Let me just say I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I got pretty wrapped up in things like Rockband and Modern Warfare. Sorry =/


There are some things you don't know about Stan Marsh. Some things you don't want to know about Stan Marsh. For example, why he was really picked up by a CIA agent when he was just a bum on the streets. Do you want to know? You sure? Alright then. It all started when Stan was 16, he had already left his friends behind, this you know.

Another night on the cold dark street, the street lights were slowly turning from red to orange and Stan was in an alley behind the bar known as the Dead Horse. Stan was cold and hungry and although he didn't want to eat anything since the death of his family but he knew that he must to survive. Stan blew into his hands then opened the nearest bin and started fumbling around for a decent meal. Stan had no luck with the bins. Stan was so angry, his parents were dead, he had no food, he had turned his back on his friends and worst of all couldn't think about the redneck town without bursting into tears.

"WHY!!" Stan screamed at the heavens clenching his fists.

"WHY ME YOU BASTARD!"

The live music playing in the bar suddenly came to a halt and a wave of silence swept over the area. Stan, in his fit of rage, didn't notice this until a policeman who was in the bar at that time came out to him. Stan was on his knees, bawling at the memory which still plagued him of that dreadful car journey. All the pain, all the sob, all the people asking him that same fucking question "are you ok" "Are you alright me lad" "Get over it already it's been three months!" "ARE YOU OK MATE?" The emotions had built up inside him for so long. To long.

"Stop making a fucking disturbance and get the hell away from my bar!" yelled the policeman. The smell of alcohol lingered on his breath.

"Please sir… I'm sorry…" Stan started through tearful breaths.

The police man pulled out his baton and swung it with drunken force into Stan's stomach. Stan fell to the floor writhing in pain and clutching his stomach. This was the very last thing Stan was going to take. He sprung up and instinctively got into a fighting stance. The police man laughed and swung the baton again, this time aimed for his skull. Stan had lost control and out stretched his hand to the baton, ready to catch it. Stan felt an immense release of energy, of anger, of torment. It was like a huge stone had just been lifted from his shoulders. A searing light burst from Stan's outstretched hand and engulfed the policeman. The last thing the unfortunate policeman managed to say was a short gasp before he simply disintegrated and became part of the light. Stan could not believe what he had done. He had killed, no, obliterated a man with nothing but his hand and emotions. The light retreated into Stan's hand and he collapsed into a coma. Stan Marsh awoke from his coma one year later. He was then offered to be trained by a CIA operative. He seemed a friendly man and although he made no promises the training would be easy he promised that Stan would be looked after and taught how to utilise his gift for the good of America. Stan, knowing nothing of the man's intentions, accepted it with a grin plastered on his face. Gullible, gullible, Stan…


Stan summoned up the thoughts and memories still so vivid in his mind after all these many years. The screaming, the crunch of bones and his mother and farther hit the windshield and the sirens which broke through the darkness Stan was surrounded him. This was something he had learnt about when he was training with a physic in the early years of his training. The energy produced by his emotions could be so deep that he could use them to access the physic powers in every human mind.

Stan slowly raised his hands towards the CIA agents coming to cuff him, weapons drawn. Stan parted his hands in an abrupt motion and the two agents flew into the walls. They were helpless to the power of Stan's rampaging emotions. Stan strode towards them with menace in his eyes. He stretched his fingers then thrust them into one of the agents chests. The man screamed in agony as Stan ruthlessly dug inside his chest breaking the ribcage and clutching the fast pumping heart. Stan ripped the heart out of the man's chest. Blood spurted everywhere. The agent only remained conscious for a few more seconds to feel his own heart in his mouth before he finally died.

Witnessing this was a stunned Kayley. Stan was ripping people to shreds. Nobody could do that. Nobody would want to do that. But Stan seemed to be enjoying himself. He was about to turn to the other CIA agent when Kayley pulled out a pistol. She couldn't witness this monster do his work any more. She took careful aim and fired two shots into his head before Stan could torment him in the way that he had done to the other. Stan turned to Kayley and shrieked in rage, having been denied his kill. Kayley took aim on Stan but, luckily for Stan. His emotional store was drained. The anger faded from his face and his eyes returned from red to their normal blue. Stan slumped to the floor in a faint. Kayley didn't know what to do. Sonia did however.

"You are stronger than me, pick him up. We have to get out of here."

"What! He just ripped those men to pieces; he is not man, but a monster!"

"It is not his fault, he has… err…" Sonia struggled to explain Stan's powers to Kayley. "Just trust me on this, you can keep him at gun point if you want. I'm going to plant these charges."


Hope you like this. I just wrote what my imagination told me too!

-DaAceOfGames