Malicious Motives

by Anonymous Void

Sequel to Fiends. It doesn't matter how well off or close your family is, sometimes you just have to take their life with your own hands. Literally.

26. Prom

Author's Note: The chapter we've been building up to for quite some time. Prom. You're probably all wondering who won the election and all sorts of other things. Well, here it is in one very long chapter. Hope it was worth the wait. On that same note, you'll find out just who wins the crown after all, you guys were the ones who voted. For those that didn't vote, well, what can I say, you had your chance to participate and didn't take it. And speaking of voting, the poll for which OC that has been used in this story is the most popular/favorite is still up. The result of that one will be revealed in the final chapter so there's still time to get your votes in. Other than that, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence

Prom

With the exception of his tuxed-up self, Stan had everything in his car. No, he would not be picking anybody up because he wanted to keep a little something-something a secret until the right moment.

With only an address that had been e-mailed to all students, announced this morning in fact, he would be driving all the way to where prom was going to be held all by his lonesome.

Hopefully, by the end of the night, he would be driving back with someone else with him.

However, someone seemed to have a big problem with this.

"Stan? Are you going to go get your date for the big night?" his father asked casually, sipping from a cup of coffee he held in one hand. It would have been a beer but his mother had conveniently forgotten to get some at her last trip to the grocery store. Five days ago. And now Randy Marsh was without a beer to nurse at home. The horror.

"Actually Dad, I don't have a date," Stan answered honestly.

Little known fact: to survive in South Park, honesty was not the best policy. Here was why.

Randy Marsh spewed coffee out of his mouth in a classic spit take. "What?" Randy hollered.

"I…don't have a date, Dad," Stan reiterated, becoming cautious a little too late.

"What do you mean you don't have a date?" his dad exclaimed, more horrified over this than the fact that there was no more beer in the house. "Are you telling me my son is going stag to his senior prom?"

"Um, it looks that way?" Stan answered, uncertain.

"No. No!" Randy wailed. "My son can't go to prom dateless! He…he'll be a loser! My son can't be a loser! He can't!"

"Dad, it's not that bad," Stan tried to smooth it over but it was like trying to level a tree with a cooking roller.

"It's not bad, it's terrible!" Randy Marsh declared. "My son…my only son…what have you done with yourself?"

After a moment of silence, Stan finally said, "Look, I'm just going to go—"

"You're not going anywhere!" Randy roared, stepping in Stan's way. "Look, Stan, we can fix this. We can fix this! All you need is a date, is all. Do you know any girls at school who's not going to have one?"

"Not really," Stan professed before he stopped himself. Damn it, why'd he have to hang out with guys all the time? He barely knew any of the girls!

"That's okay, that's okay," Randy said quickly. "We'll just have to…improvise is all. We'll improvise! Wait here for a minute Stan. I'm going to get you a date."

With that, Randy hurried out of the room. Now, Stan, instead of just taking the opening to just walk out and leave, really showed off those Marsh genetics and remained standing where he was, waiting for Randy to return.

A few minutes later, his dad did return and what Stan saw…it made him wish that he had taken off when he had the chance.

"No Dad," he stated, glaring at his old man. "No!"

"C'mon Stan! It's your only chance!"

"Dad, no way."

"Stanley, you have to trust me!"

"NO!"

"Stan? Get back here! I am your father so you have to listen to me. Stan? Stan!"

---

Charlie didn't feel like herself. She never felt like herself when liberal amounts of makeup were applied to her face, making her look like a completely different person. Eye shadow was not her thing. Fingernail polish was unheard of. High heels were held in her hands as she stood on her bare feet.

She always preferred bare feet. There wasn't a sense of confinement that came with shoes. She valued her freedom in more ways than one and expressed them in a multitude of other behaviors. Bain had once told her that her name was the feminine form of Charles which meant "free man." In some ways, that was a really accurate description of her.

The gown she had to wear for this night was something she marginally accepted. Her mother had picked it out for her and Charlie didn't have it in her to disappoint her. She was wearing it though it was a bit tight. Not enough to cause discomfort once she got used to it but it troubled her a bit that she had been gaining a few pounds instead of losing them.

She must have been relaxed in more than one fashion. Whenever she was incredibly stressed, she always kept her weight gain in the negative and would thus lose some.

As a reminder of sorts, she wasn't the type of person who cared about her weight. It was just a topic she was using to distract herself from having to wait for her chauffeur to show up as well as ignore the presence beside her who happened to be in a surly mood.

The mental distraction didn't last very long, sad to say.

"You look like you're going to a funeral," she commented bluntly.

"Somewhere in the world right now there is a funeral being held," Damien replied. "Even with a happy occasion there is always a sad one occurring at the same time. You mortals are always so self-centered like that."

"Speak for yourself," Charlie grunted just as a familiar evil-looking car pulled up.

Her ride was here.

"Come on you demonic bastard, let's get this over with," she said and made her way towards the front passenger side. Damien snorted behind her but followed in her wake with no argument.

Naturally, if there was to be an argument, it would have to come from the driver.

"Why's he here?" Bain frowned as he watched Damien critically with sharp eyes. If those eyes were knives, they'd be sharpened down to an atom.

"He refuses to ride with anyone else," Charlie said bluntly. "He wants to go to the party tonight so you can see the problem."

Bain said nothing in reply, his eyes narrowed critically at the Antichrist, watching his movements like a hawk.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Damien snarked at the sociopath.

"One scratch and I don't care if you are the son of Satan, you will pay for it in blood," Bain promised because the psycho didn't make threats. Only promises.

Can you read the sarcasm there?

"Let's get this over with already," Charlie ordered. "I don't want to be caught in the middle of a cockfight between two egos."

"Always so eloquent," Bain replied dryly. Spotting her heels, he added, "I'll expect you to wear those once we arrive."

"Why don't you skip the foreplay and just bend her over," Damien snorted from the back. "That's what you're aiming for, is it not?"

Bain glared at Damien and the black-haired demon shrugged unfazed. There was definitely no love lost between those two.

"Get over yourself and drive," Charlie said. "You don't want to be late, do you?"

Noting how Bain was once again in the red button up and black sports jacket regale, typical of him to wear in any social occasion, Charlie settled in her seat, already praying to any deity out there to make this night move quickly.

"You know, I will never puzzle out just how you can pull off orange yet not pull it off at the same time," Bain said. "Of course, you have to continue being a paradox don't you?"

Without waiting for her reply, he ordered seat belts on as he put the car into drive. Keeping the brake on, he waited until Damien complied, which he didn't until Charlie herself intervened before it could get messy.

Damn Bain and his anal retentiveness towards his car. She refused to believe his excuse that he didn't want to get ticketed because that "dark souled son of a goat's bitch" refused to put the safety harness on. God he could be such a child sometimes. Both of them.

Once they were leaving the city limits of South Park, Charlie just needed to ask, "Where're we going, oh master of the road?"

"You'll see in due time," Bain replied, eyes on the road and not deigning to look at her.

Fucking cryptic asshole.

---

Even with the setting sun, the Airport Hilton stood tall with pride even as the roar of jet engines broke the serenity of the landscape.

On a sign, the words "SOUTH PARK SENIOR PROM CONGRATULATIONS SENIORS!" were spelt out, inviting all South Park seniors to come on in for the big night tonight.

---

For Herbert Garrison, being stuck in a room crowded with high school seniors was as close to hell as you could get. The only thing that surpassed it was being stuck in a classroom of thirty of them for a couple hours at a time.

But what really put this cankerous man in a foul mood was that no one had yet spiked the punch yet. Without a dose of liquid courage, how was he going to get through this night in one piece? Booze was the only reason why he had agreed to chaperone this event in the first place!

Maybe it had to do with that guy they got to act as security. The man was screening practically every person walking into the room with some of the most intrusive equipment you have ever seen.

Garrison was also sure that that man also worked as a bus driver for the school district. The driver of the late bus that everyone dreaded.

"Where do ya think yer going?" the bus driver turned security guard demanded, sneering at a recently arrived couple. "Security checkpoint asswipes. Get yer scrawny asses over here so I can, heh heh, pat ya down."

There was the snap of a latex glove slapping against tubby flesh.

Now that he thought about it, hadn't that driver also worked for the TSA at one point?

Christ, didn't these school administrators know that it was an age-old tradition for students to sneak booze into prom? It was ten years old but it was still a tradition damn it! He shifted his legs to try to relieve some of the discomfort he felt from his intrusive pat down. Strip search his ass, that was more like a prostate exam!

…maybe he should get his number for, eh, future "checkups"?

"Tryin' ta hide something from me, eh? Time for another strip search ya little shitstain!"

Moving along…

No, literally, moving along. He was putting some physical space between him and the front entrance. He needed to take his mind off his misery. Do something that would distract him and help him get through this night.

That was how he found himself next to the punch bowl, the red-colored beverage glimmering at him so temptingly. He felt how dry his throat was and before he knew what he was doing, he was pouring himself a cup. He sensed more than saw Mackey move close enough to watch him expectantly and Garrison weighed the cup critically, as if conducting some kind of obscure scientific test that would tell if there was indeed any alcohol in it.

