Next chapter. I hope things are exciting enough for you. This chapter gives us more mysteries... but hardly any answers. What could possibly be going on? God, I wish I knew what was going to happen next....

Diclaimer: According to Family Watchdog, I have 42 sexual predators in my neighborhood. What a coincidence; there are 42 reason why I don't own South Park! I'd tell you them, but I'm sure you're more interested in the predators....

ENJOY!

2013

Chapter 4

Kenny sat down in front of his fellow Rebels and let out a long sigh. He had called them all together to meet at their Head Quarters: the run down basement of what used to be a Wal-Mart before American troops reduced it to rubble in order to ensure no major establishment fell into the hands of invading Russian battalions.

"Are we all present?" he asked, lifting up his head to scan the dark room, a single light fixture hanging over head illuminating the space. "Role call, Butters," the blonde commanded before leaning back lazily into his chair.

"Uh, Butters, s-sir," the fidgety boy saluted. "Reporting in." He looked over his shoulder to the others, making sure they all spoke.

"Wendy and Bebe reporting, Kenny," the black haired girl spoke first. Bebe nodded in agreement.

"Bradley here," the third blonde boy spoke before returning to biting his nails again.

"And J-j-j-jimmy," Jimmy finished, adjusting his crutches before sitting down.

"Good, we're all here," Kenny sighed again. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Um, Kenny sir," Butters started, raising his hand as if still in school. "I know I've said this before but… there are only six of us. Maybe we should start recruiting more people to help get South Park back to normal."

"No, Butters," Kenny rejected softly, but firmly. "We can't ask anyone else to endanger themselves. If we started reeling people in, well, we'd be no better than the Arbiters. Besides, six is the perfect number. There are enough members so that we can still pull of missions, but it's a small enough group that we can't be as easily detected or caught. No, I think six will do just fine."

"So why did you call this meeting?" Bebe asked, leaning forward over the table. "Does it have anything to do with Mikhail's new mission?"

"I doubt Mikhail even knows about our little group," Wendy grimaced, deflated. "South Park is such a small town. He's got bigger fish to fry. But, maybe if we sent a message out or something to the Russians they'll give us some back up?"

"And risk being c-c-caught?" Jimmy interjected. "Yeah right, W-wendy."

"Enough!" Kenny groaned. "There's something else, not about the mission. It's more on a personal level." The others fell silent in respect to their leader. They all knew that if it wasn't for Kenny bringing them all together, there wouldn't even be a Rebel Faction in South Park. "I'm sure you all remember Cartman?" Kenny asked, his voice low.

"How could we not?" Wendy teased with a smirk. "He was such an asshole, but you know, I kinda wish he was on our side. We could use a mind like his."

"What about Cartman?" Butters asked.

Kenny closed his sky blue eyes and took a deep breath. He reached down below the table and plucked from the ground an object. Lifting it up to the light, he set down on the table a single red rose.

The entire group gasped, then fell utterly quiet. Rose bushes were nearly extinct thanks to the nuclear winter. There was only one in South Park, and it was in a green house under the Rebel's possession, barely keeping alive. To cut from it was a tradition strictly reserved for….

"We haven't cut a rose since… since…" Bebe started, a tear coming to her eye.

"Ike…" Bradley finished, solemnly, his eyes dark and downcast towards the floor.

"That could only mean…" Wendy began, but choked on her own words.

"He's gone," Kenny informed, his fingers gingerly playing with the rose's stem, pricking himself with one of the thorns. "From what I've gathered, he tried to stage a coup against Garrison. I don't know how he died but… I do know that it was Kyle who did it."

"I called that one y-y-years ago," Jimmy mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else.

"How ironic," Kenny mused, examining the rose, touching its delicate petals with pales finger tips. "Two roses… one killer…."

After a moment of reverence between the six of them, Kenny stood up and walked over to Bradley. "If you don't mind," he asked politely. "But would you go and put this one where it belongs?" Bradley nodded, and left the room, holding the fragile flower like an ancient relic. The others remained silent, mulling over the memories of a person they never really understood was their friend until just then.

XXXXX

"Garrison, sir!" Kyle shouted frantically as he burst into his superior officer's room. It was two hours past Curfew and Garrison was just on the verge of falling asleep. Needless to say, his mood was a little less than courteous.

"This had better be important, Kyle," he groaned, putting on his glasses and slipping a pistol from underneath his pillow.

"It is, sir," Kyle panted, apparently out of breath from running. "It's a Rebel attack! They've fired the first shots and are invading in numbers we didn't think were possible!"

"Are you serious?" Garrison gaped, his jaw hanging open in surprise. "How could we have let this slip through our surveillance? We have cameras and vanguards posted everywhere, how could they have amassed such an assault?"

"I don't know, sir," Kyle shrugged. "But one thing is for sure. If they break through our fortress, you will no doubt be their first target. We must get you to a safer location, ASAP!"

