Chapter 6

/"I'll cry until the candles burn down this place, I'll cry until my pity party's in flames,"/

What the hell is that noise? The sound buzzed and buzzed and seemed to be getting louder, and much much more annoying. Jesus shut up! The Nazi commander tried as hard as he could to hold onto his last remnants of sleep, but the buzzing drew him out of the sandman's grasp. Oh. It's the alarm clock. "Shit," Cartman grumbled rolling over to hit the off switch on the small clock that sat on his bedside table. Once off he allowed his arm to fall off the side of the bed and just laid there, on his stomach, head pounding. "What's good about being in charge of a concentration camp when I have to get up at the ass crack of dawn?" he groaned in self pity. He laid there for a few more minutes to allow his body and mind to adjust to his awakening.

With a loud, annoyed grumble, the Commandant finally sat up in bed, swinging his legs to hang off. "I don't smell coffee, that asshole have better made some," Cartman cursed while he pinched the bridge of his nose in hopes that would ease the throbbing in his head; of course that didn't happen. He didn't need to look at the calendar on the wall of his office that was down the hall, he knew what today was, even his body knew the date and acted accordingly.

September 16th

God damn. Cartman would give anything to just go back to bed, sleep through this entire day and just continue on tomorrow. Unfortunately he knew he couldn't for he had to perform his duties as a high ranking officer. "And I told Craig being in charge comes with so many perks," he moaned at his own irony not being able to take a day for himself. "Guess responsibilities come with more responsibilities," he rubbed both hands over his face, lightly smacked his cheeks and stood to get ready for the day. He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

Cartman was much more awake after a good hot shower. He dressed in his uniform, even put on his boots. Had the floor of his villa been covered in carpet he would have cared about getting it dirty, but with it being hardwood he couldn't find himself to care all that much. His villa. Now that was a huge perk that came with being a Commandant of his own concentration camp. The villa sat upon a hilltop that overlooked the camp, that way anyone in charge could watch their camp from the cozy interior. The Commandant's villa was everything the camp wasn't. Every room was decorated with the finest furniture, the showers always had hot water, there was a kitchen with copious amounts of food denied to the prisoners. The villa only housed three people, the Commandant, his first officer and it's caretaker who also doubled as a personal chef to the high ranking officers.

"Clyde, you better have my coffee, asshole," Cartman sneered when he sat down at the dining room table.

"Of course sir, fresh from the pot, cream and no sugar," just how he liked it. A young man with shaggy brown hair and green eyes set his commanders steaming coffee in front of him. "Are you ok? You look like hell," Clyde regretted the words as soon as they came out when he was met with Cartman's glare. "Sorry sir, I forget we're no longer in school," there was so much Cartman could say to the boy on this matter but he just wasn't in the mood so instead he waved him off.

"Just hurry up with my breakfast goddamn it," after Clyde left the room, Cartman sighed and again pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn this headache needs to go away. He began to nurse his coffee while he was waiting on his breakfast. Like Craig, Cartman knew Clyde since they were kids but he never considered him to be one of his friends, hell he didn't actually consider Craig a friend either. In Cartman's mind they were both just tools, tools to be used and replaced when he no longer had a use for them. They were at war, there was no room for friendship; but he would never let them know this for he needed to keep them on their leash, so to speak. While Craig was loyal to Cartman as his first officer, Clyde was loyal to him around the villa and worked hard to maintain it. Clyde wasn't soldier material, he was too much of a whiny baby; or a Cartman frequently called him a "pussy".

"Damnit Clyde you're taking too long this morning. Stop dreaming about your stupid girlfriend and cook meh food!" Cartman definitely heard him bang something in the kitchen in retort yet he said nothing; this made Cartman smirk. Had they still been in school Clyde would have back talked him and called him names, but not since he became Commandant, not since he gained power. And boy, did Cartman love power.

