Author's Note: And thus Malicious Motives comes to an end. I will admit that some stuff could have been better. Particularly, the stuff with Sierra could have been much stronger. I had always intended from the first chapter that Sierra was going to be the antagonist but I didn't build her up as a threat very well. Oh well, c'est la vie say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell and we move on.

Poll results. The most popular OC in Malicious Motives is…the Bus Driver. In second place we have a tie with Bain and Kyra. And in the next place, it's another tie between Gwendolyn/Wendy 2, Ella, Roxi, and Bonnie.

As I always do, I thank ShadowMajin and Beyond the Horizon for practically reviewing every chapter no matter how long it took them to do so. And now to another important topic: what comes next. Well, I have plans for yet another sequel and the same as before goes. If your OC was featured in this one, leave a review or PM that says I can use them again. However, if you do so, be sure to answer these questions when or if you do:

What job would they have? List a job they would have if they were successful and a second job if they weren't successful.

Which side: Heaven or Hell? Give a reason why they would choose Heaven and why they would choose Hell.

What would they sell his/her soul for? Try to be as materialistic as possible. It can be anything from a sandwich to an autographed headshot of their favorite actor.

Answer those three questions, as they will be relevant to the next installment. Don't answer them and you will have to resubmit your OC when the sequel comes out and you will still have to answer those questions. If you don't, your character will be written out of the story line and don't think I haven't done it before. Also, I starting sneaking little things in that will be part of the sequel a few chapters ago but you won't know what they are until later. Much later.

It's been a blast but now let's bring MM to an end, shall we? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Warning: language, violence, death

With Uncertainty Abound

Well this was familiar, wasn't it?

Charlie was really beginning to dislike hospitals. When she had been diagnosed and treated for cancer, that had been different. It seemed like every time she went to one now, it was because Bain was in it. First he was shot by Christophe, then he nearly drowned in Stark's Pond, and now he was recovering from being in a burning building for too long.

He just couldn't keep himself out of life-threatening situations, could he?

Sigh…maybe the last time they were here had a greater impact on her than she had thought. Last time had been that previously mentioned drowning and when he had woken up from the coma he had been in, Bain had come out with a case of amnesia.

Not that she would admit it but she was afraid that the same thing would happen when Bain woke up this time. It had yet to be declared that he was in a coma but he had breathed in a lot of smoke back at his house. Or at least, Charlie believed he had breathed in a lot of smoke; she hadn't been there when the fire started.

Unlike last time, when the worst Bain had was a severe case of hypothermia, the injuries he had were more burn related. First to second degree thanks to his trench coat catching on fire. He was going to have to throw it away since it was far too damaged to be of any use anymore. Charlie would have done it herself but she didn't want to deal with the inevitable shitstorm that would result.

Of course…Bain didn't have a lot anymore. All he had left was his car and whatever he had left inside of it. Well…that and what remained of Winslow. The knife wasn't that damaged but a new hilt would go a long way…

She wasn't making any of this better, was she?

It's just…she didn't like seeing him hooked up to all that equipment, a monitor keeping track of his every heartbeat, IVs dripping medications and nutrients directly into his blood stream, and tubes hooking him up to a couple of air tanks. Bain was already so small and skinny that this only made him look so much more frailer. The bandage on the side of his face and down his neck made that even more so.

He could take a punch; Charlie knew that personally.

The beeps from the heart monitor quickened and Charlie perked up, recalling that this was a sign of bodily arousal. Was Bain waking up?

For moment, she felt nervous. Was it going to be like last time? Was he not going to remember anything?

Bain's eyelids were moving rhythmically, tensing for a second before prying open. Charlie swallowed, watching those heterochromatic eyes stare up at the ceiling blankly for a moment and then shifting ever so slowly to gaze directly at her.

"You look like shit," Bain rasped. His eyes returned to the ceiling and he added, "You can relax. I know who you are, whore."

Charlie would have never expected to feel so much relief at hearing that slur.

"It's good to know you're still the same asshole," she replied. "Now I don't have to babysit your ass again."

