That afternoon the Coon & Friends assembled to celebrate their upcoming Netflix series, sitting around their grand table. Scrambles was in a cage that barely fit it. The cat had yet to be delivered to its owners, who were out of town. The Coon had attributed his nighttime disappearance to getting ganked by Chaos minions, that he knew the team could handle the mission on their own. In his case, though, it was in the wake of the franchise's greatest success, and it's not like anyone could say they missed the unpopular manager.

Bored after hearing his leader's unnecessary alibi, Super Craig gestured to Professor Chaos behind bars. "Yeah, great. So are we gonna question the prisoner or what?"

The Coon snapped to attention. "You haven't already interrogated him?"

Human Kite shrugged. "We were so busy with the calls from Netflix, and I had to compile all our character sheets. Plus you were gone."

Poor Butters was clinging to the bars, aghast from missing school. With the team's promise to set him free, he duly described his boss's "true weakness of tolerance" and that "the darkness of our own hearts will be our undoing".

His allies were pleasantly stumped by Butters' description, so the Coon initiated his grand reveal, the one he and Mitch scripted for this very moment: "No, could it be? … There is only one person I know who-"

During his timed pause, the door to the lair opened, and his chance to identify their nemesis was lost. Normally he'd say fuck it and finish his practiced revelation, but no, the intruder just had to be Mysterion. For all his thoughts and hopes, he froze up in his seat as his companions jumped from their seats into -battle ready- position.

The daring Freedom Pal hopped down the steps, hands raised up. "Relax. I've come alone. I'm… here to join Coon & Friends." Despite his finality, Mysterion had an air almost as uncertain as the suddenly confused conference before him.

Noting the petrified Coon, Mosquito took some initiative: "Then how did you get the password, spy?"

The "spy" replied, "Everyone knows the password. Freedom Pals just never cared to use it."

"What? Why?" Human Kite turned defensive.

"Nothing against your… setup. But Freedom Pals is self-sufficient, and trespassing isn't their M.O."

"Why join us, then?" asked Craig, betraying his admiration for their competition. "You know, if they're so great."

"They're judgmental assholes," Mysterion huffed. After a moment Craig nodded in approval.

Human Kite cut in. "Fair point. But I still don't get you wanting to join all of a sudden. What is it, our success? That's enough to get you to defect?"

Mosquito placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is Mysterion we're talking about. The most mysterious, most prolific hero in the market. We can't turn that down."

A chord was struck and the Coon snapped, "Most prolific? Yeah right, Coon & Friends has been just fine without him."

Mysterion returned, "You'd be even better with me."

Cartman sniffed impersonally and turned to his companions. "Christ, it's not like he'd be able to prove his loyalty. What's he gonna do, rat out his Pals?" His mistrustful-leader character was preserved, and furrowed his dark brows at the intruder.

"No," Mysterion admitted, not meeting his gaze. "But I can tell you one thing the Freedom Pals were wrong about. They had determined Cartman to be the criminal mastermind we've been tracking down." A spell of nervousness rippled through the room. He continued sharply, "…but everyone here knows that's bullshit. He isn't smart enough to micro-manage three criminal gangs, maintain surveillance on all of South Park, and keep up a successful franchise. Not at once, anyway."

"Right," said the manimal. "There's no way I could be the kingpin. I'm not — well, I'm smart enough but…"

"Of course it cannot be the Coon," agreed Professor Chaos from his cell. "The master is very wealthy, very powerful. The Coon Friends have won but a small victory in this scheme."

"But what's this about 'intolerance'? Cartman, you fit the bill perfectly." Human Kite turned skeptically. He was referring to Chaos' earlier rant about the kingpin.

"I swear the Coon was just about to reveal who it was before Mysterion entered," said Super Craig.

The others recalled this, as well, and Eric was forced to conclude his aborted reveal, with the best lie to his knowledge. "What I was going to say was… that if I were to pick a culprit, it would be Dr. Mephesto."

"Oh, so you don't know?" said Craig, disappointed. "It sounded like you were sure who it was."

"It's a good lead," Mysterion reasoned, his apparent lack of bias startling to the Coon. "Who else would be more demented to tamper with people's body chemistry?"

"Hey, no one asked you," snapped the Coon. "It's not that good of a lead. We don't even know what incentive he would have."

"To test the effectiveness of his products," said Captain Diabetes boldly. "Or to set up an environment of test subjects for future experiments."

And so the conference splintered into vain arguments of why that made sense, since in the end no one could pinpoint a good villain, nor would the Coon disclose the answer —Mitch Conner, goddammit, he was gonna say Mitch Conner! - with Kenny present. The netherborn assimilated into the discussion smoothly, too smoothly if Eric had anything to say about it. And he would have plenty to say, after Kyle had the prudence to redirect the meeting's topic to the Netflix series, and the goddamn conference could end.

Things were still tense during mission assignments. There was plenty to work on, and Mysterion, at long last, was to be given his own mission and would be fully inducted into the franchise.

