It was a gentle type of snow fall, filtering through the air like beautiful flakes of glittering shapes, soft and ever so lovely. A wispy fog danced with the wind, nipping lightly at tender flesh unguarded by the protective material of heavy coats. From the mist stepped a petite figure with pale blonde hair uncared for and straggly, his eyes shimmered through the blurry atmosphere and locked upon one single establishment. She calls me Butters, thought the grinning adolescent. So that's what I'll go by. He pushed through the doors to Hooters and was instantly warmed by their heater.

Girls giggled as they happened past, balancing trays filled with varieties of desired foods and beverages as they put extra bounces in their steps to ensure nobody ignored their straining bosoms. A perky blonde with heavy fake lashes beamed at him from her podium, stacking together menus and shoving them away. "Hey Leopold," she greeted with a naturally chipper attitude. "You looking for Lexus? Don't worry, she's in today. You want me to seat you in her section?"

"No," Butters raised a hand up to still her actions as he went by. "I think I'll seat myself."

He scoured his settings for a certain redhead in the vicinity, soon locating her figure bent over a table full of panting teenage boys hungrily staring down her generous cleavage. Craig Tucker was part of the circle, pulling close the blushing waitress and whispering in her what could only most likely be vulgar filth. Butters flexed his fingers, watching the yellow course of electricity dance along the length of them before making an uncharacteristically confident approach to the table.

Craig flicked a pair of dark blue eyes towards the intrusive profile, pushing Lexus from his personal space and standing up from his chair. "Hey Puff-Puff," greeted the dark haired adolescent, stepping around the girl to reach the item of his cruel entertainment. "What brings you to Hooters again? I thought we had an agreement about Lexus."

"I never made those agreements," Butters dismissed in an easing voice thick with condescension. "Besides, I came here thinking we might be able to discuss those terms again. If you're willing to, that is." They came face to face, neither backed down from the other, unwilling to fear a future consequence. Craig was especially gleeful over the sproutings of a possible scruff.

"You sure about that, Leopold?" He cracked both rows of his knuckles, a sickening crunch came from the act and would've otherwise caused Butters to cringe. Luckily, the blonde was intent on not revealing any weaknesses. He grinned instead.

"Give it your best shot," Butters invited. Craig moved like a blur, he threw his fist forward with clear aim of his pearl white teeth. However, Butters caught the impact in the center of his hand with remarkably lazy effort. Craig's eyebrows raised slowly in evident surprise, it was a moment which Butters relished deeply, then the boy in unexpected offense squeezed the captive fist. There was a brief spark as his fingers broke and Craig wailed out in hideous agony, he fell on to one knee while Lexus screeched in terror.

Three hulking men came approaching in long strides, intending to break up the fight. Butters lifted his arms around himself and an electric orb of sorts surrounded him under command, one of the security men reached out to grapple him and, in response, his thick fingers were struck with energy. The long digits were charred down to the knuckles and the unsuspecting man backpedalled with a surprised shout until he tripped over a bar stool and fell backwards.

Having served its purpose, the shield evaporated and left Butters wide open, not to say he minded much. The crackle of a tazer threatened to take him down from his right, Butters turned swiftly and caught the wrist wielding it just before it touched his awaiting flesh. He yanked the man forward and delivered a well placed headbutt into your his forehead. He went down like a light, the boy chuckled in delight at the sudden increase of strength he seemed to possess. Spinning, he acknowledged the final guard rushing forward and caught him by his broad shoulders, turning them around and slamming his face against the bar behind them. Butters pinned him there, the waitresses all shrieked in horror while the customers backed away from the display. It was glorious, never had he been in so much power.

He was about to proceed into knocking his victim unconscious, but the blare of the tiny television overhead stole away his immediate attention. A woman was speaking of current events, the line underneath her asked an interesting question; Superheroes in the town of South Park? He peered forward to give his full attention on the matter, hardly struggling to keep the man beneath him kept perfectly in place despite his frustrated jerks of anger.

"Last night, four young teenagers with strange powers and colorful desires following that of comic book superheroes stopped crime right in it's tracks. South Park's own Russian Mafia has never been caught before, but thanks to the potential of Coon and Friends, as they call themselves, the police now have three criminals brought in for questioning."

Replacing the image on television came three black and white mugshots of men glaring into the camera, clutched in front of them were numbers that meant absolutely nothing to Butters. Still, he was highly impressed with such a turn out for boys within his own age group, the woman's face returned onscreen.

"The four boys all go by names we managed to receive during the bust; Toolshed, The Human Kite, Mysterion, and- the probable leader of this organization- The Coon." Photos of the heroes appeared behind her fluffed blonde hair each time she named one off, each one unclear but not so much that Butters couldn't identify prominent assets regarding them.

Interesting, so he wasn't the only freak in town. Considerably, Butters could do the things that those other boys were and bring justice to South Park every night while wearing kickass clothing; enjoy the constant risk of his life. But then, what the hell did he owe to this white-trash hick town? If anything, this place was owed solely to him. Just like the world, just like the universe, it was his deserving trophy for all the crap he had been forced to undergo. And this power he had, this gift bestowed upon him from Heaven above, it was there precisely so he could take what was rightfully his property.

