Loud moans punctured the air, shrill and impossible to ignore. They wavered, volume rising and lowering as if someone was conducting a symphony. It would have been amazing, if they weren't so embarrassed and if not feeling guilty.

A man not important enough to know by name, merely a pawn of a background character, was shoved forward by his co-workers. Neither of them warranted a name either.

They stood in a dingy hallway, shifting their weight as they huddled around a particular door. The shoved man cast a glare back at his friends, upset that he had to do it. He sighed, hitting the wood hard with his knuckles. It was hit trice, enough to have the hallway inhabitants nervous.

"Yes! Yes, don't stop!"

He coughed, awkwardly turning around, "Maybe he isn't home...?" His sheepish smile wilted from their harsh glares, and reluctantly he hit the door again. Harder this time, until his hand ached.

"O-Ooh-" Pitying the younger member of their crew, one of the older men took a step forward, interrupting the moaning by bellowing "McCormick, we know you're there! Come out!"

It was like someone had placed a wine glass over them, silencing all sound in a startling noise of clarity. They had to wait for a few minutes, keenly listening to things being tossed around, a muffled whispering, then finally footsteps heading to the door and unlocking it.

They cleared their throats, eyeing the woman that peered at them through a slit of opened door.

"What do you want?" She snapped, curly blonde hair spilling into waves, almost hiding two large hazel eyes filled with dignified anger. She had quickly slipped into a floral satin robe, which was haphazardly tied together. They tried not to stare.

"Ma'am, we need to see Mr. McCormick."

She leaned back, expression stony, "Ain't heard of that name before." The door that went to be closed was cut off by a firm grip, forcing it back.

"Look, sweetheart. We're trying to be polite, so cut us some slack. Cartman sent us."

Her eyes widened, and conflict clouded her features. Just as she opened her mouth, someone called from within the apartment. She paused, chewing on her bottom lip, but she eventually opened the door. Standing to the side as they entered, and shutting it quickly behind them.

They found him in the bedroom, wearing nothing but trousers, the suspenders to which hung loosely from the sides. He glanced up to them, slipping his shoes on. There was a thin layer of sweat on him, accompanying the flushed appearance of his skin.

"I thought I recognized your voices. What, he couldn't wait until later?"

"You know how he is."

Kenny laughed, and everyone relaxed. Some had worked alongside him, but all held respect for this man. He absently waved his hand, smiling when he was offered a smoke. Gladly he accepted it, slipping the cigarette into his mouth and leaning forward. It was lite for him, everyone watching as he heavily inhaled until his lungs burned. It spilled forth from his lips, grey curls that danced upon sex soaked air.

"Alright," he sighed, climbing to his feet and picking his shirt and jacket from the floor. He'd put them on in the car, "let's see what he wants." They all filed out, tension resolved. On his way out he darted over to Bebe, who glared from her position against the living room couch. He swooped down, brushing back a lock of hair as he kissed her. Breaking away, he flashed her a smile, "I'll be back."

Bebe pursed her lips, teasingly frowning as she said, "And the door may be locked."

"Ouch." Kenny jokingly winced, "Ice queen strikes again." He ducked as she moved to swat at his head, hurrying to join Cartman's goon squad. Doubt chased after him, he knew she was getting sick of being left home alone. Maybe she'd get bored with staring at the clock, and find herself someone new. He forced himself to smile wider, to the point where it hurt.

"You're kidding me, is this some joke?"

The middle-aged woman Kyle was talking to rolled her eyes, chopping a carrot into tiny slices. "Look, you're new here. Someone must have told you how things were going to be, you do odd jobs here and there. It isn't a big deal."

"Not a big deal? I got called on my day off to..." He squinted at the slip of paper in his hand, "buy some sweets?"

"Look, Broflovsky."

"Broflovski." Kyle corrected, grinding his teeth.

"Whatever. You're new, that's it. You could be asked to perform while you're taking your last breath, to shake that ass of yours in front of a crowd of drunks, and you'd have to do it. Why? Because this is the Garden of Eden." Her eyes squinted, eyeliner smudged as she fixed a tired eye on him. "This isn't amateur hour, kid. You have to work today? Boo-fucking-hoo, I've been making meals since last night. When do I get a break, huh?"

"I.." Kyle's eyes darted to the knife she started waving around, slowly taking a step back. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Yeah, you should be fucking sorry, you ungrateful-"

"Jane."

Both of their heads swivelled to see a man standing in the kitchen door frame, frown enough to have Jane grimacing. Dark skinned, he was tall and firm, dressed in a white buttoned up shirt which was tucked into his black slacks. An apron was tied at the waist, meaning he fit extremely well with the culinary atmosphere. Or what remained of it. "Put that knife down." Clatter "Good, now go take a nap out back. I'll cover for you."

Taken aback, Kyle blinked as Jane left the room, sullenly mumbling out an apology as she walked past this mysterious man.

"Kyle, right? Kyle Broflovski?"

