So... another chapter. Enjoy!
Christophe
The American dream may never again be fulfilled. In fact, there are no more Americans, save for those that live in the underground tunnels. Patriots through and through. Fighting for the world to remember who they were and who they are. The American dream may never be fulfilled. The American pride will always exist.
There are some that hang pictures of Cartman on their doors and windows. But on most of them is a sign that I've been looking for. The clipped corner of the picture. Cartman may not understand the symbol, but I do. These are soldiers. People that will fight against him. They resent his rule. They want the world to be back to normal. Cartman may not recognize it, but that clipped corner is more than a cut piece of paper. It's a call. A call that screams for a savior. A messiah.
Some cower in their houses as they see me walk their streets. I give them the universal symbol meaning peace, and prosperity. The middle finger.
Alaska has rarely considered themselves part of America. They'll sing the national anthem, and they'll recite their prayers for the country, but none of them have felt anything towards the states. They're too secluded from them. I can see it in their eyes. Now that that seclusion has disappeared, they want it back.
You never know what you have until it's gone. I hear someone cheer as I slit a guards throat. I feel like I'm living a history book. Of Nazi Germany, during the Holocaust. Not many want to join it, but their children are being raised by it, and there's nothing they can do.
I've rarely been to this part of the UFUC before, but they've definitely heard of me. And they haven't yet heard of my betrayal. I'm beginning to wonder if they even know that an organization like La Resistance exists. Gregory drops one of our flags onto the snow.
I understand Ghalaleo35 (Email address)'s request. These people might be wishing that they can fight, but they don't know that there's still hope. They need someone to tell them. They need a symbol to rally behind. Like Kenny had said 'Mysterion had been (There we go again with that fucking name) in South Park when he was nine.
We slit the throats of every guard that we see, and I make sure that he has a specific symbol carved into his chest. LR. La Resistance.
Our plan is similar to the plan that we had in Paris, but this time we have a point that will help us with our long term goal. If we can have Cartman's own empire rise up against him, we will finally win the war against him. And I will rip out his brain with my shovel, and send him up to that bitch God so that fat bastards can live with those happy-go-lucky Mormons for the rest of his afterlife.
This time all three of us are going to speak. Kenny says that his Mysterion voice is much cooler, and so he'll be using that. Fucking cocksucker.
We've already rigged the speakers, so I just speak into the microphone. We decided to just wing it. Kenny insisted on dressing up as Mysterion, since it would be "Way cool, man!" I think it gets him horny.
"Citizens of ze formerly known state of Alaska. We 'ave come to eenform you zat zere are orgeenazations zat fights against 'is empire. You can zzjoin us."
"Our goal is to bring down Cartman, and restore order to the world. Cartman is a power hungry," Someone screams that he's always hungry and I try hard not to smirk. "Dictator who is attempting to destroy the rights of everyone who lives in his empire. If you do wish to continue to live under his name, you will find that you are not an individual, and never again shall be.." Gregory says.
"The name Eric Theodore Cartman should be a curse, uttered only by the wicked. We are here to inform you that you can fight against against him, if you find the need to, which I am sure all of you have. We do not want innocent children to be raised in a society where the leader is Eric Cartman. We want freedom, and democracy." A crowd is beginning to form around us. I can see several people nodding, and smiling.
"I 'as once Cartman's right 'and man. You probably know me as Chreestophe DeLorne, physopazic murderer." I can see a few people scowl at my name, and someone grabs a knife from his belt. Well fuck. "I 'ave seen ze error een my ways, by joineeng 'is side. I 'ope zat all of you do as well. I am now beeeng 'unted down by 'im like prey. 'E probably 'asn't even told you zat I am a 'traitor' oui. I urge you all to zzjoin our side. ZZjoin La Reseestance."
"In the following days Cartman will claim that he has destroyed us, but he does not even know where we stay. Know this, and know now. La Resistance cannot be stopped. La Resistance was. La Resistance is. La Resistance will be. No one can, and no one will stop us. Join us! Fight for freedom! Fight for Liberty! Fight for Justice! Fight!" Most people in the crowd cheer. I can definitely see a change in Kenny. Maybe he and Mysterion are two different people. He pulls a picture of Cartman, and drops it on the floor. Before I can bash it with my shovel, he lights a Roman Candle, and throws it onto the picture. It takes a second before it's nothing, but ash.
I can see the guards beginning to arrive at the scene. It only takes a moment before the crowd begins to get violent. One of the soldiers is decapitated. Fucking good warriors. Good editions.
"Tell ze ozzairres zat we are out zere. Recruit. Train. Fight. And keell ze monstrosity zat we call Cartman." I turn, to smirk at Mysterion, but I find that he isn't there. Gregory points to a section in the front of the now-violent crowd. Mysterion is going all out, kicking people in the throat, punching in the face, slicing with his knives. He pulls out a 45. and shoots one of the bastards in the left shoulder. I'm going to take a guess as to why.
"I'm not letting him have all the fun." Gregory says, unsheathing his sword. Next thing I know, we're both cutting through the armed guards. Wait. Armed?
"Zey 'ave guns!" Fuck! Normally they only carry knives, because 'Cartman has had bad memories with nuts and guns.' Don't ask me.
"Do you zink zis ees funny God? Do you?" I scream at the guy, as I bash someone's head in.
"Shut up Mole! And you bastards!" Gregory yells, swinging his sword at another guard. We're all wearing armor (except Kenny). We've learned our lesson. Speaking of Kenny, the rats are eating at his corpse. No idea how he died this time, but I'm guessing it's courtesy of the guns. I grab the 45. from the body, and aim it at the guards. I had a gun like this at the base. It fires into the crowd, picking out a massive guard. He takes a minute to die.
