Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Do you ever wonder what it would be like to sleep forever? Not even in a sad, edgy sense. Just sleep, for at least a couple of days, then wake up and resume normal life? It's a coma, basically. A sleep-induced coma. Yeah, well, Kenny found himself wishing to be in one as his phone went off.

With the speed of a half-dead worm, struggle and all, the dirty blond just barely managed to swipe his phone off the bedside table at the right of his head. He squinted as the screen reminded him what God's light looked like, just ten times less pleasing. There were a multitude of messages, five of them being Cartman's, and the rest a mix of Kyle and Stan's.

[food producer]
mysterion
wake up u poor son of a bitch
meeting at 9
i will kick ur ass to the fucking moon if u dont get up
KENNY!!!

Kenny found himself groaning at the overweight man's threat, ever since he claimed himself to be the 'leader' of their group, he had become just that much more overbearing. It was mornings like this Kenny half-wished Kyle succeeded at killing Eric in the past. Only partly, because he really hoped the snappy redhead still would. He read the next couple of messages.

[pretty mom]

Hey dude.
Fatass is demanding everyone meets at HQ by nine.
Please come here before I suffocate him with his own fat.
I bought sandwiches, just feed Karen and drop her off at mine, then walk over.
I hired a babysitter to look over them.
Thanks, <3

Kenny hummed a short air of laughter, sending a quick 'thx, ill be there <3' back. Kyle always seemed angry in some way, which included how he texted. At least he got a heart. Stan only sent three texts.

[pretty mom's bf]

hey, kenny!
Eric wants us to meet, see u there!
p.s. plz hurry, i cant hold ky back for long

It was only about 8:20, yet Kenny resigned himself to his fate and sat-up. The sun reflected off of certain points in his room, creating an almost dream-like surrounding. Stretching his long, wiry limbs, the blond carried himself to his closet and pulled out a pair of socks and boxers. It was said that starting your day off with a shower did good on someone's mental health. Whether that was actually true or not, Kenny didn't know. But his hair was getting greasy, so to the shower he went. Even though his money situation was still pretty tight, it beat the shithole he lived in back at home by a Longshot. The cash he earned at work and was given by thankful citizens had been just enough to buy a quaint two-bedroom apartment in a busy area between South Park and Denver. This gave him the luxury of warm, running water and a breakfast that didn't contain lukewarm poptarts. Wrapping a towel around his sopping waist, he dried off and threw on a simple white t-shirt and some grey sweatpants.

He looked himself over in the mirror, shaggy blond hair, airy blue eyes, a handful of freckles, and a missing front-tooth grin greeted back. Sure to wipe away any dripping and apply a thin coat of vaseline to his chapped lips afterwards. When everything checked out, he walked himself over to the kitchen. Karen was awake, it seemed. Her hair was frizzy, and she pawed at her eye with a closed fist. "Morning, sunshine!" He cooed, fixing her a bowl of honey cheerios.

"Morn'n, Ken." The little girl yawned, a small grin ghosted her face as he pecked her forehead. "Are you goin' t' work?"

"Sadly, the big guy wants us there bright and early for something. Kyle told me you'll be staying with Ike for the day, okay? If I'm not back by eleven tonight, you're gonna sleep over." Karen seemed happy at the thought of seeing her friend, and simply nodded between bites. It was 8:40 at this point. He made the effort to pack his little sister's thing; an extra pair of clothing, pajamas, some toys, and her favourite baby doll. She had put her bowl in the half-way to overflowing sink by the time he came back. "Ready?"

"Yup! Let's go!" Karen jumped up, shuffling the backpack over both shoulders and following the tall blond out the door. It was a beautiful day, the sun shone without a single cloud to block its warm rays. Cars drove past them, down the traffic riddled streets to wherever destination. Kenny held Karen's little hand tightly, ensuring she wouldn't walk onto the road or get snatched up by some stranger. Not that he thought she would, logically.

Just a block down, Kyle's apartment building came into view. It was a steel blue, with about twelve floors and a couple residents peering down from their balconies. He pushed the metal doors of the building's entrance open, fishing his keys from his pocket to get into the main plaza. It was pretty fancy for what the place was worth, but Kyle always chose the best possible options in everything, which included housing. They took a short trip up the elevator, reaching the eleventh floor before racing out. Kenny was about to be late, and Eric always became uncontrollably furious when his orders were ignored. Not that he was actually scared of the man, just not mentally ready for the shit he'd spew afterwards.

A quick knock on room 505 produced a petite brunette. She was pretty, and Kenny would've stayed to chat longer had he not been in a rush. With a confirmation that he was the aforementioned friend of Kyle's, a tease for her phone number, and a quick greeting to Ike, the dirty blond ran off with the speed of a bullet. He flew down the twisting fire escape stairway, disregarding the elevator completely, and followed his mental map out the parking garage.

From there, he slipped past busy streets and overflowing shops, making it to a large office building labeled 'Coon and Friends'. Its glittery windows and polished exterior hid the rotten core of the man inside. With a quick glance at his phone, the blond waved the sliding doors open and walked in. He straightened his clothing and looked around. Hundreds of workers sat at their desks, typing on computers with impressive speed or chatting about sponsorships and future deals. "Hi Kenny, looking for Eric?" A feminine voice called from the right, and he turned his head. There, leaning against a receptionist desk, was Wendy. Her long, glossy black hair had been tied into an impossibly neat bun. Actually, everything about her was impossibly neat, now that the man thought about it. With grace, the ex-vigilante wrote a note and handed it over to another worker, focusing back on the panting man

"Yeah, he texted me about a meeting but never listed the room."

"Floor eight, business office 12b. That's where everyone is. Hurry, he's about to start." She motioned to the elevator on the other side of the floor.

"Shit, thanks Wennie." Resuming his fast pace, the dirty blond slammed his fist on the eighth button and waited impatiently for the few seconds it took the elevator box to open. It took him two minutes to reach the floor, and point five seconds to enter room 12b. He was greeted with a long table, chairs already set-up with people sitting in them. Kenny took his seat between Kyle and Jimmy. To the freckled man's right, Stan was cleaning his equipment, oil splattered his clothing like a tye-dye job gone wrong. Kyle was clad in neat, washed clothing. He kept a small distance from the stained man to keep them clean. "You're here, finally." He groaned.

"Whatever dude, where's Eric?" The curly redhead nodded to the front of the room, to the heavy-set man standing upfront with a file under his arm. "Oh god." He was handed a gourmet sandwich in pity, chowing down like a starved dog.

"My fellow heros, listen up!" A snobby voice rang, silencing the room in seconds. Eric grinned smugly. "I have good news everyone! We finally have a plan to stop Professor Chaos, thought of by the ingenious Coon." He pulled a string from behind that hung from the ceiling, allowing a projector screen to come flying down with a ching! "Allow me to explain our newest mission, Project: Chaos." The brunet swiped a remote off from his belt, pressing it and grinning as pictures appeared on screen. They looked at each other suspiciously, Stan paused his polishing, gently putting the dirtied rag on his lap. What?

"Chaos?" A tall, dark-skinned man asked, straightening his posture. Tolkien was the most level-headed of them all. His tone was calm, if not a little curious. "I haven't heard anything about him since last month?"

"Y-yeah," another voice agreed. "I th-th-thought Gen-gener-g-gen- Disarray was run-running e-e-everything at the mo-moment?"

"There have been reports of him recently." Kyle spoke, "Stan and I have been following the criminal watch charts. He was spotted just north of Denver two days ago." The freckled man held up his phone to prove it, showing a google maps view of neighborhoods in Denver. Light blue dots marked Chaos' path, down city streets and around old warehouses. "There's not much else I could find, but he's on the move. You think it means something?"

"Dammit. No matter what he's planning, send me the location and I'll patrol tomorrow." Kenny muttered, so much for a relaxing week.

"AY! YOU FUCKERS LISTEN TO ME-"

"Course dude, I'll text it right now if you want?" They chose to ignore the screaming brunet, carrying on with their talk.

"Yeah, that's cool. Thanks man." Kenny grinned lopsidedly, giving a thumbs up as he received the link.

"AY!"

"Okay okay, christ dude, keep going." The heros settled down, focusing their attention back to the screen. "You make that with google docs?" Clyde and Kyle snickered.

"AHEM! Thank you. Anyway, the plan is simple. Mysterion and Kite will locate and contain Chaos within the following week, knock him out or something I don't care."

"Are we capturing an animal or a person?" Tolkien quipped.

"Then," the picture image changed, showing a short row of text and some messily-scribbled blueprints, "we get him strapped down to the medical chair in the infirmary. I've discovered through… very legal sources that power-absorbent restraints have been in production. If we are to obtain them, everything will go smoothly."

"Fifty shades of grey?" Kenny coughed out.

"SHADDUP KINNY! Ahem. Professor Chaos harnesses electricity as a power source. He does this by absorbing the electric currents from natural and man-made sources. But what if we were to feed him… too much power?"

"He'd become too strong and kill us all." Kyle huffed.

"Shaddup jew, you're just jealous I thought of this before you." The redhead rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his long hair.

"Sure."

"Think about it, people! We could have a killing machine on our hands! With a little tinkering he'd follow our every command! Just imagine it, the people wouldn't have to worry for their lives, and we could have a test dummy for new machinery, or medicine."

"No." Kenny hissed, "god, Eric, do you hear yourself? We'd be worse than him for doing this, it'd go against our role as heros. We catch Chaos and throw him in jail, nothing more, nothing less."

"Don't you want the satisfaction of knowing Chaos was utterly under your control? That he had to obey your every order? Every demand?" Eric asked, ignoring the man's words. He was acting… off. His eyes slightly widened, grin a little too large and toothy. There was a shake in the crazy man's voice, a loose wire in his head.

"Stop it, Cartman. We aren't going along with your freaky snuff film fantasies." Kyle barked, silencing the others' delusions.

The brunet growled, crossing his arms like an angry toddler. Eric turned the projector off and sneered, "fine, I'll just show it to you another way. Meeting is over. Fuckin' jerks." The sound of shuffling consumed the room, and Stan nudged Kenny's shoulder.

"Hey dude, me and Kyle were gonna check out that new café down the street, wanna come?" The onyx-haired man wiped his cheek with a sleeve. "Obviously after I change, but like, yeah."

"Sure! But uh, I didn't bring my wallet…" He added regretfully.

"Nah, don't worry about that," Stan held up fourty dollars cash, "we got it covered." The man stepped closer, whispering, "Clyde stole it from fatty's pocket."

"Shit, dude. For real?" They began walking out, Kyle taking a stance beside them.

"Yup. I swear, if that wallet was anymore loaded it'd be as fat as Eric." The trio snickered at the freckled man's remark

…

"Welc-come to Tweak and NGH! Tucker's Coffee. W-what would you GAH! LIKE TO ORDER?" A twitchy blond spoke behind the counter, his body shaking every few seconds.

"Hi, can I get a small black coffee?" Kyle waited for the man to type it in.

"A-anything else?"

"Yeah, one medium ice cap and a large chocolate-banana smoothie." Kenny eyed a pastry from the display case, and his friend caught on. "Add two lemon tarts and a cake pop on that."

"Alright, ngh, your t-total is twen-twenty four dollars and thir-guh thirty cents. Will this b-be instore or Gah! takeout?" They looked at eachother.

"Instore, why not?" Kyle nudged the others to find a seat as he paid, and Stan followed Kenny's lead. They settled for a little table by the window, watching as morning turned to afternoon. "Guy said a waiter would hand out the food." The redhead called as he walked over.

"Fancy."

The three chatted for a while, about work, college and the creepy things Eric Said during their meet. Soon enough, a waiter came, and Kenny was the first to notice.

He was short. Like, tiny. Maybe 5"2 or 3. with fair skin, and beauty marks lining his face like little constellations. The light chub of his body had Kenny drooling. With sandy blond hair, shaved at the sides, and heterochromatic eyes. Ocean blue and mossy green. "H-hey fellas, three drinks a-an' some pastries, right?"

"That's us." The tall man answered, suddenly finding himself very interested in the adorable blond. With pink cheeks, the waiter handed them their respective food and drinks before swiftly disappearing as someone behind the counter yelled, "Butters!"

"Enjoy!" He called from his shoulder.

"Hot damn." The dirty blond whistled, taking a sip of his smoothie. "I'd hit that."

"Kenny, keep it in your pants please." Kyle reprimanded, slapping his shoulder.

"Seriously, dude."

"Oh fuck off." He grinned, trying to spot where the man had gone.

"Just eat your tart and shut it." After that, they calmed down. It was dark out when they left, and only Kyle and Kenny walked together, as Stan lived in the other direction. Just as they were about to part ways, a phone buzzed, and the freckled man pulled it out of his jacket pocket. The tall blond looked over his shoulder in curiosity.

[Fatass]
office now.
bring kenny
I want to show you something.

"Yup. He's lost it. Probably gonna sell us to human trafficking." Kenny hummed, shrugging his shoulders as if accepting his fate.

"Dude, don't even joke about that. Should we actually go?"

"You know what? Sure. Why not?" He really should've never said that. If they had never come, maybe none of this would have taken place.

It took them ten minutes. The building was already dark, weirdly enough. No one was inside, and all the lights were turned off. "Eric?" Kenny yelled, his voice travelling throughout the room, yet no one answered.

"Let's check the office, he might be in there." Kyle whispered, tugging the man's wrist towards the elevator. He had never noticed it before, but there was a fairly loud buzz as they travelled up. When the doors opened with a rattle, Kenny held his breath.

There was blood trailing the floor, still wet and very much fresh. The curly-haired man beside him gulped, clenching his fists. "What the fuck."

"I-I don't know. Come on, we need to look." The two followed the blood trail, it led to the room they had originally been in that morning. Nudging the door open with his foot, Kenny felt himself slip into his hero persona, pushing personal emotions to the back of his head.

A man lay there, strapped in the medical chair Eric had depicted in his blueprints, bleeding out with strange metal indents around his skin. Kyle rushed over, checking for the man's pulse, immediately trying to stop the bleeding as he found one. "My matsterpiece is finally complete, can't you tell?"

"Eric, what the FUCK. What are you DOING? Kenny call the cops."

"Don't you see? I've done it." He replied, eerily calm and collected.

"Done what?"

Eric smiled, "he won't wake up, Kyle. You should've listened."

The man only seemed to bleed more profusely, his heartbeat becoming fainter and fainter. Kyle had nothing but his hands and clothing to cover the wounds, unable to leave and search for a first aid kit. Kenny was still on the phone with the receiver, attempting to restrain Eric and relay as much information as he could at the same time. He hated to say it, but there really wasn't much hope left for the man. He already seemed to have left mentally, and Kyle could only hope he would stay unconscious until the end. "You bastard. What's your end game? Huh? What is this supposed to prove, Eric?" He began to stand, unsteady and covered in another man's blood.

"Oh Kyle. Sweet, dumb little Kyle. Can't you see? I've already won." The redhead felt a surge of anger take over him, rushing the bigger man with intense speed. Eric was one step ahead, however, and used his nails to scratch at the other. Just barely nicking his arm. Kyle wasn't going to give up, he punched the other in the nose and seemingly disintegrated, appearing behind him with a scowl. With the grace of a dancer, the shorter man kicked at his ribcage, sending him stumbling into a pissed-off Kenny.

The blond twisted him around painfully, holding a black butterfly knife to his throat. "Just stand down, Eric. You've won nothing." He sneered with a gravelly voice.

"Really?" The brunet head-butted him, it was just enough force to get the man's hold loose enough to slip out of. He swiped at the blond, getting one good scratch along the bridge of his nose. It hurt like a bitch, but Kenny really didn't have the time to think about it right now. Kyle leaped at him, but Eric was out the window and down the street by the time they could scamper out.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" The redhead muttered, looking around like an animal on the hunt. And in this situation, he sort of was. Flashing lights, red and blue, alongside the blaring of police sirens, reminded them they were too late.

Chapter Text

They still couldn't find him.

A lot had changed throughout the week of Eric's absence. 'Coon and Friends' was rebranded to 'Freedom Co.', with Wendy and Kyle leading management. They had sent out a public response, clearing the air and giving a reason as to why one certain hero would no longer be a part of the team. With that came a phone number to call if any suspicious activity was spotted, specifically having to do with Eric. They worked alongside the police to arrest the brunet, privileged (not really) with having known him for so long. It certainly sped up their investigation.

An autopsy performed on the man Eric abducted only had them asking more questions than answers. His name was Wyatt Cunnings, a John Doe to the world. With no known friends or family, and no one claiming they knew him once it came out publicly, they really didn't have much. The only thing to give even the slightest of clues were the strange devices removed from his body, found underneath his skin and melded around his skull. When activated, a mini disk spun, producing this high-pitched frequency that animated the body, even in death. It was like putting salt on a skinless frog, creepy and more than a little concerning.

Kenny had become much more guarded around Karen, he and Kyle hung around each other way more than usual to ensure the children's safety. Perhaps it was a little over exaggerated, but Eric was a very corrupt, spiteful person. They wouldn't put kidnapping and ransom against him. If they were unable to watch over Ike and Karen, Tolkien had volunteered to have the kid's stay with his parents just out of town. It was their safest bet, and made working overtime a little easier. Thursday seemed to be just the greatest day for everything to go haywire.

"Mysterion, Kite? Can you hear me?" The little mic attached to Mysterion's headgear chirped. The pair had been investigating a strange sound one little old lady reported. It turned out to just be a racoon, scuttling around her garbage can at ungodly hours in the night. With a quick report back, and a sweet treat from the thankful woman, they continued forward.

"Loud and clear, Mosquito."

"We're receiving a distress signal around the U-Store-It alley." The heros on duty made haste, hopping along buildings and between street lights. It was still fairly early in the morning, air chilly from last night's thunderstorm. The smell of mildew and, weirdly enough, burning, mixed with the scentless breeze.

"Details?" Kite quipped.

"Anonymous caller, just phoned us five minutes ago. They reported a rotting smell while walking their dog across the street, said there was something else that resembled blood, but didn't investigate. It could be an animal but… I don't know. We have the police on speed dial if you guys spot anything."

