(A/n: This very long one-shot Banana Fish AU. Just like with the Ajin AU things will not flow precisely like how neither the manga or anime went.
Summary: Kenny is a 17 year old gang leader while Stan is a 19 year old assistant of a photographer that wanted to document street gang activities that's been occurring within a certain state. As well as a notorious drug that's been crippling and killing people.
Also the title is a poor reference to the title of the anime's first episode. Please enjoy)
Chapter 24: Not-So Perfect Days
The night is a bit chilly and bustling with noise. No matter the day of the week, once it strikes nightfall the city bursts with blaring music from bars/nightclubs, frustrated car horns, and even people traversing or idling on the sidewalks, chatting casually or loudly in a drunken daze. It's like every citizen in this town is an insomniac.
Ambling away from the accustomed commotion into a dark, damp alleyway is Kenny McCormick, his hands stuffed comfortably inside his orange jackets pockets. He's actually on his way to a bar he frequents, not only does he know more than a few people there but they also serve delectable drinks that are topnotch compared to the other bars. In his opinion anyway. And the best thing is that he can get them for free, thanks to a certain privilege.
Brimming with excitement, Kenny turns a corner, feeling his mouth practically beginning to water in anticipation for a taste of one of Kyle's famous cocktails. It's titled 'Volcanic Hush', a cold, professionally served beverage that is appealing to the eyes, as are most of his drinks along with some of the other bartenders. But this one is special. It's an interesting blend of two colors; majority of the liquid is a cherry red, giving off the impression that it's just your common cocktail, the blood orange wedge and the sugar coated around the rim of the cocktail glass boosting it with a bittersweet flavor. The second mysterious color cannot be so easily detected unless you inspect it closely, Kyle made it this way intentionally, knowing that it could either divert or pique his customers' interests. The latter occurred more times than the former thus 'Volcanic Hush' became his most popular drink.
The name was a perfect fit, however the redhead himself didn't come up with it. His customers did, and for a good cause. He wasn't the best at naming his drinks. He'd once called one of his margarita's 'Sour Power' and one of his whiskey's 'Marigold Wonder'. The first one was something a candy company would label their product as or maybe even themselves while the second one wasn't bad, but was already taken. So now, the redhead's customers volunteer to name his drinks for him whenever he whips up a new formula, sampling them plus getting a month of free drinks as compensation if they sell well.
A heavy footstep disrupts Kenny from his daydream, which was for the best otherwise he would've just about envisioned himself downing all of his favorite alcoholic refreshments for minutes until he got to his destination.
Taking no further steps, he wipes away the drool, the fingers of his other hand gripping a switchblade in one of his pockets. Another footstep sounds over the city's background clamor, and eventually the tip of a person's shadow peeks out from behind the corner on the wall across from Kenny. Narrowing his hazel eyes, he notices that the person is hunched over, appearing to be moving sluggishly.
"Are they hurt?"
Curious but staying alert, Kenny advances towards them. Hearing his approach, the individual halts in place, taking a timid step back. From the looks of their posture they don't seem to pose as a threat, but even still Kenny's guard remains firm as he rounds the corner. He sees a young man who appears to be in his mid-twenties and he is indeed injured, a palm held over his bleeding stomach, his other using the wall as support to keep him upright.
Kenny recognizes this man as he jogs over to him, a weak smile of relief spreading across the adult's pained face. "O-oh, it's j-just you..." Then he collapses, Kenny extending his arms out to catch him just before he hit the ground. Carefully, he turns him over while lowering him down, dirtying his brown hair and business suit even though his jacket was already stained with his blood.
Kenny eyes his wounded abdomen, he'd either gotten shot or stabbed and from the amount of blood he's progressively losing, he won't last much longer. "Who did this to you?" He has an inkling as to who would dare harm one of his companions, and once this guy utters their name he will make them pay.
With a wet cough, the man sticks a bloodied hand inside his jacket, pulling out a vial containing a white powdery substance from within the inward breast pouch. Rather than answering his question, the man tells him a street address he is to head to as soon as possible, the remaining light from his blue eyes fading. "H-he'll k-know exactly w-what banana fish is..."
Kenny's eyes widen in shock. "Banana fish?" He's heard that name many times before, most from his own brother and nothing good has come out of it. It's a cursed drug. Frowning, he takes the small flask, looking down at the male to see him completely still. His chest no longer moving. Sliding his lifeless eyes closed while saying a short prayer in his head, Kenny stuffs the bottle in his pants pocket and proceeds on his way to the tavern.
The next morning Kenny is intercepted by a group of men in black while on his way to the address he was given to last night. He doesn't know whether to curse his luck or not, but seeing as how these are his henchmen he feels both the former and latter. Of course they would show up out of nowhere when not a single person is within the vicinity. Even though this side of town always seems empty, there'd be at least one or two people wandering about. How'd these guys even know he'd come out this early anyway?
"Your father requests for your presence, Kenneth McCormick," one of them mentions.
Kenny rolls his eyes, even more annoyed at them for wearing suits in this warm heat. He has his jacket tied around his waist, not because he thought the temperature would drop later on in the day, but because it's a cherished item. It's the middle of Spring, only on some nights it gets cold. "Yeah no shit, just take me to 'em so we can get this over with." He walks over to a shiny ebony car parked beside the sidewalk, a bodyguard politely opening the backseat door for him. Once he's settled in, the rest get into the other two cars and drive off in a neat line. Just the mere thought of seeing his pops again after several months makes him highly uncomfortable, but this time he's going to see him with a purpose. He tries to think of happy, funny thoughts during the duration of the ride.
It takes over an hour for them to arrive at Kenny's father's place. Stepping out of the vehicle, Kenny gives the large manor a scowl of disdain before walking up the alabaster steps. Upon entering, a pretty and petite waitress welcomes him then escorts him to a room his father is currently waiting for him in. He pities the people who have to work under that scumbag, sure they get a tremendous amount of money for doing their job, on top of free lodging and food, but if he looks at the woman walking alongside him he can clearly see that those benefits are virtually meaningless.
