Author's Note: This chapter just didn't want to get written. So let me make a long story short; it was Finals so I needed to study on those and then once I got those over with, I had a case of writer's block. And that's why it took nearly three weeks to get this bitch done with. Let's just consider this an early Christmas gift, eh? Maybe, just maybe, I might get one more chapter done before the end of the year but it's doubtful.

So how about that End of the Mayan Calendar, eh? Anybody surprised we're all still here? Probably not; just some flames fanned by a bunch of people who overreact to so many little things. It's not like the world ends on December 31 every year, right? Anyway, if there is no update between now and the 31st, I'll see you all in 2013. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence

You See Nothing

The tweeting of birds greeted Kyra as she opened the door that morning. She took in a deep breath of cool mountain air, taking in the snowy world of South Park, Colorado. Then she looked down.

The birds weren't the only things greeting her this morning.

Kyra watched passively as Stan got back onto his feet from where he had been crouching in front of the door, his balance shaky and eyes bleary as took in the image of her.

"What are you doing here?" Kyra asked, sighing. She scrunched her nose as she caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

"I was…I was…Kkkkyyyyyrrrrrraaaa," Stan slurred when he couldn't put more than two words together. Like a dam breaking, the words poured from his mouth, "I miiiiiissss you sssssoooooooo much! Hic. And I-I-I…I'm ssssooooo soooorry. I just…I…I just…"

"You're drunk," Kyra deadpanned.

Stan hiccupped.

"Stan, it's not even…" she paused as she checked her wristwatch, "…seven in the morning. What are you doing here?"

"To…to tell you how sss-sss-sss-sorry I am," Stan slurred in answered, leaning a shoulder against the doorway. Hearing a sloshing sound, Kyra glanced down at Stan's right hand and saw a half-empty bottle of…well she couldn't quite tell what it was but it had be alcoholic. Was it whisky? Rum? Gin? Not that she had any experience with any of those, not at all…

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other in discomfort, eyes avoiding the large bottle.

"Can…can I cooooome in?" Stan asked.

God, his breath was so…ugh. But she hadn't seen him this pathetic in a long time. Was this what living in a fast-pace world led you to or something? Or maybe something else led Stan to it? Regardless of what it was, she didn't have it in her to leave him on his own. How did he even get here? Did he drive?

"Did you drive here?" she asked, suddenly needing to know.

"I don't drunk when I'm drive," Stan answered. "I think," he added after a moment.

Which meant he most likely did. Ahh, she was going to have to invite him in if only to make sure he didn't hurt anybody on the road if he did decide to leave. But really Stan? Seven in the morning? Christ.

"Get in here," she sighed as she opened the door wider and stood to a side to let Stan in. She was supposed to be doing other things than taking care of an intoxicated ex, like moving out and speaking of that, where was Gary? He had told her he'd help out today and to expect him early.

Well, she'd wait for him and make sure Stan didn't get into too much trouble. It wasn't as if she was going to regret letting him in, right?

Nathan was not in the least bit discouraged and kept an upbeat attitude despite not being able to spend a significant amount of time with Charlotte. She liked him, he knew that and why would her sister lie to him?

However, his window of opportunity was growing short. He couldn't stay away from his recording company for too much longer and then there was his own music career. He needed to start writing down some songs and get started on his next album. And let's not forget the concerts. He couldn't let his fans down or otherwise…

What needed to happen was for him to sweep Charlotte off her feet. She had done that to him back in high school and if it hadn't been for that psychopath, well, things would be a little different now wouldn't they? Nathan couldn't have Charlotte rebuffing him any longer so he was going to need to get some help.

There was only one place he knew that could possibly do that while doing it in an extremely short amount of time and at a cheap price too. Yes, he was heading for Black Market because they had everything and should have some kinds of stuff that could make the dating process more efficient for him.

Now where was that place? It had been so long and he hadn't had any need to go there after his professional life took off. He knew there was an entrance in the school but he was too old to use that one but he was sure there was one in an alley somewhere. He just needed to find the right alley first.

Okay, so it wasn't the one across the street from Tom's Rhinoplasty…how about this one—no, that dumpster wasn't in the right place. Man, did Black Market want to make this place hard to find or something? Because that had to be bad for business. If no one could find the place, then how can anybody shop at it?

Ugh, let's see now, how about…? No. Why was this taking so long? He had better things to do, like winning Charlotte over than doing this—what was that?

