Author's Note: And I'm back. Here's the sequal to Malicious Motives. Probably wondering what I'm going to do and where I'm going to go with this. I mean, the characters were practically graduating high school in the last one. Well, read on to find out. I am accepting OCs for the first few chapters so get them in as soon as possible. For those that had their OC in the last one, now is also your chance to resubmit. Same as before, fill out the form at the end of this chapter, please try to stick to what I'm asking for. I'm really looking forward to this one, got a lot of ideas for it, already know where I want to go but how it will all end, I can't say. With the other stories, I knew what I wanted to do for an ending. This one I'm not so sure. Guess we'll all find out in due time.

As of now, the only returning OCs are Charlotte "Charlie" White, Kyra McCloud, Bonnie Snyder, and Wolf Black. If you have an OC who was in Malicious Motives, this is practically your last chance to resubmit. Once submissions are closed, it will reflect in the summary. With all that serious stuff out of the way, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language

Coming Back to South Park

In a time when the economy was healthy and everything is a somewhat better place…

In the digital age, it was easier to get into contact with just about anybody, including people that you hadn't seen in years. It was a wondrous thing, the internet, that spontaneous deity that every once in a while broke off all signals and sent the planet into a mess of confusion and boredom.

But that wasn't what was being used today. As great as the internet was in all its glory, a much more basic form of communication was being used. The long black-haired, young woman who happened to be using this archaic form of speaking with other people happened to be a newly minted lawyer who had recently passed her bar exam.

In all the heady feelings that had come to her afterwards, Wendy Testaburger had noticed that nearly ten years had passed since the days where she was one of the highest scoring students in her high school. Ten years, wow. Time sure flew by when you were competing against the eat-or-be-eaten crowds in law school…

Of course, you know what this meant now. Due to receiving that all-important law license, Wendy, like anybody in her home town, felt the need to rub it in other people's faces. And since ten years had passed since she had last graced the halls of South Park High…

It was time for her ten year high school reunion.

And that brings us to the reason why she was using a phone of all things.

"Don't you think it would be great to get back together with everybody else, see what we've all been up to since we graduated?" Wendy asked into her eleventh generation iPhone, blue eyes seemingly staring into nothing though were actually glowing in reminiscence, fiddling with the old pink beret she used to wear when she was young. "Why do you think we need to wait three more years? Get back together for the thirteenth anniversary? Excuse me for saying this but what kind of an idiot schedules a high school reunion for the thirteenth anniversary? That sounds like something from an American Pie sequel. What do you mean it's not like an American Pie sequel?

"Just slow down, okay? I was just thinking that it's been some time since we last saw our classmates and wouldn't it be great to get back together with them? You know, to see how far we've all come?" And to show off that she had earned not only her law degree but her license! "No I'm not curious about what's become of my old boyfriend! I'm over Stan! Really! He's probably still hooked up with that Kyra girl. Anyway this is not about me! …much. This is about reestablishing the old ties we had back in those magical years of high school! Yeah, yeah, I know they weren't that magical for you but there literally was some magic happening back then…

"Uh huh. Uh huh. It can't be that hard! We're just organizing a get together between our old friends! We'll see if we can get it around a time when as many people as possible can come…as well as those we don't like won't be able to show up. Yeah, you know who I'm thinking about. We don't need any assholes showing up and showing off how well they're doing in front of everybody. That's just…in poor tastes.

"Hold on a sec, my phone's telling me someone just tweeted me. I have to check it out."

Pulling the eleventh generation iPhone from her ear while setting her childhood beret aside, moving a few locks of her dark hair as well, she put the person she was speaking to on hold while she checked up on her latest tweet. Clicking on a few icons, she brought the message up and…

…damn it, how did Eric Cartman keep finding her Twitter account? She swore, she was going to have to change over to Chirper, the other social media site that was practically identical to Twitter except that you could only use a picture of yourself for you visual identification and it had to be taken with a wide-angle lens while you were wearing a funny hat. Something like that.

"Sorry about that," Wendy said as she resumed her phone call, an irritated expression on her face that melted away as she picked her beret back up. "One of those assholes we were talking about Twittered me. Take a guess who it is. No, it wasn't…forget about it, we have more important things to work out, like where we should hold the reunion. Let's try to skip the Airport Hilton. After what happened there last time…yeah…

"Of course I'm still on speaking terms with Bebe! Whatever gave you the idea that we were…let me guess, someone Tweeted you and it came from some random Twitter account that more than likely belongs to a certain fatass bigot. Of course he wouldn't use anything too obvious for his handle! He'd probably use a name that made him look better than he really is. Anyway, if you're so worried, I'll call up Bebe and see what she's up to. Is that okay? Okay.