"We heard that you'd be coming. In fact, we sent that request." The fat son of a whore (literally) himself recites. Everyone grows quiet. "Fear not citizens, this was just a test. There is no rebellion, but I fear that this part of my empire may fall soon. Unless, you give me him." His gaze falls on me. I snarl, and pull the trigger. No gun shot sounds. Fuck, out of ammo. I'm not afraid. These people will, and can fight. I know it. Gregory waves his sword, and I pull out my shovel. "Your decision citizens. His life for yours."
"Cocksucker!" I manage to say, before a handful of people lunge at me. Gregory leaps to stop them, but the crowd holds him back. And I realize. These people are willing to fight back. Until they realize who they're fighting against.
Someone knocks my shovel out of my hands, and I immediately know that I'm fucked. I lunge for it, and grab onto the handle. Someone tries to pull me back, but the appliance digs into the ground, and in a second I'm completely submerged.
My digging speed has increased over the past four years. I'm able to dig Gregory into the tunnel, and close it up in another second.
"Zey'll ztart deeging soon. Zey will capture you to use agaeenst me. Try to keep up." Have you ever wondered why Flash never smashes into anything, and gets his skull crushed by a sign? Simple. Slow motion. When going in incredibly past speeds the world around you seems to slow down. What feels like five minutes is actually a second. What feels like an hour is a minute. Someone who's running looks like they're simply stopped. That's how Flash doesn't die by running into a car. That's how I feel when I dig. And yes I'm comparing myself to a superhero. Fuck off cocksucker.
I can still hear Cartman bragging about how I renounced my faith. I snort. I never had any faith in the first place. I can hear him ordering for Sarah Palin to show him where Russia is so he can conquer it. Fucking dumbass.
He orders his guards to slaughter the crowd. I can hear their screams. I start to dig. Gregory seems completely calm. I've known him long enough to know that he really is. He's never been afraid of everything. He'd take a bullet in stride. That's why I'm around. I have to make sure that he doesn't.
My feet tap against the dirt rhythmically. My shovel moves in pace with the tapping. I can hear Gregory running behind me, but in my mind it's as if he's going at the slowest pace imaginable. I call for him to speed up, and he tells me to slow down.
And I dig.
I reach port about an hour later. I wait another three hours for him to reach the boat. And we sail. And I hyperventilate. And then we dig. And then I'm home.
Our weekly routine. We don't dare go back to my old base. I consider it Cartman's now. We recruit, we work, we return home. And sometimes one of us has to stay back. And sometimes Kenny dies. The kids at the base get restless and we have to promise 'It'll get heated up again. Cartman will fall,' when we don't believe it ourselves.
Cartman's empire grows. he has control of all of Central America now. It's only a matter of time before he has complete control of South America. Regardless of the times, We recruit, we work, we return home.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Ike chants. It's been over three years since Cartman took over. He's six now. And he's learned how to fight. So have the rest of us. Stan and Kyle hold classes whenever we're away.
Times have gotten so bad with the economy that we've had to send Craig, Clyde, and Tweek (stupidly) on missions of their own. Craig just went along with it. Clyde asked if he'll die and to make sure that he won't. Tweek offered his life's savings in exchange for not having to do the missions, screaming about how the gnomes will get him. I told him to shove it up his ass.
"What?" My voice is still slurred from sleep. We just got back from one of our missions and collapsed on the dirt beds we'd formed. His screaming had jerked the entire base awake.
"That bastard!"
"What is it Ike?" Clyde asks.
"Oh my god man! THEY DID IT! THEY BOMBED THEMSELVES. THEY FIGURED OUT WHERE WE ARE! I don't want to die man! God help us! Idon'twanttodieidon'twanttodieandCartmanfoundusa ndhe'lleatusand…"
"Shut up Tweek." Craig snaps. The overly-caffeinated boy takes his cup of coffee off of the table, and starts to drink. We always make sure to have whiskey and coffee.
"What did they -aw shit!- do?"
"I reckoned they hurt themselves, right Ike did they hurt themselves? They probably bombed themselves to death." Butters says.
"Oh my. I do hate to see other children dying. I've faced it myself, and it hurts a whole lot. And the process of being brought back hurts even worse, which is why Damien (Bless his heart) probably did such a thing to me." Pip shrinks back at our negative comments.
"Just tell us what the big deal is Ike." His older brother says.
"He- He took England." Gregory tenses. I see Wendy squeeze his hand. Stan glares at them, not caring about the news that he received. None of us will ever change.
Gregory's parents are probably dead. Too bad, they might have fought for us.
"Why would they give England to him?"
"He's found out how to use the missiles." Fillmore says. Ike's been teaching him how to hack into Cartman's database.
"Kenny how's Damien?"
"He's not planning anything. That's what Satan said." The others give him weird looks, but I shake my head.
"Ze pussy could be lyeeng. 'E can be a deeck when he wants to. 'E's probably useeng Damien to seeeze control."
"He's too much of a pussy. He can't manipulate, or even order for shit." Great job picking the ruler of Hell, you fucking bastard. Great fucking job. And just make sure that his son is a psychopathic murderer while you're at it, you fucking dick, God.
"He's reached the middle east."
"Oui. We 'ave to stop 'im. No more seeting on out asses asking zat faggot to 'please take down Cartman for us, so we don't 'ave to do any fuckeeng work.'"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Christophe's right," Red starts. I flip her off. "We have to do something."
"What Red? What should we do?" Token snaps.
"I'm ze one zat asked ze fuckeeng said zat!"
"Yes, but you're insane. Now what Red?"
