To Love and Die In South Park

Thank you to all my reviewers! It's great that I get feedback, as it inspires me to continue!

Last chapter was through Stan's eyes (if you didn't guess), and Sam's eyes at the end. I think I'm going to have different POVs this chapter so its not so one-sided.

Also, I'm not using Microsoft Word, but the provided Doc Manager, so please tell me if I have any spelling/grammar mistakes! I'm looking out for as much as I can, but I don't usually catch eveything.

Anyway. Enjoy!


Chapter 2: Poetic Justice

"It's fine, Wendy!" Kyle protested as the brunette was examining his face and scrutinizing each mark.

He looked to Kenny, who was watching the scene with an amused expression.

Wendy tentatively reached out her hand, brushing her fingers against the bruise on his chin, pressing lightly. She gained a little more confidence, pushing harder until Kyle winced and Kenny laughed. She removed her hand, placing it over Kyle's still-healing scrape on his cheek from when Cartman had shoved him down after Kyle had punched the fat boy down and knocked him flat on his ass.

She raised her eyes from her inspection to Kyle's. "You're mom's gonna kill you if she finds out you've been in another fight. Not to mention one that you started."

She retracted her arm, holding out her purse and unzipping it, digging through its contents.

"That Fat-Ass had it coming!" Kyle argued. "You weren't there in History class. And he got an A for it too!"

"It was pretty bad," Kenny agreed. "But it is Cartman. He could've done a lot worse. And we don't know our grade yet."

"Dude, why didn't you just take the slide out if you did the PowerPoint, anyway?" Kyle snapped.

"He told me he'd kill me. And knowing Cartman he would," Kenny shrugged.

"And that's a threat how?"

Kenny shrugged.

Wendy paused, looking up at Kyle. "You two should stop fighting. I'll talk to him to go easier on you. Stop doing things in front of everyone. And you should know better than to stoop to his level, especially physically. The only reason he does this to you is because of your short temper."

She went back to searching her purse, Kyle rolling his eyes.

"Why do you defend him, Wendy? You of all people know how he is."

"Look, all I'm saying is...just be nicer, okay?" She looked up at him, pouting. "For me?"

Kyle sighed, rolling his eyes. "I guess I'm gonna be seeing him more anyway. But if he tries anything, I'm not just gonna take it!"

Wendy smiled, taking out a small black object. Kyle recognized it immediately, as Wendy often took it out to either examine herself in the small rectangular mirror or to apply the tan cream: foundation. Make-up.

"What's that?" Kyle asked accusingly, eyeing the compact as if it could contain a bomb.

"It's just going to be a little. To help conceal the marks from the fight," Wendy assured him.

Kyle stuck his hands out in protest as Kenny snickered. "I'm not wearing make-up!"

"It won't be noticeable, so just deal with it, you baby," Wendy muttered, rolling her eyes.

She took out the tan sponge, brining it to Kyle's face and wiping it on his chin, his still tender bruise. She pressed it as she applied it, causing Kyle to wince in pain.

She put more on the sponge, repeating the motion. She sighed in frustration the third time Kyle winced.

"Jeez, Kyle, take it like a man!" Kenny mocked.

"How many men do you know that put on make-up?"

"Point taken."

She did the same to his scrape, eliciting another wince though it was over more quickly than the bruise. Finally, Wendy stopped, putting the sponge back into the compact and handing it to Kyle.

"Look."

He took the compact, examining the marks. They were still visible to him, but not nearly as noticeable. The color in the bruise was covered and now only looked like a smudge and the scrape was almost invisible. He closed the compact, handing it to Wendy.

"You look beautiful, Kyle," Kenny snickered.

He glared at Kenny, then Wendy. "Thanks."

"Oh, stop your glaring. You're grateful and you know it." Wendy put the compact back in her purse. "But you know, if you ever do want some great make-up tips..."

"Wendy!"

"Jeez, I'm just joking, Kyle, relax!" Wendy giggled. "Don't get so defensive."