"Agreed," Garrison growled, loading a clip expertly into the bottom of his gun. The two of them briskly jogged down the dark hallway until they were eventually joined by Stan and two more officers.

"Sirs," one of the lower ranking soldiers saluted. "The rebel attack has gone into a ceasefire. We believe that they are attempting to lure us outside, distracting attention from our base."

"Well, do it!" Garrison shouted, sporting his pistol. "You out gun them, no matter how many there are. And there are enough defensive battalions in this fort to stave off even a Russian legion, let alone a few rats! Scramble a few men outside in skirmish formation and find out where they're hiding!"

The two officers saluted again and went off to execute the orders. Garrison turned his seething attention to an expressionless Stan. "And why aren't any of our sirens or alarms going off?"

"Sir," Stan mumbled, his eyes low. "The Rebels have infiltrated our generator and took out all the lights and alarms. We have men working on it now, but for the moment, we're quite literally in the dark."

"Damn it!" Garrison cursed. "Come on, you two, we're headed for the roof. I want to see them."

Kyle glanced at Stan with grim eyes, but neither made any objection. They followed their leader up the stairs and out into the chilled midnight air. Already stationed on the roof were three snipers, scanning the grounds below for any suspicious movement. It was then that Kyle spoke up.

"Garrison, sir, I don't think it to be wise to be on the roof. The Rebels may have sniper units as well."

"Does it look like I give a shit?" Garrison barked. "I've been waiting for some action in this town for months now! There's no way I'm gonna let a mob of rabble take this from me." He cast his leer upon the other snipers, before waving them down. "Get down there and aid in the search, you're not going to be able to see anything through those scopes in this light!"

The three men saluted and went on their way. They passed through the door in a hurry, which was quickly closed by a smiling Kyle.

"Damn those rats," Garrison was spitting under his breath. "Where are those Rebel scum?"

"What Rebels?" Garrison whirled about to find Kyle aiming a gun right at him.

There was silence between them as the realization dawned upon the older man. He took an angry step forward, his face contorting into a grotesque visage of wrath and betrayal. "There was no attack, was there?" he whispered, his voice hot with venom. Kyle just smiled in return and raised his gun higher.

Like a flash of lightning, the two Arbiters fired their weapons with sloppy accuracy caused by the heat of the moment. Both bullets whizzed by harmless, but in order to dodge them, both men flung themselves to the ground, losing hold of their guns in the process.

Garrison was on his feet first, rushing to one of the pistols, he kicked it away before either of them could grab it. Kyle rose slowly to his full height, clenching his gloved fists in rage. "Well, I might have expected this from Cartman," Garrison chuckled, his grin one of confidence and triumph. "But never in a hundred years did I think I would be betrayed by you, Kyle."

The older man took a few steps back towards the closed door, nodding to Stan who was standing idly by the wayside. "Cartman tried to kill me, so I had Kyle kill him. Now Kyle's trying to kill me… I think it only right that Stan do the honors this time."

The black haired boy gritted his teeth and drew a single pistol from the holster at his side. He cocked it and aimed his sights straight for Kyle's heart. Garrison chuckled as he continued to back away towards the safety of the door. Kyle looked on in shock, his angry face melting away into one of child like fear.

Stan's eyes mooned over in sadness as he took a deep breath… and fired.

Garrison staggered backward, his back landing heavily against the metal door, leaving a trail of crimson blood as he fell. Clutching at his chest, he opened his mouth to say shout some order or cry for a medic, but the air had been whisked from his lungs. "Never," Stan hissed, lowering his smoking gun. "I will never allow anyone to hurt Kyle."

Kyle burst into a roaring guffaw that resonated through the night sky. He laughed so hard he had to bend over and hold his stomach. "My, my," he chortled devilishly as he bore his gleaming teeth in a victorious smile. "It looks like you gambled too much in the loyalty of your subjects. It appears mine are a little more loyal to me than to you."

Garrison tried to say something, some final threatening words that would have ultimately been in vain, but all the erupted from his mouth was a blossom of blood that trailed down his chin and onto his shirt. Slowly, in the frozen atmosphere, he died.

One of the snipers from before came flying up the stairs and had to push Garrison's lifeless body away in order to open up the door. "What happened here?" he asked, bewildered.

"The Rebels are retreating," Kyle informed calmly, steadily approaching the corpse. "Unfortunately they claimed their prize. Garrison is dead." The soldier lowered his head in reverence. "Alas, just as Cooper said, when one phoenix dies, another rises from the ashes." Kyle smiled and ran a hand through his thick red hair, his emerald eyes shimmering in the moonlight. "With his dying words, Garrison instructed that he intended me to be his successor."

The Arbiter looked astounded toward Stan for some sort of confirmation… but Stan averted his gloomy gaze, staring dismally into the far off starlight, a pistol clutched in his grasp.