[Hey, Wendy. What's up?]

[Hi, Clyde. Are you feeling better?]

[Hell, I am. You're with Bebe right now, right? You think you can-?]

Oh, Clyde...

[Sorry, Clyde, she's telling me about her weekend in a music festival with some Henry guy]

"So you think I'm doing right?" Bebe asked Wendy, leaning forward. She probably interpreted Wendy's smile as a favorable sign.

"Go for it, girl" was Wendy's response.

Bebe grinned. Wendy couldn't smiling too, seeing how practical her new abilities were. It was easier to handle in and off-line conversations at the same time this way.

"And what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, I've heard you're going out with some blond stud. Who is he? Do I know him?"

"I think you do. Remember Gregory of Yardale?"

"Wait, the one who organized that Resistance stuff during the war against Canada? That Gregory?"

"Yep, that Gregory."

"Well, this is a surprise. I hadn't seen that guy in a while!"

"Me too. We met by coincidence and started to talk. We've been talking about the past, the present..."

"Do you have a photo of him? Theresa told me about him, but we have different concepts about handsome guys."

Wendy's phone was already looking for his pictures before she even took it out from her pocket. She showed them to Bebe and Wendy could swear that she looked as if she was going to start howling, like that wolf from old cartoons.

"He's hot!" she exclaimed, her lips forming a wide O.

"And he's studying the same career as I do in a private university. It seems he's pretty rich, because I wouldn't be able to buy the clothes and watches he wears after saving a five lives' salary."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

"Oh, please, Bebe, we are old friends who just got back in touch." Wendy stated, placing her phone back to its place.

"Sure, sure, that's why you look like a dumbass every time you talk about him. He's got money, he's got ideals, brains and after all these years he wants to get in touch with you. Say it, Wendy: you like him."

"...Well...I have to admit that...He's a dream come true."

"Girl, even I have a new dream now. Have you seen those biceps? If you're not going to do anything, I will, I'm warning you."

"Go ahead, I don't care."

"Please, Wendy, look at yourself. You're blushing. Admit it. You like him. If I touched him, you'd tear me apart or wish I was ran over by a truck. Don't lie to me."

Wendy sighed.

"If I tell you that I like him, will you shut up?"

"Yup."

"Then, okay. I like him."

"That's better."

"But telling him—that's a different story."

"Is it because of Stan? You still wanna go back with him?"

"No. Stan can go die in a hole."

"Just asking. If you're not hoping to go back with him and you like this guy very much, what's the problem? Doesn't he like you back?"

"Well...We've been talking about the old, good times we had, still have meaningful and interesting conversations...He told me he liked me a lot and was jealous that I chose Stan in the end. And now he's been there to listen to me and has been taking me to places. In spite of everything, we still have a lot in common. It is unbelievable."

"Uhm...I hope you don't take this bad, but...You're a moron. He obviously likes you a lot. Like, it's even shameless how he's hitting on you."

"Do you think so? He may just be an old friend who-"

"Bullshit! Wendy. I'm warning you. If you don't take this chance, I will never speak to you again."

Wendy sighed with a little smile.

"Well...I deserve to be happy, don't I?"

"Sure you do." Bebe nodded, grabbing her hand to caress it.

Unnoticed by them, Tweek passed by, carrying a cloth to clean the tables with. He immediately placed it on the counter and grabbed his phone.

Maybe he was poking his nose where it wasn't welcome, but Stan had to know this.

Stan didn't say goodbye or thanks to Tweek before cutting the call. Why would he say thank you anyway? For leaving him like that?

He knew this would happen. It was just a matter of time. First Scott, now that guy.

But why that guy? Gregory? Fucking Gregory? He was missing all those years and now came back to get Wendy? He didn't understand. Was he waiting for something like this to happen?

He didn't want to think about it—oh, but he would. He would think about what Tweek had told him all day, all night, all that week.

He deserved that. Coward. Stupid coward.