"Hm...I wonder why so defensive?" Kenny smirked.

Kyle rolled his eyes and smiled at his two friends.

"So, where are you headed?" Wendy asked, looking at her cell phone to check the time.

Kyle almost stopped, resisting the urge to smack himself on the forhead. "The DMV."

"In North Park at night? Alone? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"Oh, well, I was going to go with Stan," Kyle remarked, bitterly.

Wendy's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Kyle...Here. I'll go with you to the DMV."

"No way. You're not going to drop everything for me. You have plans already," Kyle protested.

"What about you, Kenny?"

"Sure. I got nothing better to do anyway," the blonde shrugged. "'Sides, I hear the girls got legs that go out to here..."

"No, it's fine. I can take Ike. He's been wanting to get out of the house anyway," he lied.

He knew that Ike wouldn't be home, but if he went with Kenny, he knew that he would probably try cheering him up and talk about today and stuff. Truth be told he didn't want anyone to go with him, and plus he wanted this trip to be as fast as possible and he wouldn't be going home at all until after he was done.

Wendy met his eyes, staring as if trying to see through him. Finally, she leaned back, sighed, and closed her eyes. Kenny watched him, his eyebrow raised as if trying to do the same.

"All right," she sighed, reluctantly agreeing. "But you call in case something happens, okay?"

Kyle nodded, smiling. "You're guys are awesome sometimes."

"Well, duh, we are," she replied sarcastically.

She turned and headed toward the parking lot, to her car. Kyle turned toward Kenny.

"You sure you don't want me to go with?" Kenny asked. "I could show you a great time."

Whether Kenny meant with random girls or himself, Kyle didn't know and didn't want to. He shook his head, smiling.

"I kinda wanna spend time with Ike. We haven't been seeing each other much lately. No offense, but it's bros before man-hoes."

Well, it was true that he wanted to spend more time with Ike. But it just didn't apply to today.

Kenny shrugged, giving up. "Whatever. Call if you change your mind."

"Thanks, dude."

Kenny turned to cross the street as Kyle continued straight. Of course, a huge truck happened to speed through the red light and run over Kenny.

It could've been his imagination, but he could've swore he heard, "Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!"

Half-laughing, Kyle gave his reply.

"You bastards!"

--

"Ms. Garrison," Sam offered between laughs, sipping the red Icee that they got from the convenient store.

Stan leaned back on the bench they were sitting on at Stark's Pond, his Icee already half gone and resting next to him. "Been our teacher since Kindergarten every year, minus a month or two. And that was Mr. Garrison until about fourth grade."

"Jesus Christ!" Sam exclaimed. "What, he was gay?

"For a while, yeah," Stan replied. "And then after the operation 'she' became a lesbian."

"Jeez, and I thought Denver was fucked up."

Sam took another sip, as did Stan. Sam was thinking of another person in South Park to name. It was fun for Stan to tell him about the people he had known for so long; it was interesting to watch Sam's reaction to all the weird stories of South Park. The people lived here for so long, they lost track of what 'normal' was any more.

"How about...that fat kid. Eric."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Cartman. Anti-Semitic, racist asshole. His mother who'll sleep with anyone raised him, but it's not really his mother since she's a hermaphrodite and she's really Cartman's father. He played with dolls until he was eleven, took a picture of Butters Stotch's penis in his mouth while Butters was sleeping, and just to get back at a kid named Scott Tenorman for stealing his sixteen dollars, he killed Scott's parents and fed it to him in a bowl of chili in the 3rd grade. There's a lot more, but that's it."

He looked over at Sam, whose mouth was wide open, speechless, and smirked.

"Y-You're actually serious?"

Stan nodded.

"Shit. That kid's psycho." Sam paused. "But if he's such an asshole to you and Kyle, why do you hang out with him?"

Stan paused, taking the chance to slurp the rest of his Icee to form a response.

