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Disclaimer: I do own South park!

Disclaimer on the Disclaimer: That was a lie.

ENJOY!

2013

Chapter 3

Craig set his wavering eyes down to the ground as his body trembled uncontrollably. He was doing his best to keep his cool, but he couldn't help feeling scared in front of his old teacher. He had never been afraid of Garrison back then. It was always a riot to make fun of him during class. But that was before Garrison had control over legions of soldiers….

Kyle, Stan, and Cartman were standing at attention in front of the door to Garrison's office. It was a relatively posh bunker, with a nice sized bed, heater, refrigerator, and all the comforts of home really. Cartman scanned the room with greedy eyes as Kyle leered at him with an equally malicious glare.

"Craig, I can't express how disappointed I am in you," the older man sighed as he sat down behind a bulky metal desk. "I definitely had a lot of confidence in you, but it seems it was ill placed."

"I apologize again, sir," the black haired boy said, doing his best to keep his voice from stuttering. "My failure is inexcusable."

"That it is, that it is," Garrison agreed, clicking his tongue. "Lucky for you there seems to be a bug going around; the 'Failure Flu.' Everyone's catching it. You weren't the only one who let Rebels get away this week." He paused a moment to pour himself a glass of wine, and Craig obviously relaxed a little. After taking a sip from his glass, Garrison returned his gaze. "I can't necessarily punish you without punishing nearly everyone else."

"Thank you, sir!" Craig exclaimed, the relief his words apparent.

"However," Garrison continued. "If it happens again, I can't promise you the same treatment a second time." Craig nodded in acknowledgment. "You may go. All of you. Meals will be served in the Mess Hall in one hour, understood? Curfew is enacted in five."

A chant of "Sir, yes, sir," echoed in the room as four men saluted and left via the only door.

"Whew-hoo! Did you see Craig squirm, you guys?" Cartman laughed almost as soon as they were down the hall. "'Oh please, Mr. Garrison,'" he mocked in a high pitched voice. "'Don't hurt me! I have no balls!'"

"I'm right here, asshole!" Craig growled, shoving Cartman with his elbow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Craig," the fatter boy said softly, taking him by the shoulder. "Assaulting a superior officer, are you? We'll just see about that."

"Whatever," Craig spat, pulling away. "Everyone knows that only thing you can do is go crying to Garrison." He took a sharp turn and began walking toward his own bunker, leaving the other three boys behind.

"I won't be crying to Garrison anymore," Cartman chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Soon, everyone will be crying to me!"

"Is that offer to join your cause still good?" Kyle asked, smiling at his old friend.

"Well, well, well, Kyle. What's this all about?"

"We're sick of Garrison as well," Stan added, his face expressionless. "We thought you could use some help in overthrowing him."

"So, it appears you two faggots have come to your senses," Cartman chortled. For an instant, Kyle's cheerful visage cracked… but just as quickly it returned. "However, I don't need any help from you gay-wads." The brown haired soldier began to walk away.

"Of course," Kyle shouted after him. "You're always right, Cartman."

Cartman stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly looked over his shoulder, laying his suspicious eyes on his red headed counter part. For what seemed like hours, they stared at each other; one in doubt, the other with Paper Mache friendliness. After a while, Cartman was saturated of their contest and without a word continued down the hall.

Stan and Kyle stood motionless in silence. Kyle was watching as Cartman strolled away… Stan was glancing longingly toward Kyle, his face a disturbing mix of reverence and concern. "He's our friend, Kyle," he muttered lowly under his breath.

"Yes," Kyle answered, just as low. "He was."

"I had a dream last night," Stan said quickly, changing the subject. "More like a nightmare. Back when we were 16, and just being drafted into the army. Do you remember that? We were just kids, and they still forced us to go."

"The best day of my life," Kyle agreed, nodding. Still he avoided looking directly at Stan.

"Remember how Kenny didn't come?"

"Weakling."

"He was our friend too," Stan murmured, his voice quivering. "Why is it… why is it that we keep losing friends? They either betray us or we betray them! What's happened to us?"

"To you…." Stan wanted to say, but just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"They don't think like I do, and were too weak to fight," Kyle answered. "Therefore, they betrayed me. They tried to get in my way… therefore, I betray them. It's human nature."

"That doesn't sound humane to me," Stan wanted to say. But still he remained silent.

Instead he asked a question that had been bubbling to the top of his mind for weeks now. A question that he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to, afraid it might hurt too much: "Why don't you ever look at me anymore?"

Kyle said nothing, just kept staring off into space. The silence between them was deafening, and Stan could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart.

"I'll eat in the Mess Hall first," Kyle started, ignoring Stan's blatant discomfort. "Then I'll go warn Garrison."