"I don't know, but we should fight back! We've just been sitting around like fools, watching Cartman take over the world. We have to take back control, or we'll be on the run forever!"
"She's right. He's just going to widen his rein until everything is under his control," Gregory says. "We fight, or we die. And I don't want to die." I glare at him.
"I'm zay one zat suggested zat we fight, beetch!"
"You want us to fight beaches?" I slam my head against the wall.
"You zink zis ees funny? Eet's not, you fuckeeng faggot!" I scream at my mortal enemy. God, obviously. "Why? Why do you chose to make my life a leeveeng 'Ell? Why me, and not Cartman or some ozzairre piece of sheet?"
"He's lost it." Flora feels the need to say. I want to snap at her, but I tell myself to shut up. See I can listen to orders.
"We need a plan." Stan says.
"I don't have one." Gregory responds.
"I do." And of course, no one listens. Fucking bitches.
"Attack his rear." Scott says, his mad eyes watching us.
"This isn't a time for jokes Scott, we're gonna die." Kyle snaps. I'm the only one that understands his reasoning.
"'E's right. Ze guards slack off een regards to ze back of 'is base. I can get eenside. Eef we can do zat I can steal one of ze uneeforms, and pose as one of 'is guards. Zen I shoot 'is brains out of 'is 'ead."
"That's cliché." Clyde says, and I shook him a glare. Fucking dick should be on a mission by now. But no they 'need a vacation or Tweek will murder us'. Pussies.
"Look guys, even if it's cliché Cartman's going to take France soon. They'll surrender to him immediately!" Kenny states 'helpfully'.
"Fuck off!" I snap, grabbing a shovel from the wall, and running over to him. I raise it over my head, ready to smash it down.
Someone tackles me from the side, smashing me into a wall. "What the fuck is wrong with you Christophe?" Kyle. Per-fucking-fect. Coming to save the immortal from certain death. Fun stuff.
"He gets this way sometimes. It's his way of dealing with stress," The British faggot explains. Stress? I don't get stressed. I'm Christophe DeLorne, the Mole. I don't get fucking stressed. Even if this cocksucker thinks that I do, apparently. "Now about planning. We'll need someone on the inside. Christophe can't do it. The guards will recognize him immediately. We need someone who's been on the inside, knows the base, but has not been seen my most (Preferably any) of the guards. I can't do it either. I'm on the run from Cartman. Everyone in the United Federation knows who I am. Kenny, Tweek, Clyde, and Craig are the same way."
"I'll do it." His words make sense, but knowing Gregory, he makes sure that he doesn't show a positive reaction.
"You said that you don't know the routes." He rubs his tattoo absent mindedly. 666. Damien probably did that.
"During the beginning of the imprisonment Cartman showed me around the base to mock me that he owned all that, while I was trapped in a cell all day. I make sure to take a good look at everything, just in case I did escape." Stan explains. Cartman never told me about that. Fucking bastard.
"You sure that you won't be recognized?"
"There's a way to ensure it." He takes one look at the Goth kids, and Kyle groans. He's hated those four ever since Stan apparently joined up with them when he was eight because Wendy broke up with him.
Fucking asslicker.
"Ugh fine. There better not be a montage though." Henrietta groans. She's really starting to hate us.
"Nazi conformist cheerleaders." The youngest one snaps, and I eye him wearily. I wonder why he never sided with Cartman. He's evil enough.
Tweak
Oh Jesus man. They want me to do this introduction, but I don't know what to say. Christophe's yelling at me to talk about what scares me, and Fillmore (my psychiatrist) is telling me to talk about the gnomes.
What can I say? They track me down at night and steal my underwear so they can sell them for profit. My theory is that when they get that profit, they'll buy me as a slave, peel my flesh off layer by layer, and dump me in a pool of salt. Then they'll cook me over an open flame and I'll taste really good. And I don't want to taste good! If I taste good, everyone will think that I'm ripe for the picking. I don't want to be eaten.
Fillmore's telling me to talk about something else. Uh… Cartman's going to hurt me. He doesn't want me talking about that. This is too much pressure, man!
Why do you want to read this anyway? Are you trying to steal my secrets? Are you going to sell them to Cartman after we lose? Oh God. I don't want to lose. If I lose, I'll die. And dying is way too much pressure! Fillmore's telling me that that's enough for the introduction. He's lying!
The lake around me is calm. There's not a ripple in the surface. The son pokes through the top of the mountain, asking if it can rise for the day. The grass dances in the wind, green as the leaves on the trees. The sky is a calm blue with no clouds in sight. The lake is brown. It's made of coffee. I sit in the middle of the field of blue flowers meditating. The wind flows through my crazy blonde hair.
Nothing can hurt me here. I'm alone. No one can hurt me, and no one will try. Dad called it my happy place. Before he joined up with Cartman. I haven't trusted him since. Noo bad thoughts. No bad thoughts in paradise. That's what Fillmore says.
I breath out a sigh of relief. No gnomes can get me. Gnomes live in the real world. Paradise is free. I'm betting that that's Cartman's master plan. To unleash the gnomes upon the Earth, and watch his people squirm. Sick.
"TWEAK!" My eyes shoot open, and I jump back. I slip over something wet, and feel myself fall onto the ground. My head cracks against the wood flooring. Craig is quick to cover my mouth before I scream from shock. This is way too much pressure. I'm not breaking into someone's house to kill them. I'm not breaking into someone's house to kill them. This is just a dream.
"Shut up Tweek, you'll wake them!" Craig snaps. I realize that I'm repeating it aloud. I squeeze my mouth shut, mind screaming how I'm going to die. It tells me exactly what the painful way is going to be. Fillmore calls me paranoid.
