A/N: More investigating so fun

Enjoy~

Doing this trip during the day when he was merely Kenny was bad enough, but traveling up to CartAd's building under the cloak of the night seemed far too much for the hero to be able to handle. This wasn't the same apprehension he'd felt for so very long on his 'adventures' as he had a tendency to call them. This wasn't a constant string of caution that he'd be coming against a man who'd turn the gun on him and escape him as he lied dead on the ground, having to retrace his steps the next damn night. No, this was hitting much closer to home than mere fatal assault.

He knew how Kyle operated behind the scenes of the hiring process for the company, that he was the one who ran background checks through his human resourcing aspect on potential employees. He'd guiltily admitted to Kenny one day that he kept anyone involved in criminal activity far out of his jurisdiction. Now, maybe there was a possibility that the man he'd found had no such history, that this was his first offense. It was more than plausible, but something in Mysterion's gut was telling him otherwise. Kyle had informed him that the criminal thing was Cartman's insistence, that he wouldn't mind if it'd been at least two years past a conviction on a small crime. His dad was a lawyer, after all. He knew the chances of rehabilitation were there, sometimes that misguided person just needed a step in the right direction to get their lives on track and become a once-again functioning member of society.

But, Mysterion wasn't stupid. Kyle was extremely careful about certain laws being broken in his business. He could only imagine that the redhead wouldn't even consider hiring on someone charged with stealing money, regardless of the limited access. He had every reason to be paranoid, the stash of petty funds and access to bank accounts being in his office and his name. "If someone stole a car or a TV or something or was selling pot, what the fuck ever," he'd told Kenny over a beer months beforehand. "But I'd rather not have to open the safe with a gun to my head, know what I mean?"

Mysterion unfortunately knew exactly what he meant. Playing the game of hero was certainly risky, but he was practiced, had his disarming skills down to an art. Kyle threw a mean left hook but he was nowhere near prepared for someone to press a Glock against his temple. It was an unnecessary risk, and the hero wholeheartedly agreed that he was better off just being silently discriminatory, much as the guilt settled on the accountant's face admitting such a fact.

Better safe than dead, after all.

Mysterion scurried up to the front of the building, avoiding the lights of the parking lot and edging his way to the door, narrowing his eyes in the slightest. Where was the light from inside?

He moved to the front glass doors, ducking down and peering into the building, adjusted eyes seeing nothing from the front security desk. He cocked his head. Where was the guard for that matter? Cartman was adamant on security during the day, why didn't he have anyone in at night when the place was at its most vulnerable?

He grimaced, peeking around a bit more before sliding Trevor's ID off of the belt secured tightly around his slender waist. He held it up to the card reader, watching the light turn to green and hearing the lock click open. He gulped, putting a steady hand on the door and carefully guiding it along, slipping silently inside and letting it close slowly with a planted palm against the glass. A light flickered on above him and he flinched, biting his lip as the florescent giveaway beamed into the foyer and illuminated the security desk even better for him. Sensor lights. Fucking great.

Mysterion shook his head, slinking forward and prying open the second set of doors, slithering through and another row of lights bursting to life. "Fuck," he whispered, sneaking up to the security window and popping up. He glanced through the pane, eyes landing on an array of monitors filled with rooms. Biting his lip, he quickly ran through his options. Cameras could easily be recording, he could get busted no problem. Breaking and entering wasn't exactly on the cops' approval list for him. He paused, straightening up and staring at the displays, eyes narrowing.

They were all well lit. Every single one of them.

The hero glanced down towards the row of cubicles, cocking his brow at the darkened way leading to the stairs and back to the monitor displaying the area, seeing the scope bright as day. He glanced to the screen of the desk itself, noting the very peculiar lack of his own image projected into the monitor. "What the fuck," he muttered, waving his hand around furiously, trying to see if the camera would pick up something. "Hm," he twisted his lips, moving to the security door and shoving it open, walking up to the stack of televisions and observing each one closely. Nothing but empty space, but each area illuminated. He blinked, noticing a window in one set and the very clear indication of sunlight peeking through the pane. He glanced at the time indicator in the corner of one, cocking his head at a date set back nearly a year, the time reading 6:00 a.m.

Fake security. So much for coincidences.

He shook his head, turning and heading out of the security office, ears perked for foreign noises as he made his way down the hall, the sensor lights blaring and guiding his path as he moved. He glanced up the stairs to the upper hallway, taking a deep breath and heading up the way, hiking his cape with his fist to keep it from swishing irritably against the scratchy carpet. His chest was twisting, his heart pounding with nausea and anger. He didn't know how they were involved, and a part of him didn't want to know. This was just hitting far too close to home for any amount of comfort to worm its way into him.

Mysterion reached the top of the flight, hurrying down the way and up to Kyle's office, staring at the door for a few minutes, eyes lingering on his name plate and biting his lip. If anyone had the information he needed, it would be Kyle. He'd be the only one who could have the records of the man he'd taken down.

