"That's Mysterion's house. It looks dangerous. Should we really follow?"
"No, we can just take the other way around," Super Craig told Human Kite. "We can hop the fence. They'd suspect something if we all just came marching through their leader's home."
Scott, "But how are we going to investigate what Mysterion knows, like the Coon said? This would seem such a missed opportunity."
Kyle rested his eyes on the manimal, who was standing behind them self-importantly. "Let's let the dirty work fall to the Coon. This is all too much like cheating for me."
"We're only playing the game, Human Kite." The Coon smiled. "But I guess you're right. I'm the one who plays it best."
The Jew scoffed as Super Craig solemnly rolled his arm, gesturing his comrades to a route down the hills of SoDoSoPa. Mosquito zipped ahead and the Coon stayed behind.
Before the mission, Mysterion texted Stan that he would be resting first. He promised his ally that Butthole wouldn't recognize him, anyway, because he would be out of costume. At least, he hoped Butthole wouldn't recognize him.
A temporary relief, that's what he needed. Doctor Timothy himself suggested that he reconcile with himself, and the Coon. Maybe then the very thought of him wouldn't make his insides broil and burn. He curled up in bed, biding his time, feigning sleep. He wasn't tired, but he couldn't help the distant sense of weakness. The Kenny he was now slept only in his underclothes. It was a shameless thing to do.
The greatest irony was he didn't think twice about the advice Timmy had given him until he came home. It made so much sense at the time. Now he was sweating nervously underneath the covers.
There was nothing but the sound of crickets, what ones that chose to live in the slums of SoDoSoPa. It's not like he chose to live in this mangy hellhole.
Ugh, waiting in the silence was making him bitter. What the hell was he waiting for, anyway?
Objective one complete. Toolshed was successfully tricked by Butthole into helping Coon and Friends. But mostly the Coon.
He hadn't told anyone what exactly was what he was looking for. It was the assumption that he was looking for dirt on Freedom Pals in general. Who Mysterion was stealing from and how Cartman knew that was confidential. And that meant Butthole's discovery was privy, too. He had to find out Mysterion's dealings with Mitch Conner; he had to.
So he discreetly trailed Stan and the New Kid, looking for evidence of Mysterion's treachery. The whole of Kenny's house was the same garbage he grew up visiting. His goal was not to wake anyone, which was fair game since a McCormick slept like a rock. Well. When they weren't rocking back and forth in their beds. He scrunched his rodent nose when he detected a ruckus coming from Mr. And McCormick's bedchamber. After ten years of being Liane Cartman's son, he figured out what that sound meant. It also meant they weren't asleep. His only choice was breaking through the room of the nocturnal Mysterion. That was the jackpot, anyway. Now he was plundering with the bastard tricks of the Douche himself. Unlike Douchebag, he believed this was his business.
Stan and Douche were long past the room, vanished through the closet. The coast was clear, then. He opened the door, and he cringed as it squeaked. From what he could tell in the dim lighting, the room looked the same as it had always been. Nothing lying out in the open. So the evidence was hiding. In the drawers, maybe. Hoping for a stash of cheese vials, He opened the nightstand, and it opened and clacked more forcefully than intended. The room seemed empty, so he let himself breathe again.
Drawer after drawer he tried, growing anxious. Maybe the closet? His thoughts were interrupted when a form rose from the bed and approached him in the dark. He was almost afraid, but the advancing form was petite, and it touched him shyly.
Princess Kenny, is that you?
The Coon was immediately hypnotized: he recognized the touch, and he had forgotten how much he missed it. Without a word, a Kenny cast in shadow embraced the Coon, head burying into his chest. His heart pounded at the realization that Kenny had dressed in the one vesture of seduction— undergarments. Kenny pulled him into a kiss, and the button nose tilted up, along with the mask. At the moment the prideful vigilante could hardly mind it was coming off.
Mistakenly, he had thought no one was in the room, but Mysterion was one step ahead of him. He must have known that Cartman was on to him, that he could stop him by giving him the one thing he wanted. Throughout the repeated kisses, this revelation turned him uneasy, but he continued to kiss him.
Poor boy, you taste so good.
Kenny continued to kiss him, grappling at the buttons on his suit, luring him in further with his tongue, saying sweet things like, "It was destiny that you came", "I'm alone without you". Wow, that was actually too sweet. Was it really Kenny? "I want your fat ugly dick" No, no, it was Kenny.
"Just stay for the night, Eric. I'll forget my mission if you forget yours." His voice, pure and unadulterated, chilled him.
Just a temporary relief.
He suddenly remembered Mitch Conner had once warned him to tread carefully with Mysterion. Freedom Pals only sought to manipulate him. Until he found the long-sought financial stability—which is to say one million dollars—Cartman could never be free. Kenny's ploy… Mysterion's ploy couldn't stop him. He needed to prove he was stronger.
When the Coon started pushing back, Kenny took it as a challenge and tightened his grip, his kiss fiercening. He moved like a wet worm around him and pushed him up against the wall. His fingers found their way lower, much lower, and began unzipping the Coon's trousers. Cartman's face blazed red.
"No! Not my franchise!"
His yelp stopped Kenny's kisses in their tracks, and, feeling too pathetic to do anything else, he smacked Kenny, sending the boy sidelong. Nothing more was said as Kenny hit the wall with a thud, and Cartman frantically escaped through the closet.