Author's Note: The final chapter of Fiends and it's been what, nine months? It seems so long ago I started posting this bitch. Still, quite a journey right? Did anyone ever think things would end up like they did? Well, once again, a very open-ended ending. Any of you want to see where this goes, check out Zephyr Morpheus Lee's Hell's Babysitter. Shameless advertising, yes, but a few of the things that ZML wrote showed up in Fiends, one in particular being the opening scene of this chapter.

Anyway, I'd like to give a big thank you to my reviewers in particular ShadowMajin who reviewed every single chapter and helped me out on certain bits, the previous chapter's Roxi scene being one of them which I did not give him credit. And it is also from his twisted mind that that disgruntled Bus Driver comes from. Other reviewers I'd like to thank for reviewing most, if not all chapters are ZML, Red Rose of Kyle Broflovski, MrMissMrs Random, Roxi2Star, -Beyond The Horizon-, and Misha Novak.

At the same time, I'd like to give an apology to xoxoAndWhatxoxo, O.o-Fox-fire-o.O, IFreakingLoveYouNot, and divineravyn too lazy to login. You guys sent in your OCs and I barely used them if at all. They were good, though in O.o-Fox-fire-o.O's case I tend to give them either bit or pivotal parts before forgetting about them unintentionally, but the fault for barely using them rests with me. To be honest, I did not expect the initial response I got to this story and had more OCs than I could handle. I wasn't able to come up with roles for these barely used and almost forgotten OCs and they ended up barely in the story as a result. Once again, I'm sorry but when it comes to putting a canon character or an OC in a role, I usually try to use the canon character first because, hey, this is South Park fanfiction and wouldn't really qualify as one if there aren't South Park canon characters in it.

Anyway, I will say right now I am open to writing one more installment for this storyline. Really, I'm game. Just waiting for ZML to post a few more chapters so I get where she wants to go, even though we had quite the discussion over it the other day and let me say, I like where she wants to go. Want more Charlie/Bain interaction, she's the person to go to. Anyway, what ultimately prevents me from sitting down and writing a third installment is that I have no idea what to do. I have no plot idea that can serve as the main plot. I've taken the "give a character amnesia" and "somebody new moves into town" plots that seems so popular in a bunch of fandoms and put a few spins on them. Probably not original spins but at least they were different in some ways, right? I'm more than willing to do something original and am willing to give credit to anyone that suggests something that captures my imagination. In the event that something does occur to me, here's your chance to give me permission to continue using your OCs from this story in the next one. Same offer from Stranger in those Homicidal Eyes, send me a review or PM that tells me I can continue using your OC or resubmit when I post the new story. Don't, and like with SITHE, I will drop the character and plotline they had going altogether. Makes for awkward transitioning but that's just how it rolls.

Last but not least, the final results of the poll for most popular OCs in this fic. Only going up to fifth place. Tied for first place is Zephyr Morpheus Lee's Charlie and my Bain. For third place is another tie between -Beyond The Horizon-'s Kyra and ShadowMajin's Bus Driver. Fifth place has another tie, this time between PinkParka's Bonnie and FunkyChicken001's Brianna. Okay, so technically it's six places but they were all tied. For information on the other places, send me a PM.

So, until we meet again, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

Prelude to Hell

She hadn't seen Rod yet but Wendy figured that it was best to get this over with as soon as possible. No sense dwelling on it all day; besides she had broken up with Stan in the morning before. It wouldn't be unusual as they had broken up, what, countless times before and the time of day had never mattered.

Twice at recess, twelve times in the morning, once between second and third period, five times at lunch (she vividly recalled those as someone usually covered with food at the end), the list goes on. Majority happened at night though. She had never really thought about it like this or realized she had kept a mental tally.

This was like one bad fanfiction story on the internet.

Well buck up girl. You've done this before…just not with this sense of finality about it. She knew that if she ever considered another relationship with Stan again, she would always remember that one infidelity. Wasn't it supposed to be the guy who cheated?

There he was, she could see him. It was almost game time and Rod had yet to show up. Well, even if he wasn't here, he would find out soon enough. She was going to make sure everyone remembered this break up. Stan, be strong.

Squaring her shoulders and putting on her most pissed off look, she marched towards her unsuspecting boyfriend.

As she came into hearing distance, she exclaimed, "Stan! I've been looking all over for you!"

The deer in the headlights look was cute on him and she further regretted what she had done behind his back and what she was about to do.

"Wendy? Is something wrong?" Stan asked, concerned. Wow, he was paying attention to her. Now that she thought about it, he had been distant with her lately. That thought alone heated up some of the anger she had been feeling only a couple days ago. Maybe she could use it so that she could get through this ordeal.

