A/N: Now into our lovely cast.

Enjoy~

Only a year passed of sitting and waiting for new news to arise. Such a long amount of time to be without your family, such a short amount of time to come across something so terrible and horrifying to young minds.

It came without warning, nothing but a large bang in the dead of the dawn as the sky bled pink and red into the rich ground. Heads turned, eyes widened. They knew that sound from the inner depths of their childhood. It was unmistakable.

A gunshot.

Few ran to see what the noise was about. They were too afraid that the murderer was back for them. Too terrified that things were going horribly wrong.

As the others who ran to see what the commotion was, they could tell those others how very right they were. They ran into a body lying still in the middle of the road. One of the leaders of their group shakily knelt down, turning the body over to see just who it was. From what the others whom lingered behind, the crutches left splattered with blood beside him left no doubt as to who it was.

"Shit," one of them muttered as he brushed bloodied brunette hair back from his forehead. "Jimmy. Jimmy? Wake up, Man," he'd insisted, shaking his shoulder roughly. His eyes fell to the wound on the side of his head and he knew that it was a fruitless endeavor.

"Who...who would kill Jimmy?" one stepped forward beside him, a worried glaze overshadowing his solemn green eyes.

"I don't know, Kyle," he'd muttered, getting to his feet. They heard laughter not too far away and all of them looked over to see a group of five or six soldiers laughing, a gun held in the hand of one in the forefront.

Their shocked gazes quickly melted into fury.

"HEY!" Kyle shouted, stepping towards the men.

"Kyle, stop," the other grabbed his arm.

"No, Stan," he spat, quickly swiveling his head back to face the others. "The fuck are you doing?" he screamed.

"Kid was in the way," the soldier at the front smirked, twirling his gun in his hand. "He was blocking the view."

"The fuck gives you a right to kill anyone? Especially a handicapped person you assholes!"

"Kyle, stop!" Stan repeated, starting to drag him backwards. Kyle ignored him, managing to shake his arm out of Stan's deathly-afraid grasp. All of the group looking at the soldiers knew the looks in their eyes. This was their idea of fun. Things were going to spiral out of control and they all knew it.

"That's right, Kyle, better run along," one of the soldiers chuckled.

Kyle let out a furious growl through bared teeth, his eyes spiking with the need to do something, to taste blood for their sin.

"Kid, come on," one of the elder kids walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to get out of here."

"But...but they killed Jimmy!" he exclaimed, gesturing frantically to the boy's limp corpse. "We can't let them do that!"

"We don't have a choice, Kyle," he said with a firm gaze. "Now come on."

"Trent, they're fucking-"

"I said now," he said, a hint of anger in his gaze. Kyle fell short. A part of him in the back of his mind couldn't help but still be afraid of Trent Boyett in some way. Their history was long gone and passed with the loss of the parents and he'd become one of the kids to take lead, so he trusted him to an extent. But that didn't stop his inner anger and need to fight from emerging.

"But-"

"NOW, Kyle," he hissed, whirling him around and pushing him back towards the group. Another three shots were heard and screams echoed into the street. Both Trent and Kyle fell to the pavement, Trent choking for air and Kyle grabbing at his arm and screeching in pain. Stan dove down beside them both, turning sickly green at the sight of the blood spurting out from between Kyle's fingers and the wounds on Trent's chest and head.

Trent quickly fell still with a shuddery, angry breath as the soldiers just laughed with each other.

"Trent! Shit!" Kyle managed to scream out through a barrage of pained tears that cascaded down his cheeks.

"Come on," Stan shouted to the group. "Move!" he reached down and helped Kyle up, assisting him in running away from the assault.

They ran back towards their home, one of the crummy shacks built in the mess of what was once the town. They busted inside and their group of what was now five slammed the door shut behind them.

One of the older kids stepped up at the sight of Kyle falling down and crying as blood continued pooling down his arm.

"Wendy, get his arm taken care of," he'd said, staring in somewhat of a daze.

She jumped up and grabbed the first aid kit they had in a cupboard running over to him and kneeling down beside him. "It's going to be okay," she cooed as Stan helped tear off his orange jacket. She lifted up his t-shirt sleeve and grimaced. "Oh boy," she muttered. "Stan, knife and alcohol. Now."

"R-right," he'd stuttered, running off to find what she needed. As the group silently watched as she managed to dig the bullet out of Kyle's arm, they knew that this was only the beginning. Jimmy and Trent were going to only be the first of a string of casualties that plagued their town.

"Scott, what the fuck do we do?" the blonde rubbing Kyle's shoulder as he hissed in pain asked.

"Don't know, Ken," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We're not exactly...ready for this."

"I told you all dzees would 'appen," a voice appeared from the back of the room.

"Don't start, Christophe," Scott glared. "We have enough problems right now."

"Non," he stepped forward, a cigarette clutched lazily between his fingers. "I told you all and you chose to eegnore me."

"Well what exactly do you propose we do since you know so much about this whole thing?" Scott demanded.

"We fight," he shrugged. "Eet would not be 'ard. Dzhey are nodzing but weak lit'le prissy boys."