Stalling long enough, he took a big swallow and tasted the liquid as it ran over his tongue. Mackey was holding his breath beside him, waiting for his verdict.

"Damn it, clean as a whistle," Garrison swore.

Mackey slumped his shoulders and lowered his eyes sadly.

"Goddamn why?" Garrison cried out, throwing the paper cup away. "Why'd they have to do it? Why'd they have to take the liquor away? Why?" He practically threw himself at Mackey, grabbing the school counselor by the lapels of his tux and burying his balding head into the extremely thin chest.

"It's going to be okay, m'kay," Mackey tried to soothe him. "We'll have to make it out somehow."

---

"God what fags," Cartman scoffed as he watched the semi-homoerotic display between the two faculty members. "Do they have to do that in front of everybody?"

"They look like they're at a funeral," Brianna commented.

"They keep doing that and they're going to end up at one," Cartman said. Brianna smacked the back of his head and he turned to glare at his date. "Ay! What the hell was that for?"

"Not in the mood for homophobic comments tonight," Brianna rolled her eyes at him and looked away.

"This is a free country, ho! I can say what I want!" Cartman retorted. "Just watch me! Fag, fag, fag, fag, fag, fag, fag!"

"Shut the hell up, I told you a million times that I'm not gay!" Jake shouted at him while just happening to walk by.

"I wasn't talking to you, butt pirate, but by the way, that suit looks pretty gay on you," Cartman replied.

"You're wearing the same thing!" Jake protested.

"Well I make it look straight," Cartman defended.

"Why are you giving me such a headache?" Brianna moaned.

"Sorry," Jake said apologetically.

"More proof that you aren't a real man," Cartman stated. "No real man would ever apologize to his bitch—what the fuck was that for? You punched me in the arm! Ow!"

"I'll do worse if you don't behave," Brianna threatened.

"That threat won't work on me if you won't follow through," Cartman said. "That's right, I'm back on top again. What'cha gonna do 'bout that, eh?"

"Strap on," Brianna said simply.

"Yes ma'am," Cartman said softly and submissively.

"Wow, I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff," Jake wondered out loud.

"I'm not! She is!" Cartman exclaimed, pointing at Brianna who didn't really care.

"Guess we know now who has the pants on," Jake smirked. "Toodle-loo," he said as he took off, hoping to get the last word.

"That just made you sound more gay than ever!" Cartman shouted at the retreating male's back.

"Not everything has to be a fight, you know," Brianna pointed out to him after a moment of relative silence, relative because the large room was still filled with a lot of talking people, creating a consistent murmur that existed in the background. It was a sound that was barely audible under the music being played by the disc jockey who had a funny way of speaking.

"Welcome-to-the-2012-South-Park-Senior-Prom, get-ready-to-get-your-funk-on-and-don't-forget-to-tip-your-waitress-and-coming-on-now, get-ready-and-put-your-hands-together, let's-hear-it-for Air Supply."

It's not often you could find someone who spoke so fast that you couldn't tell that there were spaces between words.

"Of course there has to be a fight!" Cartman declared. "Life would be boring without them!"

Brianna sighed as the beginning of All Out of Love began to play and she cast Cartman a deadpanned look. "Ever get tired?"

"Well, yeah, I mean it gets old when people don't bow down to your authoritah and you have to get enforcing that you're the coolest kid in school and—holy shit, what the hell is that?" Cartman began to explain before something caught his eye.

---

Stan wanted to die right about now. Seriously. This was just beyond humiliating.

Right in front of the door, there was the bus driver who was giving them a leer that basically said that nothing good was about to happen here. The bus driver looked like he was chewing something in his mouth but his jaw wasn't moving that much due to the double chins he had masking the movement.

"What's in tha box, boy?" the bus driver asked, motioning to the large box that Stan was hauling at his side. "Wouldn't happen ta be booze would it?"

"Nope, not at all," Stan answered.

It was obvious, however, that the bus driver was not interested in the box but more in the person that was at his side. "Who's yer date?"

Stan sighed. He could not believe he was doing this.

"This is…Princess Leia of Aulderan," he introduce, looking at the white-dressed figure with brown hair and the presence of a black mustache that ruined the whole effect. Randy Marsh was looking away, scratching at his neck, two obvious signs that he had something to hide.

"She's a real looker," the bus driver said, ogling his father…ew! That was just…that was just wrong! "I think I might have ta search this one extra close."

This could not get any worse.

"Can't you just, let us go in?" his father asked, doing absolutely nothing to try and mask his voice.

"Sorry lil' lady but I have ta check e'erybody fer alcohol," the bus driver answered. "Lady Principal's orders. Course, I dun mind checkin' you out, heh heh."

Jesus fucking Christ, was this disgusting fat man hitting on his father?

"Um, okay, don't panic Stan, I know what to do here," Randy said. Raising a hand up, he waved his hand in front of the bus driver's face and said, "These are not the droids you're looking for."

The bus driver stared blankly at them and then said, "Lady, I have no idea what yer doin' but it's turning me on."

If things were this bad at the door, Stan couldn't imagine just how worse they would get once they were inside, if they got inside.

"Can I just go in?" Stan asked, exasperatedly.

"Not with that box, you ain't," the bus driver turned screener answered.

"What if I let you check out my dad—I mean Princess Leia?" Stan proposed.

"Stan!" his dad cried out, aghast.

"You drive a hard bargain," the bus driver said and then looked perversely at the disguised Randy. "Very…hard…" he mumbled.

Randy gripped the younger Marsh by his arm. "Don't leave me here with him," the man whimpered.

"Let go!" Stan hissed at his father.

"Don't leave me!" his father begged.

"Don't know what'cher talkin' 'bout but I know I'm willin' to get ta know this li'l lady bettah," the bus driver said, not taking his eyes off Randy.

"Stan!" his father hissed.

"She's all yours!" Stan pronounced as he finally managed to slip around the bus driver's girth.

"Stan? Don't leave me with Jabba the Hut here! Stan? Staaaan!" Randy cried after his son as the teen slipped away into the crowd of seniors.

Sorry Dad but Stan really needed to get in here. One day you'd forgive him for the loss of your gay cherry. Maybe not today but someday…

Now let's see, where could he find Kyra? Hopefully she was going to show up tonight. There was no doubt in Stan's mind she would show up and he had a good feeling that if anything, Gary would convince her to come regardless of what had happened between them.

She just had to be here otherwise he couldn't put his awesome plan into action!

Come on, come on, where were you Kyra? You had to be here, somewhere around here. You just had to be!

…damn it, where was that cinematic moment where the crowd would magically part and show him just where Kyra was? The movies lied to him! Why did he put so much stock into them anyway? They did nothing but get him into trouble. Like getting him grounded for copying bad language, getting him nearly killed in the middle of the following war, getting abducted by Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, getting chased down by Mel Gibson because of the principle of getting his money back…wow, that was a lot of shit. Why did he even keep watching movies—hold on a second.

There she was, sitting down at one of the many tables scattered around. Christ. All that stuff with Wendy 2 had cost him the chance to be right there next to her. He couldn't afford to screw up anymore, not when there was so much to gain.

"Stan! Ey, Stan!"

He did not need to hear that voice right now.

"What do you want Cartman?" he demanded, turning towards his fatter classmate.

"What'd you do? You'd who have to screw?" Cartman demanded right back, grabbing Stan by his shoulders.

"What are you talking about?" Stan wondered.

"You damn know well what I'm talking about," Cartman seethed. "How'd you land Princess Leia you asshole!"

Stan paused, looked towards the front entrance then back to Cartman. "Are you sure you're not related to the fat asswipe that drives the late bus?" he asked.

---

"Alright, alright, it's fucking Prom! Time to partay!" Gwendolyn crowed as she made her way passed an unguarded front entrance, Wolf trudging behind her nervously.

"I'm really not feeling comfortable about that," Wolf said quietly behind her, eyes darting around nervously.

"Shut up already and take my arm," Gwendolyn ordered. "We need to look like a couple so that Stan will get jealous and get back together with me."

"Um, that…doesn't really work in real life," Wolf attempted to point out.

"Take. It."

"Taking it like you asked," Wolf said quickly as he hooked his arm with hers.

"That's better," Gwendolyn said, a smug smile curling her lips.

She searched through all the students, spotting a few faces she knew, some she had seen in passing, and some she didn't like due to the person those faces were attached to. One of those faces was coming up next to her.

"Hey Bonnie, where's your date?" Gwendolyn sneered at one of her greatest rivals. "Doesn't look like you have one. At least I have, uh, this guy."

Wolf raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why are you being such a bi…such a bi…such a not very nice person?" Bonnie grumbled, looking away after being unable to say what she really wanted to say.

"Because you were a bitch to me," Gwendolyn said innocently, having no problems with saying the word that Bonnie had trouble with. "It's fair play, isn't it?"

