Uuuum... I'd have to say only one more chapter after this one, but with Christmas coming up I really don't know when I'm going to get it typed. And I'm going to be working on a new idea I just got (it's an original fiction that I'm hoping to turn into the PUSH contest and maybe get it published! Woot woot!).

Disclaimer: If I were you, I'd look out your window. See that tree way over there? Yeah... that's me. Just don't disappoint me, m'kay? You wouldn't like it... if you disappointed me.... So write a goddamn review before I go all Rambo on your ass! Or... Chuck Norris. Or... Bryan Boitano... which reminds me! I don't own South Park.

ENJOY!

2013

Chapter 7

The snow fall was oddly peaceful as Kenny stared into it, tracing the pure flakes through their wafting decent until they landed noiselessly onto the ground. But still, far in the distance, the evening sky was covered by an impenetrable wall of cloud; looming, foreboding, omnipresent. It was like a sheet that shrouded any hope of light and cast the world below into a dismal grey shadow.

Silent all but for the sound of her boots crunching atop the fresh snow, Wendy approached and stood by Kenny's side. She leaned forward onto a window sill that had long ago been demolished. She didn't say a word, and neither did Kenny. They didn't have to, for they both knew what each other was thinking.

Kenny cast his worried gaze down onto his Rebel counter part and for a moment he decided that, in spite of her run down clothes and tousled hair, Wendy was exceptionally beautiful. Kenny let out a long sigh and ignored the breath that fogged back into his face.

He had no time for those kinds of thoughts. It was too confusing either way. First it's Wendy, then it's Butters, then back to Wendy again. If he had a nickel for every time his emotions did a 360, he could afford to move out of this dump.

"He's not coming back is he?" Wendy asked, breaking Kenny from his trance. He didn't respond. He didn't have the heart to admit what he knew was true. Wendy wiped her eyes before they started tearing again and stood up to her full height. "I'll go cut another rose. I'll be sure to put it next to Ike's. God knows Bradley deserves at least that."

She turned to walk away, but Kenny reached out and took her by the shoulder. "It's almost time," he informed, flatly. At first Wendy stared at him in confusion, startled by the seriousness of his voice. But eventually she nodded with acknowledgment.

"Mikhail's 'Operation Jericho'," she mused softly.

Kenny removed his hand and let it fall to his side lamely. He returned to his post, to watching the snow fall. The last peaceful sight he'd see in a while. "And the walls will come tumbling down," he mumbled just before the door leading inside closed behind Wendy.

"Step one," Kenny reviewed to himself out loud, confident no one could hear the nervousness in his voice. "Rendezvous at the Rebel starting position; re-read everyone's roles and instructions."

"Step two," he continued in a monotone. "Send out assigned teams; take out all monitoring cameras simultaneously."

"Step three: Once all cameras are destroyed, rally troops at the front gate; set off explosives and rush inside."

"Step four: Teams split up; destroy the enemy base from the inside. Team one demolish walls with detonation devices. Team two locate armory and plant more explosives. Team three defends the front gate as an escape route and also supply diversionary fire. Team four… infiltrate and capture leader."

Kenny's gloved hand clenched at his side and quivered with anger. It had to be him. It was only right that he be the one to be Team four and capture Kyle. He couldn't let his reign of terror go on, not as long as Kenny continued to call him his friend. Friends don't let friends be heartless. Things had to change, and by Kenny's hand.

XXXXX

Nearly midnight… step one had been successfully carried out. Everyone was in position. Kenny couldn't help but smirk to himself as he ducked behind the same boulder he hid in from Craig just days earlier. "Oh Craig," he chuckled under his breath. "Thanks for marking the cameras for us. And in such a vibrant red too. How festive. I guess 'X' truly does mark the spot."

Kenny brought his walkie-talkie to his lips and whispered through the phone. "If everyone is in position, commence step two in 3… 2… 1… fire!"

All at once five fingers pulled five triggers on five electro magnetic wave guns so courteously provided by Mikhail and his Russian technicians. Almost instantly the flashing red lights on the cameras went out.

An Arbiter at his station let out a gasp as all his outside surveillance screens exploded into a loud white noise. He quickly clicked a few keys, turned a few knobs, and rearranged a few wires, but nothing he did made the picture come back. He wheeled on his chair across the room and expertly flipped open the phone. "We have a Code 32," he barked through the receiver. "Camera's monitoring Rebel movements have been disabled. I repeat: camera's monitoring Rebel movements have been disabled."

Not thirty seconds later, yellow lights were flashing and alarms were going off. Stan, who was already getting dressed, still thinking about him and Kyle naked together in one bed, looked up with wonderment. "Yellow," he said, rifling through his memory to tell him what the color meant. "That's an impending assault on the fortress."

Soldiers were already racing through the halls, some in full uniform, others just waking up barely keeping hold of their automatic weapons. Kyle glanced through his doorway, perfectly dressed and itching to move. He fingered his gun almost obsessively but Cooper cleared his throat.