"Okay, we're halfway there. Stay on line." The hooded man instructed, his identity heavily concealed by the dark clothing draping over his body. Kite was covered just as well, his colour scheme a mix of blue and greys to combat Mysterion's blacks and purples. They were a perfect juxtaposition, hero persona and all. It seemed the caller was right. A strong, putrid scent filled their noses, even standing a couple feet away from the alley. Kite's mask allowed for some protection at least, masking him from the harsher effects. Mysterion simply had to bear through it, hopping down onto the stained concrete below.

Standing up fully, Mysterion was left almost tripping over the arm of a dead man. His eyes widened just a little, joined by a silent Kite the second after.

"Holy Shit."

They were met with eight bodies in total, scattered around like dog toys. Six male, two female from what the redhead could see. Blood splattered the ground around them, painting their bodies like sick oil canvases. There was no struggle. Not from the slaughtered, at least. Each victim's skin, looking closer, had strange pigments. He knew where the burning smell was coming from. Streaks of violet and navy blue coated their bodies, yellow where the other two couldn't reach. Some hair was burnt black, and their eyes held a glassy quality. Like deep ocean fish. That lifeless, icy blue colour. Something electrocuted them to death, it was the most plausible answer.

"Mysterion." Kite croaked after a period of time, "look at this." He crossed the blood bath towards his partner, crouching down beside him. The redhead pulled down the neckline of one man's shirt, displaying the symbol carved into his neck. Oh. Oh god.

"Do the others… have one?"

"Let me look, you phone Mosquito. I can check for pulses as well, but… I doubt any."

With hesitant confirmation that yes, each body did indeed carry the same symbol, Mysterion gulped. The mark had been scrawled half-hazardly into each body, presumably with something dull. Like a screwdriver, or a flat shard of metal. It was undeniably a diamond shape.

He knew who it belonged to. Knew a little too well. But it just couldn't be, because he would never go this far.

"No fingerprints, nothing. But I think we've found our big bad already. Godamnit. First Coon, now Professor. Who's next? Toolshed?" He could understand Kite's bewilderment, it was just too close to each other, too similar. "No pulse. I'm looking at blood samples but they've been tampered with. Diluted, somehow. And take a look at this." The redhead handed the heavily masked hero a bloodied piece of folded paper. Upon unfurling it, a list of coordinates were revealed. "Something horrible is happening, Myst."

"I know," his cold response, "But what the hell is it? And why Chaos of all people?"

"Mysterion, Kite? What's going on over there?" The tall hero had almost forgotten Mosquito was still listening in.

"We found the sight. It's a bloodbath, Mosquito. Eight dead, someone's tampered with the blood, and Professor Chaos is written all over it. Send back-up, hell, tell the city to shut the whole block off. We don't need more traumatized citizens."

"Yes sir. I'm sending Toolshed and Cybernet over right now. The police will get there in ten minutes."

"Thank you, I'm cutting the line now. See you back at HQ." He disconnected, just in case someone had hacked into the call and were listening in like he used to for the police station. It shouldn't be possible unless Kite or Wendy were the one's doing the hacking, but he still didn't trust it. Kite turned to him, slightly bloody himself from checking over each body.

"That note. Are you going to check?"

"It's our only hope of moving forward, I'll go alone."

"Don't you dare, I'm coming with. Who knows if it's really Chaos." The freckled man argued, crossing his arms like an angry mother. Mysterion didn't put it against him, they were a tight-knit group, a family.

"Alright, alright. Fine. We'll leave once the others get here, call it a date night."

"Oh, fuck off, you."

…

Kite did most of the talking when help arrived, awkwardly comforting a fretting Toolshed while covered in dried blood. They had a moment, returned to HQ for a shower and new sets of their costumes, before setting off to the written coordinates. It was a long walk, sped-up only by their occasional jogging pace or Kite's particle bending powers. After maybe an hour of yapping and reassuring each other they weren't actually lost like complete idiots, the two reached their destination.

A huge, abandoned-looking building beckoned them closer. All the windows were shut tight, and all the lights were off. "This is it." Mysterion rasped.

"You make it sound like we're gonna die." Kite spoke, his typically boyish voice now hidden behind the mask's voice changer. It came out older, deeper.

"With all the shit that happened, we just might."

"Hush. Come on, we should look for a way in." There seemed to be no need, however. As Kite said that, a huge, bright flash of lightning shattered the concrete in front of them. Causing the two to jump back, switching into defensive positions.

"Apologies for my tardiness, dear heros. But it seems we're all here now!" A low voice spoke, revealing itself to be Chaos in all his metal glory. To be honest, Mysterion didn't find Chaos frightening for his appearance. Actually, he was pretty innocent looking. Cute even, from afar. The hero shook his head, standing up straight. He towered over the villain, even while hunching.

"What is the cause of this, Chaos? It's unlike you." The short man smiled, a stroke of blood still on his lightly freckled cheek. Kept on like some souvenir Chaos was proud of.

"Don't you know, Mysterion? I did it in self-defense."

"You killed eight people in self-defense." Kite deadpanned.

"Well, when ya say it like that, I s-suppose it sounds a bit silly. But I'm being truthful, really. Here, I've got something to show you." The masked man was always a little confused about the villain's voice. It typically sounded American, maybe with some other accent hidden underneath. But at times, Chaos broke out of that tone, and almost appeared Southern. Like, a Southern belle kind of drawl. It fit him, weirdly enough.

The two heros glanced at each other, slowly tailing the blond as he led them into the building. It was empty, silent except for the click of their boots hitting the cold ground. Mysterion stared a little harder at Chaos, more specifically his back. He wore a strange helmet, made of some kind of mystery metal with his sandy blond hair spewing out over top. His right eye, ocean blue, while the left was scarred over, now a cloudy grey. There was his cape, olive green in colour, hanging down to his ankles. But Mysterion found his outfit to be arguably the most eye-catching. A sky blue short sleeve, with slits around his chubby waist, and silver lines connecting the front to the back. He knew some kind of weird sapphire-like gemstone was attached to the front. Two more on the silver and gold of his gloves. Chaos wore form-fitting pants, the same shade as his cape, which were cut from knee to ankle in a triangular shape.

They finally reached the room, a large, open space with many objects and planners scattered around it. "Two days ago, reports came out about the deaths of four teenage girls. All in Denver. They were brutally murdered, raped, then left in a small pit the perpetrators dug. They were found dead as well, just a couple hundred feet away from the bodies." Chaos spoke slowly, his tone no longer mischievous or joyful.

"What? We never heard anything about this!" Kite hissed, glaring at the blue-eyed villain. "Are you lying?"

The professor shook his head, handing the two a newspaper. "Why would I? Especially about something of this scale?"

"A shock factor? I don't know. What are you getting at, Chaos?" Mysterion looked over the article. Indeed. On tuesday, may 17, four young girls were found dead in a self-made pit. Their murderers not far behind them. "And why haven't we heard of this?"

"Someone paid the police to keep it under wraps. I printed the article out before they removed it. But I'm afraid this wasn't a one time deal." He breathed, taking a seat on a desk close to him. "If you read through the entire thing, they found some weird machines connected to the bodies of the assailants. Turns out, those people had been dead days beforehand. They were being manipulated like puppets."

"My god, who paid for the cover-up?" The blond man shrugged, his lips pressed into a frown.

"Who knows. It could be the police, a third party, I couldn't tell you."

"So… wait. There were machines connected to the bodies? That manipulated them? Kite, that… that sounds a lot like our case." Mysterion turned to his partner, watching as the shorter man's mossy eyes grew big. Still, what did Chaos specifically have to do with this? To catch their attention?

"It does. But we found the guy still alive."

"Yeah, but when he passed, those devices started working."

"Fuck. Okay, look. Thanks for the info dump, but why did you kill eight people? We still haven't touched on that." The redhead spoke in a rushed tone, his stance uneven and twitchy.

"I found more. Was taking a stroll early in the morning, and suddenly those eight just… jumped me. They were awkward, acted like zombies and never uttered a word. I connected two and two together, felt for a heart beat when I got a guy restrained. Never got one, so I did what felt best 'n' killed them. If not for my own sake, the sake of whoever else would stumble upon 'em. Left my mark there so you would come looking for me." Chaos looked away, his voice even softer, "it shook me t-to the core it did."

"Okay, okay." Kite felt jittery, shaking himself to loosen up, "we'll get an autopsy report on them and check. Do you know anything else? Where these guys are coming from?"

"No, but I'll keep looking. No matter what, I'm not letting someone else get hurt. Not like I did." Mysterion felt that there was a deeper, more depressing meaning to those words, but tried not to focus on it. Instead, he formed a plan.

"What if we make a compromise? We'll give you official police statements, and anything else we can nab from our discoveries, in exchange for your information?"

"And how do I know if you won't call the police on me? Or get the info and run? Police statements aren't much if I can just steal them." Chaos made a point.

"Look, okay. This sounds insane, IS insane, but work with me here. Chaos, we'll allow you to work directly alongside us. Which means you get temporary safety from any arrest, and we won't even tell the cops you're here. That also means you'd meet the rest of the team, and see us out of costume. In exchange, however, you attempt to track down this so-called 'puppeteer' with us, share any and all findings, and we would also see you out of gear. It's an eye for an eye situation. Deal?" Kite, even in a bad place, could create a solid plan in seconds. Mysterion found himself wanting to object, but holding it.

If Chaos were to share their identities publicly, they'd also have his own to grant an arrest. It worked the other way as well. "I… yeah okay it's the best plan we have."

"Deal." The blond agreed, hopping off his seat to shake hands. "Give me tomorrow morning to get ready. It should be enough time for you to spread the news to your little group."

"Then it's decided. We'll meet you at twelve tomorrow, work on our overall plan, and yeah." The redheaded man rubbed his tired eyes, peering out the window. "You know how to get to the Freedom Co. building, right?"

"Sure do! Don't worry about little old me, Kite." He, too, looked out the window. Clouds began to build menacingly, covering the sky in grey, with just a hint of golden sunlight. "It's getting late, fellas. Keep those clippings if you want, I have plenty more where that came from. Allow me to lead you out, wouldn't be very hospitable if I didn't, huh?"

"Hospitable, sure." Mysterion drawled, finding the back and forth a little comforting. How odd. Just half an hour ago the two were thinking Chaos was going to murder them in broad daylight.

"Don't use sarcasm on me, mister!" Already, his demeanour changed from intelligent super villain, to your sweet country bumpkin neighbor. Chaos didn't even try to use his fake voice anymore, growing comfortable with his own. Mysterion supposed he didn't have to do his own, either. But it became a habit, with the outfit came the voice.

"Should we call you something else than just Chaos? Or are you gonna do a big reveal tomorrow?"

"Huh? Oh! Well, I suppose it wouldn't matter if I did or didn't say it right now anyway, call me Butters!" The shortest man chirped, a happy little grin settled on his face that just seemed natural.

"Butters? Wait. Wait, like the wai-" The hooded man was cut off.

"W-well, this uh, this sure was f-fun, fellas! B-but I should sure start run-running on home now! Buh-bye!" With another beam of thunder, the electric-wielder hurriedly disappeared.

"You're joking!" Mysterion shouted. "He was the hot guy at that coffee shop!"

"Don't yell that out loud, dumbass! Someone's gonna hear!" Kite reprimanded, on the edge of laughter.

"Why do all my crushes turn out to be either, a, the cause of my death, or b, criminals."

"Because you have rotten luck, and I'd argue Chao-er Butters is one of the more tame of the bunch. Also, it's not a crush, you just like sex." The redhead explained, nudging his partner in the ribs. "Also, Butters has a scar on his eye. That other guy didn't, and his right was green."

"Who else is named 'Butters', Kite?" The taller man whined, throwing an arm over the other's shoulder and leaning like he was injured. "It could be a glass eye for all we know."

"Well, we're meeting him tomorrow anyway. You can question him all you want then, loverboy."

"Kite!" He cried, simply collapsing more into the man.

"Whatever. Come on, dude. Let's get out of here before it rains, my hair is a bitch when it gets wet." With that, the two left the scene. Wondering, quietly, what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Text

"I wanna be a bimbo doll! Let's have another shopping hall. I wanna be a bimbo doll! My boobs are huge but I am s—" Cramped fingers dug underneath the foam-filled pillow, and baby blue painted fingernails tapped randomly around the phone's screen until the song stopped playing. It was silent for a while, his gentle breathing only adding to the peace. 6:20 a.m. A single bleary eye opened just a crack, blinking as the sun caused them to water. It was time to get up.

"Mmh." He groaned, yawning wider than a snake on the hunt. The blanket just didn't want to release him it seemed, its warmth and velvety texture only causing the man to sink back down. He had to get up now, or he wouldn't for the rest of the day. With a grumble and a whine, the little blond sat up. His vision swirled with colours he could barely make out, blues and pinks and purples. Like visual unicorn vomit, he thought to himself. Stretching so hard it caused his body to shake like he had been freshly possessed, the blond stood with the legs of a newborn fawn, and begrudgingly made his way to the closet. There wasn't all that much in terms of clothing, but he made do with the collection. Neatly setting aside a low-cutting turquoise sweatshirt, and some beige joggers he hadn't seen in a good three years. Let's hope they fit.

He had worn a long 'Colorado Springs '95' t-shirt that reached to his knees to bed, ignoring the fact it probably wouldn't have had he been taller than the average seventh grader. There were also the shorts with a large bloodstain on the leg, which he only ever used as pajamas for that reason specifically. Taking a sniff at his armpit, the man coughed and pulled out a pair of freshly washed boxers and some socks with little lipstick designs on them. They were cute, okay?

In a sluggish, slow pace, the blond gathered his outfit in one arm and trudged to the bathroom. It was small, but the minimalist design was what made him like it so much. He pulled the shower curtain open and proceeded to begin undressing. With his shirt off, he looked in the mirror. It wasn't on purpose, really, he just kinda spaced out. And there he was, little old Butters Stotch, with only one crystal blue eye and the other an empty pink socket. A single long, peachy scar cut from his right eyebrow down to his chubby cheek. It was a huge insecurity of his for years, but now, the blond treated it with about as much care as he did with the moles on his shoulders.

With his pants off, it was shower time! Butters had extremely sensitive skin, and so he bought (and stole) special shampoos and soaps for himself. This also meant he bruised and scarred really easily, which didn't pair well with, you know, being a super villain. He rinsed the suds out of his short hair, scrubbing hard under his arms. It would rash, surely, but that was why he bought cream. Turning the water off, and wrapping himself in a towel, Butters dried his body and got changed. His platinum blond locks were still damp, as was his fair skin, but he ignored that to carefully push in a glass eye that matched his real one. Blinking, he made sure it looked natural before leaving the steamed room.

Now came breakfast. With some homemade pancake mix, a tin of chocolate bits and some fresh banana slices, Butters indulged in the delicious meal that was chocolate and banana pancakes. He was a damn good baker, that was for sure. With two eaten and the rest packaged for later, he finally had some time to relax until the time came for him to meet the heros. The blond wondered, toying with the piercing on his pudgy stomach, who each hero would look like. He focused the most on Mysterion, both his favourite enemy and person to tease. Was he nice? Did he have brown hair or black? Maybe it was blond? Ginger? Although, that was kind of Kite's brand. But, in a few hours he would know. Just a few more hours. Just a few more hours.

…

Kyle typed rapidly on his computer, dead to the world and its inhabitants. That included Stan, who clung to his shoulders with his face pressed to the man's neck. It was a best friend thing, he convinced himself. There were dozens of emails, both from the police and city officials, he had busied himself with replying to. Another attack was reported in Edgewater, by far the most tame, with only one man being harmed. Three women, all strapped with the same corpse manipulating device, were found officially deceased wednesday despite carrying the attack on a friday morning. Forensics looked around only to find no extra clues as to who was the main cause behind all this. Kyle had a pretty good idea, though. "Find anything?" Stan murmured, finally moving.

"Nothing. There was a thing in Edgewater but nothing came of it other than following the whole dead person moving trend. God, Stan, I don't know what to do! I talked with another group like us who work in Aspen, and they agreed to double their patrol routes and spread the message around, but who knows if that'll even do anything!" The redhead tugged at his poorly tied-up locks, sighing as the other man gently grabbed and held onto his much smaller hands.

"It'll do something, you don't have to get all stressed out, dude. You're like, the smartest person I know. We're also here to support you, Kyle. Don't forget that."

"I know, I'm just— you know? If this starts happening outside of Colorado, we can't do much after that. And while I doubt it will, since this shit always happened to us as kids growing up in South Park, it's still a worry." He took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly as Stan played with his freckled fingers. "Has Wendy said anything?"

The subject of Stan's ex was still a little sour, although that only ever really happened when you brought up their past failed relationship. In becoming adults, the two sorted their differences and decided to stay friends. While they were still a bit awkward, it worked out fine in a professional setting. "Regarding the case? Zilch. She emailed me last night about talking to the state on sunday, though. She wanted to ask if you could come with for extra support."

The freckled man dug through his mental calendar, thinking. "Yeah, sure, I'm free. But what exactly will I be doing?"

The noiret shrugged. "You'll just have to ask Wendy. Probably give a statement or an argument, you're really good with those."

"Was that an insult?"

"Not directly." Stan grinned, eyes half-lidded as he giggled.

"Dork." Kyle huffed, no heat to his words. The noiret just shook his head with a large smile, squeezing their interlocked hands.

"And, before I forget. Can you please explain why I got a text at one a.m. about Kenny supposedly having a crush on Chaos? And the fact that we're gonna meet him TODAY!?"

"Oh yeah, that. Okay, so basically-" Kyle explained the details of yesterday night in full, answering Stan's little quips in between words. His hands waved frantically throughout, reanimating the story in his own way. The noiret loved when his best friend talked, especially when he brought up past experiences. Perhaps Kyle wasn't the best at creating fantastical tales, ones of magic and dragons and heroes, but he could talk about real-life events as if they were. It left Stan with a lovesick grin on his face ever since they were kids. "And we agreed on twelve today, so he's gonna be here in about," the redhead checked his phone, 10:46 it read, "an hour and a little bit."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, uh."