He blinked his eyes and narrowed them, trying to peer more into the alley he had just looked through. He thought he had seen some movement…but maybe it was his eyes playing tricks on him. Yeah, that sounded about right. Man he must be tired and—holy shit!

Now, he wasn't sure if his eyes had been playing tricks on him this time but if it wasn't a trick then that was some kind of armored monster that was strolling down the alleyways of South Park. He hadn't drunk that much last night so there was no way…

Oh, there was another one. And it was heading the same way as the one before it. Huh. What was going on?

Hey, maybe…maybe he could take advantage of this. He could kick some monster ass and show Charlotte just how tough he was. Yeah! Yeah, and she would see just how strong he was! And she liked strong people, didn't she? Maybe he didn't need to go to Black Market after all!

Now this was a plan more to his liking. Now he was going to be able to show off. He didn't get many chances but this, oh, this was like a gift sent down from Heaven! He looked behind him to see if anyone was watching and then crept down into the alley, crouching low to make himself smaller as he headed deeper into the alleyway.

Coming to a corner, his body tensed as he slowly peeked around it. He needed to see what things were looking like before he came charging out and busting heads. No sense going in blind, you know.

Oh. Oh. There was more than one. There were several in fact. And they were grouping together. And was it him or were there two of them that didn't exactly look like monsters but humans? Hmm, well, nothing for it. Time to let loose and show off those killer Tae Kwan Do moves he had in his repertoire of fighting skills.

Adjusting his Yankees hat, he braced himself, ready to throw himself out there…

…And then something else happened.

"Is everybody here?" Damien asked pleasantly, looking over his father's men with a critical eye. "I hope it wasn't too hard for everybody to find me here. It's not like any of you stopped off at Harbucks or anything for some coffee and donuts, did you?"

A few of his father's demons hastily hid away the evidence of their lateness, some putting coffee cup laden hands behind their backs while another tossed a bag of donuts into a dumpster but was not observant enough to wipe off the powder around his mouth.

Damien sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, a habit that he had picked up from Kyle of all people. "Never mind, just forget it. You were all supposed to be assembled right here an hour ago…but that's okay. You're here now and now we can get this operation underway, yes?"

"Are you sure you're not…mad?" one of the demons asked.

"Why should I be when the men my father entrusted to me, telling me they were the most reliable demons in Hell are practically an hour late for a very important task that cannot wait another hour?" Damien asked rhetorically. Eyeing the dumpster where a bag of donuts innocently laid, "I hope one of those was meant for me."

"I can get some more…" the demon with the powder around his mouth suggested.

"Oh yes, do that. And while you're at it, how about you get enough for the rest of us, hmm?" Damien snarked. "What are you doing? Can you not recognize sarcasm when you hear it?" he demanded when the demon with powder on his mouth began to walk away.

"Is sarcasm edible?" the demon asked.

And this was a demon who was one of his father's best advisors? He was really starting to lose his respect for the Dark Prince right now.

"Excuse him, he's an intern," one of the other demons muttered.

Of all that was unholy, there was still hope for his father…wait, an intern? Now why in heaven did his father send an intern?

"Don't…talk to me," Damien stated, looking pointedly at the intern. "Let's just get this over with. If everything goes well, that stuck-up mortal Wolf will give up on this buying souls business of his and Heaven will be none the wiser. Now, mortal follower of my father, you know what you are supposed to do, correct?"

The only other person here who did not in the least bit resemble a demon, Dillan, nodded his head. "I'm supposed to lure Wolf out so that you can hold him and then have some of these guys go in and trash the place. I don't know but that sounds a bit…underwhelming."

"Oh, but you see, he won't know just how bad the destruction is if he is out here, will he?" Damien chuckled darkly. "He'll only hear the sounds and his mind will torture him more horribly than anything I could do to him. Remember you fools," he spoke to the other demons now, "destroy everything but the cash register. I want to wave his own money in front of his face before this is all over with. For someone like him, monetary capital is everything and seeing someone snatch it in front of someone like that will be like pouring salt into the wound."

"But what if it doesn't work?" Dillan asked.

"Then we'll come back tomorrow and do worse. Burn the whole building down or something," Damien said dismissively. "One way or another, I'll shut him down by attacking his wallet and destroying his means of filling said wallet."

"But doesn't Black Market have many different locations?" Dillan asked.

