Author's Note: Okay, I'm warning you guys right here, right now, there are some spoilers for Malicious Motives in here. For those that haven't read it, there are spoilers here. For those that have…then it shouldn't be surprising to see it. Remember guys, this is the fourth installment in a series of stories so naturally they will be building off one another as they progress chronologically. There are also a few things I'd like to mention later so look for the author's note at the end. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

Awesome Foreshadowing

Brittany Love could not believe what she was hearing. She had come all the way here from Washington D.C. with the intention of attending this ten year high school reunion their class was having when she had been contacted by Wendy Testaburger of all people to do…this.

Now Brittany was reminded just why she didn't like Wendy Testaburger and the reason she kept away from her. Yes, Wendy was in charge of putting this thing together but did Wendy really expect her to…to…

It was just pissing her off that she was going to have to do this! Had it just been Wendy who asked her, she would have flat out said no but Wendy had asked her to do this one little task while others were watching the two of them so Brittany's ability to flat out say no was limited. If she refused to do it, she would just look bad in front of the people she grew up with and she didn't want that happening.

Damn it all, she was a journalist, not…not…this! She worked for the freakin' Washington Post! One of the most famous and most trusted newspapers in the United States! It hadn't been easy to get accepted into it either! So many days of painstaking work, so many sleepless nights as she prettied up everything she did. So much effort was put into getting herself this far in life and so far it was all paying off!

She was in the fast lane, on a one track drive to success. She was going places, making a living she could be proud of as well as be able to rub in other people's faces!

And why? Why?! Why did Wendy and the others trust her to do this one little thing? Was it because she was a journalist that she knew how to write? Was that it?

No, no it wasn't.

Perhaps you are wondering just what it was that was asked of her. What little thing was she asked to do that put her all out of sorts, you might be asking. What could possibly be so horrendous that Brittany Love was making such a big deal out of it?

Sigh.

Wendy Testaburger had asked her to write a eulogy in memory of Bonnie Snyder. Not only was she supposed to write the eulogy, she was also supposed to read it out loud to all the other classmates that had graduated alongside her and Wendy and everyone else.

And you want to know the one thing about it why this was causing her so much stress?

She hated, no, despised Bonnie Snyder! She loathed the very ground that bitch walked on, detested the very air she breathed! The sight of her, the smell of her, hearing that annoying voice that would never go away because the dumb broad didn't know when to shut up! She hated it all.

Yet, Wendy's reasoning for having her, Brittany, write this eulogy was because the two of them had spent so much time with one another back in high school and that they were such close friends…

Friends? You've got to be kidding! They weren't friends! They were rivals, no, that wasn't strong enough a word… Enemies! That's what they were! Enemies! Enemies who just happened to be a part of the same social group whose sole purpose was to hook girls up with the guys they liked.

And now, her days as a LESBIAN were coming back to haunt her.

If she knew where Wendy 2 could be found, she'd go to her and kick that cunt's ass!

Seriously! Why was it that things came back to bite her in the ass? All she had wanted (back then, naturally) was to be Kenny McCormick's girlfriend. Was that too much to ask for? She had, like, just one date with him and he never calls back, never asks for another date, nothing! Wasn't an exploding Shakey's memorable enough?

That's where the enmity with Bonnie came from; Bonnie also liked Kenny and refused to step aside so that the handsome teenager could be hers and hers alone. What was most irritating was that Bonnie had some kind of fantasy where Kenny was some kind of knight in shining armor who would sweep her off her feet and carry her off into the sunset…

Actually, that sounded good but still! Last time Brittany had seen Bonnie, she was still wishing for that fantasy. Of course, the last time that Brittany remembered being close enough to Bonnie, physically speaking, was when they were in some alley that was downtown and someone tried to run them over with a car. Because of that, Brittany had to stay in the hospital during her senior prom and who knows how close to home base Bonnie got with Kenny!

There were a lot of stories about what had happened during prom but Brittany, to this day, had yet to make heads or tails out of any of it. Something about a crazy bitch with a gun, a cat girl, and blood raining from the ceiling was the best that Brittany managed to get out of all the garbled talk. After that, she decided not to investigate more because she had a feeling that things had gotten much more wacky later on.