"Stay where you are, Mr. Broflovski," he ordered patiently, sipping from a mug of coffee. "I think you'll find you'll be much safer here in your office with me."

"How can you be so calm?" Kyle shouted, forgetting his place. He was too lost in that frozen smile that sent shivers down his spine.

"A man in my position must learn to hold all the cards," Cooper chortled, laying down his steaming cup. "And if you find yourself in the position in which you aren't …" he wrapped his fingers together and folded his hands in front of his face, the yellow lights dancing across his shimmering glasses. "You have to always be prepared with an ace up your sleeve."

The front door to the Arbiter's base splintered into shrapnel as a bomb behind it detonated. Through the smoke, five figures could be seen standing menacingly, just waiting for the order to move. The middle form lifted its hand, signaling the others to attack.

Stan could hear gun shots as he dashed through the halls, a sword bobbing up and down in its sheath at his waist. Instead of turning right toward the firing bullets, he skidded down the left hallway and straight toward Kyle's room. He glared inside at Cooper before wordlessly slamming the metal door shut.

"What a loyal dog," Cooper mused to himself at the sight of Stan's defense of the door. "Coming right to his master's aid."

"He's mine!" Kyle shouted, clenching his jaw.

"Oh?" Cooper returned, not in the least surprised.

Kyle turned to face him and jabbed one deft finger at the Chancellor. "He's my tool!" he growled. "And I refuse to lend him to anyone. Don't you get any ideas, you hear?"

For just a moment, Cooper's face showed the slightest hint of bewilderment. But just as quickly his devilish smirk returned. "What spirit you have."

"Butters! Jimmy!" Kenny yelled with a forceful command. "I'm making a change to the plan. Find the armory, set up your little presents there. Then make your way to the communications room. Clear it out. Send a message to Mikhail's men. I've changed my mind; I want his help after all."

"Sir, yes, sir," Butters and Jimmy saluted as if ordered by a general, and away they went into the endless maze of hallways. Satisfied, Kenny dashed in the opposite direction. He had to find Kyle and quick. That was his main objective.

"Kenny!" Wendy shouted after him. "You can't go alone, it's too dangerous!" The blonde wasn't listening and continued on his way. "Grr, you stubborn ass! Here!" She tossed Bebe her backpack, who looked up at her in surprise.

"But I'm supposed to defend the entrance and you're supposed to plant bombs on the walls!"

Wendy chose her weapon carefully, a shining and polished rapier. "I'm making my own changes to this plan. You work the bombs, I'm going after Kenny, and we'll leave the entrance undefended. If we have to we can always make a new exit!"

Bebe didn't question, she knew that time was of the essence and that Wendy couldn't be talked out of something once she had her mind set on it. The black haired heroine traced Kenny's steps until she finally caught up with him.

Kenny was face to face with what seemed like an apparition; a ghost from some long forgotten past. Kenny's hand was trembling as he aimed his pistol at the defender, none other than Stan Marsh. Stan was calm and expressionless, a sword held steadily in his hand.

"Don't be stupid, Kenny," he warned, his voice strangely hollow. "At this range I'll slice your arm off before you could even fire a bullet."

Kenny swallowed hard, knowing full well that Stan wasn't bluffing. He never was one to lie or exaggerate. If Stan was so confident in his skills, then Kenny truly didn't have a chance. His pride was torn! Flee and come back another day? Or risk it all for an end to the corruption?

"Stan," Wendy called weakly as she walked slowly forward. "You don't want to do this. I know you."

"You don't know shit," Stan corrected simply, his words void of any malice; as if he were just stating a fact. "137, Wendy," he said to her, keeping his eyes intently on Kenny and his quivering gun. "I've killed 137 people over the past few years. I remember the numbers. I remember their faces, too."

He looked at her finally, his deep blue eyes glowing with sorrow. "Please," he begged. "I don't want you to be one of those faces. I don't want you to be just another number…."

"There was a time when I loved you, Stan," Wendy pointed out, her voice as laden with sadness just as much as his was. "But not like this. I accepted you and Kyle, I really did. But I can't accept what you've become now. If I have to fix it, I will." She raised her sword steadily and cautiously stepped forward, ready for the worst.

"I never wanted this," Stan pleaded, shaking his head.

"But you let it happen anyway…."

"SAY WHAT YOU WANT!" Stan snapped, flailing his arms. "If I have to bear your contempt in order to protect Kyle, then I'll gladly do so!"

Stan felt cold steel at the back of his neck. His eyes widened with realization. Wendy had successfully stolen his attention away from Kenny. "Stan," the blonde whispered, his gun to his friend's head. "Back down. Please." Stan offered no reply, but dropped his sword with a resonating clatter. "Wendy, take him prisoner."

"What's this?" growled a voice from behind them all. "Stan, I'm very disappointed." Kenny didn't turn around until Stan had been securely tied and held hostage by Wendy. He didn't need to see who it was, he could tell by their voice.