"I don't care if there are a million of them; I'll track them all down and burn them to the ground if I have to. Wolf Black pays for daring to upset the balance of the universe even if he's unaware of it," Damien declared. "He will regret that no refund policy of his one way or another!"

Dillan blinked. "There's a no refund policy?"

"Why do you think I'm going through all this trouble, hmm?" Damien remarked.

"Crap. I've been meaning to return some shit…are you sure there's a no refund policy?" Dillan muttered before asking his previous question again.

"I saw the sign myself, mortal," Damien confirmed.

"A man whose business does not accept refunds is some kind of evil," Dillan muttered.

"Hopefully he is not my kind of evil," Damien commented, giving Dillan a pointed look.

"Oh, of course not, you and your father are in a league of your own!" Dillan said.

"And I shall prove that right now, won't I?" Damien chuckled darkly. Throwing an arm out in a directing pose, he declared, "Go forth my minions! Bring ruin to the Black Mark—"

A cloaked figured landed right in front of his hand and Damien stopped, staring at the unexpected interloper. From atop the dark purple hood, a question mark bobbled from side to side as the cloaked figure lifted his head up to reveal his masked face.

"Mayor Achristos. Fancy finding you here," the masked man said in a gruff voice.

Damien pulled his hand back and placed his thumb and pointer and middle fingers against his temples. "Ah, 'Mysterion,' what brings you here? Can you not see that I'm in the middle of something that goes over your head?"

"I wouldn't say that it goes over my head or not," the disguised mortal that Damien knew as Kenny McCormick retorted. Yes, he did indeed see the press conference where he revealed his identity and no he does not have a closet full of Mysterion memorabilia back home. Seriously, he got out of that fanboy mentality a long time ago. Why did no one ever believe him?

"I do not care about what you are planning, Damien," Mysterion continued. "However, I want to try to talk you out of it."

"There is nothing to talk about," Damien stated.

"Hey, isn't he that vigilante that's running around?" Dillan asked, pointing a finger at Mysterion. "Myster…y? Mystery right?"

"Glad to see you're caught up with us," Damien said dryly. "But we're not here to point fingers at anyone and stare dumbly at costumed heroes. We're here to take care of something that needs to be handled by the forces of Hell. This is not an Earthly matter."

"I'll give you my autograph if you stop," Mysterion offered.

Damien was ashamed to say he was unable to hold back the fanboyish squeal that came out of his mouth. Coming to his senses, he turned his head slowly and jerkingly to the others who had seen him. In a dark voice, he uttered, "You saw nothing."

The demons and Dillan looked away from him, scratching the backs of their necks or whistling innocently, pretending as if they weren't there.

Turning back to Mysterion, Damien couldn't hide the look of longing on his face but he squared his shoulders and steeled his will…even though he was already mourning the lost opportunity. Come on, this was Mysterion! Practically everyone in Heaven and Hell wanted his autograph. It was weird but it was a near compulsion for some reason, not that he was complaining about it or anything.

"It's going to take something more than a…than a…" here he was having difficulty getting his next words out, "a…a trivial autograph…" he was practically crying on the inside for daring to say those words in the same sentence, "to…to get me to change my mind," Damien managed to force out. "The-the plan goes full speed ahead. Step aside and I will forget the fact that you were here and interfering with my business."

"Is that so?" Mysterion said coolly and damn it, Damien wished his voice could be that deep. Why was he cursed to have a naturally high-pitched one? "Perhaps this will change your mind."

A figure came into sight then, walking towards them as if they…he was on a stroll, hands in his pockets. If Damien was gushing on the inside for Mysterion, for this person it was nothing but loathing and scorn.

"Hey Damien," Gary the Mormon mortal greeted cheerfully. "Hey Dillan. Hey various demons whose names I don't know."

"Isn't that the Mormon guy?" Dillan asked, frowning. The demons behind them fidgeted.

"What is he doing here?" Damien demanded, interrupting.

"I'm here to stop you before you do something with irreparable consequences," Gary answered, serious.

"Oh really?" Damien drawled. "And what are you going to do, mortal? Ask me to come over for dinner?"

"It would be nice if you accepted," Gary said.

"I'll pass," Damien said.

"So there's nothing I can do or say that will change your mind?" Gary asked.

"Nothing whatsoever," Damien stated, baring his teeth in a vicious grin.

Gary said nothing but settled himself in the spot before him, making no move to leave like Damien wanted him to. As the silence lengthened, Damien's eyebrow twitched and his irritation mounted.

