South Park had to go to bed without electricity and the morning after found that there was still none. Many people had worked during the night to try and bring it back, but it seemed the problem was not as easy as it first seemed—a short circuit, the messiest they had ever witnessed, had practically melted the wires. The origin was in an electricity box out of town which, after a careful examination, was declared inoperative, more than that, it was a complete wreck which couldn't even be used as scrap metal. First hypotheses tried to explain this as a consequence of an electric storm, as absurd as it was, because that night the skies had been completely clear. The other option was a malfunction, but it was also very improbable that a device could leave a whole town without electricity. Whatever the origin was, it was incredibly powerful.
Hells Pass Hospital was desperate for help: they had a generator, but it could only provide them for a few hours. Without the proper equipment, the patients' condition was worsening, some had died. Practically no store could function and the South Parkers feared they wouldn't get their electricity any sooner.
Those implied in the summer fair accident did not take a break during this time. They were all called by Token to gather at U-Stor-It, one of the few spots in South Park which managed to function in spite of the blackout, to open what he called their 'practice room', but Wendy saw more of a 'safe space'.
He had rented the biggest unit available, thinking that they could use a space where they could use their powers without having to worry about attracting anybody's attention. There was plenty of space there for everybody and its walls had been conditioned in order to suffocate the sound.
"Wow, you di-didn't have to do this, m-man. It must have c-costed you a fortune." Jimmy whistled, looking at the tall ceilings.
"Not that much." Token replied. "If it helps us control our abilities, it will be worth it."
Unfortunately, not all of them had so much money to spend on storage units. Kenny had to leave soon to work.
"But the town's paralyzed, what are you going to do?" Kyle asked him.
"I have a bachelorette party tonight and I gotta practice my moves." Kenny explained.
"...Oh. Uhm...Have fun?"
"Thanks, man. Have a good time, guys. See you. Oh, sorry, Timmy."
Scott was following Kenny with his eyes when he almost bumped on Timmy. He wouldn't have noticed anything if it wasn't for it.
"Geez, Timmy, what happened to you? Are you alright?"
Timmy had his nose swollen and red. In fact, his hip and right elbow showed much more worrying bruises, but Scott didn't notice and Timmy didn't mention them. With a small smile, he shrugged.
["I had an accident during the outage—I didn't see the stairs and I fell."]
"That's too bad, you could have broken your head!"
["It's perfectly fine, don't worry. Thanks for your concern, though."], with that said, Timmy drove away.
"Uhm, Tweek, could you come here for a second?"
"For you, and here's one for Scott, with no sug-Oh! I'm coming, Wendy!" Tweek was sharing out the buns he had made himself that morning when Wendy called. He gave the box to Clyde and went to her encounter.
Wendy approached him to talk to him close, in a low voice and with a tiny smile.
"I know you told Stan about my relationship with Gregory."
Tweek paled. He opened his mouth, trying to explain himself, when Wendy interrupted him.
"Don't worry. In fact, I wanted to thank you."
She said that glancing at Stan with such malice that Stan couldn't contain himself and walked to them.
"What are you saying to him? It doesn't matter if he told me: everyone's seen you with Gregory."
"Is there a problem with that? When you ghosted me, I took for granted that I was free to do what I want." Wendy crossed her arms.
"Weren't you with Scott, in the first place?"
"For your information, people can change partners. And I never said I was dating Gregory. We are just talk-Oh, wait, why am I giving you explanations? You were not that considerate to me."
Stan took a step forward, almost angered. "I...!"
"Yes, Stan? Do you have anything to say about the way I live my life?"
"...You're having a great time doing this to me, aren't you?" Stan muttered.
"I really don't know what you're talking about."
"You know what I'm talking about. Well, alright. Have fun. Go out with Scott, Gregory, Francis, Bill Allen, PC Principal or Kanye West's second cousin. It's none of my business."
"Right! It's not!" Wendy snapped.
"Then stop rubbing it in my face!"
"You, you, always you!"
Snorting, Stan stomped away to the farthest corner, while Wendy, mumbling insults and sighing with annoyance, took the opposite route. Tweek stayed where he was, looking at both of them. Craig came to him and wrapped his arms around him.
"I fucked up..." Tweek bit his under lip.
"You fucked up. But I still love you." Craig kissed his jaw. He supposed that should have comforted him, but it didn't.
"Serves me right for trying to help a friend. I learned the lesson, alright: never do anything for anybody."
"Don't think about it, babe: think about our future."
"How far?"
"Not too far. You and I, alone, in the beach. What beaches do you prefer? Spain? France? Greece?"
"Travelling by plane stresses me...I'd rather stay in the US."
"Well, alright, we won't leave the country, then. Much cheaper. In that case, what about California or Florida?" Craig left a few kisses under Tweek's ear, which made him smile. His words were taking effect, it seemed.
