Screeching tires filled Kyle's bedroom from the open window. It shook him awake from his spot wrapped in Eric's arms. His eyes shot open and he darted his gaze to the window which morning light was filtering through. In a normally peaceful neighborhood, it was odd to hear such a thing. It wasn't lost on his companion as he looked over at Eric who was awake now as well.
"The fuck was that?" Eric asked. Kyle's eyes narrowed as he wiggled out of the bed, clad in a pair of plaid pajamas. He walked over to the window and looked down at the ground and saw a beat-up Toyota speeding away. Suspicion crossed his features as he had realized that cars like that didn't hang around here either.
"I don't know, but it was a pickup truck and they were in your driveway," Kyle replied. He turned to watch Eric get out of bed and throw on a shirt. He could tell the other wasn't exactly happy, he could see the squaring of the brunette's shoulders and the furrowing of his brow as they headed out the bedroom door.
The stairs felt fluffy underneath his bare feet as he made a beeline to open the front door. He looked around and it seemed so peaceful, a few kids were playing in their yards and he could see Stan and Wendy hanging out on their front porch. Most of the upper ranking members lived near Cartman in the neighborhood, even if it wasn't directly across the street. Though as he moved back to close the door, chopping the loudness to just be some idiots he noticed something taped to the door with duct tape.
He pulled it off and held it in his hands. It was in scrawling handwriting that was almost hard to read at first. He noticed who signed it first, it was Damien. He felt someone touch his shoulder and sat Cartman leaning over his shoulder to read along with him.
'Dear Assholes, You've made the first move on the chessboard, you killed my men, blew up my buildings and now you've signed your death wish. You wanted war, we're taking the war to you. To the streets, and none of your men are safe.
-Damien'
Stan from across the street realized something had happened and he was crossing the street with Wendy near his side. Kyle felt anger welling through his veins as he realized partly that this was his fault, the other part angry for this absolute asshole attacking those he cared about. His hands clenched, crumpling the paper under his fingers.
"Hey, hey, don't crumple it, I need that," Cartman said and took it from his hands.
"What exactly is it?" Stan was there now and asking the real questions. Cartman handed over the paper for Stan to read and Wendy was leaning over his shoulder to read as well. Stan's expression turned from neutral to anger as well.
"Who the fuck does he think he is?" Stan stated.
"Well if it's a war he wants, it's a war he gets, right boss?" Wendy asked a small frown on her face. Kyle looked up at Cartman who had a dark expression on his face. It was clear he wasn't happy at all, someone was threatening their way of life, and his power, he wasn't going to stand for it.
"Yes, yes. That's exactly what he's going to get." Cartman's voice was low, filled with contained malice.
Great, they were all on the same page.
Kyle's eyes scanned the area to make sure that there was no one listening, all he saw was the group of younger children playing in the street, it was only them. He scanned the faces of his friends and they all mirrored what his own face projected. They wanted this war to be put to an end before it could get started.
The death of Damien and his men would be the key. Kyle's mouth opened to speak and he locked his eyes with each one of them. "I'm going to kill every last one of them."
"Ky, you don't need to take that burden on yourself, you have us too." Stan said with a smile, Wendy spoke up to confirm, "Yeah, I mean they threatened all of us, you don't need to take it all on yourself, plus we're a family here." she said.
Kyle looked away when she mentioned family. He had a family once, his mother put a nail in that coffin for him already. He felt love for his friends but it was kind of hard to even hear the word family. Kyle was always a family-oriented person, he would do anything for his mother and his little brother Ike. Though, it was clear he was disposable to his mother with how quick she threw him away. Whatever, he thought, see how fast she goes crazy without money to support her.
Cartman quickly went into giving orders seeing as this conversation was going nowhere. "Kyle. Go spread the word to the others. I want a meeting in five." he said. He was staring straight at the redhead who turned his head ever so slightly to meet the other's gaze.
"Yeah, got it, boss," he said.
Kyle turned and headed down the steps only stopping to glance at Stan and Wendy for a moment. "Thanks." he murmured with a small smile on his face.
"We'll get through this together, dude," Stan said and clapped his shoulder.
"Yeah," Kyle grinned and headed down the stairs to get the others and spread the word.
A cigarette hung loosely on Kyle's lips as he leaned against a grimy wall in the less savory parts of South Park, his gun hanging at his belt, one hand gripped around it just in case. The sun was starting to set and pinpricks of stars were scattered across the sparsely cloudy sky. Smoke trailed up from his mouth as he pulled the cigarette off his lips and blew.
That morning after Kyle had gathered everyone up in Cartman's living room and they were informed of everything, the gears were set into motion. They found themselves in a meeting in North Park - less a meeting and more of a showdown. That's how Kyle found himself peeking over the corner of a wall and having a cigarette to calm his nerves.