Bain merely grunted at that. It didn't seem like he had much to say. Charlie on the other hand…

"What happened back there?" she pressed. "Between you and your sister?" she clarified.

"I would assume…the same thing that happened…between you and your brother," Bain's hoarse voice answered. A low blow there; Charlie clenched a fist at that but had to remind herself that hitting Bain would only delay his recovery. She could always beat him up after he got better. "Where…is that cunt? Do you know?"

"They found whatever was left of her…eh…" Charlie didn't know how to phrase this last part. "I kicked her into the basement and she didn't get out before the whole place blew up."

"Father's gas stash," Bain grunted.

Speaking of parents…why was she the one who had to be here when this topic came up? "About your dad and…mom. They're…"

"The bitch beat me to them," Bain stated, his voice gaining a little strength. She saw his hands grabbing the hospital sheets in a tight grip and she knew that this wasn't an easy subject. "How long I've fantasized…she took that away before…trying to off and force the blame on me. Heh. What I've done to her so far…"

Charlie gave him an incredulous look which he noticed.

"We can't all be blessed with having loving relationships with our parents," Bain drawled which sounded odd with the raspy voice and everything.

"We can't all be blessed to have them for a long time either," Charlie spat out, glaring at him.

"Charlotte, you know who I am. What I am," Bain said, looking away from her. "Are you really that surprised?"

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud but no, she wasn't that surprised.

"So…the other whore is gone too?" Bain asked, trying to shift the conversation elsewhere.

"I thought I already said so but yeah, she's gone," Charlie said. "Wasn't much, though. She's mostly ash. They found maybe a few bone fragments; it's like she burned up quicker than the rest of the house."

"Where's Winslow?" Bain asked sharply, not even waiting a second for her to finish.

Rolling her eyes, Charlie looked around to see if anyone was watching or happening to walk in at the moment before taking out the blade that she had hidden on her person. "You might want to get him—it a makeover or something," she put out.

Bain stared hard at the knife and Charlie had no idea of what was going through his head. His body did relax a bit so Charlie thought that perhaps the worst was over.

"Hold on to it for a bit," Bain said. "I don't think the staff will take too kindly to its presence."

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie grumbled as she put the knife away. "So what are you going to do now? Your house is gone, your family's gone, practically everything you own is gone."

Bain took in a quick breath, eyes widening. "My Stanford letter," he hissed out.

"Stanford letter?" Charlie frowned at that. She hadn't heard anything about a letter, especially one from Stanford University of all places.

Bain's eyes snapped over to her as if realized he had said something he shouldn't have said and was now gaging her reaction. "Yes…I was…accepted into an out of state school."

Talk about awkward.

"When were you going to mention this?" Charlie asked skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest. "On the day you were planning to move out?"

"No!" Bain blurted out defensively. "The timing was…never quite right."

"How about when you first got it, huh?" Charlie bit out challengingly. "Don't even try to deny it, you're planning on accepting and going."

"You have a problem with that?" Bain grunted out. "Is there something you're not saying, hmm? Mmm, throat hurts." He pressed a hand against said throat, revealing another part of his body that had sustained burns. From the back of his hand and down to his lower arm, bandages were wrapped tightly against the flame-scarred skin and the only reason Bain didn't look in pain was probably all the painkillers that were being pumped into him.

"Hard to psychoanalyze someone if you can't talk, huh," Charlie teased. Yeah, she was avoiding the topic because she did not want to dive any deeper into it. Plus it would just serve to boost Bain's ego. Couldn't have that happening.

And Bain seemed willing to let it drop. After a few minutes, he let out a chuckle which was followed by a wince.

"What?" Charlie eyed him, wondering what was going through that twisted mind of his.

"What are the odds that the two of us would have older siblings who tried to kill us?" Bain said. "And that fire would be added to the mix? Your old house burns to the ground with your brother in it and now my house does with my sister. We have so much more in common, don't you think?"

"You're awfully mouthy for someone who claims his throat is sore," Charlie deadpanned.