"With what, you French asshole?" the brunette leaning against the far wall scoffed.

"You stupid fat bastard," he chuckled. "Eet ees simple. We steal weapons and dzhen we fight back."

The group all looked between each other, conflicting gazes clashing with one another. Looks of concern, anger, bloodlust. It all came crashing on top of them in droves. He was right that they needed to fight. But they all knew the cold, hard truth: They were too weak for this. They were fighting the government, an army on their own home territory. This wouldn't end well.

"Tophe, I-I don't think we can," Kyle winced as Wendy bandaged up his arm.

"You took a shot dzrough dze arm," he stared at him with cold, brown eyes. "You can fight."

"Yeah, and Trent and Jimmy took shots through the head and look how wonderfully they're doing!" Stan snapped.

"Jimmy?" Scott blinked. "If they're willing to take out him of all people then...well the rest of us are fucked."

This thought lingered in the air for a few moments before Christophe sighed. "Look, we do not 'ave much time," he stated. "Dzey weell be coming for us. Obviously dzey 'ave abandoned dzeir mission of euhh what deed zhey call eet? 'Protection?'" he rolled his eyes.

A moment of silence passed between them all before Scott looked at them all tiredly. "He's right, you know," he said. "We've been stuck like this for a year and yet they still haven't managed to do anything as to their investigation or any shit."

"This is suicide," Stan shook his head.

"Better than being murdered," Kyle muttered, getting to his feet as Wendy sealed off his bandaging. "I'm with Christophe. We may not be able to do a lot, but there's a lot of us in this town still. We could start a rebellion and fucking get back at those bastards."

"Yeah!" Kenny stood up beside him. "I'm sick of living like this."

"Kinny, you poor piece of shit, you've always lived like this," the brunette stepped forward and sneered.

"Shut up, Cartman," he glared before looking up at Scott. "What should we do?"

Scott looked between them all and took a deep breath as his eyes landed on Christophe. "Gather up all the kids you can. We're going to start this rebellion."

That was two years ago. Two years of blood and guts, of fighting for what they believed was right as they always had even before these times.

However, not everyone was as into the battle as they had previously hoped. With the fighting came the loss of a full generation, the 'elders' as they had been proclaimed by the others. With their deaths came the foreseeable retreat of the younger generations, leaving but a few stragglers and a rather small rebellion group harboring in a small hidden cellar dug out by Christophe.

A group of only about fifteen kids. Fifteen kids who were just then stepping into the world of adulthood at ages 18 and 19, those who had been promoted to being those known as the elders through terrible means. Christophe had stepped up into Scott's place as they'd lost him. He'd proven to be nothing but ruthless when it came to fighting the opposition. As a trained marksman, it wasn't exactly a surprise to the rest of the team how cruel he could be when it came down to it.

He'd placed himself, Stan, Kenny, Craig, Token, and Clyde on the front lines at all times. Kyle and Cartman were for the most part with them on the field. However, Kyle was in charge of Intel with Gregory and his little brother, who was one of the only ones of the younger kids to stay in with the rebellion. Cartman, Tweek, and Butters were in charge of making sure supplies were regularly smuggled into their base for them to be able to continue their fight. Wendy, Bebe, and Rebecca were always on standby as the nurses of their group.

Other than that, they were alone.

A group of poor kids facing down an entire army with nothing but the weapons that they could find or make themselves. They found themselves on more than one occasion in a corner, only able to get out by a slight hair of a chance.

The government found them to be only a sliver of a threat. A bunch of kids that were too into their own dreams of escaping the damnable wall that surrounded them to stop them from killing men to get what they wanted. However, they saw them as small enough of a group that they had no real intentions of going after them. They knew that they didn't need to, because it never failed that the boys would come to them first.

They knew that they were basically running a kamikaze organization, one that put itself into the line of fire far too often with far too many unsatisfying results.

But it was all that they had anymore. The birds that flew over the wall reminded them that there was a world outside of what they had come to have to know and survive in. There wasn't going to be another chance to get out, they knew that the government wouldn't be making any progress with whatever they were even fighting for anymore.

Over time, they had all forgotten why they were there in the first place. The wall became the only thing that they knew, the one thing that they hated and wanted out of their way so they could become free as they had once been. The government loved fighting them, loved to show them just who was running that town. The rebellion loved showing them that they weren't just a bunch of drones and target practice for them to be beating down, that they had a purpose and they weren't going to stop until they achieved what they were there for.

It was a mess of blood and spit, nothing more than gunfire and smoke that settled around the city like a thick, arid cloud of filth. It was nothing more than fighting with only the cause of freedom on one side, the other nothing more than wanting to watch the other side fall.

No one knew who was right and who was wrong anymore. All they knew was that they had to fight. They were locked in a match for their lives, and over time, they knew that it would eventually find its purpose once more through the bloodshot eyes of that last shooter, who made everything finally come to its standstill.

A/N: Yes, Trent Boyett and Scott Tenorman had their cameos LOL

I love Jimmy's character. Have I ever said that before? Him and Timmy are badasses but...Jimmy wouldn't last long in this story regardless of what I did with him lol T_T

Anyway, thanks for R&Ring!