Hello again. When I wrote the first chapter, I had debated whether or not I was going to make another chapter to it. In the end I decided to leave it open to see what kind of response it got.
As you can tell, I decided to go through with another chapter in the end. This is almost entirely thanks to the review left by Jack797, who is one of the greatest Kendy ship writers on the site, definitely the most frequent, and is one of my favorite writers. I was absolutely shocked when I saw that he had seen my story and decided to give it a review. That was incredibly special to me, and I have no shame in admitting that as I read it, even at 20 years old now, I squealed and danced with joy like a child on Christmas. Thank you Jack (or Richard Forrest going off your bio) for the review, I'm glad you liked the chapter and I hope you like this one as well.
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park. I have never owned South Park. And I probably never will own South Park.
But enough of this boring stuff, let's just get on with the story…
All was still in the McCormick household, and silent for the first time in ages. The drunk, drug-addict parents had passed out hours ago, and their children were fast asleep.
At least, that's what they thought. In the room of the middle child, there was an absence of a figure in the mattress on the floor that they called a bed.
Then, a gloved hand slid open the window and brown boots creaked against the old wooden sill. Mysterion slipped into the room and closed the window, hardly making a sound, then walked over to the closet to deposit his suit.
As he removed his cloak and hood his messy blonde hair was set free, followed by the half mask obscuring his face. Kenny McCormick, the poor kid by day, and town hero Mysterion by night, breathed a deep sigh as he removed his alter ego and returned to his normal self.
It was always strangely difficult to take off the suit at the end of his nightly escapades. As Mysterion, he felt free. Free to let out the pain and frustrations he kept inside. It made him feel stronger too. As the symbol for his town, he had gained quite the reputation, and he could see it through the worry in criminals eyes or the wonder in civilians when they saw him. There were even times where he felt more like himself when he donned the suit and cloak, when he could bring his pain to the forefront and let the world see what had kept inside.
Most of all though, he was known. People knew who he was the second they saw him, and they never forgot him (which was ironic considering how often he died, and they never remembered).
This stood in stark contrast to Kenny McCormick. He was almost always forgotten. Almost no one knew when he was there if they weren't talking to him, and despite his garish orange clothes, he had an uncanny knack for being invisible.
As Mysterion, he mattered.
But alas, he knew that things were the way they were, and he had accepted that.
He hissed as he removed his off-lavender under shirt, the bloody cuts that stained the fabric had dried over the several hours he had been out, but they still stung like a bitch. The slash to his chest was fine, maybe it would need a bandage or two, but it was otherwise fine. The stab wound in his side though would need a bit more care, and probably a few stitches.
Thankfully he had a first aid kit in his room for this very purpose. Pulling it out from the corner of his closet he placed it on his bed and took out various basic medical tools for the job.
To most it would look fairly gruesome and would warrant a trip to the hospital. But thanks to his vast experience with injuries far worse than this, and the fact that hospital bills are fucking expensive, he took a different route.
He cleaned the wound and poured some hydrogen peroxide into it, grimacing slightly from the aggravating sting, then dressed it for the stitches. He then took out a needle and thread and sewed the gash shut. A doctor would be proud of the expert technique he had with a needle, but getting to that point was a long road of trial and error that had more often than not ended with him making it worse or dying.
After he had sewed himself up and wrapped his abdomen in gauze, he placed the damaged suit into the closet drawer and made a mental note to clean and repair it later.
Normally he wouldn't have gone through the effort of treating his wounds and instead gone with a simple bullet to the head. But that was reserved for worse injuries that would take too long to heal or be a hindrance to his general activities, such as a broken arm or leg.
But since these were more superficial, nonlethal injuries he decided against it. After all, dying really fucking hurts.
Stripping down to his underwear he carefully laid himself into his bed and let his tired eyes fall shut. Before he slipped into what was likely to be another dreamless night his mind wandered back to what Wendy had said. He had known that she had been looking for him since she interviewed Kyle, who afterwards told him.
While he wouldn't have minded the attention, his duty to protect the down meant that he also had an image to keep. The symbol he represented was more impactful when people were left with less information about him, leaving their minds to fill in the rest. The reactions that he garnered from people when they saw him proved its effectiveness.
He also found the idea of Wendy chasing after him to be pretty funny.
Adjusting himself to as comfortable a position as was possible on his "bed", he drifted off to sleep.
The next day during recess Wendy is sat on the steps of the school with her notepad.
Last night when she got home she brainstormed how to go about figuring out Mysterion's identity. She was incredibly grateful to the vigilante for saving her, she still had a job to do. And last night's incident had reignited her drive to seek it out with new vigor.
After a short while she decided that the best way was to see which of the boys had the telltale injuries that Mysterion got during his fight.