Sounded fun. Too bad she was stuck with some broken bones at Hell's Pass! Damn it! The one night every teenage girl dreams about and she has to miss it!

But let's get away from her past regrets and back to the thing she was really regretting right now. Bonnie's eulogy. Did some god up there hate her or something? Did whoever was responsible for this just love tormenting her?

She didn't know who to blame now for the predicament. Wendy Testaburger, Wendy 2 and LESBIAN, or some disembodied entity. Perhaps most of the blame could be placed solely on Bonnie. If Brittany could figure out a way to get back at her now dead rival, she'd show her that Brittany Love was the last person you ever crossed.

But first, what could she say about the dead that wouldn't make her, the living person, look bad?

"A little to the left…a little more…a little more…no, no, you went too far, go to the right—stop! …okay, a little to the left…"

Wendy stuck her tongue out of her mouth, her teeth clenching onto the small muscle as she directed her two helpers put up the long banner that had the words "Welcome Class of 2012!" written on it. One of her eyes shut tightly as the young woman tried to judge for herself that the banner was hung perfectly. It was taking a while as it always seemed like the thing was not hung just right.

"There! There, there—noooo! Go back to the right—wait! There! Right there! No not more right!" Restraining a groan, Wendy continued to give her directions.

Everything needed to be perfect this time around! No murders. No sabotage. No crazy college girls waving guns around. Wendy wanted this to be a normal, planned get-together. Was it too much to ask for?

Beside her, Gary Harrison stood watching her, arms laden with various things that were important to setting this reunion up. Wendy had tuned him out in favor of directing the set-up of the gymnasium that she had successfully managed to convince the principal to let her use over the weekend. By Monday it would have to be all cleared out but she was sure over the next three days that that was not going to be a problem.

"Don't you think you're going a bit overboard?" Gary asked from beside her.

"No! I will not let this one be ruined like everything else!" Wendy declared. "I have to make sure that nothing spoils this! Is it too much to ask that we have just one gathering where nothing life-threatening happens?"

"I've found that once you put it out there, it's like daring it to happen," Gary shrugged.

"Aren't you supposed to be optimistic and cheerful or something?" Wendy asked, giving the Mormon a skeptical look.

"That is in my character," Gary replied, not in the least bit put off.

"You have to be so calm, don't you?" Wendy said, eyes narrowing.

"Somebody has to be," Gary shrugged.

"What is that supposed to—what are you guys doing? The right side is lower than the left! Raise it up—not that much!"

"If you insist on being a perfectionist, why don't you come up here and do it yourself!" one of her helpers demanded.

"Then how am I supposed to know if it looks right if I'm not down here making sure it does look right?" Wendy asked in reply, tilting her head to a side as if prompting the one who spoke to give an honest answer.

"How about we go with good enough and call it a day?" Gary suggested.

"Ugh! You're such a guy!" Wendy complained.

Gary blinked, not quite understanding. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Guys just don't get it," Wendy rolled her eyes and then frowning. "Come on girls! To the left a little! Perfect! Wait…okay, it's just perfect now."

"Finally!" one of Wendy's helpers sighed and lowered an end in relief.

"God damn it, you ruined it!" Wendy nearly shrieked.

This was going to take a while.

Charlie gave a deadpanned look at the visitor on her doorstep. "Does it look like I'm going to go?"

"I would have assumed you would have since I doubt you have anything else better to do," Damien answered.

"People change, I'm not going to the stupid reunion," Charlie stated. "And for your information, yes, I do have better things to do."

"Did your boy toy stand you up?" Damien teased, eyes lighting up malevolently. "Or does he have some new plan to spoil this get-together? The last one was quite entertaining."

"First of all, he told me himself that he couldn't be bothered to come," Charlie answered. "'Ten years is not long enough away from them' were his exact words."

"So he's planning for the twentieth, hmm?" Damien mused.

"I don't know how you managed to guess," Charlie shook her head. "Done yet? Please, go before I lose my manners."