"Wrong? You've been ignoring me and you wonder if something's wrong?" she laid into him, her guilt being the only thing that held her back from really flaying him alive.

"I've been busy," he defended. "And…and you haven't really been around either!"

"You never called me," she accused.

"Ditto," he shot back.

Okay, he was fighting back. This was just going to make it easier for her to say something she knew was going to be ugly. Yes, this was starting to give the signs that this was going a nasty breakup. Damn it Stan, why couldn't you be docile for this one?

She saw him lean his head slightly and something change in his eyes. Curious despite herself, she glanced towards where he was looking and spotted Kyle turning a corner, not even looking at them. Shooting her eyes back to Stan, she saw that there was this hint of forlornness in his expression. He looked so sad…this was going to make this all the more harder.

But maybe…maybe she could use it.

"Jesus, Stan! Don't you get that I can't handle all of these mood swings!" she cried out.

Let him take that as he will. She could mean anyone's mood swings. Hers or Stan's.

"You never complained before!" Stan protested. Ah, so he thought she meant his. She'd just have to roll with it.

"I complain about it constantly, but you don't bother hearing about it! You only listen when we break up!" she said accusingly. Well, it wasn't a lie. She had complained about it before but if Stan was smart enough…or aware of it, he would know that she hadn't complained about such a thing since they got back together.

"So what, are we breaking up or something?" Stan demanded, looking frustrated.

Wow. He set it all up for her. Guess she might as well knock'em down.

"I guess we are!" she confirmed though she felt a little bit of herself die on the inside. This is what that asshole Rod wanted, right? Yes she had betrayed Stan and the fact that she had allowed herself to be tricked laid all the blame solely on her. She had wanted to believe those lies at the time and because she had, this is where she was.

Where they were.

So focused on this, she hadn't noticed the crowd around them, giving them room and not venturing too close should either of the two snap at them. They were watching but none of them looked interested. No, they were all bored, waiting for them to go through the rounds and to breakup temporarily.

"Well, then, you're a real bitch about it, aren't you?" Stan spat at her, now with an angry expression on his face. Normally, her own anger would block or shield her from the barbs Stan would throw at her but this time she didn't have it. And it stung. It really did. She never fully realized just how harmful the words they said to one another during one of their angry breakups.

Ignorance was truly bliss here.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop her from fighting back. Let no one say that Wendy would take this kind of crap lying down. "Oh, at least I'm not some selfish prick! All you care about is when we have sex!"

"Because it's important!" Stan argued. "I at least thought that maybe you enjoyed it too!"

A brief flashback. That's what she had. A brief flashback to the times when she and Stan would lay with one another and the gentle caresses…which were then replaced with the memory of Rod and how rough and dominant he had been.

The memory of her betrayal, still so fresh…maybe that was why she said what she did next. Members of their little audience, you are about to get the show that you want so much.

"Well you know what, Stan? Last week, I faked it! Yeah! Shove that up your ass and see how it works for you!"

It was completely mean, a blow so low that Stan was standing on it. The unfortunate part is that again, there was a nugget of truth in there. Whether it was because she had something to compare it to, she didn't know but when she said what she had said, she had said it with meaning.

Already the whispers were starting and Wendy took that as her cue to exit, stage right.

As soon as she was out of sight, she slumped in on herself. That…that had taken a lot more out of her than she had thought it would. Yet the deed was done and there was no doubt that this would be all over the school before first period. She sure hoped that Rod was happy now.

"Wendy!" a voice called at her and she turned to see Bebe hurrying over towards her. Perfect, even though the trauma of breaking up with Stan was over, she was going to have to relive it again with her best friend. Great.

"Bebe?" she sighed, waiting to get it over with.

"Wendy! You won't believe this!" Bebe exclaimed, obviously excited over something. "I just heard that they found Rod over at that construction site, you know the one in downtown, and that he was dead! Police found him there and you won't believe who they arrested!"

Wait. What? Rod was dead? What was…when…how…what the hell was going on? But she had just…and she did…

"Wendy? Are you listening to me?" Bebe demanded. "The police think Eric Cartman killed Rod. When they arrested him, he was dressed up as Bruce Vilanch in a rat outfit. Can you believe it?"

"Rod's dead?" Wendy cracked, trying to make sense of this. This…this had to be some kind of black comedy sketch or something. There was no way this could be…that Rod could…that she hadn't had to do what she had just done…

"Yeah! I can't fucking believe it," Bebe shook her head. First Devin, now Rod. Hey, do you think Cartman might have been the one to kill her? I would say it was you know who who was responsible but still, they found Cartman there and…hey, are you okay Wendy?"