Feeling the teen's gaze on her, she gives him a small smile, the bags underneath her eyes projecting the sleepless nights she's undergone. Kenny looks away, casting his attention to the spotless tiles below. No one knows what goes on in this mansion behind closed doors, no one except Kenny, since he was subjugated to such cruelty in the past.
The blonde's eyes darken as does his mood, this is another reason why he loathes coming here. It always digs up the horrible memories he'd desperately buried deep within his mind, and it greatly pisses him off. Why's it so difficult to get rid of traumatizing memories yet they can resurface so easily as they please? Kenny never understood that.
Just like how he never understood the reason of his mother's abandonment. The McCormick's didn't always live this lavish lifestyle-no, it's been just him living the rich life. It was Kenny's mother's dream to one day experience it. Inexplicably she left long before that wish became reality. Kenny was merely a baby when she walked out of their small home and never returned, only him, his father, and older brother Kevin remained. They weren't poor, but they were struggling to get by every now and then. Especially since the woman distanced herself from them, for good.
When Kenny turned 5 years old, their father suddenly handed the responsibility of him over to his sibling, who was 11 years old. The man's reason was simply because he couldn't handle taking care of two kids by himself. Then he was gone, not bidding them a goodbye similar to how their mother did. The house immediately became emotionally empty.
The boys stayed there for seven years, not like they had anywhere else to go to, even as the bills started piling up. Kevin did his very best to keep them from getting evicted by working jobs that were inclined to hire him, all Kenny could do was wait for him to come home.
This continued on until Kevin hit 18 years of age. He had enlisted into the army, their enemy was Iraq. 12 year old Kenny didn't want him to leave, he would be utterly alone if he did. But Kevin was one of the few men that were willing to serve and protect their country, even at the cost of his own life. He knew it was a selfish decision, and nothing he said could abate Kenny's worries and fears. In the end Kevin departed for the military, leaving Kenny in the custody of his high school friend. His name was Johnathan Collins, he was a dark haired brunette with steel grey eyes.
Jonathan's parents were very kind enough to allow Kenny to live with them, in return they wanted Kevin to come back alive.
At the time Kenny didn't go to school (Still doesn't actually) so Jonathan was forced to become his tutor. He was an only child so he tried to talk his parents into sending Kenny off to school, they'd asked Kenny himself if that was what he wanted and he didn't hesitate to shake his head no. Thus Jonathan was stuck doing the assigned task.
Initially it was bothersome. Kenny hadn't uttered not one word to them since he'd moved in, giving off the impression that he was antisocial. The notion wasn't exactly far off, but neither was it accurate. He'd nod or shake his head whenever asked a question and that was it. The Collins knew about his circumstances so they didn't force him to talk or anything for the next several weeks, however being his mentor did become a huge pain in the ass. But he at least followed instructions, asking no questions no matter how illogical the assignments were.
After two months, the sturdy barrier that isolated Kenny from people began to crumble. All it took was a little warming up to and some patience, now Kenny saw the Collins as his new family. He didn't mind having two elder brothers, however Kevin was his legitimate brother so he obviously favored him more. Oh how he missed him...
One evening during Kenny's study session, Jonathan had asked him a rather strange question. "Do you know you look like a girl?" The query sounded more like an acknowledgement rather than a belief.
The two were in the chocolate haired brunette's room: He had a small television, a desk with a crooked lamp on top of it, a closet, and a bathroom. Kenny had envied the older boy at first, but had never let it show. He had a room much like this one now. Jonathan was sat crisscross on his bed while Kenny was working at the desk, the setting sun being his light source instead of the lamp.
Finishing what he was writing in his composition book, the golden haired boy's face formed into a puzzled frown. He didn't know how to answer the teen's question. Perhaps Jonathan asked that due to the current length of his hair, it had grown passed his shoulders, bringing out his dainty features.
"Was just askin'," Jonathan shrugged. "You already have the face and body like one, now that your hair's all long you definitely pass off as a girl."
"..I see," Kenny muttered dryly, resuming what he was doing.
"Except when you talk," the older boy added humorously. He stared at the silky blonde locks for a moment. His mother had been tending to his hair, and had even jokingly referred to Kenny as the daughter she'd wished she'd also given birth to. "How 'bout I give you a hair cut?"
Kenny paused again, his frown never-changing though he did take the offer into consideration. He wasn't fond of Mrs. Collins calling him her daughter, even though she meant no harm by saying that. He knew very well that he was a male, despite his outward appearance. So if he didn't want other people mistaking his gender, then he's going to have to make it known to them. With that last thought sealing the deal, he came to a decision. He looked over at Jonathan. "Okay."
Nodding, the teen hopped down from his bed, making his way out of his room. "I'll be right back." Opening the door, he walked out leaving it ajar.
While he waited for his return, Kenny looked over the notes he'd jotted down and studied them. Out of all the subjects he'd been taught so far, biology was his favorite. Learning about nature and the life of organisms fascinated him far more than adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing numbers, social studies was just plain boring, and science; he liked that one too.
After a few minutes, Jonathan ambled back into the bedroom. In his hands was a medium-sized black leather bag. He nudged his head towards his bathroom. "C'mon." He entered it, flipping on the light. Closing his notebook, Kenny joined him. Setting the bag down on the countertop sink, Jonathan hummed thoughtfully. "Lemme go grab a stool." He hurried out in search for the chosen seat.
Once again having to wait, Kenny glanced around the lavatory. It was white and clean. He'd already figured Jonathan was a tidy person based off of the state of his room, was strict too. He'd threw a tiny fit three days ago when Kenny had forgotten to dispose of the balled up papers he'd left on the desk after studying.
The boy inhaled, a sugary scent travelling into his nostrils, akin to the one in the brunette's room. It reminded Kenny of vanilla, having the ice cream once before as a treat for his obedient cooperation to be under Jonathan's tutelage. He then looked into the mirror, his reflection mimicking the downward curl of his lips. Not only did he look more girly than he thought, his hair was a similar length as his mother's. He wouldn't have known had he not seen a picture of her before, she had red hair and maroon colored eyes.
