An interesting idea I concocted while I was stuck for five hours in a car. I don't know how long this story is going to be, but I have some pretty good plot subjects going on. Please tell me what you think, because I love feedback. It's going to get better, I promise; the plot just needs to get its momentum going. This is only the first chapter after all, heheh.

This is rated Teen for violence, some swearing, and scenes of peril.

Characters that will be appearing in this and future chapters: Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Mr. Garrison, Kenny, Butters, Jimmy, Wendy, Craig... possibly some others if I need them.

Discaimer: I do not own South Park or Russia. Wow... talk about oxymorons... South Park and Russia in the same sentence? Crazy!!

ENJOY!

2013

"As of December 25, 2012, the Third World War this sick Earth has known is over! In less than two years, the bloodshed, the tears, and all the evil has stopped! Russia has succumb to the power of our superior nation, our superior might!"

Crowds cheered and whistled as snow fell in sheets among them. But each individual was so captivated by the orator's speech they couldn't have cared less. The icy chill of the wind was not enough to dampen their spirits. One of the shortest, yet bloodiest wars even known to man was finally over. Spectators looked up in hope toward the speaker.

He was a tall, imposing man with his fist waving in the air and a voice that commanded more power than any other. But he was not the President. Oh no, this man was Vincent Cooper, Pennsylvania State Representative. He was a man who, during the war, worked his way up through the ranks until finally he was the one standing on the podium. The only thing colder than the blistering snow was his chilling leer.

"But…" he began, and the thousand spectators instantly fell silent. "We as Americans must understand what went wrong. It was a corrupt government. A corrupt Congress. And who allowed all of this heinous tragedy to befall our country? The people! You always had the power to over throw them, and stop them from going to war. But did they console you? Did they ask for your opinions? No! They dropped those 6 bombs without even warning the general public!"

A cry of "Down with the government" rang out from the crowd, and Vincent raised his hand to silence them.

"But I tell you, my people, no more! No more shall this government use you! From now on, with me as your leader, we shall create a new government! One that does not answer to greedy statesmen, but to only one honorable man!"

"Cooper!" the people shouted. "Cooper! Cooper! Cooper!"

"Today, we cast off the shackles of our old nation!" Vincent shouted, his passion sending his body into a tense convulsion. "We shall no longer be states; Pennsylvanians, Georgians, Texans, no longer! From this day forward, I will be your chancellor and this great new phoenix shall rise from the ashes of the evil United States… and erupt into the flames of the new American Federation!"

XXXXX

July 4th, 2013… Cooper's tyrannical rule is on the rise. Not two months after his famous "Christmas Address" a massive rebellion took place. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people rose to echoing cry of "Cooper the Corrupt" and just as quickly they were silenced. Chancellor Cooper issued his recently founded Arbiters, a legion of highly trained soldiers, and shot down rebels in the streets, even as they screamed and fled.

But still, in large cities and small towns alike, Cooper's influence reigned supreme. It could not be denied that he had brought order to a country that had none. Once a nation looked down upon by foreigners, it was now a presence that caused international leaders to cower in their bunkers.

July 4th, weather forecast: snowy. A nuclear winter was the price to pay for defeating the power house that was Russia. But it made no difference to the civilians living in the rinky dink town of South Park. They were already accustomed to constant snow fall.

The nation's militia, the Arbiters, paraded the streets daily. The soldiers consisted mainly of youth, some of the most prominent members not even twenty years of age. At the head of the column marched a man appointed as Overseer of South Park by Chancellor Cooper himself: a man by the name of Garrison. Behind him were his three right hand men, each 18 years of age: Kyle Broflovski, Stan Marsh, and Eric Cartman. These men were to be feared above all others…

"Can you believe this snow?" Cartman complained, as they returned to their barracks, a posh, comfortable one especially compared to the living spaces of the citizens of South Park. "I'm getting really sick of it. What's the good of snow if there's no Christmas?"

"Holiday Season," Kyle corrected with a sneer. He removed his jacket and cranked up the heater another degree. Stan, wordless, propped his wet boots onto the nearby table and rested his hands behind his back. "You remember the PC Laws? You could get arrested for even mentioning Christmas!"

"Of course you would say that, you're a good for nothing Jew!" Cartman drank down a mug full of coffee. "You'll get all pissy if we forget to include your precious little Han-chuka-chuk thingy."

"Hanukah, fat ass!" Kyle cursed, clenching his gloved fist, his emerald eyes burning a hole through Cartman's soul.

"Chancellor Cooper tells us we should be accepting of all people from all walks of life," Stan interjected, hoping to calm the situation down. The last thing they needed was another fight. "Cartman, keep in mind the PC Laws, and Kyle, don't be so hasty to judge people."

"Shut up, Stan," Kyle spat, wiping his fiery red head about to face him. "What the hell do you know? I'm your superior officer, so don't you dare patronize me!"

"Sorry, sir," Stan apologized, his face downcast, staring at the floor. All three of them avoided each other's gazes, going about their evening business before lights out was issued and the city would go dark. Curfews were strictly upheld. Everything was strictly upheld. Garrison was perfectly bigoted, and he loved his job as Overseer. Needless to say, executions were not a rare occurrence….

"Is anyone else sick of Mr. Garrison?" Cartman started, fumbling with his mug.

"Shut up, Cartman!" Kyle growled, his patience wearing thin.

"I mean it!" the fatter boy continued. "We could totally take him! The other guys hate his guts, they'd totally support us!"

"I don't need to hear one of your half baked schemes again, Cartman," Kyle interrupted, waving his hand to stress his point.

"Whoever said this one was half baked?" Cartman snickered. "I've already got a plan. In fact, I'm going to enact it starting tomorrow." He stood up and made for the door, holstering his pistol on the way out. "You guys can still join me if you want, it's cool. I'd stay here and chat, but I've got a stupid ass Overseer to over throw. Talk to you in the morning."

Cartman opened the door to the bunker and slammed it shut behind him. Kyle's fingers twitched, but he stayed seated until the noise of Cartman's heavy boots became nothing but a faint thump in the distance. As soon as he deemed that enough time had passed, he jolted to his feet and grabbed his favorite rifle.

"Kyle, wait…." Stan started, but was muted with one withering glare.

"As Arbiters we cannot support insubordination, Stan."

"But…" the black haired boy murmured. "He's our friend."

"Friends mean nothing anymore!" Kyle said, calmly. "We can't let Cartman get in the way of my own plans. If I have to pose of Garrison's puppet for a while longer, then so be it. But god dammit, I'm not going to allow Cartman to steal this from me! C'mon Stan!"

"Do we have to go now?" Stan asked, timidly, still trying to disarm his friend. "We could wait till morning. W-we… we could sleep in the same bed together again. M-maybe, if you're up to it? I mean… it was nice the first few times… w-wasn't it?"

Kyle stopped mid stride. His eyes glazed over in thought as he seriously considered the weighty offer. He staggered back and forth between his conflicting emotions. He swallowed hard and looked back toward Stan.

"Okay…" he whispered. "It's not like Cartman's gonna get away with anything tonight. We have all day tomorrow to do something about it."

As Kyle slid underneath the covers, Stan held him firmly in his arms. "What are we going to do tomorrow?" he asked nervously.

Kyle wrenched himself away laid with his back toward Stan. "Anything we have to…."