She made a list of the boys and was able to cross out a few names right off the bat. Jimmy, Timmy, Token, Cartman, and Kyle were all obvious, as was Clyde since he was with Bebe last night and Butters since he had been in his villainous persona Professor Chaos.
She was also pretty sure that Tweak couldn't be him due to his jittery personality.
The last was someone who may have seemed possible to anyone but her, Stan. She knew that her current ex-boyfriend couldn't be the vigilante for a few reasons.
Firstly, as she noted when she saw Mysterion last night, he didn't have the same eyes as him. She could still see those vibrant sky blue orbs, staring at her with a deep sense of comfort and security, quite fitting of the vigilante.
Secondly, she knew Stan, and despite what he might say to the contrary she knew that he didn't have the drive or sheer force of will that Mysterion held. She had witnessed it first hand, and there was just no way he could possess what she saw, what she felt simply radiating off his presence. He truly was a beacon of hope.
The third was a lot less interesting but a lot more concrete. She had been with him one evening for a study date when Mysterion was out saving a woman from getting carjacked, that woman coincidently being her mother on her way home from work. Now that she thought about it that probably should have been her first reason. Actually it was the only one she really needed. She wasn't quite sure why she even felt the need to include the other two at all, maybe it was her making a subconscious dig at her ex?
Who knows. Not important.
What was important was that she had managed to narrow down her list of suspects. Unfortunately though, there were still quite a few left. What was worse is that she hadn't managed to get anything on anyone else. Their coats and jackets covered up where their injuries would be, and based on what she saw last night, whoever Mysterion was knew how to hide the pain well enough to not stand out.
With a sigh she let her notepad fall into her lap. She needed to rethink her approach, since asking to see the boys shirtless wouldn't look so good.
At her next meeting with the rest of the news team she knew that they were expecting something. But at the moment she wasn't all that much closer to figuring out who Mysterion was then when she started, and waiting for him to show up next wasn't a very reliable method.
She guessed that she could tell them about her encounter with him, maybe that would satisfy them for the time being.
"Come on Wendy, think. Think." She thought aloud.
["You know it's weird to sit alone talking to yourself, right?"]
"AHH!" She jumped before glaring daggers at the orange clad boy standing next to her.
"Damn it Kenny, don't sneak up on me like that! I just about punched you in the face."
["Uh, I walked right in front of you. Not exactly stealthy."] He said in his signature muffled voice from under his parka. Honestly, would it kill him to just move it down so it wasn't covering his mouth?
"Well, do you need something? I'm kind of busy studying for my paper." She asked.
["And I suppose it involves that list you've got there."] He said, pointing to the open pad in her lap.
"None of your business." She quickly closed it and pulled it to her chest.
["Ok then, I just saw that you were sitting by yourself and wanted to see if everything's alright. You're usually with the girls right now."] He said politely.
"I'm fine, I just have a bit on my plate right now. Look, Kenny, I appreciate your concern, but I need to get back to what I was doing, so do you mind?" She said. She hadn't meant to come off so rude, she was just frustrated at her situation. Plus, the boy was one of the suspects on her list, however unlikely he may have seemed.
Kenny held his hands up in defense and walked away, leaving her alone again and feeling a bit like a jerk.
Wendy tried various methods to find the telltale scars. Simply asking the boys if they had any and gauging their responses, taking note of their eye colours (which was surprisingly unhelpful. Seriously, how could all of them have blue eyes?), and even asking around to find out where they were last night, but it all ended up leading to nothing.
Despite her best efforts, and even after meeting the boy in person the night before, that day had been yet another waste.
As the final bell rang and she walked to the day's news meeting, her thoughts drifted back to the ever elusive vigilante.
Her intrigue in him had changed since last night, and she constantly found herself thinking of their interaction last night. How captivated she had been by his actions, and their conversation after he saved her.
She longed to see him again, but not entirely for her professional reasons. She wanted to get the chance to see his enchanting blue eyes again, and feel the aura of security he gave off.
In all, she wanted to see him again.
She felt a little embarrassed, the fact that she, the proud, strong-willed femenist was so entranced by the town's resident superhero. But then again, what was wrong with that? There were certainly much worse things she had done to be embarrassed of, like that time she kissed Cartman.
She didn't even bother to contain her shutter of disgust at that horrid memory.
When she made it to the door to the newsroom she gathered herself and her thoughts so that she could provide all the information she could on her encounter with Mysterion, with a few minor and unimportant details omitted of course.
For today, she would satisfy their curiosity with the story of her rescue.
Tomorrow, she would find more clues to the hero's identity, and maybe with luck, meet him again.
Thank you readers. I will try to have the next one out soon, but since my next university term starts in a few days, and my track record is super bad, I can't make any promises.
Reviews are always welcome. I always look forward to what you have to say.
Thank you all, and I will see you next time Titans…