"But… wait. If Chaos, or uh… Butters, doesn't know what the hell is happening, who's behind all this?"

Kyle shrugged, shaking his head. "Probably whoever paid off the police, and…" he grimaced, "I know I always do this, but Eric did… he was the one with all the blueprints, right? I mean, it's kinda all leading back to…"

"Dude…"

"Look, I know I've always been the one that blames Eric, but you really can't just say it's a coincidence. We've been going around searching for some mysterious guy that's using mind control or whatever, when literally one week ago Eric killed and experimented on some dude! He's planning something, Stan."

It made sense, too much sense. And Stan wouldn't put it against Eric to do something of this scale. They really have been ignoring the guy that started this all. "You're right. God, I feel kinda dumb. At least the police already have his information, we can put him as our prime suspect."

"Yeah, alright. We'll just have to ask Butters if he can do some investigating on his own, I guess." Kyle fidgeted, he felt shaky from the topic. "I just— I really hope this clears up soon. It's too close to all the shit we went through in fourth grade, man."

"I know. Don't worry, I'm… I'm sure we'll figure this all out. We're gonna be okay, Ky." The redhead checked his phone once more, causing Stan to take a peek as well. 10:53. One more hour. One more hour.

…

It was time.

The men had gathered together on the second floor. Tolkien, Stan, Clyde and Jimmy sat at desks while the rest stood. 'The rest' currently being only Kenny, as Kyle had assigned himself to meeting Butters and guiding the blond over. "This is nerve-wracking, man." The dark-skinned man murmured, his fingers tapped an off-beat tune on the desk's wood.

"You think Kyle's okay?" Stan asked, chewing his lip in worry. The noiret always did that when he was panicking. Kenny really hoped it wouldn't scar like the redhead's had.

"He can literally turn into air, dude. Your boyfriend's fine."

"Fuck off. He's not my—" The front door opened with a creak, and they paused.

Kyle walked in first, unharmed and seemingly quite relaxed. "We're here." He announced, pushing the door open wider. Then came the blond.

He looked so… normal. It almost scared him. Butters padded in with an air of confidence, his eyes sweeping over each hero with a calculating gaze. "Guys, meet Butters. He'll be working alongside us during this case." The redhead introduced, his voice strong as they stayed silent. Kenny worried slightly about how the man would react upon learning their names. They still had to keep in mind he was a very capable super villain, even if he did kind of look like a bunny.

"Well, h-heya fellas!" Oh god, never mind. Kenny was still going to hit that.

He just had to speak first. "Hey, I'm Kenny, nice to meet you. Out of fighting, that is."

"Name's Tolkien, or Cybernet."

"Clyde, Mosquito."

"J-Jimmy, F-Fa-Fast Pass." The brunet stuttered, grinning as he spat the words out.

"Hi, I'm Stan, otherwise known as Toolshed." He gave a little wave.

"You already know me." Kyle shrugged, "Coon's name is Eric, for uh… future reference."

Butters turned to Kenny with a knowing look, "that means you're the big m-mystery man himself, Mister!"

"You'd be correct." He grinned, looking the other blond up and down. Kyle rolled his eyes, fake gagging behind the two.

"Okay… enough of THAT. Butters, we were informed that you had more information?" Tolkien pulled them out of their stupor, and the little blond nodded.

"Yup, it's all here." He pulled out a large, manilla folder from virtually nowhere, plopping it down on the dark-skinned man's desk. "I wrote down the timelines, b-but everythin' should be in order from the first to most recent experiences, so."

They flipped through each paper as Kyle returned to their side. He stood along Kenny, and eventually Stan as the noiret gave up his seat. "Looks good."

"Alright! G-guess I'll begin. Officially, this whole thing started the night Coo-Eric went all, um, h-haywire. But some weeks earlier, my men found this abandoned-like bunker. Inside, these spooky lookin' devices were just kinda… tossed around. Here." He dug a hand into the folder's right pocket, pulling out four pictures. Each was marked with neat, red writing. A chain-link collar, some rusted bone saws, bloodied syringes and what Kenny could only describe as some kind of metal endoskeleton. "Found 'em in Colorado Springs. Went back the day later to take them, but POOF! Gone like the wind. There's not much I can do now. When your report went public, I knew immediately they had to be connected. Yesterday's attack was a blessing in disguise, really. It let me kill off a couple of those things as well. I-I couldn't find much on the Edgewater attacks, but there was some good information regarding the cover-up." Butters opened his mouth to continue, but was quickly cut-off.

"What cover up?" Clyde asked, furrowing his brow. Of course, the others weren't previously informed beforehand of the little blond's information.

"Shit, we didn't tell you, huh? Basically, four girls were killed a while back and someone paid the police off so they wouldn't tell the public." Kenny sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back. "We don't know who, but they must be rich."

"Butters printed the unpublished article they wrote and gave us a couple copies. Gross stuff, really. No matter the money, they're cops. They have a duty just like us." Kyle added, disgust building in his stomach.

"Jeez, and this was in…?"

"Boulder." Butters answered, offering a little smile of comfort.

"Damn. Okay, continue, sorry."

"Oh, it's alright! But yeah, I think I know why they called everything off so easily."

"And that is?" Kenny pressed.

"Have you guys heard of O-Officer Yates? He was a cop in South Park. Huge racist, sexist, and he was caught taking meth inside the station with almost everybody else on the team."

"Holy fuck! Yates? Christ dude, we grew up there! He was definitely… something." Stan mused. He knew the guy was pretty screwed up, as was basically all the residents in South Park, but ignoring something of this scale was pretty rare, even for him.

"Fuck that guy."

"Y-yeah, f-f-fuck that g-guy."

"Well, he was discharged for a bit. But eventually, they switched him and his team around with Boulder's. So uh, he works there now as lead cop and detective." Butters summarized, fidgeting once more.

"That bastard. But I'm a little surprised, he took everything surrounding women pretty seriously."

"He also took money and drugs pretty seriously, Stan. Dude is probably too conked to care." Kyle sniffed.

"Conked?"

"Shut up." The redhead grumbled, cheeks flushing a cherry red.

"B-but yeah, that's about the gist of it. I've been checking through s-some police files in my spare time, but there isn't much yet. I could check the m-morgue?" The little blond was morally against searching through dead people, but he also wasn't morally correct as a villain. So it wouldn't ruin his reputation, not by much, he supposed.

"Nah, there's no need. We can just ask the station for a run-down." Kenny decided, his words final. "I should go back to—" CRASH! Glass shattered from the floor above. The dirty blond stopped mid-sentence, his attention now on the staircase leading up.

"Get behind me." Tolkien hissed, leading the group to the next floor with silent footsteps. Butters' body was tense, ready to fight at any given moment. He accidentally zapped Kenny when the man brushed his shoulder. Kyle's eyes glowed a faint green, bright against the darkened halls.

They felt wind drafting from a window, broken glass lay on the floor in front. In the middle of it all, a tiny camera was nestled, blinking red. "It's recording, someone shut that thing off." Without another word, Butters lifted his hand and a stream of electricity fried the device. Steam puffed through its charred, burnt screen.

"Kite, grab that camera. We can look through the feed if it's not completely fried. Mosquito, Fast Pass, you two check the halls in case anyone got in." With a salute, they sped-off in different directions. Kyle kneeled down so he could examine the damage.

"It should still work, sorry 'b-bout that fellas."

"Eh, so long as we can upload the feed. Don't worry about it, dude." The redhead carefully picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

When the search came back with no one to interrogate, the men hurried back over to their previous spot. Kyle quickly plugged in a cable to the camera's drive, typing and clicking until they got the video running. "I'll start from the beginning, let's make sure this is an actual lead and not some kids playing a prank."

"If kids can throw a camera through the third story window, which has bullet-proof glass, let me remind you, I think we should be a little concerned." Stan muttered, and the freckled man shoved him.

Rewinding the feed to 0:00, they were first greeted by a metal table. Skipping the first few minutes, a flash of brown appeared before the camera was lifted and shakily filming a long, dark hall. "Was that hair?" Going back a second or so, Kyle paused on that flash of brown, discovering it to indeed be hair.

"It looks like Eric's." Clyde whispered.

"Let's keep going." Allowing the video to continue, whoever was filming began to walk down the aforementioned hall. There was no sound, but the redhead swore he could hear heavy breathing as the cameraman travelled up a staircase and into the daylight.

"That's where the coffee shop is, Tweek something. They must be really close to the agency if the cafe is right there."

Said person stopped suddenly, panning the camera up to a streetlight before zooming in on one specific person. "That's-... that's me!" Butters squeaked, his eyes widening a fraction. "Th-this must be from this morning, I-I crossed the street at eleven-something!"

"Did you see what they looked like, the person filming? Did you even see them?" Kenny nudged.

"Let's see… I almost bumped into this tall guy wearing a black hood. B-but his face was all covered, a-and it's not like I paid much attention." The little blond began to fidget once more, punching his knuckles together.

"How tall would you say he was?" They might as well get all the information available, in case this really was some threat. With how focused the guy was on Butters, they were on high alert.

"Oh geez, maybe six-three? H-he was pretty big in general, like… chubby. B-but that sounds mean."

"We called Eric a fatass all the time. If he really is six foot three, fat, and putting all his attention on you, I think we found our guy."

"W-why would he care for me? And how did he even k-know who I was out of gear?" Butters pondered, staring at Kenny with puppy dog eyes. The man flustered lightly, his face growing grim despite it all.

"There's some things we should tell you, babe. But you're not gonna like it."

Chapter Text

Phase 12. Phase 34. Phase 16.

Out of order. That was weird.

Phase 9. Phase 68. Phase 22.

No, no and no. Where was it?

Phase 2. Phase 17. Project: Chaos.

There. He clicked the title, opening up a large slide deck full of documents and their accompanying pictures. Quite a few hadn't been featured in their meeting a week or two ago. Looking closer, he could tell why. Kyle cleared his throat, speaking in a hushed tone. "Act one, preparations. The chosen pair of heroes, Kite and Mysterion, will identify Chaos' whereabouts and… bring him back unconscious. The newly built restrainment chair is to first be charged before it is bolted to the floor of the infirmary." The redhead furrowed his brow, muttering something about how Eric just had to use his space, but otherwise going silent. He allowed the others to read through quietly, hearing whispered gasps and exhales of disbelief.

"H-he was really gonna experiment on me?" Butters whimpered, standing a little straighter, a little tenser. They could practically feel the electric charge radiating off his fair skin, ready to burst and shock.

"Sure looks like it. He's always been interested in your electricity, and by extension, you. Talking about how it would be so useful to us, how we should find a way to harvest it. He also mentioned you a lot, just in general. But… we treated it as Eric being Eric, y'know? Kinda fucked up, but otherwise? He was just a nuisance." Kenny could see how, being said aloud, that statement was pretty messed up to the normal person. But Eric wasn't the normal person. And by that logic, neither were they. He just kind of wished the heavy-set man had left a lot sooner, without the murder mystery shit they had to solve.

"He's… always been like this?" Sadly.

"Ever since we were in kindergarten, but I wouldn't be surprised if the guy came out of the womb evil. He always put us in these weird situations, and we just kinda… followed him. When middle school came, we decided to drop him entirely. But Eric stuck to us like sticky tape, and now he's just gone too far. That is, if he's the one behind all this in the first place. I mean, he is, but…" Stan frowned, his words cold and to the point. It was as if he had said this exact statement multiple times in the past, and Kenny knows he has, having even listened to a few explanations like this with Kyle's angered screaming in the background. But the freckled man was dead silent. That same clicking sound brought their attention back to the monitor, where Kyle skipped through the rest of the slides hastily.

"This is some freaky shit, he's been planning this for a while now. Since 2018 at least. That was a good three or four years ago." Kenny's eyes widened slightly, that was dedication, especially for someone as deprived and impatient as Eric Cartman.

"Eighteen? We were just starting this whole hero thing, back then." Tolkien murmured. "Those were the good old days."

"And Chaos got all popular the year before, huh?" The dirty blond man exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "How did we miss this?"

"Who knows. When Eric moved out of his mom's, we never got another address. That reminds me, should we contact Liane? I mean, Eric might've said something to her? Anyway, he was always here until everyone in the building left, must've had a lot of spare time on his hands, the bastard made us do all the work while he sat on his ass." Kenny did sometimes wonder, from time to time, what Eric really did as 'The Coon' other than scratch shit and say he was doing God's work.

They stood in contemplating silence, opening their mouths to say a word before closing it. Kyle gently closed the laptop, a grimace on his face. They quietly shuffled out the room, no words exchanged until Stan broke the awkwardness. "Should we delete the documents?"

"We should send it to the police first." Tolkien spoke, "then… we burn the laptop. Maybe delete his account while we have the chance."

"Agreed." Kenny sighed, tired eyes scanning the room. "Should Wendy know about this? I mean, she has contacts that might help." The redhead nodded, promising to email her that night. "Are you going to be okay?" He nudged Butters, shaking the little guy back to the real world. "With all this?"

"Huh? O-oh, um, yeah. I have my ways, heh." His laugh was humorless, a shaky grin on his face that had probably meant to look reassuring. The dirty blond shrugged, straightening himself up.

"If you're sure, buttercup. I'm off for a bathroom break, anyone wanna… accompany me?"

"Nope, nope, we're good dude. You go do that." Clyde shoved him, and the wiry man laughed before leisurely strolling away, winking at the shorter blond. He responded by blushing hard, and shooing the man off with a dainty hand. Kenny roamed the halls, taking the longest way possible so he could stretch his legs. Passing a dark room, he caught a glimpse of something misplaced on the office table. Unable to pull himself away, the dirty blond wandered in, flicking the light switch up once his hand felt it.

A single, light green folder greeted him. It had the initials 'L.S' scrawled in blue pen on its front, and papers peeked out from its cover, as if they had been half-hazardly shoved in. He gently turned the page, reading the first report he could see.

Phase 1. 04/02/2017

Leopold 'Butters' Stotch

65 N Clarkson Street, apartment 107
Floor 6 #408

Lives alone, works at the 'Tweak and Tucker's Coffee' down the street.

Alias- Professor Chaos

More information needed.

-Eric T. Cartman

Kenny snatched the folder up, looking around the room as if other people had been peeping over his shoulder, reading what he had just read. It felt too private, too personal for even him to know of. Maybe, without the context of Eric's recent (possible) murders and his very obvious obsession with Butters as his latest lab rat, he would've been overjoyed to figure this out. If not a little bummed that his favourite enemy was now off the streets. Hero or not, he needed some kind of entertainment. Realizing the very reason he had come out here, and nearly pissing himself in the process, the man ran off with the binder under his arm. When he returned, walking in as leisurely as he had out, Kenny saw that most of his friends were lounging on desk chairs or the carpeted floor. They talked casually for the most part, some still muttering about the little experience they had just minutes earlier.

He tapped Butters on the shoulder, taking his wrist in a large hand, and winking to the others before leading the shorter man to a separate room. He placed the folder on a spare table. "Okay. Don't freak out, but I know where you live."

"WHAT!"

"No, like, fuck I shouldn't have started off with that."

"Seriously!" The blond reprimanded, still startled by his very stalkerish wording.

"Look, so I was going to the bathroom and there was this folder on a desk in one of our spare office rooms. And, because I had never seen it before, read the first page. And uh, this could be a false alarm, but I don't know anyone else affiliated with the name 'Butters', soo… here." He slid the contents of the folder over to Butters, tapping his fingers along the wood until the little guy caught up.

"Fuck." Why was that kind of hot? "I'm dead. That's… I-I'm dead. Eric knows where I live, I… what if he's broke in? There was some stuff I-I thought had been moved, but…"

"Hey, hey." He gently shook the other, "It's ok. We'll figure this out, yeah?"

"No, no he… oh god, that means he k-knows where Dougie lives."

"Who?"

"Disarray. He comes to my house all the time, I wrote his address down when he moved and… oh my god this is all my fault." The blond's face was stuck in this state of shock, his breathing elevated as he spoke. "Oh Ken, he's j-just a kid! Eric wouldn't… harm a kid, w-would he?"

Kenny gulped, subconsciously pressing the short man to himself in an act of comfort. He would, Eric had no morals when it came to getting what he wanted. If that meant removing Disarray from the question, then so be it. "I… no." It sounded like he was the one asking a question, not answering it. "He… he wouldn't go that far, I don't think. Where does the kid live? Like, the area, not his address."

"He's in Valverde, a w-ways away from us. I can't just tell him t' move! But if he's in danger… oh I wouldn't know what to do with myself!" Little hiccups sprouted from the smaller man, and Kenny had the sudden and unexplainable urge to coo at him and cuddle the little body until the sun fell. He kept that to himself though, sort of understanding now why Stan was such a sucker for Kyle's affection and immediate attention, ever since they were babies. It felt right, weirdly enough. Even if he's only known this man personally for maybe two hours, there was a spark he could feel, a light switch that went off. Brushing his fingers through the others hair, carefully shushing him like he would for Karen when she had a nightmare. It was odd, wasn't it? Kenny's brain decided the prime time to blush over Butters, also happened to be during probably one of the worst realizations of said man's life. He was crying, gasping for air while hyperventilating, and Kenny was over the moon in his own personal little fantasy world. Goddamnit, dude. Why did feelings have to be so… complicated? He never felt like this, during hook-ups or one-night stands, nothing. What made Butters so different?

"Look, babe. I can't do much about Eric without knowing exactly where he is, but I can offer protection. Remember the deal? We can find some other place for you to stay until everything's dealt with, you can even bunk with me." It was a genuine offer of safety, and a desperate act so he could potentially get to know the other better. That sounded like a win-win in his books.

"Okay. Okay." He let the man breathe, rubbing his hands against the small of his back soothingly. "Could you, m-maybe, not tell the others I cried like a baby?" Butters sniffled, rubbing his eye with a hand, wiping the tears away.

"'Course. I'll just say Eric found out where you were living, we can figure the rest out together, okay?"

"Yeah, o-okay. Thanks, Ken."

…

"No! But like, I'm saying if all else fails I could be a stripper."