"Well? Aren't you going to leave?" he snapped.

"Can't. Not until you turn around and leave," Gary said, shoulders squared and braced.

"This again?" Damien chided. "Get it through that airway you call a head. I'm doing this one way or another. There is nothing you can do that will stop it. Leave now while I am in a generous mood, mortal."

"A generous offer and one I would take if I was any ordinary mortal," Gary replied.

"Ordinary? Whatever, I have no time for this shit," Damien grunted and turned to one of his father's demons, his red eyes landing on the one demon who had powder still around his mouth. "You. Since you are so hungry, why don't you eat this pest and satisfy your hunger in the only way a Snickers bar can."

"Sure," the demon shrugged and stomped his way passed the Antichrist. Mysterion fell back into a fighting pose but Gary held a hand out in front of the vigilante.

"Let me handle this," Gary said confidently.

"You are aware that this freak looks strong enough to break you in two?" Mysterion inquired.

"I was on the wrestling team," Gary answered and left it at that. A bit vague, Damien thought to himself, but he could care less if he knew how to crochet. As the handpicked demon approached, towering over the already tall Mormon, Gary began to recite a passage that Damien definitely did not know from the Bible.

In fact, he hardly understood any of it but what was the point? He was about to be splattered all over this alley and finally cease to be a thorn in his side. Hopefully, Kyle wouldn't be too pissed.

Apparently sharing the same opinion as the Antichrist, the demon threw a punch right at Gary's face to try and shut him up…and that's when the unexpected happened. The demon's fist disintegrated on contact and blood spewed out like a river, the demon howling in agony as he backed away, clutching at the bloody stump. Damien's eyes widened as he saw the blood that splatted on Gary boil away until he looked as if he hadn't been splashed with blood. Damien held an arm out, commanding the other demons to stop where they were.

"What was that?" Damien demanded, eyes narrowing. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean?" Gary asked pleasantly.

"Why is he," he pointed an accusing finger at the wounded demon, "missing his hand, mortal? Answer me!"

"The most powerful weapon against a demon is one that has been blessed by God," Gary said. "I would think one of his sons would be the most blessed things there are."

"His sons?" Damien repeated. "What are you…oh." His eyes widened. "You can't…"

"What can't he be?" Mysterion asked stepping forwards, fists at his sides.

"I always knew there was something about you…" Damien murmured. "There was always something…and that's it, isn't it? You're one of God's Sons. No, more than that. You're the Second Coming, aren't you?"

"The Second Coming? But isn't that supposed to be Jesus?" Dillan asked, flabbergasted.

"The people who wrote that had giant mancrushes on a dead man," Damien stated, glaring Gary down. "They wanted to believe so badly that the man they called Lord and Savior would come back to save them again. Too bad for them that you can only die for humanity's sins once, eh? No, there needs to be a champion of the current time. What are the odds that it was going to be you?"

"I'll be honest with you Damien and say that I'm not too comfortable with it," Gary said. "But that aside, I can't allow you to go through with this. Turn around and stop before it's too late."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Damien grinned. "Let's see just what you are capable of, Messiah. It was inevitable that we fight but we might as well get it over with now."

"I do not wish to fight you Damien but I'm more than willing to take you down," Gary stated.

"And he's not alone," Mysterion added. "If you want a fight, I'll be more than happy to give you one."

Why oh why did it have to be Mysterion on that Mormon's side? Nothing for it, Damien supposed. He'll have to take out his boyish idol along with his nemesis. "Take the vigilante," he ordered. "I'll deal with the Messiah."

Now this was the part that Mysterion knew very well. The part that contained lots and lots of violence. Mysterion was quite used to violence. Had to deal with it more often than not. It could also be said that he was able to talk a lot of people out of violence before it occurred more often than not but there were always those who needed to learn the hard way.

The difference right now was that he was used to dealing with human transgressors. Right now, he was dealing with demons who were more than likely to be able to take a punch and give out more than they took.

Made him wish he was back at the garage but what can you do?

He didn't wait for the demons to come to him; he ran full speed at them. He needed to get the advantage fast if he wanted to last long against them and help Gary out with Damien. It didn't take a genius to figure that Gary, who was new to his abilities, wouldn't last long against Damien, who had been using his powers for years. It didn't matter that Gary was the Second Coming; this was just being realistic here.