No Bebe. She was not okay. She wasn't sure if she would ever be okay again.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I've got dibs on Kenny!"

"Why is it you who gets to have Kenny? I like him too!"

"But I called him first. Pick someone else!"

Gwendolyn was not surprised that the argument between Brittany and Bonnie was heating up but what did surprise her was that her old group was dividing into Pro-Brittany and Pro-Bonnie factions. LESBIAN was tearing itself apart over the rule of one guy to a girl. Neither of the two girls were going to back down from the other and both were determined that only one would have Kenny.

Gwendolyn knew it was something that she should have taken care of the first minute she had been confronted by it. Oh well, it looked like it would be the wound that would kill the group off in the end.

She snorted to herself even as she eavesdropped on the "meeting" the girls in there were holding. She was not going to save them from themselves, not this time. They had kicked her out, remember? And if anything, Gwendolyn was a bit of a vindictive person.

Without her leadership, LESBIAN would fall. It was too bad, though. She had heard about the recent breakup Stan had had with Wendy and she could have used their help to make Stan hers again.

Oh well, maybe her new group could help her with that. Sure, she was the only member of it right now but that didn't stop her from trying to lure away a couple of LESBIANs to her new group and continue her cause.

Many Unfortunate Females Focusing Deliberately and Intentionally Very Egotistical and Randy. Or, as she called it herself: em you eff eff dee eye vee ee are.

MUFFDIVER didn't sound too bad, did it?

Naturally, by now everyone had heard about the latest breakup between Stan and Wendy, in particular remarking about just how ugly it was this time. Kyle felt for his best friend, he really did. Having someone imply to just about anyone in hearing distance that you were a bad lay was tantamount to having a death sentence put on you.

Fortunately for Stan, he was the quarterback for the school and considered highly desirable, so much so that this thing would be swept under the rug and forgotten about in no time.

It kinda made Kyle a bit envious; if he had that kind of popularity, perhaps some people might get on Cartman for always ripping on his Jewish ancestry. Oh well, life goes on, cows always take a shit in the pasture, and Cartman will forever remain the most bigoted asshole on the planet.

For some reason, the Jew…couldn't bring himself to comfort his best friend this time. He did not know why. Was it because there had been so many breakups between Stan and Wendy that he was desensitized to them? Sure, Stan would have a crisis, think about going Goth every once in a while, but ultimately he'd be okay. Did he really need to be at Stan's side even though this last one was a bit more harsh than previous ones?

Just thinking about it all made the Jew stare into his packed locker, mindlessly observing all the books and binders he had in there. He could see them but he really didn't process them; they were ordinary objects in here with no meaning and he couldn't make himself get into gear and grab what he needed. There was a bit of lethargy somewhere in here but he was not in the mood to fight against it.

Eventually, though, from force of habit and every studious thing ingrained into his head, he picked out the correct books and binders, stuffing them into his backpack. He usually grabbed enough stuff for two periods; that way he wouldn't always have to race over to his locker between classes.

As he closed his locker, he stopped from moving as he learned that someone had been using his locker door as cover. Yes, the person had black hair but no, this person was not Stan. His lips curved wryly as he asked himself why he was so surprised, note the sarcasm.

"Stalking me Damien?" he asked casually. "If so, you're doing it wrong."

"For what reason would I need to stalk you?" Damien answered with a question. "I just have to look into your soul to know everything there is to know about you. You should know I wouldn't stoop to such low, mortal means."

"I seem to recall you following me, without my knowledge, to where the old basketball court used to be and then ambushing me the moment I was alone," Kyle said dryly. "Is there something you want from me?"

"A question that you already know the answer to," Damien replied smoothly. "I want you to come back to me, Kyle. I was able to withstand all those horrible days without you with the knowledge that you were here, waiting for me to pick up where we last left off. Now I'm stuck on the surface and I have never felt lonelier."

"Give me a reason to consider why I should," Kyle told him. "I'm not going back to living in fear, wondering if one wrong move will have you forcing yourself into my life and making me worry for my very wellbeing."

"Am I such a scary person?" Damien pouted.

"Yes. Yes you are," Kyle answered plainly.

"It's because of my eyes, isn't it?" Damien demanded though there wasn't any force behind his words. Kyle paused, wondering if this was Damien trying to banter with him playfully.

"While unusual, I doubt it's your eyes," Kyle replied. "I think it's more your demeanor. You're so dark and antagonistic."

"Aww, I was hoping you'd say dark and evil," Damien whined.