"You must be a very lonely person if all you do is try and get back at people," Bonnie said, shaking her head in disappointment.

"I'm not lonely! I have this guy!" Gwendolyn glared at her rival while shaking Wolf to emphasize her point. "Whatever, I got places to be. Let's bounce."

As she led her date away from her rival, Wolf stumbling after her mainly due to the fact that she still had a grip on his arm, he managed to say, "That was a bit, whoa, a bit rude of you, wasn't it?"

"She took away from me a group that I worked painstakingly to make, forgive me if I'm not too keen on getting along with her," Gwendolyn spat out. "How would you like it if someone took your store or whatever you call it?"

"Wouldn't happen because I'd kill whoever tried," Wolf replied a bit too easily.

"What?" Gwendolyn blinked at him.

"Wouldn't happen because I'd never allow it," Wolf corrected.

"Right," Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. Not paying attention to where she was going, she almost ran into someone who wasn't about to let her walk all over them.

"Watch where you're going Wendy 2," Ella warned.

"Again with that Goddamn name," Gwendolyn swore.

"Wow, you're hot," Clyde commented from beside Ella. With a quick look to said girl, he said, "Just looking."

"Don't let it get to your head," Ella mumbled looking away shyly.

"Okay," Clyde agreed dumbly.

Gwendolyn frowned at this. "Are you two together?"

"Clyde? I'm kinda thirsty, can you get me something to drink?" Ella asked.

"Sure," Clyde shrugged and walked off.

Once it seemed like Ella was sure he was out of earshot, she turned back to Gwendolyn. "Yes, we are, no thanks to you."

Gwendolyn frowned at that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You made MUFFDIVER to help girls like me get together with the boys they liked," Ella said. "Not once in all my time in that group did you ever help me do anything to get closer to Clyde. Then when it's just me and I'm all alone, I walk up to him and ask if I could take him to Prom. He said yes. I didn't even need MUFFDIVER to do that."

"Well…if you look at it this way, if you hadn't gotten frustrated with your lack of progress, you wouldn't have gone up to him in the first place so MUFFDIVER did help you," Gwendolyn felt the need to try and point out or at least salvage some credit.

"I just want to let you know that I'm out now," Ella said. "I want nothing to do with any MUFFDIVERs or anything. You leave me alone and you can keep that group for all I care."

"Is it me or did you sound homophobic for a second?" Wolf asked. The two girls gave him a look and he meekly shrunk in on himself.

"That's fine; I accept your resignation," Gwendolyn stated. "But if this blows up in your face because you didn't have MUFFDIVER support, don't come crying back to me."

"I don't cry," Ella replied coldly.

"Then crawling on your knees and begging, whatever," Gwendolyn dismissed. "Listen, have you seen Stan anywhere?"

Ella quirked an eyebrow at him. "Stan?"

"Yeah, I was hoping to talk with him," Gwendolyn said casually.

"Probably shouldn't do that," Clyde said, returning with a cup of punch in hand which he gave to Ella. "He just showed up a bit ago and he was with Princess Leia. Lucky bastard."

"Oh snap!" Wolf cursed, looking around hopefully.

The girls stared at him. Then Gwendolyn exclaimed, "WHAT?"

---

"It's so pretty," Violet said in wonder as she couldn't stop twisting her head around to get a good look at all the visual aspects prom had to offer. "They really did a good job, didn't they Kyle?"

"Sure, looks neat," Kyle said, not really caring about aesthetics but agreeing because he didn't want to potentially start something.

"I wonder if they're going to have karaoke?" Violet wondered aloud. "I'd love to sing again."

"No! I mean, I think there are some people around here who aren't, eh, mature enough? To handle your singing. Best you save it for people who would appreciate it," Kyle exclaimed and then tried to explain why she shouldn't grace anyone with her…"singing."

"I'm sure they would change their minds if they just heard me," Violet said.

"Trust me on this one, we have Cartman here and he doesn't give constructive criticism to anybody," Kyle explained. "He's like a troll, a flamer that stalks you, doesn't go away, and says that everything you do either sucks or you should kill yourself, or both."

"Why would I need constructive criticism?" Violet asked.

"Even the best singers get them, it's something you get used to," Kyle said.

"I didn't know that," Violet said, eyes wide like an innocent child's.

"The more you know," Kyle muttered under his breath, somewhat glad that he had seemingly prevented another catastrophe from occurring. Third time was suppose to be the charm here, right?

"Hey Kyle!" Kenny came up from behind, slinging an arm around the young Jew's shoulder, grinning toothily. "What's happening, man? Ooh, you bring her? Nice eye candy!"

"Kenny!" Kyle groaned despite Violet giggling. "Aren't you here with somebody?" he asked, trying to distract his blond friend from talking them into dangerous territory. There were things he didn't quite want to get out to Violet just yet, things that would change her mind about her perceptions of him, things that once said could not be unsaid.

Kinda got a bit dramatic there but really, he didn't want Kenny gossiping about the juicy details of his childhood like that game of ooky-mouth they had to play when they were kids. A disgusting game, that.

"Goin' stag, man," Kenny answered cheerfully. "The night is young and I don't want to deprive anyone of this stud muffin. Anybody in need of some Kenny lovin' can get their dose of it right here."

Violet was borderline giggling, borderline laughing at this point, finding the blond to be humorous but Kyle was a bit too desensitized.

"You're basically going to whore yourself out until someone agrees to sleep with you, aren't you?" he asked in a deadpan.

"Can't get anything pass you," Kenny chuckled. "But in all serious, we're going to find out just who's going to win prom king tonight. I win and girls are going to pour all over me. Gotta leave my options open."

"I know a girl that would like to talk with you," Violet said, speaking up perkily.

"You do, do you?" Kenny looked at the smaller girl, looking her up and down appraisingly while muttering, "Definitely size B point nineteen."

Not hearing the seemingly odd pick of words, Violet said, "We hang out in the same group and she told me how much she would like to meet with you. She's just shy and thinks you're going to ignore her or think she's uncool."

Kyle gave Violet a look. What was she doing? Recalling what he had been told by that DJ girl, he began to get a bit uncomfortable. Wasn't that group Violet was a part of a bunch of girls who were treating guys more like sacks of meat that needed to be claimed?

"All she has to do is say when, where, and how hard," Kenny winked at Violet. "But I want to warn you, I like everybody. You can't tie ol' Kenny down with matrimony. It would cruelly deprive others of the special sauce that only I can make."

"You make your own special sauce?" Violet asked.

"Kenny," Kyle groaned.

"What?" Kenny asked. "I'm just telling her about my sauce. Everybody likes it. You even like it. You lick it off your fingers all the time and if you can, you try to lick it off your face. Everybody can't get enough of it."

"Wait, what sauce are you talking about?" Kyle asked for clarification.

"My barbeque sauce, not a McCormick family recipe," Kenny said. "What? What did you think I meant?"

"I've been hanging around you too much," Kyle muttered.

"'Cause if you were thinking I was talking about my jizz, well, I was also talking about that," Kenny admitted cheerfully.

"Dude!" Kyle exclaimed while Violet began to give the blond a dubious look.

"Kyle!" another voice called his name out. Soon enough, Stan appeared and if Kyle wasn't mistaken, there was that gleam of determination in his blue eyes. Wonder what got him fired up now.

"What is it Stan?" he asked wearily. He was supposed to be here having a good time with Violet but he had a feeling he might have to do things that were going to be completely unrelated to that. Spotting the box that his best friend was lugging around, he asked, "Didn't you buy that thing the other day?"

"I need your help getting this on," Stan pleaded. "I found Kyra and I have this awesome plan to get her attention and everything but I need your help!"

"Can't you see I'm with someone here?" Kyle said exasperatedly.

Stan's eyes flickered, looking around at the people closest to the Jew. "You're with Kenny?"

"Violet," Kyle corrected, glaring at his best friend. Said girl waved a hand in greeting.

"Oh, right, girl with the killer teeth," Stan said.

"Killer teeth?" Violet asked.

"He doesn't mean anything by that," Kyle said sharply. Then back to his friend, "Stan, what are you up to?"

"Yeah, what are you up to?" Kenny chimed in.

"Something that's going to fix everything between me and Kyra," Stan said. "Hey Kenny? Do me a favor would you? If you see my…date, can you distract him?"

"Him? Are you batting for the other team now?" Kenny demanded.

"Staaaaaan!" a new voice cried out.

"Oh Jesus," Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as a white clad figure emerged out of the crowd and practically pressed itself against the teen's side.

Kyle was flabbergasted. Was that Princess Lei—was that a mustache? Kyle knew that mustache, had seen it so many times he knew it by sight.

"Mr. Marsh?" he voice cracked as he stared at Stan's disguised father incredulously.

Pausing in his loud and vocal display of dismay, Randy Marsh said, "I do not know whom you are talking about, sir. I am Princess Leia of Aulderan and not any incredibly handsome and hunky man that managed to knock this young man's mother up."