Before Bain could say or do anything in retort, someone finally intruded on their time and of all people, it was…her. Pink-haired girl. Christ, Charlie was good with names! Why couldn't she remember this girl's? She was just so…so bland!

"You're awake!" the girl exclaimed, then realizing how loud she was, blushed a bit in embarrassment.

"Indeed," Bain replied, looking at the girl contemplatively.

"Sunny," the girl supplied.

"Right," Bain said.

"I helped you during prom?" Sunny said hesitantly.

"I know who you are," Bain almost snapped but his voice held him back. Then, quietly, he added, "You're assistance was…appreciated."

She looked like she was going to swoon. Charlie didn't like it. She felt so possessive all of a sudden…

"I asked you to do one more thing, didn't I?" Bain asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Yes, you asked me to get you this," Sunny said as she took out a phone. "It had video of you when you were…um," she looked at Charlie with uncertainty, "…you were busy doing business?"

"Have you deleted it?" Bain asked.

"No…" Sunny answered.

"Give it here."

The response was automatic. Charlie watched as Bain fiddled with the phone, opening it up and going through its contents. She would have objected about going through someone's privacy but Charlie didn't know whose phone it was. A lame excuse but she was sticking with it. Then sound started coming out of the phone and Charlie leaned around to get a look at it. The phone was playing a video and she could hear Bain's voice followed by the sounds of a struggle…

Bain snorted then pressed a few buttons. "Deleted," he said blandly. He tossed it back to Sunny and added, "Get rid of it. Destroy it, whatever."

"Can I say it was a privilege to see you work?" Sunny squeaked, squirming under Bain's dispassionate gaze.

"You just did," Charlie felt the need to point out.

"Oh, yeah," Sunny ducked her head and her red face reddened further. "I'm just…um…I'm going to go now. I'll…let the doctors know you're up."

Bain grunted but said nothing else, watching the girl until she left. As she was leaving, she passed by someone else coming and wouldn't you know it, it was the guy that Sierra had duped into coming here and the one that had helped her out during the fire. Marcus she had learned upon coming to after she herself had fallen unconscious the night of prom. He was a nice guy, as she had come to learn, maybe too nice for his own good.

Probably why Sierra had picked him out. Marcus seemed not to have the ability to see through others' deceptions or at least doubt their intentions. It was always at face value. She kinda felt sorry for him to be honest. He was still trying to come to terms with what people were accusing her of doing at prom. Hearing that Sierra had killed her own parents and then tried to kill her own brother were going to be things that he would not take very well, she could tell.

"You're awake!" Marcus exclaimed, unknowingly echoing Sunny, and he seemed to brighten up like a puppy. Charlie didn't have to look at Bain to know that he was just staring at the young cop with the blandest of looks you could imagine.

"So I have heard," Bain said.

"This is great!" Marcus said, moving towards the bed. "I mean, out of everything that's happened and…well…you know…it's…it's just good to see some good news out of this whole horrible mess."

A very frank guy, wasn't he? Charlie remained silent, keeping an eye on Bain mainly out of curiosity. It wasn't often people willingly spoke with the bedridden sociopath so seeing how he would react, well, it ought to be interesting.

"So how're you doing?" Marcus asked, coming to a stop at the end of the bed.

"Could be better," Bain rasped out.

"You don't sound so good," Marcus pointed out worriedly. "Is there something I can get you? How about some of those ice chips? I hear they're good for sore throats."

"Very well," Bain said magnanimously, waving his bandaged hand slightly.

"You just focus on getting better," Marcus told him, one of his hands coming down and placing itself onto of a sheet-covered foot and giving it a small shake. "After what you've just been through, I can understand if you're not up to speaking with anyone. The county police still want to ask you some questions, find out what happened in that house but I think I can buy you a couple of days before you have to do that. Also, if you're worried about where you can go, you can stay at the condo. I mean, your parents did buy it and all and you can stay for as long as you want…"

"I get it," Bain said. Strangely enough, there was no iciness to that.

"Get as much rest as you can," Marcus told him. "I'll go see about finding a doctor and getting him to check up on you."

