Just a warning, I also do not write out Christophe/The Mole's accent in the chapters that contain him. Please review! This is one of my favourite chapters, so please tell me what you thought of it! Thanks!

-Hollow

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The following Saturday was the warmest day that winter, and the ice over Stark's Pond was turned to slush. The clouds were long fish bones in the dark blue sky. The air was thick in Cartman's basement, the fan cutting through it lazily as it spun above them.

Cartman had hung up a blue banner, displaying the newest logo for Coon and Friends in dark black acrylic paints. A long table was set in the middle of the room, and a few extra gadgets and additions to their newest headquarters sat around them. Cartman took his place at the head of the table, his hair smoothed back and his face hidden by his raccoon mask.

"Alright, let's begin this meeting with the introduction of our newest member."

Dog Poo stood at the foot of the stairs. He wore green ski goggles and a yellow pair of gardening gloves, but his attire remained unchanged otherwise. The dirt on his face had been streaked to look like a pair of cat whiskers on his cheeks.

"Who's he supposed to be?"

"Professor; Lady Justice; Patriotic Paraplegic; I'd like you to greet Cat Piss."

Wendy waved awkwardly as he took his seat beside Butters. She folded her arms in her lap. She hadn't been so sure about what to do with her cape when she sat down, so it poked strangely out from the folding chair she had been placed in.

"Anyway, we're going to make a promise not to leave Coon and Friends 2, even after I announce my new plan, got it?" Cartman asked.

"Affirmative, Coon," Wendy replied.

"Hey, uh, I-I thought I was supposed to be a villain…" Butters trailed off.

"You're on our side now! Now, repeat after me: I pledge allegiance—"

Jimmy cleared his throat. Cartman sighed heavily.

He started again, "I parapledge allegiance, to the Coon and Friends, that I will not leave and turn against the league, no matter what the Coon's next plan may be."

He waited patiently for everyone to finish reciting his words and he smiled, pleased that everyone had automatically complied. They fell into a brief silence, awaiting his next announcement.

After a moment, Jimmy asked, "What's your big plan anyway?"

"We need something to fight against in order to get on the news, correct?"

"What are you getting at," Wendy asked.

"We're going to summon Damien!"

Wendy gave him a confused look. Her eyebrows knit together. Of course she remembered the young demon. He'd transferred into their class in fourth grade, and he'd been a character difficult to forget. Then again, she could also recall clearly his father taking him back to the seventh layer to finish his 'training' or something relative.

"His dad's been trying to keep him in Hell since fifth grade, Cartman," Wendy remarked.

"Yeah, but it's totally cool. If we open a portal to Hell, we get to fight all his demon buddies and save South Park! That's an awesome news story in itself," he argued. He was determined to not let his plan get shot down.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Butters said, straining to keep his voice steady. "My Dad wouldn't like it if he found out we sent a bunch of demons out on our own town."

"Do we even have any books on that?"

A dog started to bark loudly outside the small square window that let light into the basement. Cartman groaned in frustration.

"Who the fuck brought a dog to our meeting?"

Dog Poo uttered out a quiet apology.

"Whatever." He paused. Then, ordered, "Just find a way to open that portal!"

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"Shh, I can't hear what they're saying!" Kyle hissed, crouching beside the window to Cartman's basement. His cheeks and nose were flushed bright red, like they normally did when he stayed out too long in even mildly cold weather. His gloved hands were planted firmly in the sludge of snow, and he didn't mind if his pants got soaked as he leaned in to get a better look. He declared himself best at reading lips, and it was his job to be translator.

"Okay, they're sitting down," he narrated aloud. "Is that Wendy?"

"Aw, fuck, she's working with Cartman?" Stan moaned. He moved closer to the window, sitting down next to Kyle. Their arms brushed together, and he shot backwards, alarmed. Kyle didn't turn from the window.

"Hey, I—holy shit!"

"You cussed, I'm telling Mom," Ike sang teasingly. He stood in front of one of the hedges by the front porch, his face turned toward the empty street.

"Shut up, Ike," Kyle shot back.

"What's happening?" Stan asked.

Kyle turned his head to catch Stan's gaze. "I think he said he wanted to summon Damien!"

"What the hell?"

"Literally." Kyle grinned his usual half smile when he'd said something clever and he knew it.

Ike caught something moving in the corner of his eye. Its skin was flabby and hung around it loosely, like a coat. Its face appeared mashed, dark round eyes glaring at him. It snuffled and grunted menacingly, and saliva dripped down its large jaw. And it was only about one foot tall.

The bulldog ran toward Ike, barking and snarling. Its leash had been wrung around one of the snow covered logs beside the front steps.

"Fuck!" Ike jumped out of its reach. He bolted down the street.

"Ike, hold on—" Kyle said, frantically trying to get away from the window. Stan hovered beside him, trying to keep the dog quiet, but it wasn't working. Kyle grabbed Stan's hand and pulled himself up.

"Run," Ike called, lingering at the corner before continuing to put distance between him and the dog at Cartman's house. Stan and Kyle finally caught up when he stopped in front of a pale green house. Ike doubled over, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was close," Stan sighed.

"Ike, stay out of this, okay? If you get attacked by a demon, Mom's gonna kill me!" Kyle said.

He pulled his blue jacket around him closer. He frowned, but nodded. "I'll tell her you're staying with Stan again," he said. Ike called out a good luck before running off in the direction of their street, making a point in staying as far from the yelping dog as possible.

Stan tugged one of his gloves off and shook it. It was still somewhat damp with melted snow. He stuffed his hand back inside and started to walk up toward his house. Kyle matched his pace, his eyes downcast. Stan could tell he was thinking, and he knew what was coming next.

"We have to tell someone," Kyle said.

