LOLOL LIKE OUR NAME. Anyway, this is a joint account between Courtanie and Cliscia. Enjoy our shitty first chapter, which Ami/Cliscia wrote, lololol. It gets better. Courtanie will write the next chapter, obviously.

"It's okay, it'll get better." Kyle smiled, and patted Stan's leg. Stan winced, and smiled through gritted teeth.

"Y-Yeah, it'll get better alright, once you get your hand off my leg and give me time to let it heal."

Kyle's eyes widened and he jerked his hand back like Stan's broken leg was made from fire. He chuckled nervously, and rubbed the back of his head. It was true. Stan was bedridden, and had been for a while. But it certainly wasn't Kyle's fault. No, not Kyle, or Cartman, or the deceased Kenny, who had been killed by Professor Chaos. Professor Chaos… The name hit close to home. And close to Kyle himself, in the form of Stan, who lay grimacing beside him.

Poor Stan. But it wasn't just Stan. It was everyone, including himself. Professor Chaos had ruined everyone's lives, not just Stan's. It had been years ago, but none of them had seen the warning signs before it was too late. Professor Chaos had started out small, trying to flood the world with a garden hose, things like that. At first people had laughed. But no one was laughing now.

If one thing was true, it was true that no one was laughing. Professor Chaos had again appeared on a baseball stadium screen, his face familiar to the crowd when he had been younger, naïve. But this time, there was a severe difference. Not only was he older, but his threats had grown bigger. Worse. Unimaginable. And they started with one person.

One person. Kenny.

Before the stadium, on the huge HD screen, Professor Chaos was there. His smile was huge, but it wasn't a smile at all. It was far too sinister, too dark, too- malicious. And in his arms was a bound and blindfolded young man. Far too young for what would become of him.

"Hello," the blonde had said to the world, to that single stadium, "you won't ever forget about me again. No longer will I be ignored and tormented. You'll see who you're dealing with now."

With a knife, a single knife, Professor Chaos had started his reign of terror as he slowly and purposefully slit the throat of an innocent boy before the crowd. And, he had assured them, more would come.

And they did.

With Kenny's initial death, more had followed. And this time, for some reason, Kenny didn't come back. No one came back. Perhaps it was the kind of knife that Professor Chaos used, just as a wearwolf could only be killed with bullets made of silver. But for whatever reason, he was dead, and remained dead, with the hundreds that followed. The following day, it was as if everything Kyle had known changed permanently.

Over the years, Professor Chaos had seemed to have gained incredible mechanical power. But in South Park, anything was possible. He had installed cameras all over the city, could see everything, although nobody knew it, but could guess. Cameras to watch. To seek his next victim. And to track everyone's movements so no one could leave. Because that would spoil all of Professor Chaos's plans, right? For people to run, screaming, away? They could hide but never, never could they run.

Life was hell. Pure hell. The police force did nothing, could do nothing, since Officer Barbrady was, well-, and no one in their right mind would travel to South Park. And no one left, either. There was no connection to the outside world, Professor Chaos had even cut the telephone wires. The roads were demolished. And eventually, a wall had been built, none of this ever noted by the outside world. No one came. No one left. Trapped. They were trapped, under a reign of fear. Of Chaos. The monster had chosen his name wisely, for no one truly knew who he was. It made the fear greater. Your neighbor could be your murderer the next day.

It was sheer terror, every moment. No one knew if they would be alive one day, or dead the next. Life did not go as planned. The mundane was missed. And nights were the worse, when Professor Chaos would storm the streets, clutching his head and moaning, cursing, from what, no one knew. They could all hear him. It was a small town, after all. And when his head hurt was when he did the most damage. Because Professor Chaos never came out during the day. During the day, they were free. But at night-

No one had thought of running at the beginning. Everyone had assumed that the police would deal with it, or the SWAT team, or something along those lines. But the police were quickly conquered, and the government was fed up with the trouble that came from South Park, Colorado. And by the time that they had realized that Professor Chaos was a legitimate threat, the wall had already been constructed. Over night. Within sheer hours. A genius, he had to have been a genius.

Everything seemed hopeless. Until one night, when the moaning stopped, replaced with screams and shrieks of anger. The next morning, South Park's citizens were surprised to find that their families were all intact, that no one had been killed, and Professor Chaos had left nothing burning and in rubble. It continued like that. Night after night of seeming normality. But Kyle saw. Kyle saw what he knew he shouldn't have.


It was his fault for being out. No one in their right mind left the house later then seven at night, unless they had a death wish. But it was Shabbat, and he desperately needed to visit his Synagogue to offer his part for Oneg. It wasn't safe, not safe at all, and Kyle's heart had pounded in his chest. What if Professor Chaos came back? What if- But 'what if' became reality when he heard the voice that made his blood run cold.

Professor Chaos was nearbye, grunting, as if hurt, and suddenly screamed, and a resounding voice echoed back. Someone- someone else was out at night? At first he had thought they were being murdered, as it was the only thing he could think of, but as fear kept him frozen, he suddenly realized what he was listening to. A fight. His eyes had widened, and due to his nature, he couldn't help but creep along the alley until he witnessed what he had heard.