When he finally left, Charlie spoke up, "I'm surprised. You weren't hostile to him."

"He's one of those people you feel bad about giving a dirty look towards," Bain calmly explained. As soon as he finished speaking, he gave a deep, ugly sounding cough, followed by a second and third one of equal ugliness. "Fuck," he swore, grimacing.

Charlie smirked at him. "Do you want someone to kiss it and make it feel better?"

Bain shot her a sharp glare. "Laugh it up…while you can."

"Sure thing," she winked at him.

"Last nerve Charlotte."

"Yeah, yeah, always grinding that last one." Charlie stood up, stretching a bit. "I'm gonna go. Somebody at home will be missing me."

"Wait." Bain touched his neck with a hand, grimacing. "Can…can you get me my coat? Before…you leave?"

Charlie paused. She had been dreading this. Deep down in her heart, she knew he was not going to take this well.

Oh well.


It was only now that Cartman realized the pluses of having an injury.

"Meeeem! I need another bag of Cheezy Poofs!" he whined out loud.

"Coming right up, snookykins," his mother's voice rang out from the kitchen.

Yes, the plus side: when you were hurt, people tripped over themselves to make you feel better.

"Butters! Wave that fan faster! I'm not getting any cooler here!" he snapped.

"S-sorry Eric!" Butters cried out and sped up his frantic waving.

"Ahhh…" Cartman sighed as he sank down into the couch cushions. Oh yeah, this was the life. No need to do anything for himself because other people would do it for him.

"Here you go, sweetie," his mother said as he placed a TV tray in front of him. "There's your banana spilt, hold the bananas, the chocolate Oreo cake, your Dr. Pepper with crazy straw, and a new bag of Cheezy Poofs. Do you need anything else?"

"You, you are such a great mother," Cartman sniffed, calling up some good ol' fashion crocodile tears, "I mean you're the greatest and could you get me some more—"

The doorbell rang, interrupting him.

Resisting the urge to break character, he changed his request to, "Could you go see who's at the door?"

"Sure thing honey," his mother cooed, kissing his forehead in a motherly fashion.

Oh yeah, this was the life. A moment later, there was someone new in the room and Cartman sat up a bit straighter.

"What is all this?" Brianna asked, looking around at all the assorted snack bags and dirty dishes that seemed to surround the "big-boned" teen.

"Just a little something to make me feel better," he answered, using his "nice guy" voice while his mother was still in the room. Once she was back in the kitchen where she belonged, he immediately dropped the act. "You won't believe this! Ever since I got shot, everyone's been trying to make me feel better! It's fucking fantastic!"

"You've been taking advantage of everyone feeling sorry for you just so you can be catered to?" Brianna summed up.

"Duh!" Cartman snorted.

"Butters is right there, you know," Brianna pointed out.

"Yeah, I kinda am," Butters agreed, his waving slowing down to a stop.

"What do you think you're doing? I don't feel a cool tropical breeze here!" Cartman snapped, glaring at the gullible blond.

"Sorry!" Butters apologized, getting back to his waving. He only lasted a few seconds before complaining, "But my arms are gettin' tired…"

"Not my problem; you just gotta toughen up," Cartman shrugged, feeling that a little tough love would go a long way. Then speaking to Brianna, "You gotta try this! When you're hurt, everyone is willing to do anything to cheer you up! I can't believe no one's ever thought of it before!"

"They have," Brianna stated.

"I must be some kind of genius!" Cartman crowed.

"No, you're some kind of dumbass because people are going to get tired of this and then ignore you the next time you get hurt," Brianna said.

"Like that's gonna happen!" Cartman retorted. "I'm gonna milk this thing for all it's worth. Say, why don't you take a seat and relax? Do you need anything? Just say the word and my mom can get it for you."

Brianna narrowed her eyes, giving him that severe look of hers. Cartman shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not enjoying that look. He shifted a bit too much because the movement was starting to aggravate his bullet wound and thus—

"Ow! Ooh, why does it hurt so bad?" he groaned, clutching at his shoulder.