Slipping a hand behind his back, he pulled out a bushel of firecrackers and lit the fuse, throwing the small explosives at the demons. He rushed between them as the first explosions distracted the creatures and while they were shielding their eyes, he took the opportunity to grasp onto a drainage pipe, clambering up it quick so that now he was above his opponents. Once he reached a certain height, he maneuvered around so that his back was to the drainage pipe, hands still clasped to it while the bottoms of his feet were pressed against the brick wall of the building.

Once the demons had recovered their sights, they began looking around, searching for him as they whipped their heads around. None had the foresight to look up.

"Where'd he go?" one demon demanded.

"I have no idea! I was distracted by the firecrackers!" another exclaimed.

"That Mysterion sure is a master at disappearing. We can all learn a thing or two from him," another said with admiration.

Letting out an exhale of breath, Mysterion called out, "Over here."

"Where!" a demon cried out, still searching the ground.

"I'm over here," Mysterion said, raising an eyebrow at the incompetence of these demons.

"Where?!" the same demon yelled.

Sighing, "Up here."

"How'd he get up there?" one of the demon's wondered.

One particular demon with blood red skin and tiny spines poking out of his head began jumping up and demon, trying to reach for the vigilante and failing to even make it half way up. "Somebody look for a ladder!" the jumping demon ordered when he gave up. "There's no way we can reach him!"

By now, Mysterion was incredulous. It looked like these guys were all brawn and no brain. Well, far be it from him to not take advantage of it.

He pushed himself off from his spot and plummeted down towards the demon right below him. Keeping his feet together, he aimed his fall so that when the demon looked right back up at him, he got a face full of feet. For a normal, everyday human, this would have flattened them but because a demon is much sturdier, it just caused him to stumble backwards but Mysterion was already on the move.

He leapt from the demon's head at another demon, this one tall and lithe with bluish-green skin, and swung his leg as he did so, landing a kick into the demon's throat. At least the weak points of a human were the same for a demon as the demon stepped backwards, choking while grasping at his throat. Since its mouth was open, Mysterion was unable to resist jamming another bushel of firecrackers into the demon's throat, the fuse already lit.

He was darting away just as the first firecracker detonated, slipping under the arm of another demon that made to grab for him. Putting his smaller and slighter body to the test, he chose a demon that was five feet away, the demon taking a defensive stance that meant to intercept him.

Recalling how the second demon he attacked was affected by a blow to the throat, Mysterion thought that perhaps there were other weak spots to strike. Seeing as this demon's legs were wide open, Mysterion thought why not and…

…ducked under the demon's arms and threw a punch right into the demon's crotch.

Okay, he felt something give way there. Didn't seem like demons wore protection down there either. At least it was a guy demon because the way all the strength retreated from his body as he clutched his groin like any self-respecting male who was hit in the nads would.

Mysterion didn't have time to revel in the demon's pain as he was jerked backwards by his cape, a demon holding fast to the material. Oh, that was a cheap move there using his own costume against him—uup, this was not good. Now he was being held off the ground by the demon gripping his neck with a massive hand.

"Hey everybody! I caught Mysterion! Am I badass or what?" the demon crowed.

Mysterion squirmed in the demon's grip, trying to make some wiggle room. While the remaining, still standing demons began to approach, Mysterion raised a hand up, pointer and middle fingers extended and spread out. With a jab forward, he stabbed the two fingers right into the demon's eyes.

"Owww!" the demon howled as it dropped him, clutching at and blinking its eyes.

Without taking the time to recover himself, Mysterion threw an uppercut right between the demon's legs and that was all she wrote.

You know, it was starting to become a bit uncomfortable hitting demons in the testicles. Even he couldn't completely justify it, not even with the excuse of whatever it takes. At the very least though, the remaining demons were eyeing him warily, hands in front of their crotches.

"Well, somebody get him!" one of the demons demanded.

"Nuh uh, I don't want to pop a nut," one demon refused. "You do it!"

"But I still have the hopes of knocking a succubus up and having some mini-mes running around," the first demon protested. "You don't use yours! You go!"

"Why don't we all rush him at the same time?" a third demon piped up.

"Is that a risk you're willing to take?" the first demon inquired.

Mysterion continued to watch the demons argue, trying to calculate which one would be the best for him to strike down quickly. Who knew how Gary was holding up under Damien's onslaught, which from here was sounding pretty Goddamn amazing.