"Why'd you leave us?" He wondered aloud almost inaudibly, the sadness in his tone spoke volumes.
Hearing oncoming footsteps, Kenny quickly wiped his eyes, ridding away the tears. Jonathan came back carrying a silver stool, telling Kenny to move over a bit he placed it directly in front of the sink. "Sit."
Kenny did as curtly told while Jonathan rounded the other side to get to the bag. Unzipping it, Kenny watched him pull out a black cloth through the mirror. Turning away, Jonathan flung the item in his grip, the unknown fabric creating a loud whoosh of air that made Kenny flinch. Jonathan repeated the action once more, then faced him draping the material down in front of him. He wrapped it around his neck, it reached all the way down to the floor. Kenny wanted to ask what this was, but thought it best not to so he didn't embarrass himself.
"How do you want it?" Jonathan asked rummaging through the bag for the needed tools. "Short? Cut all off? Ooor?" He'd drawn out the word to give Kenny an option to voice out his own cutting method.
"I..I guess short?" Kenny's response came out uncertain. He didn't care as long as he no longer looked effeminate.
After extracting out a pair of clippers and an electrical razor, Jonathan looked down at Kenny's hair. He raised a hand to get a feel of their healthy, smooth strands, so this was what a feather felt like. Kenny suppressed a shudder, he still wasn't used to people touching his hair this affectionately. "Hmm, I know what to do." And with that all being said, Jonathan got right to work.
The process lasted for half an hour, the end results surprised Kenny immensely. His hazel eyes gaped at the shortened state of his once long hair, it wasn't cut too short, just about at the nape of his neck. Jonathan even took the liberty of styling it for him, in the beginning he was trying out different looks he thought were suitable for Kenny. But not a single one fit, his face was too pretty for them. So in the end, Jonathan gave him a more scruffy appeal. They weren't going anywhere today anyway, though his mother might say something about it once she saw the boy.
"I did pretty good huh?" Jonathan beamed, proud of himself.
Kenny's features softened, he didn't mind looking like he'd just gotten out of bed. The hairstyle brought out a more boyish charm. "Yeah, thank you."
Patting his shoulder, Jonathan took the bag back where he had gotten it from. Kenny stared at his reflection again, only to see him boring a blank expression. He opened his mouth and said,
"We are here, Young Master Kenneth."
The soft female voice brings Kenny back to present time. He blinks twice, color reappearing in his hazel iris'. He raises his head to see himself standing before a pair of brown wooden doors, he tenses. "Thanks," he says monotonously. The waitress bows, taking her leave.
All at once, a flood of emotions overwhelm him, he's still not fully over reliving part of his past. That moment of happiness with the Collins did not last long. Steeling himself, Kenny pulls one of the doors back then walks through it.
The clear sky greets him, the sun overhead lighting up a fraction of the vast room. He doesn't care about none of the decor nor his reason for being summoned here, he only wants to confirm the killer of his comrade, exact some form of revenge if his father turns out to be the culprit, then leave. He nears the wide wooden desk in the center of the room, sat behind it in a big leather chair is a light brown haired man unfit for professional attire. His brown eyes narrow impatiently.
"About damn time ya showed up," Stuart grumbles grabbing an inky mug that's on his desk and raising it up to his lips, taking a sip of his coffee.
Glaring back, Kenny stops in the middle of two reddish-brown chairs that are positioned separately in front of the desk. "Whatever, you know I'm only here cuz I have a question."
Stuart sets his mug down gently. "I ain't gonna answer nothin' unless you tone down the attitude." His son huffs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And my business comes first so have a seat, yer gonna be here a while."
"Fuck that," Kenny sneers." Either answer my question or I'm out, I ain't stayin' to hear whatever bullshit you have to say." Plus he has somewhere he needs to be.
"You don't have a choice son-"
"Don't." That one word was uttered with so much contempt that it startles Stuart. "Don't you dare call me your fuckin' son. After you and that bitch abandoned us you don't have the right."
"Watch yer mouth," Stuart frowns. "But yer right I don't, but I brought both you and Kevin into this world-"
"Only to leave ours," Kenny says, his expression calm despite the rage boiling inside him. Perhaps he should carry out his revenge plan right here and now, whether his father is guilty or not. He can either use the coffee mug or the couple pens on the desk as a weapon. But a voice in the back of his mind dissuades him not to grab either, to wait for an opportune time. Killing the man in his very own house wouldn't be the wisest thing to do. Heeding it's sensible advice, Kenny turns and makes his way out, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"Men!"
As soon as Stuart shouted, four of his bodyguards from earlier barge in and surround Kenny on all sides, thoroughly nullifying his chances of escape. Or so they think. He could've taken down half of these guys this morning, but now he can since he's in the mood; guns nor burly men scare him in the slightest.
"Lower yer weapons," Stuart sighs, the men do as ordered. He stands up from his chair. "So that question of yers, you wanna know if I'm Ben's killer. Ain't that right?"
Tightening his jaw in frustration, Kenny turns around. "Since you know his name then that means you are."
Stuart smirks at his son's dagger-like glare. "Yep, I only did it because he was snoopin' around where his nose didn't belong. No thanks to you."
There's a beat of silence. "So he got it from this old bastard huh? Ben, you ballsy dumbass." Kenny copies his old man's grin. "Heh, sucks you did a piss-poor job cuz he still got the job done. I had a feelin' it was either you or another sonovabitch I know that went after 'em." Before anyone knows it, Kenny dashes towards his father at the speed of a cheetah, seizing an ink pen from off the desk. Bumping hard against the edge, he leans forward holding the pen threateningly over the man's eye, spilling coffee on most of his paperwork and other documents. "Thanks for givin' me another reason to kill you," he utters in a low hiss.
Unfazed, Stuart's smile merely broadens. "You got the balls to do it boy? As soon as you kill me, you'll be joinin' me in hell right after."
