South Park, a typical small town, at least it used to be. Much has changed in the past eight years. Things had expanded, it was now basically a small city, of course, the original inhabitants complained and protested, tried their best to drive out development but it never succeeded. Things had changed, and no one was sure if it was for the better or for the worse. Other than the pure cold much had changed. Glass and metal skyscrapers dotted the mountain skyline and the air wasn't as pure as it used to be. New modern businesses started to pop up first, such as Whole Foods and a Walmart, that was the beginning of the end. Then big-name businesses started to build offices in the form of skyscrapers.
South Park was a shell of its former self. That's how the development of the world worked, right? Though with the development, comes the seedier side of city life. The crime was rampant in the city of South Park, notably organized crime. One notable crime syndicate is the South Park Mafia, it operates in the shadows but its infamy is well known throughout the city and strikes fear in those who even encounter their ranks. Some minor gangs tended to claim parts of the city always at war with one another. The quaint town was a shadow of its former self, and there is only one man to thank for that.
Eric Cartman.
The Don of the South Park mafia, a notorious man who strikes fear into those who hear his name. It was all he ever wanted right, power?
The mafia's higher ranks were made up of a group of high school students, known by older residents for their delinquent behavior when they were kids.
Only one person was missing.
Though not for long.
The man's heart thundered fast, he knew he was unequivocally fucked. He had pissed off a few gangs and knew there was a hit on his head. He was highly aware that he was being tailed and tried to swerve into an alleyway to shake the person that was following him. Those green eyes that were staring at him at the bar said nothing but trouble. The alleyway was a grimy place, dumpsters lined beside doors that lead into kitchens and offices.
His first mistake was going down one with a dead end.
"You are an idiot," came the voice and the man turned around, his back against the brick wall. It scraped through his thin shirt.
Those green eyes again, they looked cold and dark. The man knew he wasn't going to make it out of this alive. Even if he begged for forgiveness, it wasn't going to save his skin this time. He was unarmed and trapped against a wall. It wasn't his ideal way to die, he'd be mouse food before sunup.
Kyle Broflovski stared down his latest hit, he was a pathetic looking man, he didn't even seem worth his time but a job was a job and he had to follow through or he'd be the next to die. A contract was binding when he agreed to join the agency. His father had just died and he was at his lowest, the job and contract came down on him like an angel from heaven or a devil from hell he wasn't sure.
It helped his retained childhood violent tendencies, however.
Kyle eyed the quivering man in front of him - pathetic. He pulled out his knife from his backpack pouch and placed the knife to the man's neck. He got a sick thrill from this for sure, and it showed by his smirk on his lips as he slowly sawed at the man's neck. Rivulets of blood splashed against the cold silver metal and a coppery smell filled his nostrils. He clamped his free hand over the man's mouth so he wouldn't scream.
The sickening sounds of murder filled the alleyway as blood dribbled down into freshly fallen snow. Kyle showed no remorse as the life of the man in front of him ebbed away from existence. The job wasn't morally just, but it helped with a lot of things. It helped make ends meet, he knew his family would throw him in the street - or call the police - if they knew what he was doing. So he lied and said he was working at the local McDonalds, they never had to know how much exactly he was making each night.
It only increased his need to make money once his father passed away, he had to support his mother and younger brother somehow. It wasn't that bad of a job, he knew deep down, some sick part of him even enjoyed it. Cold green eyes watched as the body in front of him slumped down into a lifeless mess in front of his brown boots, a look of disgust on his face as blood got onto them. He'd have to take care of that when he got home.
He let out a shaky sigh and looked up at the snow clouds that were dropping fluffy crystalized water onto the city below. Kyle knew he was a fucked up kid, but considering his friends' that he grew up with, it was an understatement. Everyone knew some of South Park Elementary's most notorious children turned to crime around freshman year of high school.
Kyle wasn't one of them, he wanted to stay clean and just pass high school. He had good enough grades, and a high enough GPA to get into an ivy league college. He knew that he could just quit now, get a normal job, and just get the fuck out of dodge when it came to it. He just didn't want to, he was lying to himself at this point. His hands were bloodstained and the people he worked for wouldn't take kindly to him ghosting them. He was bound by contract after all. He was at his lowest when he agreed to work for them. They were rather manipulative motherfuckers.
He pulled a cloth out of his pocket and wiped off his face, he could smell the coppery smell as he did so. It didn't bother him much anymore. He wrapped his knife with the cloth and put it back in his backpack.
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he snuck out of the alleyway leaving the body for the police to find in the morning once foot traffic picked up. Unbeknownst to Kyle, a car was parked nearby, it had been following him the entire night.
It recorded everything.
On the southern side of town were the nicer housing and upscale businesses. It screamed filthy rich, a two-story mansion lies right in the middle of a nice neighborhood. It looked like the kind of neighborhood that held some sort of secret - and it did.
This neighborhood held the ranks of the mafia, this mansion in particular was the residence of Eric Cartman, the Don. Deep in the house was the study, the walls flickering with light from the fireplace. Pictures hung on the wall were either work of art or pictures of groups of people; almost like family photos.
There were bookshelves that held knickknacks and books that had no words on the spines. It might have been pure novelty or they actually held information. In the middle of the room was a large oak desk that was covered with files and papers of all sorts. Behind the desk was a chair and there sat a rather muscular man, Cartman, he had rather grown into his fat, he was still chubby but most of it was muscle now. Shaggy brown hair set upon his head and a two-color set of eyes were set in a scowl.
Eric wasn't exactly in the best of moods, but that wasn't unusual. There had been a string of murders in his territory, normally that wouldn't make him upset but he couldn't have those that pay him for protection getting flighty and stop paying him. This was his business and if someone was trying to upstage him it was personal. That's why he had sent Stan out to stake out a lead he'd gotten from an informant.