He knelt down in front of the door, reaching onto the side of his belt and ripping out a small leather pouch, putting it on the ground in front of him. He tore off his gloves and tossed them beside his knee, digging into the satchel and snaring two long metal tools from their hold. He eyed the lock, angling himself to see the beginnings of the tumblers and nodding to himself. Gently he placed his tension torque head into the lock, feeling it sliver and settle into the mechanism. He fixed his left thumb onto the handle, letting it press up in the hold as he twisted his hook pick in his fingers. With a steady hand, he guided the long, bent tool into the furthest crevice of the lock, mentally counting pins as he bumped along each one before reaching the end. He sighed as he reached the sixth and nodded to himself, shifting on his legs and beginning to gently work the pin, waiting for the telltale click he could feel in his tools.

He hated doing this, and if he had to be completely honest, hated how easily it'd came to him when he decided it was necessary to learn should he want to keep his superheroing goals steady. Sometimes you had to get into places and he wasn't exactly one for carrying miniature explosives whipped up by a side-kick, off-screen scientist who devised every crazy contraption he could ever need. No, he was the poor man's superhero, limited to a fifteen dollar locksport set he'd found on ebay.

Mysterion felt the first pin lock up into place, scooching his hook back and continuing to fiddle on the next. He'd found out rather quickly that his hands were more than adept at picking up the slightest of reverberations, a skilled set of nerves ready to aid him. It was more than appreciated, especially considering just how many fights he'd been in in complete darkness. Feeling a weapon held too closely against him, able to feel body parts flinching without any physical jerking; all just a nice collaboration that led him to be damn good at what he was doing.

As he continued working his way down the lock, thumb going red from the slim metal of the torque digging into the pad as he kept it tensed, he let out a long, worried breath. He wasn't sure what he'd find, whether it be nothing but innocent paperwork or the entire layout of a meth den stashed away. He rolled his eyes at himself, knowing his imagination was going way too far on that front. Kyle was the last in the list of people who'd be involved with this syndicate. If not for the fact he was just a decent person, the notion of him having the damn time to be embroiled in this mess was laughable to say the least.

A smirk crossed his lips as the last pin fell level with the others, his torque moving its way up and turning, chambers and tumbler making that glorious sound as he gained his access. He bit his lip, pushing the door open and slowly turning the lock back into place. Yanking his tools out of the lock, he shoved them back in the pouch and refastened it on his beltline, slipping his gloves back on and stepping into the room Hitting the light switch, he watched the furnished prison come alive. He clicked his teeth together, closing the door behind him and hearing the auto-lock snap back into place as he ventured towards a row of filing cabinets. Scanning the different labels all marked with Kyle's straight-laced handwriting, he moved about until landing on one marked 'Human Resources'.

Mysterion went to tear open the cabinet, stopped by another lock and he groaned, rubbing his temple. Protecting identities and doing his job correctly aside, Kyle was making this far too difficult.

He turned, making way to Kyle's desk and opening his top drawer, smirking sadly at the half-eaten packet of crackers tossed in front of an array of sticky notes. He reached into the underside, knowing well enough that Kyle didn't carry any keys on him but the one to his door. His fingers hit a bump atop the drawer ledge and he smirked, curling his index finger and jerking out the small, silver key. "Hope this is it," he murmured, walking back over and placing it at the lock, watching it slide in with a satisfied smile. He slowly let the files be pulled into view, eyes scanning along the legibly marked manilla running down the line. His eyes hit the S's, narrowing them at seeing the folders going straight from Sanders to Selin. No Schroeder.

He bit his lip, looking at Kyle's file near the beginning of the stash and drumming his fingers against the cabinet in thought. It was a total invasion of privacy, but Kyle would understand if it was for the good of the town. Right? Mysterion took a deep breath, letting his grip linger on the file marked 'Broflovski, K'. He'd understand, and it's not like he'd be using any of this against him, he just needed to be certain that he was in the right cabinet.

Mysterion ripped out the folder and laid it on the others still aligned, opening it to a photocopy of Kyle's ID and a slue of background information. He twisted his lips, scanning down over the stated typical data; Kyle's name, birthday, education, employment history... He sighed, flipping the front page over to continue shuffling through papers. Direct deposit information, some medical history, insurance... Nothing but business. And nothing on background. Then again, Kyle had a clean background as far as he knew, so it could just be there was nothing to have on record.

A bright yellow paper caught his attention and he flipped to it, brow raising at a prominent 'Employee Written Warning' typed neatly across the top. He recognized the obvious chicken-scratch writing of Cartman right-off.

'Kyle Broflovski was reported by security officer, Todd Larson, for questioning his job stability and security methods. Mr. Broflovski apparently became enraged at refusal of Mr. Larson to answer his inquiries and became verbally abrasive and Mr. Larson filed a harassment complaint. Mr. Broflovski was sat down by myself to be formally warned not to press further with Mr. Larson. Mr. Broflovski issued an apology to Mr. Larson under my watch and the issue has not resurfaced. Written and verbal warnings all needed, follow up meeting to come in a month's time.

-Eric T. Cartman'

Mysterion blinked slowly, looking at the cabinet in front of him. Kyle realized something was weird with security, too. Something was going on here.