"Dad!" Stan exclaimed.

"Staaaaan! I'm Princess Leia, not your awesome dad," Randy Marsh whined.

"Damn it Stan, how do you always get the good ones?" Kenny complained. "First Wendy and now Princess Leia?"

Now Kyle felt the need to pinch the bridge of his nose. The only way this could get any worse is if someone else popped up and started some bullshit drama.

"Hey Stan, how's it going?" the coy voice of Wendy 2 popped up. "Who is this woman beside you? She looks like Princess Leia."

Enter the bullshit drama.

"Oh, eh, Wendy 2, nice to, uh, see you," Stan said back, uncomfortable.

"Who's the hot chick?" Randy Marsh whispered into Stan's ear, Kyle, unfortunately, was able to overhear it and he had to grimace.

"I'm having a blast here," Wendy 2 boasted, sounding very plastic. "Have you met my date? He's a businessman."

"Wolf Black," Stan nodded. "We've…met before."

"How are those "How to get a Girlfriend for Dummies" books coming along?" Wolf asked pleasantly.

"I thought that was confidential!" Stan hissed.

"Oops," Wolf shrugged, not in the least bit repentant.

Kyle shook his head; this was getting out of control here. Then again, it hadn't been in control in the first place. It wasn't even worth getting under control in the first place.

"Hey, aren't you the one who's been sexually harassing Stan?" Kenny asked, narrowing his eyes at Wendy 2.

"You were sexually harassed by her?" Randy Marsh gasped. "Nice."

"I didn't harass anybody!" Wendy 2 defended.

"Why won't you sexually harass me?" Wolf asked, frowning at her.

"Why don't you abort that train of thought," Wendy 2 snapped at him.

Wolf…had a peculiar reaction to that. He stuck his fingers into his ears, ripping his arm away from Wendy 2 and began to say loudly "la, la, la, la, la!" over and over for a full minute while everyone around him stared at him in disbelief.

Coming back to himself and realizing he had an audience, Wolf chuckled nervously and said, "Sorry…uh…force of habit."

Whatever. Let Stan handle this on his own. Kyle was getting the hell away from here.

"C'mon Violet," he said, grabbing his date's hand. "Let's…mingle somewhere else."

"Where're you going Kyle? Kyle?" Stan called after him.

Kyle blatantly ignored his best friend as he sought to get lost.

---

Was this truly the best they could do? Curtains, ribbons, and banners? They could have saved themselves a pretty penny and kept this shit back at the school.

Yes, DJ was scornful and playing at interior decorator but she wasn't about to give anything involving Bain a complement. She had still yet to figure out a way to get back at him, or at least come up with something that would stick on him. Why she was here instead of staying in the comfort of her own home…well that was a good question.

At least she hadn't dressed up. There was no way she was going to get all fancy for something that was only going to last a few hours and that she wouldn't enjoy herself at. That and nobody had forced her into more formal getup.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she moped in a seat she had pulled out, her sour mood effectively preventing others from taking or sitting in the table's remaining chairs. Sour mood couldn't even begin to describe just how dark her mood was.

So many people were here, all trying to have a good time. Pah, what a joke. Sure they'd have a good time tonight but many were going to be paying for it nine months from now if you know what she meant.

A chair at her table was pulled back and someone took the seat, thus rendering the previous statement of her mood preventing others from sitting at her table moot.

Who was it…oh, it was that girl Mari. Huh, girl looked just like she herself felt. Frustrated by something or more likely someone if DJ guessed right.

"What are you looking at?" Mari grumbled, peering up at her for a moment and then looking away. "I won't make any problems if you won't make any."

Fair enough.

Looking away from her unwanted company, DJ spotted a few MUFFDIVERs and LESBIANs who were glued to the sides of certain males. The girls themselves looked like they had won the lottery while the guys had differing levels of enthusiasm. Heh, wouldn't it be ironic if the guys had been the ones who were asked out and had agreed just so they wouldn't be dateless losers?

"Christ, she just doesn't quit," Mari muttered and DJ looked in the direction that the other girl was looking in. It was easy to see who Mari was referring to; there was an excited or frantic-looking Roxann Thame moving around, apparently searching for someone. Yeah, Mari and this girl had been hanging out a lot with each other, hadn't they?

"What she want?" DJ asked. Don't think this was out of being helpful or curiosity. DJ just wanted to know if she was going to be bothered by any drama that might occur should Roxann find Mari. That was all.

"She's been bemoaning her loss of confidence as an inept superhero," Mari answered surprisingly. "She wasn't even that good in the first place. Now she's having a crisis in faith and she won't stop dragging me into it."

"She thinks she's a superhero?" DJ deadpanned in disbelief. She had always believed this girl had been a ditz but really.

"She's obsessed with that Mysterion invention of Kenny McCormick's," Mari continued to speak. "It's gone so far that she's created her own persona. Pathetic if you ask me."

"Sounds like it too," DJ agreed.

"Practically almost gotten herself killed on numerous occasions too," Mari said. "She gets Wendy worked up and gets labeled as a lesbian rapist. Now that had been fun. The lynch mob and everything. And then while trying to make a supervillian for herself, she almost gets drowned by one. I would have choked the life out of her had she not fought me off. Oh wait, get this. The first night she goes out, she stalks Kenny to a construction site where he gets into a fight with that Rod guy, same one who dies that night."

"You don't say," DJ says, not in the least bit interested.

"Gets thrown out of the building by that psycho Bain. Had Kenny not saved her ass, I would've been spared a lot of fucking grief," Mari continued to spill out.

However, DJ's attention was perked up.

"She saw Bain there? As in Bain Cynis?" she demanded.

"Kept calling him a supervillain and despite the fact that he's literally under her nose, she hasn't 'found' him yet," Mari scoffed.

"And you know all this?" DJ pressed.

"I was there, her fucking wire-fighting crew," Mari scoffed.

A witness. Someone who could place Bain there at the time of Rod's death. And not just one but two! Oh she had you now, asshole.

"What else can you tell me?" she asked, more interested in ever in Mari's tale of woe.

---

Bain eyed the room critically from his seat, his trenchcoat hanging off the back of his chair, not worn as it usually would be. He searched for flaws or places that could have been done better, and had already found a dozen of them. The refreshment tables could have been pushed back, the floral decorations on the tables could have had a better design and the squared off space where the teenaged attendees could dance if they chose too could have been bigger.

That was the things that came to him right off the bat. Closer looks at other things, like just how much room the stage where the disc jockey was taking residence was much bigger than he had presumed and the speed to which snack plates were replenished, were just another couple to name off.

Basically, a lot of things could have been better. This is what you got when you had girls do all the manual labor. If there had been some guys, this would have been a lot more decent.

"What are you so pissy about?" Charlotte asked from her seat.

"Nothing that you can do anything about," Bain muttered.

"What was that?" Charlotte asked, not hearing him.

He didn't reply because, quite frankly, he didn't feel like repeating or elaborating. It was annoying to do, even with Charlotte, and if you couldn't keep up the first time, there was no point trying to help simpletons was there? Combating the forces of stupidity was truly tiring.

"You know, I think I figured it out," Charlotte said. "You're the one that set this whole thing up and now you're looking like one of those spoiled sweet sixteen girls."

She did not just compare him to a spoiled sixteen year old.

"Ever hear of 'it's my party and I'll cry if I want to'?" he phrased bitingly.

"That's an old ass song," Charlotte replied. "You can do better than that."

"I'm criticizing the work ethic of a group of seventeen to eighteen year old females who are so wrapped up with themselves that they can't make a decent floral arrangement," Bain stated.

"You would…do what you just said," Charlotte said, a bit lamely in Bain's opinion.

"Was that above your level? I'll try to keep it simpler. If only you weren't such a challenge," Bain drawled, his smirk turning into a lazy yet toothy grin.

"Fuck off," Charlotte growled at him, her eyes glowering.

"Always so elegant," Bain taunted. Flashing a look towards the DJ (no reference to that one female that had a grudge against him), he waited a moment until the fast talking man replaced the song currently ending with another one that was a bit slower paced than its predecessor. Good timing there.

Standing up, he held a hand out to a sharp Charlotte who was watching his every move like he was a snake about to strike. "Care for a dance?" he offered. "I'm feeling restless."

"You just want to show off your ballroom moves," Charlotte accused though there was a hint of teasing in there, no malice detectable.

"You won't look like a fool so long as you allow me to lead," Bain avowed. "You don't really want to sit in one place all night, do you?"

"You always do know what buttons to press," Charlotte admitted begrudgingly and as she made to stand up by herself, disregarding Bain's hand in the process, she paused for a moment before strangely enough taking the offered appendage. "Lead away then, lover boy."

"My pleasure," Bain growled in a somewhat playful manner as he led her out into the cornered off floor space. "I won't lead you astray," he added as he assumed the position of a waltz, making quick adjustments to Charlotte's pose before starting the steps.