My eyes squeeze shut on impulse, and I pray to whatever God is out there to let me get back to base today. This is my 52nd mission.
Clyde is sick today. The flu's been going around the base. Wendy, Kyle, Red, Kevin, Flora, Clyde, and Stan all got it. Craig led me on a mission to make sure that I don't catch it. I've always been one to worry about diseases.
What if the flu turns into HIV? And that HIV turns into AIDS? I'll have AIDS. And AIDS is bad. We don't have about $150,000 dollars to inject into our blood. We'll die. And oh god the gnomes will get me, and it's too much pressure, and I'll have to kill myself to avoid their sick underwear!
Craig is standing over the victim, knife in hand. I close my eyes. I know what's going to happen next. Craig will slip on the water that's dripping from the roof, and the knife will fly backwards. It'll hit me in the face, and it'll go through my skull and into my brain. I'll get brain damage, and it'll be a really slow death.
"Craig -ngh- be careful." I whisper. My eye twitches open and then shut again. I'm scared that I'll fall into spasms like I did on the last mission.
And then the screams start. It must be Craig's. He probably stabbed himself accidently. I wait for the victim to wake up, and see Craig bleeding on the floor, but it never happens. And all too soon the screaming comes to an end. "Alright. It's done." Craig says. I sigh with relief, and open my eyes.
I tremble as I speak. "Maybe we should -ach!- let the gnomes get him! We shouldn't have to move the body!" My eye twitches shut as the words tumble out of my mouth. My words are high-pitched, shaken into whispers.
"Shut up Tweek." I twitch. Normally Clyde would agree with me. This is too much pressure man.
"I don't see why you wanted that, but I did it." Craig says. He's so laid back. I wish I was like him. I need coffee man! This is way too much pressure.
"Good job," She starts.
"Chullo."
"Chullo and,"
"Gah! Twitch."
"Chullo and Twitch. Congratulations. How much did I say?"
"Three." She handed Craig the promised money. Three thousand dollars. That'd keep us safe from the gnomes for three days, with the amount of kids that we have.
"Why'd you –ngh- want to kill him?"
"You're a mercenary, not a physiatrist. And by the look of you, you need one." I squeeze my eye shut again.
"I have one –ach!- mam. My parents say that I have A.D.D.. By the way, is this house guarded?"
"No?"
"Oh god! The gnomes dude! They'll find me!"
"Gnomes?"
"Don't mind him he's insane." Craig says, coming to my defense. This is way too much pressure. Why couldn't Clyde come? Why'd he have to get the AIDS flu? Oh Jesus.
"Oh."
Craig is sleeping quietly, and I wonder how he does it. Sleeping is something that I've never been able to do. My dad used to say that when I dozed off it was as if a dozen birds began to fly at once, wings overlapping. I never figured out what he meant. His stories always made no sense. We kind of hope that he's Cartman's adviser, so that the fat boy can be set back.
I squeeze my eyes shut praying (I think I'm Roman Catholic, but I'm not sure. It's too much pressure to settle on one religion. I'm all of them. Which is hard, because their beliefs overlap. Oh Jesus.) that I can fall asleep and the gnomes won't get me. Amen.
Or uh R'amen if you believe in the Flying Spaghetti monster. (Which I do. I believe in everything. If I don't I'll burn!)
Kenny says that the Mormon religion is the real one. I told him that he's lying. They're all lying. They want to see me burn. They want to see Satan kill me, bring me back, and kill me, because they're lying.
I didn't bring extra pairs of underwear with me. Craig did. He packed a suitcase. I told him that the gnomes will come, but he didn't listen. Now the gnomes will come. My grip tightens on my baseball bat. It's what I use on missions. Craig uses knives, guns, swords, and sometimes even one of Christophe's shovels. We really only have a limited amount of weapons at the base. It's enough to keep the gnomes away though.
"Agh!" I scream, and Craig shoots up. He turns his gaze on me, not even seeming at all tired. He's magic.
"What?"
"They're gonna get me!"
"Fuck off Twitch." He lays back down and closes his eyes. I like my codename. It's better than my real name. Tweek. That's like a cocaine addict. People say I'm addicted to cocaine. Not when I'm on a mission. On a mission they say that I'm royally fucked. I like that difference.
Why do the gnomes target me? I have to buy underwear during every mission. It gets really troublesome, let me tell you. Fillmore says that the gnomes aren't real, but Kyle filled him in on our mission when we were eight. I hate that guy. Hanging around with him is too much pressure.
"What time is it?"
"Gah! Eight o' clock."
"AM or PM?"
"A… M."
"You have the shovel?"
"Ach! I thought you did! Oh Jesus, now we won't escape. And Cartman will find us, and he'll kill us for revenge!"
"Shut up Twitch. I brought an extra."
"Oh. Cool." I twitch again. He sighs. The shovel is the only way to get around. We're in the middle of nowhere. Staying underground is the safer option. And the gnomes can't get me when I'm down there.
He's fully awake in the second, shoving his shovel into the grass. "Wait," I say.
"What?"
"What if Manbearpigs down there? He'll eat me!"
"Fuck off." He picks up the shovel, bringing a wad of dirt with it. He fling it backwards, and the ground flies onto me. I started to scream, and run around in circles. I talk about how the dirt probably has worms in it, that'll eat me from the inside. He says something in Spanish that I don't think is an invitation to talk about my problems. When did he learn Spanish? Oh god he's not Craig! He's an alien!
"Seems like this thing has some Mole magic trapped in it." I stop running, and take a look. He's already got a hole ten feet deep. He climbs in, and motions for me to follow him.
