A howl of grief came from his mother's room while Cartman sat and pondered silently in his study, his thumbs tapped mindlessly together against his lips and his eyes, the color of the sky when a storm is beginning to brew, glared fiercely towards his loafers. Thief was in the house today, sniffing along the wooden planks of the floor for anything of particular interest with little claws scraping against them obnoxiously. It was better than Lianne Cartman wasting valuable energy sobbing over a useless loss, whether it was her husband or her son was beyond him at the moment.
Mysterion had been on the television last night, Cartman had viewed smudgy pictures of an unable figure climbing swiftly over a fence with a conspicuous look over his shoulder. His had deepened as he observed the story, South Park was especially obsessed with the little girl he had rescued from her step father and drunken friends and the brunette could not have possibly been more disgusted with the turnout. The Coon was the first one to enter the streets as a much needed icon, a symbolic messenger reigning hope and strength to the weak in need of rescuing. But everyone was much more fascinated with this single character who had succeeded only once in his new lifestyle.
It was the Jew rat, Cartman had never been more certain of anything in his entire life. That Kyle bastard had put on a costume, called himself something as unimaginable as Mysterion, then when about earning publicity and humiliating Cartman at his own game. It was outrageous to so much as consider, it made Cartman's fist clench and his teeth grind at the idea of his smug grin occupying his stupid face. Who did he think himself to be? How dare he turn his nose up like the idea of being a true vigilante was the dream of a child, then go out and declare fame from something that was his true calling in the first place. He would be damned.
"Hello?" The familiar voice of an individual he had not invited into his home echoed throughout the wide hallways near Cartman's study, his posture straightened with concern and he sent a wild look towards the wide double doors he stayed behind. "Hello?! Cartman, you in here?"
Thief tilted his head and froze up, one inky paw frozen midstep. Cartman swiftly stood from his chair and scrambled to go answer the call of the other boy, throwing open the heavy masses and rushing to follow to sound of an intrusive tone. It didn't take long for him to finally stumble upon Stan, a look of dazed confusion in his dark blue eyes as he admired the structure of Cartman's much too large mansion. "Dude," he grinned when the stocky teen halted right in front of him. "This place is totally sweet. You should throw parties here, do you know how fucking popular you'd be if you did? Everyone would wanna be on your good list."
Cartman rolled his eyes at the thought, just what he needed. It wasn't as though they still had maids around to tidy up the house every now and then, it would be left up to him to pick up the inevitable destruction of his popular if he let the sex crazed screeching miscreants of high school celebrate positively nothing but their youth in his private quarters. Not only that, but someone might find his drunken slob of a mother and her secrecy would be blown. Another reason why he needed to be rid of Stan before he ventured too far.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He hissed through his wall of teeth. "How did you even get in here?! It shouldn't have been that easy to-" Something was horribly wrong, Cartman's chest ached with the rapid thump of his heart and he pressed the edge of his palm to his chest while trying to recover his breath. Something about the fact of Stan slipping undetected into his mansion petrified, it brought back memories of a little gray eyed boy being rushed by a trembling mother to hide away under the floor while his father glared down the barrel of a bloodthirsty pistol. It was haunting, Stan's ability to break in meant anyone could break in if they wanted to. Security had failed him there, what if Stan hadn't been an ally? What if Stan had been a crazed grieving man demanding justice towards the wrong set of people, searching once more for Eric Cartman Senior due to a crime he had not committed?
"Woah Cartman," Stan reached out to grip the rotund boy's thick arm and it occurred to Eric in that instant that he very much needed to be steadied. Cartman had never identified the prominent trauma of his past simply because he never suffered. It appeared there was something in which to trigger it's existence, perhaps ignoring the agony of one's past truly was effective on their future. "Dude, you're all pale and shit! What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Cartman snapped the word and snatched himself free of Stan's concerning hold. "I'm just, it's just, it isn't anything. Heat flash." He swallowed it, buried it under thick skin and harbored its profile like a filthy fugitive. When it was nestled safely into darkness, he narrowed his eyes towards a flabbergasted Stan watching him intently. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He demanded, his threatening calm a true contrast to the note of panic he carried with him only seconds ago. "Nobody is allowed inside my house. You have to leave and you need to do it now."