---

Josh Myers had not taken a step into the actual room but he observed the festivities of the prom occurring inside from the hallway. He was in no frame of mind to allow that large, beefy, middle-aged man who had this aura of disgruntlement about him near him.

Not a person to play games with. He had had one too many cavity searches in juvie, thank you very much.

The children within that room seemed like they were having a good time but Josh wouldn't really know that. He had never been to a prom before. For all he knew, they might be bored out of their minds.

Well, if Axman's plans went through, they wouldn't be bored for long. He turned away from the festivities and headed towards the elevators, picking up two very large bags off the floor and taking them with him.

From one of the bags, a strip of toilet paper peeked out, a silent warning of things to come.

---

Stan had managed to escape from the drama that seemed to trail him everywhere he went. It was exhausting to be honest, especially when hauling the box with him. It didn't look like he would be getting any help from his friends any time soon and with his dad—

"Stan? Where did you go? Staaaaaan!"

—being his dad, it was going to take a lot of elbow grease to put this crap on and a lot of balls to pull this stunt off.

Anything for Kyra, though. Damien had said it himself. If he wanted her back, he was going to have to be prepared to give up everything, including his dignity. What small shred of dignity he still had, that is.

Sneaking up to the DJ (he could swear that someone in their class also went by that name), he managed to convince the guy to do him a favor, a favor that was sealed with a paper Honest Abe, but sealed nonetheless.

Now he had to sneak away and get ready. It was going to be a hassle but once he was ready, the DJ would put on a number especially for him.

If this didn't send it home to that girl, Stan would resign himself to whatever humiliation his father would inflict on him.

---

"Staaaan! Where are you hiding? Don't leave me to become some sexual slave to Jabba the Hut over there! Staaaaan!" Princess Leia ran by and Gary watched the spectacle with undying interest.

"Wow, who'd've thought we'd have Princess Leia at our prom?" he asked out loud to Kyra. "What are the odds that Luke will show up?"

"I haven't played any of the Star Wars games so I have no idea who you're talking about," Kyra answered honestly.

"Um, I was talking about the movies," Gary explained. "The ones that were made before the games."

"You're talking about those? Oh! Oh, right, sorry, wasn't paying attention," Kyra said, taking a sip from her cup of non-alcoholic punch.

"You seem a bit off tonight," Gary said, looking closely at his friend. "You need to leave early? Not feeling well or something?"

"Nah, I'm okay, just a little out of it," Kyra answered. Hoping to change the subject, she asked, "So did you ask anyone to come with you tonight?"

"No," Gary shrugged. "Then again, it's not like anyone came up to me either. I just didn't see anyone who I'd want to take out with me. Guess I'm going stag as they say."

"Guess I'm going stag too," Kyra said.

"Don't get so down about it," Gary said to her. "Not everything's going to be perfect for everyone; that's just not possible in life. You just gotta make do with what you have with the time that has been given to you."

"Okay, I think that last part came from Lord of the Rings," Kyra said. "I know I saw those in theaters."

"Eh, it was about half of it," Gary admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But still, you have to admit it sounded poignant."

"Don't ever change, Gary, can you promise me that?" Kyra asked, smiling tiredly at the blond.

"I'll do what I can," Gary promised. "Now, you want something to eat? They have snacks somewhere around here, I'm sure."

"Thinking with your stomach?" Kyra teased.

"It's the true master of a guy's body," Gary winked at her. "We like to make you think we think with our crotch. It's all a big deception."

The disc jockey began to speak, his speech sped up and words flowing right into one another but neither of the two paid any attention to that. Kyra was too busy smacking Gary's arm playfully. "You guys. Trying to pull a fast one on us girls aren't you?"

"It's working, isn't it?" Gary said as an odd beat began to pound out of the speakers. "Speaking of working," Gary continued, his head tilting to a side, "do you recognize this? It sounds familiar but I can't quite put my finger on it."

Wondering what Gary was talking about, Kyra also tilted her head to a side, trying to listen in. The music that was playing sounded so very familiar yet she just couldn't place what it was. "What is that?" she wondered out loud.

The duo concerned themselves with this most pressing of topics, wracking their minds from where they had heard it before.

Then came the phrase of domo arigato Mr. Roboto, and just at the two began to say the obvious title of this musical selection, there was a cry from a portion of the crowd of high school seniors and the two found their attentions being directed towards…

The Master Chief. Or at least someone dressed like the Master Chief. He, or maybe it was a she, was slowly marching robotically onto the cordoned off dance area when, for the sake of simplicity, he began doing…the Robot.

Kyra felt her jaw fall open as she stared at the sight. There…there were no words, other than besmirching, that could describe what was happening right now. She wanted to laugh but at the same time punch this guy's lights out for ever ingraining the sight of one of the greatest video game characters ever made doing such a dumbass dance like this.

Who would even think that this was a good idea?

Even as she watched it, she was distracted by it and so was taken by surprise when the figure of the Master Chief was only about ten feet away from her and closing. No, he didn't just…he was not standing there and extending his arm out, moving only his elbow so that his arm swung lazily like it was on some kind of hinge. He did not just "reset" himself. He did not just robotically move his arms like he was pumping them as he took step after agonizing step towards her.

Sigh, yes, yes he was doing all that. He was destroying the dignity of the Master Chief. This could not go on. This could not be allowed to go on. To let it was to just further tarnish the symbol of badassery that was the Master Chief.

She was so much into her seething that she did not watch as the Master Chief raised his hands up and towards his helmet, starting to remove that which should never be removed and removed it.

"Hey Kyra," a sweaty looking Stan greeted. "How ya doing?"

"It was Stan all along?" Gary gasped, blurting out what was now obvious.

"Stan?" Kyra's voice cracked. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention. Is it working?" Stan asked hopefully.

"You got everyone's attention," Kyra stated blandly.

In the background, you could hear Cartman call out, "What a fuckin' fag!"

"I just want to say that I am so sorry about what happened and that I'm willing to do anything to get you back," Stan said. "I'll give it all up, even my dignity. Just please Kyra, give me a chance. Just one more chance. That's all I ask for."

Kyra looked him up and down. She began to open her mouth to say—

"What are you doing? What's with that dumb get up?" And enter Wendy 2 stage right. Wolf managed to pry himself away from the girl and stand a ways from the scene, coming to stand next to Token.

Softly, he commented to Token, "Damn this shit's starting to heat up. You know, we Blacks need to stick together if we're gonna get through this."

Token gave the young entrepreneur a look but no one else commented on it as they were more engrossed with the drama taking place by the dance floor.

"Not now Wendy 2, this is not the time," Stan said, not even looking at the girl, his eyes on Kyra and Kyra alone. His blue eyes were intense and Kyra found that she was starting to tremble under them a bit.

"What's so special about her, huh?" Wendy 2 demanded. "She's so ordinary looking!"

"She has a heart of gold and a more developed personality," Stan stated. "And she's stronger than you, that much I know."

"Stronger? What does that even mean?" Wendy2 grumbled as she crossed her arms.

Yeah, what did that mean? Kyra tensed as she awaited Stan's answer.

"She doesn't need to attach herself to someone in order to stand tall," Stan said at last. "She doesn't define herself by her relationship with anyone. She's not reliant on a guy that she might be crushing on and she doesn't spend her time trying to force herself into someone's life if they're not interested or anything. She's not like a lot of girls in this crazy-ass school even if you think she's ordinary and lame. And she doesn't treat me like I'm some kind of piece of meat that you can just walk up to and say 'he's mine so go find someone else'. I don't belong to her and she doesn't belong to me and I like that.

"Sure you gots some boobs on you but a relationship is more than just boobs! Kinda hard to imagine that but that's what it is! You don't just go up to someone and a relationship just magically appears; you have to work to make one first. It's a progress. You can't have something from nothing! Just…I'm sorry if I gave you any wrong ideas and I'm really sorry that I dragged you into my problems in the first place Wendy 2. You deserve someone better than me so I wish you the best of luck in whatever you want to do in the future and I really mean that.

"So please excuse me would you while I try to get the girl I want, that I have built a relationship with, back."

Kyra darted her eyes back and forth from Stan and Wendy 2, watching it with open curiosity and invested in the turnout. It was when Stan turned back to her that she remembered that she was every bit involved with this whole thing as were the other two participants. She swallowed nervously as many other people's attentions were directed towards her and while she had gotten better with social stuff, being in the center of attention was not something she looked forward to.

"Kyra," Stan began.

"I am not about to lose you!" Wendy 2 interrupted, spinning Stan around to face her. "We dated too, remember? We had a lot of fun times! Don't those mean anything to you, huh? I want those back too! Why can't I?"

"I had some fun but those times are also over," Stan said.

"So's whatever you had between you and her!" Wendy 2 exclaimed. "I'm right here and willing!"

"But you don't have anything I like in a person other than your boobs," Stan said. "Sorry Wendy 2 but I don't think it could have lasted between you. And my motives to date you in the first place weren't the best and were very deceptive. A relationship built on deception is no relationship at all."