"Oh Jesus man! This is bad! What if the Mole is dead, and he lives in his shovel? Oh god, we'll lose one of the leaders, and then we'll die." My words topple over each other, trying to escape.
"Twitch re-fucking-lax. You need coke or something to calm you down?" Craig snaps, angrily.
"I think that would be –ngh- counterproductive –ach!- to your goals!"
"I don't care."
"Gah!" I open my eyes just in time to see the metal of the shovel, flying straight towards my head. I don't remember the impact.
"Ngh." I mutter, as my eyes flutter (or shoot) open. I'm on my feet in a second, and I reach for my baseball bat to find it missing. "Ahh!" The gnomes got it man. They're not the underwear gnomes anymore. They're the underwear and baseball bat gnomes. Jesus, they'll eat us!
"Shut up Twitch. We're nearing the base."
"Oh Jesus."
"You've been out for a day."
"Oh god! Damien caught up to us, and knocked me out with a shovel. I didn't know that he used shovels. He's evolving. If he evolves we die, and Cartman rises, and," A hand over my mouth muffles my next words. My eyes widen over it.
"Shut up, or I'll knock you out again, dumbass. Why did Gregory have to add you to team."
"He says paranoid is –gah!- good. I can save your lives from the gnomes."
"There are no fucking gnomes." He says in monotone.
"Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and… saw them." I make sure that I don't mention his name. That bastard. He killed my mom. Bastard! Oh Jesus. She's probably in Hell, because she didn't believe in all religions. Oh god.
"I'll be sure to ask them when we get back." Sarcasm drips from his voice like venom. I almost scream again.
"But the profit! Step 1: Collect underwear. Step 2:… Step 3: Profit. See! It all makes sense! Don't you get it Cr…Chullo?"
"No. I don't. Now get a fucking backbone."
"If I do, someone will break it man!"
"Jesus motherfucking Christ. Just shut up and let me dig." So we walk in silence, the only sound being my random screams. I've been trying to curb those, but it's really hard hard.
Did I write that twice? Oh Jesus. This pencil doesn't have an eraser. Now my mistake will sit there, burning through my mind like a flame for the rest of eternity. Crap, the metaphors man!
The shovel comes up on open air, and Craig finally sighs. "We're here. You know the code?"
"Yeah 3…" His hand smacks over my mouth again.
"Shut up, and punch it in." I hate Craig. He's too cruel. I want to run. But if I run he'll catch me. I twitch again.
3, 6, 3, 8, 4, 6, 3. Christophe, Gregory, and I are the only ones that know the meaning. They told me not to tell anyone. It'll make them paranoid. End Time man. I can see why. Why don't they worry that I'll be paranoid? It's a conspiracy man!
"There's no conspiracy." I shudder. He can read my mind.
"No you fucking idiot. I can't read your mind. You're talking." Oh.
"Uh sorry –gah!- Chullo." My hand moves against the keys in rapid motion. I make sure that Craig can't see the numbers. Gregory says not to let anyone see it. It's too much pressure for me!
The door opens immediately, and Craig walks in first. I run inside, twitching uncontrollably. "Coffee?" Is the first thing that finds its way out of my mouth. Craig closes the door behind us.
"Get it yourself." I'm Tweek now. I'm not strong. The gnomes will get me! I'm not Twitch, the strong mercenary. I'm just the paranoid, insane Tweek. I scream, but everyone's used to that by now.
"Quiet –shitballs!- Tweek. The others are sleeping. Cocksucker!"
"Sorry –ngh- man."
"Gregory caught the bug, so we're in literal limbo. No planning –whorefucker!- whatsoever, and Chris' and Kenny are doing missions nonstop. Even Kenny rarely comes back. He caught the flu, but he beat it –Aw shit!- really fast."
"Oh God no. CARTMAN POISONED,"
"SHHH!" He snapped. "They're sleeping. Motherfucker!"
"Do you both need those gags again?" Craig asks.
"I'm fine. I just need to not –Assramming donkey fucker!- talk so much." Craig raised an eyebrow at me.
"Uh, maybe I should, but it could make me start to choke, and if I choke I die, and," I begin.
"Gag it is."
Damien
My wishes go unheard. I warned (as he calls himself) Lord Cartman that Alaska would fail, and that his mission would fail, but he didn't listen. I warned him that this would happen. Now the United Federation is short a state. And Cartman is planning on killing everyone in Colorado. Perfect. He has no idea how to run an empire.
I believe that the loss two major states is only acceptable from the gain of England. We made sure to kill anyone that was related to anyone in La Resistance. The only casualties were Gregory's parents; George Abraham Adams, Mary Louise Adams. And of course his little sister, Karen Adams. I never did learn her middle name. I hate losing information. Whatever, I can ask my father if need be.
Apparently Gregory has become overcome with grief, to the point that he missed some of The Mole's missions. Of course, it's only speculation at this point. He could be planning an attack that could be of great importance to us, while the Immortal and the Mole go on their missions.
Even I don't know why the call him that. He's not an immortal, at least that's what my dad says. And my dad's words are of extreme importance. He is the Devil, stupid as he is. I would do a much better job at torturing the souls of sin. That is why the guards never do anything wrong when in my presence.
"Bring the new one." I order the guard, standing by the door. "And clean this thing up." I mark his name and status in the files.
Prisoner 349: Randy Marsh.
Relatives: Sharon Marsh (Prisoner. Deceased), Shelley Marsh (Traitor), Marvin Marsh (Deceased), and Stanley Marsh (Traitor).
Reason for capture: South Park citizen.
There is so much more in his files, but I skip to his status.
Status: Deceased.