Suddenly the front of his hood was pulled down and an arm that was much thinner than the ones the demons had wrapped around his neck. "I got him!" a voice yelled out from behind him. "Get him!"

There had been someone else with Damien, hadn't there? A human no less. That's right, now he remembered. Dillan Teigs. The Satan worshipper. He had been there, hadn't he? And he completely slipped Mysterion mind. Now Mysterion was paying for that as he struggled with Dillan, trying to free himself before the demons got their balls back and tried to take advantage of him.

Knowing that he couldn't be "gentle," Mysterion raised an arm out then brought it back sharply, ramming his elbow right into Dillan. He heard an ooph but it wasn't enough to release him so Mysterion repeated the action again and again until he was able to slip around Dillan's arm. Practically tearing his hood off and inadvertently revealing his blond hair, Mysterion glared furiously through blue eyes as he swung a leg and landed a kick right against Dillan's head, sending the human into a couple of garbage cans.

Spinning back around to face the demons, arms raised in readiness to either attack or defend, he eyed his enemies carefully and judged carefully whether he should go onto the offense or the defense. His heart was pounding from all the physical activity he was going through but he knew, he knew he couldn't stop now.

Especially not when Gary was still an utter n00b to all this.

However, the demons weren't making a move on him, instead staring at the top of his head…where his hood wasn't anymore.

"Are you a natural blond?" one of the demons asked.

Mysterion didn't even bother to answer.

The sound of an explosion from behind ended the stalemate though it was more like the shockwaves traveling through the ground shook them off their balance. What was going on back there where Mysterion couldn't see? He was putting this off for too long and needed to end this quickly.

However, Damien had pulled himself into his range of sight but it seemed like he was backing away, hands up in cautious surrender though he didn't look like he had a hair out of place. "Fall back!" the Antichrist ordered, not taking his eyes off of what was behind Mysterion. "It seems like Heaven has chosen its champions wisely," he continued, eyes flickering over to Mysterion for a brief instant. It felt like the Son of Satan was examining him more than looking at him but Mysterion wasn't about to let the bastard know that he was unnerved.

"Are you sure about this?" a demon asked.

"We'll do nothing more than thin our ranks. Fall back. I'll explain later," Damien commanded. Then to him, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

Mysterion remained in place, watching Damien and the demons retreat, allowing for one of them to pick up Dillan but kept his body braced for any subterfuge. It was only when the minions of Hell were out of sight that Mysterion allowed himself to relax enough to look over his shoulder where hopefully Gary was still in one place.

His jaw almost dropped open in shock at how disheveled Gary looked. To put it simply, it looked like he had gone through hell, his normally well-kept hair messed up, some of his clothing torn up…and were those gashes? He was bleeding! Yet Gary still had this…this smile on his face despite the fact he looked like he could keel over at any second.

"Are you all right?" Mysterion demanded. "What happened?"

"I have no idea myself," Gary admitted cheerfully. "There was so much…I don't know how to describe it. You'd have to have seen it to believe it."

In which Mysterion had been looking away the whole time. Damn it, there had to have been some epic shit going on and he had missed it! All of it!

"Do you think you can still walk?" Mysterion inquired.

"Might need a little help," Gary admitted. "That was…a trial. I feel so exhausted…"

"I bet," Mysterion grumbled as he came to the Messiah's side. "I don't know what happened exactly but not only did it seem to wipe you out, it must have been mind-blowingly awesome."

"You have no idea," Gary agreed. "But you know, I feel like I've forgotten something, as if I had to go do something else today."

"One thing at a time," Mysterion said. "We should report back to Michael and tell him what happened. Hopefully that asshole can make sense out of it."

Nathan released a sigh of breath once the fight had ended. He had no idea why he did it but for a moment it felt like he had been spying on something he shouldn't be seeing.

As soon as the coast was clear, he allowed himself to think over what he had seen. It wasn't everyday a bunch of demons got into a fight with the local masked vigilante while the Antichrist and a superpowered Mormon duked it out, which by the way had been too awesome for words to describe.

You just had to have been there to believe it.

Yet what exactly was that about? Nathan wasn't stupid but right now he was not in the know. Why was there a fight? Why was it in the back streets of South Park? And why wasn't there more damage? He was missing important facts, that was for sure.

"Dude, I feel like my eyes were eye-raped by Japanese cartoon producers and repasted with crappy construction paper replacements which are animated by digital computers," Eric Cartman said from beside him.

