Invasion – Chapter 2
A/N: Guess I have to hurry up and post another part since nobody seemed offended by my last. Usually I prefer doing longer chapters but in the case of these sort of fics, shorter's probably better.
The deafening screams of Butters as he was hauled away by the mass of totally unrealistic yet somehow existent girls was heart-wrenching, but the boys in the household knew there was nothing that could now be done to save the naïve blond. He should've been warned. How had they failed to have educated him on such horrific matters? Such a widespread and engulfing dilemma?
Alas, it was too late now.
"P, pardon me," a high, rather polite-sounding voice, tinged with fear, cut through the stillness, "I'm not quite sure what I was just unfortunate enough to have witnessed. Could somebody please explain?"
All eyes in the room turned towards the towheaded blond who had spoken, then shifted to the dark, pale individual beside him, accusingly. Another one? What had Damien been thinking? Not warning his lover of what lurked out there, on the edge of humanity. Beings of darkness and evil. Not quite human, but not quite beast. Something else entirely. They could understand Cartman not mentioning it to Butters, he was nothing but a sex slave to him, but Damien? Glowering, overprotective Damien?
Well at least this one they could still save. He had been spared, for the moment anyway. Pip hadn't been blind-sided like poor, poor, innocent Butters. Still, there was no saying what would come next. The town had been invaded and truly, none of them were safe now. Not from...
"Mary Sues," a deep voice spoke from a darkened corner. Despite the bright winter sunlight washing in through the large picturesque windows, somehow this corner remained as black as night. Like somebody, perhaps an epic sort of mouse, had smeared over the entire area with a dripping black quill. A burning red dot, a smoldering ember, moved through the darkness, up towards where a head would be level on an average-sized man. The dot burned brighter for a moment, and a cloud of acrid smoke drifted upwards through the impenetrable darkness. "The scourge of the modern day."
This particular voice was a rather distinct, some would even claim dreamy, voice. Rarely heard around these parts unfortunately, for all those who were blessed to encounter it would find themselves as entranced as if the sirens themselves were serenading them. Today, the owner of the voice just happened to have crawled through the Broflovski's upstairs window in an attempt to seek out a certain redhead.
"Pardon? I don't believe I have had the pleasure of making acquaintance with a 'Mary Sue?'"
"Then you're lucky kid," the warm, syrupy voice oozed. His heavy boots echoed off the spotless wooden floor as he stepped out into the sunlight, his tawny eyelids lowered as if the sunlight would burn him to ash right there. A grim expression spread across a lean, handsome face, smeared with dirt and soot. "I've seen this before. In the Les Miserables fandom. I was the only survivor."
"Stop it," a nasally, rather bitchy voice barked out. "You're scaring Tweek."
"Oh, he should be scared," the Frenchman responded, making a sudden swivel in his boots and taking a menacing step to where two boys, one in a blue hat and the other with wild, spiky blond hat, sat, sharing a beanbag chair directly in front of the television. "Do you know what they'll do to him if they get hold of him?"
"What?" The sudden scream from the blond was both shocking and grating, causing several of the boys to jump a foot or two in their seats. Stan grabbed hold of Kyle as they both landed, crushing him against his side protectively.
"He's just trying to scare you Tweek, don't provoke him," Craig spoke with tight lips, rubbing soothing circles on the blond's palm while his other hand stroked his soft yellow hair as if he were a snarling kitten.
"Don't hide it from him Tucker. You know what they'll do. First, they'll take away his coffee, so he can be 'strong' and 'protective' and 'capable.'"
"They wouldn't!" Tweek protested vehemently.
"Christophe, stop it right now," Kyle repeated Craig's earlier command.
"Then, they'll convince him he's in love with one of them. Somebody 'perfect.' Her name will be something like 'Shining Thunder' or 'Miyako Ann Pastel Moonbeam Charlotte Vampira George.' She'll have 'long shimmering black hair with silver highlights and matching eyes that gleam like the moon' or 'the ability to juggle four cats while playing Beethoven on the bass guitar, cooking a souffle, and doing her AP and honors homework.'"
"I'm allergic to cats!" Tweek squeaked out pathetically, tears starting to form in the corner of his big hazel eyes.
"She'll have the personality of a tea cozy," Christophe continued, his voice lowering dramatically. "But somehow, nobody really knows how, maybe it's drugs, maybe it's mind control, she'll make him fall in love with her."
"Ahh! My mind! I need it to think! Craig you promised me if I took off my aluminum foil hat this wouldn't happen!"
"I told you the aliens wouldn't be able to read your thoughts, I never said anything about Mary Sues controlling your brain!'
This wasn't right. They were starting to argue amongst themselves now. It was a bad sign. As if the Mary Sues' gas was already starting to fill the house, leak into their brains, taking control.
"Christophe! I mean it, stop it right now!" The shrill voice of the token Jew was as obvious and non-threatening as a kitten crying for attention. Christophe continued unheeded.
"No Kyle, if he wants to protect himself, he has to know. Tweek, when they have you wrapped around their little finger, simpering after them, complimenting every piece of clothing, every lock of hair, every horrible pun and badly constructed attempt at wit...THEY STRIKE!"
"NO!"
"Yes! That is when you'll find yourself forced to become their sex slave. You'll grow a six-pack and a well pronounced happy trail. Your penis will triple in size, so much it'll probably impede your ability to walk or fit through doors. And somehow, the sight of their wet, oozing, toxic, noxious-"
"NO! IT'LL EAT ME! I HAVE TO ESCAPE! I HAVE TO HIDE! AHHHHH!"
With that simple, yet profound message delivered, the hyperactive coffee addict was out of Craig's lap and up the stairs before another word could be uttered.
And so we come to the end of this chapter.
Should I even bother continuing?