Feeling the intensity of Brianna's glare decrease, he cracked open an eye he hadn't been aware he had shut and saw that there was a hint of worry in her eyes. Heh, looks like even she wasn't immune!

"Is there anything I can—what am I saying?" Brianna began to ask only to cut herself off and start mumbling.

Hiding a smirk, Cartman said, "Can you sit down next to me? I want to maybe know if the power of love can," insert well-placed sniff here, "heal my wound…"

Brianna looked torn, on one hand wanting to answer his siren call and the other wanting to assert her dominance and tell him to stop. The former looked like it was winning.

"That's so sweet," Butters said, looking at the two of them with adoring eyes.

"I'm not feeling that tropical breeze…" Cartman warned.

"Oh! Sorry Eric! Just let me get that…" Butters apologized, for like the sixteenth time in one hour, and got back to fanning.

"Whatever," Brianna sighed and took a seat right next to him, giving up

Little did she realize that she had just given up some of her control. Oh yes, Cartman thought to himself, he was going to claim dominance over this girl even if he had to strip her of control one bit at a time.

He would be the one wearing the pants in this relationship!

"Want some of my banana split," he offered, sliding the dish of ice cream closer to her.

"Where are the bananas?" she asked, eyeing the dessert critically.

"Why spoil a good thing with fruit?" Cartman scoffed.

Grunting, Brianna took the dish and Cartman knew he was just one step closer to his goal.

"Can I rest for a minute guys?"

"Tropical breeze!"


Wendy 2—er, Gwendolyn Long was not a happy camper right now.

Just a couple of hours ago, she had called for an emergency meeting of MUFFDIVER because she was starting to get a bit desperate. She was no closer to getting Stan than she had the day he had broken up with her and damn it, she was teetering at the deep end!

Why couldn't Stan see that they were great for each other? He was the star quarterback of the school with the good looks and she was the piece of eye candy at his side, not a cheerleader but so much better than them. They had chemistry together and she wasn't talking about the class though they did both have that one together.

What was the problem here?

But back to what was going on, she had called her emergency meeting and only a handful of girls had shown up. Neither Ella or Violet had decided to make an appearance so Gwendolyn was going to be the only personality here.

And then that's when things started going downhill.

Those that had shown up were complaining. Complaining! They were whining about how none of the guys seemed interested in them but what did Gwendolyn care? She needed their help to get Stan! Why were they bitching?

Then she heard about how Kyle had broken up with Violet, that Ella and Clyde weren't going steady (Clyde didn't like being "tied down" and wanted to see other people), and those girls who did get their guys found out the morning after Prom that their guys were disinterested in them.

And that was Gwendolyn's problem how?

Well, somebody had gone behind their backs and spread ugly rumors about them being man hunters who just wanted trophy husbands. There was also something about slabs of meat but Gwendolyn didn't quite understand it. Nevertheless, as a result, the main point most of the guys had said was they wanted to be treated like they were a person and not something you could buy at a butcher shop.

There were also the couple guys who had just wanted a one night stand. They didn't count.

What it all amounted to was, "We quit, it was nice to know you, but now we're freelance."

Yes, somebody had actually said it. It was a direct quote.

And so, MUFFDIVER was disbanded.

And damn it, Gwendolyn was no closer to nabbing Stan than she was when she had started LESBIAN in the prequel to this story!

That was why she was at Whistlin' Willie's, a large, steaming pepperoni pizza in front of her without a slice taken out of it. She was daring herself to eat it. To give into the temptation, to eat comfort food like all the bulimic girls did and then vomit it up in the bathroom. Is that what Stan wanted? Someone who was bulimic? Because she'd do it. She was that desperate.

"I heard I would find you here," a voice she didn't want to hear said, a chair pulling out as a girl Gwendolyn didn't want to see took a seat in front of her.

"What? Come to revel in my defeat?" Gwendolyn sneered, glaring at Bonnie.

"No, just to share the feeling of disappointment with," Bonnie sighed. "A bunch of the girls got together and said that they didn't want to be a part of LESBIAN anymore. And since Brittany's too busy being in the hospital and couldn't keep everyone together, we all broke up. LESBIAN's dead and gone."