Getting frustrated from sitting at the table, Cartman made his way over to the window in the sitting room to look out at the grounds. It was about time for the prisoners to have breakfast of their own; any minute now they should be leaving the barracks for the mess hall. Not a minute had passed when they all began to file out. Cartman watched them all with disdain as they scurried to the mess hall like the rats they were. So many. So many rats in his camp, rats that needed to be exterminated. It was true that he would love nothing more than to have all the Jews perish, but death was too simple, too easy. He wanted them to suffer more than anything. God how he hated them all.

But that's not true, is it?

Cartman's amber eyes found the only spec of color in this dismissal place, the deepest shade of red he had ever seen. The red hair and green eyed jew, Kyle Broflovski. He hated this Jew above all the others.

But you don't really hate him, do you?

Cartman gripped the porcelain mug tighter in his hand. Damnit. No, he didn't hate the Jew, he didn't hate him at all, and that's what really made the Commandant infuriated.

He fascinates you, doesn't he?

Yes. There was something about Kyle that impressed the Commandant, that intrigued him. Kyle was definitely defiant, had been since the day he was captured, but even after these few months in his camp the Jew is still ruthlessly defiant. No matter how hard or how fast Cartman made him work, he still finished each and every task with a flame burning inside him. A flame that Cartman needed to put out.

But you don't really want to do that, do you Eric? Where would the fun in that be if he was so obedient?

There was something about their exchanged "challenges" that was fun to Cartman. As much as he would love for the boy to bend to his will, it wouldn't be fun to just have another empty shell doing everything he ordered.

That's why he is your Jew, isn't he Eric?

Cartman found himself blushing and cursing himself. Damnit! Why had he told himself that yesterday? They are all in his camp! They are all his Jews!

But he is special, isn't he?

He couldn't deny it, this particular Jew was special. Was it just because he liked the fire that erupted between them when their eyes met? Was it because he could read the colorful names Kyle was calling Cartman in his head when he gave him orders? Was it because Kyle continued to prove that he could do anything Cartman made him?

He's still not afraid of you.

Cartman's hand began to shake as a wave of revelation washed over him. Kyle wasn't scared of him. That's what it was. Kyle still isn't afraid of him, even after these months under his reign at the camp. How was that possible? Everyone feared him, everyone in his school, in the regime, all the prisoners he captured, hell, he knew even Craig and Clyde feared him. Cartman always used fear to get his way, but Kyle wasn't scared, he still wasn't giving up his stupid idea of hope, was he? Well he'd fix that soon, they all end up afraid of him, he will too.

But you don't want that do you? You don't want your Jew to fear you. Right Eric? It actually means something to you that he isn't afraid.

Cartman growled in the back of his throat as he shook his head. "Shut up, shut up, shut up," he turned away from the window, his hand gripping his hair to try and silence his thoughts. While trying to get himself under control another spec of color caught his eye, this time purple. On the fireplace mantle was a black porcelain vase that housed several purple budding iris flowers.

Cartman froze in a panic. His pupils shrank, his heart rate sped up so fast he could hear his pulse in his ears, his stomach dropped and luckily he had no food in his system to lose from the wave of nausea that hit him. "Clyde! Who the fuck sent these flowers?!" That very same moment Clyde was setting a plate down with food on the dining room table, he turned his head to look at the flowers then to Cartman.

"Oh, the Fuhrer sent those, from one of his gardens. Congratulations for being in charge of the camp, late congratulations if you ask me," Clyde mentally hit himself for he basically insulted their Fuhrer and expected Cartman to lash out, but that didn't happen. Instead he continued to stare at the flowers with wild eyes. "Oh shit the bacon!" Clyde ran back into the kitchen.

Congratulations my ass. The Fuhrer knew exactly what today was, he really did do his background checks on all his soldiers. Did he think this was funny? Or was he really being sincere? It didn't matter his reasoning and it didn't matter that these flowers were a gift from the Fuhrer himself, Cartman was enraged and felt repulsed by the sight of the flowers.