"A lot of people ask that. Personally, I think it has more to do with his character. He may not be my favorite, but if not for Cartman, South Park would be totally boring. Cartman's the whole reason people like South Park so much, I think, because his character is...interesting. It clashes with the rest of us and I like it sometimes because I wouldn't be able to stand South Park without a little fighting. Besides, it's really funny sometimes when Kyle beats him up."

Stan paused, looking at Sam, who was drinking the last of his Icee with a loud slurp.

"Dude, that was totally gay." Sam smirked.

He leaned back, adjusting his baseball cap. "Hm...Cartman's partner? The one with the hood. You guys are friends, right?"

Stan nodded. "That's Kenny. He's cool. Me and Kyle are almost always partners and so Kenny usually gets stuck with Cartman. Let's see...he's from the West side, came from a pretty poor family. His parents were both drunks. He got a job--doing what, I don't want to know--and lives independently. Most perverted person I know. Has a...reputation. But he's the most laid-back person I know and is a really nice person. He's died...well, pretty much every day since I've known him."

"Died?"

"Yeah. He dies and then comes back to life. Usually in like an hour or two. Though there was the one time he died from muscular dystrophy. But I think he said it was because God wanted them to make stem-cells legal."

"He...dies?"

"I don't know how, but he does. And like every day. Usually he goes to Hell, unless Heaven needs him. I don't ask. And when he dies, I usually say 'Oh, my god! They killed Kenny!' and Kyle goes 'You bastards!' It's been a running gag since like twelve years ago."

"I think I'd have to see this for myself," Sam said incredulously. He leaned forward, thinking again. "How about...Kyle."

Stan paused, remembering the events today. Just thinking about Kyle right now made his stomach upset. He was nauseous at the thought of his best friend and his girlfriend. He decided to answer, but with just the facts.

"Jewish. Smart, but he's getting to be lazy lately, since his mother's always on his case. His brother's adopted from Canada. He's great at basketball, and he absolutely hates Cartman. He's usually pretty level-headed, and I've known him longer than anybody."

He paused, not letting Sam ask anything more. "Come on, it's getting dark out. We should probably head back."

Sam nodded, standing up. Both tossed their empty cups into the trash as they walked.

They walked in silence for a while as they left Stark's Pond.

"So, what about you, then?" Sam asked.

Stan turned toward him, confused.

"What horrific and weird things do you have?"

"Other than the fact that I just live here?" Stan retorted. He paused, thinking. "Well, let's see...I'm friends with a kid that keeps dying, friends with Cartman, have gotten contracted for playing Guitar Hero, have a best friend who's telepathic and a dog that's gay. How's that?"

Sam laughed. "You know, this place isn't all that bad. I thought it would be completely boring, but it seems like it's hella more interesting than the city life."

"Never say that word again," Stan glared at the boy. "Hella. That's what Cartman always says."

"Alrighty, then," Sam said. There was a pause as the two stepped out onto the sidewalk, entering the town.

"Hey, Stan?"

"Hm?"

"You're hella cool."

"Goddamn it."

Sam laughed, and the two turned the corner just in time to see a truck run a red light and hit a boy in a bright orange parka a few blocks down.

"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!"

--

Kyle looked out the bus window as he began his trip to North Park for his license. Over the years the other two parts of Park county had become worse, greed and corruption spoiling the town and quickly making many more homeless. South Park was the furthest away from the two, almost a county of its own, and was untouched.

He watched the scenery change from South Park to a more run-down looking Middle Park and wished that Stan was with him now, and that he hadn't screwed up his and Stan's friendship.

Stan.

He screwed up his relationship with his best friend, his only real friend (Kenny was a great friend and Kyle could talk to him and all, but Stan was the only one who actually knew him). And for what? A girl.

He hadn't wanted to tell Stan because he was sworn to secrecy by Wendy. He knew that she had liked someone else, but wouldn't tell him who it was until earlier today. And now that he knew...it wasn't right for him to hold out on information like that. Especially now that he knew who it was he was risking everything for.

What could she even see in someone like him? He wondered. What could Stan see in a girl who would be able to like him?

