Welcome to the Syndicate - A South Park Mafia Fanfic

Chapter 4

A/N: Now we're starting to get somewhere ;)

Kenny and Craig were reviewing some operational plans of the Syndicate when the former's phone buzzed in his pocket. The blond took out his phone and opened his texts. Kenny paled significantly as his eyes scanned over the message. "Shit... I'm so fucked...."

"Huh? What?" Craig dropped the documents in his hands on the desk carelessly before moving to his friend's side. He read the text over Kenny's shoulder and inhaled sharply. "When would he be here?"

"Probably an hour, give or take," Kenny replied.

"What?! That soon?!"

"He went to the site himself since he happened to be in the area when the report came in. Just my luck I guess."

"An hour...." Craig repeated, thinking.

"Welp," Kenny grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the beverage table and drank it straight from the container. "It's been an honor." He threw his head back and took another swig of the liquor.

"Don't fucking say that," Craig hissed.

Kenny chuckled, setting the now empty bottle down. "I was just joking, man."

"I'm not. Don't joke about this shit. If anything happens to you-"

"Nothing is going to happen to me. He wouldn't kill me off, not over this."

Craig looked at Kenny silently, a scarce look of great worry evident in his eyes. "What do we do?"

"Not 'we,' 'I.' That warehouse was solely under my management, and I want you to wash your hands of it as much as possible."

"What? I can't just watc-"

"You have to. If we want to finish what we came here to do, one of us has to be in power. Right now, I have one strike under my name, so you can't have any."

"We're supposed to be in this tog-"

Kenny held a hand up, motioning for Craig to stop talking. He pulled a drawer open and retrieved a device from it. Kenny turned on the bug detector and quickly scanned the room for any hidden cameras or microphones, something they did constantly before they talked about sensitive topics.

Craig took the cue and went to lock the door as well.

Kenny put the detector away when he found nothing of concern, sliding the drawer shut. "Who do you think did it?"

Craig fell silent for a moment to think. "You don't think it's the girls, do you?"

"The Hit and Run Girls?" Kenny questioned. It wasn't that much of a surprise when groups of low-level mafia members were murdered. Over the last year, however, they started picking up on a particular pattern. Many of their members were found dead while clearly ready to engage in sexual behaviors. The scene of crime occasionally yielded a pair of female items of clothing, pointing to two girls behind the killings. Over time, Kenny and Craig had dubbed the two mysterious girls as the Hit and Run Girls.

"They've been picking off more and more of our lower level henchmen, getting braver and braver each time. If they caught wind of your warehouse..." Craig trailed off.

Kenny plopped himself down on a couch and dropped his voice until it was only audible to Craig. "I mean, we've been plotting about that warehouse for a while. If it was them, those girls did us a favor."

"Not by dragging you into the mix. We were gonna clear you of it first."

"That wasn't exactly possible. The warehouse has always been under my jurisdiction, that's not something we could've gotten around."