"Expecting a call?" Damien taunted. "I can understand; when desperation surrounds you, you have to resort to cheap alternatives like online pornography or unsatisfactory phone sex."

"You would know," Charlie retorted. "Didn't your father ground you for a few weeks before he ditched you in my care?"

Damien narrowed his eyes at her. "Do not bring him up. Just because you've somehow enamored yourself into his jet-black heart does not mean you won't face consequences for your insolence. One day I will be the one on his throne and all slights will be remembered."

"You say that now—" Charlie began but was cut off.

"I have a long memory," Damien interrupted. "I still remember my first day of school in this town, elementary school that is, and the slights that were perpetrated against me then will also be dealt with."

"Does that also include your boy toy?" Charlie retorted, a bit peeved that this asshole had interrupted her.

"I never said I was above playing favorites," Damien replied with a smirk.

"Because you're such an imperfect little devil, aren't you?" Charlie muttered.

"I prefer Antichrist but I will admit to being a devilspawn," Damien said cheekily.

"Whatever, I'm not going, end of story," Charlie stated, attempting to close the door. While most people would have stuck their foot in the way, Damien wasn't most people. A flare of his eyes and an unseen force held the wooden barrier wide open. Charlie struggled with it for a second before glaring at him. "I said I'm not going."

"Don't you know nothing excites me more than the suffering of others?" Damien teased. "You're going to be my right-hand man…woman in the distant but not too distant future. It would be best if you attended functions with me right now so that you know all my little quirks."

"Isn't that what Kyle's for?" Charlie snorted.

"Come now Charlotte—" Damien began to wheedle, his voice changing to resemble a familiar velvety yet scratchy voice.

"You don't have permission to call me that," Charlie glared at him. For a moment, this Antichrist asshole sounded like… "And don't you fucking dare use his voice. It's bad enough that he sounds like that in the first place."

"But you let the sinner call you that all the time," Damien pointed out.

"That's because he refuses to call me by, and I quote, a masculine nickname that should never be attached to something that bleeds for five days and doesn't die," Charlie said dryly. "That and don't you know how formal he is?"

"So when he calls you a whore, he's being informal?" Damien asked, genuinely curious from the way he was looking at her.

"I guess," Charlie shrugged. Even after all this time, she still couldn't figure out what went on inside Bain's head. Devious little son of a bitch. Hand gripping the open door, she pulled on it experimentally only to be disappointed when it didn't move an inch.

"If you desire it, I can bring him here," Damien offered. "You must miss him so much…"

"Don't fucking bait me; I have better things to do than to waste time with a bunch of people I could care less about," Charlie refused.

"And what 'better things' would that be?" Damien asked, already knowing that there weren't any "better things."

"I have to get my sister to take down the little shrine she has in her closet to that sexist asshole down," Charlie answered immediately.

Apparently, not expecting this, Damien blinked dumbly. "She what?"

It seemed like the shock of that statement weakened whatever hold Damien had on the door and Charlie took that chance to slam it in front of the Antichrist's face without saying another word. Not that she wanted to say anything more to Damien in the first place.

Sadly, she wasn't lying about that shrine. This was just a little fallout from an aborted scheme of Bain's back when they were in high school and before their dating days. She had figured that he had been trying to turn her family against her and isolate her and had started by charming Tammy, her youngest sister, but that plan had come to a screeching halt. By that, she meant he had nearly drowned in Stark's Pond and after being resuscitated had woken up with a bad case of amnesia.

As you can tell, he got better.

Or worse, depending on who you asked.

But one thing that hadn't changed was that Tammy was still head over heels for him. Instead of doing what she would have expected him to do, that is kill Tammy and hide her body so that no one would find it, Bain avoided her as best as he could. Maybe there was some residual of that amnesiac Bain in there somewhere who was so pliable and allowed Tammy to once cover his face in make-up.

She still has that picture and it's kept for blackmail purposes should the need ever arise.

Whatever the case, Bain tried to stay away from her house so that he wouldn't get cornered by Tammy and Tammy still had aspirations of marriage. Charlie had prayed that Tammy would have outgrown that childhood crush…but who was she kidding? Insanity ran in the White Family, or what was left of it.