It wasn't the White House, but it was a nice job. He got to see free movies and get ideas to start projects of his own. He was alone, so no one bothered him. Not that he was well-paid, but it was enough. Up there, Dougie could also see some interesting stuff. Not that night though: the movie was a flop and it was the last pass, so he was projecting for just one guy, and it looked to him that he came to masturbate with Jennifer Lawrence. He didn't say anything, because it was the usher's problem. And it was fun to see people making out, throwing popcorn to the screen, yelling at the characters as if they were going to hear them or, like that guy, touching themselves. It made the job entertaining.

Dougie turned around all of a sudden.

He was not alone in his room. There was someone behind him, with their back leaning on the wall, their arms crossed.

He had seen that person in the newspapers and the news. Mysterion.

"Even vigilantes like to go to the movies from time to time, huh?" It was almost incredible to him how little he cared about his presence.

Mysterion didn't reply immediately. He didn't even move.

"Have you seen Butters lately?"

"Butters? No. If I had, I would have called the news. Everyone's looking for him. They'd pay me well for the story."

"Has he tried to contact you?"

"What makes you think he would?"

"You and him have the same twisted mind."

"Are you talking about those times when we played we were agents of chaos?" Dougie chuckled. "We were little kids. The big boys didn't want to play with us, so we were angry, and we thought the best way to let all that anger out was to be supervillains."

His glasses were fogging up, so he removed them and cleaned them with his shirt.

"We were kids." he insisted.

Mysterion did not reply.

"Are you going to arrest me for being a bad boy?"

"No." Mysterion finally moved towards him. Man, that man had defined muscles. He must have punched lots of people. "But something tells me you know where he is hiding."

"Why should I know?"

"You and him have been in touch these last years."

"Yeah. As I said, our friends didn't always mind if we were sad, happy, or even dead sometimes, so we had each other to vent. Just a little Skype chat now and then. Not that we were besties. I wasn't even able to do anything about all the shit Butters kept inside."

"Did you know what was going to happen?"

"Do you mean his parents' murder? No. I never thought the would actually do it. But I can't say I'm surprised either. They were assholes. My mother taught me not to talk shit about people who have died, but it's the plain truth: they were assholes. Butters was fed up. He needed help and never got it, so he became more and more like a pressure cooker. One more thing and..."

Silence. Dougie decided that he didn't want his long, ginger curly hair tied, so he let it free. It reached his lower back.

"Listen. I want no trouble. I would never hide that psycho. I swear."

"I don't know if I can believe you."

"Trust me, all that chaos crap was cool when I was a child but now I don't think it's sensible to collaborate with a madman. If I see something, I'll tell you. Okay?"

"If you see something, I will know."

With that, Mysterion walked away. He didn't get out from the room in a fancy way, but just opened the door and left. Dougie followed. There was no one in the corridor.

He went back to the room, closing the door. He turned around and watched the projector.

"You fucked up really well."

By some empty cardboard boxes, where the dim light of the lightbulb didn't reach, another person chuckled softly.

"Now Mysterion's behind me." Dougie continued, still checking how the screening was doing, not looking at the other.

"Are you afraid?"

"Nah. Just saying it's more trouble for you."

"On the contrary. This is just...perfect."

Dougie's partner stood up. A long cape swept the floor as he walked.

"I'm in the mood of some fun. Tonight you're going home sooner."

Dougie didn't want to know. Anyway, soon he saw what he meant.

Some cars passed but no one seemed to notice him. That night was so dark anyway, and that area had no functioning streetlights. He was like one more shadow.

He broke the rusty lock of the boX and opened it. He didn't need to remove his gloves but he did it. When he touched the wires, he felt nothing but that sweet tickle—he enjoyed that so much. A smile appeared in his face and widened as he made it happen. The wires started to spark. Soon, a burning smell came to his nose. Any sensible citizen would have ran away from that box before it exploded, but he didn't. He wasn't feeling any pain. This was being so pleasant. The whole post was shaking. Sparks were also covering the long wires which connected to the next post. His smile widened until he showed his teeth. There was a flash, then another. And, then, darkness fell upon South Park.