He pried her hands off him and stepped away but Wendy 2 wasn't about to give up without a fight. She made to grab him again but then the last person anyone expected to get involved in this got in the way.

"Give it up Gwendolyn," Wendy, the original one, intervened. "Stan's found someone he already likes and it's not you. Show some class and let him make his own decisions and don't force him to accept ones that aren't his. Besides, aren't you here with Wolf?"

In the background, Wolf was making a slicing motion over his throat as if trying to say "don't bring me into this!"

As the drama began to shift towards Wendy and Wendy 2, Stan physically shifted closer to Kyra, devoting all his attention at her. "Kyra, have I done or said anything just now that makes what I'm trying to tell you unclear?" he asked.

It was fairly obvious what this was all about and Kyra shook her head in the negative.

"So…will you take me back? Please?" he asked her.

Kyra gulped, thoughts racing through her mind. What was she going to say? She meant, what was the whole point of Stan making a fool of himself as well as mocking the Master Chief? Was it forgiveness? To show what lengths he would go to just to have her agree to be his girlfriend again? And did she necessarily want to?

You know what, fuck it. She was going to say the first thing that came to mind. What was going to be her immediate answer to Stan asking her to get together again? Might as well do that for all the answers thinking about it was giving her.

As she began to open her mouth to speaking, Stan watching her as he waited for her every word, she was prevented from saying anything when there was a shriek behind Stan and her armor-clad ex stumbled right into her without warning.

Behind her, Wendy and Wendy 2 were currently engaged in what looked like to be the ultimate catfight. There was spitting, hair pulling, and attempted eye gouging with fingernails while everyone gave the two combatants wide berth.

Pretty much what happened at every catfight.

Looks like her answer was going to have to wait.

---

"How perfect," Bain growled, glaring in the general direction of all the commotion. "You can't trust those harpies to remain civil for an hour before they start trying to tear one another apart."

"Don't you have to go over there?" Charlotte asked him. "I mean, you are head of the prom committee. Aren't you supposed to handle this shit when it happens?"

"I'm only in charge of setup. This is all out of my realm of authority," Bain replied. "And I thought you knew, never try to break up a catfight."

"Why's that?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow skeptically at him.

"Watch exhibit A," Bain gestured.

"You little bitches oughta be 'shamed of yerselves," the bus driver turned security guard blasted at the fighting cunts. "Got all tha crap I nevah had growin' up. Do I need ta get out mah whompin' stick? Break it up. Break it up ya little—she's bitin' me! Stop scratchin' mah face! Where'd ya get that broken bottle? Aaaaahhhhhrrrrrrr!"

"I rest my case," Bain said.

Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose, unknowingly copying the signature gesture of a certain Master Chief impersonator. "Why am I so surprised?"

"That is a good question. Care to answer?" Bain said.

"Knowing you'll get a sick sense of satisfaction out of it, no," Charlotte rebuffed. Always the spoilsport.

"You look a bit under the weather," he said after a moment of silence, leading the taller girl back towards their table. "You need some fresh air?

"Don't try to be coy with me," Charlotte stated. "You're trying to convince me to step outside for a bit while you sneak around and put into action some kind of grand plan that's supposed to ruin this night for everybody here."

Bain stared at her and could only hope that he did not betray any sign of shock. "How long have you known?" he asked quietly.

"In some way, I've always known," Charlotte sighed, looking away. "You volunteer to head up prom committee was the dead giveaway. You never get involved in things unless you get some kind of payoff out of it. 'Course, you had to distract everyone from watching you and that's where the whole prom queen stuff came in. I bet you were the one to start that rumor that the two who win have sex with one another and then get married."

Bain pointedly said nothing about that, preferring to look away.

"You really are predicable, it's just that no one pays enough attention to you to figure that out," Charlotte finished.

"So why aren't you doing anything about it?" Bain asked quietly.

"What would be the point?" Charlotte shrugged. "You once asked me a year ago why I always stood in your way. Well, this time I'm not. Go on and have your fun. I'll wait outside until you're done."

Bain raised a skeptical brow at her. "You are seriously okay with this? Forgive me for doubting your uncharacteristic indifference but I find this statement of yours suspect. You always do like spoiling my fun and then there are all the miscreants around us that you seem to enjoy protecting…"

"It's not worth it," Charlotte said, looking away. "It was strange and disturbing but…sweet, I guess, of you to try and remake something my mom and…dad had when they were this age. And even if I did try and stop you, you probably have all these contingencies in place that'll get around anything I can do. So what's the point?"

"That's very jaded of you but I'll respect your decision for once," Bain said. Slipping off the sports jacket he wore, he placed it on Charlotte's slightly broader shoulders. "To keep you warm in case you feel nippy," he said before she could ask what he was doing. "Besides, I need a change of…costume I suppose you could call it," he explained further as he snagged his trenchcoat and stuck an arm into one of its sleeves. "Do be careful; any pain you may suffer I prefer to be the direct cause of instead of being an indirect one."

"Whatever," Charlotte rolled her eyes at him.

---

Roxi was feeling really lonely here. Mari was avoiding her, Wendy was busy trying to make some kind of atonement by helping out Stan, and damn it she was standing here all by herself, unable to confess all her self-doubt to anyone who would listen.

Yes, she had tried the Goths, she had been that desperate. Not even they were willing to hear her out. Was she to be doomed to wander the whole of Prom with no one but her emo—er, depressed self?

With all these happy people around here having a good time, she needed to take a break from all the cheerfulness. Where better to do that than in the bathroom? A little time out, some time to blow off a little steam, then she could go back in there and be the ever fabulous Roxi Thame that everybody adored.

Sigh…it was sometimes so hard to be wonderful.

She did a little touching up in the mirror, making herself cosmetically acceptable, a little adjustment in the breast area and she was back to her regular looks that could kill.

So awesome. Though she didn't feel like it, she needed to present a strong front out there. They needed to think she was all right. Then maybe Wendy and Mari would drift back and she wouldn't feel so alone. Truly it was a shame she hadn't found a date to go out with…

Sigh.

Alright, let's go back out there and make some heads roll!

She was leaving the restroom, looking right and left to see if there was anyone around and found herself a bit disappointed. No one was there to show off to just yet but a small trip down the hallway and she would be back in the party if you know what she meant.

She began to take a step forward but then pulled back as someone passed by, heedless of her presence. It was so sudden and how had she not seen him? Sure he was short and everything but…

The person glanced at her and Roxi found herself being captivated by the sharp look that paralyzed her. Lips curled into a sneering smirk but the malevolence in those eyes…they were so…familiar…

You just committed what tens of college students and professors commit every year. Try again before you get charged with a misdemeanor and sued.

You know, for a sudden memory to pop up in her head, that…was not the most dramatic one to come out. How about for a more ominous one, long term memory?

You have balls doing this, bitch. How come every time a guy dresses up like a Batman knockoff, some girl gets it into her head that she can not only do the same thing but do it better?

Okay, that was better. Alright, proper expression of shock…check. Okay, continue dramatic reveal.

She should be made to realize the error of her arrogance, wouldn't you agree?

You're out of your league.

A night that should have been triumphant, where she should have gotten her desired Spiderman kiss from a certain mysterious hero, when she stood high above the trio of fighters who looked up at her in awe…and then insulted her within an inch of her life. That was when it all went downhill and when she tried to fight back, the tables were turned immediately and she found herself at the mercy of…

…of him. The very person who was currently in front of her, walking passed her and sparing her a smug look. The person who had gone into hiding, lurking in every shadow and eluding her whenever she tried to search for him. A lookalike who wasn't a lookalike but the real deal.

Bain.

And then he was passed her, increasing the distance between them as he unhurriedly strolled down the hallway. She could feel it in every cell of her body; he was up to something. Something wicked and villainous. And she was the only person who knew. Mysterion wasn't around and she had no idea how to contact him.

It was going to be all up to her then. But Roxi couldn't face him! She was just a normal yet awesome girl! She was a civilian!

Le Chat Noir wasn't. Le Chat Noir was a hero who had yet to establish herself. This was her chance then to prove herself once and for all that she was hero material. To expose and then spoil this supervillain's plot…the opportunity was almost too good to be true!

She clenched her fists as Bain turned a corner and her resolve strengthened. Turning on her heels, she walked rapidly towards the parking lot, heading for the car she had ridden in where she had just so happened to stash a certain costume on a whim.

---

Things were heating up in here, temperature-wise that is. Kenny needed a bit of a break because not even he could be a teenaged heartthrob all the time. He moved through the crowd, slipping around those who stood in his way and occasionally winking at girls who happened to make eye contact with him.

Watching them blush a bit in response was always worth it.

Passing through the front entrance that no longer had a certain bus driver guarding it, the blond recognized the singular opportunity that was suddenly presented to him. With no one keeping a close eye out, this was the perfect chance to fulfill that sacred South Park tradition!

Spiking the punch. Oh yeah.