Heh, at least someone else was feeling her misery.

"And you know what else?" Bonnie added. "DJ was waiting for me and told me everything. That she was working for you guys too and that since we didn't keep up our ends of the deal and she was in a bad mood, she was going to screw us over. Isn't she a bitch?"

Okay, that bit of information Gwendolyn hadn't known. You mean to tell her that this whole time DJ had been a double agent? And now she's turned around and double-crossed both of them?

"And she also said that to get a good deal on one-of-a-kind revenge kits, go to the Black Market where you can get a cheap deal on them," Bonnie said. "She just had to rub it in, didn't she?"

"Terrific," Gwendolyn groaned, putting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"But what's worse is that I didn't see Kenny after Prom and he never came to sweep me off my feet as I hoped he would," Bonnie sighed. Spotting the pizza, she asked, "Are you going to share that?"

"Don't even, fucking, think, about it," Gwendolyn growled.

"Aww," Bonnie pouted.

Several minutes of silence passed between the two and the only thing of note that happened was the pizza getting colder. Fuck, both LESBIAN and MUFFDIVER were gone and it was practically the end of senior year. There would be no time to set up a new group and since college was after this…

Well, college was always a new start. Optimistic but damn it, Gwendolyn was desperate.

"Look at us," Bonnie sighed. "Back where we started. Alone and single. At least we have—"

"I'll let you have a couple slices if you don't finish that thought," Gwendolyn interrupted.

"Okay!" Bonnie chirped and helped herself.


Gary was in a tired yet happy mood. That was the best way he could explain it as he took a little time out from the day by flopping face first on his bed. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the day or the fact that he would be getting up in a bit to make a little trip to the hospital.

A friend happened to have been in an accident of sorts after prom and well, far be it from him to leave the guy all alone in a cold and sterile place. Though how a place like Hell's Pass could be so cold, he didn't know but he always had that feeling whenever he passed through those automatic doors.

But that was neither here nor there. It seemed like things were finally cooling down with Kyra and Stan. He had heard the good news that the two decided to get back together and he had to give them a congratulations. Hopefully this time they would last longer than a couple of months.

Stan was going to have to learn to trust Kyra more and Kyra…well, Gary couldn't think of anything she could work on but then again that could just be bias on his part since she was his best friend. This time he could only pray they got it right. Sure his prayers would be Mormon but did it matter? A prayer was a prayer no matter who it came from.

Groaning a bit, he slipped a hand under his pillow so that he could better press his head against it. The whole Kyra-Stan matter had been exhausting in a way. So much stress, so much drama, it was tiring just thinking about it! For now it looked like it was resolved but Gary had a feeling that there would be more trying times in the future.

It didn't matter if that was the most obvious and easy prediction a person could make since all relationships had moments that would be straining.

Heh. Who knew the key to Kyra's heart would be the Master Chief as she called him? Now that he thought about it, how else would you get her attention outside of a video game reference? How much dignity did Stan have to sacrifice to go through with such a plan? He must have been suffering all those days without Kyra, enough that he was able to pull that kind of stunt in front of a crowd of people and risk humiliating himself.

Right now, he just needed a time out. Then he could fortify himself to make the trip to Hell's Pass and check up on Bain. They didn't hang out often if at all but he still felt a bit attached to the shorter teen since his bout with amnesia. He could never forget how trusting and friendly he had been then.

Gave him hope that that part of him was somewhere deep within Bain, under all the gruff and darkness that seemed to envelop him like a cloak. One could only wonder what could have caused Bain to end up like that. Did it in any way involve this latest accident?

Well, whatever it was, it wouldn't stop Gary from going over there. A fellow school mate was in need and he had a feeling not a lot of people would be going over for a visit.

He frowned, opening his eyes as something met his fingertips. The sudden and odd sensation had disrupted his train of thought. What was it? Feeling whatever it was out a bit more, he discovered that it was very soft and if he exerted enough strength he could bend it. Stopping with his unseen exploration, he grasped the object between his fingertips and pulled it out gently.

