Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to South Park or Doctor Who. And to paraphrase South Park: All characters and events in this story- even those based on real people- are entirely [fan] fictional.
Warning: South Park-level vulgarity. I figured the best rating was T, but if you think otherwise, feel free to let me know. Not trying to offend.
AN: First attempt at writing Fan Fiction.I like to fancy myself as a writer, but have been busy pursuing other things lately, and haven't had a chance to explore that. This is my effort to kick-start the writer in me again. And so, here goes nothing:

Unlocking South Park

1. The Return

He had no idea where to go next.

He'd seen the creature, he was sure. Clearly South Park was the right choice. It really was the last best chance to find it. But what now?

It was a dimly lit night, fog rolling across Stark's Pond, barely illuminated by a crescent moon. And he'd shielded himself in the nearby woods to avoid detection. But there was no mistaking the silhouette he saw. When it came out of the Pond, it came out of a dream, a nightmare. His nightmare.

It was bizarre then, that the first feeling he felt toward seeing this manifest nightmare was delight. For a beastly creature, it was actually quite wondrous, even beautiful. Its fur trapped beads of water that glistened in the moonlight as it rose from the depths of the pond. It's claws reflecting delicate strength. He wanted to hug it, hold it, embrace it like his Teddy Bear Ike.

But reality set in, this was the beast he'd spent a lifetime chasing. There was no time to admire it. The American Public was at risk again. But why, why did it return back to South Park? What did it want? What is here?

No matter what its motives, he had to do something. It could strike at any moment. Or even worse, leave. And then he'd have no proof. Again! Clearly, there was one thing to do. He'd have to be courageous enough to take a picture.

Even with the low quality camera on his iPhone, it'd be proof. He dug it out of the camouflaged coat's pocket and unlocked it. Immediately it started playing loud, vulgar death metal. He blushed, despite having convinced himself he was proud of the music. His ex-wife never let him listen to anything this hardcore. He was so hardcore. Super hardcore. And he could listen to anything he wanted to now, with her out of the picture.

Speaking of pictures, his was running away. Obviously this monstrosity had the same aversion to super hardcore music as his ex-wife. Perhaps there was a connection. He'd have to take note of that, run tests on her.

But now was the time to think fast. He had to catch it. It couldn't get away, it couldn't elude him again! He decided he needed backup and started texting.

Before he finished, he glanced back up. The beast was gone, completely out of sight.

He instinctively took off after it, following the tracks in the snow the hooves had left behind. As he was running, he kept typing. He finished the text, and hit send.

"South Park CO. It's here! Super Serial."

Dammit, why is auto correct always changing serious to serial! But he didn't have time to correct it.

He looked up as soon as he confirmed it had sent, but he couldn't stop in time. He plowed right into it, whatever it was. He didn't get a good look, and fell backwards into the snow.

Al Gore could feel his best chance to catch ManBearPig, and his consciousness, fading.