A very stiff silence engulfs the room, Stuart's bodyguards having their guns trained intently on Kenny's figure. Ready to shoot if needed. The tension lasts another minute longer.
"Tch." Tossing the pen aside, Kenny backs away. Shoving his hands back into his pockets, he once again heads towards the opened doors. The four men block his path again.
"Let 'em go," Stuart says, and they move out of the blonde's way without any objections.
Kenny pauses in the doorway. "You better watch your back from now on." Sticking up a middle finger, Kenny continues on his way. One day, one day he will kill him.
Stuart shakes his head. "You guys take him back home, even if he kicks up a fuss."
"Yes sir," the brawny men reply in unison. Pocketing their guns, they walk out with one of them shutting both doors.
Stuart heaves a sigh. "He sure grew into one feisty lil brat." Turning around, he approaches the widespread windows, smiling sadly up at the pale blue sky. "Reminds me so much of you, Carol."
*That Afternoon: Outside The Airport*
A black haired young man stretches his arms high above his head, groaning delightedly at the feel of his rigid muscles popping loose. He detests plane rides, sitting in one spot for hours is painfully exhausting. Even more so when children are on board, pestering you with nonsensical rambling. Why'd they choose him of all people? He had to endure their babbling far longer than he wanted to, those brats' parents needed a good scolding.
"Stan, you're finally here!" A gruff voice calls out to him.
Stan looks in the direction of where he heard them from, smiling with a wave at a cleanly shaven man coming his way. He tries not to laugh at the sun brightly reflecting off his dome, which could potentially blind a person. "Hey Davis."
Davis Bryant shoots him a lighthearted glare. "I've been waiting out here for nearly ten minutes, what was the hold up?"
As much as Stan wants to go on a rant about children not all being as innocent as they appear to be, he decides to keep his reply concise. "Uh well, simply put, kids."
That was enough to make Davis cringe. "Yikes, not just one but two." It was actually three, but Stan doesn't feel the need to tell him that otherwise he'd start ranting from there. Davis places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to say, "You didn't strangle them did you?"
"Wha-of course not!" Stan can't believe those last six words flew out of his partner's mouth so casually, these are children they're talking about! No matter how troublesome they are, they don't need to be choked for it.
"Aww relax, you know I was just jokin'," Davis laughs, giving his back a rough slap.
Having the air knocked out of him, Stan stumbles but quickly catches himself. "Can we go now?" He huffs.
"Oh right, let's go. I parked over there." Jabbing a thumb at his car that's just a short walk from where they're standing, Davis goes over to it. Gripping the handle to his luggage, Stan trails after him. "Put your stuff in the trunk." As soon as he said that, Davis unlocks the back compartment of his vehicle.
Pushing the handle down, Stan picks up his baggage and lays it down in the trunk, closing it afterwards. He gets into the car, sitting in the passengers seat. Once he buckles up, Davis revs up the engine and drives off.
"I hope you ate because we're heading straight to the police station," Davis says sternly.
"That's fine with me." Stan hadn't consumed anything since presumably last night on the plane, but it's fine. He can eat later. After his confirmation, Davis presses a little harder on the gas pedal.
That evening, the two boys' paths cross. But under dire circumstances.
Just an hour or so ago, Kenny was walking home after stopping by the address Ben left him. The visit was an...interesting one. But not in a good way, it was more weird and unsuspecting.
The place was a nonprofit clinic. After craftily specifying his purpose for coming there to one of the ladies at the front desk - omitting the drug he'd brought along and flashing her a seductive grin for good measure - he was told to go to a doctor named Tweek Tweak, whose office was stationed at the very end of the hallway once he'd went past the door that led to the other rooms. Following the woman's instructions after acquiring her phone number, Kenny soon happened upon a closed wooden door. He knocked on it, promptly being granted entrance inside.
Opening the door, an acrid smell hit his nose but he held back a groan. This room was a bit bigger than the other ones he'd saw, was remodeled too. Sat across from him on a stool with his back facing him in front of a colorless table was a man wearing a long white lab coat. Pushing the door closed, Kenny approached him. He seemed normal until Kenny got a closer look at him, at his hair more specifically. The man's blonde locks were sticking out all over the place on his head, giving off a mad scientist vibe.
Dr. Tweak stopped what he was doing and turned to him, there were dark rings around his blue-green eyes. Further making him look the part. "What can I do for you?"
Kenny didn't expect for him to sound so..calm while looking sleep-deprived. "U-umm, I was told to come here from a friend." He fished the drug out of his pants pocket. "He said you'd know what this is."
The doctor frowned at the vial. "It's cocaine." After stating that in an unimpressed tone, he turned away.
Kenny frowned also, the fact that he sounded so certain worried him a little. Did doctors normally point out drugs so easily? "I thought it was called banana fish."
Slowly, Dr. Tweak faced him again. "Banana fish?" He repeated cautiously. He snatched the small container out from Kenny's hand, holding it really close to his face. He then plucked the top off, sniffing the drug like a dog trying to find it's bone. This guy was starting to freak Kenny out, he wanted to go home. The man's eyes suddenly grew large. "Oh my God, it really is banana fish!" He exclaimed feverishly, quickly covering his mouth afterwards.
Kenny sweatdropped. "Okay thanks, that's all I wanted to know-"
"Tell me," the sporadic haired blonde shot up from his seat, staring Kenny dead in his eyes, his own appearing crazed. "How'd you get this?! Did your friend give it to you?!"
Kenny took a step back. "I-I can't really say-"
"Don't worry," Dr. Tweak took a step forward. "I won't report you to the police! I'll keep it a secret! I swear!"
Before Kenny punched him for not only invading his personal space but being a total creep on top of that, a pained moan sounded from behind him. He turned his head back, shocked to see that a person had been lying on the bed all this time, a white sheet placed over their midriff. A wheelchair was folded next to the bed. That man...looked kind of familiar.
The doctor cleared his throat. "Sorry, I got a little carried away."
Kenny looked to him in disbelief. "That's one hell of an understatement."
