STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Just a one-shot because the plot bunnies are weird and annoying.
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Killing Kenny
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There were various ways in which an innocent bystander would know when Ray Beech was not in the mood, and as such information is valuable in the survival of many such individuals it is best to take note of them:
The first of which is the solo walk.
When Ray Beech walks alone, that's when you know he's at his most dangerous.
However, one must not assume that because he is not by himself that he is any less of a terror. Doing so will probably lead to the four years of your life getting epically longer.
The second way to know when Ray Beech is nearing a horrendous temper tantrum that could rival (but is not limited to) the bomb dropping on Hiroshima is when his mouth is twisted into a terrifying scowl.
Let it be known that Ray Beech does not scowl on any other occasion but that.
He will smirk and he will frown, and on occasion (if you're paying attention), he is also capable of smiling, but Ray Beech does not scowl. It's just plain unattractive on everyone and in this he is no exception.
The third and final dead-giveaway to his spiraling mood and your possible demise is a simple little vein named Kenny, who pounds with such ferocity that it practically protrudes out of his forehead.
Originally nicknamed Forehead-Hulk, the name Kenny was chosen because honestly, that little vein's a huge popup sign for: Ray's going to be bastard, RUN!
Thankfully, like most diseases identified nowadays, there is a way to reverse such symptoms of possible destruction. Most of them involve taking sick leave, fleeing to Canada and running and hiding for a period longer than Ray's actual bad mood.
However, do not fear, there is one unfathomable cure to Ray's entire bad day explosion and her name is Stella Yamada, also known as the Kenny Killer.
How she got this name is a debatable topic, but what matters is that at present, Stella can't save you.
Other options, therefore, must be explored immediately before…uh oh…
He was stalking down the hallway, glaring at everything that dared to exist in his path and labeling each person in his head as he walked by, "Idiot, Idiot with a beanie, Idiot dressed as a hobo, Idiot wannabe, Regular Idiot."
Every teenager in his line of sight, as if hearing such thoughts aloud, scattered from the irate blond.
No one really knew what causes such bad days in the golden haired soccer player. What on earth did a guy like him have to be angry about anyway?
Ray Beech had literally everything a normal guy could ask for.
He was born with money, had a whole barrage of adoring admirers, cruised around in an expensive car, donned a varsity jacket, was captain of several sports teams, held a spot on the Honor role, was front-man of a band and had a hot girlfriend.
Money, fans, status, athleticism, intelligence, virtuoso and a companion through all of it to boot; yes, everyone wanted to be like Ray Beech, evidently everyone, except him.
The rumor-mill was at it, speculating the cause of his horrible mood:
Some arrogant new player on his team was irritating him. No. Impossible, he's Ray Beech. No one is more arrogant than him.
Some freshman was getting on his nerves for whatever reason. Possible, but not likely; Ray Beech hates all freshmen equally.
His girlfriend dumped him.
Le gasp! That's it, it must be that! If Ray Beech is to be effected by anything it has to be his girlfriend the guitar goddess, revolution rock-star, Kenny killing, Stella Yamada.
After all despite being the guy every other wants to be and every girl would see as a trophy catch, Ray Beech was anything but boyfriend-material. Him and Stella never held hands, were never caught doing anything lovey-dovey and were never in fact seen actually acting like a couple.
She was still the revolutionary and he was still the tyrant. Everyone knew it wouldn't work!
But if only they knew that he was actually looking for the very same girl right now.
But why exactly would he be doing that? Everyone knows that Ray Beech does not grovel.
"Damn it, where is she?" he all but growled as people continued to scurrying from his path.
Thankfully he lost most of the chattering fangirls and simpering cheerleaders in one of his classes (bolting at high speed and knocking over the teacher and a football player will do that), but that meant nothing if he couldn't find Stella.
He had already checked her next class and according to a very nervous looking drummer, Stella wasn't planning on showing up for the lesson.
Inwardly Ray scoffed. Figures.
The only other place was the old Lemonade Mouth practice room – the basement.
The still stinking, cramped and molding room beneath the boys' bathroom never failed to piss him off. Not only was this detention room the genesis to the band that almost dethroned him, it was also the room his girlfriend had spent countless hours in.
Here in this disgustingly dusty, half-storage room, half-dungeon was where his girlfriend was forced after school for almost three months.
This room was barely fit to have her breathe in it let alone stand in, he thought with a sneer.
Fortunately (or not), Stella wasn't in here.
Ray was very close (inches in fact) to going completely nuclear, but somehow he managed to restrain himself. Lord knows what'll happen if he started violently rearranging everything in the room.