Stan nodded in agreement and followed Kyle obediently down the hallway, understanding that his question either went unheard, or Kyle just didn't want to answer. Both were completely plausible.

XXXXX

Cartman stared at his watch intently, pistol in his hand. He watched as the second hand ticked at an agonizingly slow pace. At last it reared toward the twelfth mark, and as soon as it hit the entire hallway went black with a thunderous clatter.

"Curfew," Cartman grinned, lowering his arm. He waited in the blackness, his shoulder against the door to Mr. Garrison's quarters. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the sound of his frantic heart pumping adrenaline would be enough to wake the dead.

He ground his jaw and began tapping his foot impatiently, rehearsing what he was going to say to his helpless victim as soon he barged through that door. "Cue music," he growled in a whisper, hoping his command would take effect.

Surprisingly, music did begin to play. Garrison was listening to his Broadway CDs before bed just as Cartman had planned he would. With the distraction of the music, Garrison would barely be able to defend himself as he unwound from a day of tyranny. He was a fool to let his guard down so easily.

With one forceful kick, Cartman ploughed through the door, aiming his gun right at the point where Garrison's chair would be. "Alright, bastard, this is-"

Cartman went mute as he chocked on a gasp. He was aiming his loaded gun at nothing but an empty room. There was a click and crackle of static. Startled, Cartman jumped and looked around the room, laying his eyes on a lone intercom.

"My, my, Cartman," Garrison's voice echoed confidently through the speaker. "I had to see it to believe it. But here you are; ready, willing, and able to take my life. Well… maybe not that last one, but you're definitely ready and willing." Garrison's voice convulsed in a bemused laugh. "And that, my boy, is all I need to condemn you. GUARDS!"

Cartman's eyes grew wide with the sudden realization that he had been backstabbed. Without wasting a moment, he turned and dashed down the hallway, shooting two Arbiters as they rounded the corner.

He didn't stop to mock them as he normally would have, his life threatening plight dictating his immediate escape from capture. He entered into a stair case, debating whether he should go up or go down. Heavy, boot laden footsteps approaching from below forced Cartman's hand as he pivoted and bolted up the steps.

Panting and tired, he burst through the highest door and stepped onto the gravel strewn roof of the building. A gust of wind billowed through him like ice and his face went instantly flush. His mind was racing a hundred miles an hour trying to think where he could run to next. With a grunt, he ran for the edge of the roof hoping to see some way down.

Cartman was frozen instantly at the sound of the stairway door opening for a second time.

The world seemed to stop turning and all time slowed to a halt. Gradually spinning around at what seemed like a snail's pace, Cartman faced the new comer.

The wind whistled. The moon grew dark. The light appeared to shy away and all became silent except for the sound of boot on gravel. With slow, deliberate steps, Kyle emerged from the doorway.

Cartman breathed in a gasp as he stared on into the endless abyss of Kyle's menacing emerald eyes. They were so cold, yet burning with an icy fire that made Hell itself freeze over. Cartman's blood was like ice as he staggered backward; the visage of his former friend so malevolent that he was over powered by fear.

Instantly, time sped up again as Cartman flailed his arms, falling backwards over the edge of the fortress. He tumbled head over heels, but still managed by the grace of god to grasp hold of the ledge. He didn't even have the breath left to scream.

Slowly, but ever so surely, Kyle's silhouette towered over the frantic boy, looming like a black cloud over him. Cartman shrank away in terror, Kyle's aura so full of malice that it compelled him. "K-kyle," Cartman stammered, finding his voice. "Help me up, please. Oh, god, Kyle, h-help me!"

Kyle leaned in close and took hold of Cartman's wrists with two chilled hands.

"Thank god, Kyle!" Cartman blubbered. "Thank you, please, help me up! Kyle, thank god! Please!"

"You…" the fiery red head began, his voice low and guttural. "You ridiculed me."

Cartman's eyes widened. Kyle tightened his grip with such force that his prey just had to let go of the ledge. "Kyle? What are you… Kyle!"

"You demeaned me," the angry attacker continued. "You made fun of my religion. Of my sexuality. Called me Jew. Called me fag."

"Kyle, please, god, let me… let me explain!"

"You know…" Kyle started, leaning over so that his mouth was right to Cartman's ear. "In a way, I wish this could be good-bye."

"Kyle…"

"Unfortunately…"

"Jesus Christ, Kyle!"

"It's more like…"

"Kyle, for the love of god!"

"Good riddance."

Stan looked from the rooftop's doorway with grim eyes and watched as Kyle let go. He didn't move to stop him. He didn't echo Cartman's screams. He didn't even flinch when he heard the sound of the sickening thud below….