I spit on the corpse, as the guard drags it out of the room. my eyes flare, as I watch the blood boil on the ground, burning until it is nothing but a gas in the air. Satanic powers can be of great use. According to my father, the deal has been set.
To be brutally honest, the world doesn't need the Anti-Christ to bring upon the apocalypse. I'm just helping it move a little faster.
The blaze in my eyes grows even brighter, as his file appears before me.
Name: Kenny McCormick.
Relatives: Carol McCormick (Deceased), Stuart McCormick (Soldier), Karen McCormick (Soldier), and Kevin McCormick (Traitor. Deceased).
Reason for Capture: Betraying his government. (United Federation Under Cartman)
Status: Prisoner.
"Well hello Mr. Thorn. It's been a while since I last saw you." He laughs. "Now, how about we get this over with?" He smiles. I glare at him. He should be afraid of me, not laugh at me. I'm the fucking Anti-Christ.
"What are your plans?"
"Geez you don't beat around the bush do ya?" He laughs again. "Tell you what kill me, because I won't answer anything."
"I may do just that McCormick.
"Good to hear!" I scowl, and glare at his happy form. His body language insists that he doesn't care what happens to him. He's a freak.
"Why does La Resistance feel the need to betray their government?" I know the answer, I'm just testing him.
"Duh, because you're dicks. We don't like being led by a pussy like Cartman, and a psychopath like you, Mr. Thorn. Oh and Christophe says hi." My fists clench at my sides. I fight to keep my temper in check.
"Why do they call you Immortal?"
"I have no fear." Damn, he's not lying.
"Why doesn't Gregory fight with you?"
"He's going on his own missions alone."
"Bullshit."
"Aw, you know me so well. He's planning." That's information that we didn't know. Maybe he's not so grief stricken after all.
"What is he planning?"
"No idea. His wording sucks. Stupid grade average. He's got a 4.0 grade average at Yardale you know. He never stops bragging about that. He gets annoying, really. Sometimes I want to shoot him in the face to shut him up." He's joking.
"Is there reluctance within your team?"
"Yeah. Christophe's reluctant to dig underwater. He did say though that he's planning which organ he's going to take out of you with his shovel. I told him to do the lungs, but he seems set on the brain. Makes no sense." What the fuck is wrong with this fucking kid? How is he not scared of the Anti-Christ. I'm used to people who bow down towards me, and kiss my shoes. Not mock me.
"Where is your base?"
"I am not going to reveal that information." This time I laugh.
"Keep thinking that poor boy."
"You can't do anything to me that hasn't already been done before. I've known pain like you couldn't imagine you Satanic asshole. Have you ever felt the pain that you deliver onto those damned souls?"
"Of course not. That's a retarded thought."
"I'd think that you, of all people, would remember me. Kenny McCormick. Mysterion. The Immortal. The kid that was cursed by Cthulhu. Ring any bells?" He's insane. No wonder he's not afraid.
"That brings me to yet another topic," I'll go back to the other one soon enough. "Why do people have green question marks on their walls? Are you doing it, or your followers?" I demand. He gives me a 'Are-you-kidding-me' look.
"I have no idea. It could be our followers, or just people parodying us. I've never even heard of that. Christophe will be happy." He adds the last sentence in sarcastically. "Christo' hates Mysterion." I see.
"You've told me everything that we need to know McCormick."
"Good to hear. Now I get to ask you stuff," What? "'Tophe's been wondering. How's your sex, because he's always wondered what gay sex is like."
"My sex?"
"You and Cartman." This time I lose control. The fire in my eyes flare before I can stop them, and the poor boy disappears. Wait… did I?
I come back to Cartman with no memory of the past hour. My mind works nonstop to figure out the missing blanks between tracking down Immortal and Mole, and the rest of my day. He doesn't seem happy.
"What have you been doing all day?"
"Don't talk to me like that Fatass."
"What's up your ass?"
"No fucking idea, dumbass." I really am not in character, but I don't care. Dad must be pissed. He'd be able to fuck Cartman, without even thinking what he was doing. He's really a suckish father, raising me like he was. Which means that God is an even worse father, for creating that.
"Damien fucking Thorn, will you shut the fuck up?" Yes my name is an insult like Jesus Christ is. Fuck off. "I was busy with paperwork okay. And I killed Randy Marsh." The memories come back as I say that.
I was stalking them, making sure that my feet didn't even touch the ground. The fire in my eyes was dulled to mere smoke, as to not create any light. I warned God that if I fuck up I'd kill him (Being the son of Satan I have the ability to do such things). Kenny stiffened, and looked right at me.
He starts to bolt, and grabs Christophe by the rope, and drags him behind him. Kenny warns the Frenchman that I'm there, and the latter stabs his shovel into the ground. I scream in frustration, and speed forward. By the time I catch up their six feet under, and the dirt is packed.
I form a shovel in my hands, and push it deep into the Earth trying to catch up. By the time I'm ten feet under I figure out that the tunnel is completely gone.
"Aw we needed him! We could have held him ransom!" He whines at the last word, and I crinkle my nose in disgust. The next second I stop the expression, knowing what he could take that as. And I can't lose this. This is my first major task, and I can't fuck it up… Even if it involves pretending to care about a fat ass son of a whore.
I hate my job so much.
"He's a corpse now."
"Can you…"
"Bring him back? I could. It's extremely hard though. I'd have to leave this body up on Earth, and it could take months. I have to constantly torture him, to convince him that life here is better than death. And it isn't. Then I'll have to wait until the new moon to bring him back."
"Do it in a week."
"Are you kidding me?"
"I don't kid around Thorn. I need Randy Marsh here."