Even though Lemonade Mouth no longer had to practice in the dingy room underground, Stella was surprisingly sentimental about keeping it just as it was, and if angry Ray was bad, it was possible that angry Stella was much worse.
There was one other place his girlfriend could be hiding and that place was Mel's Auditorium.
"She better be in there," he grumbled to himself, his scowl deepening into his visage as his eyes glared forward.
A few people who spotted him wondered if he could even see with how slanted his eyes currently were, but that's for speculation.
No one would risk asking him.
As he walked through the hallway that connected the school with the auditorium, posters and signs advertised new music and performing arts programs; all with the effort of his girlfriend and her band. The existence of the new building was bittersweet to the rival front-man.
Mudslide Crush was all reputation and desirability. It may be popular and remembered now, but they had never done something with a legacy, with purpose.
And the rival band had done just that in their first year together.
However, Ray couldn't deny that seeing Stella achieve such a huge thing as a completely sponsored building with free musical instruments made him undeniably proud to call her his own. What other guy could claim his girlfriend did something of that magnitude?
Him. Just him.
The double doors of the auditorium were dramatically thrown open and right there, on the stage by the piano, Stella was giving orders like a drill sergeant.
Vaguely Ray remembered that the guitarist took up the helm of planning the Halloween Bash, but that thought was passing and he stormed onto the stage.
Stella saw him enter from the side and she waved her minions off.
"Hey stranger; where've you been all day?" She greeted cheerfully. Apparently she hadn't noticed her boyfriend's bad mood.
"Where have I been? Where the hell have you been?"
Her teasing smile dipped. "Answering questions with questions are we?"
"We're going to do this now, really?"
Taking a step closer so she could properly glare at him (which was actually quite hard considering how much shorter she was), Stella noticed the protruding vein.
The grin that suddenly blossomed on her lips was immediate.
"Hey Kenny!"
Ray gave a warning growl. "I'm not in the mood for this Stella."
"Then why'd you come and find me?"
"Because…because…"
"If you have a headache just take an aspirin and calm the hell down, you're scaring the freshmen again," she scolded gently, reaching a hand to his forehead in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein.
For days, Ray was bombarded by everyone left, right and center.
His parents were demanding every bit of his time to dedicate to his academic achievements (apparently placing third in the Honor role isn't nearly as good enough), Brenigan was demanding he take his captainship more seriously (again, winning the championships for the second time still isn't the best he can do) and everyone in between just wouldn't shut up.
Ray could hardly think in silence without someone chattering in his ear, increasing his growing migraine to the point where he was sure that he was physically pounding his head into a concrete table.
To add to his annoyance, he found no time whatsoever to take a breather and recover from the hammering in his head.
Until of course, his little hunt for his girlfriend.
"You could've just gone to the nurse's office, popped a pill and taken a nap, you know?" Stella continued as her other hand reached around to massage his scalp.
"No," he mumbled, like an ashamed, but placated child.
"Well, I don't have any aspirins on me so you're just going to have to make do with a nap." She was already leading him down the steps of the stage towards the cushioned seats of the auditorium, she lifted the arms of the chair up so that he could stretch out, but before she could leave, Ray grabbed her arm.
"Oh and just where do you think you're going?" He was no longer lying down, but sitting up and glaring at her.
"Ray I've got a Bash to organize," she answered with a hint of a scold in her words, however, she still stood before him, running her hands soothingly over his hair and back.
Kenny's incessant throbbing pounding less and less in his temple as Ray sighed into her stomach, his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her there.
"Ray," Stella whined now, "come on, I've got things to do. The Tyrant of Mesa can't be seen acting all soft."
The last was said in a tease because really, Ray was adorably over affectionate without the prodding eyes of the general public.
"Well the Tyrant of Mesa is currently incapacitated so you're just going to have to stay here and take care of me."
She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, her hands moving from his golden spikes down to his chin so she could lift his face to meet hers. "You're such a baby you know that?"
"Yes, but I'm your baby." He pulled her so that she was sitting on his lap and he nuzzled his nose into her neck as she resumed stroking his hair. "And I can live with that," he added, "very happily in fact."
Twenty minutes later, Ray Beech was found ruling over his kingdom with a renewed vigor, cocky smirk in place, a secret in his eyes and with no trace of the protruding vein in his forehead.
Looks like Stella killed Kenny again.
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Finis
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A/n: Oh the randomness…These plot-bunnies have serious problems, how on earth I got inspired by South Park is beyond me.
Feel free to drop me a line.