"Why can't I-" Stan cut himself off when Lianne began to sob, begging for one single name repeatedly like a depressing cycle throughout the empty home; Eric, Eric, Eric... Cartman lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale tiredly. Stress had taken a dreadful toll on the poor boy, weakened by thoughts of Mysterion and what to do with a godforsaken mother too helpless to so much as leave her bedroom. Stan flicked his eyes in the direction of the weeping, his brows raised in contemplation and he parted his lips to ask the obvious. Cartman's black look which dared him to be curious caused him to clamp up at once. Instead, he took note of Thief scampering down the hallway and into the room, pausing beside Cartman to gaze up in wonderment towards the strange newcomer. "Aww!" He crooned, kneeling down towards the mammal as it examined Stan from head to toe. "You have a little raccoon! It's like your superhero costume." He reached out with extended fingers as though meaning to attempt affection towards the creature, Thief reacted instantly.
He bared his sharp, yellow stained teeth and hissed like a demon in warning to keep away. Stan jumped backwards in surprise and tucked his hand cautiously against his chest, eyes rounded in terror. Appearing satisfied, Thief briefly pressed a loving nose into Cartman's leg, then trailed off for further exploration. "Oh yea," chuckled the brunette as he watched the rodent disappear around a corner. "He's a sweetheart, but only to me. Let's go take a walk Stan." His pace was highly unrelaxed as he led the way from the mansion and out towards the exit space. He pushed open one of the oversized doors while Stan kept easy stride beside him, neither of them spoke until they were past the eerily haunting gates of his property. "What brought you here?" He asked the ravenette, his eyes locked upon the progress of a pigeon taking flight.
"It's about Mysterion," Stan offered with far too much excitement. "Did you see the news last night? They were talking about him."
"Yes I saw the news," Cartman couldn't keep the bite of anger from his tone at the thought of their faceless rival. "It wasn't very helpful though, I'm not sure why you're bringing it up."
"It was helpful!" Stan insisted, they made a turn down the sidewalk and paused their words when a woman passed by. They waited until they were certain she wasn't within earshot, then Stan went on with his explanation. "The little girl that he rescued, the only thing about him she could see were his eyes. Light blue. If you're right Cartman, and Mysterion is someone we know, it has to be Kenny. He's got light blue eyes too, and we discussed becoming a superhero with him! It all makes sense, I think we should go ask him about it and tell him to knock it off unless he wants to be revealed." Cartman paused their footwork and let his eyes fall shut, highly disappointed by the fact that Kyle wasn't the one stirring up conflict (he would've loved a reason to bash his skull in). Still, at least they had evidence over who this masked fiend was embarrassing everything he had worked for.
"No," he said decidedly, turning to face Stan's wide eyed expression of surprise. "He'll be out tonight, no doubt. That's when we'll strike. I think it's time Mysterion properly meets the two real heroes of South Park."
§
"I'm not wearing this."
"Stop being a bitch Kyle, you look fine." Kenny was lounging on the auburn's bed with his legs stretched luxuriously out before him, out of costume for the day. He had went out to buy outfit material with him for the day after receiving a message from Kyle over Facebook that he was curious over where this could potentially go. Kyle reviewed his appearance in the mirror with disdain, his kite blossomed out from his back in a disarray of obnoxious coloring, free and natural. It felt better to have it unfolded like he usually did with it, but it was still a considerable oddity to see it like this. He looked away, this costume concealed his identity well enough if not perfectly, but Kyle could still recognize himself. It was him, the freakish boy who had a kite growing out from the center of his back and eyes which glowed an unnaturally green shine due to their possession of laser activity.
"I can't do this," he turned from the frowning image and pulled back the material of his costume over his head, his afro of fiery curls toppled free and drizzled over his forehead in a natural rain of mess he never cared for. He moved across the floor and settled himself on the edge of his bed, avoiding the way Kenny watched him with observant blue eyes and a blonde brow raised in consideration. "It's too hard to so much as look at myself dressed like this. I can barely do it when I look normal, but this? Letting everyone see the weirdo I am? You and Stan, neither of you get it. You have no trouble at all hiding what you are, you don't have to worry about someone looking at you wrong and realizing there's something up. I can't take off my jacket in public, I can't go swimming, I can't even hug the members of my family because otherwise they'd know. They'd know what's wrong with me, they would never look at me the same. Do you get what I'm saying Kenny?" He turned to face the eerily silent blonde, watchful and attentive of the distress his slowly developing friend seemed to be in.