With half-lidded eyes, Kyle deadpanned, "You would. Don't tell me Cartman told you that Christmas story of his."

"Well—" Damien began to say before he was interrupted.

"I said don't tell me," the Jew stated. "Anyway, you give off these weird vibes. Not the kind that say you're eccentric or different. I'm talking about the kind that say you're dangerous and not afraid to torture someone."

"Well, I am the Antichrist," Damien said proudly.

"Ever want to be something different?" Kyle hazard.

"Yes, your lover," Damien rejoined with a hungry grin. "I used to be that. Let me become it again."

"And like I said, give me a reason why I should consider it," Kyle reiterated.

Damien cupped his cheek, stroking his thumb against his skin gently. "Because no matter how hard you deny it, you miss me Kyle. You miss the attention I give, the protection I offer, and the way I touch you that makes you feel electrified."

Kyle swallowed. "Those are some reasons…good reasons…and are you reading my soul or something? I could let the first two go but that last one I definitely never told or implied to you at all."

"I didn't because I already know you so well that I don't have to," Damien said in a voice so quiet and yet so audible that the Jew did not have to strain his hearing to hear. "Yet above all that I mentioned, I know for a fact that you enjoy that little thing that I do with my tongue."

Insert bright red blush here.

"Don't say that out loud where anybody can hear you!" he hissed, snapping his head from side to side to see if anyone was giving them looks.

"So modest," Damien chuckled. "It never ceases to amuse me."

"Always seems like someone gets a laugh at my expense," Kyle muttered, slightly relived to see that no one was paying any attention to them.

"Do you hear me laughing?" Damien inquired. "No, I wouldn't truly laugh at you unless you did something so epically stupid that you'd be a shoe-in for the Darwin Award for the next ten years. Everyone else I'd laugh at on a matter of principle. See how much I care about you?"

"Right. You're so reassuring," Kyle rolled his eyes but wasn't able to prevent a small smile from curving his lips upwards.

"Naturally," Damien agreed, apparently ignoring the sarcasm. "So, what would I have to do to get you to agree to come with me to some establishment where I can try and convince you to let me in your pants?"

Kyle stared, blinking at the Antichrist as he went over what he had just said. "You mean…you're talking about a date, right?"

"If that's what you mortals call it these days," Damien shrugged.

"Depends," Kyle answered. "Are there going to be any Deadites?"

"No…unless you want me to pray to my father for some?" Damien told him though the Jew could tell that the other was hoping he would agree.

"Got my fill of them the last time," Kyle said, looking away.

"Kyle, don't make me beg," Damien said lowly. "It would demean us both. Me for obvious reason and you, well let's just say it'd be embarrassing to say the least."

"Right, back to the threats, huh?" he asked sarcastically.

"I don't make threats," Damien replied, "but look at it this way. My powers are very limited now so I can't force you to do anything you don't want to. I'm stuck to mortal means and unfortunately my babysitter has sharp eyes. So, I am reduced to prostrating myself before you in the hope you take pity on me."

"When you put it that way," Kyle said slowly, "I guess what really matters is if you have your sitter's permission."

Damien's eyes lit up, reading between the lines. "So you're willing to…?"

"I'll give you a fighting chance," Kyle sighed. "Prove to me I don't have to be afraid of you and maybe we'll see about anything else."

He probably should have left it off at "fighting chance" because he could tell, Damien hadn't heard anything after that. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't, Kyle didn't know but what he did know was that the Antichrist looked like Christmas had come early for him.

Slinging an arm around his shoulders, Damien said, "You will not regret this, my pet. You'll see, before the night is over, I'll have you feeling so good that you'll want to be bad."

Kyle couldn't help the smile on his face grow larger at the promise.

"Hey, have you heard?" Sawyer asked his (insert slight blush here (hey, he was getting better!)) boyfriend the moment he found him.

Christian gave him a blank look, an obvious sign that no, he had not heard what Sawyer was talking about. Looking around nervously, something that made Christian raise an eyebrow at him, he took the effeminate boy aside and leaning in close so that he could speak privately.

"They found Rod over at the construction site last night," he whispered into the other boy's ear. "He's dead."

Sawyer pulled away, mostly so he could gauge how Christian was going to take the news. He had a couple of suspicions and he had spoken to Killer about them but he just wanted to be sure that they were just that, suspicions.

"That bastard's dead?" Christian asked him in a quiet voice, giving him his full, undivided attention. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "A bunch of people are already talking about it and also, I went past the place on the way to school. Saw a bunch of cops and a totaled motorcycle. Couldn't see much else; a lot of people were moving around so it made it hard to see if it was him."