He carefully put all the forms back into place and slid Kyle's file where it belonged once more, eyes going back to scanning before landing on Todd Larson's file. He quickly took it out, flipping it open and reading through, tapping his boot against the carpet. His eyes narrowed at his employment and education histories, nothing on record for both accounts. He knew Cartman. He wouldn't skate by with someone untrained, not for something so precious as protecting his own company.

He moved through the next few pages, blinking at a handful of small blue papers bound together with a paper clip. The top read 'Harassment report'. Mysterion took the clip off, shuffling through them and his eyes widening. Each the same, down to the letter except for one difference on each sheet: The name of the 'offender'. An overwhelming number of employees had approached him with the same concerns that Kyle did, each one being accused of 'verbally assaulting' him.

Mysterion glanced at a name on the top of his pile: 'Janice Dundry'. He hummed to himself, setting Todd's papers down and finding Janice's file, grabbing it and flipping it open, brow raising at the top page reading 'Terminated January 7th'. Mysterion glanced back at the harassment report, finding it dated January 5th, no written warning in sight. A strong suspicion rose within him as he placed her file away, flipping to the next name in Larson's documents. Quickly he tracked down the next accused, finding 'Terminated September 16th', once again dated only a couple days following the report.

"Oh shit," he murmured, continuing to shuffle through the mess, finding nothing but termination papers left and right, each dated within mere days of the filing. Mysterion bit his lip as he worked his way through, catching Kyle's and setting it to the side as he continued wading. A good five minutes later and he was left with a pile of found files of people let go... and Kyle. Mysterion sighed, glancing at the report date on his and cocking his head. It was nearly six months beforehand. Why wasn't he fired?

He bit his lip worriedly, putting all the papers back together and shoving them into place, letting the file drawer slide closed with a definitive clang. He re-locked the door, letting his hands linger on the surface and taking a long breath as he wallowed in his thoughts. This didn't make a lick of sense. Not one goddamn bit of this added up in the slightest.

Whatever he was dealing with now, he knew this much: Cartman and Larson were in on something. Whether it just be old fashioned ass-kissing or something further, he didn't know. And now he knew that he wasn't alone on this; Kyle thought something was off as well.

"Shit," he muttered, shaking his head and backing away from the cabinet, taking the key with him. He turned and headed back to Kyle's desk, slipping the key back into its hiding spot and closing the drawer. He glanced at Kyle's computer, humming in thought and sitting down at the desk. Wriggling his mouse and switching on the monitor, he watched the screen pop back to life with light, looking at his friend's account and clicking on his avatar. He set his lips grimly at the password box. He should have figured. This was why other superheroes found themselves goddamn hackers. He knew Kyle well enough to know that he'd come up with a password that it'd take even himself a few weeks to memorize entirely to keep it secure.

He sighed, turning the display back off and slinking in the chair, looking at the mug he bought the redhead sitting and waiting for him to wander back in in the morning and utilize it. This was bad.

His eye caught a paper lying on top of Kyle's calender, cocking his head as he read over the neatly organized columns in his handwriting. 'Heart Disease Foundation' was written in the first row, followed by an address and name, a time and the next day's date in the bottom line. The hero shifted over, reading down the lines and seeing a large number of charities with a similar format, his heart dropping steadily. They were meeting arrangements.

Tapping his finger on the desk, he let his eyes drift over to the empty chair of Kyle's circular conference table, letting a long breath seep through his nostrils. Kyle wanted to see if other charities were going through the same thing his own was suffering through, that much was perfectly clear. Kyle never half-assed anything, he was going to want to get to the bottom of it all. But, the thought made him uneasy. Something was going on under all this chaos, little parts at a time.

He could practically feel the paper still tucked in his jumpsuit, rule number two screaming through his brain: "Do not involve civilians." Did this count, though? If a civilian was at the forefront of the investigation, if they were unknowingly involved already... He grimaced. This could end badly on Kyle's end, if he found something and got himself in too deep.

"Goddammit, Ky," he muttered, shaking his head.

He didn't have a fucking choice at this point. If Kyle wanted to figure this out, nothing come hell or high water was going to stop him.

Only one possible way to talk him out of it.

He grabbed one of Kyle's notepad papers from the forefront of his desk and a pen, switching to his left hand to make the writing more scrawly. He knew well enough that Kyle could recognize his actual handwriting a mile off, he'd have to take the extra precaution here.

'Investigating this could be dangerous. I need to discuss this with you. Do not tell anyone, meet me here in your office tonight at ten o'clock.' He paused, sighing to himself. Had to let Kyle know this wasn't a damn set-up of some kind. He was going to have to approach this on a first-name basis so he didn't suspect some unknown assailant here to get the money from his office. 'Kyle, you're going to have to trust me on this. It's suspicious, I know, but there's something going on here and I think you know it, too. Be here, stay safe. -M'

He stared at it for a few minutes, nodding silently to himself. He folded the paper, attaching it with a paperclip to the charity list and sliding the both of them together under Kyle's meeting binder.

A deep, shaking breath left his lips and he glanced around the spacious room, gulping quietly. God, he hoped he was wrong.

A/N: So close agh.

Thanks for R&Ring!