Ignoring his comment, Dr. Tweak fastened the lid back on the vial. "You only wanted to confirm it's name?"
"Y-yeah," Kenny answered. It wasn't necessarily the truth, Ben had already told him what the drug was. He just wasn't comfortable asking this 'mad doctor' anymore questions regarding it. "Actually, how'd you know what it was from only takin' a few whiffs of it?"
"Well, that man over there is a victim of the drug," Dr. Tweak said gesturing towards his patient.
Kenny looked at the person again, once again getting struck with a sense of familiarity. The man was skinny and looked depressed, his eyes were a dark green but appeared nearly black, his brown hair reached down to his shoulders. Kenny felt bad for him, he had to fight for both his life and the country's then got exposed to a drug. How could he not feel sympathy for him?
"I've been keeping him here for future tests," Dr. Tweak explained. "As well as trying to help him recuperate from his injuries from the war. I have yet to know how he came across this infamous drug, all he's been saying was banana fish ever since he was dropped off here."
A wounded solider was brought here? To a small clinic instead of a hospital? Sounded very fishy, even more so since Dr. Tweak didn't answer Kenny's question. But that aside this nagging feeling was starting to bug the teen, he got the suspicion that him and that man were acquaintances somehow. "What's his name?"
"Uh, I think it's Kevin McCormick?" Dr. Tweak responded, unsure.
"...Kevin?" Instantly, Kenny was doubtful as he narrowed his eyes at the listless brunette in bed. There's not an ounce of resemblance between him and his older brother, well except for his hair color. Kenny blinked, suddenly seeing a vivid ghost-like image of his 18 year old sibling whisking into his view right next to the bed, smiling sadly at him just like on the day he left for war. Their hair color looked exactly alike like he'd perceived, although younger Kevin's eyes were brighter than his older version's, despite the doleful glint.
"N-no way..."
Feeling his body weigh a ton, Kenny took one step at a time towards the man. There was one thing he needed to confirm. The doctor watched him without saying a word. By the time Kenny was near the bed, Kevin's ghost had long since vanished. Kenny studied the brunette's face closely, eyes widening when he spotted what he was searching for. Right up under his left eye, was a mole. This was indeed Kevin McCormick.
"...Ba..nana..fish..." Those words came out in a hoarse whisper.
Releasing a choked sob, Kenny burst into tears. His older brother was alive. His one and only family returned to him alive...But unfortunately not well.
"..." Kenny stopped walking, glancing up at the orange sky. He didn't feel like going home anymore right now, he's got a lot on his mind and he didn't feel like being bothered to spill what's troubling him to the two members of his crew that he lived with. They're so freaking nosy, but Kenny wasn't really vexed by it for he knew that they were like that out of concern for him. They just didn't need to know everything that upset him. Deciding to go to the bar to unwind, before Kenny could even move a leg a voice addressed him from behind.
"Um excuse me young man?"
Heaving an annoyed sigh, Kenny turned around to see two men approaching him. One was bald carrying a camera around his neck and the other had a full head of jet black hair holding a notepad and pencil, he'd never seen either of them before. "What?" He growled.
The bald headed man's friendly smile visibly twitched, but he kept it in place. "We'd like to ask you a couple questions. Is now a good time?"
"No." Then Kenny spun around, walking two steps when a different voice spoke.
"Well well well, look who we have here." Kenny's posture tensed with rising anger. Sauntering out of a nearby building four feet away was one of his pain in the ass rivals: Craig Tucker. He was a little over 6ft tall while Kenny stood exactly at that height, but he's also 17. Two of his lackeys accompanied him, all three smirking smugly. "The hell you doin' on my turf McCormick?" Craig demanded, amusement filled in his deep, nasally voice.
"Last I checked my place was just blocks away from here, so you're on my turf dumbass."
Kenny's savage remark put an irate scowl on Craig's handsome face. "Get 'em."
His subordinates charged forward, Kenny preparing himself to take them down. However they sprinted straight past him. Noticeably confused, Kenny observed Craig, but all he did was show off his perfectly white teeth.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Kenny twirled his body around, seeing Craig's underlings holding the two men captive with both of their arms pinned to their backs. "Let go of us!" The hairless man snarled, squirming to free himself. These teenagers were surprisingly strong!
"Why were ya'll still here?!" Kenny asked, more dumbfounded than angry.
"All we wanted was to ask you three or four questions! That was it!" The older looking man snapped. His companion was being oddly quiet and placid.
And now we proceed onward with their predicament in present tense.
Kenny faces Craig with a glare. "Don't drag them into this Tucker. Let 'em go."
"Psh, who are you to give me orders?" The noirette jeers, then he looks to his crewmates. "You guys go into that alley over there." He nudges his head to the side, and they do as commanded.
Turning back around, Kenny dashes towards the four, skidding to a halt when two pocket knives are suddenly held up to the men's throats. The black haired one's composure wavering. They continue to be led into the alleyway.
Kenny grits his teeth, well this is just fucking great. "Not lookin' good for you McCormick." Warm fingers abruptly grip his chin, forcing his head to the side. His hazel eye piercing up slightly into arrogant amber ones directly near his face. "This time, I win."
Kenny loses the scowl, Craig looking pleased at the disheartened expression he's been longing to see from this conceited bastard. But then Kenny smirks. "Yeah right." He elbows Craig in the gut, the blow harsh enough to make him double over threatening to throw up. "The only time you'll beat me is in your dreams." Kenny rushes towards the alley, the moment he looks down the dark filthy passageway, his eyes enlarge.
He drops to his knees, his head hanging low so that his blonde bangs conceal his eyes.
After the pain ebbed some and he was able to swallow the surging bile down, Craig stands up straight with a palm over his abdomen. He notices Kenny's presumptuous attitude had left him quicker than it had manifested, but he isn't about to fall for his trap twice in a row.
"You've gone too far Craig."
Said teen furrows his eyebrows quizzically. The only time Kenny ever refers to him by his first name is when he's pissed off and/or being dead serious, so which is it he wonders.