He had felt like an idiot when Wendy had told him. He knew why she didn't, and she knew that he knew, and that only made him angrier at him.

And with what Cartman had done to him in History today...well, that was one of the major reasons why Kyle was so mad at himself.

He protected Cartman.

The bus stopped, startling Kyle out of his thoughts. It was the end of the road; he would now have to transfer to another bus to go from Middle Park to North Park. He wasn't too happy about that, since buses were very few and stopped maybe once an hour or so.

Still, it was still light out, and since it was still October, the day was still fairly long. He was hoping that the wait in the lines at the DMV wouldn't be very long, and that he would be on the Middle Park/South Park bus before dark.

He got off along with the remaining passengers from South Park and other various stops along the way. There were not very many, and by far he looked the richest and most hygeine-friendly.

There was a girl about his own age with a baby who looked like she was running away from home (as she was only carrying a duffel bag and a baby bag), an elderly homeless-looking guy that they had picked up in the outskirts of Middle Park, a middle-class looking guy of about forty that looked closest to Kyle in hygeine and class (which was a bit of a relief as he didn't feel so alone in that sense) along with a woman with what seemed like her two sons.

The bus station was indoor and enclosed, once an elaborate expense in a once-rich town. It was now desolate and dirty, with sticky floors and a sickly-sweet smell. There was a squeaking sound that could either have been rats or birds, and he was sure that he did not want to be here at night.

But he could put up with it. After all, it was his fault that he didn't have someone with him, because he had betrayed said someone for a fat asshole that he honestly could care less about. He had made his bed, it was only poetic justice that he lie in it.

There was no one waiting at the bus station with him other than the woman with the baby. They sat on opposite sides from Kyle, the baby asleep.

Kyle sighed, resting his head in his hands as he waited.

It was going to be a long day.

--

After the Middle Park bus finally showed up forty minutes later, Kyle was finally on his way ot the DMV. He checked his watch. It was 5:27. It wouldn't be dark for another hour yet, and he was hoping that maybe--just maybe--he would at least be on the bus or in the bus station by dark.

He was glad to be in North Park, but still felt a little uneasy. Middle Park was by far the poorest and run-down place in the county, having been pretty much ignored financially for reconstruction, but North Park was not much better.

North Park was the closest thing to a city within a hundred miles. It was not a good place to be at night, but it was still better than being in Middle Park. Here, at least, people were trying--though not succeeding--in rebuilding their town. There was much money being put into North Park, as much as one county with three distant towns could put into it, but it would always seem to just...deflate.

Kyle pulled on the thin rope hanging off of the bus window, signaling he wanted to stop. The bus continued for a block, stopping for him. The DMV was a half-block away, and he didn't mind walking.

He got off and headed toward the DMV. He was the first one of many others to get his license, even though he was the youngest of most of his class. Most people didn't have enough money to pay for Driver's Ed, and Kyle had got his through a scholarship program. Aside from Token and a handful of others, the other students would go through a 'Driver's Ed Camp' the summer after graduation.

He cursed the moment he stepped into the DMV. There were only two lines open, and the lines were horrendously long. The moment he stepped inside, he had walked two steps to reach the end of the line, yet the people at the window were almost dots.

He checked his watch: 5:48.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to be as patient as he could.

Another long wait.

--

"How can I help you?"

Kyle glared at the woman through the window, wondering how the hell anyone but Cartman could be so goddamn cheery while watching everybody else suffer as they waited in this goddamn fucking long line for an hour and a half and dying a slow and torturous death.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, however, he forced a small smile. "Kyle Broflovski, here for my diver's license."

The woman (who was young an kinda pretty) began to type on her keyboard. She paused, scrolling the monitor.

Finally, Kyle sighed in relief. He'd be out of here. After all of this was said and done, he would at least be taking home his trophy: the driver's license.

The woman looked back at him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Broflovski, but the driver's license isn't valid."

"What?!"