"You are not going to be a stripper, Kenny." Kyle scoffed, Ike expertly balanced on his hip as they walked down the street. Stan tagged-along as well, clutching the redhead's free hand like a life-line. The dirty blond laughed heartily, Karen on his shoulders. She was currently braiding the long strands of his mullet, happily distracted from their conversation.

"Aw, come on, dude! You can't be my mom all the time, I bet Stan would love you on the pole~" The noiret flushed red, his tan skin turning red in seconds. Kyle squawked, his face steaming in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

"I'm gonna kill you, man! You are so lucky there's kids around!" The threat was empty, devoid of any real resentment, and Kenny just kept on laughing. They arrived shortly, back to the cafe where Butters worked. Hey, they sold good shit, and hired surprisingly cute waiters. Even if one just so happened to be a villain.

"We're here." Stan muttered, still red in the face from earlier. They entered through the automatic doors, being greeted by a tall, black haired man that certainly wasn't the twitchy blond from their last visit.

"Oh shit, Craig? THE Craig Tucker?" Kenny asked, a shocked look on his face. Craig seemed mildly surprised, not that anyone could tell. He didn't think much about the other name of the coffee shop, it wasn't like Tucker was a rare last name.

"McCormick, wow." He spoke, still with that nasally voice.

"You two know each other?" Kyle piped up, raising a brow.

"Yup. And I wish we hadn't. I thought you would have recognised my surname. Disappointing, Kenny, really."

"Fuck off, is that Tweak guy your boyfriend?" He meant it as a joke, not expecting an honest answer.

"No, he's my husband. We've been married for a year or two now."

"Wow, congrats I guess!"

"Whatever, what can I get for you?" Kyle placed Ike into Stan's arms after learning the young boy's order, smiling as Karen told him hers. He shooed them off afterwards, the group naturally finding themselves sitting at the same table. When he returned, the redhead again explained that a waiter would be giving them the food, and Kenny hoped it would be Butters. They had decided it would be best for the shorter blond to stay with Kenny awhile, as Karen and Ike had semi-permanently relocated to Tolkien's parent's house in Nebraska. Because of the dangers currently residing in Denver, it was their safest option.

"Is everything okay with the move-in, Ken? We're here to help if you need it." Stan started, leaning into Kyle. Those two were so touchy-feely it was both adorable and unbearable.

"It's all good, we've just started so there's still a lot to pack and move around. I think we're okay, but an extra pair of hands might come in handy later." Quiet steps walked towards their table, and Kenny looked up. There, in all his precious glory, stood Butters. A metal tray holding their things in one steady hand.

"Heya fellas!" He chirped, and the dirty blond grinned. He was still curious about his eye, seeing as it was now back to green, and the scar he typically had was now covered up by makeup, if Kenny had to guess.

"Hey buttercup, fancy seeing you here, huh?" He smirked.

The other blushed, shaking his head with a little grin. "Mhm, totally. A-all your things should be here." He began handing out the food and drinks, pausing as Kyle asked him a question.

"So, I'm wondering. Do you wear contacts? 'Cause you didn't have a green eye this morning."

"Huh? Oh! T-this is a glass eye, see?" He widened his eyes, tapping the right one with a nail. It produced a clinking sound that had the freckled man cringing, screwing his eyes shut until the noise stopped. "I have a couple different ones, so I switch 'em up w-when I get bored."

"Really? How did you lose it? Uh, if you are willing to tell the story, that is." The noiret stuttered out, watching intensely as Butters nodded.

"Ah, w-well, when I was a kid, maybe eight or nine, another boy threw a shard of glass real hard at my eye. H-he didn't mean to! Said it was an accident, b-but I don't know. It hurt for a long while, but now I kinda forget it's there, heh. It did leave me as b-blind as a mole rat on my right, though." The man smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not the nicest tale, b-but it's mine."

"Jeez, even then, I'd be really pissed at that kid."

"You're always pissed, Kyle, that doesn't count." Kenny jokes, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

"Shut up, at least I'm not the one who wanted to be a stripper half-an-hour ago."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Butters! How's the moving? You think you'll be all set by sunday?"

"I'm sure I'll be done by t-tomorrow. I've k-kinda been losing sleep recently. Must be the jitters, I always get them w-when I'm paranoid." The man knocked his knuckles together, and Kenny felt the innate urge to hold his hands, keeping the shorter man from bruising himself. But he couldn't, not now.

"Great! Call me when you are, I can come and pick you up." Butters smiled, filling the other man's very heart with sunshine. He was quickly called to another table, waving his goodbyes before rushing off like last time.

"Ken?" Karen spoke up, "Is Butters your boyfriend?"

"What? Kare-bear, where did you get that from?" Kyle smirked, holding his laughter as Stan snickered. Even Ike was giggling, damn Broflovski.

"'Cuz you were all nice to him! And you got all happy when he laughed!"

"Sunshine, I do that for my friends too, ya know." Kenny was tittering between the edge of blushing and staying composed.

"Yeah, but Stan likes Kyle and I heard you talk to Butters over the phone. You were flirting with him left and right, Ken! I know you!" The noiret coughed, and he found some kind of satisfaction from his sister getting them back. Even if Karen was completely right, in the way that he liked Butters. Was he really that obvious?

"Hey, she got you there, man!"

"She got you too, loverboy!"

Ike watched curiously, his eyes sparkled at the chance to tease his brother. "Kyle! You and Stan aren't together yet? God!"

"Ey! I didn't teach you to speak like that, munchkin! And for your information, no, we aren't dating."

"Not yet." Kenny uttered, and Kyle flared up while Stan rested his head on the porcelain table, defeated. The kids were going off strong, and the dirty blond jumped in as they made fun of the dating-but-not-dating pair. Even if that meant he had to bear through his own bashing, whining about how it was unfair to gang-up on the one man. "You can't do this! It's going against my boundaries, man! My boundaries!"

"You don't have boundaries! The only boundary you have is to not get actually killed in bed!"

"Hey, I'm just saying. If it's you sitting on my face I might allow it."

The kids groaned as Kyle rolled his eyes, accidentally snorting and setting off the table once again. Yeah, Kenny decided, this was the life. Now, to get a boyfriend.

Chapter Text

He paced, trailing one side of the room before turning sharply and retracing his steps. Back and forth, back and forth. The others listened, as they always did, with sharp eyes and sharper weapons. "And, for these reasons, I urge you all to stay at home until I deem this space safe enough for your return. Payment will still be delivered weekly, and I'm hoping to clear up this little… 'situation' by the end of the month." He paused, staring straight ahead now as his men whispered to each other. One cleared her throat.

"But sir, what about you?"

"I will be just fine, Yvette. The agreement between us and the heroes lasts until this case is closed. Until then, I am considered a part of their team. They won't be a threat. Any more questions?" No one moved, as silence suffocated the room. "Good, this meeting is over. I will update you further with any unwithheld information whenever I can. Thank you." Chairs scraped against the concrete flooring as people stood up, wishing each other farewell before slinking into the darkness of the hall outside. Disappearing like shadows in the night, silent and gone within seconds. "Dougie? You'll be stayin' with your auntie, r-right?"

Chaos turned to his left, addressing the taller individual at his side. "Yeah. I'm transferring schools there until I get back."

"W-well, that's great! But you should be hurryin' on back now, m-mister! It's gettin' late."

"Will do boss, thanks." With a pat on the shoulder, and a little promise to call whenever, Dougie, too, disappeared into the darkness outside. Chaos sighed, looking around the office for anything to sort out and clean up. He rolled up the few planner sheets strewn precariously around his desk into a cupboard, locking it just in case. He needed to return soon, sure Kenny was bound to start wondering if he came back past ten. With a once-over on the room, Chaos flipped the lights off and swiftly left the room. His heels clicked with each step, sharply reverberating off the daunting halls. There was something off with the place, the blond noted, it felt like a forest gone silent. Where not even the crickets chirped, nor did a single tree dance with the breeze. He walked a little quicker, examining the tight space in a desperate attempt to reassure himself. He was safe. He was okay. It really didn't help that Chaos could only see through his left.

There was a scratching, then a giggle as Chaos paused in his stride. He bristled, glaring at his surroundings in hopes of scaring off whatever was following him. It laughed again, a shriek of a laugh, one that sent cold chills down his spine.

Then it spoke. "Ohhh! You'll make good money! GOOD money! Good, good, GOOD!"

"Who are you? What do you want?" Without much effort, Chaos kept a calm tone and stance. His jaw tightened as it giggled once more, heaving a raspy breath.

"The fame, THE FORTUNE! Boss's promise. BOSS'S PROMISE!" Chaos tried to identify the voice, but it seemed to echo from every direction. This crazed person was slowly proving to be a threat. "Just IMAGINE IT! YOUR LIFE for the price of MY INFAMY! Haha… HAHAHAHA!"

"What… what boss? Show yourself!" He spun in a circle, searching the walls and the ceiling for his perpetrator. He could hear the scratching of movement, the pitter-patter of hands and feet hitting solid ground, yet his sight was clear. Nothing came. Nothing followed.

"Boss? Oooh, the big fella, AY? Said he'd make me rich for a LITTLE PRICE! AHAHA! YOU! BOSS'S PROMISE." A heavy weight landed on his shoulders, and Chaos came tumbling down with the speaker. He kicked 1out, hitting a solid surface. The figure stumbled back, he could only see a flash of red before they launched at him. A knife swung just inches away from his face, digging into the concrete around him. They raised their arm for another shot, but he acted quicker. With a grunt, Chaos shoved the figure off with his legs, heaving himself up just as they backed off.

He stared down at the man, red hair, freckles, tall. He almost looked like Kyle. That is, if Kyle was a teenaged disaster with schizophrenia and a serious growth spurt. Crazed, amber eyes glared hungrily at his form, charging with a yell. "Don't you get it? DON'T YOU GET IT?" Chaos dodged, slowly walking towards a room exposed to the outside as the guy stumbled. "Millions, billions, TRILLIONS!"

"So what?" Just a little more.

"So what? SO WHAT?! SUCH A LITTLE PRICE FOR A BIG PAY! Don't worry! You'll get a little b-ACK!" He punched the stammering redhead right in the nose, crimson leaking from the appendage. Before he could spit out anything else, the shorter blond leaned back and punted him right between the eyes. He landed on the ground with a heavy thud, weapon clattering from the impact.

"I am NOT a cheap whore! I won't settle for anything! Especially if it's 'just a little bit.'" Chaos huffed, electricity encompassing his hand in anger. The guy was knocked out cold, he realized, probably suffering from a broken nose. With a groan, and a little shuffling, Chaos typed a number into his phone.

"Hello?"

"We uh… h-have a problem."

…

Red and white reflected off his face as Red Racers played quietly from the TV screen. Kyle was slumped against his couch, tiredly watching the show as Stan complained, head leaning against his thigh like a makeshift pillow. "I mean, season one to like… twelve were fine. But then they introduced that weird romance subplot in season thirteen and it all went to shit. Like, it's a racing show? I don't get it, man."

"Eh… they had to have something else happen in the show, I guess. It's for kids, dude." Stan groaned, poking Kyle's ankle from his spot on the carpet floor. The redhead played with his hair, shrugging. "Ask Craig or something, Tweek said he binged the show as a kid."

"I think he'd beat me up, Ky. Guy seemed kinda mean."

"He's just awkward, Stan. I don't think he'd- oh, Kenny messaged me." Kyle unlocked his phone, glancing at the untitled picture sent by 'kenny:D'. The blond gave no further information. Stan cocked his head back, looking up at the redhead.

"Is it a dick pic?"

"Knowing him? Probably." He clicked the image anyway, opening up to a picture of a tied up man, clearly unconscious, with the caption, "do u think this is scott???"

"Dude, look at this!" He passed his phone to the noiret, watching for his reaction.

"Sick, dude. What happened?" He handed the phone back as Kyle began texting.

"Let's see."

kenny:D
What happened, man?

he attacked b, p sure it had to do w money or smth.
b said the guy was talkin crazy like

That's concerning. I'm pretty sure it's Scott, but who knows.

"He tried to fight Butters, and uh… clearly didn't win. And he's calling me, clingy bastard." Kyle accepted anyhow, turning the call on speaker as Kenny's voice rang out.

"Hello?"

"Hey. What's going on?"

"Oh. Oh shit lemme just—" the blond fiddled for a minute, before humming in approval. "Okay. So, uh, Butters got fuckin', like, stalked 'n' shit." The man was clearly tired, slurring his words like a drunk person on their fifth beer. "We're gonna drop th' guy off at the police station then dip."

"Yeah, that's cool. But, how did Scott even get to Butters? That's my question." Stan asked, shuffling up closer to the phone.

"Eric? I don't know, man. I mean, it wouldn't make sense since he killed his parents 'n' all but—"

"HE WHAT!" Another, higher-pitched voice asked. Kenny snickered as Butters rambled on.

"Yeah, when we were eight Scott pissed off Eric for some really stupid reason so he got a farmer to shoot them dead. Then, he cooked 'em into lasagna. Or was it spaghetti?" Even if the pair couldn't see them, Kyle imagined Butters' horrified face as his short-term roommate told the tale in a calm manner. Yeah, they kind of seemed like the villains now, huh?

"A-and that's just… normal? Y'didn't… do a-anythin'?" He stuttered.

"Okay, in our defense Eric would've cooked us as well if we said shit, so."

"I… okay. But, if Eric did k-kill Scott's parents, why would he e-even work with him afterward?"

"Who knows. Maybe Scott didn't realize." The redhead suggested, receiving a hum in reply from Butters.

"M-maybe. He was callin' whoever was gonna l-loan th' money 'boss'. Never said a n-name." The fair blond added, "well, let's g-get 'im to the station, Ken." He talked, voice muffled as he didn't speak directly into the mic. Said man hummed, clearing his throat.

"Well, boys, we're gonna throw him to the dogs." Kyle's heard that one before, in his middle school's library books from the 1900s, that is. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yup, see ya. And get some sleep, yeah?" Kenny snickered like he had been told a bad joke, cutting the call as Butters muttered his goodbyes.

"Bye!" Stan yelled, tackled by Kyle seconds after for being too loud. "Ow!"

"Shut up, dumbass!"

…

He watched attentively as Tolkien tapped away on the computer. Only catching a few obscure sentences back and forth before the email was sent. "Did they respond yesterday?" Kenny quipped, sinking deeper into his desk chair as the other man looked up.

"Yeah. Just some schmuck on their forensics. We did, however, get an update on Tenorman."

"Oh?" Kyle murmured, "what'd they say?"

"He's fine for the most part, just some damage from Butters knocking him around. Nothing wrong with his body, he's not dead, just insane I guess." The dark-skinned man shrugged, his almond-coloured eyes looking around in boredom. "They're putting him in therapy, said there wasn't much to question him on. Apparently, he doesn't remember what happened."

"It sounds like he just had an episode," Kyle spoke, "I mean, the boss thing is odd and all but you can't trust someone who's completely out of it." The others hummed, staying quiet as they thought.

"But, what if it wasn't? I mean, memory loss is a little sketchy, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but he could also just be lying. Why would he own up to it when he could plead insanity?" Kenny sighed, his hands sinking into his rattail of a hairstyle. "I am way too tired to deal with this right now."

"We know, Ken."

"I need more sleep, man."

'We know, Ken."

"Shut up, smartass." Kyle snickered, his arms rising above his head to stretch. The office door rattled for a moment, before a short, breathless figure walked in.

"H-heya fellas. I uh, brought some coffee."

"Butters you are a Godsend, holy shit. Marry me?" Kenny's lumbering figure stood,snatching the cup with his name written on it and squeezing the other man's waist to his. He giggled, handing the other drinks out while speaking.

"Aww, Ken. Sure."

"Woohoo! I got married, hoes!"

"Tolkien and Nichole got married last year, dude, and Clyde's engaged to Bebe." Stan deadpanned. The taller blond simply rolled his eyes, waving a hand.

"Least I don't have a crush on my best friend." The noiret groaned, flushing red as Kyle only huffed.

"Let's not argue first thing in the morning, yeah? We still need to figure out whether or not Scott's connected to Eric or not." They nodded to Tolkien, settling back down as Butters took a seat beside Kenny. "And uh, where's Clyde and Jimmy?"

"Clyde had to help Bebe with something, I think Jimmy went for a check-up to the doctor's office."

"Is he okay?"

"Should be."

"Alright. Well, Butters, you were the person Scott was targeting. Can you tell us what exactly happened?" All eyes shot to the short man, his lips quivering.

"O-oh, well uh, it was maybe nine-forty when the whole thing happened." Kyle took notes as he spoke, underlining times and the few words Butters could remember Scott saying. It sounded like the man had been on drugs. Rambling about earning money in exchange for Butters. Was this Eric's doing as well? "We threw 'im in th' station 'n' left, I-I'm lucky they didn't see me."

"That… whole thing is concerning. Why would someone benefit from capturing you? Was it a human trafficking scheme? Eric's creepy experimental shit?" The redhead muttered, his eyebrows creased, heavy and thinking.

"Wish I knew."

"We might have to go back and- why do people keep messaging me when I'm talking, god." He fished the phone out of his pocket, angrily checking the notifications.

Bebe$$$
hi hunny, i have some exciting news…

Chapter Text

Bebe$$$
party in two weeks!!! u can bring a partner, im inviting everyone!

"What is it?"

"Just Bebe." Kyle huffed, shoving his phone back and looking up. "What I was going to say is that we could go to the police station later today and ask for a file? They hopefully made one. Which station did you even drop him off at?"

"The uh, the one in Boulder. Fuck," Kenny rubbed his face, nose scrunched in annoyance. "The one Yates is in."

"Dammit. I knew this was gonna happen sooner or later, but now? Christ. Okay, we'll head over at two. So meet me at one-thirty. Butters, just put an eyepatch on or something so he doesn't get any ideas." Tolkien instructed, massaging his forehead. "It'll be a fast trip, in and out. I'll show my ID so they know. Kyle, please don't eviscerate anybody. Stan, no. I know that look, you are not egging Kyle on. Kenny, just don't. Butters, you watch him. Okay, everyone understand?"