It was indeed a fight. But it wasn't nearly as onesided as he had thought. There was a stranger, holding his own, against Professor Chaos. They wrestled together, and Kyle watched as the blonde withdrew a knife. His breath had caught in his throat. Desperately, more then anything, he wanted Professor Chaos to lose. But the stranger had nothing equipped on him, and he gasped as he watched him be stabbed. Over and over. It was hopeless, just like their town.

But at the last minute, the tide had turned and Mysterion lept up, grabbed the knife, and stabbed it into the back of Professor Chaos's arm. They struggled for a moment longer, both gushing blood, before Mysterion (Kyle remembered the costume from his childhood) knocked Professor Chaos to the ground. The blonde struggled, growled, and glared up at him before kicking his leg out, Mysterion falling with him. Ignoring the knife as it clanged to the cement, Professor Chaos turned and ran, limping, and clutching both his arm and pride.

Kyle had turned, looking for something to help the still fallen Mysterion, some sort of tourniquet, but the second he had looked back, he had been gone.

It had been two weeks, now, and Professor Chaos had still not returned, nor Mysterion. Life had seemed to go back to normal, at least, Kyle hoped, for a while. Now, the only thing there was to fear, was each day's visit to the hospital, where his boyfriend, Stan, lay. Every day he visited him. And everyday it became more forced. Stan, with his leg broken. Stan, with the wounds to his side. He had fallen down the stairs when Shelley tripped him, and landed on a pile of Christmas decorations. As luck had it, Rudolph's antlers promptly stabbed right through him, and here he lay, helpless.

Stan smiled with every visit, accepted his flowers, and his kisses became warmer with each passing day. But for Kyle, it- it wasn't the same. He wasn't the one bedridden. He wasn't the one who was receiving visits. Instead, he was the one who was able to go out, to go see movies, to go to nice restaurants, to go dancing, but couldn't, because his boyfriend was still hospitalized. For Stan, it was nice to relax. But for Kyle, the relationship was strained. He needed someone alive, someone to go places with.

And Stan's wounds weren't looking good. His bones were fractured in other places, as well. The doctors said it would last much longer then just two weeks for him to recover. Kyle didn't know if he could wait that long.

"Well," Stan spoke, stretching, after a while of content silence, "I'll guess I'll see you tomorrow, then. There's a big game on in half an hour, and I don't want to miss it. Unless, you want to watch it with me? But you said you had homework to do, and I wouldn't want to keep you from that."

"Y-Yeah." Kyle stuttered nervously. At least he wouldn't have to make an excuse to leave. "I just hope WE can play basketball together again, soon, and not just watch it."

"Naw, sure we will." Stan flashed his winning smile. He was so handsome and kind. Kyle felt bad for thinking such horrible things. "But for now," he glanced down at his broken leg and angle (and wrist and ribs and-) "doctor says I have to keep it easy."

"Right, right." And Kyle leaned over for a kiss, which Stan gave happily, pecking him on the side of his lips again when he drew away.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Kyle shouted, and the door clicked shut when he glanced back to Stan's wave.

Kyle exhaled, sighing. It was true, he had homework to do. Second year of college was going well; he was an A student. This next biology test… should he study pages 46-98 or the chapter about the nervous system first? Or should he look over his flash cards, or-

"Kyle!" A familiar voice shouted out to him, and Kyle looked up. "Boy, howdy, I didn't think I'd see you here!"


"Hey, Butters." His voice was less then enthusiastic. Enthusiastic like Butters was, as he ran towards him. "I didn't think I'd see you here, either."

"Y-Yeah." Butters smiled, and stuttered like he always did. "Me either. I just had to come in for a check up. They sure are rotten."

It was then that Kyle noticed his broken arm, and crutch. How he ran with a crutch, Kyle would never know. But Butters looked happy, so Kyle didn't inquire on how it happened. No need to remind him about it.

"So why are you here, Kyle?" Another smile. Not like Stan's. Not handsome like Stan's. No, a true smile. Glowing. Butters was always radiant.

Kyle shifted from foot to foot. "Shelley pushed Stan down the stairs and he landed on some Christmas ornaments. His sister broke his leg, that bitch."

Butters paused, and something seemed to register in his mind. But it was over quickly, and he resumed his cheerful mood.

"A-Aw, shucks, you shouldn't say things like that. Besides, Stan will be alright, he is an athlete after all, wh-why, he'll be up and running in no time!"

"Yeah, you know, that's true." His sour mood started to look up, and Kyle smiled at Butters, who in return, did the same yet again.

"Well hey, I gotta go, though, it sure was nice talking to you, Kyle. Maybe we could hang out some time, I got a neat ol'-"

"Sure Butters, that would be great." Kyle cut him off, not truly wanting to spend time with Butters. Frankly, he could be a little too optimistic and energetic at sometimes.

"Okay, okay, give me your cell phone, I'll give you my number!" Butters exclaimed happily, and shifted on his crutch. Kyle smiled nervously, caught in his lie, but handed his phone to Butters anyway. It wasn't as if he'd actually call him, it was just the polite thing to do.

Butters handed Kyle his phone back, which the redhead pocketed quickly, as if it would be taken from him again. "I'll see you around then, Kyle."

Butters was slower to leave then he had reaching him. He puttered around the hallway for a while, looking into different rooms, but finally left, and Kyle was left alone again.

Alone. No Stan. No Kenny. No Cartma- Scratch that. Kyle was alone, and he'd just have to deal with it. His cell phone felt heavy with guilt inside his pocket.

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