Huh. What was a feather doing under his pillow? He wasn't aware if the pillow he used had any feathers in them and he didn't think they did. And it was so white, so unnaturally white. He got that there was this sense of purity about it and this just wasn't making any sense to him.

One of his younger siblings must have put it there. Maybe one of them had picked it off of the ground and hid it here because they didn't want their parents finding it. He couldn't put such an act pass them either.

Eh, no harm, no foul. In case they came back for it later, Gary put it back under his pillow, right where he had found it.

It couldn't possibly mean anything, could it?


There was still unfinished business left.

Kyle was "back on the market" but Damien was pretty sure he had him wrapped up. However, there was one little thing he needed to do first.

That mortal girl, Violet, had thought that she could take his Jew away from him. She thought that she could make Kyle hers. She thought she could deny him what he desired most. Well, they would see about that wouldn't they?

He had waited for some time, letting the days pass by until the perfect opportunity had arisen. Since prom, Violet had taken to walking the streets of the town, always aimlessly, always searching for something. If Damien didn't know any better, he'd have to say she was depressed. He had seen enough of those signs back home where many a mortal soul fell under such a psychological condition.

Of course, there was nothing to be happy about down in Hell outside of his father's wild luaus. Morning torture, mid-morning torture, afternoon torture, followed by evening torture and then if someone was feeling sadistic late night torture was the norm in that fiery pit. Nothing occurred after midnight that wasn't a party though because anguished screams and cries of agony kept his father from getting his beauty sleep.

Heaven save the rotten soul that disturbed his father's beauty sleep.

What was he thinking again? Oh right, the mortal Violet. Yes, there she was, again on another walk. Damien had waited quite some time for this and now…now was the time. No one important would have the chance to see or interfere and it was going to be over real quick.

No one would even be the wiser…

Damien took his place, standing on a relative dry piece of earth just off the sidewalk, melting snow on either side and behind him. Violet was walking this way, following the path of the sidewalk and getting closer…closer…and closer…

She must not be very observant of her surroundings because just now she had walked right by Damien without even seeing him. It was something that both amused and annoyed the Antichrist and since the mortal would not make the effort to initiate, he supposed he would have to do it.

"You seem to be in a happy mood."

Damien smirked as the mortal stopped herself short of her next step and slowly turned around to face him. He had to admit, the look she was giving him as she enacting the action was pretty intimidating. What was that mortal saying? Oh right, "it was always the nice ones…"

"What do you want?" she spat out at him, bitter. "Kyle broke up with me. Aren't you happy?"

Damien blinked cluelessly at her, though he was anything but clueless. Being a good actor came with the territory of being a demon. "I wasn't aware that the two of you were in a steady relationship, at least that's what Kyle led me to believe," he said. "Now, that you two dated but are not dating anymore, that I'm aware of. That it was anything more than trying out the waters…are you sure you weren't seeing more than there really was?"

Violet looked stricken for a moment when Damien had mentioned Kyle but he had to give her props, she masked that reaction pretty quickly. "Are you here to rub it in?" she demanded. "Don't bother and stop annoying me. I'll get Ella to beat you up if you don't."

"Foolish mortal," Damien shook his head as if he was speaking to a misbehaving child. "That's not why I am here."

"Then why—" Violet began to ask.

"Did you really think you could get away with it?" Damien interrupted.

"Get away with what?" Violet frowned, not getting what he was trying to say.

"Invoking my ire," Damien said calmly, almost conversationally. "It takes guts to cross me, mortal girl."

"I don't get it…but I'm not in the mood," Violet said, frown deepening. "Just leave me alone and go away."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Damien replied.

Before Violet could say anything else, the sidewalk beneath her broke open as a large, scaled hand with clawed fingers seized Violet's much smaller body, flames spitting out from around the hand's wrist. Not able to get a scream out, Violet was pulled down into the hellish portal, the opening closing just as quickly as it was made and leaving no sign that it had actually occurred.

Damien smirked, his red glowing eyes dimming as his summon came to an end. "Never cross a devil, foolish mortal."