"Yessir." The dirty blond saluted, a lazy grin etched onto his face. Kyle rolled his eyes at the reprimand, giving back a 'no promises' look. Stan just shrugged.

"How'd you two end up in Boulder anyway?" Kenny's lips became a line, his eyes squinting as he thought."

"Oh. The station closest had a problem with their holding cells, remember? We just ran to the next one and it happened to be Yates'."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer given. "Alright. I'll message Wendy to take over for the day while we get ready. Stan?" The redhead nodded to the door, and his friend sat up. They left as a pair, with Stan's hand resting against the small of the younger's back. "See ya!" He called over his shoulder.

"Bye!" The door clicked shut once they were gone, leaving the three remaining men.

"Well, guess that's our que. See ya, Tolkien! Come on babe." He left with Butters just as quickly, taking a separate route downstairs. They left for Kenny's house, and the shorter blond's temporary residence. He found himself liking the apartment, really. It felt like home, and not just a place to eat and sleep. Kenny unlocked the door, sighing before closing it up again as they entered. He kicked his shoes off, a battered pair of airforces, as did Butters. "We have some time to kill. You wanna do anything?"

"Hm? Oh, n-no thanks Ken. I might just take a l'il nap." Butters shrugged, his eyes drooping every few seconds.

"Alright. You can sleep in my room if you want. I'll just do some light work in the meantime, c'mon." He nodded his head down the hall, leading them both to a bright room with the sheets unmade. It looked concerningly comfortable, and the fair blond sunk in. He looked tiny covered in blankets and pillows, and Kenny snickered as he sat at his desk, opening an old laptop that had definitely seen better days. "I'll wake you up when we need to start heading out, yeah?"

"Mhm." They sat in comfortable silence as Kenny worked and Butters slept. The gentle typing of a keyboard lulled him to dreamland. 10:00 turned to 11:00, and 11:00 became 12:00. The sleeping man shifted, blinking his eyes open with a moan. "Ken?"

"Morning, babe. You sleep well?" The dirty blond teased, and Butters huffed. He rolled over, facing the taller man with the covers still around him like a cocoon.

"Sure did." He rubbed an eye, sitting up straight. "What time i-is it?"

"About…" The man looked at his phone, "twelve o' six. We have another hour and a half until the guys want us. Did you dream about anything?" He changed the subject, spinning around to face the man.

"'Had a dream a-about m' parents, actually."

"Oh? What about? How are they?"

"J-just an old memory. A-and they're uh…" Butters brought a finger to his throat, sliding it across in a slicing motion, "dead."

"Oh." Kenny looked down, silent. "I'm so sorry."

"Meh."

"Meh?"

"I never liked them." The blond frowned, his knuckles beginning to clank together. "They were p-pretty shitty, heh."

"What… happened?" Kenny pulled his chair a little closer to the bed, "if you don't mind uh, telling the tale."

"Well, I was about thirteen at the time." He was stuck between his father and the kitchen island. His mother a few feet behind him. They were using him as a boundary of sorts, he felt like a meat shield.

"You monster! I don't know why I even married you! First it's the gay clubs and now you want to sleep with Gerald?" She was shrieking now, tears streamed down her face like they always did when she was stressed. She hadn't been the most sane before meeting his dad, and now she was simply out of it entirely. They came closer to each other, and, unfortunately, him.

"I didn't sleep with Broflovski and you know it! You're freaking out for no reason!" He hissed back. Butters shuddered, attempting to get himself out of the crossfire without success.

"Then why did Sheila call me two hours ago saying she saw you and her husband in the same bed?"

"So we're not allowed to sit together now?"

"You were naked, Stephen! I'm not dumb!" Butters ducked down, crawling on his hands and knees closer to the island and pressing his back to its wooden boards. They advanced, not allowing him to create a larger distance. His parents looked like animals, predators ready to strike. Stephen grimaced.

"Oh, I see. So when Leopold decides to be a gaywad you excuse him, but one misunderstandin-" He was cut off by his mother's frantic screaming.

"It wasn't a misunderstanding, you manwhore! And don't bring Butters into thi-"

"He's a damn slut, Linda! If we didn't dress him those kids at school would've-" Butters was starting to hyperventilate, cuddling up to a cupboard as they redirected their shouting to be about him. It was always about him. Always 'Butters this, Butters that'. Would they ever shut up?

"Atleast he's not as big of a slut as you are, Stephen!" His vision was beginning to blur, voices mixing into one as he rocked back and forth. He could still hear a fraction, just random jumbled syllables and sounds.

"..."

"..."

Butters thinks his mom swipes at his dad first. She must have grabbed one of their knives, as a splatter of blood sprays onto his cheek. Tears cover his round face, causing his shirt to dampen as they reached his neck. "...fucking crazy bitch!" Was he going to live through this? Would they turn around and hurt him too? Probably. He covered his eyes with pale hands.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!"

He shut his eyes tightly, something filling his veins with adrenaline. Please, please, please. Stop it. Shut up.

"...not the problem here…"

"Shut up." The blond murmured, his figure going still. Stephen panted, holding his injured arm.

"What did you say, boy? How dare you t-"

"I said, shut UP!" Something nauseatingly bright and flashy crashed from their ceiling, surrounding the adults in the room. Lightning crackled around his shaking hands, and Butters could only stare as the electrical charge transfered between his fingertips. He looked up finally, spotting the bodies of what used to be Linda and Stephen Stotch. Their persons charred and steaming, purple and yellow blanketing them like tattoos. The fire alarm began ringing at some point, pulling him out of his stupor and forcing him to leave.

He needed to go, now. It might just be his only chance of freedom.

A strange feeling filled his head, one of peace, of sanity. The monsters were gone. He would be okay. But right now, he needed to leave. Even as tears poured from his eyes, and he stumbled to avoid their bloody bodies, he would be okay.

"The uh, the town s-said it was just some huge misfortune. Never thought to ask th-the kid, heh."

"So… you killed them?" Kenny was having a hard time swallowing everything. He cocked his head back, rubbing his eyes vigorously. "What… the fuck."

"I didn't mean to! It just, happened. O-ofcourse I felt guilty afterwards, but… I had t' keep moving." Butters sighed, his knuckles rapping against each other. "I'm a v-villain, Ken. Just because I don't l-like bein' all big 'n' mean all the time don't m-mean I can't be."

"I-I guess. It's just, y'know, I look at you and I don't think 'yeah, bet that kid could kill a man.' It makes sense though, I mean, Kyle almost killed Eric a few times by accident, but… That's Kyle." He breathed in, splayed out on his chair. They sat like that for a while, breathing gently as the wind picked up outside. "I won't tell anyone, not if you don't want me to."

Butters looked surprised, nodding without saying a word. His knuckles were bruised red, being gently rubbed after knocking against each other for some time. He was still thinking over everything, having just woken up before delving into memories that haunted him the most. They weren't coming back, he reminded himself, not ever again.

"You uh, you said your dad slept with a guy named Gerald, right?" The dirty blond finally spoke, somewhat quietly, with amusement in his tone. Butters was startled at the sudden question, but answered anyway.

"Uhm, yeah. Gerald Broflovsomething." His parents were friends with some other families in their town and around it, although he never met them, or even cared to acknowledge them. He had bigger problems to deal with then figuring out who his parents cared about. And that list would sadly never include him.

"Broflovski? That's-" he chuckled, nothing grande or loud, just a sound of quick laughter "-that's Kyle's dad. Gerald. I knew his parents cheated but damn."

"T-that was Kyle's dad? Oh hamburgers, I didn't know that!" Butters covered his mouth, stuck between whether he should giggle or frown. He was glad for the change in conversation, though. It made him feel less awkward, less out of place. For just a moment, it made him feel normal.

Kenny smiled, his eyes soft. "Did you ever meet Kyle? Or any of us, I guess."

"No, no. I… I wish I had. B-but we lived up north, I didn't kn-know many kids my age." He shrugged, unbothered and strangely content.

"North Park, huh? Yeah, we were all down south, the three— or four I guess —musketeers. Heh." Kenny shook his head, as if reprimanding those four kids. The kids they all used to be. "I wish we met sooner, really. Maybe everything would be different."

The blond smiled, eyes crinkling. It was genuine. "Me too, Ken. Me too."

…

"Kyle, Stan? Do you copy?"

"We're here, Tolkien. Over."

"Alright, we're ten minutes from the station. I want to remind you all to not cause any problems." Tolkien's voice rang out from the radio in Stan's pocket, staticy and clipped. He pulled it out as he spoke, placing it carelessly on his truck's hood. "Avoid any conversation about Yates' discharge, or just him all together. All we need is the file on Scott and that's it. If they say anything on the cover up, take notes but don't speak, over."

"We got it, man. You go tell Kenny and B, we'll be fine. Over and out." The line went silent, and Stan pressed the gas as red lights turned green. Some older rock song played from the speakers, quiet enough to serve as background noise. "I'm scared." He announced suddenly, eyes looking straight ahead, as if apprehensive of Kyle's expression.

"Why?" Green eyes stared at him, curious.

"Because, like, what if they know what we're doing?"

"With Scott? Or the cover up? It's not like they're gonna say anything, we could tell the higher ups what they did."

"I-I know," he stammered, "it's just… I don't know. Nerves? All this is happening and I'm finally digesting it, I guess." Stan rested fully against the car seat, using one hand to drive and the other to rest against the cup holder. Kyle watched, his own holding Stan's arm comfortingly. "I'm scared something might happen to you."

"A lot happened, it's okay to feel overwhelmed. We all do, yeah?" He gently slid his hand over the noiret's, smiling. "But you can talk about it. And I'm right here, I'll always be. We have a whole team behind us, it doesn't have to be you against the world like it was."

"You're right."

"I'm always right."

Stan chuckled, "when you're right, you're ri-"

"Stan, Kyle, come in. Take a right into that parking lot, the station is just behind that convenience store. Over." The noiret squeezed Kyle's hand, clicking on the radio to speak.

"Turning right now, I'll park beside you. Over and out." He turned sharply, finding a little space between Tolkien's Mercedes and a janky Toyota. "Alright, you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, come on." They hopped out of Stan's pick-up truck, spotting Kenny easily due to his height, and walking around cars until everyone came into view. Butters leaned against Kenny's car, waving them down as he saw them. Tolkien and Jimmy, who had agreed to come, were conversing while the dirty blond played on his phone.

"Is this everyone?" Tolkien asked, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"Should be. Let's go, boys." They formed a mini mob, marching with imaginary pitch forks in their hands towards the police station doors. Its front was a little messy, vines began to form along its brick walls and the large text informing others of its occupancy was tilted a little too far left. Kenny pushed the metal doors open, greeted with blue and white walls and busted lightbulbs. Tolkien walked to the front desk, tapping its cracked wood for the guy to look up.

"Huh? Whaddya want?" The man, half-asleep with coffee staining his shirt, murmured.

"Morning, sir. This is Tolkien Black from the hero institute. Around twelve or one a.m last night a man named Scott Tenorman was dropped off, and we have reason to believe you have his file?" The man straightened up, clearing his throat and wiping some papers from his desk.

"Ah, yes, Tenorman. Detective Yates has them in his office," he pointed to a door that led to the actual station, "through that door all the way down, then take a right and you should be met with his office."

"Thank you, sir. We won't take long." He turned around, nodding his head, "C'mon guys." They followed behind him silently, and the officer squinted at each of them, muttering something about kids.

"You think he recognized us?" Stan nudged Kyle's shoulder, turning a few heads.

"Maybe. It's not like we look all that similar though."

"I guess."

Inside the main sector, around twenty officers chatted, seemingly on lunch break. Only a few looked at the group as they passed, turning back to their lunches and conversations. They kept walking, coming face-to-face with the door in only a minute or two. Kenny knocked lightly, producing a muffled "come in!"

"Officer Yates, we're from the Freedom Co." Tolkien started, shaking the man's hand. His office was fairly large, with cabinets barely closing due to their contents, and papers decorating his desk and on every open surface. "My name is Tolkien Black."

"Tolkien, huh? You grow up in South Park, kid?" The man took a seat, staring up at him.

"Yes sir, we all did." He might as well be honest. "Well, most of us."

"Thought so," Yates clicked his tongue, "I recognized ya. And that's… Stan, Kenny, Kyle, Jimmy and… dunno your name." They looked at eachother.

"Butters, s-sir."

"Butters, that's a new one. Well, Tolkien, I got a question for ya, son. Say, are you rich?" Kyle shook his head, stepping up to speak.

"Sir, we want to conduct an investigation on Scott Tenorman, see if he has anything to do with our case." The man blinked, nodding and humming like he wasn't about to do something very racially motivated. "We were wondering if you'd be willing to give us his file, or send us digital copies."

"I can do that. And this has to do with all that Eric Cartman bullshit?"

"You're correct. Any leads are valuable to us, at the moment." Yates dug his hand into a cabinet, pulling out a thick manilla folder with the words 'SCOTT TENORMAN' in bold printed along its front.

"This has everything. From his birth records to his most recent crimes. Scott's an elusive man, that's for sure." He handed the redhead the file, "Barbrady handles the digital stuff, you can check in with him if ya want a copy online. You kids be safe, yeah?"

"Thank you, sir," Stan spoke, "we will." They walked out single file, closing the door as Jimmy was the last one out.

"Barbrady, I'm surprised." Kenny started.

"Yeah, I haven't seen the guy in a long while. Should we get one?"

"Yeah, might as well. With all this going on it's probably the safest to secure every file. Did he give us a room?" Kyle asked, brushing his hair back with a hand. Stan shook his head, rubbing the base of his neck.

"We could ask up front?"

"O-or j-ju-just wa-walk arou-a-ar-around an-and find him o-o-our-ours-ourselves?" Jimmy quipped.

"Let's just ask, don't wanna look like headless idiots." Kyle led them back around, pausing right at the main hall where most off-duty officers lounged.

"What? What is it?"

"Uh, nothing. It's just…" he stepped out of the way, allowing his friends to see what had stumped him, "I'm a little surprised they all left." True to his word, none of the men they had previously walked passed were there. Leaving a trail of desk chairs and half-closed computer documents behind. It made for a chilling scene.

"Maybe their break ended? Or someone called in?" Stan comforted, looking at the disappearances logically.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Come on, we still need to ask the guy upfront, if anything, he might know where they went." With a little more confidence, the redhead continued in his stride. Kenny took the time to examine the room, food had been left on desks and pushed onto the floor. If they had left on their own volition, they were certainly in a hurry. Stan pushed the door blocking them from the front open, holding it for everyone to silently pass through. Kyle walked to the desk, looking for the man they had spoken to for directions, gasping quietly as he spotted him lying on the ground. "Shit, look!"

A little crowd formed as they stared at the guy, Kyle making the first move to push the office gates open and check his condition. He expected to see blood, or some kind of injury that would indicate why the guy had fallen over. Instead, he found a line of white powder. "Fuckin' big ass… big ass trees man! Y'gotta see 'em, gotta… gotta see 'em."

"What's his condition?" Tolkien asked from the other side of the glass.

"Drugged out of his fucking mind," he pulled the idiot against the wall, so he was leaning against the wall and not slumped over like a dead man. "It's meth, I think. You can come around." The rest of the guys peered into the room, Butters scrunched his nose and turned away. "Someone get Yates in here, he might know what to do with the guy whenever he sobers up." Kenny grabbed his shorter counterpart, leading him away from the scene.

"Should we… call another police station or what?" Stan took photos on his phone, listening as Tolkien spoke.

"We'll get Yates in here first and then call them, I'm hoping he's gotten a bit more responsible with his team. Looking at this though, I'm not too sure." The man mumbled a little more, seeming to finally pass out after a few minutes. "Can you see if they have any water or orange juice in store, might as well get the guy to sober up if we can." Jimmy walked off to find anything helpful, just as Kenny and Butters returned without Yates.

"He's gone, just… fucking gone!" The dirty blond exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. As he said that, the guy blinked awake.

"The, the holdin' cells. Got a guy in there, wanted by some… some other criminal. Big money, big money t' do nothin'. Check the holdin' cells." Kyle and Stan looked at each other.

"Scott!" They left the guy, passed out once more, and booked it down the vacant hall. Following a sign that pointed to a staircase leading down, 'holding cells', it said. Almost falling down the entire thing, Kenny threw the doors open. Being greeted by an alarm busted with gunshots, and an open cell labeled '1106 Scott Tenorman'.

Chapter Text

He had become accustomed to the police sirens, having worked around them did that to you. However, it still left him feeling uneasy; knowing that those familiar wails meant something wrong was happening. He leaned against his car door, itching for a cigarette as the officers climbed out of their own vehicles. Kyle walked over to them for a rundown of the situation, and gave him enough time to guide Butters into the car.

It wasn't long before he had to answer questions, wandering over nonchalantly.

"-And the guy wakes up, tells us Tenorman had been taken from his holding cell by some 'other criminal'. So we ran down to find him. Got a busted security cam and some gun powder instead." The officer nodded, her pen flying across the paper, taking notes. The man at the front desk was currently sitting in an ambulance, speaking shakily as they interrogated him. Either from drugs or jitters. Kenny supposed he didn't really care. Tolkien went back in with a police team to search the place, and his redheaded friend had now tasked himself with calling Clyde to inform him.

"Thank you, sir. We'll contact you if anything happens. A search team should be out right now, and we've got a few dogs running around down there," she pointed to a plain behind the station, revealing officers with their dogs off the leash. Some, not all, he could identify as bloodhounds, and nodded.

"Yeah, that should be good. Give us a call if it ain't enough, we have a lot of people behind us." He checked the time, and, discreetly, his car window to see Butters sitting hunched in the passenger's seat. "I should be getting outta here, Cyber and Fastpass'll stick around for a while. You have any questions, ask them." With a salute, the dirty blond slinked away; weaving between cars until his own came into view. He nodded to the vehicle just as Kyle got off the phone, and the man nodded, holding his thumbs up. He pulled Stan away from whatever he was doing, leading the aloof man back around to his dirt-stained pickup. Kenny yawned, the sun was still beaming from its spot in the sky, only lightly obscured by grey rain clouds. He'd have to check the weather later. He sighed as more cop cars pulled into the parking lot, screeching their alarms and blaring their lights. He wasn't one to run away from his problems, not for the most part, but this was too much for a sleep-deprived twenty year-old. Sending a little smile to the fair blond inside, he called for his partners, "Yo! Meet me at HQ! You have the file, right?" Stan called out an affirmation, and Kyle just held the heavy folder up.