"And you're basing this off of that," Christian demanded.

"I'm pretty sure it was his bike," Sawyer told him. "Saw that thing a few times before he got that car. With how many people were around it, I'm thinking Rod was laying on top of it."

Okay, his arm was starting to go a bit numb now. Christian had gripped it as soon as he had made his argument. Sawyer figured, as a guy, he could take it for a bit before breaking down and pleading for it back but until then, he had a boyfriend to comfort.

Damn, would he ever get used to saying that word, even in his own head?

"He can't hurt you anymore," he told Christian softly. With his other arm, he brought him closer. "He won't be able to ambush you in the bathroom or try and push you against your locker. You're safe now."

"I wish I could believe that," Christian murmured. "If I could actually see…or at least…I…"

"It's gonna be okay," he cooed, rocking Christian side to side like he was a child. Managing to slip his numbed arm out of Christian's grip, he began doing his best to stroke the long, brown hair in a further attempt to soothe him. "If you want, maybe I could get Christophe to snap a photo of the body and show it to you. Would…would you like that?"

"That's pretty morbid," Christian said, looking up to make direct eye contact with him. "But I'd like that. To be sure that bastard got what was coming to him. Maybe, if it isn't too much trouble, could I find out what killed him?"

"Anything," Sawyer promised as he embraced the other teen tighter.

It didn't seem like Christian had anything to do with it. It was a silly thought anyway, thinking it was Christian of all people who could have killed Rod. Still, he had to wonder.

Who did do it?

Bain sneezed, rubbing his nose in discomfort and slight annoyance. Please don't tell him he was getting a cold on top of things.

If he could have gone to a doctor, he would have but with the heat up, Bain knew that he would raise some kind of flag. A victim of assault found at the construction site and someone going to Hell's Pass for injuries consistent with an assault? He'd have to suffer with the soreness for now.

Lying low until things blew over looked to be the best choice in this situation.

Lying low happened to include him skipping another day from school. It wasn't something he wanted to do as a student only got so many days of absences before they were held back by default. With how many days he had missed already, only one of which was excused, he knew he was pushing his luck.

At least he was able to use his mother's backwards parenting skills this time around to get her to ease the pressure from the school district. The woman still saw him as a grade schooler, not seeing that he was not eight years old anymore.

He was eighteen thank you very much.

Yet, he still felt pleased with himself. Another kill, another notch to add to his metaphorical belt. Not the crowning achievement of his illustrious career but Rod wasn't a catch that he would throw back. Okay, he was a bit proud but that was only because he had managed to pull the thing off. For a bit, he had thought that his number was up, that perhaps this time he had bit off more than he could chewed. He wouldn't admit feeling such, not now or ever, but that fear, the fear of death…

Well, he had been on the cusp, hadn't he? Would that mean that he would be more careful or perhaps so overly cautious that he'd hesitate or avoid going after another kill? Was he damaged goods?

He snorted. Like hell. This was a fluke, what with that "hero" interfering. If it hadn't been for "Mysterion," he would have been able to dispose of Rod like he had originally planned. Nice, quick "suicide." It's painless, according to the song. Brings on so many changes.

There was a click, the so very familiar sound of someone turning the doorknob. He crossed his arms and glowered at the door, fully expecting his mother to be on the other side. He was once again proud of himself. He didn't change his facial expression, not even by a millimeter.

So his glower, without changing in its intensity, met up with Charlotte who he was pretty sure was skipping class.

"You look happy," the girl snarked. "Bathing in the sweet smell of success?"

"Success isn't a smell, it's a feeling," he replied, "and that feeling is intense soreness. If I wasn't apprehensive about raising some suspicion, I would probably have some kind of prescription pain killers with me."

"Then you'd be loopy. That ought to be fun to see," Charlotte remarked as she made herself at home leaning against his wall.

"What would be fun right now is to throttle you, non-lethally," he retorted.

"You've made progress; now you only want to hurt me, not kill me," she commented. Eyeing him over, she added, "I think I could take you."

"Some adrenaline would level the playing field," he growled.

"Maybe," she replied non-committingly

He raised an eyebrow. Nothing else? No more tough girl banter? She was holding back, wasn't she? Oh, he could read her, read her like a fucking book. What was on this girl's mind?

"Well?" he asked.

She frowned at him, crossing her arms defensively. "What?"

"You seem to be holding back," he pointed out blandly. "Usually we throw a few barbs at one another until one concedes only to do it again next time we meet and the time after that. Is there something on your mind, dear Charlotte?"

"Nothing," she said sharply. "I'm just…I just wanted to see how you were holding up. Rod kinda did a number on you."