He would need some cash...

§

Coon and Friends. Kyle still hadn't gotten over the ridiculous name of their newfound team, the basic brand Cartman had burned against their flesh like belongings with him as the obvious leader. He was sour over it mostly because now that was how the public would view them, Cartman wouldn't change the title while that could stand as his argument. Rather than stew over this loss however (it was easier to do than think of the way his first evening as a superhero had gone), he was currently on his way someplace that would certainly make up for his bad temper.

Rebecca's window was just above him, or so he was wagering. The last window he had hurled a pebble towards emitted a young lad, her brother the redhead assumed, peering outdoors for the bothersome source. Kyle had dived for a group of bushes just before he had been located by an irritated gaze. He bent down to possess a spare pebble and flung it lightly, watching as it gently clicked against the stainless glass and descended back to earth. He waited impatiently for awhile, tapping his foot while expecting a response. When one didn't present itself, he bent down to pick up another rock and pulled back his arm to throw it once more. That is, until he heard a voice speak just beside his ear so suddenly.

"Hello K-Kyle."

The boy spun in surprise and Rebecca jerked backwards almost instantly from the extremely close precision their faces had been in. Her cheeks flushed with crimson coloring and she twiddled her fingers in her lap, Kyle grinned slowly in adoration. "S-sorry," she whispered in a hushed voice. "I didn't m-mean to s-scare you or anything. My b-brother talked about how someone had thrown a rock at his window. I-I simply came to investigate." Her eyes lifted towards the shining emeralds gazing down upon her, the unnatural vibrancy of their quality had returned last night after the worn boy had peeled off his costume. "W-what are you doing here?"

"You," Kyle exhaled, then his own version of a flush stained his flesh and he cleared his throat awkwardly to make up for it. "I just wanted to see you, if that's okay. Are you free right now?"

"A-are you?" Rebecca returned, a questioning brow arched. "It's a school day, it seems to early to have let out already." Timidly, she reached out her arm with heavy reluctance and extended her hand.

Kyle blinked at the gesture, momentarily surprised by it. Then he smiled once again, this time broader than before, and slid his fingers through hers. She tensed for a moment at the newfound contact, but the tiny turn up of her lips caused her assets to utterly glow. Kyle fell into a daze simply looking at her and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. "I'm not missing anything," he promised. Rebecca ended up leading him into the backyard, a garden of impressive standards blossomed to life in a variety of gorgeous coloring and surrounded a cement bench just in the center of it all. They both settled upon it, she turned attention towards the bloom of nature.

"Strange boy," she accused of him. "I-ignoring your important education j-just to come and sit with a girl. V-very strange indeed. I'll never understand it."

Kyle looked at her, quiet. A gentle breeze pushed aside her ruffle of curls like fingers affectionately coursing through them, a stray blue petal floated by delicately and landed gently against her shoulder. It was overwhelming and exciting, but Kyle felt an urge to brush it aside with his lips. Rebecca must've felt him staring, her eyes glanced briefly to him before dropping bashfully to her feet, thin lashes towards her high cheekbones; the most lovely specimen he had ever known to exist. God, he thought as his heart trembled in his chest. He leaned towards her.

"Let me kiss you," he said without necessary second thought and her gaze snapped up in shock to meet his. "Please," he quickly added, feeling an unhealthy dosage of ridiculousness, how poetic of him. "Can I please kiss you?"

Rebecca's eyes were wide saucers of unexpected shock, she swallowed heavily and sent a timid glance towards his lips. Her body turned his way and he straightened at once, the scent of her washed over him and he suppressed the threat of a shudder down his spine, her brows knitted together in fear. "I-I've never kissed anyone before," she whispered, the stain of a blush prominent against her cheeks. She leaned in closer.

Kyle exhaled slowly, ducking his head down so that his face was right before hers, the tips of their noses brushed together just slightly. "Me neither," he answered, embarrassed by this honesty. "Theoretically speaking, this probably won't be an especially good experience. But... I still wanna kiss you."

Her eyes slipped shut and she tilted her head up to him, inviting him to dare close the distance between them. His heart was rocketing in his chest, painfully so, the clench in his stomach threatened him with nausea and his pulse was quick enough to make him dizzy. With all the timid grace of uncharacteristic shyness, he eliminated the tiny space keeping them apart and touched his mouth gently to hers. They both went tense the moment contact was made, a zip of electricity ablazed through his veins and the urge for more made him ache internally. He strengthened the pressure of the kiss, momentarily, then peeled away from her entirely. They stared at one another, silent and disbelieving over the circumstances of what just happened between them. Then, surprisingly enough, Rebecca leaned forward and kissed him again.

His eyes closed automatically, he tentatively parted their lips and couldn't stop the shiver which followed. Kyle could taste her, delightful and different from any experience he'd ever been through. His arms wrapped themselves around her back and he pressed them together, but close was not close enough and he couldn't stand it. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't come up with a reason good enough to possibly cease his actions. Their lips weren't quite in sync, they were clumsy and without skill, but it still felt incredible. The need for oxygen made their lungs burned and they broke apart with a gasp, their eyes remained blissfully closed while their foreheads pressed together. They shared the same air, the same breaths, their hearts slammed together as though they had just completed a marathon.