"We'll be there!" Kenny slid into the driver's seat, throwing his head back onto the rest. Butters straightened himself up, stretching half-heartedly in the little space he had.

"Tired?"

"J-just a little."

"Well, we have like… another hour of work. But I can just drop you off at my house right now if you want?"

"Oh, no no. I'd feel r-real guilty. A-and I'm more, um, mentally drained. With all this." The fair blond smiled awkwardly, his eyes not quite reaching Kenny's.

"Ehh, don't worry, babe. We all are." He started the car, an older Mitsubishi model he worked three jobs to raise enough money for when he was nineteen, and pulled out of the bustling lot. "I've seen a lot of shit as a hero, but it was always just… whatever. This though… this might just be the worst of it."

"W-with Eric 'n' all?"

"Yup." Kenny replied, popping the 'p'.

"I… s-suppose I can say th' same."

He hummed quietly, tailing behind Stan's truck all the way back. Some crappy rap song he downloaded a year or two back whispered through the speakers. It stopped suddenly as he parked, shutting the car off beside the pickup. Butters unbuckled his seatbelt, causing Kenny to finally realize he had never worn his in the first place, but shrugged it off anyway. Who was gonna stop him, the cops? "Let's hope this goes by quick."

The Freedom and Co. building seemed even more daunting than before, towering over them like an end boss to one of the many rpg games they used to play as kids. It felt heavy as they entered, unusually quiet for how many people were in the building. He waved to Wendy, who was currently typing faster than Jimmy could run, and jogged up to his group. "So, what's the game plan?"

"Well," Kyle pressed the button for the elevator, brushing strands of red hair out of his face, "the entire police station is, um, gone. So that's our first priority. But we have Scott's file, so that may just have to be pushed aside for now. If we can find out what happened to Scott, which is no doubt connected to Eric, we might just have our guys." The redhead spoke in a fast, hushed tone, shifting his weight from one foot to another as the elevator slowly opened for them. They all padded in, leaning against the rail or standing alone.

"Right, yeah, that sounds great and all but… how?" Stan asked, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Location. Butters, you were the one Scott was after, right? And he said something about getting money by giving you to another guy?"

"Yeah. S-said he'd by m-makin' millions."

"In the scenario where this IS Eric, he wouldn't have sent Scott far if he wanted Butters back in the same day. That means he'd have to be stationed nearby."

Kenny snapped his finger, "The camera, remember?"

"The cam— oh fuck, the camera! We still have it, right? The feed, at least?" The redhead marched right out as the elevator shuddered back open, sharply turning corners until they reached a vacant room. He booted up a spare computer as the others gathered around, logging in and clicking around different files until one came into view. "It's this one." may11202211:54, the damned thing read. Kyle allowed the video to play, fast forwarding until the person filming hobbled upstairs. Just as they opened the door, he stopped, trying to figure out where exactly the entrance would be.

"Okay, uh, someone start on that file. I need to find out where this is." Kyle opened another tab as Stan began to read, scoping the Google maps road view of that street. The mystery door appeared to be the entrance to a concrete storage unit, bolted shut and beginning to rust.

"Well, we know what he wanted." Kyle blinked, turning his attention away from the screen and onto Stan. The taller man was pointing to a paragraph from the text. "On multiple occasions, Scott was found to be working with higher-levelled criminals in exchange for money or drugs; typically psychedelics. In exchange, he would steal valuables and a plethora of other things."

"Makes sense. I think I found the place," he tapped the unit with his mouse, focusing in on the structure, "it's pretty much exactly where Eric came from. Faces the cafè and everything." Kenny leaned in, recognizing the storage unit slightly. He had passed it many times through his career, and would sometimes hear strange scraping noises echoing from inside. But he had always thought it was just someone moving their things around.

"We need someone to read the file and someone else to check the place out. Kenny?"

"Yeah, sure. Buttercup, you should stay here in case Eric pops up. Who knows what he'll do if he finds you. Uhh, Stan. Stick with him and talk to us through the mics, see if you can guide us around. Kyle, you're with me."

"Course."

"How am I supposed to guide you?"

Kenny hummed, "Is there an inside view of the unit?" Kyle shook his head, telling them nothing had come of his search for one. "Damn, uh, you can use the video. Just tell us where to go and shit." Stan reluctantly nodded, looking at Kyle for some kind of approval. The redhead just bumped him with his hip, smiling.

"We'll tell you if anything happens, okay?" Stan nodded, sighing lightly. "On the off chance something does, I'll just pull Kenny into the next room or something." He knew, realistically speaking, that Kenny was the one prone to more danger than Kyle was. Being an immortal made him unable to die in a normal setting, but it had nothing on becoming literal air particles in a fighting scenario. However, that would never stop him from worrying. "C'mon, we're not that far from the street."

Kyle walked off as Kenny patted Butters on the back, running to catch up with the speedy man. The fair blond called a goodbye, plopping into a chair as the door swept shut.

…

"Y'know, I really thought he'd be in some big mansion in Guyana or whatever." They stood in front of the rusted door, Kyle slowly deteriorating the bolt with a bleach mixture. Although, his impatience led him to simply destroy the metal particles entirely.

"Really?" He yanked the bolt out, pushing the screeching door open with a grunt. "I think he'd find a place in, like, Florida."

Kenny hummed, pretending to hold the door open as they both stood. "Ladies first."

"Asshole." He took the first step in anyway, glaring into the inky darkness of the hall. "Great, no lightswitch." Kyle patted the wall around him, fruitlessly searching for something that wasn't there. The dirty blond just shrugged. He pulled a flashlight out of a concealed pocket on his costume, clicking it on.

"Let there be light." Kyle just shoved him.

"Hello? Kite? Mysterion?" A voice buzzed from the blond's headset, and he cleared his throat.

"We're here. Now where do we go… from here?"

"Uhh, okay. Shit-um, just start walking straight."

They followed his instructions, led by the thin line of the flashlight. Dust danced around like flies, and Mysterion had to breathe shallowly if he didn't want to contract something.

"Stop!" They came to a sudden halt, silent as Toolshed spoke. "Sorry, heh. Um, take a right until you reach another split, then take a left. That should be where the room is."

"Christ, okay." Kite took the lead, passing unit after unit until they reached the next turn. He, as Toolshed had said, took a left with Mysterion on his tail. They were led to a single hall, one dim light flickered on and off near its middle. The hooded redhead groaned, walking forwards as if it were a chore. He could faintly see the outline of a doorway, completely dark. Guess no one was home. "Hello?" Kite yelled anyhow, really focusing in on the tiny sounds, hoping to catch something.

"You think he ran?"

"That or he was never here in the first place. Let's check the room, then get the fuck out." Kite and Mysterion tiptoed the rest of the way, flashing their light around to search. It was empty for the most part, dust coated the single metal table thickly, blanketing the many alarming tools lined together in a hurry. "That's a bonesaw," the redhead breathed, examining what he really hoped was rust coating its edges. "Why does Eric need a bonesaw?" He asked as a way to bring some kind of sanity back to the conversation, Kite obviously knew what Eric did with it.

"I'm not even surprised. You think it's the same one B saw?" He paused, then shook his head. "We should've thrown him in with the crazies the second he cooked Tenorman's parents." Mysterion brushed a single gloved finger along the metal surface, examining the grime.

"I wouldn't have had nearly as many panic attacks, dude. We should've seen this coming."

The taller man exhaled loudly, looking around for anything else to go off of. Near the back, surrounded by spiderwebs and guarded by planks of wood nailed to the wall, a single brown door sat. "Dude, look." He marched up to the heavily blocked off area, pulling off a plank almost too easily. "Oh yeah, Eric definitely did this."

Kite walked over, tapping at the rotting material with his knuckles. "Well, let's get all this off, yeah?" He threw down another chunk, adding,"You should tell Toolshed too."

"Yeah, yeah," Mysterion turned his mic on. "Hey, we have something."

"What? What happened?"

"There's this door in the back, all covered up. We think it might be important."

"Yo, I got it." Kite exclaimed, bringing the blond's attention back to the door. He jiggled the knob, finding it to be locked, before simply kicking the door open with a steel-toed boot.

"Cool." The taller responded, way too used to Kite's antics. He strolled in, a single dinky lightbulb hung loosely from the ceiling. They were greeted with a little, moldy room. Painted white over what used to be some kind of yellow, with wires hanging from certain points in the walls. And in the middle, splattered like red wine spilled on a new carpet, was at least a litre of fresh blood. "Oh, lovely."

Kite snorted, shoving Mysterion to the side. "We uh, we have some blood on the ground." He spoke loudly, trying to be heard through his partner's mic. "Looks really fresh too, I'd say like… forty minutes to an hour."

"I… okay. Do I call another police station or something? We have one gone and the other on the scene."

"No, just call Cybernet and tell him this is another lead. I'll get a blood sample and send it in for testing, just make sure someone gets here soon-ish." Mysterion could almost hear the man nod from the other side of the line, telling them he would and to come back once Kite had what he needed.

They really thought it would end there.

…

Kyle thought of himself to be brave. He had always dealt with situations by himself (which wasn't always quite healthy) unless it couldn't be helped or someone else was already there. Nonetheless, Kyle wasn't one to back down.

He had just gotten back to his apartment, the time was nearing midnight as he unlocked the front door (with some struggle). The curtains were already drawn from that morning, which blocked any natural light from entering the room. This also meant he had to blindly feel the wall until the little switch was found. The redhead tiredly kicked his shoes off, throwing his coat on the coach as he made his way to the kitchen.

Kyle opened the fridge, grabbing himself a diet coke before accidentally slamming it shut. He winced, quickly forgetting it as from his peripheral, he noticed something off with one of the pictures hanging by a magnet. It was of him and Ike, taken at least two years back. The photo was a little blurry, but it meant a lot to him. Now, however, it just frightened him.

His eyes were crossed out with red crayon along with Ike's, the words "i know" were scrawled on like it was the vandalizers' personal goal to make them as unreadable as possible. No matter though, because Kyle got the message loud and clear. He inhaled shakily, snatching the picture from the fridge. He left the kitchen, steps quick and weary as he ventured to his bedroom. There were two things he noticed almost immediately: one, his bedroom door, which he always left open, had been shut. And two, the light inside, which he turned off every morning for work, was now turned on.

Kyle decided that tonight, he really didn't want to be brave.

The redhead threw on his jacket, slipped into his shoes, pocketed the picture, and all but ran down the hall. He had almost forgotten to lock the door in his panic, racing down the steps as Kenny did only days prior and following his memorized path to the only person's house he would actually feel safe in right now: Stan's.

He didn't live too far, and had tiredly cracked the door open at Kyle's incessant knocking. "It's twelve in the goddamn- Kyle?"

"Hi— sorry, uh, some things are happening and I think there might be someone in my house and there was this, like, picture of me and my brother that… really freaked me out and—" He was rambling now, panicking as his mind replayed the memory.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, Ky." Stan held the shorter man's shoulders, bringing him to a halt. "Just, breathe and tell me, okay? I'm right here, nothing's gonna happen." The redhead nodded, calming himself down enough to speak. He recounted the details of the last twenty minutes, showing the noiret his picture as evidence. "God." The man muttered, frowning at the sight of it. He shut the door and locked it loudly, as if to prove no one was getting in. He then led them to the living room.

"But it's just… what if something happens to him, you know? I'd fucking kill myself, Stan!" Kyle had grabbed the man's sweater in his fists, tightening his hold as he went on. "God I… what do I do now?"

"No one is going to hurt Ike, Ky. He's like, in the middle of nowhere with Tolkien's parents, and you know they have guards all over the place."

"I-I know." Kyle sniffled.

"So don't worry, yeah? You can call Tolkien tomorrow and ask him, but right now we need to get some sleep." Stan's overly calm manner helped Kyle relax slightly, and he hugged the man close. He wasn't one for physical affection, but Stan was a sucker for it, and immediately wrapped the shorter man up in strong arms. "I'm right here, honey, I'm right here." The redhead just nodded, disregarding the pet name as a way of comfort. It left a warm feeling in his stomach; he wouldn't mind being called that more often, not that Kyle would ever let Stan know.

They left for the bedroom, Stan all but carrying the shorter man up the steps despite his mumbled refusals. "I should call someone… get my locks changed." He muttered into the noiret's chest.

"Do that tomorrow, I don't think they're open right now." He nodded, finally being placed on the bed and let go.

"Yeah, tomorrow."

To Kyle, at least, it seemed like there wouldn't be a tomorrow. But with Stan right next to him, he really hoped there would.

Chapter Text

in the golden light
a faraway sight
where the birds sing warnings
of doves in mourning
lay a party for two
just me and you

the air will turn sour
at the end of the hour
and his carnage will ring
such pretty things
a party for two
just me and you

with intestines as streamers
red and blue beamers
in this party you'll glean
till the sores make you bleed
a party for two

just me and you

☆☆☆

It would be an understatement to say Stan was scared.

He was terrified. Terrified of losing Kyle, of failing and putting them all in more danger than they already were in. It kept him up at night, now especially after hearing about his best friend's house being broken into. They hadn't brought it up the next morning, but he knew it was still fresh in Kyle's memory. He could hear the man calling a locksmith in the next room over, acting nonchalant once he left. The air felt more tense than it ever did between the two, and Stan wished he knew why. It's not like the redhead wasn't allowed to stay over for however long he wanted, hell, Stan would gladly give up his room if it meant Kyle loosened up. Right now, however, wasn't the time for stalling.

"You have your keys, right? And your phone?" The shorter man neatly fixed his tie, ensuring it was tucked under his vest. The belt he wore, which was actually Stan's and not his own, had this leftover portion hanging out that he tried his best to conceal.

"Yes, mom, I'm fine." Stan rolled his eyes as Kyle grinned. "Is that really what I act like?" He flattened his sleeves out, looking up at the noiret for an answer.

"Kinda. But you're more angry with it, 'you get your shit together or I swear to god!'" Stan imitated his partner in a high pitched, almost unrecognizable voice that sounded vaguely like Kyle. The man in question punched his arm, huffing. Today was his state meeting with Wendy, who he was meant to meet at eight. The sky was a dark grey, threatening to rain at any point in the morning.

"Shut up!" Kyle fixed the two strands of curly hair that seemed to never leave his face, and deemed himself presentable. Unexpectedly, he gently hugged the taller man in front of him, causing Stan to blink in surprise but happily wrap his arms around the other. "Thank you. For… dealing with me and all that. I'm not usually, y'know, hysterical."

Stan played with his friend's hair as he spoke, smiling just a little. "Hey, no worries. I'm always here if you need me, and you were just scared, yeah? We all get like that sometimes." He looked the other in the eye, feeling at a loss for words. "You can stay the night again, if you want? I'll order pizza and we can watch some shitty romcom or whatever." Kyle smiled, nodding lightly.

"I'd like that."

The redhead slowly let go, biting his bottom lip like it offended him personally. "I'm gonna get the guys to look into your apartment later, too. Kenny mentioned Eric wrote Butters' address down a couple days ago, it might be connected." Kyle nodded.

"I'm just hoping he's not, like, getting into everyone's house, one by one."

Stan shrugged, unsure of how to answer. Obviously, he didn't want that either. But at the same time, this would mean Eric was only interested in what Kyle and Butters were doing. He'd be targeting them. "Let's hope. Although, I think Tolkien's security measures might just kill him."

Kyle grinned, something real and true. "Serves him right." He checked the time on his phone, "It's almost eight, I should get going. I'll see you tonight, yeah?"

Stan hummed, giving the redhead's shoulder a squeeze, "if I'm not home by the time you get back, just unlock the door. I shouldn't be that long."

Kyle thanked him, rushing down the hall and out the door. Stan sighed, blowing the strands of hair that fell onto his face.

He knew he'd have to get ready soon, but with everything going on, another blanket of mental exhaustion was laid on top of his already lazy mindset. The curtains were drawn, yet they emitted little light due to the weather; looks like he's driving to work today. Walking upstairs, Stan scrubbed away the tiredness from his face with cold water, changing into a sweater and some sweatpants afterwards. Hopefully, they would be laying low and strategizing, he really didn't feel like running around and making arrests on a sunday.

He brushed his teeth, gargled some mouthwash, and threw on a light coat and some shoes. He could hear the distant rumble of lightning, wishing it would stay out of their side of town as he started his pick-up. The streets were near silent, and Stan had to strain his ears to hear the little amount of people walking around. Two teens sat at a community bench, looking like they were about to leave as one picked his bag up from the seat and pulled it onto his back. Some kids were running ahead of their parents as he stopped at a red light, pointing at the heavy clouds.

If it were anyone else, this quietness would seem normal. It was about to rain, therefore everyone was heading inside to avoid it.

But Stan knew better.

He hit the gas, as red turned to green.

…

He wondered how his life would've turned out if he never became a villain. If he never killed his parents, or perhaps didn't pursue crime after the incident. If he found a place to sleep out of someone's pity, begged a store owner to hire him even if he was severely under-aged and couldn't kind of pass as a teen. Would he be on the streets still? Maybe he could've actually become something more, a businessman or a scientist. He would've gotten a degree in business, actually! That is, if he didn't run away at fourteen, steal a laptop, and try his best at schooling despite having no teacher and only a couple of apps and Google searches under his sleeve.

He's more educated than most kids, at least.

Not that Butters regretted his past. That was the major difference between him and many others. You would think that he'd hold some kind of remorse for his actions, and, just slightly, he did. His parents, no matter how horrible and abusive and toxic they were, had still been his parents. But nah, fuck them.

"So, Bebe told me some news and I think it might really help." Clyde started, leaning against the long table. They were currently in a meeting, attempting to plan their next moves.

"Go on."