"You're changing the topic," he grounded out.

"And so are you," she replied. Goddamn it, she was smirking at him.

"You know, I always find out," he told her quietly. "Keep as many secrets as you want, bury them a mile underground, I will dig them up. You know this. I know this. Care to save some time for once? Otherwise it's an exercise in futility."

"It would be easier but when have I ever done things the easy way?" Charlotte asked rhetorically. "I've never made things easy for you before so why do you think I would start now?"

"You wouldn't be you then," he finished for her.

"And you always like a challenge," she added. "Figure things out and shove it in my face like you always do."

"I only 'shove it in your face' because I demand some kind of reparation for my efforts," he said dryly. "Shoving it in your face usually gets me the most unique facial expressions out of you. It's not much but it tells me that I can make you really uncomfortable when I want to."

"Gives you power, that's what it does," she stated. "In some ways, and I hate to say this, but you might have had a few things in common with Rod. Rape is about power. Murder is about power, to you at least. You are two guys who want power."

"Control," he agreed reluctantly. "But that's what you want too, isn't it? For years Jackie-boy held control over your life—"

"I don't want to talk about him," she interrupted, her voice brooking no argument. "Not today."

Sensitive topic, Bain thought to himself. Once again, she had played into his hands. So Jack White had something to do with today. Even from beyond the grave, he still had some sort of hold over her. How did he do that? Well, he had a lot of time today and internet access. Another session of research seemed to be called for.

"Anyway, I just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing, not get psychoanalyzed out of nowhere," Charlotte said, making to take her leave.

Oh, like he would let her get the last word.

"Do you know what the other name for rape is?" he asked idly.

Charlotte paused, looking over her shoulder at him, wondering what the hell he was going to say. She didn't have to ask "what" or anything; a look was all he needed.

"Unfinished murder," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "Going by that logic, Rod has more victims than I do. A bunch of walking, talking, breathing corpses are walking the halls of our school. It's morbid, when you think about it. Of course, I'm going to have to do my damn hardest to beat that asshole at our own game."

"I've said this before but I'll say it again," Charlotte said slowly. "You are one sick fuck."

"I wouldn't be me if I wasn't," he replied, taking his turn to smirk.

"You believe me, right?" Stan asked pleadingly, eyes boring into Kyra hopefully. "I can satisfy girls just fine! Wendy's just…she's being a bitch! She was just trying to make me look bad!"

"I believe you Stan," Kyra managed to get in. Really, five minutes after meeting up with him and she hadn't been able to get a word in. It was kinda pathetic the way he was trying to plea to her that he wasn't bad in bed. She really didn't know if he was and had no basis to base him on. It was like walking up to a complete stranger and saying that your junk is thirteen inches long.

"Really? You really believe me?" Stan asked. He looked so much like a puppy then. She found that she couldn't bear to betray the trust he was putting in her to help him rebuild his shaken self-esteem. "Kyra, you have no idea how much this means to me."

Well, Stan, you have no idea how much it means to her that you came to her with this issue of yours.

"I tried to find Kyle but he wasn't around and Kenny was ignoring everybody," Stan added, inserting his foot into his mouth. "And I wouldn't dare go to Cartman, thank God he's in police custody right now. Craig and his guys were out too, especially since they would have told me to grow some balls and Jimmy would have just tried to tell me a joke that would have made me feel worse—"

"Okay, okay! I get it!" she interrupted him, flustered. Okay, so she wasn't his first choice to go to for this. Kinda put things into perspective.

"I mean, what's her problem?" Stan continued. "From out of nowhere, man. I just don't get it."

"These things happen…and sometimes girls like to be mean," she told him, trying to reassure him. "They can be worse than guys."

"You're telling me," Stan agreed. "If a guy's pissed at you, he punches you in the face. He doesn't go around telling lies about how you perform in bed."

There was nothing she could say to that, he said it perfectly. She know just how convoluted and elaborate girls could get if they were pissed at you. Rarely did one go up to your face and tell them what you did to piss them off. There were a few exceptions, mind you, but the vast majority always stabbed you in the back when you weren't looking.

The world of women was so much more savage than that of men.

"So what will you do now?" she asked, putting the question out there just for the sake of putting it out there. She honestly didn't know what she could do to prologue this conversation without them falling into some kind of awkward silence. Best to try and take Stan's mind off this, get him thinking. He ought to cheer up a bit if he wasn't thinking about that brutal breakup.

"I gotta do something about the gossip," Stan answered automatically, much to her dismay. He was still thinking about this thing, damn it. "I can't have people thinking that I suck at sex. I'm the motherfucking quarterback! I have to be great at it by default!"