Nathan nodded in agreement with that because it was a bit accurate as to how he felt and—whoa, whoa, what the fuck? Since when did Cartman show up? And without him noticing?!

Shoving himself away from the obese plumber, Nathan eyed him warily. "What are you doing getting all up in my personal space?" he demanded.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know black people could afford personal space," Cartman mocked.

"Dude, this isn't the 1950s. I have more money that you've ever seen in your life," Nathan retorted. "I also know fifty ways how to kick your ass so don't piss me off."

"Oh, I'm shaking in my shit-covered overalls," Cartman snarked.

"You're not even wearing overalls," Nathan frowned, pointing out the discrepancy. "Can you even afford overalls?"

"Oh ha ha, are you trying to say that my mama's so poor that she watches TV on an Etch-A-Sketch?" Cartman spat back. "Ha! I beat you to it, black asshole whose name I don't know!"

"It's Nathan Wilkes," Nathan told him in an almost boastful tone. "The rapper."

"Ey, ey, don't cap me bro!" Cartman put his hands up in front of his face defensively.

"I don't have a gun on me, though I wish I did," Nathan frowned.

"Oh, how black of you," Cartman rolled his eyes.

"You know what? Don't talk to me. I want to have as little to do with you as possible," Nathan stated, tired of the banter. He held a hand out in front of himself, his finger pointing upwards in a diagonal fashion and he shook the finger with each emphasis he made.

"Don't go pointing that finger at me, you black son of a bitch!" Cartman spat.

"I'm rich bitch. I can point my finger at whoever I want," Nathan retorted as he started walking away.

"Running away? I thought your kind were fast runners!" Cartman hollered after him.

You know what? Maybe he wouldn't take the higher road. He halted his step and looked over his shoulder, giving Cartman the evil eye, judging and measuring all the possible ways he could inflict the maximum amount of pain on him.

Yeah, he might just give in to his more violent tendencies for once.

Wolf barely glanced up as Jay returned.

"They're gone," his hired help reported.

"And?" Wolf asked, not deigning to look up from some accounting he was doing.

"That dickhole mayor showed up with some demons but that Mysterion guy and this other guy showed up and stopped them," Jay continued. "I'll admit, it was pretty awesome how the mayor and that other guy fought. I can't—"

"—find any words to describe it, yes, yes," Wolf cut in dully. "Are you sure both sides left?"

"I wouldn't be here if they didn't," Jay rolled his eyes.

Finally looking up, a smirk on his lips, Wolf simply said, "Perfect."

Right about now, Bonnie wished that she could kill herself. Again. But because she was already dead and in spirit form, there was no escape from the inescapable agony that was listening to Pip rattle on about some stupid shit that happened sometime a long time ago.

Beside her, Krisa looked like her mind was elsewhere, hopefully in better places that were far away from this little piece of Hell they found themselves in. Bonnie had to be honest here and admit that she was a little concerned about the other girl; she had had that same look on her face for hours now, or at least she thought it was hours.

And Pip? Well…

"And would you believe that Mr. Dobson called her a prostitute? Well, he didn't use that exact word but it's close enough. Anyway Ms. Peterman was so angry that her slap sent him across the room! The room! And poor old Mr. Dobson, he just didn't know when to stop talking because he started calling her even more worse words, though I think one of them was meant for me. I hope so, because then I know he knew I was there too, but then Ms. Peterson was…"

Why didn't he know when to stop talking? It was like he was trying to say everything as fast as possible, like he was worried that someone would stop him and he would never talk again. For a moment, Bonnie could have sworn she felt pity for him. But like many things fast spent, her pity was gone after—the tenth hour? Was it the tenth? Or the eleventh? The twelfth?—of prattling.

He was going on and on about all the happenings in this place, events that had happened years ago or maybe days before she arrived. He had already run out of stories from when he was alive and she could honestly not care that he single-handedly beat the Chinese in a game of dodge ball.

There had been a moment when Pip had mentioned that he had been buddy-buddy with a person who claimed to be the Antichrist and after a few descriptions of what he could do, Bonnie was willing to believe. In fact, Krisa herself had thought that maybe there was a way to communicate with the boy Pip called Damien…except that friendship had been broken off when Damien turned Pip into a human firework and he had ditched him for the popular crowd before leaving town.

Bonnie thought at that moment Krisa had entered that staring into space funk she was in from which she had yet to come out of.