"Don't be worried! It's just a high school reunion! I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

The last job Kyle Broflovski ever thought he'd ever have would be involved with politics of all things. Well, surprise, surprise, politics was where he was working. Aide to the mayor of South Park of all places. Didn't seem a very lofty title but if you knew who the mayor was…

And before you ask, no, it wasn't McDaniels he was working under. She had had the fortune to finally get out of the Godforsaken town, i.e. had been elected to be a representative of their legislative district, and when that had happened, a certain someone decided to take advantage of it.

Once again, before you ask, Eric Cartman was not the mayor though he tried. Not even that sociopath could compete against a person who had millennia's worth of political knowledge and strategies at his fingertips. Kyle had only gotten involved in the first place because he had made a promise that if this person did run, he'd help him out.

Kyle hadn't expected him to win though. Mayor Achristos (he swore it was Latin), it had that…ah forget it. Kyle didn't know what word qualified to describe it and that was saying something since he had quite the extensive vocabulary. Yes, by the way, he had also asked why not just use Thorne instead?

The new mayor had replied that that was too obvious, lazy, and anyone who used it because of some fictional character from a movie instead of coming up with something original was…eh, unoriginal. Having a name that translated into "not Christ" was so much better, Kyle supposed, but that was Damien for you.

FYI, Damien hated that movie, The Omen. Maybe that had something to do with it.

Since Damien had won and Kyle had been so involved with the campaign, it seemed natural that he would become a part of the new administration. To be honest, he hadn't wanted to. The redhead had wanted to continue his studies, decide between medical school or law or something else that paid well, and go do that. Somehow Damien had suckered him into becoming an aide instead.

Before you ask how, Kyle was going to plead the fifth on that one. If anything, that was something that was none of your freaking business.

So here he was, walking into the lobby of City Hall which was currently going under some renovations. The scaffolding along the walls and the group of workmen taking a break made him frown at the sight but he said nothing about it. It was plain to see that the men were going to milk this project for however long they could. Personally, Kyle could have preferred working someplace else but Damien had been vehement that he continue working in the Mayor's Office.

Stubborn little…

Passing by a tall statue of the late Officer Barbrady dressed up in a Batman costume and taking a flight of stairs up the second floor, the young Jewish man headed for Damien's office, fully expecting that the Antichrist was in there hard at work. You could never really tell what would be going on in there and to be honest, Kyle didn't want to waste the time on what could be happening.

Straightening himself as he reached the door, he carefully touched the doorknob to make sure it wasn't super-hot again and when he felt cold metal, gripped it and turned it. Ah, everything looked normal in here, the American flag was not on fire again, and Mayor Damien was at his desk going over some documents.

That makes the total number of walking into normal happenings up to 48 but the weird ones were still in the lead at 63.

"Shut the door," Damien ordered without looking up, his deep, suave voice stressed.

Rolling his green eyes, Kyle obeyed though he didn't lock it behind him. Another personal thing, he liked his only exit to be opened in case shit went down and he needed a quick escape.

Turning away from the door, Kyle jumped and stumbled back as he found Damien barely a foot away, somehow getting from his desk and over here in…oh hell, why not just say he used his satanic powers again? It was much easier to point that out instead of saying he just appeared right behind him.

"Will you stop doing that?!" Kyle demanded as he clutched at his chest. "You're going to give a heart attack at this rate!"

Before he knew it, he was being pulled into a tight embrace, his hand trapped between their bodies as Damien pressed his face into Kyle's shoulder, his black hair brushing against the Jew's pale white skin.

"It's so boring!" Damien's deepened voice whined into his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me governing was a boring job?"

"Blame your father for the slow and painful way to bring about the apocalypse," Kyle snorted as he squirmed in Damien's hold. "And let go of me! You don't want any of your straight, Jesus-loving constituents catching you in a compromising situation like this! You do want to be President, right?"

"Not if it's this boring!" Damien whined. Then lifting his head up as an idea occurred to him, Kyle found dark brown eyes peering into his own and were those flashes of red? "I know something much more interesting that we can—"

"No," Kyle interrupted.