He threw the cancer stick across the pavement, it's rosebud causing ashes to scatter like fireworks. Just then a bullet ricocheted off the wall with a metallic sound. A curse fell off Kyle's lips as he pulled out the gun from his belt and leaned back against the wall. Swiftly he moved his body to peek out of the alleyway he found himself in and shot off a few bullets of his own.
He heard a cry and realized he had hit a target. Though it was short-lived as he heard footsteps heading rapidly towards his direction. He backed further into the backway and raised his gun up. He was prepared to fight to the death if he had to. It was then when the person firing bullets at him appeared around the corner.
It was a haggard-looking man who had a stubble beard. If Kyle wasn't mistaken he looked like a homeless person. A homeless person or not, Kyle didn't care. He dove behind a metal barrier and shot for the man's legs.
"You're the grand prize, you realize how much money is out on your head?" the man laughed.
"I keep getting told, though, in my opinion, I'm priceless." Kyle shot back.
"We'll see about that."
Kyle peeked out just a tiny bit and noticed the man had been shot in his arm and in his left leg. The man looked worse for wear like he was fighting to save himself from blood loss. His arm hung loosely and he was shooting with one arm. Unfortunately for Kyle, one of the bullets embedded in Kyle's upper arm and he felt white-hot searing pain spread through his body. Though there was one thing he wasn't going to do, he wasn't going to give up.
More gunshots sprayed around as a full out gunfight filled the pathway, they were flying everywhere from both the man and Kyle. Kyle wasn't going to die here, not now, he had more things to do and he wasn't going to let some homeless fuck ruin that for him.
He pushed through the pain and ignored the blood staining his green hoodie. He closed one eye and steadied his gun and aimed for the other leg on the man. A loud shot echoed through the alleyway as he hit his target. The man toppled to the ground and Kyle came out of hiding and walked straight up to the man who was on his knees, bleeding everywhere.
"You know. I hope you meet your maker in hell because that's where you'll be going." Kyle lifted up his gun and placed it to the man's forehead.
"As if you're any better, that's where you'll be going too." the man spat.
"Maybe, but at least I won't be going on my knees like a slut in an alleyway." Kyle grinned, "Any last words?"
"I-"
"Times up," Kyle said and pulled the trigger.
"Boom. Headshot." He hummed.
After the adrenaline faded he was stumbling out of the alleyway holding the wound on his shoulder. Hissing slightly in pain, tears pricked his eyes, and spots danced around. "Fuck." he cursed as he landed nearby on the wall to steady himself. The sounds of screams and gunshots flooded around the area, he wasn't sure how many of their men were dead, alive or even wounded. He couldn't help but feel guilt, this was his fault. If he had just joined Cartman years ago he wouldn't have been used as fodder to take the mafia down.
He thought back to the morning, the mention of them being a family went through his mind like a painful memory. They were his family, they were his friends and they meant the world to him. They were all he had left, if he lost them what would he have? He just prayed to God that no one was hurt badly. It was funny how he still believed in a God after all the shit he's done.
It was a mystery, or maybe it was just the way he was raised.
He slid down the wall and the gun skidded against the concrete. He heard the crunch of gravel against shoes and his eyes shot open and he immediately reached for his gun and raised it to the approaching target and only felt relief when he saw it was just Cartman. Placing the gun down he sighed. Cartman's eyes were trained on the bullet hole in his shoulder.
"How the fuck do you keep getting shot?" He asked.
"I'm a special boy."
"We're getting you to Butters." Cartman sighed and scooped him up in his arms and carried him back to his car.
"I can walk, you know," Kyle said.
"Sure, Kyle."
The car peeled away from North Park and headed into the East Section. Despite Kyle's protests, he was carried into the house with weak slaps to Cartman's biceps. Kyle's foggy eyes looked around and saw wounded people all around Cartman's living room. The one that caught his eye the most was Stan who had blood all over his arm. Kyle's eyes widened when he saw his Super Best Friend wounded and moved to his side as soon as he was put down.
"Stan?" He whispered and studied the arm that the other had been shot in.
"Hey, we're bullet buddies." Stan hummed.
"Dude…"
"I mean, you got shot in the arm and so did I." Stan said.
Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a shaky sigh, which turned into a laugh. "I'm just glad you're okay."
"Oh god, another one?" Butters's voice came from the other side of the room. Kyle looked up to the approaching blonde who looked tired and he was covered in blood. He scrutinized Kyle's arm and tugged at the shirt for Kyle to take it off. The other did so with careful movements and soon there was clear access to his arm, thankfully the bullet hadn't gone too deep. Butters was able to take it out with a pair of tweezers and stitch and bandage him up.
"Be more careful in the future Kyle." came the tired response from Butters.
He hoped that once this was over, he got the rest and tender love and care he needed. Kyle shifted in his seat and looked around, this couldn't continue. Kyle started formulating a plan in his mind. He knew one thing, if they were able to kill Damien and Pip, they'd be able to watch his men scraggle out and fade into nothingness. Though how?
"Guys, I think I have a way to end this," Kyle said.
He felt the eyes train on him and he started to formulate his words.