Damn it, why had she made that deal with Wolf in the first place? She didn't deserve any of this! None of them did! Well, maybe that Mr. Dobson guy did, but the rest of them didn't! All she had wanted was to get Kenny to pay attention to her, maybe make her his girlfriend and ride her off into the sunset like a gallant hero would. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently it was as the world seemed so against her. And now she was trapped here, completely at the mercy of Wolf Black who had yet to do anything with them.

"Whoa," Krisa suddenly spoke up, her eyes blinking rapidly. "I just kinda zoned out there for a moment. What happened?"

Bonnie sighed and glanced over at Pip. "Not a thing."

"He's still talking?" Krisa summed up.

"Yep," Bonnie agreed.

"I have got to shut this kid up," Krisa grumbled. "And I'd smack him but then I think I'd be accused of child abuse. Why does he have to look like a damn nine-year old?"

"Because I am a nine-year old?" Pip suggested, more aware of what they were saying than either of them had thought.

"Okay, that's it, I want out of here!" Krisa declared as she began marching towards the door from which many of them had entered but never exited.

Banging on the door with her fist, which somehow didn't go through it, Krisa yelled curses and demands at anyone who might be on the other side of it. Many other spirits/people here looked at her but then looked away, already knowing that that wasn't going to work.

"Wow, she's spirited," Pip commented. "She's not as energetic as Ms. Goldstein was but she's doing a pretty good job. Do you think they'll come and speak with her?"

Bonnie slowly turned her head towards Pip and had to wince away from the utter optimism that was radiating from the boy. Even after all these years, he hadn't given up hope yet? That was either admirable or borderline insanity. Bonnie didn't know which it was and to be honest didn't really care.

After one particular graphic promise Krisa uttered, there was a groan and a creak as the door to their unholy prison opened. Many of them looked up in surprise, shocked at the unexpected turn of events.

On the other side of the door, Wolf gave a deadpanned stare at Krisa. For a moment, Bonnie felt a chill go up her spiritual spine. There was something…off about Wolf. Very, very off. Krisa, though, didn't seem to notice it or feel it as she opened her mouth to make with her demands.

"Do you mind?" Wolf cut her off. "I'm busy. Keep it down."

"Like hell I will!" Krisa roared into Wolf's face. "Let us out of here, will you? Or better yet, let me out of here! I'm losing my fucking mind in here and I swear that I will raise unholy hell the likes of which you have never heard of until you do!"

"That's nice," Wolf said, not even bothered by the threat. "But before you do that, there's something you should know…"

Daintily, one of Wolf's hands rose up and then in an instant grip Krisa's neck in a vice-like grip. A deep growl rumbled from deep within Wolf's body and it caused many of the souls here to back away.

"Don't fuck with me," Wolf growled, his dark eyes lighting up with a red gleam for a mere second before returning to normal. With a shove, Wolf sent Krisa flying overhead the mass of souls and then Bonnie lost sight of her.

Turning her eyes back to where Wolf stood, she found herself trembling from the almost unnatural display.

"If you're so bored in here, perhaps we can do something to keep you occupied," Wolf said, somehow looking down on them all even though many of the souls here were taller than him. "I know," he continued, eyes lighting up as a thought occurred to him, "Jay! Get your ass over here! I think it's time we start making my collection of souls here into a little army. Don't you think that would be great?"

Kyra snapped her eyes open. There, right above her, was the ceiling. Now how did that…?

Ugh, her head…did she drink again? Her body felt sore too though why that was eluded her. Wasn't she…wasn't she supposed to be doing something today? Yeah, she was supposed to be moving out. She didn't have long until she needed to get all her stuff out of here and…was that an arm laying on top of her?

Yes. Yes it was and the arm continued over her and to the edge of the bed where the hand dangled over the edge. Right below the hand was an overturned bottle that looked vaguely familiar.

Following the arm the other way, she noted how muscular it was but pushed that thought aside as she connected the arm to a shoulder, then the shoulder to a neck, then the neck to a head and the head to a face.

And a very handsome face it was. It was a handsome face that was mere inches away from her and smiling a goofy smile to boot. She knew this face alright. Saw it many a time in her dreams.

Stan. Stan Marsh. Stan Marsh was asleep right next to her in what looked to be her bed and he wasn't wearing anything. Neither was she if the fact that the panties she had been wearing earlier today just so happened to be hanging from ceiling fan right above her.

Oh God, she…she had just…

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"