"Well, you know how she sends out emails to all the people that she invites to her parties? They're all, like, automated and stuff." Tolkien raised an eyebrow, nodding. Butters didn't know that, he didn't even really know Bebe, but the concept wasn't hard to understand. "Basically, since she kinda forgot, Eric was never taken off the list of guests. And so she checked her email this morning and apparently he accepted the invite."

"He did? Talk about an ego." Kenny sniffed, much to the surprise of Clyde. Stan snickered at his remark, followed by the shuttered laughter of Jimmy. It really wasn't that funny, Butters thought, but they had the right to be bitter, and so he smiled.

"Shouldn't this be good news? We know where his next move is taking place."

"Except we don't." Tolkien sighed, interlocking his hands and resting his chin on top. "Just because he accepted the invite doesn't mean he's really coming. Eric isn't… the smartest, but even he understands that we, too, were invited. He could be doing this on purpose to set us up, meanwhile he's all the way in, I don't know, North Dakota or something. We need confirmation that he really is coming."

"So what if he didn't know?" Clyde grinned, his eyes flashing with an unknown glimmer. It had Jimmy perking up, and Kenny tilted his head to show he was listening. Stan looked to the dark-skinned man beside him, as if he had the answers himself. Tolkien shrugged. "He doesn't have any way to contact Bebe, not that he would, since… you know. But! We could simply decline the invite and still come, it's not like we really need the email to let us know. If he's smart enough, he'd check to see our answers, and hopefully feel more inclined to come."

"That…" Tolkien blinked, clearing his throat, "was the smartest thing I think you've ever said. But wouldn't he know Bebe's your girlfriend? And does Eric even know how to hack?"

The brunet shook his head, sure of himself. "He thinks we broke up way back in fourth grade, we weren't really public with our relationship since we didn't need to be. And it's not like I ever chatted with the dude alone so he thinks I'm single, I hope." The dirty blond seemed to hold himself back from making a stupid remark, his eyes squinting as he merely nods. "And I don't think Eric knows how to hack, but he could probably hire someone under a fake alias. If we got to the conclusion that he'd check our emails this quickly, he probably has as well. If he wants to be all mysterious on us, he better do it fucking right."

"I-It's t-th-the b-best pl-p-pl-plan we h-have." Jimmy grinned, giving Clyde a thumbs up.

"You've been thinking about this all night, huh?" Stan chided, his eyes just as tired as the rest of them.

"Didn't sleep. I think Bebe thought I was possessed, she said I was whispering like some horror movie trope, heh."

"Welcome to our world, man. I think we've been singlehandedly keeping Tweek's business afloat. Kyle especially." The noiret man leaned back, his eyes half-lidded. It was quiet for a moment, and Butters felt much older in that time period. It was strange, really. Physically, he hadn't aged basically at all since he first started with his 'hero' work. Mentally, however, it feels like he's years older. He wonders what will happen after everything is finished, tied up neatly with a little bow on top. Will he simply go back to chaos? Remain the villain of the story after Eric leaves his stain? It scares him, just a little.

He's become attached to the heroes, to the people behind the masks, and it hurt. Knowing that, in as little as a month, they might just have to forget that they were partners. That they laughed, and cheered, and cried together. It hurt, knowing soon enough that Kenny would go back to being Mysterion, and whatever little satisfaction he'd get from learning his true identity wouldn't matter in the end. He'd go back to being Chaos, to pretending he hated the heroes, and they'd go back to truly despising him. It hurt, because the tall blond who always seemed to grin at him and fire flirty comments whenever he pleased, would simply go back to the forever angry, frowning man he was before.

But it'd be okay. Butters knew how it felt to be abandoned; forgotten like he was some kind of pet only kept around for entertainment, and nothing more. He'd embrace it. Because his acceptance to working on this case with the heroes also meant his acceptance to going back to their normal dynamic after it was all over. "Hey." He blinked, looking up to see Kenny looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. For now, however, he could lose himself in the fantasy of the present.

"Hi." He murmured back, still a little out of it. The taller blond smiled, his ocean eyes warm yet serious.

"You were out of it for a while, everything alright?" Butters simply nodded, not having the energy to respond verbally. "Someone broke into Kyle's house yesterday."

Immediately, the fair blond went wide eyed and alert. If Kenny sprouted any more subjects onto him without warning, he might just faint. "What!" The other must have realized his error, chuckling and rubbing his neck in apology.

"Sorry, sorry. I really need to stop doing that." He looked more delighted than apologetic, a lopsided smirk on his face.

"Yeah, s-seriously! And w-what's with you 'n' tellin' me 'bout br-break-ins?" Butters slumped back down onto the table, treating the chatter of the other heroes as background noise.

"Seems like they're just our calling, babe." Kenny leaned in slightly, much more relaxed than his counterpart.

"It s-seems they are." The shorter man drummed his fingers along the wood of the table, "w-what happened with Kyle? He d-doin' okay?" He perked up, remembering their original subject.

"Oh yeah, he's all good. Stayed over at Stan's for the night. We're thinking it's Eric, since when isn't it, but who knows. I'll explain in full later, it's a bit more cryptic than our other cases anyway, but for now we're laying low. The police don't know, so Tolkien and Clyde are gonna check the apartment out before he goes back, make sure nothing was stolen or something." Kenny brushed a hand through his hair, manually combing the knots out from his fairly fluffy mullet. "He's gonna change the locks tomorrow, so they're heading out later today." Butters hummed, pursing his lips.

They didn't talk for a little while, no longer than a minute. It was clear the shorter blond had his head in the clouds. "Sometimes," he whispered, so quietly Kenny had to lean in further, "I wonder about things that won't happen." It almost scared him, how frail and faraway Butters looked. Speaking perfectly, without trembling nor stuttering. "And I always feel sad afterwards."

The dirty blond was taken aback, breathing in slowly as he attempted to dissect Butters hushed words. "Butters, seriously, are you okay? We can go back home, let you take a nap or whatever. I think you're a bit…"

"N-no, no, I-sorry. There's just—a-a lot happening and I m-might jus' be losin' it." The man rubbed his face harshly, his hands finding their way to his hair.

"Hey, guys? We uh, might just have a plan." Tolkien spoke suddenly, and Butters turned his gaze from Kenny to the other man.

"Ey! Welcome back to earth, B!" Clyde joked, earning a faux frown from Kenny for stealing his nickname, and a little retort of 'great to be here!' from the other.

"A plan, you say? Well, let's hear it."

…

They stood there, all six of them, in front of what appeared to be a short blond wig, a cropped sky blue t-shirt, and a seafoam green skirt. It had been laid neatly in a row on Kenny's bed, which the four men had silently led them back to, with the excuse of 'it's all part of the plan.' Butters stared at the items with heavy confusion, only managing a scratchy "what."

"I forgot I had that wig. Damn." Kenny whispered, and the fair blond didn't even register the statement until he thought about it.

"So, what do you think?"

"Um, w-well, it's a mighty fine outfit, Clyde, b-but uh, h-how will this help?" The brunet's eyes widened in realization, remembering that he hadn't actually told them the plan yet. Tolkien rolled his eyes, nudging Clyde on.

"Right, right. The plan is , even if we show that we declined the invites, it isn't like we can just walk in and not be recognized. But, if someone goes undercover for the mission, no one will expect anything and we won't freak out guests." He looked quite proud of himself for the plan, and Butters had to agree it was pretty well thought out, but the question was, who would be their fateful subject?

"So who's wearing all that?" Kenny pointed to the clothing, looking around the room for an answer. Stan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Butters. Uh oh.

"Well, we were kinda thinking Butters would fit the role."

"What! Wh-why me?" He switched his glare from the outfit to the taller man in front of him, this wasn't in the contract!

"Kenny's way too tall, he'd be recognized instantly. Jimmy's obvious, Stan's too muscular, and his eyes are pretty rare, I think Eric would tell it was him. Clyde's ego can't handle it, and I have a beard. Also, I'm not putting a blond wig on, man." Butters squinted.

"What a-about Kyle?"

"His hair. And his nose, his features are too exotic. You, on the other hand, are short enough to fit the role, and your pretty androgynous looking. Also, we wouldn't have to tie your hair up since it's short enough to be hidden under the wig." Tolkien shrugged, "I mean, you're only going to wear it for like, twenty minutes to find Eric. We'll hook you up with a mic so we can communicate, and you'll just press a button or something to alert us. That's all."

"W-what about my eye? I-I mean, do we have anythin' t' c-cover the scar?" Clyde nods his head.

"Bebe definitely has some makeup or something you can use. We could probably ask her for help the day of the mission, since the party's starts at midnight." Butters exhaled, accepting his fate. It seems he's been doing that a lot lately. Their mission would start (and hopefully end) saturday of next week; Butters could already feel the exhaustion.

…

The apartment was empty.

Empty, in the sense of undisturbed, if not for a little clutter in Kyle's bedroom. It seems the perpetrator was looking for something, or perhaps someone, as blankets were pulled to the floor and anything that could potentially hide a person was left wide open. Had they not been aware that Kyle had entered the room? Or were they not searching for him at all?

Stan and Kyle sat on the couch, munching on slices of pizza as a show played on the TV. Completely unaware of a small detail Tolkien and Clyde had missed.

Lying on the ground, half-covered by pillows and various other objects was a picture. It was blurry, obviously taken in a rush, and portrayed two people. One, a fair blond in blue, and the other, a redhead in green and orange. Written underneath in bright red crayon, two word had been scrawled.

i know.

Chapter Text

Do you know how loud a mansion full of drunk twenty-year olds could get? If not, it's pretty damn loud. Butters can attest to this.

It was a cacophony of yelling and cheering and shouting. Music blaring from speakers, clinking of beer cans and glass cups. He'd rather be anywhere else.

But, he could not, would not, give up. Even as the too short skirt began to ride-up his thighs as he walked, and he had to distract himself in order to not lick off the lip gloss that tasted like manufactured cherry. Even as the noise became overbearing, and people began to stumble on their own feet. It wouldn't hold him back. The only thing grounding Butters was the earpiece disguised as an earring sitting innocently on his earlobe, and the raspy voice humming out of it. "Butters, hey, can you hear me?"

"Loud 'n' clear, Ken." He cupped his hand to mask the conversation as best he could. although it would probably go unnoticed by most of the residents in the room. There was a mini-bar down the hall, built right beside a huge patio, with glass sliding doors that led to a pool. Jeez, Bebe was loaded.

"Good. Report any suspicious activity you see, and remember, we're right outside the house. If you think anything might go wrong, just press the button below the speaker on your earpiece and we'll come running." He gulped, hoping it wouldn't come to that. He brushed the fake blonde hairs of his wig away from his face, shifting so his skirt wouldn't roll-up as he sat on one of the bar's high-chairs. Kenny had told him to use his real name while they spoke, as to avoid the reaction of someone sober enough to recognize the name 'Mysterion'. Hopefully, it would look like he was on a very boring business call, and not an elaborate spy mission. "Remember, you're not alone in this."

"I-I got it, don't worry." He went silent as a barista walked up to him, ordering a strawberry julius after ensuring it was alcohol-free. The line was dead, so Butters took a deep breath and sat calmly as his drink was made, occasionally glancing around the room so he could keep track of people. Nothing seemed out of place, not yet anyway. A group of young adults chatted in a circle, laughing ever so often, and Butters could hear the coos of people trying to lure a little white dog towards them. It was one of those crusty-eyed ones, owned by every rich person ever. His drink was placed on the marble table with a clink, and he turned back around, thanking the man with a nod.

Butters took a sip, swirling the contents of the heavy glass around as he waited for… something to happen. The sky was dark navy, made only darker by the stained glass of the doors. He hoped it wouldn't rain, especially with the others outside.

He felt watched, almost. The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, as eyes burned into him. Butters took another drink and slowly turned around in order to remain innocuous, glancing at the crowd like he was searching for a friend and not a murderer. But there was nothing, as always. Some folks could match the description roughly, but they always had a major difference. Longer hair, varied facial features, the list goes on. Although, there was this one guy…

He stood in the back, covered mostly by the crowd, standing tall in a corner. He was on the phone, but kept glancing at the window as if waiting on someone. The guy wore some grey dress suit, way too fancy for a party like this, and a matching bucket hat. He looked like he had just stepped out of a nineteen-eighties detective movie, but something told Butters he wasn't on the side of good. His eyes met his, and he quickly returned back to his drink. Slowly, the blond tapped on his earpiece.

"Got something?" Kenny's voice buzzed and he inhaled, making sure the guy wasn't moving.

"I-I got someone. Six foot, I-li'l heavy, hidin' his face." He took a sip, "pretty sure he-he was glarin' at me earlier." Kenny hummed, and Butters could hear as he relayed the information to his group. The man suddenly got off his call, leaning against the wall and glaring at a spot on the wall.

"What's he doing currently?"

"H-He was on th' phone earlier, just g-got off." The crowd shifted and grew, creating a sort of barrier for the guy to hide behind. All the blond could see was that damn bucket hat, and even then it popped in and out like the waves on a beach. However, the man had fortunately (or unfortunately, really) began to trek towards the bar, a weird expression on his face. "He's walkin' over t' me, g-gimmie a second." Butters cut the line, acting like he was innocently fiddling with his earrings as the guy took a seat to his left. Up close, the little blond could see him much better. He had brown hair, messily spilling from his hat, and fair skin. There was something off about him, like an apple covered in maggots, and Butters shuttered subtly. He waved the barista off without a word, hunching over and checking his phone. Butters took a sip of his drink.

The guy turned to him suddenly, and the blond could've gasped had he not held himself back. He remembers vaguely, a week or two ago, about how Eric had heterochromatic eyes due to a stingy operation on his vision way back when they were kids. Kenny described how the brunet told everyone he was born 'better' than the rest due to it, even when his eyesight was left impaired. Butters could see now, the unnatural way they looked. Instead of the glassy state of the blond's false eye, Eric's eyes were matte; cold and dead-looking. He grinned, but it looked more like a showing of his yellow teeth than a polite greeting. "Nice night out, huh?" Butters fidgeted in his seat, smiling shakily. He folded his hands behind his back, so he could hide the little sparks of electricity emitting from them. The man would surely recognize him then.

"Sure is." He really hoped the brunet hadn't picked up on his panic or his accent, the man seemed to accept this however, looking back to his front. Butters breathed out silently, drumming his fingers on the wooden countertop. Should he call this in? Surely Eric would notice his strange tapping on the earpiece and get suspicious. Kyle had warned that Eric was the kind of person to notice and speak out if he thought someone was trying something, even if he was wrong in his reasoning. There was a sudden commotion behind him, and he whipped around just in time to witness as two teens threw each other to the ground, the smell of beer and bad days wafting off of them. Butters wrinkled his nose, turning back only to realize Eric had up and disappeared from his seat. He cursed, clueless to the strangely diluted state his drink was in as he took a sip and looked around.

Eric couldn't have gotten far, Butters wasn't looking for ten seconds max! He was probably lingering around, waiting for whoever he was on call with.

That was strange, he felt… drowsy almost. But it couldn't be, because he made sure to sleep for much longer yesterday so he could be up all night for this. Maybe it wasn't enough, he decided as the music swam in his ears, a distant and echo-y filter to it. Suddenly, he couldn't decipher between the chatter of people to the buzzing of the speakers.

Suddenly, his breathing began to thin, and he watched as the room spun and black spots began to take over his vision.

Suddenly, he had to squint in an effort to stay sober, subconsciously pressing the button on his earpiece to alert the others. He understood that there were voices calling for him, asking questions he could hear the words of but had not the strength to digest them nor answer.

Suddenly, he was no better than he was ten years ago, cowering behind the kitchen island as his parents tore their voice boxes out. And when his head hit the table, and his arms gave out, Chaos wasn't any better than Leopold.

"A nice night indeed."

…

"Shit!" Kenny hissed, alarms blaring as he tried to speak. "Butters, hey, Butters? Can you hear me?" There was only heavy feedback and the amalgamation of voices from the party. "Alright," he cut the mic, turning to the others standing around him, "pick a direction and search. Try to keep the public out of it as much as you can." They all nodded silently, entering the mansion with glaring eyes and clenched fists.

Kyle could feel the panic growing in his system, Butters had become a friend of his quickly, even if they were on opposite sides. It was one thing to worry about his whereabouts, and another when it had to do with Eric Cartman of all people. If that fucker got his hands on him, he didnt know what he'd do.

The folks around him were all drunk off their asses, so he didn't have to worry much about hiding his identity. He ended up near a mini bar, where the bartender was wiping down a glass, inspecting two empty seats with an air of vague curiosity. Kyle decided the man was a good starting point. "Excuse me, have you seen a blond girl, maybe this tall?" The server raised his brow, waiting for an explanation. "She left her phone with me," he pulled out his own, careful to avoid turning the lock screen on, "before she went inside, and I wanted to give it back before she left."

He seemed to accept the reason, nodding to the seats in front of him. "She was here f'r a bit, left with a tall guy who said he knew 'er brother. They walked down that hall," his pointer finger lifted to show Kyle where, "'m a little worried about how she w's lookin', all loopy 'n' shit, but he seemed t' know 'er well, so."

Shit, shit, shit. Just as they begin walking, Eric's already ten steps ahead. Kyle nodded wearily, thanking the man after reassuring him that he's pretty sure he knows the man he's describing, (oh how well he knew him) and walking down the hall as calmly as he could before charging through the crowd. There wasn't much of a lead to go from, Eric could've very easily taken Butters back to his place, but he had an inkling that wasn't the case. From his point in the house, there were two areas he could go to: the staircase leading to the second level of the house, or another hall directly to his right. Kyle flipped an imaginary coin, and made his decision.

He went up.

The music was much quieter here than the rest of the house, obviously not meant to be an extension of the party. The redhead listened for anything out of the ordinary, something to indicate suspicious activity, but was greeted with muffled cheering and growing silence.

The upstairs was built like an upside-down L, with two master bedrooms and a fairly small bathroom in-between. All the lights were off, well, almost all of them. Even with the door being shut, Kyle could see a crack of light illuminating the bottom of the bathroom floor. He knocked.

There was a strange shuffling noise for a minute or two, like an object being placed and manipulated. Not anything light, like a book or a phone, but something heavier, yet soft nonetheless. Like a weighted blanket, or a person.

