to the deep resonating and intimidating tone. "It's probably just some fad going on there. No worries."

"Perhaps, but maybe it should be checked out, just in case," Damien suggested. "If it's nothing but a fad, then no harm. But if it's something else, then we'll have to deal with it."

"Not this again, Damien," Satan sighed, looking down at his only son. The large red man knew where his son was trying to go with this and he didn't have to be a mindreader to pick up on it early. "I don't want you going up there; it isn't the right time."

"But Father!" the Antichrist whined, "I'm bored! And why do I have to wait for that fucking prophesy anyway?!"

"Because you're not ready and it's too dangerous," his father replied instantly, sounding more like a housewife than the Prince of Darkness. It was embarrassing to be told that, especially in public…

"But what can the surface throw at me that I can't handle?" he demanded. "I'm more powerful than any other demon, excepting you, and it would take more than a cross and some holy water to hurt me! Plus, atheists are taking over the world! They can't harm me with spiritually, or at least with as much as they have now! Besides, what if Heaven finds out about this and does something about it? Then they'll have the credit and something else to hold over our heads!"

"Damien, this isn't a contest," Satan sighed, his voice sounding light and put out while he rubbed his temples. "There's nothing to be competing for. It's just some demons-in-training being foolish enough to get themselves killed. Stop over exaggerating the situation."

"But my lord! Something must be done!" the fledgling teacher cried out.

"Would you excuse me for a minute?" the Dark Lord finally snapped, looking every bit like the nightmarish monster that the Christians made him out to be. "I need to have a talk with my son…"

The demon gulped but did as he was told and scuttled away. Now the Dark Lord and his only child were left alone to have it out with one another, a battle of wills that the Devilspawn hoped would go his way.

"Damien, why do you want to go up to Earth so much?" Satan sighed, looking at his son questioningly. "It's not like it's an interesting place anyway."

"Father, I want to get out," the teenage-looking boy stated. "I feel like I'm being cooped up and torturing the same people over and over again kinda gets dull after a while."

"Why don't you try not torturing the sinners and have conversations with them instead?" Satan suggested, wondering just when his boy got so sadistic. He had to have gotten that from his mother…

"I tried that and that was boring," Damien scoffed. "It's not like they'll be able to say anything new."

"But you were so unhappy the last time I let you stay up there," Satan pointed out.

"Things change," the boy argued. "It's probably a different place now!"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but it isn't," the devil man replied. "If it's South Park, Colorado you're looking at, that place is still the same old hick town it was all those years ago. Nothing new about it."

"Father, look, this is a good opportunity for me," Damien began to argue, changing his tactics. "I can get some practice, figure out how mortals think and behave, maybe even get to annoy some Catholics while I'm at it. And there's that Eric Cartman kid you've been thinking about. I can at least judge what should be done with him while figuring out just who is killing our fledgling demons."

"If I agree, will you stop bugging me about going?" Satan asked, looking as if he was wanting to find anything to shut his son up.

"Absolutely," he agreed, crossing his fingers behind his back. He was evil incarnate; like he was going to honor any promise, pfft!

His father gave him a good long look before saying, "You'll have to take care of yourself; I'm not going to be getting you a house up there or feeding you. If you want to go that bad, you'll have to do without some things, including my help."

A bit peeved at this condition, Damien nevertheless agreed. He would think of something while he was up there, he was sure of it.

How hard was it going to be anyway?


Here's the OC form, fill out and send in either a review or a PM. Just as long as I can get the information.

Name:

Appearance:

Typical Clothing:

Personality:

Friends:

Enemies:

Crush:

Strengths/Interests:

Weaknesses/Flaws:

Extra:

Be descriptive but try not to give me any information that is redundant or overexplains. For example, if they have family, give a brief description but don't put in so much about them that it could take a whole new profile by itself. Don't mention anything about age since I will assume they will be about the same age in this story as the canon characters. Also, tell me if your OC is a native of South Park or moved there and when. The more OCs sent in, the sooner the next update, so get crackin'.