Kenny leaned forward, bending one knee up and resting his elbow upon it while his tongue ran over the inside of his bottom lip, contemplating. Finally, he asked a question, one which made Kyle go rigid with wide eyed disbelief as his lungs deflated with oxygen. "Can you fly dude?"
Kyle set his jaw and assaulted him with a gaze fierce enough to smite down an angel, the muscles in his shoulders tensed and the dance of outrage in his glittering eyes caused Kenny's mouth to curve up into the make of a crooked grin. "What the fuck are you talking about?!" he burst out suddenly, spitting the words like venom and wishing them to do just as much damage. "No I cannot fly! Just because there's a kite growing out of my back doesn't mean there's a chance that I can take off into the sky like some sort of faggy-ass Superman! What the mother of fuck, what even gave you that sort of assumption? Are you retarded, or just that big of an asshole?" He wasn't satisfied with his outburst, turning back to face his room he stood on both his feet and went towards the corner he had carelessly flung his street clothes into. Kenny seemed unfazed by his note of outrage, notably unapologetic as well. He slid himself from off the mattress as well, mindlessly disheveling the smooth material of meticulously made bed-sheets as he went and standing as well. He lifted both arms above his head and stretched until a loud pop sounded from his back, then lazily wrung out his arms.
"Have you ever tried?" he pressed, causing Kyle to whirl around with a plain white tee threaded through his fingers.
"Kenny, I swear to God-"
"I'm just saying dude, it might be something you can try. I mean, lasers come out of your eyes for no reason, right? Flying seems like it would be a sensible part of this whole business." He crossed his arms and shrugged thoughtfully, Kyle boiled on the spot. He flicked his curious green eyes towards the mirror on the back of his door again and regarded himself through the curtain of auburn hair nearly covering his vision. Honestly, he didn't know why his mother wouldn't let him cut it off, at least to a tolerable circumstance. But then, he might miss sitting beside her when she would return from a busy night at work, half asleep as she pried away his precious ushanka and played blearily with the springy strands of obnoxious hair. You can't get rid of this, she would coo to him. It's such wonderful hair, I love it so much. Why don't you stop hiding it under that god-awful hat and let people see how fantastic my little boobala's hair is? Such wonderful hair...
He scowled before turning his attention back towards Kenny, who was examining a picture on his desk of himself and Ike forcibly hugging one another and offering cheesy, terribly strained smiles towards the camera. "Well anyway," said the blonde, turning to address Kyle once more. "Fly or not, you should go out with me tonight. Just for tonight and if you don't like it, I'll never bother you to come and join again. I promise." He lifted the flat of his palm up towards Kyle and nodded as though personal with his sense of honor. Kyle rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, disbelieving in it's entirety that Kenny would let bygones be bygones if he agreed to go out, crime fight, then say he would never do it again. Something told him that most of the things spouted from this boy's mouth would be undeniable horse-shit and that he would need to be especially considerate when speaking with him.
"I..." He sent another glance towards his mirror in uncertainty, but Kenny swiftly stepped in the direction his line of vision was leading to block the view of himself. Kyle groaned and pushed back his atrociously thick bangs, shutting his eyes with a breath as he thinks on his options. Going out for the night dressed like an idiot, letting everyone see the kite sprouting from his back while hooking a finger at bad guys and attempting to sound horrifying while threatening their lives, didn't sound appealing in the slightest. But that was because he was harshly narrowing his eyes at the idea in a way that insisted upon his doubt. He couldn't seek out the magic like Kenny did, understand what drew Cartman into the streets like a moth dazzled by the golden glow of a flickering flame. And maybe, just maybe, there was a pathetic spark of need inside that desperately wanted to know the urges. The little boy within, the one who's childhood was wrongfully robbed of him because of a curiosity he couldn't take back, begged to know a world adventurous and promising. I owe it to myself.
"One night," he relented at last. "Asshole."
§
This was an idiotic decision left on his behalf, Kyle thought. He was leaning boredly against a lamppost, fully fledged in costume, with arms crossed over his chest and eyes glaring down towards the concrete sidewalk in dismay. Despite the harsh exterior of confidence he was presenting to the world, inside was an entirely different story. His heart beat frantic and harsh in his chest, as though demanding escape before things were too out of hand. It was a grand contrast to the way Mysterion appeared, completely within the comfort of his element as he blended into the stretch of shadows and scanned in full silence for any sign of lurking predators. A naturally born hero in the depths of much needed concentration and eyes like two clear pools of water consuming his surroundings, missing absolutely nothing.