"Yes, that's me." Oh he was good, immediately he liked this man. "And you are...?"

Chuckling, he approached Kyle and offered his hand, "Token Black." They shook hands.

"Have we met before?" Kyle was trying desperately not to think about how warm Token's hand was, over how tight his grip was.

"No, but news flies quickly here. Faster than a paper airplane."

Kyle's face broke out into a grin, "Well, if knowing my name helps prevent being stabbed. I should put my face on a milk carton. By the way, thanks for that."

Token laughed, finally releasing Kyle's hand. "It was no problem, we have to look after one another in this joint."

"And that happens often here...?"

"Smooth. Not usually." Token headed over to the counter, finishing up with cutting the carrot. "A lot of people respect the name behind the club, so not a lot of trouble gets stirred up."

"Unless it's the staff..."

Token glanced at him, raising a brow as he continued smiling, "They're usually relaxed as well, Kyle. Can I call you Kyle?" His worry disappeared when his red haired company nodded. "Anyway, everyone has their pressure points, Kyle. Jane's just happens to be sleep deprivation, trust me, she tends to be the sweetest person you'll ever meet on most days."

"Most days." Kyle mumbled, getting bored with this conversation. Quickly he changed the topic, "How about you, Token? What are your pressure points? You seem pretty relaxed about saving me from a horrific death."

He shrugged, "I'm used to it, taking over for people. Blending in, being anyone or anything."

"Anything...?"

Token cast a glance back at him, "Don't sound so shocked, Kyle. I started at the bottom tier too, you get pulled in every direction."

Kyle couldn't deny he was right, "And you're still doing everyone's bidding? Isn't it tiresome?"

"What can I say, I like helping out. Sometimes being ordered around is necessary, it's important to be apart of a tea-Shit!" Both watched as a piece of carrot fell onto the ground, rolling off somewhere. Shaking his head, Token set the knife down, and bent onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" Kyle took a step forward, alarmed by the sharp inhale coming from Token.

"I'm..." Kyle watched as the back of Token's neck began to flush, "I'm alright. Just a little sore from last night, it...it was eventful. I'll be fine, I just need a minute."

"That must have been a hell of a night."

"You," Token unsteadily climbed to his feet, "have no idea. I'm still sore all over. Sorry. Too much information?"

"Nah, I'm fine. I was just-"

"Worried?" Token smiled." See? You'll fit in fine. Before you know it, you'll be in my shoes."

Kyle laughed, "Yeah I hope not, it looks like you took a real tough beating." His eyes flickered to the clock hanging on the far wall, "Besides, I think I should head out and do this delivery."

"Good luck. It was nice meeting you, Kyle."

"You too." Feeling a bit confused, he left, half listening as Token started to hum a familiar tune.

Eric stared at his reflection, applying a ruby shade of lipstick to his pursed mouth. He rolled his eyes at the knocking, full eyelashes lowering as he pouted.

Pausing in his movements, he sighed. "Come in." He finished up painting his bottom lip, smacking when Kenny entered the room. "Look who it is," Eric crooned, "crawling up on my doorstep."

"You called me here."

Eric turned around, waving the two men that stood behind Kenny away. "Why the attitude? I thought we were friends?"

"I was busy."

"Oh." Eric shrugged, "Well you know I respect your relationship with her, but I called you for a reason. Not just for you to zip my dress up."

"You didn't?" He let his gaze sweep up his friend.

Eric's eyes narrowed, "I don't need your sass."

There was a pause, a gap in which Kenny realized he wasn't on solid ground. Cartman was pissed, for real this time. "What happened?" He asked, taking a step forward.

Spinning back on his cushioned stool, he grabbed a perfumed bottle from the vanity. Lightly misting his wrists and his neck, "Oh the usual, pathetic worms tried to backstab me. And oh that's right, I got spat on."

Kenny sucked in his breath, "Who-"

"It doesn't matter, I dealt with it. What I need you for is a little detective work."

He fought the desire to sneeze, the perfume smelt of island fruit. Pineapple, bananas, and coconut. Not a usual smell you find on Chicago's streets. He was really playing into this whole Calypso deal. "And you need to be dressed up for that?"

Eric met his stare in the mirror, "The reason I'm dolled up is none of your concern. Got it? I gave you your task."

"Er-" He caught himself, "Calypso. What is this about?"

Patting the chestnut locks of his wig down, Eric scowled. Eventually his features softened, "I have digging of my own that needs to be done. Something that I'd rather do myself, but not as me. If you're good..." Eric smirked, "Maybe I'll tell you."

"Something tells me that maybe I'd prefer not knowing."

Chuckling, Eric stood up, "Maybe. Now hurry up and zip up my back, I have places to be."

"Yes, Ma'am." Purposely he took longer than necessary, letting his hands lingered.

Eric snorted, "Unless you want two stumps, I'd pick up the pace."

"My life is filled with ice queens." Kenny sighed aloud.