Kyle knocked once more…

There was no answer.

You'd think they'd have yelled or something, anything to signify they were in there. And yet Kyle stood in unsettling silence. He breathed, lips tugging into a scowl; with patience running thin, and desperation not far behind, he closed his eyes and put his hand to the white door. Quickly, his form went from solid, to airy, to vaguely coloured mist slowly ebbing in and out of reality. The redhead, now nothing more than air, passed through the door with ease. He could see Eric standing on the other side, his hands behind his back as he waited. The bastard was waiting for him, an indescribable emotion written all over his face.

There, laying haphazardly in the pristine bathtub, limbs messily placed in awkward places, was Butters. A bead of blood dried where his earpiece used to be, and there was a bruise on his wrist,purple and ugly. His wig was askew, and the mess made of his clothing was a tell-tale sign Eric had probably dragged the poor thing around. He was, obviously, very out of it. Kyle had seen enough.

The redhead appeared in front of them, a bitter glint in his moss green eyes as Eric grinned like a Cheshire cat. "How nice of you to finally show, Kyle."

"How the fuck did you know?" He spat, eyebrows threading together as he glared at the taller man. He just smiled.

"Whatever do you mean?" It meant a lot of things, really. How did Eric know they'd show when he did? How could the brunet see through Butters disguise? How'd he even know Kyle was the one outside the door? But Kyle was too petty to give the man a straight answer, it was a small win in an ocean of losses. He continued.

"Why are you doing this, Eric? You killed innocent people, and for what? To turn them into your little play things? You nabbed an entire fucking police station for God's sake! For absolutely no reason!" He would be snarling if he could. It just didn't make any sense. "Answer me, fatass! What do you want out of this? What do you get? Satisfaction? Some sick high?" Eric's face was so frighteningly still it caused Kyle to pause, if only for a brief moment. He'd seen all kinds of emotions on the man's face. having grown up with him. But this? This… calm? Never. "Is this all just a game to you?"

"Bingo." Eric whispered, and it made Kyle still. What? "Did you really think I would come out of hiding just to attend some shitty party? That I wouldn't have guessed you would show up as well? I didn't even need to hear about Clyde's little plan to assume that." The redhead's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "No!" He laughed, like an actual maniac, "Oh Kyle, and I thought you were smart. No, I came here for a reason. And that reason was you."

"What." He didn't hear as the bathroom door opened, then closed once more.

"Chaos," he nodded to the unconscious body in the bathtub, "is a powerhouse. He can absorb electricity, from any source! But he has a limit, just like you and I do. You were wrong, when you said he'd kill me, with all that power, he'd actually go into cardiac arrest." Eric clicked his tongue, like that was just a minor inconvenience to him. "But! If I could simply up the amount of electricity his body can take in, I'd also be increasing the amount of electricity he would expel. So, began my experiments."

He remembered the bodies, the strange devices installed into them. Oh god. Those bodies were never meant to move after they were dead, they were never targeted specifically. They were meant to activate once the heart stopped, so Butters would keep moving, keep attacking. "And, in theory, if I could do all this for Butters, I could also do it for anybody else." Eric's eyes bore into Kyle's own. "I could also do it for you." Kyle stepped back, right into the arms of a stranger. "Imagine that, you would never have to worry about holding your breath ever again." The chloroform was already pressed onto his face before he could react. "You'd never have to breathe."

Darkness wrapped its cold arms around his mind, just as the brunet grinned, a crazy look in his cold, dead, dead eyes.

…

Kenny didn't know how it happened. He didn't even know when it started.

Their search was going as well as you'd expect, but Kenny couldn't just stop it all. Even as he checked the living room and the kitchen and the back patio three, four times. Even as the hysteria began to kick in, and his heart thrummed just a bit quicker. His brain had only begun to understand the severity of the situation, had only begun to understand that this wasn't just some little accident, that Butters wasn't safe and sound in the crowd, but alone and in who knows what kind of condition. He was just about to report back to his group on his suspicions, when a high pitched beeping screeched from inside the house. Had someone burnt something?

"Kenny? Are you there?" Stan's choppy voice rang in his ears, and he hummed. "You need to get everyone in the area out, there's a monoxide leak. Hurry!" The tall blond didn't even have the chance to digest that information before his mind went on autopilot and he began to escort guests out. Some were smart enough to leave at the sound of beeping, others weren't so fortunate. He could see as Clyde came into his peripheral, carrying some drunk kid off the floor and out to the front. They left themselves once the stragglers got out.

"What the fuck." He breathed, eyes staring at the mansion with a glazed look.

"Kyle isn't answering the comms!" Stan barked as he ran up to them, "even before the alarms, he hasn't answered!" He sounded distraught, and Kenny would have done more to comfort him if he himself wasn't feeling like a corpse.

"We're down Butters and Kyle, I checked upstairs and everything." Tolkien seconded, a tight frown replacing his normally neutral expression. "Butters said he saw a guy, right? You think it's…"

"That fucking bastard." The noiret hissed, and Kenny had to agree. But Kenny was feeling completely out of it, his eyes focused solidly on the house in front of them.

Kenny didn't know how it happened. He didn't even know how it started.

Chapter Text

Feeling nothing wasn't as pleasant as the media made it seem. It was a humid room, where no amount of fanning with your hand or sitting perfectly still would affect the temperature. Kyle had experienced it too many times to count, yet this instance felt different. This time, he woke up feeling cold. A freezing, static cold.

The room was pure white, identical to those you'd see in an insane asylum. There was a door in front of him, although he felt too weak to even reach for it, and a single yellow bulb illuminating the space. He lifted his head with the strength of a newborn calf, grunting in an attempt to army crawl towards the only door. He couldn't do it. It was probably locked anyway. His breathing was shallow. Goosebumps were building on every inch of his skin. God, why was it so cold?

Kyle inhaled, attempting to disperse into the nothingness his power granted, it wouldn't work. It was too cold. He was too weak. The door creaked open, screaming on its hinges as he glanced up.

"Oh good, you're awake." Eric leaned against the doorway smugly as Kyle bared his teeth like a dog.

"You fucking-" He tried to sit up once more, flopping back down only a quarter the way up, "-dick! What the hell did you do?" The brunet smirked.

"Not much, really. Not yet. Chaos was much easier to sedate, he can't exactly turn to air now can he?" Eric examined his nails with an air of nonchalance, but Kyle could see the psychotic excitement rolling off him in waves from a mile away.

"What did you do to him?" The redhead demanded.

"I… fixed him, really. He's the perfect soldier, just as I intended. And soon," Eric kneeled down in front of his former colleague, nudging his chin up with a pudgy finger, "you will too."

Kyle shoved his head away in disgust, growling as his enemy chuckled. "Kenny'll kick your ass once he and the guys get here." He said it as a statement, but it was really a cry for help. A plea to be saved.

"Maybe. If they can find me." He stood up, walking back towards the door and closing it halfway, "If they can get through you." It slammed shut. Kyle yelled for Eric to open the door, to come back and explain what any of that meant, but the man never returned, as expected. That was when he heard it, a soft hissing coming from the ceiling.

Something was being released into the room! The redhead tried to cover his nose with his hands, but the damage had already been done. Succinylcholine, he could recognize. It stopped all the muscles in your body while keeping you awake to witness it all. He didn't even think the bastard could recite the first three elements on the periodic table, let alone know about an anesthetic. His legs were already numb, and the feeling was growing to his torso and arms. Soon enough he couldn't breathe. Soon enough he couldn't even move his eyes. As arms lifted his body onto a metal table, and a grating voice spoke in his ears, he only hoped for a peaceful death.

He only hoped to see Stan one more time.

…

It was the most serious he had ever seen Kenny.

To be fair, Stan himself was feeling the same things as the blond. He was just better at hiding it; looking more akin to a husk of a man than a vengeful hero. Clyde had his head in his hands, with Tolkien gently squeezing his shoulder, looking no better than the man he was comforting. Jimmy fiddled with his crutches, more than a little awkward and melancholy himself. Stan wanted to be angry. He wanted to be angry at Clyde, at the world and every single damn scenario that had led to this moment. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the brunet's fault that Eric was a hundred steps in front of them at all times. Whatever he rigged or found out information through, they couldn't figure out, it's not like his first thought was to check if they got Butters to cross dress! (Then again, Eric had done it himself some years ago.)

The noiret found it jarring how different Kenny looked. His typical laid-back, silly demeanor was put to rest as a more serious, angry one fronted. He had only ever seen that on Mysterion, which wouldn't make much sense since he IS the same person, but still. A pissed off Kenny was one you didn't want to mess with, considering the man could easily snap Stan's neck despite his wiry limbs and thin frame. But that's besides the point. "They said that the little hideout Eric holed up in is empty, has been since our last time there." The dirty blond spoke slowly, in such a way that it sounded more like a statement of finality than a relay of information. His meaning, however, was crystal clear: they were back to square one. Stan wanted to cry, to scream at the heavens and whatever wretched God was up there, watching his life fall apart with a smile. However, all he could do was breathe, staring out the window.
"What now?"

The others stayed silent, and Stan couldn't blame them. What now? Truly? "Maybe… no." Tolkien sighed.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in." Kenny muttered, just loud enough for the person outside to hear. They walked in, a familiar manilla binder in their arms.

Wendy had always been one for looking professional, it was in her brain since she was a little kid, Stan knew that fact well. Today, however, she looked… rough. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and heavy eyebags hung underneath her eyes. He'd say something if he had looked any better. Her hair, black and always glossy, looked more like aged doll hair. Random strands stuck out from her very messy bun. Poor girl, running the company alone with an entire missing persons investigation on shoulders. Again, Stan would've offered his help if he had the energy to stand for more than ten minutes. "I have a lead." Her voice was weak, overused and strained, yet it was still their Wendy.

Kenny looked up, an eyebrow lifted. "In three days?"

Wendy nodded, a determined look on her face. "I was searching through some older documents, trying to find anything I could on Eric's interest in Butters. That's when I found this," she placed the hefty file on the table, allowing it to land heavily, "it's Butters old timeline, from when we first met him." They all looked over, turning heads and chairs to get a better look. "He said his men had found an old location some time ago, with all those weird tools." Wendy pointed to the photos neatly stacked together with a paperclip. "Well, I found it interesting, and searched around a little. Turns out there's been some activity happening recently, someone even reported that they saw officer Yates in one of the windows of a lower floor." Kenny stood up straight. "It's all just leads right now, but if you guys think it's worth looking at?"

"We'll take it." Stan shot up, a tingly feeling covering his body from the sudden rush of energy. His partners weren't protesting the answer. "Where's it located?"

"Colorado Springs."

The dirty blond ran a hand through his greasy hair, his mind made up just like theirs. "Colorado Springs it is. Come on, we have nothing else to do." Chairs screeched against the marble floor, leaving Wendy alone in the room, a little smile on her face as she shook her head.

The walls were nothing but blurs of colour as they ran, throwing on their hero costumes in such a rush it was like they, personally, were in danger. Boots stomped on pavement, car doors slammed shut, and Stan felt a bit of determination return to him. As streetlights stayed green when they roared passed, and cars were practically nonexistent once they left the big intersections, a weight in his heart lifted if only slightly.

Yet it came back once he saw the building.

It wasn't a small, rundown structure with vines growing on its exterior; no. It was huge, glistening white with barbed wire surrounding the premise. He saw as Clyde squinted, fiddling with the radio he was given. "Hey, uh… guys? Look at the roof." He furrowed his brows, looking at where Clyde had directed.

Multiple people were stationed around the roof's perimeter, snipers strapped to their backs like they were prepared for war. They wore face shields, the glare of the sun hiding any idea of who was underneath. Weirdly enough, they didn't so much as move to look at the three very suspicious cars driving around the building they were supposedly 'guarding'. Actually, they didn't move at all. The radio crackled to life.

"You think they're being manipulated?" Kenny spoke.

"If I had to guess, that or they're horrible at their jobs."

"Hm. Park in the clearing I'm heading towards, I don't think those guys will give us any trouble." They followed Kenny's lead, exiting their vehicles once they were safely hidden behind the flora of the forest. It would've been a beautiful hiking spot if a criminal organization wasn't planted approximately fifty feet away. "We'll enter through the side windows, I didn't see anyone inside but… who knows with Eric." Kenny pulled his mask on, just as Stan adjusted his glasses.

"I can flood the first floor with mosquitos afterwards, see if they can clear out whoever we didn't catch." Clyde suggested, shifting his weight from one foot to another to quell his nerves temporarily. Kenny, now donning his Mysterion persona, nodded. They went back and forth for some time, deciding that Jimmy would scope out each floor beforehand to warn them of anything especially dangerous. However, they would fight as a unit, and hopefully find the rest of their team soon enough. Toolshed steadied his breathing, padding down their self made path towards the windows silently, his fingers clenching and unclenching. Perhaps he was simply biased, but if Kyle, arguably the most strategic and intelligent of them all, and Butters, an actual powerhouse who could have very well ended all of them years before, managed to get snatched, who's to say they wouldn't?

He shook his head, looking forward. Mysterion had managed to crack a window open large enough to fit through, and they all followed suit. It was a very bland interior; white walls, no furniture aside from some tables and a singular desk chair. He supposed Eric wouldn't have needed to concern himself with decorating, since he (hopefully) hadn't been expecting them. There was a click from behind one of the doors, and a man wobbled into view, holding a gun with loose hands. He shot twice, missing by multiple feet. Cybernet took charge, kicking the guy to the ground and holding him there. "Should I restrain him, or? He doesn't look very…" The man struggled, his face showing no emotion aside from the weird twitching of his mouth, "alive."

"Just… tie him up." The man nodded, leaving their attacker on the floor with cuffed hands. They motioned for Fastpass to venture up the stairs as they studied the door the man had stumbled out from. It was an old storage closet of some sort, with a workbench in the middle. The room was empty aside from that, it seemed like the guy had been planted here incase of intruders, not that he did much of anything. They continued upstairs once Fastpass shrugged his approval. This floor was near silent, like it was meant to lull you into a false sense of security, then jump out once you reached the stairs. And Toolshed supposed that thought wasn't too far from the truth. Just as they opened the doors to the third floor, two women whipped around maybe ten feet in front of them. They had matted blond hair, blood dripping from the corners of their mouths and red, bloodshot eyes. It looked like they hadn't blinked in a decade. One of the girls actually screamed bloody murder, charging towards them with killer intent. Her partner followed close behind.

They proved themselves to be much more difficult than the man, clawing and biting at the heroes like wild dogs. Because of their dead-brought-back-to-life states, it wasn't like Toolshed could just hit them behind the head and expect it to be over with. No, they were determined to spill guts, only stopping as one lost her head and the other exploded from the bomb he had thrown in his panic. However, there was no time to breathe, as more and more people flooded the hall, just as determined. Toolshed punched a man's teeth out just as he reached for his eye, roundhouse kicking a brunette who was attempting to climb on his back. He could see the mosquitos quickly filling the hall, watching as Fastpass zoomed past a group and confused them into attacking each other. His nose was filled with rotting blood and charred meat, throwing a man off of Cybernet once he got a little too close. So much for restraining the guy two floors down.

"Toolshed! You throw a bomb down and we all haul ass upstairs!" Mysterion yelled, snapping a struggling woman's neck as she tore into his arm with her teeth. He shouted back, tossing one of his larger explosives into the fray. It would detonate in one minute, just enough time for them to push through the crowd and lock themselves upstairs. Someone pounded on the door, Mosquito holding it shut with his weight. They heard the bomb go off, the third floor becoming explicitly quieter afterwards. They did their best to barricade the door anyway, only pausing when Mysterion pointed at the ceiling. "Look, there's some kind of… railing on the walls."

Toolshed took the time to examine the area. Indeed, a strange railing, similar to that of a streetcar, trailed along the middle of the floor's ceiling. Electricity sparked from the metal, crackling and popping due to how overcharged everything was. Wires twisted around the lining like muscle, it was a wonder whoever built such a contraption didn't kill themself. "Come on, we need to keep moving." Toolshed grunted, beginning to walk down the hall when an ear piercingly loud noise stopped him. It was like the whine of a microphone times one hundred, so loud he had to actually cover his ears.

"Ohoho, look at who we have here. Finally decided to crawl out your holes and come find me, huh?" Eric sneered, his voice echoing throughout every hallway. "Did you miss your precious boyfriend that much, Kenny?"

"Don't say my fucking name, jackass. Now, where did you hide them?" Mysterion barked.

"Hide who, Kenny? I'm not sure I understand what you're saying." Eric was toying with them, biding time. But for what?

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Where are Chaos and Kite. Tell me that right now and I might just spare your pathetic existence." Eric just laughed, his voice causing the mic to screech as he went over the volume it could process. He heaved gasps of air, finding the statement hilarious.

"Oh, oh Kenny. Heheh, you poor, poor stupid asshole. Butters and Kyle aren't HIDING from you, it's actually quite the opposite. In fact, you'll find Chaos right about…" he hummed, "now."

Metal shuddered and cried from down the hall, and they could hear as electricity hit a solid surface. Stumbling forward, strapped by the waist to a metal square that shaked along the railing, was Butters. He wore a simple hospital gown, with a collar stabbing all sorts of things into his neck, some blue fluid pumping through the tubing. His neck itself was bruised and splotchy, blood caked around the wounds made by the collar, and his hands shook like he wanted to rip it off but just couldn't. His hair, as short as it was, looked unkempt and dirty. Blood speckled his face and clothing, and his walk looked more like repetitive tripping, due to the way his knees knocked against one another and his left shoulder kept moving before his body did.

"Butters?" Mysterion murmured, but the man didn't respond. He just kept hobbling towards them, stopping sharply once they were at a ten foot distance. His eyes were wide and staring, tears running down his cheeks, from the way his eyes didn't blink or because he was still somewhat in there they didn't know.

"Well, this sure has been fun and all but I'm starting to get bored. Let's get to the fun part. Now…" A sudden surge of electricity exited the rail and shot to the square cage, causing Butters' body to shake as he was struck, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. "Play nice."

Butters took a shaky step forward, and grinned.

Butters grinned.