"Anywhere sunny and away from the mountains...Only you and I..."
"Chilling."
"Yeah, chilling..."
Craig suffered then a sudden convulsion. Too chill! His arms were freezing!
He hurriedly stepped away from his fiancé and Tweek looked at his chest. He also felt it. His skin was covered with a fine layer of frost. He gasped, attracting everyone's attention.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! WHAT THE FUCK?!"
"Uh...Easy, easy, Tweek." Craig tried to comfort him.
"NO WAY! CALM DOWN?! SERIOUSLY?! I WAS SUPPOSED TO HEAL, SO WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS?! WHERE DID ALL THIS ICE COME FROM?! CRAIG! I CAN'T HANDLE ONE SINGLE POWER! THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR MY BRAIN!"
"I'll slap him, that's what one has to do in these cases!" Scott had eaten a lollipop and was now transformed, ready to test his might. He offered himself to calm Tweek down, taking a few steps towards him, but was stopped by Token.
"Don't."
"But-"
"Don't."
"C-Can't you calm him down a little bit with your mental powers, Tim-Tim?" Jimmy asked Timmy.
["I'm afraid not, I can only communicate telepathically."] his friend replied.
"Okay, sit here and breathe. Breathe, dammit!" Craig held Tweek.
"DON'T YOU SEE I'M FUCKING BREATHING, YOU ASSHOLE?!" Tweek yelled at him.
"If I didn't know him well, I'd say he's on his period." Cartman crossed his arms.
"What are you even doing here, Cartman? You don't have powers!" Wendy faced him.
"Hey, Craig doesn't have them either and here he is!"
"He surely has powers-"
"No, I don't have any powers and I don't care!"
"-He just needs time and...Just leave us alone!" Wendy had no time to waste on that plump jerk anyway, so she just sat on the floor in a corner, far away from him, closed her eyes and seemed to fall into a meditating state.
"I'm telling you, she is on her period." Cartman turned towards Kyle and Stan.
"Shut up, fatass." Kyle discreetly pointed at Stan.
But Stan didn't need anything else to increase his bad mood: he was already pretty sour. In order to give himself a break, he opened the toolbox he had grabbed from the garage of his house and examined some of the tools inside. After a moment of study, he finally grabbed the hammer and the drill.
"That was a sweet idea." Cartman mocked him. "You bring a drill and there's no electricity to make it work."
"Shut up, I want to try something."
It was weird how his powers worked, apparently, so he needed to work on them.
The hammer, for instance. He wielded it and didn't feel what he felt when he first grabbed that screwdriver in Crunchy's Micro Brew, although there was still something about it.
"Come on, do something."
And something did happen: the hammer, as if repelled by some powerful force, escaped from his hand towards Token's head. He was quick enough to avoid the hit, using his hands as a barrier.
Another unexpected phenomenon occured: those squared lights which could be seen everytime Token teletransported appeared again and seemed to block the hammer's blow, deviating it to the ceiling, making a big hole in it.
"Jesus!" Clyde exclaimed.
"Careful, Stan! You almost left me headless!" Token exclaimed.
"Sorry, Token!" Stan apologized, clasping his hands.
Alright, no more hammers. Ever. He wasn't Thor. Hammers bad. No more hammers ever, ever again.
He hoped he was luckier with the drill. Cartman was right: without electricity it wouldn't work, right? But he had the feeling that he could actually do something with it, so he let his instincts guide him.
He held it in his arms, wrapping the wire around his arm and closed his eyes. This time he felt that warm sensation again. His friends witnessed how the drill started to glow.
Stan extended his arms and then, the flash. Stan could perceive it even with his eyes closed.
When he opened them, he saw nothing but his friends were all squeezed against the walls.
"What...did I just do?"
" I don't know, but don't do that again, okay?" Craig shook his black tank top. "Gee, dumbass..."
"Yeah, be careful, Stan, we just inaugurated this place." Kyle told his friend.
"Sorry, I..."
Stan stopped. The way Wendy looked at him, shaking her head as if he was some kind of stupid critter, made him heart sink. Perhaps that was the problem—having that issue in his head.
"Listen, I'm not in the mood for this. I'll just watch and eat Tweek's buns or...I guess I'd better leave."
"Okay, if you want to go, I'll go with you." Kyle said.
"I-I'm leaving too. I promised my dad I'd he-he-help him with the car." Jimmy walked to them.
"I'll stay." Cartman was absorbed watching how Clyde, above his head, was struggling to fly diagonally, using his arms as a support, shirtless.
"Come on, fatass, you have nothing to do here." Kyle grabbed him by the collar.
"Eh, I'm no fat! I'm retaining water!"
"Oh, leaving so soon? Okay, see you. You got the keys, right? You can come whenever you want." Token told them. Well, not all of them, Cartman thought: he hadn't given him a key.
"Bye, guys." Stan raised a hand to say goodbye.