"So you're going to do that how?" she asked, her throat becoming a bit dry.

"The fastest way would be to screw anything that moves and doesn't say no," Stan thought out loud. He grimaced as a thought occurred to him. "But then people will start thinking I've become a copycat of that asshole Rod. Like hell I'll be compared to him."

"How about you just say that Wendy was just trying to make you look bad so that you'll have to, I don't know, go back to her when no one wants to go out with you," she suggested, coming up with an idea that she herself thought only Hollywood would use on a bad day.

"That's not a bad idea but it's not enough," Stan murmured in agreement. Why…why wasn't she surprised by that? "But it's not enough! It's one thing to say that bitch is just trying to cut me off from everyone. I need something else, something that will make it look like I really don't care about what she said and that I can get anyone I want."

Kyra had a bad feeling about where this was going.

Stan looked up at her, his blue eyes lighting up as he reached the very conclusion that Kyra feared he would. "Say, would you like to be my next girl—"

"No!" she interrupted.

"What?" Stan blinked, surprised that she had cut him off before he could finished.

"Stan, I like you," she told him honestly. "I would love more than anything to go out with you but if this is some kind of rebound or scheme to get Wendy back, then no. I don't want that. I don't want to be used like some kind of tool and then tossed aside for the next best thing. I can't…I won't do that to myself."

Stan's jaw was lowered, hanging in the air as if he was being told something that went against everything he had ever been taught. Kyra shrunk in on herself, slightly berating herself for speaking so harshly to the guy that she had liked for so long.

In her head, though, she had a vision of Gary supporting her, telling her that she didn't have to be used if she didn't want to be, that her happiness was more important than bagging the man of her dreams. To think only a few weeks ago, Kyra couldn't bring herself to utter even a peep to this handsome specimen of a guy. Just when had she grown a backbone? When had she begun to value herself as a person and be so assertive?

The answer immediately came to her: when she had started spending time with Gary. Damn, she owed him so much.

"Wow," Stan finally managed to say.

She nodded her head, looking him in the eye defiantly. She dared him to try and propose what she knew he had just thought of. She wasn't Kyra right now, she was PwnMaster Extremist (a screen name she thought befitting of her when gaming) and she took no shit from any one, n00bs and veterans alike.

"Well?" she prompted.

"That sounds…horrible," Stan said, his voice cracking. "I wouldn't…"

"What about Gwendolyn Long?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes at this. "Wendy 2."

"Oh! Her. Yeah…I didn't really do that to her, did I?" he asked worriedly.

"You did," she told him firmly. "You used her and when Wendy wanted you back, you dumped Gwendolyn like she was Apple's last iPhone. It was pretty bad."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Stan moaned as he covered his eyes, slouching backwards. "That's…that sounds like something Cartman would do! Or Rod! Or my father!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she tried to comfort him.

"Goddamn, what have I been doing?" Stan wailed. "What the fuck do I do now? What can I do? What—"

"Why don't you try calming down first," she instructed. As if she was one to talk. If she was playing, she wouldn't tell herself to calm down; she'd annihilate every n00b that got in her way, that's what she'd do. "How about you try and just ignore it? Show you don't care and let others make their own decisions?"

"No offense but that's too lame," Stan told her.

"Maybe," she shrugged, "but that other choice you have is to do something retarded that will make you look not only bad but bring you one step closer to becoming your dad."

Stan quickly crossed himself, shuddering at the thought. "So what was your idea again?" he asked.

"Just live," she said, not knowing how she could put it any other way. "Go through school like it was any ordinary day. If people ask you if what Wendy said was true, give them an honest answer. If they don't accept that answer, tell them to believe what they want because it doesn't matter to you what they think. Be cool about and confident in yourself and people will just think Wendy was saying a load of bull."

"Wow," Stan said again only this time it wasn't in shock. Now, she didn't know if what he said next was impulsive or if he was really serious but he nevertheless said it. "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Not as a rebound," she repeated. "This soon after you're single? It doesn't make me feel comfortable."

"Oh come on!" Stan whined.

"If you want, we could go out on a date," she suggested.

"So you'll be my girlfriend?" Stan perked up.

"I said I'd be willing to go on a date with you," she said, her natural shyness finally triumphing over her and making her lower her eyes. "I didn't say I would become your girlfriend."

"I'm confused," Stan confessed. "How can you go on a date with someone if they're not together?"

She was glad he had asked that. She had once asked that question to Gary once.