Oh, wait, he had forgotten to bring any booze with him. But he had been sure that some of the guys had hired some French mercenary to smuggle some in. Where the hell was he? Never mind, if there was a liquor store nearby he could use his fake ID to nab a bottle and then smuggle it in.

Kenny was about to liven up this party. You can thank him later.

Adjusting the bow tie of his light blue tux, the hood of his orange parka slipping out from between his neck and the collar of his dress shirt, Kenny tried to make himself a bit presentable before taking off for the nearest exit as fast as he could. There was no telling on how long this opening would last so he needed to hurry.

Senses honed from late nights out on the town while costumed as a certain dark vigilante brought him up short and he scanned his surroundings for whatever sent his internal alarms up and ringing. He could have sworn he heard a familiar sound of footsteps but that couldn't be. Eh, probably was his—

A flash of someone hurrying through the hallways dressed in a tight leather-esque outfit that resembled a cat put an end to that thought.

Dear God, this could not be happening. Was that idiot really trying to play hero tonight of all nights? And damn it, he was already in the mission of lightening up this borefest! Did that girl really have no sense of timing or anything?

"M'kay, folks if you'll be patient for a few more minutes, we'll be announcing the winner of the prom elections here in a bit."

He could hear that amplified voice of the school counselor make that announcement and Kenny swore. Christ, he needed to be in there to hear the results as well! But he couldn't be in two places at once! That was physically impossible! Oh, what to do, what to do?

Gritting his teeth, he hurried back into the large, decorated room, his eyes searching for the first person that looked even remotely helpful. He needed to find someone who would listen to him for a second. He needed someone who could pose as him for a bit while he handled this new matter. He needed someone who could copy his body language to the point that no one would be the wiser that it was an imposture.

In short, he needed a close friend who let him walk all over them like a welcome mat.

Cartman was out of the question. Stan was too busy. Hey, it was Princess Leia again, searching for Stan frantically. And then…

"Kyle!" he called out as he snagged the surprised Jew's arm.

"Kenny?" Kyle exclaimed.

"Kyle! I need your help for something," Kenny said as quickly as he could. "It's incredibly important and you're the only one that can pull it off!"

"What about Butters?" Kyle asked. "I'm a bit busy here," he added, jerking his head towards Violet who was currently chatting it up with a few of her friends.

"Not smart enough," Kenny answered. "Just…I need to be somewhere else right now but I can't miss the announcement of who won the election."

"This isn't going where I think it's going is it?" Kyle asked, eyes narrowing at him.

"I don't have a lot of time Kyle. Please!" Kenny begged the redhead.

Kyle looked away, biting his lip for a moment. "Christ, I know I am going to regret this," he muttered.

---

Roxi wasn't the only person who was chasing after a suspicious character in this airport hotel. Having spotted and kept her eye on him, DJ was also following after Bain. With a camera phone in hand, she was determined to not only confront him one last time but hopefully grab some incriminating evidence that would finally get her the revenge that she craved so much.

---

High above the stage below, Bain crossed the catwalk that remained out of sight of the crowd of high school seniors, various wires and cables streaming parallel with the suspended pathway. Just ahead was some electronic equipment, set up right here for the little show that was about to take place in a few minutes.

The unveiling of the prom king winner was the key to this whole thing. A single moment of incredible importance that it could make or break this whole thing. He had already made one last call to Sunny, informing her that the time was at hand and to get ready doing her part.

The time was at hand at long last. Everything that he had been working on all came down to the next few minutes.

Opening up a laptop, he brought up the necessary programs that had been made during set up by none other than a fellow prom committee member. All the committee members knew about this but not about the few changes he had slipped in here and there. A little lightshow before the big reveal would entertain that morons down there and get them invested in learning the long-awaited results.

Once drawn in, then the full brunt of his plans would come in. It was just so exciting and he trembled with anticipation.

A few taps of the keys and it was all set up. Now to wait and make the few adjustments that were would be needed to make this absolutely perfect. His nightmarish fantasy was about to meet reality.

It was now all set into motion.

He felt them more than anything. It was the feeling you usually felt when you could tell someone was watching you and only you. What was the phrase for this sensation, the hairs stood on the back of his neck?

Regardless, he knew he wasn't alone and he would be damned if anyone was going to interfere this late in the game. Bain slipped Winslow out of his current hiding place and then jumped into action.

Spinning around, he swung his arm in an arch, slashing at the person who cried out and jumped back. Oh no, they weren't going to get away now. Not now of all times. Then he took in the image of this would be interloper and blinked, his mind trying to process the ridiculousness of it.

Of all the people…he would have thought it would have been McCormick or the so-called Mole. Black outfit that hugged the curves, spots of fake fur pasted onto cloth, a domino mask and a headband with Goddamn cat ears on them…

He knew this person…unfortunately…

"You…" he breathed out, staring her down. "You're that…Kitty Girl, aren't you?"

"The name's Le Chat Noir now, evildoer!" the masked menace declared with as much bravado as she could gather. She pointed a clawed finger at him while trying to take up a heroic pose, hand on the hip, straight posture, and expression of self-righteousness included in the package.

"You have got to be kidding," Bain said, feeling the urge to do what teenagers today called a faceplam. Straightening up and ignoring the fact that she was taller than him, he kept Winslow out in sight as he decided to play this costumed bitch's game. "I see you survived that fall," he commented. "And you tried to come up with an original name. Still a bad choice, it means 'the black cat' in a certain European language that I refuse to name. I believe you are now borderline copyright infringement."

"Hey! It's a totally original name!" Le Chat Noir defended.

"For a French elementary school kid," Bain retorted. "I said it once and I'll say it again, you're out of your league, bitch."

"I won't let you do…whatever it is you're up to!" Le Chat Noir declared as she held her hands out, finger curved like she was trying to make them claws.

"How sad, you don't even know what's going on," Bain demurred, shaking his head as if he was speaking to an unruly child. Eyes flashing open with a steely glare, he added darkly, "Nor shall you."

He watched as the girl froze, a second of fear making her hesitate and Bain took the opportunity presented to him. He lunged at her, crossing the short distance between them in a second. With his left hand, he threw a clumsy punch whose sole purpose was to distract this idiot's attention, a diversion that proved successful as the costumed fool took a step back, her eyes trained on the fist.

She didn't even see when he swung his right hand, the one that held Winslow in its grasp, and struck her in the side of her face with the hilt of the blade's pommel. She was caught off guard and Bain used both of his hands to grab her on either side of her head. Pulling down, he rammed a knee right into her face once, then twice before letting her crumple onto the catwalk.

Too simple, really. Looks like she had a low tolerance for pain. Now what to do with her…

Noticing the cables all around, his lips curved into a wicked smirk.

---

A slap brought Le Chat Noir back into consciousness and the superheroine blinked her eyes while twisting her head around to try and find where the unconsciousness banishing blow had come from.

"Wakey, wakey, my little skinned cat."

Another slap and whatever fuzziness that once existed in her head was gone as she focused on that bit of physical shock.

Bain was right in front of her, smirking at her malevolently while his hands fiddled with a much too large knife casually. Le Chat Noir jerked her body but soon found out that something was restraining her. Damn it, she was tied up! Though with what she had yet to find out—

That's when Bain place a hand on her and pushed her back…and straight off the catwalk that she only now remembered they were on. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to scream but before gravity could take hold, something pulled on her and she was stopped in midair, her restraints tightening against her without warning.

It was now she realized that she was tangled up in the cables and wires that surrounded the catwalk like a little kitten in a ball of yarn. Only a kitten, though, she was doing her best not to move in case that one move sent her plummeting down to the stage below.

"There's always more than one way to skin a cat," Bain joked at her expense. "Now don't be going anywhere. I want you to see just what's about to happen and let me just say that it'll be a doozy."

Swallowing down her fear while trying to keep up a braze front, she declared, "You won't get away with this you fiend."

"Please," Bain rolled his eyes at her. "It's already begun and nothing can stop it now. So why don't you be a good little cunt and shut. Up."

"Why don't you treat ladies with more respect instead?" a gravelly voice retorted.

Le Chat Noir jerked her head up and she felt relief blossom in her chest as there stood Mysterion, here to save the day again.

"I really should have expected you to show up," Bain grumbled as he rubbed his forehead. "When one masked idiot shows up, another is bound to follow. Do you always come in pairs?"

"This ends here Bain," Mysterion stated. "I suspected you were going to pull something tonight. Can't say that I'm not surprised. You wouldn't get involved with prom unless you were planning to sabotage it. I'm not going to let that happen."

"Do you really think that this is my first rodeo?" Bain challenged. "This has not been the first prom that I've had a hand in before. I know what I'm doing and I'm afraid that this time, you will not stop anything. I've been waiting for this night for years and nothing you can do is going to put an end to it."

"We'll see about that," Mysterion replied.

A loud noise from the speakers below blocked out any other words the two foes could have thrown out, the lights attached just under the catwalk blinking on and moving in a programmed manner. The show had started and many of the seniors were turning towards the stage of which this trio of unique individuals were suspended over. Due to the curtains, no one had any view of them but then no one knew they were up there in the first place so none were looking for them.