Kyle looked back at him, the creases of stress in his face relaxed slightly at Kenny's lack of worry. Of course, it wasn't as though the dark hero had much to concern over (what with his immunity to death and all) but it felt better to agree with an expert that there was nothing to fear. "So," Kyle broke the anxious silence with his easy tone and was presented with the cut of Mysterion's eyes in his direction. "What are we supposed to do here? Just, what, wait around for danger to jump in front of us and say 'Hey, I'm evil, now come and get me before I do something illegal.'"
"Be silent Human Kite," came his sharp response, Kyle was struck dumb by the drastic change in his personality compared to the perverse carefree adolescent he had spent time with earlier that day. "Danger is not always so obvious, it takes time and calculation in order to truly find it. To find someplace in need of our assistance, you first must learn to listen." He bowed his head and shut his eyes, the hood of his cloak shadowed his face in a way that made him seem older and much wiser beyond his years. It was strange and foreign to see him so dedicated, was this the same boy who had made him uncomfortable through conversation about the apparent wonder that was a girl's nether regions?
His eyes suddenly snapped open, his shoulders tensed and he snapped impatient fingers towards where Kyle was still leaning against a lamppost. "Up," he demanded and Kyle's eyes burned with outrage, pushing himself to a standing position and preparing to tear into Kenny for thinking himself so high and mighty that he had the right to order him around. However, he fell silent when a figure leapt down from the rooftop on the building before them and landed heavily upon the top of a dumpster, stormy irises cast their glare upon the duo of boys as though bringing promises of future torment.
From the alleyway beside him stepped yet another mysterious figure; a boy with sweeping ebony hair and goggles across his dark blue eyes while sporting the apparal of a man about to go to work on a building project. From his belt, he produced a handful of nails and tossed them into the air, the sharp little pieces of silver descended towards the floor and suddenly halted in midair, the boy turned his finger and the nails aimed their dangerous points towards Mysterion and The Human Kite. With an almost lazy wave of his arm, the nails all charged forth and pierced through the material of Kyle's costume. The strength of them should have been scientifically impossible, yet they took him backwards off his heels and pinned him into the brick wall behind him.
Kyle tried to pry his arms free, but they had him pressed to the wall with irresistible brutality, something he couldn't fight back no matter struggle he put up. Kenny's eyes snapped towards their attackers, his stance cautious and prepared for anymore amazing tricks they might've had slithered up their sleeves. The first one stepped out of the shadows and into the intense hum of a tired light, Kyle instantly paused his work to free himself when he found instant recognition in the wide girth of this boy along with an attire which paid tribute to a raccoon.
"Cartman?!" He spit, the whites of his eyes were lined with jagged crimson strips from the intensity of his burn of outrage. In conclusion to realizing who the lead captor had been, he locked eyes with the second boy with the mystic ability to give nails super strength. "Stan," he deadpanned with a narrow of disbelieving vision. The ravenette stiffened immediately, obviously not intending to have been recognized so easily, but he was a tough one to forget. Kyle remembered those words as clear as a feverish daylight: I have the power to command any tool possible.
"That's Toolshed," came Stan's sharp response, though his cheeks were stained with the dark coloring of clear humiliation. Perhaps he was truly hoping to do this incognito, tough luck Kyle decided. "And we've come to tell you to knock this shit off. You can't just steal all the glamour like this, we started it."
"Wait a minute," Kyle piped up once more and flicked his eyes between Mysterion and The Coon, both of which were silently glaring one another down. "That's what this is about? Some petty jealousy that people noticed Mysterion before they noticed you?! Give me a fucking break, he's a one hit wonder you jackasses! He saved a little girl from a dick, big whoop. People will get over that shit once another popstar nearly trips over a crack in the sidewalk."
"And who are you supposed to be?" Cartman's eyes broke away from Kenny's to regard Kyle, clearly irritated by the scoff in his undertone. "I'm guessing from your choice of costume and that mean look on your face. But is it Kike Man perhaps?"
"What did you just call me-"
"Enough Coon," Mysterion finally spoke up for the first time with a chin lifted in clear defiance, unappreciatve of Cartman's lack of filter when it came to his prodding wit. "You obviously misunderstand what's going on here, and I'm going to set it straight before we go anywhere we really don't want to." He stepped forward, peering towards the fellow hero from beneath his dark hood while Kyle worked to calm his frustrations. It had always been there plan to approach Cartman and wonder if he still needed an extra hand in combat, then things would smooth out and this could all be dropped.
