A/N: Based off of Linkin Park's album: A Thousand Suns

lol, hi kids I like drama stories and I don't want to write slash right now.

Also I miss you all. I can't find my muse with any of my dirty shit soooo we're gonna try this out :3

Hope you enjoy le prologue!

Where once was nothing but a small simple town now laid ruins spread across the cracked, barren land. Buildings showed signs of decay, pieces of brick and plaster laid in the streets, unattended to and forgotten.

Heavy, thick smog coated over the town, keeping it in a threshold of darkness and an overlying feeling of complete despair and desolation.

Where once was a bustling supermarket, a lively pond in the park, a basketball court full of children laughing and playing now remained completely silent; the air stoic to the effect of death. Occasional birds chirping through the air echoed throughout these areas, emphasizing the lack of human interaction.

It was scary. It was quiet. But to those who remained, it was still home.

Only three years had passed in the time that it took for the city to fall into shambles. Three years ago, one week's span of time.

No one knew what had happened still; how all the adults suddenly fell ill or found themselves murdered. There was no doubt that someone somewhere was behind it. Bodies lied in the street like speed bumps merely marking the pavement towards the innermost city. Shadows loomed off their decaying bodies in the setting sun, patches of souls smeared over the blacktop from their chilled corpses.

No one knew why or how. Young children found their parents lying at the bottom of the steps, either completely free of any signs of real harm or their throats completely severed open, dark rivers of ruby staining their once-proud homes.

Police were notified, they let it be known. However, unfortunately for them, they were adults as well and they soon found themselves on the victim's end of the butcher knife. It wasn't long before the slate was completely wiped, the last remaining adult managing to contact the National Guard before he himself was slain at the hands of the unknown.

So it led onto nights and nights of cold loneliness for those children left behind. Anyone over eighteen was dead and gone; leaving children to fend for themselves, for those children to take the hands of the infants and find themselves becoming adults themselves.

They all promised that they would stay together no matter what happened, they all said that they wee still a town; still a family.

However, as a special sanction of the guard came in, their family soon found itself lying in ruins similar to the town. As a large memorial service for those lost in the conflict ended, so did the feeling of completeness that the children felt as they clung to each other in comfort, in hope.

Those five and under were taken away from the city in large, gray vans, appropriately nicknamed the Death Vans by the remainder. No one knew what they did with those children. They could only hope that the babies, the toddlers, that they were sent to another town to find new homes and lives. But the glitter of challenge and joy sent throughout each of the soldiers' eyes were not one to find comfort in. They learned to fear that gleam, they learned to fear those men.

Not a week after they were brought in, the children found themselves being led into the innermost part of the city, completely leaving their homes in the outlying suburbs. They were forced into warehouses and makeshift shacks that the government built for them in merely hours.

Terrorism was a common word spat at them as they were stripped of their homes and their pets and their overall lives. The government thought they were evil, that it was a town conspiracy. But none of those kids would budge. None of them would step up and say that they had any information other than what they had seen.

They saw their parents dead. That was their story, filled with tears of anger, sorrow, and hatred towards the men questioning each and every one of them. That was their story and nothing more.

After questioning them all, their town became sanctioned. A large, stone blockade was built around their small little city. Keeping them in, keeping their existence a secret. It was the topic that brought in many a news story, but after the fifth one was shot down by the soldiers surrounding the children, the stories stopped. The protests came to a grinding halt. They were all but forgotten in less than two months, nothing but a mystery to the rest of the world, led off from main highways by false detour signs claiming that their was nothing more than a mountain that existed in that once-news worthy town.

The children became afraid, wary of their "protectors" as the government had so boldly proclaimed themselves as. They knew that something was definitely amiss in their town, whether it was a murderer still on the loose in the midst of them or if it was merely the government taking advantage of how weak and defenseless they were.

But they were children that had grown up in this town, and they knew how things tended to run their course.

Things would happen, lessons would be learned, and then everything would be back to normal in just a short matter of time. They could all sense, however, that this time was different. This time, they wouldn't be able to fall back into their monotonous routines at the nights end. They knew deep in their hearts that nothing could ever be the same again.

But still, they kept hope. It was the way they were raised by the parents, the uncles and aunts, the grandparents and the teachers that they had so tragically lost to the hands of some unknown force determined to make sure that the slate of the town was clean and pure of adult tyranny.

However, now a new adult force was forcing them to bow to their whims, despite all their claims of wanting nothing more to do than to make them happy and safe once again.

They didn't believe them. They believed in each other. It was the stature of that town. To stay together no matter what got in the way.

It was once proud. It was once gleaming with life. It was still a home. It was still South Park.

A/N: Lololol crappy prologue is crappy.

I'm trying to get this story going because I think getting away from slash will get me back into the writing mood. We'll see :3

Characters comin' in next go round.

Thanks for R&Ring!