Said Kyle, "I was originally going to accompany Butthole for the next one, 'cause I can fly around the higher areas. But now that you're here, you're the best option for the assigned area, besides, you know, needing to prove your loyalty."

"OK, what does Butthole need?" Mysterion urged, teeth clenching from the two hour duration of the meeting. He didn't sign up for a movie, even though that may have been what he wanted a week ago.

The Coon called from his desk, "He said he's got a date with the kingpin."

"Uh, not a date." Human Kite was exasperated. "There's no scandal here, Coon. But the actual crimelord himself did call this morning, asking to meet with Butthole at Steed."

This snatched Mysterion's interest. "Really? What did he look like?"

"I don't know, only Butthole spoke to him, and Butthole can't talk soo…."

It was absurd a mute could be able to transmit any of this in the first place, but Mysterion said, "Understood. And why am I the escort for this mission?"

"Oh, they're meeting at Steed, in the historic SoDoSoPa, right above…"

"My house. Got it."

Kyle caught on to the less-than-tacit impatience, so he wrapped up the debriefing. "I'll be working from home tonight. With the new series, the Coon can't be the only one on administration duties. Take care of our Butthole," he added before leaving the Coon and Mysterion to whatever sensational confrontation they liked. Wasn't his problem.

A mistrustful persona like the Coon would never delight for the perceived riffraff that was Mysterion, but in this instance, Eric couldn't say he was angry.

"You know… I'm just confused." He approached Mysterion after the meeting before the netherborn could slip away. "You have literally no reason to join us."

He sighed stiffly. "I already gave it. It's my obligation to South Park to protect her from the crime-syndicates that poison her. Freedom Pals were just phonies."

"No, Mysterion, you're a phony. You were stealing the goods, you're no better than him."

Mysterion's rigidity faltered. "Stealing the goods?"

"The vials of cat piss!" He finally revealed it, his supposed trump card. He couldn't resist. "Don't deny it. Butthole took a photo of you with them attached to your belt."

The masked face contorted in a variety of ways. Shocked, confused, angry. "Is that what you're going to do now?" Hurt. "Blackmail me? I barely just joined your stupid club and you want to drive me away?"

"No, I'm not… I'm not blackmailing you," Cartman half-contradicted himself, and wondered if he was just lying to get Kenny to calm down. The incident was vaguely reminding him of Towelie when he was sober.

"Well, it wasn't for you," Kenny half-sputtered. "It's not my fault if I need the cheese. I've been trying to get past it, but you went ahead and rejected me twice. I don't want to say that you're the bad guy, but to me you've been acting a lot like it." The netherborn began to walk away. "I have a better mission to go on."

"Yes, it's my fault. You're just a victim of me as everyone else."

Mysterion turned his head back, to see if those words were really coming out of Cartman's mouth. Strangely enough, they weren't.

But he knew that hand. "Mitch Conner? Why are you bringing him into this?" Mysterion's voice slowed down to say this, heavy with recognition, but the Coon still didn't respond.

"I was always in this, McCormick. I'm the crime lord of South Park, the Coon & Friends' great nemesis. Soon I will be mayor. You see, I'm the one putting cat urine into all the drugs and alcohol. That's right — cheese. It's why the whole city's gone nuts. But the adults. I put it in your tap water, too. That's why you've been needing it so much. But I know even that's not enough for you, because I'm Eric's left-hand man. You see, I was there when KKK's own King and Princess consummated their love, I was there in your—"

Mysterion punched Cartman so fiercely he crumpled to the floor in an instant — all but his left-hand, which held up like a turret. Or like a periscope, given how it stared.

"Crimelord my ass, how are you to know if my tap water is contaminated with cheese? And if it were, it's because of you? Don't make me laugh."

The Coon remained on the ground, gasping, while his left-hand remained rigid. "That's not me, I swear! I didn't even know you were addicted to the cheese in the first place! I thought you were trying to sell it off for yourself — for Freedom Pals!"

"Of course it's all because of me. It's time I come clean. Eric was holding me back, he didn't want me to tell you."

"No, Mitch! Don't say it!"

Oh my god. Maybe Kenny would have cared about his best friend's next reveal, but Mysterion had had enough.

"I'm not afraid of you, Coon, now that I've seen how petty you are. And to think I was worried." About him getting burned in the explosion, that is — which was his fault, anyway. Fuck Cartman. He was leaving to meet the real crime boss. "Butthole's waiting on me, and you know what?" In plain sight he purloined last night's winnings.

The Coon yelped like it was the most important thing in the world. "Scrambles! No! Don't fucking take Scrambles!" He clamored in his direction.

Said Mitch Conner: "Really? You would do that to someone who loves you?"

Mysterion couldn't believe he was sloshing knee-deep in Cartman's madness again. This was enough suffering. Shaking his head at the stupidity of those words, he climbed the staircase with a large tomcat under his arm and laughed.