"I'm the real hero around here," Kenny said, shocking the redhead to his very core. "These streets belong to me, fatass. Now get off of them."
Cartman's dark eyes flashed with outrage and he struck out instantly, a crack straight into his nose with his doubled fist in the beginning of a battle. Kyle grunted in annoyance and pulled against the nails once more, the coil of veins in his arms strained against his skin while his muscles bunched to show his exhausting effort. Eventually, the nails each tore away from their restraints and flew forward like rapid bullets through the darkness. Kyle fell upon one knee after suddenly being granted his freedom, but he lifted his gaze up in time to see Toolshed moving to assist The Coon in his match.
He didn't think, he just acted. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to willfully summon something he hadn't used in such a long time. When his lids pried apart, a vibrant line of crimson shot out from both irises in a blaze Kyle couldn't control properly. It charred the ground and continued up towards Stan's feet, the boy scrambled backwards to avoiding being especially scorched by his abrupt show of power. Kyle shut his eyes a second time and groaned at the blistering sizzle lingering behind them, harsh and echoing. He forced himself to look towards Stan, the unnatural vibrance to the color of his irises had darkened drastically to a forest type of green. They appeared much more prominent in size now, dilated and surprised.
He made himself stand on both feet, glaring down his prominent opponent with powers hurt as danger ridden as his own. Before either of them could make another move, however, the wail of a police siren had them all frozen on the spot. Mysterion and The Coon had each other in a tight grip, squeezing with a need to make bones crack, but they both went rigid at the familiar screech of the law and they turned attention towards the street. Headlights were fast approaching, the heroes were all in agreement to move from the oncoming danger to the safety of the sidewalk just as a beaten up car went zooming past with a whoosh of air. Not too far along followed two police cars and a huge van labeled Channel 5 News in vigorous pursuit. The quartet exchanged quick glances with one another, then wordlessly dispersed down their own pathways once reaching similar conclusions.
None of them were as fast on foot as were the cars on wheels, but shortcuts could be a bad guy's undoing. Mysterion climbed up a latter and pulled himself up over the lip of tall building, crouching there like a gargoyle statue and observing the car chase not too far ahead of himself. It didn't take much calculation to see precisely which paths and twists he would endure if the wish to catch them off guard was still evident. He wasted not another second, taking off at full speed the other way and bounding over rooftops without fear of death or injury.
Meanwhile, Kyle had proven his intelligence without needing to scout out a map just for double checking. He knew which route the villains would take if it equalled escape and Kyle knew just how to reach them first. Of course, his burn of determination would certainly be devastated the moment he reached them. What more could he do? Can you fly? Kenny's tone mocked him through his skull and Kyle pressed the edge of his palm into his temple, sustaining the ache. If there was ever a time for him to soar, now would certainly be the time. Unfortunately, he wasn't about to test the waters and possibly break his leg in the process of trying to be Peter Pan. He needed to focus.
Simultaneously, Mysterion had finally reached his position. It's going to hurt so fucking much, he forewarned himself, watching and waiting. It didn't take much time, the cars came swerving around a corner and the distant pop of guns rung out into the atmosphere. Mysterion braced himself, gritting his teeth and counting down from the number three. Then, with an exhale, he spread out his illusive cape and made a dive towards the earth. His body landed upon the roof of the oncoming automobile and caused it's tires to cry out in horrendous agony while the vehicle was forced to spin out of control.
Mysterion leapt sideways from the dented metal just as the car flipped, landing against his shoulder with a grunt and rolling until he landed in a crouch. The car was upside down now, sliding against the road as sparks sprung up and danced like fireworks, all the more destructive and dangerous. It soon came to a stop, a trio of thugs came crawling from the windows with profiles bloodied and bruised, lips spluttering vulgar words to describe their outrage. One of impressive height and a head without hair stumbled to a standing position first, he ripped a pistol from his belt and clicked off the safety, pointing the barrel towards Kenny without any reluctance.
"Idiot boy dressed like pansy," he spit in an accent thick and Russian. "You die now."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Mysterion muttered under his breath, hoping the man would aim for his skull and put him out quickly. Bullets tended to hurt, believe it or not.