For the second time today, Cartman saw red, but not the red of his Jew that stirred something new and different inside him. This red awoke the real monster everyone made him out to be. The Commandant grabbed the vase, let out an almost animalistic scream, and threw the porcelain vase against the opposite wall, shattering on impact.

Clyde came running out of the kitchen in a panic. "Cartman what happened? Did you-?" but he was cut off when he saw the look of fury in Cartman's eyes, the look of a monster, of a beast that was out for blood; Clyde was terrified.

"Burn those flowers before I get back!" and with that Cartman stormed out and Clyde feared for anyone who would get in his way, but that fear was quickly replaced with irritation. He didn't even eat!

"Asshole,"

/

Once again the boys were set to breaking and collecting rocks around the camp; Kyle's brother and father were out digging in the trenches. Kyle hated being separated from his family, but he made sure Ike understood to watch over their dad; he wasn't looking his best these days. While he didn't feel great about spending the day apart from his family, he was however, thankful that Tweek was feeling much better today. Tweek had cried himself to sleep in Kyle's arms and didn't wake up once after that; Kyle knew he needed that rest knowing he barely ever slept. At breakfast that morning Tweek had asked Kyle if it bothered him, Tweek being gay. The Jew just smiled and grabbed his pinky. He assured Tweek that who he loved didn't matter one single bit to Kyle, he loved who he loved, simple as that. Regardless of his sexuality, they were still friends.

Kyle himself had never wondered about his own sexuality, but then again he had never been in a situation where he found the need to question himself. He only ever had one crush, a girl named Rebecca in the fourth grade. Nothing happened, it was just a silly crush, didn't all kids have crushes?

When Kyle started dancing it became his life, he didn't find the time or even the want to date. Then once the war started, his family and their survival became his first priority; a love life had been set on the furthest back burner imaginable. He would openly admit that he didn't understand love, but he did know that it hurt, he had seen it first hand with his parents and with Tweek; he didn't want something that caused such pain. Besides there was a war going on and who knew when it would end.

"Kyle are y-you ok? You're pretty q-quiet," Tweek whispered to the Jew after breaking a rock. While yes, they had to be as quiet as they could while they worked if soldiers were watching, they took opportunities when said soldiers weren't looking. They needed to keep up their morale as best they could.

"Hm? Oh yeah Tweek I'm fine, just-" but he was caught off guard by a gunshot, that was the first gunshot he had heard since the welcoming; it wasn't a sound he was accustomed to. Yes people died here, he had seen it. Prisoners would drop at roll call, during the heated days of summer from exhaustion and lack of water and proper meals; some even died of infections that set in from being beaten to a pulp by the soldiers. But death by gunshots didn't happen, the prisoners were too scared to risk being shot so they performed their job adequately and as fast as they could, never defying the soldiers; except Kyle who defied the Commandant every chance he got.

Another gunshot went off.

Kyle's blood ran cold. Ike! Papa! Without thinking Kyle took off in a sprint towards the gunshots.

"Kyle!" Tweek went to grab him to force him to stay, but he was too fast; leaving a workstation without permission was forbidden. Even knowing this, it didn't stop Tweek from running after his friend.

"Oy! Get back here!" the soldier watching over their station yelled and ran after them.

Kyle found himself entering a small crowd of prisoners that were gathered in the main yard. Kyle pressed through the crowd, silently screaming for his brother and father, praying that they were alive. Because his focus was on all the faces in the crowd, he found himself tripping over something. Kyle quickly realized that something was a body, a body with a bullet hole in the back of his skull that was gushing blood. He started to scream out when a hand clamped over his mouth, Tweek. "Don't scream, don't d-draw any attention to yourself," he whispered at Kyle's ear. "Slowly stand u-up and don't move," Tweek released his mouth when Kyle nodded. They both slowly stood up and remained in their spot in the crowd. Kyle felt blessed that body didn't belong to his father or brother, nevertheless he said a silent prayer for the man.