"Oh," Rebecca marvelled on a sigh, she rubbed her nose affectionately against his."Th-that's what it's like. I understand w-why people like it s-so much." She curled her short fingers into his thick jacket, Kyle felt a sense of flattery that he had managed to put her in such a daze.

Smiling, he planted a chaste kiss over both corners of her mouth and pulled back slightly to look at her. She was flushed, her lips were swollen and Kyle winced regrettably, he brushed his thumb over the delicate pink flesh and laughed nervously. "Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to kiss you so hard."

"D-don't say things like that," she responded in a voice like silk, gazing at him through her lashes. "You might not do it again otherwise."

Kyle resisted the need to frown, his fingertips traced lightly down her throat, across the protruding bone of her collar, and his vibrant irises focused on the progress as though entranced. Girls like Rebecca were special, darling and magical, and now he could call her his own. This was the first time he had ever been with someone like this, and if he could drown in this moment he would. He would stay here in his haze with someone who fascinated him beyond colorful chemicals and unanswered mysteries of life, and he'd be perfectly content.

But freaks were not offered forever happiness. If Rebecca knew the truth to the monster she gripped tight, would she still clutch him?

§

Cartman awoke from his slumber in a heavy sweat, not at all abrupt and sudden. Instead, he blinked through the darkness and pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. His curtains billowed with the sweet caress of a breeze, the clock on his bedside table flashed crimson digital numbers 4:09 AM. A nightmare had shaken him from his peace, a tremor still lingered in his palms and he breathed slowly to recompose his calm.

Gunshots had echoed throughout his cruel dreams, he remembered them more so than even the pictures and haunted him in the solid quiet. When he had come home the other night from his succession with the newly gathered Coon And Friends, he had rushed to the bathroom and scrubbed the flat surface of his hands until they glowed raw. Even then, he hadn't managed to erase the stench of gunmetal from tormenting him. He had worked overtime in the battle not to show the disdain which followed holding a pistol, pointing it towards the criminal with the intent to pull the trigger if necessary. Would he have been capable of handling it? Firing the same thing that had blown out his father's eye socket? Would he have been able to endure the kick of the gun, the backward rock of his heels, the deafening explosion which followed the release of an unforgiving bullet?

How could something so tiny hold so much devastating power anyway?

Knowing he wouldn't return to rest, Cartman slipped from the embrace of his blankets and stood on the polished wood of his floors. As he shuffled towards his door, he retrieved a robe from a standing coat rack and slid his arms through the warm sleeves, then turned the knob and ventured towards the staircase. The mansion was void of any sound, meaning his mother had managed to fall prey to exhaustion sometime ago. Either that or she wasn't even home, instead making the bedsprings of someone else's mattress cry with strain; if she wasn't sobbing in her room for someone to adore her like her husband once had, she was giving it up to the next pair of eyes to scan her up and down.

Cartman entered his kitchen and flicked on the switch, yellow light flooded the area and rendered him momentarily blind. The light sound of a feline caused his eyes to swing towards the source, a scruffy gray cat sat upon the countertop with many papers gathered beneath it's rump and a tail wrapped around her tiny paws. She peered curiously towards the boy, nose twitching as she scented the air. Mr. Kitty was her name, a long standing member of the Cartman family since Eric was only a boy. She was the only reason the brunette was at all soft towards her species, though he never let anyone see him behave loving towards her. Cartman scratched in greeting under her chin and she purred her approval.

Gently, he pushed her from the piles of papers and reviewed them in question. It was nothing mail, news and ads that must've been brought in from the mailbox earlier yesterday, Cartman gathered them together with the intentions of disposing them into the trash when a purple envelope slipped from the mess. Cartman shoved aside the useless garbage and lifted the individual piece of mail, squinting just before he tore it open. From it, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper, clean and soft. Cartman undid it, a message was written there in black cursive for him to address:

You have been cordially invited to appear at the exclusive Williams's "Celebration for the Greatly Fortunate." Token asks that you put on your most fanciful attire and join together with your specially blessed comrades in the entertainment following wine drinking, fine music, and socialization with-

Cartman crumpled up the letter and furiously threw it aside. You really had to be a cocky bastard to have a party once a year where only the rich kids were invited. Cartman grabbed the discarded envelope and shook it upside down until a decorated invitation came floating out and landed on the counter surface. Asshole, he snatched it up and tore apart it's essence, letting the worthless pieces flutter towards the floor all together, to which Mr. Kitty immediately dived from the edge of the counter and toyed with them joyously.

Cartman sat at his table, his thick fingers coursed through his tresses and he exhaled. The quiet was much worse than sound, his pulse was erratic with a suffocating fear. When he shut his eyes, he could hear the chamber of a gun click shut. It cocked his way, God it's not real. Let it go!

Cartman breathed in.

Bang.

A/N: I can't wait till this story ends, I've got so many ideas for the next one! No worries, this story has a well thought up ending too and all. I hope you're all enjoying so far! Thank you for reading!