"Yeah, because someone's gonna know how to help us," Stan scoffed. He drifted to the opposite edge of the sidewalk, a gaping space set between him and Kyle. "They probably don't even know how to open it."

"I guess so," Kyle murmured, uncertain. "You think we can talk them out of it?"

"I'm not talking to Wendy, and—and Cartman would never let you convince him not to do it. That'd probably just motivate him more."

They stopped at the next corner. An SUV clicked on its blinker and turned down the street they were about to cross. The space between the two of them had grown.

"Stan."

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Kyle was watching him carefully. Stan could see a few frizzier curls tucked behind his ears, as if he were trying to hide them from anyone and everyone.

"I had a weird dream," Stan admitted. He laughed. Stuck his hands in his pockets. "It's probably nothing, but it kinda threw me off."

"Did you dream the son of the antichrist would be paying us a visit?" Kyle chuckled.

"I'm secretly clairvoyant." He wiggled his eyebrows. Kyle broke into a grin. Stan stepped off the curb, continuing up the street. Kyle faltered beside him.

"I have to go to Kenny's," Kyle said. "I'll see you later, alright?"

"Sure," Stan agreed, and he paused to watch his friend run across the side street and head toward the other side of town.

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As Butters and Dog Poo Petuski helped Jimmy up the stairs, Cartman took off his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose. The dog had stopped barking outside, and the only sound was the slice of the fan above and a few doors opening and closing as the others left. Wendy crossed her ankles under the table.

"Any ideas?"

Wendy pressed her lips together. Of course she had ideas, but she wasn't sure if they were what Cartman wanted to hear. They mostly consisted of human sacrifices, and in those scenarios they coincidentally had to use Token for various reasons. She'd kept her temper under control for the span of the meeting, but she felt it bubbling under her skin again without something to distract her.

"Well...we need to talk to someone who's died before," she said slowly.

"Oh, that's-"

Eric almost offered Kenny, but he recalled how well it had gone last time he'd mentioned the blonde dying. He seemed to be the only one who actually realized that Kenny continuously returned. Not even Stan and Kyle could say for sure that Kenny returned. Cartman had already tried various operations to prove they'd all experienced a glitch in the Matrix. Rather than having to explain to Wendy the strange resurrections Kenny had managed to pull off time and time again, he racked his brain to pick out someone who'd come back from Hell itself.

"Wait. What about the Mole?"

Wendy brightened. "Yeah! I still have Gregory's number on my phone, actually..." She trailed off as she reached down into her boot and pulled out her cell. It was a bit beaten up around the edges, and was extremely outdated when placed beside Bebe's.

"Are you really going to call him right now?"

"Yeah, why not," she shrugged. "Demon conjuration spells might take a while to pull off."

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and flipped the phone open. Cartman watched her as she trained her attention on locating the correct number. She pressed a button and put the phone up to her ear.

"What if he changed his number or something-?"

She shushed him, flicking her hand at him hectically. Cartman could hear the static filled message playing back. He caught the word "redirected" and a string of numbers. Wendy looked back at the key pad and entered the new number in.

"Did you get-"

"Be quiet, Cartman!"

He bit back a retort when she started speaking into the phone. Her voice became practiced and polite, as if there were some sort of telephone etiquette he was missing out on. She thanked him multiple times, and when she hung up, Cartman bothered her until she told him what he couldn't hear.

"He said he'd get Christophe, and that they would be happy to help me," Wendy said. "I doubt it's going to be cheap, Eric. They said this whole summoning thing has a specific ritual he needs to follow in order to bring a regular demon to the surface, let alone one of royalty."

He frowned. "Hey, I never agreed to giving them anything! The cheap bastards are going to rob us of our money. I bet it's all part of some weird mercenary scam!"

The ground below them began to shake and rumble. Wendy grabbed the edge of the table, trying to keep herself from falling out of her chair. Cartman went tumbling to the floor, flinging obscenities as he did so.

"You said he was getting Christophe, did he fucking mean right now?"

"That's what he told me!" Wendy's stomach tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut. She'd had plenty of Stan's barf on her clothes in the fourth grade. She really didn't want to add some of her own to the collection.

The room calmed, and the basement floor was split. The darkened opening to a cavernous tunnel was left behind. Cartman coughed and sat upright, squinting as he saw the familiar outline of a boy with dark, messy hair appear in the cloud of dust. Wendy's head was still spinning when the Mole helped Gregory up and into the basement.

"Sorry about our entrance," Christophe said gruffly, his accent blurring his words. He flicked the butt of his burnt out cigarette back into the crawlspace. Gregory slicked his hand through his hair and straightened his posture.

"Pleasure to see you again, Wendy." He nodded curtly.

She beamed. "No, thanks for helping us. It's not every day you get to summon a demon."

Christophe chuffed and muttered under his breath,"Maybe not for you."

Gregory shot him a sharp look. The Mole glared up at him, retrieving the shovel from the loosened soil and attaching it onto the strap.

"We'll need a few days to find the proper books and ingredients for the ritual," the blonde said, turning to face her.

Christophe spat into the hole. "Tu pense que nous travaillons gratuitement?" he asked angrily.

"Right, the means of payment. I assume you've got it with you?"

Cartman reached into the folds of his Coon costume. He grumbled and handed him the large wad of bills. Gregory flipped through them, his eyebrow cocking upward.

"These are all ones-"

"I'll fill the rest of the payment later," Wendy assured him. "Thank you."

"Of course, anything for you," Gregory replied. Cartman gagged.

Christophe tugged Gregory by the collar back to the entrance of his tunnel. They disappeared in a flurry of soil, the ground buzzing low beneath their feet as the mercenaries dug in a separate direction.

"Do you think we could open the portal in front of Token's house?"

"What the fuck? Why?"

"Oh. Uh, no reason."