"Most people who go out on a date with someone is usually to get to know the other person better. If everyone were together before they went on a date, we would have more people getting divorced or no one would be single. What do you think first dates are? People going out on a first date do so to get to know the other person before they decide to go steady. Same with blind dates except you don't know who the other person is. Besides, it's stupid to go steady with someone before you know who they are, who they really are."

Not verbatim but pretty close.

Stan was staring at her as if she had just given him the gospel. "I never thought about it that way," he said softly.

"A long time ago, neither had I," she admitted.

"I think I understand," Stan said. "Would you like to go out on a date with me? Not like girlfriend and boyfriend. Just friends."

"I would…love that," she answered him, caving in to her desires.

In her mind, it was about time.

Brianna didn't really know what to feel when she learned of Rod's untimely demise.

There was a slight sense of loss but it wasn't something that was overwhelming. To be honest, Rod had been a friend, yes, but she hadn't been that close to him. They had their banters, their conversations, but it hadn't meant that much.

Not until that day he had begged her to come to his house. Followed him up to his room. Given her that…thing. Do to him what he had asked of her. It wasn't the kind of thing you could forget, you know?

What had he done to her?

Before…before she had been headstrong, sure of herself, but not determined to do anything or make something of herself. She was so content to continue as she was doing, being spontaneous every once in a while to liven things up.

Then Rod had strolled into her world and had added something, something so warm. As she had found out, he was a manwhore and liked to mess around. Kinda lowered her opinion of him but she found that she somewhat enjoyed just talking with him because however he was with other people, he was so friendly and kind with her. Made her feel a bit privileged, you know?

She had had a taste of what he could do, that night he stopped by when she had been working on some homework and she had been so sore and satisfied afterwards. Then there was that change and he had asked her to take charge and do something that she had found humiliating, to him at least. But it had been so empowering for her and on some basic level she had liked it.

She still couldn't believe it.

Late at night, she found herself surfing the internet and finding her way to some risqué sites that she hadn't even known existed before. So much leather and freaky shit. Yet she couldn't look away, getting exciting with each second that passed as she allowed herself to become a captive audience. Some of the things she recognized as Rod doing with her that first time only gentler compared to what she had watched.

She found herself wanting to join, to participate, and the recoil that she felt she should be feeling not occurring. What path had Rod led her on? And now that he was gone, she was alone now.

All alone and surrounding by people who would never understand what she was becoming.

In the darkness, tragedy can shape you, sorrow can temper you, and single-minded determination will sharpen you into a weapon. What kind of weapon you become all depends on the choices you make.

On her perch, Roxi stared out into the night, a more refined version of her leather superhero outfit encasing her body. The stitching was better hidden and not so obvious, the fur attached in strategic places so as to conceal her tools of the trade in case she needed them, and last of all, a cat-eared hood covered her head, hiding her easily recognizable hair. The domino mask remained but her transformation from that night's tragic events was complete.

Mysterion was out there, watching over this town, patrolling for the criminals and occasional supervillian that preyed on those who could not fight back. Though injured in that last confrontation, he had vanished, once again robbing her of her desired Spiderman kiss that she swore she would obtain.

In the meantime, she would get him to notice her by doing what he did every night. He was bound to not only notice her but look into her. That would be when she would draw him in, lure him into giving her what she wanted. At the same time, she would be proving to herself and the world that she was not some damsel in distress, waiting for the nearest hero to save her.

The path she was choosing to take was a dark one and she knew without a doubt that she would experience hardships and issues that could tear her psyche apart. It would be worth it, though, when this town was made safe and Mysterion treated her as she wanted him to, as an equal.

That heinous villain was also still out there and she needed to stop him before he hurt any others. Hide as much as he wanted, she would find him and justice would be placed upon him.

"Sleep peacefully, citizens of South Park," she said to herself as she stood up, squaring her shoulders as she prepared for her first night out in the dark streets of this crime-ridden town. "Revel in your security for tonight you are under the watchful eye of Le Chat Noir."

From below her, a window opened and Mari stuck her head out. "That's not even English!"

"Goddamn it Mari!" Le Chat Noir shouted down at the girl. "Dieu qui baise fichu il! Why don't you take your pessimistic comments and go to Hell!"

"If nobody points out how lame you're being, you're just going to get yourself into trouble," Mari replied, no inflection in her voice. "Again."

"Good God, why don't you go back inside and make me a fucking sandwich!" Le Chat Noir shouted back. "I'm gonna be hungry when I get back from patrol so have it ready!"

"I'm not Alfred Pennyworth and last I checked, I wasn't a butler either," Mari shot back. "Make it yourself."

"Ungrateful," Le Chat Noir grumbled to herself and she threw herself out into the night.