Kyle came slithering from the dark crevice of an ally in time to see the men all rejoining their places on their feet. A skinny, rail thin guy noticed him at once and instantly pointed a shivering gun in his direction, eyes wild with expressive shock and fright. Kyle lifted his hands in surrender at once, clearly this guy was wavering in stability and the last thing the redhead wanted to do was piss him off too much.
"Не двигайся, глупый малыш!" The man barked in a dialect beyond Kyle's reasonable understanding. "Не думай, что я не буду стрелять!"
"In English, dumb-fuck." Kyle responded, keeping his gaze locked upon the quivering gun daring him to so much as breathe. His eyes were currently useless, not that he felt so quick to jump up and use them. For now, he was halted at gunpoint, the rage of adrenaline coursing through his veins was utterly dizzying.
A silhouette moved on the building behind him, two eyes became wide and dismayed at their serious predicament and caused a voice to shout in fear. "Kiteman!" Stan retrieved from his belt a heavy wrench and gave it a blind throw, silent command forced it's weight to spin through the air and take out the trembling kneecaps owned by the nervous thug. He went out like a light, crying in surprised pain as he collapsed and dropped his weapons.
Kyle shot a look over his shoulder towards where Toolshed was knelt, saluting him with a grin and knowable wink. "It's The Human Kite," Kyle barked up at him, enunciating his superhero name before, with obvious reluctance, muttering a small thank you and turning back to the action. A second gunman was rubbing his head from possible concussion, then his eyes met Kyle's. Kyle rushed forth and procured from the ground the fallen firearm while the second man struggled to pull his own from the waistband of his pants. Kneeling, Kyle pulled the trigger and was stunned by the strength of it's kick, the bullet seared the air and struck home right into the thug's shoulder. He yelped at the burn and fell backwards in shock. A grin smoothed itself across the auburn's mouth and he examined the pristine metal of the gun he clutched, smoking from being fired off. "Cool!" He exclaimed wholeheartedly, no wonder these things were so often used.
Lastly, Cartman came darting from places unknown, swiping the gun from Kyle's hand before he could even blink and slid forward until he reached the tall man about to blow Kenny's head off. Cartman kicked out his legs from under him and pointed the gun straight towards the center of his forehead, a smirk crossed naturally over the adolescent's assets. "Попробуй что-нибудь, дай мне самую маленькую причину, чтобы покончить с тобой." He raised a brow daringly and the man chose wisely to hold perfectly still.
The police cars swerved to a halt before the crime scene with lights flashing crimson and azure, the doors flung open and cops shielded themselves behind them, aiming guns and demanding everyone to freeze. The news van skidded up behind the action and a crew rushed to greet it head on, camera rolling. A woman with fluffed pale hair came as close as the law would allow her, cameraman right on her heels, and thruster her microphone out in thirsted definition to know the plot of this positively overwhelming story. "The public needs to know who you heroes are!" She called to them. "Tell us your names!"
The boys all looked towards one another in wide eyed unison, Stan came climbing from the side of the building he was perched upon to stand beside Kyle. "I'm Toolshed!" He brushed aside his bangs and offered the newscast a boyishly bashful grin. It was a wonder, the lack of fear he pertained in letting people see him so clearly, Kyle stared in awe at his relaxation. Moments of calculation brought him to his answer, a wonderful sense of realization which caused his nerves to ease especially. They weren't seeing him clearly, Stan was in a disguise unrecognizable to all and nobody could berate him for being less than human.
Kyle straightened, leaving the gun to lie against the road and offering a smile of his own towards the camera. "I'm The Human Kite," he revealed and flicked his gaze towards the last two remaining in secret.
"Mysterion," Kenny dipped his head, voice rough as two stones scraping together and a frown intensified the darkness to his character.
Cartman looked between them, his face was completely free of the typical vain and malice he occupied himself with. There lied something else, something childlike and innocent for the matter, it made those eyes seem a little less dark. It was hope. He smiled, crooked and true, and sent a quick glance towards the buff man he was still holding at gunpoint. "I'm The Coon," he answered the single question with more confidence than even his thriving arrogance. "And we are Coon And Friends."
A/N: Just so everyone knows, Kyle's hair in this story looks the way it did during Elementary School Musical. I loved it so freaking much in that episode, why doesn't it always look that way? I know that typically in the SP fanfictions, Kyle's afro is much more managed, but no I can't stand the idea of him cutting off all that amazing hair (you could just imagine my pain during season seventeen when he decided he was a monk and shaved it away). Thank you all for reading, I hope you're enjoying the story!