Wendy opened an eye to see them leave but didn't open her mouth.
The sky was dyed orange—had they really spent so much time in there? It was a very nice time to spend outdoors, with a comfortable weather. Since there wasn't much to do without electricity, the South Park residents could at least sit in the open air and enjoy the last hours of the day. Because he wasn't in that much of a hurry, Jimmy had no problem walking at a normal pace with his friends.
"I heard Kenny wo-wo-worked at a strip club, but I had no idea he was actually a stripper."
"Oh, yeah, he's been doing a bit of everything: sewing thongs, guarding the entrance, tending the bar..." Stan nodded.
"Has any of you seen him work?"
"I got a video." Cartman stopped to show Jimmy a video he had in his pocket.
"...I gotta admit leather looks amazing on him."
"Yep." Kyle agreed.
"Wait, this perspective..."
"Ah, yeah, I paid for a lap just to record him." Cartman confessed, chuckling.
"Don't worry about your powers, Stan." Jimmy told Stan after a small pause. "This is s-shocking for all of us. It'll ta-ta-take us a while to get used to it."
"Well, you seem to be doing well with it." Kyle observed.
"Don't think it's that easy. Sometimes I ca-can't control my speed and I bump into stuff and...well...chicks don't enjoy as much as they did before."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that."
"It's alright."
"Don't you think it's amazing, guys?" Cartman spoke looking at the sky.
"Yeah, we should have died that night, not developed powers." Stan nodded.
"It reminds me of the old times, when we were kids and we used to play. Remember?"
"Barely." Kyle admitted.
"That happened a long time ago." Stan said. "But I do remember. Crazy times, those. What were we called? Freedom Pals?"
"...It was actually Coon and Friends."
"Ah."
A van stopped by their side. Stan recognized it immediately: it was his uncle's new vehicle. Jimbo had let him drive it the day he bought it. He had barely had it for a year and it already looked worn-out, dirty, veteran. Of course, it was decorated with hunting stickers.
"Hi, uncle Jimbo. Hi, Ned. What's up?"
No sond from the driver's seat. Ned, the one they were seeing, was gazing at them expressionless.
"...It's coming right for us..."
"Hm?"
Ned finally moved and revealed what he was holding, where their gaze couldn't reach: a shotgun.
Not that it was unusual for them to use guns, but Ned placed the barrel on the window, aiming directly at the boys.
"It's coming right for us!" his voice and Jimbo's was heard, speaking in unison, lifelessly.
And Ned pulled the trigger.
Fortunately, Jimmy reacted quickly and there was nothing for the bullets to get.
When they noticed, they were two streets away from that point, confused, scared.
"Dude, what was he doing?!" Cartman exclaimed, placing a hand on his heart.
"I-I don't know! Oh, my God!" Stan was dizzy enough for that lightning-fast trip, but what just happened made him feel about to faint.
"Why did your uncle and Ned try to shoot at us in the face?!" Kyle was turned into the direction they had come from.
"I have no idea! I...Perhaps it was some kind of PTSD attack or something? You saw Ned's face! You heard them! They were like robots!"
"Sorry, Stan, but I only know that Ned wasn't joking: you almost g-got your brains scattered all around the sidewalk." Jimmy said.
What was that about? That was what Stan wanted to know.
"...South Park looks better when it's engulfed in the dark..."
"Yeah...It should be like this forever..."
Since Pete bought that second-hand convertible Cadillac, the meeting place had changed. There, in the car, they didn't have to worry about anybody's mother or father bothering them. They had already discussed renting a house and get rid of those forever—it was a nice idea they were working on.
They were aware of the rumors about what they did in that car, and the four of them thought it was all bullshit. Orgies for Satanic purposes? Please! There, they did what they did any other night, in summer, autumn or winter: smoke, drink coffee, talk about macabre issues. They hadn't done anything like that when everybody else was experimenting with the bodies of their friends and their own, they were not going to do it now. Even if posers tried to make it look like a rebellious thing to do, it was still conformist crap. Oh, but what did they expect? The people in that town was so stupid.
In the dark, with the headlights out, the only light around was the ember of their cigarettes. One could look up and see the stars perfectly, though they didn't seem to be pretty interested in such a dull sight.
"...So...Do you want Chinese?"
Michael didn't reply. He stood straight and shook a tuft of his long hair away from his face.
"What the hell is that?"
The others looked in the direction he was pointing at. Yes, there were lights ahead of them, very close to where they were parked...but they couldn't say what they were exactly.
"The police again." Firkle snorted, preparing himself for what would come next: 'goodnight, lady and gentlemen, your driving license, you don't have any drugs, right? please step out of the car', or something of the sort.
"Wait. No. It's not the police." Michael muttered.
None of the four goths walked out of the car or moved once they were standing up.
They didn't see what was coming to them until they had it right in front of them and couldn't escape.