"It seems as if you haven't completed all your hours, and the written exam seems to have been marked down. Here, if you like, I can show you the copy."

Kyle scanned the screen. Missing: 2 hours. Need 50 hours for credit. He looked at his test. His signature had been scratched out crudely, red ink written over it. JEW.

"God-fucking-damn it, Cartman!" Kyle shouted, his fists clenched.

"I'm sorry, but until you complete your hours and re-take the test, you can't get your license," the woman informed him, indifferent.

"You mean I came all this way for nothing?!" Kyle was getting really angry at the Fat-Ass. Cartman was getting really good at screwing Kyle around even when he wasn't there.

"Yes. Now hurry up. I have customers. Next!"

Kyle growled angrily, his fists clenched as he stormed out of the DMV.

He walked toward the bus station, nearly missing it as it was dark out.

He opened the glass door to the small booth, and sat on the bench on the opposite side from a dirty-looking guy.

The bus came in only ten minutes, and both Kyle and the guy stepped on. He was glad that it took such a short time, because his patience was at its lowest.

Kyle pushed himself over and leaned against the window as they headed toward Middle Park. There were only three other occupants besides himself and the bus driver: a guy of about twenty two rows ahead and to the right, the man from the bus station somewhere behind him, and a dark-skinned handicapped woman in the front.

He spent the ride trying to think of ways to get back at Cartman, thinking of how he could possibly reconcile with Stan, taking a short nap, and most importantly, trying to calm down for being mad at himself and at Cartman.

They arrived at Middle Park quickly it seemed, though it could just because there was no anticipation anymore.

He checked his watch again, even though it was already dark. 7:55.

He stepped off of the bus along with the handicapped woman in the front, who walked with a cane.

He stood, waiting at the bus station (though he was wishing that this one, too at least had a bench) and saw the homeless-looking guy get off too. He stood a distance from Kyle, waiting at the stop.

The bus sped away, leaving the two alone.

Here he was, alone, with a strange guy in Middle park at nighttime.

He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, especially as he was noticing the guy looking at him every now and then.

But before the bus was even out of distance, the man turned and walked away, down the street.

Kyle let out a breath of relief.

That was, until he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned around, seeing a guy of about his age and two others approach him.

"Hey, hey, gorgeous. What's a pretty thing like you doing here?" said the guy.

Kyle had a really bad feeling about this.

He should've brought Kenny.

--

"Dude, you're pretty good!" Stan exclaimed to Sam as they were both pro-facing off to YYZ in Guitar Hero on Expert.

"I know!" Sam replied, smirking, even though he was still a few points behind Stan.

They ended the song, Sam behind by only a few thousand points. "That was pretty awesome. I didn't think you'd have Guitar Hero, let alone be good at it."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Everyone has Guitar Hero, dude. Even redneck towns like this."

He paused. "John the Fisherman?"

Sam glanced at the clock, looking disappointed. "Acutally, I have to go. My dad's expecting me home to help him unpack."

"Next time, I guess," Stan told him, removing the plastic guitar and placing it on the ground. Sam did the same, and both left the room, heading downstairs.

As Sam put on his boots (he kept his hat and coat on, which Stan thought was a little odd, but figured that he still might be adjusting to the temperature) the doorbell rang twice.

Stan answered it, finding an out-of-breath Kenny.

"Dude, what's wrong?"

"It's Kyle. He hasn't come home."


A/N: Oh, cliffie cliffie. What happened to Kyle? Was it Kenny? Wendy? Officer Barbrady? (sorry, I just saw 'Cartman's Mom is Still a Dirty Slut' on TV)

Um, yeah. I freaking hate DMVs, hate driiver's licenses, as somthing similar happened to me (I'm sixteen and still getting the hang of driving) so I wanted to put it in there. Though the ride was only like ten minutes, but whatever.

I'm starting to get a little more humorous (as this is my first attempt at humor) in my writing style, so bear with me.

Hm...anybody see any pairings going on? Please tell me. (and any requested pairings, I'll try, so request away!)