Had Charlie not had gone into Tammy's room to dump her clean laundry on her bed and accidently banged her foot against the closet door, allowing it to open somewhat, she would have never found it.

This was going to be a tough talk.

Bonnie was groggy. Really, really groggy. She had no idea of what was going on and had no memory of how she ended up in such a state.

Slowly, but surely, things began to sharpen, the blurred picture that met her eyes clearing up. She rubbed her temples, kneading the skin a bit though for some reason, she felt a cold sensation meet her fingertips.

And now her head was aching. Great. What else could happen?

In a flash, the memory of a bus sailing through the air and off a cliff greeted her.

Her eyes widened. She had been on a bus, that's right. A bus with that Godforsaken bus driver…who had fallen asleep at the wheel. Yes, yes, she remembered screaming, she was screaming, the mountain was rushing up towards the windshield—and now she was…

…she was…

What was she doing at the Black Market?

Rows of shelves filled with various merchandise, and all at a cheap price too, met her. The lighting overhead was kinda dim and—whoa! Wasn't that…? It was! That was a brand new, state-of-the-art physician's tools and gadgets kit! Reflex tester, stethoscope, ear checker with light attachment, and other various tools of the medical doctor's trade! And it was all at a low, low price too! She had been looking for this kind of stuff so that she wouldn't have to use some of the hand-me-downs back at the practice!

"What the—? Wolf! There's another honkey!"

Honkey?

Bonnie looked away from the drool-worthy display in front of her and—holy shit, it was a black man! Was he holding the place up? Please don't hurt her! She's still a virgin!

"What are you babbling about—oh."

Emerging from the back, Wolf Black, owner and operator of Black Market appeared and it looked like he was getting dressed up for something.

Why was he looking at her like that?

"Great, as if I'm not late enough already," Wolf rolled his eyes. "Still, it's not like it can wait either."

"Just do whatever you do with them," the black guy muttered, looking very uncomfortable. Wasn't he supposed to be robbing the place or something?

"Just man the counter Jay. Don't scare anyone off like you did last time," Wolf glared at the taller male. Wolf's dark eyes then gazed at her and Bonnie felt a shiver crawl up her spine. When he began walking towards her, Bonnie had the feeling that he was moving very much like the predator that he was named after. "You know, you could pick a more convenient time to pop up," Wolf said disgruntledly. Odd, for a moment he sounded like that bus driver…

Bonnie opened her mouth to speak but how to swallow a few times before she could say anything. Wow, her throat was really dry! Strange how there was no saliva going down though. "Did…did you rescue me?" she asked, her voice incredibly hoarse.

"Rescue you?" Wolf frowned at her. Eyes lighting as something came to him, he said, "Oh, you haven't figured it out yet. Well, allow me to break this to you gently. You're dead."

Bonnie stared at the businessman as if he had lost his marbles. "No I'm not."

"You most certainly are!" Wolf replied jovially, an arm snaking around her shoulders while the other dug through his pockets as if looking for something. When his hand came up with nothing, he said, "Hold on a sec."

A shrill whistle passed through his lips and Bonnie winced at how high pitched it was. The black guy, Jay, covered his ears and was shouting at Wolf to warn him whenever he did that.

However, what happened next was unbelievable. Zooming out by its own accord, a glowing piece of paper zipped through the air, Wolf's hand catching it with practiced ease. "Okay, it says here that you, Bonnie Snyder, are in debt to me. Wow. Now that's a bit pathetic. A super PAC for your run for Prom Queen. Did you get burned on that one," Wolf chuckled before adding darkly, "…so did I."

Bonnie did not like that tone of voice. She also had no idea what he was talking about.

"Confused?" Wolf asked, that dark look of his vanishing. "Well, you wouldn't be the first one so let me explain it to you. According to this little contract here, you sold your soul to me in exchange for me funding your campaign for prom queen during your senior year. You do remember that, don't you? Of course you do, we had debates and FOX News and it was all one big circus and—oh! There was that crazy chick who tried to take the crown for herself! You remember that, right?"