"Don't be a Debby Downer, Kyle," Damien suavely purred at him and the Jew squeaked as he felt a hand grope an asscheek. "It's like the cliché; I'm your boss and you're my secretary…"

"We did that on your first day and it was only a one time thing!" Kyle exclaimed as he began struggling against Damien's demonically enhanced strength. "And I'm not a secretary! I'm an aide!"

"Whatever makes you sleep at night," Damien teased.

"It's daylight and I'm not an exhibitionist!" Kyle stated as he managed to wriggle out of Damien's hold, beginning to straighten his tie that have been messed up due to his struggling. "And by the way, that is not appropriate in the work place! We shouldn't even be…!"

"Now you're being a Negative Nancy," Damien admonished, his deepened voice rising just a little. "Come. Take a seat and relax, my little aide."

"Only if you're going to be doing some damn work!" Kyle retorted.

"But it's all about referendums and amendments and bills," Damien moaned as he trudged back to his seat, his posture the same as a prisoner being dragged off to receive a lethal injection. "And it's so lame! I'm just approving things that are going to be put to a vote by the village idiots."

"Those village idiots are not only your constituents, they take their voting seriously," Kyle said. "I know one family that votes to decide if they want to have a vote. They're very dedicated to their constitutional rights, you know."

"I am so glad that this will all be over when I cause World War III," Damien muttered.

"That's another thing you shouldn't say out loud," Kyle added.

"Ooh, my words are going to be misconstrued if I say them out loud," Damien gasped mockingly.

"How can you misconstrue what you just said?" Kyle frowned before giving up. "Whatever, what are you working on now?"

"The retailer store Scope wants to build just outside of town but wants us to foot the water instead of the local aquifer," Damien intoned dully. "Also wants us to pay for installing the underground pipes."

"Or they're not going to build, huh?" Kyle concluded. "What do you want to do?"

"Tell them to go fuck themselves—you know what, why should I be fucking doing this?" Damien complained, glaring down at the top of his desk. Then rubbing at his eyes, "And why do I have to wear these Hell-forsaken contact lens!"

Pulling one out, the shorter Jew got a glimpse of a naturally red-colored eye before it was shut as the other lens was being hastily taken out.

"Red eyes freak out other people unless you're an albino," Kyle stated dully. "They'd think you were some kind of devil."

"I am a devil!" Damien growled, voice cracking slightly for a second.

"Hey, it's your job to fulfill whatever prophesy has been laid out for you," Kyle said. "No one ever said bringing the end of the world was going to be fun. It's not like one day you're going to break open the earth and unleash Hell onto the world. Or summon up some kind of demonic army. Or have some final battle with the coming of the Messiah that'll decide the fate of the world."

"It would have been neat," Damien pouted as he crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

"Your father agrees with the biblical scholars," Kyle shrugged. "It's the charismatic person who rises to a position of power that's going to do it."

"Fucking scholars; like they know what the Book of Revelations is about," Damien grumbled. Pausing a second, he added, "Don't you mean the second coming of the Messiah?"

"Jewish; don't believe Jesus was the Messiah," Kyle explained.

"Lucky," Damien commented.

"Whatever, so what are you going to do about Scope?" Kyle asked, trying to get back to business. "A new retail store in this area would provide some more jobs to the locals…"

"I thought you liked supporting Main Street," Damien teased.

"Well…well times have changed!" Kyle defended.

"Shush," Damien shushed him, a sharp fang peeking out on one side of his mouth. "I won't tell anyone about your about-face if you won't…"

"Stop trying to change the subject," Kyle demanded. "I swear, you're like a child!"

"A two hundred year childhood would do that to you," Damien admitted.

"There you go again—really, two hundred years?" Kyle stopped what he was saying as something the other said caught his attention. "Michael Jackson would be jealous."

Damien smirk but as he began to open his mouth to say something…

"You're going off track again!" Kyle snapped, glaring at him. Dear Moses, it was like he was working with a little kid! "Approve the damn thing, veto it, or set it to the damn side, just make a decision already!"

"Alright, fine, I'll put it to a side," Damien rolled his eyes before letting out a cough. "Damn it!" he swore, his voice suddenly rising an octave. "Using Christian Bale's Batman voice is killer on my throat!"