SOUTH PARK SENIORS OF 2012, WELCOME TO PROM NIGHT! a programmed voice spoke through the speakers. IT'S THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! IT'S TIME TO FIND OUT THIS YEAR'S PROM QUEEN AND KING!

Bain grinned wickedly. "Too late 'Mysterion'. It's started."

And then the psycho threw himself at the hooded hero, Le Chat Noir unable to look away as two titans collided to begin their climatic battle. If only she had some popcorn…

The hero and villain grappled with one another, Bain trying to stab with his knife which Mysterion held back by holding the wrist that rested under the knife wielding hand. Mysterion's other hand had a firm hold of the upper portion of Bain's arm as he struggled against the bad guy who clutched at the vigilante's shoulder with his free hand.

Le Chat Noir felt like she was watching something she wasn't supposed to. Right in front of her, two titans were duking it out and the outcome was none other than the preservation of Prom itself!

And all she could do was dangle here and do nothing to assist the hero she idolized.

The two fighters jostled from side to side, hitting up against the railings on either side of the catwalk, a dance of potential lethality that one wrong move and one of them could fall off the bridge and down onto the stage below, risking possible death.

"That was good, wasn't it students, m'kay?" Mackey spoke from below, ignorant to the battle just above him. "Let's give a hand of applause to the prom committee and congratulate them on their hard work? C'mon, m'kay!"

Mysterion managed to shove Bain away from him and then launched at the villain in a flying tackle, knocking them both onto the catwalk. The knife slipped out of Bain's hand and skittered away, coming to a stop right in front of the electronic equipment that she had seen him working on before.

The begrudging applause died below and the school counselor continued with his announcement. "M'kay, you've all been waiting for a while haven't you? Well, at long last we have the result from your voting. First up, we'll announce who this year's Prom King will be. Now if I can only get this thing opened…" The last sentence was mumbled yet was picked up by the microphone he held in his hands.

Everyone heard him but no one really cared. That went double for those above.

Mysterion and Bain were now wrestling more than fighting, though every so often, one would free a hand and start whaling on the other with a clenched fist. Bain's legs were kicking out all over the place, sometimes hitting Mysterion but most of the time just striking the suspended platform they were on.

While they were fighting it out, Le Chat Noir, inspired by how hard her personal hero was fighting, began testing her restraints, trying to loosen them so that she could escape them and then help out. She had no idea just how Bain's plan was going to turn out but she figured the best way to stop it was to take him out. Mysterion seemed to have the right idea there.

"There, got it. Now, the winner and your new Prom King is…"

Bain managed to smash the palm of his hand into Mysterion's chin, snapping the hero's head back a bit and putting a few inches of space between them. With his teeth bared and clenched together, Bain growled as his hand pushed against Mysterion's face as he sought to get the hero off of him. It seemed to be working as Mysterion was unwillingly giving up an inch of space by the second. He pulled one of his legs in, folding in on itself and wormed it between them, trying to use it as a wedge to push Mysterion off him fully.

With a push, Bain managed to shove Mysterion off him but instead of backing away, maybe retrieving his knife, Bain was throwing himself onto the hero and throwing vicious punch after vicious punch at the hooded vigilante's face.

With his lower arm, Mysterion parried one potentially nasty blow then only moving his elbow like a fulcrum, bashed the back of his fisted hand into Bain's mouth. It wasn't a hard blow but it was just enough to provide a physical shock to the sociopath to make his jerk back.

"Can we get a drum roll, m'kay? M'kay, that's better, now for this year's Prom King, it's…"

Mysterion slapped his hands on either side of Bain's head, disorienting him enough that the hero was the one shoving him away this time. As he stood up to tower over his enemy, Bain kicked a foot into his stomach, Mysterion folding his arms over his gut while simultaneously entrapping Bain's foot.

Bain's eyes widened in fear at the expectation that Mysterion would twist his foot and in a sudden bout of desperation, kicked his other foot into Mysterion's groin, a move with purpose but accidentally hitting that one sensitive place.

Le Chat Noir scrunched her face a bit, sympathizing with Mysterion on receiving a critical blow and as a result she began to renew her struggles. She dropped a few inches suddenly and froze completely, suddenly remembering that she was high up here. She had managed to slip out of some tangles of cables but now her position was even more precarious than before!

"Wow, the prom committee really went out this year, didn't they? Can we get another round of applause for them for doing such a good job? Keep that drum roll going." Some uneasy and impatient clapping… "M'kay, that's good and now, for the Prom King that you elected, it is…"

A right hook sent Mysterion sprawling onto the catwalk and Bain glared down at him with a venomous snarl. It looked like he was about to jump on top of the vigilante again but a glance downward seemed to convince him to leave off attacking Mysterion in favor of reaching the computer equipment.

From her dangling position, Le Chat Noir began to renew her struggles, casting helpless looks towards Mysterion who was starting to push himself up, rubbing at his jaw where Bain's last hit struck him.

Come on Mysterion! You gotta stop him!

"You know, it's been a real crazy month hasn't it?" Mackey remarked, unwittingly stalling again. "What with all those debates and vicious campaigns. Well, I guess with this we can put it all behind us—"

"GET ON WITH IT!" the crowd of high school seniors, along with various chaperoning faculty members roared at him.

"Okay, okay, I'm gonna, m'kay!" Mackey said defensively. "M'kay, this year's Prom King is…"

Bain hunched over the laptop, his fingers finishing tapping on some keys and ready to hit the enter button. Mysterion was turning himself around and stalking up behind the villain. Le Chat Noir gripped at the cables that restrained her yet prevented her from falling to an almost certain painful meeting with the stage below.

"…Kenny McCormick!"

Bain hit the enter key, and a simple spotlight began shining down on the stage where the Prom King should take his place on the stage. Meanwhile, in the crowd, there were various yells, most notably from Cartman who was busy demanding a recount and Princess Leia who was crying out in an oddly masculine voice that her son was a loser.

Then as a hooded individual wearing a light blue tux walked onto the stage, Bain blinked, his jaw dropping slightly at the sight. McCormick was down there…but wasn't he—?

He was jerked backwards as Mysterion got an arm around his neck and began dragging him away from the electronics.

Twisting his head around, Bain demanded through clenched teeth, "How? How are you in different places…?"

"Trade secrets," Mysterion smirked.

"That's…my…line," Bain spat out.

"Not anymore it's not," Mysterion replied.

"You only…invoke that…when you take authority from…someone else," Bain growled.

Mysterion wrenched his arms and bashed Bain into the catwalk railings and used his hands to hold him up against them. "There's more than one application of the Jack Bauer rule, Bain."

Le Chat Noir felt like she could have swooned. Mysterion was so in his element here, taking on the bad guy and saving the day. This thing was over and…sigh, she hadn't played an integral part in stopping it. Like always. Damn it.

"Now, I know you all are wondering who won the Prom Queen election but unfortunately, the last few candidates failed to follow the rules before all the votes were counted, m'kay, and were thus disqualified. I'm sorry but we're only going to have a single king this year."

"This is bullshit!" could be heard come from Cartman of all people.

A voice cried out from the crowd, "Who would've won if none of them were disqualified?" A few "yeahs" followed that and Mackey could be seen shifting uncomfortably.

"Er…" Mackey hesitated, his uneasy grunt causing the speakers to shriek slightly. However, the shriek began to increase in volume unexpectedly for a second, causing a few complaints to be thrown from the audience of high school seniors.

Just as soon as the shriek from the speakers died down, an unexpected and unrecognized voice boomed from them.

"ME!"

Le Chat Noir looked down at the stage in surprise, caught off guard by the magnified declaration. Mysterion had copied her, also looking down at the stage, caught off guard. The only person in the rafters who wasn't, though, happened to be Bain who took this new opening to snake an arm under and around Mysterion, his hand clamping down on the back of the hero's head and pulling it down.

Mysterion's face met with the top bar of the catwalk railing and then again as Bain pulled his head back and then pushed it into the bar for a second time. Breaking from Mysterion's hold on him, he landed another punch on him and then scrambled back to the laptop where he sharply tapped a few more keys.

"I told you that this has already begun," Bain boasted. A sharp tap on the enter key caused all the red-colored lights to flash on and direct their beams of light all on a trapdoor in the stage which was at that time opening.

Rising out of it was a gowned figure of a beautiful woman, one that Le Chat Noir had never seen before. The dress she was wearing was stained in some unknown red substance and it was hard to tell what its original color had been due to all the red lights shining down on her but what seemed to keep most people rooted to the floor was the crazed expression on her face.

Her eyes were alight with some sinister flame and her lips were pulled back in an almost rictus grin that expose so many pearly white teeth. Then there was the gun that she held casually in one hand, a possible insurance that no one would leave this moment willingly until it was all over.

"Sorry for my late entrance but I couldn't bear to not let you guys have your Queen," Sierra Cynis spoke into a spare microphone, the night now entirely hers.