"You..." Kenny's form starts trembling, his hands on the ground balling into fists. "You killed them!" He shouts, scaring away a bird that was perched atop of an arch of a street lamp on the opposite side of the road.
"...Y-you're lying," Craig stutters, becoming nervous. "I didn't order them to do that."
Kenny whirls his head around in his direction, the pure rage in his tear-leaking eyes taking him aback. "I told you to leave them outta this, but you didn't fuckin' listen! Now they're dead! You killed innocent people you dumbfuck!"
Craig takes a wobbly step back, breaking out into a cold sweat. "N-no, t-they...I-I didn't..." He runs away, not stopping until he's completely gone from sight.
"...Hmph, moron."
Laughing, Kenny stands up drying his face. "Ya'll can come out now."
Stepping past the unconscious bodies, the two males walk back onto the sidewalk. "That was some great acting kid," baldy says admirably.
"You two are morons also," Kenny retorts.
"Sorry," the reserved noirette finally speaks, picking up the notepad and pencil he'd dropped.
"So yeah about those questions..."
The following day they meet again, this time the younger adult came to see him without his colleague. They're standing face to face within a rundown apartment, Kenny glaring suspiciously into sapphire eyes from behind the doorway of his suite.
"How the hell you know where I live?" Kenny demands straight away. He regrets not checking the peephole first, no one but his gang stops by anyway.
Stan raises a hand up to the back of his head, chuckling sheepishly. "Well, Davis sorta, ya know-"
"No, I don't know." Kenny narrows his eyes menacingly. "Better tell me the truth or-"
"Davis tailed one of your buddies and saw them come here."
Silence.
"What'd he look like?"
"He only knew that he was about the size of a preteen and had a tuft of blonde hair."
Kenny clicks his tongue. Fucking Butters, that oblivious boy. "So, whaddya want?" He sighs.
The noirette smiles. "For you to answer some questions, and maybe take one or two pictures." He'd brought Davis' camera along with the writing materials he had yesterday.
Kenny looks at him blankly before closing the door. A hand stops him halfway. "Please, I promise I won't take up too much of your time."
"I already told you no now fuck off!"
The squabble between who can overpower the other prolongs for nearly five minutes, luckily for them this whole apartment was property of Kenny's crew, who were all out at the moment except for two. Had this place still been up and running, they would've been kicked out for the ruckus they're creating.
"Damn this guy's strong!" Kenny thinks, his muscles starting to ache. "Why the hell are you so fuckin' persistent?! Go bother someone else with your stupid questions!"
"No it has to be you," the other argues. "You're the leader of your gang so only you can answer the questions that I have!"
His last statement surprises Kenny, causing him to let up. Stan, who was still trying to keep the door open ends up smacking it in Kenny's face. Hard. The force of the impact was loud and painful enough to make Stan wince, and send Kenny sprawling to the floor. Just as he's about to apologize, Stan sees that Kenny is knocked out cold with a bruised nose and lip.
"Oh my God!" Panicking, Stan kneels down next to the comatose teen. He hopes he didn't break any bones in his face...
"Jeez what's going on..in here...?"
Startled, Stan looks up towards the voice. Standing in a short corridor connecting to the spacious living room is a tall boy with neck-length light brown hair and blue eyes, an inches shorter blonde with sky blue eyes sticking close to him. Stan immediately recognizes the second child from the yellow strands in the middle of his head, but then notices them eying their inert friend, looking at him shortly after. "Uh, I can explain." He feels himself starting to sweat under their intense gaze.
"You'd better not had killed him!" The little blonde hollers, sounding more troubled than furious.
"No no he's not dead, just out cold for the time being," Stan says. "I..accidentally slammed the door into his face, but I swear it was an honest accident!" He hurriedly clarifies just as they narrow their eyes at him.
The taller boy crosses his arms. "Well, from all the commotion we heard just now I think I can kinda guess how it escalated to this point, so save your excuses." He enters the living room, the other boy following. "Once the boss wakes up we'll tell him that we kicked your ass and scared you off." They stop near Stan and Kenny, the light brunette scooping Kenny up in his arms, with relative ease Stan notes. "But it'd be a good idea for you to get outta here, leave the state unless you don't wanna be hunted down for the rest of your life."
Rising to his feet, Stan gives him a faint smile. "I appreciate the warning, but I can't leave without apologizing. If you don't mind, can I stay here until he wakes up?"
Deep blue eyes lock onto his in stunned silence. "...You wanna interrogate him that badly huh?"
"Are you a cop?!" The boy yells again.
Stan shakes his head. "I am but a mere photographer's assistant that wants to know and document the gang activities that's been happening around here."
"A..photographer's assistant?" The peanut colored haired teen murmurs in incredulity. But he shakes his head, not believing him but also not caring. Cop, photographer's assistant or whatever, Kenny won't give this guy the answers he wants. He walks away muttering, "Don't say I didn't warn you" back into the single hallway within the compartment with the blonde boys in tow, leaving Stan by himself in the living room.
/
When Kenny comes to, the sun is leisurely setting below the horizon.
He stirs, face contorting in grimace as a dull pain shoots up in his face. Blinking his eyes open with a groan, he notices he's laying face up in bed in his room, an orange glow peeking in through the curtain of a window. One of the very few that's not boarded up in this apartment.
Kenny carefully sits himself up, wincing at the throbbing ache, originating from his nose and bottom lip. He raises a tentative hand up to his face, feeling a plaster over the bridge of his nose and nothing but a cut on his lip. In that instant, the events that transpired earlier plays out in his mind, last recalling his world going black. Feeling a rush of anger at the thought of having been knocked out for not letting the man have his way, Kenny hops out of bed, storming straight to the living room. Once there, he spots half of his squad (consisting of more than the present ten members) crowding around the couch, looking back at him upon his hasty, thudding footsteps in evidently increasing dread.
"H-hello boss!" One of them says breaking the brief soundless ambience. "Feeling better now?"
Kenny slants his eyes at him, cowering at the acute skepticism burning in his hazel iris'. He ambles towards the group. "The hell's goin' on in here?"
