Under the Mask

By SJ Norinco

Warning: This fanfic contains some violent and disturbing material. It is an Alternate Universe/Angst fanfic, and contains character death. Reader disgression is advised.

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"That'll be twelve dollars, ma'am."

Kyle took the money from the woman and put it in the register. The woman's two kids immediately grabbed the Lion King DVD she had just rented and began fighting over it.

Kyle Broflovski had begun working at Hollywood Video just a week and a half ago. His parents had pressured him to get a job, and the final push was his best friend Butters giving him a lecture about responsibility and all that shit.

Butters was a great guy, but Kyle often wished Stan was still around. Stan Marsh had been expelled from school during eighth grade for racking up numerous drug-related suspensions. The raven-haired boy had discovered crystal meth in seventh grade, and had continued to use it even after he was expelled. He would often come to Kyle's house, at least until around nineth grade, when he had, supposedly, become involved with some drug dealers. In fact, Stan Marsh hadn't been seen in South Park for over nine months.

Kyle took the money from another customer and handed him his movie. As he placed the money in the register, he took notice of the small handgun inside. Mr. Koyette, the owner, had been robbed twice before, and he had instructed Kyle to shoot anyone who tried to steal from the movie store.

Kyle put another twelve dollars in the register.

"Excuse me?"

Kyle looked at the little kid in front of the counter. Even at sixteen, he could still remember how it felt to be nine.

"Um, could you tell me where, um, where the kids' section is?" the kid asked.

Kyle smiled and pointed. "Over there," he said.

"Thanks." The kid walked away.

Kyle saw it out of the corner of his eye as he turned back to the register. A guy in a green combat jacket, blue jeans, and a ski mask had entered the movie store. Kyle watched him falter for a moment, as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to do what he was about to do. Then the robber reached into his belt and pulled out a machine pistol.

"Th-this is a h-holdup!"

Kyle was surprised by how scared the robber seemed.

As the customers screamed and flattened themselves against the floor, the robber limped over to Kyle. He looked at Kyle, then at the gun in his hand, then back at Kyle again. When he spoke, his voice sounded almost petrified.

"J-just give m-me the m-m-money, man..."

Kyle looked at the gunman for a short moment. Then he bent down, opened up the register, and began putting the money into the plastic shopping bag that the robber had taken out of his jacket pocket.

"Th-thanks..." the robber mumbled.

Kyle wanted more than anything for the robber to just leave. He couldn't bear the thought of having to use the gun under the counter...

The robber did just that. He walked, or rather limped toward the exit.

But he never made it.

One of the customers, a large man, tackled him halfway there, and tried to wrestle the gun from his hand. But the man failed. The robber managed to wiggle away, and then-

BANGBANGBANGBANG!

Four shots exploded from the muzzel of the machine pistol. Two of them, or at least two that Kyle saw, hit the man, and he fell to the floor.

The gunman twitched, and the gun went off again. Kyle couldn't believe how loud it was.

"J-just leave me a-alone!" the robber screamed, and he began to hobble towards the exit again.

Kyle reached under the counter. He felt his hand touch the pistol underneath.

"G-get outta my w-w-way!" the gunman sobbed--Kyle had just realized he was sobbing--as he pushed a customer out of his way toward the exit.

Kyle raised the gun.

BANG!

The robber jerked violently.

BANG!

The robber jerked again.

BANG!

This time, the robber sqeaked and fell to the floor. He didn't move. Kyle dropped the gun and struggled very hard to hold back tears. He had just shot another human being.

As he watched, the front doors opened and two police officers entered. One of them pointed his gun at the robber's dead body, while the other ran to Kyle.

"What happened? What happened?" the cop asked.

"I-I-I shot h-h-him..." Kyle mumbled. "H-he tried to hold up th-the store and I s-shot him..."

The cop nodded understandingly. He helped Kyle around the counter.

The other cop looked up. "He's dead," he told his partner. "It looks like he was high when he did the holdup; his pupils are like pinholes."

"Close your eyes," the first policeman said as they neared the body of the gunman. "Don't look."

But Kyle couldn't keep his eyes shut.

As they passed the body, Kyle had to look. He turned just as the cop peeled the mask off of the dead gunman's face.

Kyle Broflovski gave a horrible sob.

Staring at back him, the black ski mask rolled up on his forehead, was the face of Stan Marsh.

THE END