"Why?"
"He knows where Stan is."
"Son! It's been so long!"
"Quiet father, I'm looking for a specific soul." I snap, urging the fires behind us to glow red, instead of their usual orange. I've always been one for special effects. Mainly because I cause them.
"Which one?"
"Randy Kevin Marsh."
"That name sucks."
"I agree fully." I feel like I'm talking to a child, when I speak with my father (Who, I may brag, is the Devil).
"I can read minds."
"I don't give two shits."
"Good to hear." Lucifer laughs, resting an arm on my shoulder. For him I don't squirm away. It'd be futile. He does have Satanic powers, that are even stronger than mine. He could permanently kill me with one thought. I wish that I could have that power. Then Cartman would beg for me to take control of his empire. Christophe, and Gregory would bow before me, as I burn their faces to a crisp. And… "You're really sadistic, son."
"I am your child."
"Even I'm not that bad." Because you're a pussy. "Hey! Shut up. Randy Marsh didn't go to Hell."
"What?"
"He and his entire family converted to Mormonism, a few years back. For some reason, God lets anyone who converted and changed back into Heaven as well. It's part of his idea of strengthening his army. Anyone in the Marsh family that dies will be going to the pearly gates." Father explains. Dammit. I lost that one. God never lets me into the cloud city. He fears that I shall blow it up without a care in the world. Or at least send all of the inhabitants to the flames. God is correct. "Where did I go wrong in raising you?"
"You raised me in Hell?"
"Oh yeah." He says, as if that's new information.
"Damien Thorn! Do you know what time it is?"
"No." I'm not the only person who uses my name as a curse. I really have problems don't I?"
"Yes, and I have a date with my boyfriend!"
"Is he another Iraqi dictator?"
"Why yes, he is. Why do you ask?" I groan, and glare at him. I tell him to send me home. "Can't you spend a day with your old man?"
"I have a Fatass to watch over, and make sure that he doesn't kill himself." I growl, through gritted teeth. My father can get to me, for seemingly no reason sometimes. "Can I go now?"
"If you must son." He waves his hand in the air like a fucking pixie, and I close my eyes.
When I reopen them, the fucker himself stares down at me. funny how he tortures me more than the Devil ever could. "Where's Marsh?"
"He's in Heaven."
"Fuck! You said that only Mormons, and not me go to Heaven!" Cartman snaps. You never can predict his mood. He could be a whiny bitch, or he could be extremely angry. Either way I hate seeing him like this, because it's really annoying.
"He and his family converted a few years back. That day, they earned themselves a permanent seat in Heaven."
"Stan didn't really accept his religion. Does he go to Heaven?"
"Doesn't matter. When your little your parents decide your religion. Since his father decided Mormon, even though they converted back to Christianity, he still has a seat in Heaven."
"MEH!" He whines kicking one of the guards in the testicles. The guard (Marcus) collapses on the floor, with a look of horror on his face. The others snicker at the fallen man, and batter him with their own kicks and punches. Such a humane staff. Then again, I shouldn't be talking.
"There's nothing I can do."
"Yes there is. Go to Heaven and bring him back." I wince at his high pitched voice. It'll be fun when he's dead, screaming and begging for me to stop. He's the only one that we plan to actually torture, and keep out of Luau Sundays. My fucking father is terrible at being the driving force against Heaven.
"I was banned from Heaven and Purgatory for trying to convince my father to destroy them. I cannot get inside them, unless I am contacted and restrained by one of God's associates." Yes I'm repeating exactly what the messenger Angel (Who I kidnapped, and held for ransom) who warned me about this said. Fuck you.
"Then contact them!" He whines.
"I can't, because they fear that I can spread a word driven virus."
"That's real?"
"Yes, but only my father has such power to use to terrorize the world, and he feels that the world isn't ripe for the apocalypse yet." He's extremely pathetic.
"Then what do we do?"
"We wait. I don't believe that La Resistance is a threat anymore, so it doesn't matter how long it takes."
"Why not?"
"They haven't threatened us directly for too long. Sure they decided that they'll try to recruit, but none of the recruits want to go directly against us, and we can just bomb anyone that does. You were there at Alaska, and I heard that mission went perfectly."
"We didn't catch The Mole, Gregory, and Kinny."
"Yes but they tried to. Better to try and fail than not to try at all." I don't know what I'm saying, but it got him to shut up. I hate him, and this plan, so much that it hurts to talk about it. Lucky for you, I'm writing this story of my life so that you can learn of the creator of the new world. By now, it should be impossible for you to leave correct?
"Yeah." He waved me away, indicating that he hadn't listened in the first place. Asshole. I twitch in anger, glaring at him, before turning to make my leave. "What's wrong Dam?" I want to tell him not to call me that, but instead I make up some bullshit excuse.
"I'm pissed at God," Yes I sound exactly like The Mole. "For halting my way to Randy Marsh."
"It's okay." His words sound as forced as I do. I don't think that he's ever actually attempted to comfort anyone.
"Snookum's, I have your chocolate donut sprinkle surprise." I have to hold in my laughter. That woman will never change. Even after fucking my father (Which is why Cartman is so manipulative and evil. He may not have been born by my father, but Liane's womb did have some dead Satanic sperm left in there. Somehow it made him like this.) she is still kindhearted, and a whore.
"Mahm, don't call me that. I told you to call me Supreme Ruler of All Things Damned." Cartman whines. Fucking pussy!
"I'm sorry Hun. I didn't mean to make you so angry. Do you want the chocolate donut sprinkle surprise, or should I give it to your prisoners, Mr. Supreme Ruler of All Things Damned?" I don't know how she was upbeat and kind saying that. That entire family is completely insane. And I'm Satan's kid.