How could she forget? In the following days, it came out that that crazy chick happened to be a former prom queen herself who went crazy after her prom night ended badly. She also happened to be related to the school's horrible recluse, Bain Cynis. She didn't have any fond memories of that guy.

Hold up.

"You mean…I was actually selling my soul back then?" Bonnie exclaimed.

"Getting it?" Wolf said as he began guiding back into the backrooms of the Black Market. For some reason, Bonnie felt as if she was being propelled forward and she wasn't really walking either. At least, she couldn't tell if her legs were moving…

"Yeah, most people think it's a joke," Wolf shrugged. "You'd be surprised how many people agree to do it; it's maddening and amazing at the same time. Now, I'm not going to bore you with all the details, the various things in play, the over technical stuff, all you need to know is that you're in good hands right now."

"I don't…understand…" Bonnie whimpered, her mind spinning.

"That's okay, you don't have to," Wolf said offhandedly as the two approached a thick metal door. Pressing down on the door handle, Wolf opened it and began to push Bonnie beyond it.

Bonnie tried to dig her heels in but continued to move anyway. Getting a good look at what was before her, the young pediatrician's jaw dropped opened. It was a sea of hazy green but within it were all these people who was looking straight at her and were they begging?

Then she noticed the green haze that was around her…

"Welcome to your new home," Wolf said. "You check in but you don't check out," he added as he shoved her forward.

The slamming of the door sealed away all hope.

"I didn't know Bonnie as well as I should have, even though we did spend a lot of time together. I guess you could say we were…like…sisters…" the young woman known as Brittany Love broke off as she covered her mouth, her shoulders quivering.

Most took it as she was taking this tragedy very hard. The reality was that she was trying to muffle her joyous laughter at finally being rid of her most persistent rival.

Everyone was blessed to remain in ignorance.

Eric Cartman didn't care. Why should he care about some ho he barely knew? Conveniently, he left out the fact that he had once belonged to the same little club the girl had belonged to…what was it called again? It had something to do with homo chicks, he knew that much.

Damn it, why'd she have to die, huh? This was taking away from all the attention he could be garnering up! Instead of having a good time and boasting about his (fake) accomplishments, he had to stand around like he was at some kind of funeral and be mournful.

"We…we squabbled…a lot…" again the ho up front broke off, shoulders trembling. God! Get this fucking thing over with! There was only so long he could remain silent without talking about himself! Why was it that some dead chick was getting more attention than him? "And maybe we did say some things to one another that weren't…" And again with the breaking off! This time, the ho's entire head was bowed down so that no one could see her face.

"She's really taking this hard," the ho Wendy Testaburger remarked from nearby, several others nodding their heads in agreement.

Sharp as always, hippie ho. Cartman grimaced to himself. Even now after all these years, that girl could still garner attention to herself.

"She looks so delicate up there, like she could break down at any second," someone else Cartman didn't care to look at mentioned.

She looks so delicate up there, about to break down, oh, he could just vomit! How long was this thing supposed to take?

"A-and I know…that if she were still here…that b—I mean Bonnie, she would…she would want to say…ah ho ho ho—" oh great, she was crying! For a second, though, it sounded like she was laughing. Eh, probably just a trick of the ears. Wouldn't be the first time Cartman misunderstood something, not that he would admit that he could misunderstand something in the first place.

"The poor thing, she looks dreadful!" Wendy said.

"Maybe we should let her leave, to composer herself," Bebe Stevens suggested, cooler looking than ever. Cartman couldn't place his finger on it but Bebe was so cool right now. It was like, she was radiating coolness and that coolness grew in intensity whenever he looked at her chest…her bouncy…chest…so very…bouncy…

Where was he again? The ah ta was so mesmerizing—

Bebe turned away, her cleavage disappearing from his sight and breaking whatever spell that had been cast on him.

—what was so mesmerizing about Bebe again? Suddenly her coolness went away.