"We're taking him hostage, Kyle," Kenny replied, finally turning to face the red head. "Unless you want to fight for him?"

"Go ahead, get him out of my sight," Kyle spat with a shrug.

"What?" Stan shrieked, lifting his head up from defeat with a jolt.

Kyle glared into his very soul and sneered. "What's the point of a tool if it can't be used? You let your emotions get in the way. If you fail me once, you'll most always fail a second time. I can't possibly use a dog that's both lame and dumb!"

Listening to Kyle, Stan's bottom lip began to shake. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes as he gasped for breath. How could he be saying this? He's never heard Kyle act this way. What's happened?

"Look at you!" Kyle continued with a click of his tongue. "You're even crying now!" He gestured towards Kenny, his lips curled in disgust. "Why don't you just shoot him and get this pathetic excuse for a guard out of my misery."

"I don't understand," Stan sobbed, unable to keep from weeping. "All… a-all I've ever… e-ever d-d-done was protect you. All I've e-ever done w-was… love you!"

Kyle remained motionless, his eyes intent and cold. Stan's eyes grew wide in horror. This time he knew that Kyle had heard him… and this time it was clear that he was just refusing to answer. His body going limp, Stan drooped to the floor, the will to live utterly drained from his body. Broken.

"Get him out of here," Kenny ordered over his shoulder. "Get him back to the base." Wendy complied silently and dragged the doll-like Stan away. Kyle had turned back into his office and Kenny raced after him, kicking the door back open before it had the chance to shut.

"KYLE!" he bellowed, his voice booming through the entire fortress.

"Please keep your voice down," a man said coolly, his dark back towards Kenny. "It's bad enough to have these yellow lights flashing, and the sirens. I don't need you adding to my head ache." Steadily the man turned around, and Kenny's jaw dropped.

"Cooper," he whispered breathlessly. "I don't believe it. I come here thinking to end tyranny in South Park, but now I find that with a single bullet… I can end tyranny in the entire country."

"Don't be too sure of yourself," Cooper simpered, as calm and collected as could be. "You haven't won yet."

"Our mission was a total success," Kenny shot back. "We've invaded your precious fortress with hardly any opposition and now, I'm going to end it!"

"Kenny!" a voice came over the walkie-talkie. "It's me, Butters. We've finished everything! Even got a message out to Mikhail! We-"

The line went dead and Kenny fumbled with the device, calling Butters' and Jimmy's name alike, but all that he got in return was more static. "What happened?" he cursed angrily.

"I'm afraid your friends have been captured," Cooper smiled, holding his hands behind his back.

"How could they be captured?!" Kenny shouted at him in rage. "Mikhail's plan was ingenious! Perfect!"

"Ah, yes," Cooper nodded reverently. "My old friend Mikhail. He's quite the thinker, I'll give him that." Cooper elegantly lifted his hand, and his sleeve fell down his arm, revealing a very posh Rolex. He laughed heartily to himself as he read the watch. "But the man has absolutely no concept of time!"

There was a ruckus outside and Kenny looked behind him to see three fully armed Arbiters just waiting for him to make a move. Awestruck and dumbfounded, he turned listlessly back to Cooper who continued smiling in the most genuine of fashions. He spied the watch ticking upon his wrist as it read 11: 42 pm.

"B-but," Kenny stuttered. "The mission was supposed to be at midnight! I was sure of it!"

"And indeed it was!" Cooper assured. "My watch however is set to Western time. Let me explain: about an hour ago, I received a call from one my Arbiter's fortresses in what used to be the state of Maine. They reported that they were caught by surprise by a massive offensive by Rebel forces and were compelled to retreat. Within ten minutes of each other I received similar calls across the entire Eastern expanse of my empire."

"It was then that I understood Mikhail's blunder. He had intended for every Rebel station to invade Arbiter fortresses at exactly the same time: midnight. Unfortunately he never took into account time zones. An hour ago, Maine was attacked. Right now, South Park, and in less than twenty minutes, California will be assaulted in a similar fashion; in which I can assure you my troops will be lying in wait for the Rebel scum."

"You see?" Cooper continued, his voice cheerful and bright. "We knew you coming all along. I mean, why build a better mouse trap, when all you have to do is lure the mice to you? Ingenious? Mikhail is ingenious, you say?" Cooper lowered his eyes, and bore his teeth in a stunning grin. "Care to restate your claim, son?"

Without waiting for a rebutle, Kenny whirled around and fired three succinct bullets into the Arbiters behind him. Before they could get up, Kenny was already down the hall and leagues ahead of them.

"Let him go," Cooper instructed, softly. "We've got his two friends, and he's got on of ours. No doubt he'll be back later, willing to negotiate."

Kenny panted heavily as he raced out the front gate, Operation Jericho completely abandoned; his pride and his sentiments crumbling.