"We tried getting him to leave, but he wouldn't budge," another person states less nervously. "Been here since this morning from what Allen said."
To see whom the year older boy was referring to, Kenny rounds the front of the sofa, his eyes narrowing into slits. Sat like a child that was being scolded by his parents is the insistent fucker from this morning. In one swift motion, Kenny reaches for the collar of his shirt, yanking him up on his feet. He gazes icily into sapphire orbs.
"Since you stayed that means you're ready to die," Kenny utters darkly. "Got any last words?"
"Yes, I wanna apologize," is the mellow reply he receives. "I am really sorry. If it'll make you feel any better you can hurt me however you want. I won't resist."
Kenny glares longer into his worried-free eyes, he was sincere. "Tch." Kenny lets him go, he's still peeved but isn't about to start wailing on someone who isn't going to fight back. Putting two fingers up to his temple, he sighs heavily as he massages the sprouting headache. "Why are you all here?" He questions his crewmates.
"We heard what happened to you and rushed over," a teen with a black mohawk and dark brown eyes answers overtly. "We were gonna beat him up for what he did, but knew you'd do it instead."
Kenny sighs again, lowering his hand. "Well as you can see I'm fine, ya'll can leave now." He looks to Stan, narrowing his eyes into a light scowl. "You...can stay."
Shock appears on Stan's face, while the others frown and/or grumble to one another as they reluctantly walk towards and out the front door. Eventually it is just Kenny, Stan, Allen, and Butters, but Allen and Butters soon retreat to their rooms.
Kenny gestures for Stan to sit back down on the divan, doing so as he heads for the kitchen. He comes back with two cans of soda, handing Stan one as he sits down next to him, keeping the other one. "So, three or four questions was it?" Kenny quotes, cracking open his beverage.
"Five now," Stan smiles, doing the same to his drink. "And one or two pictures."
Since that day Kenny thought he'd never see the noirette again, whose name he'd finally gotten to know amid the questioning. He'd refused to have any pictures of himself taken. Kenny had asked the older his own set of questions in turn, and Stan answered them truthfully. Three days later, the 'assistant photographer' reappears before his front doorstep, the bald guy he presumes named Davis tagged along with him. Kenny knows right then they're here to question him further as well as try to snap some photos of him, much to his annoyance and just like the day they'd first approached him, he declines. However they - expectedly - didn't give up, and for a whole week they kept coming by. Either together or separately.
With each passing day, Kenny struggled to refrain himself from hurting both males and was really close to sending them to the hospital for asking him about his involvement with banana fish. It was classified information only him, certain people in his clique, and Dr. Tweak were supposed to know, he had no one to blame but himself for slipping up that day. All because Stan had asked him if his family knew of his 'rebellious' affiliation with his gang. Some of his fellow members volunteered to keep watch of the men, but Kenny didn't allow it nor did he need them being his bodyguards. Although he was grateful for their concern.
Skip to three weeks later and nothings changed, well regarding Stan's and Davis' annoying asses. Banana fish had claimed more than twenty people these past four weeks, but that wasn't all. Craig's gang as well as two others had been stirring up trouble, standing out more on the polices' radar. Bunches of idiots. Kenny's squad stayed low, as they should whenever they went out. Like tonight.
Kenny wanted to drown his irritation in a sea of alcohol that Saturday night, his whole crew is with him. They're heading to his one and only favorite bar, and is partway there until a band of people spring up from out of both ends of the alleyway they're in, every single one of them wielding a weapon.
While his boys start complaining and worrying about this absurd ambush, Kenny waits for the obvious assholes to show themselves, his hand fiddling with the switchblade in his pants pocket. His orange jacket is tied around his neck, since it's not all that cold like it had been the previous nights before. Especially now since they're stuck in one spot filled with over a dozen teenagers.
"Aw quit your fucking whining," says an unmistakable voice. The complaints die down, Kenny inwardly berating his crew for obeying someone that's not him. Scooting out of the way as much as they can within the cramped aisle, Craig and an individual behind him walk up front to the small clearing. Craig glares heatedly at Kenny. "You're one conniving bitch."
The corner of Kenny's lips curl into a derisive smirk. "Yeah? Well you're fuckin' stupid and a pussy."
"You fucker..." Craig growls through clenched teeth, glad that it's dark so no one can see the blush coloring his cheeks.
"Let's save the shit-talkin' for after we kick their asses okay?"
Stepping out from behind Craig is another teenager who's also a thorn in Kenny's side, he has short wild blonde locks and coal black eyes.
Kenny's lips broaden as he stills his fingers in his pocket. "Heh, my thoughts exactly Trent." His hazel eyes glinting excitedly, he flings his blade into view and the battle commences.
. . .
Beep...Beep...Beep...
A steady, high pitched sound looms into Kenny's eardrums. The longer it resonates in his ears, the more aggravating it becomes. Yearning to identify the source, he opens an eye, quickly squeezing it shut with a hiss as soon as a sharp pain blossoms on a specific part on his body. This feels like dejavu. Once the pang subsides, Kenny opens both eyes, entering his blurry vision is a white ceiling. The beeping becomes prominent amid the silence.
"The hospital huh..."
He's been here more than he can count ever since he divulged himself with the 'wrong crowd', they at least understand him better. Unlike the Collins did. He still loves them and won't ever forget their hospitality, but he feels he did the right thing by cutting off all relations with them.
Kenny thinks back to what happened last night to take his mind off of the family, bringing a smile to his face. He can't recall everything that went down exactly nor how he got here, except one thing. His gang coming out on top. Sure they were considerably outnumbered, but there were two things Craig's and Trent's gangs lacked: Skill and cooperation. Craig's flunkies couldn't really fight for shit other than the noirette himself, and always needed some sort of weapon to pose a threat. Trent's didn't know a thing or two about working as a team, and these factors led to their downfall. Kenny can't wait to flaunt their win in their faces once he gets discharged, they failed so pathetically it's hilarious.
"Do you always smile first thing you wake up?"