There was some commotion where their speaker was and Cartman redirected his gaze towards it and saw that Wendy was indeed taking action and having what's her name leave to compose herself. "This is a very sad time for us all," Wendy spoke into the microphone. "Here we are, getting together again after ten years and it has to start with something so sad happening. So, in the memory of Bonnie, let's make this a reunion we'll never forget. What d'ya say?"

The doors to the gymnasium slammed opened and Cartman swore to himself. Damn it, whoever did that had taken his idea for a grand entrance! He would have done it too except he had arrived early. Hold on a sec, was that who he thought it was?

"Sorry I'm late guys!" came the deep and overly-enthused voice of a douchebag Cartman knew all too well. "Had to take my private jet all the way out here just to make it in time; I hope I haven't missed much. Huh, why does everybody look like their dogs died or something?"

The sound of crickets chirring swallowed up any noise that everyone made.

Those shades just made Stan, that asshole, look even more like a douchebag. What kind of lame-o wears sunglasses inside a building? Made ya look like a dork, in Cartman's opinion.

After a moment of one-sided discomfort, a brave soul managed to speak up. "Stan? We were in the middle of…of a eulogy," Kyle spoke up. Did he say a brave soul earlier? That needed to be corrected because there was no way Jews could be brave souls.

"Yeah Stan! Learn some tact!" Cartman bellowed out into the silence because everyone needed to hear his voice at least once tonight. Since everyone was being so Goddamn quiet, that just made it easier.

"You mean someone actually died?" Stan frowned as he took as his shades, the action resembling something you'd see in a movie. Pfft, poser. "Who was it?"

"Bonnie Snyder," Kyle said as he finally emerged from the crowd of South Park alumni so that he could face his gay "super best friend" and did Cartman mention that that was so gay? What kind of self-respecting straight man would say their best friend was their super best friend? That was…that was just so gay!

"Never heard of her," Stan said in reply.

"Stan…" Wendy spoke up from in front, her voice carrying through the speakers thanks to the microphone. "You…you are the limit."

"Thanks," Stan said cheerfully. "Now how about we get things going?"

Now, Cartman was not prone to saying such things but insensitivity, thy name is Stan Marsh. Usually, that was his crown but he was willing to share it. See how generous he could be?

At first, no one did anything, stuck in offended mode and unable to get those sticks out of their self-righteous asses. At least in some respect, Cartman could agree with getting things going. He hated funerals (unless he was being given something in the will), hated boring ass eulogies, and absolutely hated not being in the center of attention. Right now, all three of those things were happening. Guess like he was going to have to correct it.

"You know what, he's right," Cartman said out loud. "We can't dwell on things we can't change. Let's put the past behind us and have some fun tonight. What d'ya say?"

Slowly but surely, there were some mumbled assents. A lot were "what else is there to dos" but it was the fact that it was because of Cartman that the attitude in the room was changing. It wasn't Wendy, it wasn't Kyle, it wasn't even Stan who came in all insensitive-like. It was him, Eric Cartman.

Finally, it was time to get his groove on.

Turning to the nearest person who he forced into listening to him, Cartman said, "Hey, I ever tell you that I went to the moon?"

Author's Note: The scene with Bonnie, Wolf, and Jay was actually something I wanted to save for later. Like a chapter or two later. But this chapter was becoming a bit short and I felt like I wanted to add something to it. Thus this scene was a big plot-driven one. Now are you guys starting to figure the whole "what would your character sell their soul for" item in the OC submission form was for? I actually have a few more ideas for it so don't expect it to be disappearing any time soon. And to PinkParka, remember when I said Bonnie would still have a role in this one? Goes to show that not even death will keep these characters from playing their parts.

And expect there to be some death, maybe a lot of it, and in gory detail. This is South Park. Everything is exaggerated.

Now, this is the last chance for OC submissions. To people who have submitted for other stories, this is your last chance to tell me I have permission to use your character again. For those who haven't submitted, go back to the first chapter and check out the submission form at the bottom. If you would like to add anything to your character, change something, whatever, do it now because after this, it's set in stone. There are still a couple other OCs to introduce so for those who haven't had their submitted character show up, don't fret.

Brittany Love: TheIceCreamAndCookie