POV. Kyle's.

Red Bandanas.

Real superheroes don't exist. SUPERHEROS are fake, made-up characters thrown into twisted crude adaptations of 'city' nightlife. Created by fat wannabe obsessed dorks latched onto computer screens in their mothers cluttered, damp basement, who go on to publish pages of scrawled unrealistic pages of art-comics that, if there luckily get made into high rated blockbusters' that ended up not meeting fans expectations-crashing and burning in the dark fumes of disappointment.

It was partly these nerds fault that peoples heads get filled with lushly excavated storylines, leading them to risk their lives.

Now here in south park that's just what's happening.

Some carefree coke snorting knob was frolicking around the filth clad streets, in tights and cheap white briefs.

Its not that Kyle had anything agents the kid personally, if he wanted to run around in his underwear that was fine by him, as long as he didn't have to watch that is. It was the idle giggling gossiping that now filled the school halls and engulfed all conversations. It was literally killing him, what was this kids problem? Why do people feel the need to put all their hopes in dreams in mystery characters, that jump around on loose rooftops titles.

Flicking his tongue against his cheek in annoyance about the whole situation and the bitter cold now edging its was into his lungs.

Sighing he flicked his gaze down the street, the night sky swallowing downtown South Park. His breath fogged out in front of him, in the fidget wind. He hoped that this errand wouldn't take two long, his ma had asked him to look after his younger brother and his adopted brothers friend- as they were going to be leaving for a week. Begrudgingly he had said yes as the prospect was unmiss-able a whole week without parental supervision although he still had to look after Ike, that was being slightly extracted his brother was mature, to mature for someone his age but still, ugh.

Shaking his head slightly he rounded the corner, it was still a mystery as how he still couldn't find a dam shop that was open at this time. Jesh. Ike and his dam friend- it was only 10:44 but he had missed the closing businesses by ten minutes so now he had to walk half way across town to the 24-hour store. Great, flipping great.

Here he was being a good brother walking the streets down Kenny's neck of the woods trying not to freeze to death. At that thought the red-head mussed over the thought of dropping into Kenny's room, possibly freaking the hell out of him a small smile spread across his face. Which quickly turned into a grimace as he realised he couldn't do that as Ike was waiting non to patiently for him to drag his ass back home, with his errand complete.

His phone vibrated agents his leg, probably his brother impatiently demanding him to hurry up, git. Him and Fillmore can go fuck themselves. Not bothering to reach into his green baggie jeans to pull out his phone, yeah he was really going to risk frostbit for that, he wishes! He had almost, ever so nearly reached his destination when a force hit him hard slamming into his chest, making his arms fly up in natural instinct to protect himself as he fell sharply onto the brittle ice lain pavement.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed as he caught his breath, now sprawled out on the wet pavement, with a black clothed 'hooligan' perched on his chest. Pinning him effectively to the sidewalk. Dam. 'What the hell was going on, ohm god WTF, was he getting mugged! Shit! Mugged for seven dollars and fifty cense! What the…. His eyes tried to focused on the hooded, teen? It was hard to tell, due to their position, half way in-between street lamps. Which where spaced out quite far from each other, the distance between at least 15 meters, the fault of this lying with the small towns', small budget.

His eyes meet with his attackers, his breath stuck in his throat, as dark gems bored into his, unearthing his soul. Fuck, they where captivating, he lost himself in them. Oh lord it couldn't be, but it was, pining him to the ground was the notorious South Park super hero, what was his name..? oh yeah he remembered, how could he forget, his mind added in a sarcastic underline, It was that fucked up kid, Mysterion.

Great this was just great.

He opened his mouth, ready to launch the a verbal attack, an attack of his own. But before he could say anything, the 'hero' leapt to his feet dragging Kyle with him, not realising his grip on Kyle's arms as he dragged Kyle of down the nearest ally way. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU DOING, LET GO OF ME!" Kyle struggled with all his might, but it was fruitless, Mysterion just threw him up agents the dirty, holding him there. "what are you doing! Let go of ME, right NOW!" Kyle demanded angrily his voice rising twp Octave's. But the 'superhero' just ignored is pleas, and kept his iron grip on Kyle's lower biceps, scanning the ally, or at least that what he looked like he was doing. The teen grunted as he pushed at the silent hero.

"Shhhhh" oh he speaks! How dare he 'shh' him! "No! Get off, of me! Why do you think that you can do things like this, and you 'actions' having no consciences! You idiot are you trying to get your self killed! You carnt just take people of the streets and-"

"Kyle! Shut up, this is not the time for one of your rants! Do u know were you are! Your in downtown south park in the middle of a turf war! And if you don't be quite the primitive preps' tailing you will fucking murder you or and worse, what do you think your doing strutting round the streets in the middle of the night!" Mysterion's deep rasping voice, ground out, pushing his body almost full flush agents Kyle's. A sudden spell of light headiness over took Kyle, his knees began to feel weak as he melted into mysterions magnificent eyes, the hero's hot breath curling over his cheek and full plump, lips reddened from the cold. 'NO! he was NOT, could NOT happening, he was Not getting, getting…eh…aroused, by the ….this situation. No! he was..was not gay, true he had never had a girlfriend other than Bebe in 6th grade, the relationship had ended as he had felt nothing extra special…and had not really put in the ….effort Bebe wanted, expected, demanded. But that didn't mean that he was gay. Did it? No it didn't. He just wasn't as hung up on boobs like the other guys…But that didn't mean he was …god…he didn't- wasn't.'. Kyle's thought train was interrupted as mysterion full-on pressed him up agents the brick wall.

"You know Kyle you shouldn't low ride," He was referring to his dark green baggie skinny's "in prison, low riding was a sign to show others that open for business, and that you are a bottom bitch…"

God, thought Kyle as mysterion's deep, rustic voice swirled like smoke around in the night air, wising, caressing his slightly freckled face. His eye lids dropped to create half moons. "That's an urban myth-" his reply was cut off when the hooded teen cut in with "ah, I am an urban myth, am I not? And, ah do you really believe what say's now do you?"

Kyle was stubbed, was this flirting? Was he flirting back? How did he get in this situation? What was going on?

His body was on fire. His eyes rolled back into his head, the whites shinning in the dim light. Kyle, Kyle! He faintly remembered someone calling his name, as darkness grabbed him and consciousness left him. Strong arms, encircling him and then…nothing, just darkness.