Kenny jolts, the heart rate monitor detecting the slight increase of his pulse. His widened eyes glance over to his left, seeing a black haired male seated right next to his bed. "S-Stan?!"
"Shhh," Stan shushes with a finger over his lips. "We're in the hospital."
Kenny rolls his eyes looking away, the shock diminishing as well as the beeping slowing down. "Yeah no shit. What, gonna question me now that I can't avoid you?"
Smiling softly, Stan shakes his head. "No, I've decided that line of work is far too dangerous for me. Davis got me into photography so I'm gonna start taking photos of nature and whatnot." Though he won't disclose the picture he took of the teen in secret, the angle and lighting that day he was following him was too perfect to pass up.
"Shoulda figured and done that from the get go."
"I did and I tried to, but Davis somehow talked me into documenting you guys with him." Kenny mumbles that they're complete idiots, to which Stan only laughs at in response. He's not entirely wrong. Stan then frowns down at his lap. "I'm glad you're okay though Kenny. You don't know how worried I was when I'd suddenly heard that you'd gotten admitted here."
Kenny slides his eyes over to him. "Someone told you?" He narrows them slightly to showcase his suspicion.
Stan lifts his head, nodding. "Called me actually, me and a few people from your gang exchanged contact information."
Kenny's glare hardens, an action Stan can understand and he apologizes for doing that behind his back. Kenny looks ahead with a huff, faintly wincing at the twinge in his stomach. "It's whatever. Just know that if they tell you anythin' and you spill it to the cops, ya'll are dead."
"Don't worry, even if they trust me enough to do that I won't tell a soul."
"They apparently trust you enough to give you their phone number." An awkward silence follows after Kenny's rather blunt statement, only the beeping from the monitor sounding in three second intervals overlaps the quietude.
"There's one thing I can't ignore," Stan mutters after a minute. Kenny doesn't bat him an eye. "And that's finding out the true identity of banana fish."
Those last two words bring about a mental image of an ill Kevin into the blonde's mind, nipping his bottom lip he shoves it away. "Don't be stupid, what good would that even do you?"
"It would be beneficial to everyone," Stan corrects. "If word about it's origin and distributors get out to the public, then they can be sent to prison for life. Thousands, if not millions of lives can be saved Kenny." The blonde makes a face, looking conflicted. What Stan just said, sounded so hopeful, so possible yet foolish at the same time. But for some reason, Kenny doesn't think it's that bad of an idea, just extremely dangerous. He's used to taking such risks and wouldn't mind being exploited to more, plus he also has a potential dealer of the drug in mind. But Stan - just from looking at him you can tell he's lived a normal, happy life. A life Kenny never gotten to experience. "Kenny, I know this is asking a lot, but...would it be okay if you, your gang, and I looked more into banana fish?"
Kenny's eyes go big. He gawks over at Stan, the noirette's eyes are closed tightly and his posture is tensed and anxious. "Are you fuckin' serious?"
After hearing his breathy query, Stan opens his eyes staring into his. "Very," Stan nods determinedly, his sapphire iris' containing a similar gleam.
Kenny frowns. "But you said you were gonna stick to takin' pics of nature an' shit. You changed your mind that fast?"
"Not necessarily. I can't see myself getting in to it knowing that there's a deadly drug killing people more than the other ones out there. I'm willing to put an end to it's existence, but I can't do that alone. So, will you help me? Will you help me make the world a slightly better place?"
Kenny regards Stan's facial features, the pleading look by itself tells Kenny he's dead set on achieving that goal. Kenny likes that kind of resolve, he grins. "Alright fine, I'll talk to my guys and see if they're down. I won't force them if they ain't up to it though."
"Really?!" Stan beams at his reply. "Thank you so much!"
His bright smile nearly blinds Kenny, he briskly averts his gaze forward, cursing the damned monitor for picking up speed. "Yeah yeah..." Kenny looks at him throughout the corner of his eye, not ready to see him as a whole as of yet. "But tell me, you know how to fight?"
Stan cocks an eyebrow. "Yes, why?" Kenny is left shocked once again as he gapes at him, but then Stan adds, "Oh because I'd need to defend myself in case you and your friends aren't around, duh." He smacks his forehead for noticing the obvious so late.
Kenny blinks. "You know how to fight for real?!" But then he recalls witnessing the noirette's strength that day they were bickering at the door...His muscles twitch.
"Yeah, I took down those guys that held Davis and I hostage that day." Kenny still doesn't look all that convinced, even though it's a high possibility. "You thought Davis did that didn't you?" When Kenny nods, Stan shakes his head. "Nope that was all me, been doing martial arts for seven years. Davis may have the build but he's not a fighter, and he definitely wasn't gonna beat up some teenagers." That makes sense, that guy should start choosing his words more carefully then if he doesn't want to fight anyone. Kenny swears he acts provocative on purpose. And as for Stan - if he says he can fight, lie or not Kenny will know for sure when the time comes.
They talk all the way to the afternoon. Six people from Kenny's gang pay him a visit, only sporting small cuts and/or bruises. Most of the others are in this very hospital, some having serious though not life-threatening wounds like Kenny, who'd suffered only a stab wound to the stomach, and the rest only sustained moderate injuries. After greeting each other and joking around for a bit, Kenny informs them about Stan's plan to expose banana fish and asks them if they're willing to help them. They agree with no ounce of hesitation, saying that if their boss is gonna do it then they will too. Stan commends them for their loyalty while Kenny does too, also calling them dumbasses.
Kenny then sees no need to question the others, they'll undoubtedly give him the same response. For the very first time in his life, he's genuinely eager for the upcoming days. Who knew meeting a wannabe investigator would change his future this much.
(A/n: Maybe I should make this into a story...? Well I originally wanted to make this into a two or three-shot - from as you can see how long it is lol but I'd gotten a request so I had to fit in as much as I could as a one-shot. Maybe if people like the South Park x Banana Fish crossover idea I'll do it, but if not...I'll still consider doing it lol I hope you enjoyed and the next chapter will be up soon)