"Should I make my leave?" I ask the fat boy. He nods, and points to the door unnecessarily.
"Try not to kill prisoners from now on."
"Fine." I say, through gritted teeth.
"And no bombing entire wings of my base, or empire, got it?"
"Fine."
"And no torturing the guards, unless you get my say so."
"Fine."
"Alright, good luck. You taking that DeLorne case, right?"
"If you wish." I growl, glaring at him. He looks like he wants to ask me what's wrong, but he also looks like he wants to tell me to fuck off. He chooses the latter.
"Simple. Tell us everything about your son, and we'll let you get back to your duties Soldier McCormick."
"Well, there's one fuck of a lot to say." Beautiful redneck speak (Yes I'm joking. What the Anti-Christ can't joke?). "My son were born on March 22, 2002. He ain't the sharpest tool in the shed either. When me and his mom fucked each other up, he didn't even watch. He preferred to watch them damn pornos. He used to cut out all the boobs and vajs from my fucking playboys. We tried to make him a still-born by makin Carol drink till she throw up, and then drink some fucking more! We didn't real want him. We went to some cult meetin' cause they promised us free beer, and they did some ritual to me wife, she live? And she had exploding diarrhea for a week. Ever since then you got that kid dyin' and comin' back, and no fuckin' person but us seems to ''member."
"How does he come back?"
"'Is mom used to give birth to 'im. If she dead, I don't know if or 'ow 'e comes back Mr. Thron."
"Thorn."
"Thron, Thorn what's the diff."
"There is a major difference, Soldier McCormick. You may leave now. Go back to your duties. I have no further use for you."
"Well thanks you." I sigh, and smack my hand against my head. I hate this dimension so freaking much.
"Tell the guards to send in Sheila Brofloski." He nods, and walks out of the room. three minutes later a guard stands in the doorway. He gives me a worried look.
"Lord Cartman murdered her for 'Being a Jew bitch.' I'm sorry sir." I sigh, and scowl at him. He winces. "I'll bring in anyone else that you wish sir. I apologize for the death." He says, in response to my glare.
"Bring in Soldier Karen McCormick, and bring Soldier Stuart McCormick back here." I order. He nods, and rushes out.
"Karen, Karen, Karen. I thought you were stronger than this." Tears flow down her face, like rivers. Her eyes are red, and her throat is obviously raw from the constant screaming. Her fists are bleeding from the amount of times that she's punched the walls in anguish. I jot down the status quickly.
Stats: Deceased.
And close the file on Stuart's name forever. A guard scoops it up, and gives me her file. "Y-you killed him!" She cries. I nod. It's fairly obvious, considering the fact that I did it in front of her.
"Because he didn't give me enough information, and he was disrespectful. Are you disrespectful Karen?" I say in a smooth, calm voice. An adult speaking to a child. A king to a peasant. She winces under my gaze, and starts sobbing even louder. She shakes her head. "Good, now tell me everything about your brother."
"H-he used to get me food if Mommy and Daddy weren't around, or too drunk. He'd protect me when they fought. And when Mysterion wasn't around, he'd hold me tight while I cried, and he'd never let go. He seemed to disappear at random times, or just run away. One time, the house burned down and I watched him leave me behind, and run away. He came back a day later, and my Mommy was crying, and my Daddy was holding her and ignoring him. Sometimes I'd see a baby in the house in Kenny's parka, always in his bed. It scared me, but a morning later he was back to normal. He doesn't have any scars, or scratches ever. He donated his eyes to Lord Cartman, but got a transfer."
"Tell me about the times that he disappeared. Were they often, and if so were they at any specific times?"
"He'd run away every time it was dangerous. He told me that whenever he ran, he was dead and in Heaven or Hell or Purgatory or Limbo. I never believed him, but he seemed sure. He once yelled at Mommy and Daddy, saying that they knew why he kept dying, but they didn't care enough to tell him. A year later he told me that he was just kidding, but I didn't believe him. Why would Kenny go to Hell, Mr. Thorn?"
"He was a bad man. He hurt people."
"He did?" She turns her teary eyed gaze up at me, momentarily forgetting about the corpse. I've raised her right.
"Yes, he hurt people really bad. They used to beg him to stop, but he never listened. And he wasn't lying about the dying. When the final battle between Heaven and Hell happened, Kenny was in Hell, fighting really hard to make Hell win. Luckily Heaven stopped him, but he would have hurt many people. He's a bad man."
"He would have told me!"
"He lied to you Karen. Why else would he tell you that he was just joking about his evil doings? He sold his soul to Satan in exchange for eternal life, and he damned his families souls too."
"Mommy and Daddy are in Hell?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, but there is a way to retrieve their souls."
"How?" She asks. I smile, and explain everything that she has to do for me, to 'retrieve her soul' from Satan. When she leaves I laugh.
It's about time that something goes right for me.
I bet that I surprised a few people with that new P.O.V. Tell me how you liked him. He's fun to try and understand, but he's hard to write.
About that specific topic, I'm going to be doing updates every 2 weeks starting September 5th. After school starts, I won't have enough time to write and if I have to keep up with that week long process chapters will be significantly shorter.
I've finally done it! Four weeks after the day that I began "If You're Reading This" (Formerly titled Viva La Resistance. Personally I think it's better this way.) I came up with the ending! Now it won't completely suck when you read the last chapter!
Thanks to all of you that reviewed, it really puts a smile on my face to see the newest reviews. You guys are the only reason that I'm restless and terrified on a Tuesday night, with another 1000 words to write!
Don't forget to R&R. They make me more motivated.