Kyle didn't have the heart to tell him that his "Batman" voice made him sound like a normal, everyday person and not a certain crime-fighting vigilante. "At least you managed to last, what, ten minutes this time? If you can last thirty minutes, you'll be good for whatever speeches you may have to make in the future."

"Fucking job," Damien cursed in his real voice which was naturally high pitched. "Why couldn't I be genetically blessed with a deep voice like my father?"

"You are who you are," Kyle shrugged. "So what's next on the agenda?"

"Another protest permit," Damien answered dully, signing off on it immediately. "Death certificate, death certificate, permit for a new gas station…" Each one he signed off on, pausing on the last one for a second before signing off on it.

Watching the changing pace, Kyle shook his head and sighed. Was this guy really up to fulfilling this purpose, this destiny of his?

Was he?

South Park had certainly changed over the few years yet at the same time it had barely changed. Things were different but at the same time you wouldn't be able to tell with your first look. A person like Gary Harrison, who had lived here for quite a few years, would be able to tell you what had changed and what hadn't changed over the past ten years since his high school graduation.

A handful of his old classmates had managed to leave this town but like with most towns, a lot had failed in that endeavor. Either they left but couldn't make it and had to come back or they never left in the first place. Thanks to that nearby community college, not everyone who stayed in town were deprived of higher education. In fact, Gary was a graduate of said community college. Degree in education and everything. Had a job as the physical education instructor for the high school and taught American history on the side like most gym coaches did. Naturally, when it came a certain period in time, he always made an effort to inform his students about the founding of the Church of Latter Day Saints and even got to invite a few over for dinner.

And he was very content with that. He wasn't a hard person to please in any way and while this wasn't some very lucrative financial position he was in, it didn't take much for him to find some kind of comfort in this life. After graduation, he had taken two years off for his church-ordained missionary position and had traveled into the middle of Africa. There he had met up with a couple of other missionaries who were trying to make a difference in that poverty-stricken land while engaging against an antagonistic warlord.

The Book of Arnold was a very intriguing addition to the Book of Mormon as he knew it. Every month or so he found himself rereading that portion of the Book and pondering how Elder Arnold Cunningham had come to be so enlightened.

Enough with his metaphysical musings, he told himself as he scratched the back of his blond-haired head, the cool mountain enveloping him as he strolled down the sidewalks of the town on his daily walk. After he had come back from Africa, he was two years out of his academic career and had enrolled in that community college as soon as he had heard about it. Two years later he had a degree and was being hired by the South Park Independent School District.

Kyra McCloud, his best friend in the whole world, had had different fortunes than him. She had been one of those that had left the town but had ultimately come back after a few years. When she had left to go off to college, miraculously going to the University of Colorado in Denver along with her then boyfriend Stan Marsh, she had been completely excited and Gary had nothing but the best hopes for her. Four years later, she came back into town and had gotten work as a store clerk at a video game store.

There had also been a noticeable lack of Stan and that was a subject she had really been mum about. The best that Gary could get out of her was that their interests had split or something to that effect. That and he heard that Stan had last been heading towards New York City. A year after that and the slow economy they had been going through abruptly did a one-eighty. Perhaps they had had some disagreement? A fight maybe?

Well, currently, Kyra was now the manager of the very store she had once clerked in. Only recently she had started getting letters from Nintendo of all places with offers for positions in their game development branches. At the moment, Kyra was undecided though Gary could tell that she was leaning more towards taking the offer. Beneath it all, Kyra was a hardcore gamer and what gamer would turn down the opportunity to make the next generation of video games?

All he had told her was that she should follow what felt right and do what she wanted to do. He'd be okay back here in South Park and she knew where he lived. She was always welcomed to drop by.

Stopping at the local Harbucks and getting his regular latte, a certain plumber around here declaring it "gay," Gary resumed his walk, this time warmed up with a cup of hot, milky java. Now let's see, where was he? Ah yes…

The local mechanic had retired recently but fortunately his position had been taken up by Kenny McCormick. Gary didn't know how but somehow, Kenny just seemed to fit there. He was usually dirty, overcharged unless you were a regular, and he always had a perverse comment for the opposite sex. Usually it was an invite to come back to his place and the rest was censored because Gary didn't think that kind of language was appropriate.

As you could tell, Gary didn't spend a lot of time at the mechanic's.

