Ayami's Warning: So everyone knows, this is a South Park fanfiction, and it also may contain some canonxoc set up. Not fans of it, then please hit the back button and find a new fiction. Not to mention this is my first one, those who stick through it cut me a bit of slack. South Park copyright of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

South Park: Dark Blue

Prologue

Clouds shifted lazily in the darkened sky with a southeast breeze, drifting slowly. If one could peer closely they could see some stars from the scattered coverage. A faint smell of rain that has come to pass still lingered from the dampened grass to the sight of puddles in the streets. However, this meant nothing to the dark vigilante Mysterion. He kept the blue toned eyes-that were the only visible feature on his face besides his lips, the rest covered by a mask and his hood, down along the sidewalk of the little town of South Park.

Mysterion kept himself perched on his little corner of a tall building, which had given him a good angle to view. The streets were deserted; cars parked alongside the street not roaring to life like the daylight hours, houses, businesses, all lights were out. With the exception of the Park County Police Station and Skeeter's Bar, these places teemed with either the highest authority or crawled with drunkard roaches that polluted the nightly streets to do stupid things. It gave the vigilante a moment to breathe out, for once the streets were quiet minus the sounds of discarded newspapers or posters rolling in the breeze and crinkled, and if he listened close he could hear the squeak from a mouse.

Peace was a rare thing.

South Park, Colorado had its fair amount of bullshit that's happened to it, even some things that couldn't be explained. Mysterion inhaled a breath of the semi-warm mountain air of the start of fall then exhaled quietly. Perhaps he should find a moment to turn in, nothing was happening. Slowly he looked up to the clouds as the clouds lazily moved and the full moon had its opportunity to shine its silvering glow down onto the dark streets. However, as he was just about to take his leave, something passed from the corner of his vision that made him freeze, a shadow in the cast of the moon! He couldn't see it very well nor was it clear, but a billowing of a cloak and a limb that was reached down to touch onto a roof and took a jump down into an alley. Not giving it a second thought he took his path from his perch to the nearby roof to find the correct location.

Who the fuck was that?

Where did they come from?

An enemy?

A foe?

These were the questions that ran through his head, he stopped, looking down every alley he could find. It was almost as if the person had vanished. Perhaps his mind had simply imagined it? He had been rather tired lately. But no, he couldn't have! Imaginations can't run wild like that. Correction; imaginations can't run wild like that unless the person doing the imagining was high! As he was about to stop Mysterion froze when he stopped and knelt down over an alley, there was a faint flicker of a lamp that was starting to fade, but was still hanging on by a thread. He could see two figures, one was wearing a long, blue, hooded robe, face completely obscured. The other was a man, clutching onto a black leather purse with gold studs and a spaghetti leather strand, in his other hand was a switchblade knife that he had pointing at the one in blue almost shaking in his palm.

"I…I told you to keep away from me you freak!" he spoke, voice in almost a slur, perhaps he was just a thief who had made a split second decision to get some more booze money? The one in blue though stood still, quiet, calm, even with a knife pointed at them. "Not gonna say nothin' now after all that bullshit you were yammering on about?!"

"I'm only giving you one more chance to hand it over, peacefully." A black, fingerless glove pointed from the robe. The voice was masked by something, it didn't sound robotic, but it hid the person's gender very well. "I will bring no harm to you if you just hand the purse over and walk away."

"And I told ya…ya…ya freak…I ain't handin' it over!" the man slurred a bit and waved the knife about before drunken steps moved and tried to slash at the blue robed figure. Mysterion blinked when the figure pulled out what looked to be a simple black click pen, but upon clicking the top it formed into a long black and silver engraved pole that they held in both hands.

CLANG!

A ringing of metal striking to metal rung through the air as the knife found its way and met the pole with a brunt force to leave a small knick in the silver. The blue figure pushed back and then twisted the pole in such away it smacked into the man's wrist. He could only grunt and swing again in wild strokes in hopes of striking.

One of the wild swings had found something at least; there was a loud ripping of cloth as the switchblade tugged at the threads of the blue robe. That was when the dark vigilante saw just a hint of something under the hood as they took a moment to assess the damage, green eyes behind a black, glittering mask in the shape of wings. Though they didn't stay distracted for long there was a clang that rung out through the air once more as knife struck the pole. It seemed though that the blue robed one had just about enough of this man and pressed her pole back and moved back one step, bringing the pole around into an uppercut motion.

THUD!

The pole struck onto flesh and bone and the thief nearly howled in agony, but the knife had been knocked clean out of his hand and into the air, out of sight. Mysterion was staring, almost mesmerized, the fluid movements were graceful even if it was violent. The pole struck the man in the gut and when he hunched over to catch his breath from the air being knocked out of him the weapon cracked over a section in the back of the neck, not enough to kill, just to make the damn drunk pass out.

"Honestly, you should have taken the easy way." The blue figure spoke solemnly then reached up the pole and pressed a certain spot and it changed back into the pen that they tucked away to an inner pocket. Soon they reached down and picked up the purse and placed it under their arm.

Mysterion shifted from his position, one foot placed just to the edge of the roof, he had made his move to go and speak to this person. However, he was unable to. An excruciating pain entered his body and he nearly coughed out blood. He reached back and he felt a handle dug deep into his back and groaned; the knife that had been knocked clean into the air…had fallen and found its landing marker right into his back through his heart. Crimson liquid leaked and slowly dripped onto the cold stone. His vision was already starting to haze and all he could see for a split second before his body slumped to the roof to bleed freely was something green peering up at him before the blue blur disappeared in the darkening smear before him.

All too soon it became black.

He felt like he was floating, hovering in a line of suspended animation. He couldn't move his body felt numb. Slowly he opened his blue eyes and looked around slowly, just by moving his eyes, his head wouldn't shift it refused to. Through the light blue gaze he stared up at the nothingness. Something slowly started to form above him, through the darkness, a bright white light. It was warm, inviting.

Slowly, almost painfully, he reached out a hand to the light, but it only seemed to get farther and farther away from him the more he tried to reach for it. He suddenly felt like his body was plummeting through the darkness at a quick rate, breaking through the barriers of purgatory.

Almost as suddenly he felt himself land on something, back and all, he could feel it and his eyes suddenly opened in shock. He was greeted by the dingy ceiling and cracked walls, the faint smell of rat poison…he was in his room. What had happened? Was it all a dream? No, it couldn't have been, the vivid pain had hurt so much. He turned his head and groaned when he heard a knocking at his door.

"Kenny? Kenny! Get yourself out of bed; you're going to be late for school!" His mother called out to him and he reached up to run his hand through his blonde hair as he pulled himself out of bed sluggishly, reaching over and picking up his orange jacket from the knob of his door to pull it on.

This morning was already starting out like shit for Kenny McCormick.