Without raising his head, Kyle looked around the crowd to see if he could find his brother and father. His heart pounding in his chest until finally he found them standing side by side towards the middle of the crowd. Thank god. With the assurance his family was alright, he now focused on what was happening. Why was this man dead? Kyle heard two gunshots, so he knew there was another dead body somewhere in the crowd. His eyes fell upon the Commandant, he was walking through the crowd in a fit of rage. Kyle had never seen him act this way, even when Commandant Cartman shot that man at the welcoming he looked calm and collected; like killing that man was all business. This man, this wasn't the same man who watched him these few months. His eyes were completely different. Usually those amber hues held a bit of amusement, he enjoyed watching Kyle exert himself to the point he would nearly pass out. Those eyes always held a challenge, daring Kyle to talk back to him, to defy him. Kyle had to admit there was so much fire in them, a fire that matched his own. But looking at him now, there was no way this was the same Nazi.

If anything, this was what came to mind when Kyle heard the word "Nazi". Cartman looked completely deranged, he embodied the definition of sadistic murderer in this moment. Kyle no longer recognized the amber and in fact found himself missing them. Cartman stormed through the crowd like a wild lion in search of prey, he was out for blood. Kyle noticed the blood splatter over his uniform and even on his face. It was like something snapped inside him, but Kyle couldn't begin to imagine what that was.

"I'll ask again. Which one of you greedy Jews snuck that loaf of bread into the barracks?!" Kyle noticed Craig was at the front of the crowd holding the loaf he mentioned. This was why he was shooting people? A loaf of bread?! "Still no one?!" After a few moments of silence, Cartman kicked behind a man's knees to where they buckled and he shot him in the back of the head. Kyle began to shake, not out of horror, but out of anger. How could he do this?!

"Look down Kyle," Tweek warned him in a whisper, but it came out as a plea. No! Kyle wasn't about to look down. This was wrong, didn't anyone see that? Someone had to do something!

"So three isn't the lucky number huh?" Cartman kicked another man to the ground and aimed his gun at the back of his head. "How about four?" as soon as Cartman cocked his gun, Kyle screamed.

"Stop! I did it! I did it! Just please stop!" Tweek gripped his arm, hard.

"The fuck are you doing?! You'll get yourself k-killed!" he whispered as loud as a whisper could be; Tweek knew Kyle was lying, he never took the bread. But Kyle didn't care, he didn't want anyone else to die; especially not by a crazed monster over a loaf of bread.

"Get out of my way!" and the crowd parted like the red sea, revealing Kyle to Cartman. As they did so many times before, their eyes met, but this time Kyle felt a pain in his chest and his own emerald hues showed pity for the Commandant. What made him into this monster? Cartman moved fast towards him, much faster than someone his size should be able to move. The second he was upon Kyle he backhanded him across the face. "Stealing is a crime in meh camp Jew!" but Kyle simply smirked when he wiped his head back around to face Cartman.

"I don't remember that rule at the welcoming sir," Cartman's face burned with fury and he backhanded Kyle again.

"It's one of the Ten Commandments! Or do you Jew rats just think those are beneath you? Like you think everyone is beneath you people?" This shocked Kyle because his statement was completely backwards.

"You're one to talk! You people think you're so high and mighty! That the world revolves around you but it doesn't!" He was digging his grave, but so be it. He wasn't about to go down without a fight.

"You slimey son of a-" he pulled his arm back to ready to hit Kyle again but just before his hand collided with Kyle's cheek, Kyle caught it.

"GOD DAMNIT STOP HITTING ME FATASS!" Everything stopped, everything and everyone was frozen in time; Kyle held his breath. Shit he fucked up. Cartman's crazed eyes bore into his near frightened ones and then something happened Kyle didn't expect. For a brief moment Cartman's amber returned to their warm, passionate glow and he smiled; but Kyle blinked and the monster was back.

"Seize him!" Cartman ordered and two soldiers stormed through the crowd and grabbed Kyle by the arms. "Not the jew, him," Cartman had pointed to Tweek.