Enjoy your stay in Hell. You may check in but you can never check out…


The night seemed darker than usual but Mysterion peered into it without fear. From atop his perch on a random building in downtown South Park, he scanned the streets, searching for any sign of misdeeds or juvenile delinquency.

Even though it was darker out this night, it seemed as if it was just going to be another early night. Whatever it was, it seemed like no one was in the mood for a little law breaking this night. It was how he preferred it; the less he had to do, the better this town was. It was a sign that he wasn't needed and ultimately, no matter how you looked at it, a world where there was no need for Mysterion was what he was fighting for.

But some people didn't understand that (coughEricCartmancough!) and thought it was all about the fame and recognition. You had to deal with some of those loonies every once in a while as well as the occasional pretender. It did liven things up but Mysterion was not about livening things up.

Excuse him for being the party pooper.

Without taking his eyes off the streets below him, he cocked his head to a side, visibly showing that he knew he wasn't alone. The person was behind him and to a side, the same side that he cocked his head towards.

"You can come out now," he stated.

A moment later, he recognized the deliberate yet clumsy-footed steps that approached him. So Le Chat Noir was out here too. He shouldn't be surprised and he wasn't. He may not have expected her but the fact that he had encountered her like this a half-dozen times before had taken the novelty out of it.

"How do you always know when I'm there?" Le Chat Noir asked.

"It's easy to tell when someone stares at your back and looks nowhere else," he answered, not even blinking. "Why did you come?"

"I…I wanted to," Le Chat Noir said. "Crime never sleeps, right? So neither should Le Chat Noir."

"I thought that once until I realized that even I need sleep," Mysterion said. "Are you sure this is what you want to do? Once you take this path there is no going back. Once you dedicate yourself, there is no saying 'I'm tired so can we take a break?' You give yourself fully to it and fight it out to the very end no matter how far off it looks. Is that something you're willing to sacrifice whatever life you may potentially have? This is your last chance before this life claims you and never releases its hold."

Mysterion could hear her swallow, a nervous gesture of hers. He wasn't going to sugarcoat this. If this was something she wanted to do, then she had Goddamn better be willing to give it all up for it.

"Yes," she stated. "I've seen too much. People can't protect themselves from the…the monsters like Bain and his sister. Someone has to be willing to step up and stand in their way—"

"It's not just those monsters you have to deal with," Mysterion cut in. "It's fighting crime at every level. From the big fish who try and blow up hospitals to the little ones that spray graffiti on the bridge or harass Mexicans at the movie theater. It's the little crimes as well as the epic ones. Nothing is ever too small for a masked vigilante who hopes to be a symbol of hope for the people of this town. This is your last chance. Are you willing or not?"

Le Chat Noir hesitated. Mysterion waited for his answer.

"Ye…yes," Le Chat Noir declared, standing tall. "I'm willing to do what it takes to protect the citizens of South Park from all threats."

Mysterion let a little smile curve the corners of his lips. "I hope, for your sake, that you can keep that vow."

"You just watch me!" Le Chat Noir exclaimed. "I'll have this town so free of crime that you can leave your front door unlocked!"

"Is that so?" Mysterion shook his head in amusement, the action hidden by his hood. "Then you picked a good night to make such a vow. It's quiet tonight. I doubt anything will be happening."

"What? Aww…" Le Chat Noir pouted. "I so wanted to prove that I was dedicated too."

"Be careful what you wish for," Mysterion chided. Down the street, a car alarm began to blare and Mysterion snapped his head in the direction of the noise. He could see a couple of figures close to the vehicle in question, the car's lights flashing and trying to bring as much attention to it as possible. "You just might get it," he finished. "Are you going to back out now?"

"Of course not!" Le Chat Noir said but she did look a bit shaken at the unexpected crime-in-action.

"Prove it," Mysterion smirked. "Until then, don't expect any Spiderman kisses." With the whip of his cape, he was dashing along the rooftops, sprinting towards the scene of the crime with purpose.

"What? Come on!" Le Chat Noir cried out from behind him. "Wait for me!"