He'd be expecting the hippy any time now.
There, a knock on the door.
"Come in," he said and looked up at the person entering.
"Sup boss," Stan was standing there with his camera on his hand and a file of pictures.
"So, did the lead give anything?" Cartman asked and reclined with his hands laced on his stomach.
"Well," Stan paused and rubbed the back of his head, "Yes, but you're not going to like it."
"Just give it here."
Eric watched as Stan came forward with hesitance, almost like he didn't want to show what he had found. This caused Cartman to raise a brow. Once the evidence was in his possession he looked at the pictures with his eyes narrowing. There in the pictures with an unknown man was Kyle Broflovski was depicted in these photos as someone preforming heartless murder. He chuckled, it was so perfect, the evidence he had in his hands.
He was going to make sure the little schoolboy would join his side, much as he refused to years ago.
"You're not going to kill him are you?" there was a twinge of sadness in Stan's voice. Regardless of their paths, he still considered Kyle his best friend even if he didn't spend as much time as he used to with the redhead.
Cartman grinned and shook his head, "No, I have a better idea."
Kyle trudged through his classes that next morning, something felt off today and he couldn't put his finger on it. Only half paying attention in his classes but being able to retain the information in the form of notes. School had changed, for the most part, the only friends still around were Tweek and Butters. He knew well of their connections but those were left unspoken about. Though he noticed something was off when they sat together at lunch that day. Tweek seemed twitchier than usual and Butters was uncharacteristically quiet, they mostly talked about their classes that day, but it was strange to him.
"Golly guys, did you see this?" Butters finally spoke and showed the headline on a newspaper that was left on the table.
"It's the - gah - fifth one in that area this month," Tweek answered.
"Jesus Christ, what if they kill us next?" he continued.
"I'm sure we'll be fine, Tweek," Kyle muttered and munched on a fry.
The news article was his work, he recognized that ugly ass face that he personally made sure contorted in pain. The bell rang before he could continue this conversation and Tweek rushed off, probably to confide in Craig. Kyle wasn't going to lie, he felt bad since it was indirectly his fault.
Though that being the only thing other than their class that was mentioned made him feel off.
Maybe it was just his imagination.
Kyle sighed as he exited his last class, he was supposed to meet up with Stan and Kenny after school, he wasn't exactly sure if he even wanted to, the core four had split up years ago and their bond never seemed the same afterward. Kyle refusing to join Cartman was the tipping point of their relationship.
Though he'd do anything to rekindle their friendships. It wasn't the same without them. He opened his locker and started to empty all his books and supplies into the compartment. He was shocked out of his musings when he noticed people around him quickly retreating with some sort of fear in their eyes, well everyone in this school was fucking weird anyways.
It wasn't until he closed his eyes and closed his locker door did he realize why.
"Hey, Jew."
Those words made his eyes snap open and glare at the person in front of him. There was only one person he knew that had that infuriating voice and only one person that called him a Jew. He grits his teeth and tries to hold in his anger.
"What the fuck do you want Cartman?" he snapped.
"Ah, ah, ah," Cartman said and wagged his finger, "You can't talk to me like that anymore, and I'm sure you're well aware why."
Kyle swallowed his anger and stared at him, He wasn't stupid he wasn't going to start a fight with Cartman especially with a few of his men straggling around eyeing the conversation.
"I came to talk,"
Kyle was damn sure that wasn't all the man wanted. He turned on his heel and pointed to an empty classroom. "Ms. Field leaves her door unlocked," he said simply and walked and opened the door.
Cartman grinned and motioned his men not to follow before following Kyle into the classroom. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn, they had absolute privacy now. Kyle wasn't sure that was a good thing or not. He turned and faced the mob leader with his arms crossed.
"Now, tell me what you want Cartman," Kyle repeated.
Cartman ran his finger across a desk and then looked at the pencil dust on his fingertip. "What makes you think I want something, can't I just visit an old friend?"
"Bullshit, I know better."
"Fine, lets just cut to the chance since you want to be so fucking uptight."
Kyle rose a brow and watched as Cartman pulled out a stack of pictures out of his coat pocket and spread them out on the desk. Kyle's blood ran cold, it was pictures of him last night of different stages of his job.
"I knew you were a monster but damn." Cartman sneered.
A growl escaped Kyle's lips as he whipped around to stare at the other, "Why the fuck were you following me?"
"You've been killing people on my turf and I'm not happy."
Kyle rolled his eyes and attempted to push past Cartman and exit, he wasn't going to play this bastard's games. Only freezing when he heard a click of a gun and found himself pushed up against the wall with a gun to his head.
"I'm not the same fucking person, Jew, I'll blow your brains out right now without hesitation." he spat. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he continued, "You can either join us like you were supposed to or I can send these to the police and have your ass thrown in prison for murder."
Kyle bit his lip at that and closed his eyes tightly. It had come to this, huh? He wasn't going to allow the bastard to see how scared he was. If he got arrested it would mean his family would find out about his job and he'd lose whatever family he had left. Rekindling with his friends was what he wanted, right? This was the way to do it, it couldn't be that bad.
"I'll do it, I'll join you." he forced out, he felt himself being dropped to the ground onto his knees. Something stirred in Cartman's gaze, and the gun went under Kyle's chin to tip it up at the other's face.
"Good, I was beginning to wonder if you forgot who you belong to."
Kyle held back a retort, he wasn't going to dare with a gun at his head. He didn't belong to anyone, especially not Eric fucking Cartman.
It was that moment that Kyle Broflovski realized he fucked up.