Up ahead he noticed City Hall and he took a sip of his latte to hide the curving of his lips. Yep, they had a new mayor and yes, Gary had voted for him. The alternative choice hadn't been…stellar. Yes, stellar would have to be the word used there. It hadn't taken Gary long to figure out that when it came to politics and elections, the choices you had was usually between two devils and you had to decide which was the lesser of the two. Or to put it in a simpler way, it was between a giant douche and a turd sandwich. Gary had voted for the giant douche.

At least with the giant douche, Kyle Broflovski was there to keep him in line. Hopefully.

He paused in his step, frowning slightly at the pure white feather that fluttered before him. He watched it as the slight wind played with it for a moment before whisking it away. He had been seeing feathers just show up out of nowhere for a while and usually randomly. Ever since senior year…

Eh, probably didn't mean anything and was just some mild distraction. Onward then!

Gary paused again in his step as something else caught his eye. Watching a nearby alley closely, he saw someone emerge from what seemed to be a nondescript door holding a package that was wrapped in brown wrapping paper and looking pleased with themselves. The person was also muttering to themselves, talking about how great a deal they had just got.

Ah, now he saw. Another satisfied customer of the Black Market. Gary had never had reason to go there himself despite all the deals he heard you could get there. Something about it…well, it just made him want to physically move away from it. Where this sense of discomfort came from, Gary did not know but he was inclined to agree with it and continue on his way.

And so off he was. His direction took him passed City Hall where oddly enough, the same discomfort he felt from the Black Market popped up again. He sped up his step, shaking it off. He had better things to do than get off feelings about things in town. So what was he thinking about before? Oh yeah, Kyle.

The member of the other religious minority in this town had a good head on his shoulders, never lost that trait. Every once in a while, he'd get a call from him, usually to talk…or was it shoot…the breeze and maybe there was some complaining on Kyle's end but Gary was always receptive. Nothing made him feel good than helping other people through their problems. Most of Kyle's problems stemmed from a certain Mayor and resident obese Anti-Semitic and Gary listened to each complaint with patience and care.

With the complaints about the mayor, the Mormon always sensed there was some kind of fondness in Kyle's words though the Jewish man would deny it with his dying breath. Sometimes, Gary had the sense that Kyle didn't know if he was coming or going. Don't ask him why he thought that, he just did.

Outside of Kyra, Kyle, every once in a while Kenny, Gary didn't really have much to do with the people who had been his peers back in school. There were still a few others in town, like he saw Craig Tucker a few times and once Token Black but that had been during the holidays. Gary supposed that he sort of lost touch with the rest of them. But that was okay, they were all finding their places in this world. Perhaps they'd meet up at a high school reunion or something.

There had been some changes here and there, new people moving in, some of them coming along with those who had tried to leave but had to come back. Others came by themselves to try and either escape the fast pace of the city or they wanted to start somewhere new and South Park just happened to be the place they chose.

Not that these new folk always stayed. While the world around them changed, the one thing that hadn't changed about this town was the unusual events and incidents that occurred. Alien invasions, celebrity invasions, once a foreign invasion by some Neo Nazis who he had managed to invite over to dinner and convert (he buffed his fingernails against his jacket and blew on them at this point), and there was even a viral invasion, whatever that was. It was same old, same old here.

The only thing they hadn't been invaded by in the past ten years was Hell!

Without warning, a harsh sneeze escaped him. Eyes squinted closed for a second, he cracked them open and saw another pure white feather fluttering in front of him. Huh, wonder where that one had come from?

Just another odd occurrence, nothing to worry about.

But just in case he was coming down with something, he better get back home. No sense taking any chances with his health. No need to be unwell come Monday when he needed to go back to work.

Author's Note: A bit of a change in the OC submission form. For once, the category "Crush" does mean pairing. Potentially. Because this story is ten years removed from Malicious Motives, not every OC is going to be a South Park native. Also, the Successful Job and Unsuccessful Job parts, that what job your OC would have if they were a success in life or not a success. The Heaven and Hell sections, be sure to give a reason why they would choose either side. I've hinted at what's to come in this chapter so these parts are important in the long run. That's pretty much it.

OC Submission

Name:

Gender:

Appearance:

Clothing:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Friends:

Enemies:

Crush:

Basic History:

Successful Job/Occupation:

Unsuccessful Job/Occupation:

Which side would they choose and why?

Heaven:

Hell:

What they would sell their soul for:

Place of Origin not South Park: