A/N: Finally the moment we've all been very impatient for. All two of us.
Enjoy~
Kyle had been to his office building a handful of times at night. A couple instances of forgetting an important document, once forgetting his medication bottle, and an embarrassing twice during exhaustion-fueled fits where he was convinced that he'd left an oven on. The man pulled into the parking lot, glancing up at the darkened building and taking a deep breath. He glanced down to the radio, time reading 9:56 P.M. His fingers flexed around the steering wheel, a gulp riding down the length of his throat. The note said to meet in his office... But what was he walking into?
He shut off the car, staring at the dashboard blankly. Maybe he could shoot Stan a text, let him know that he's here at least. That way if he turned up missing, they'd have somewhere to start...
He pouted. Then again, where the fuck else would Stan assume he would be but here or home?
"This is why you don't get dates, Kyle," he grumbled to himself, reaching over to his glove compartment and snapping the door open. The dim light from inside illuminated eerily in the silent night as he shuffled around inside, fingers clutching around a thick plastic casing and pulling out the small item. He turned the blunt handle delicately in his fingers, thumb pressing against a small screw in the side of a glimmer of metal and snapping it up, a small blade catching the moonlight and glinting into his worried eyes. He eyed the bouncing serration, a shaking breath leaving his lungs and wrapping around the weapon. A high school graduation present from Craig, one that he'd given him for college with the oh-so-kind, "You're a small piece of shit and the city will murder you otherwise. Now you have no excuses if you die, it'll be your own damn fault." Kyle shook his head, pressing the release button on the edge of the holder and slowly letting the blade slip back into the slit. Why he held on to a present from an occasional fling, he'd never know. But a part of him wanted to call Craig and thank him profusely for giving him something to possibly utilize.
Kyle twisted his lips in a sick humor. Maybe he'd do that anyway. Craig was always a good way to pass a few hours if he'd withstood the test of time.
He shook himself out of it, snagging his keys and knife as he moved to get out of the car, shoving them into the pocket of his jeans, nearly thrown off by the coarse denim hitting the back of his hand as he kicked his door shut and began walking towards the building. He only had so much he could prepare for this 'meeting' with. He'd only come to the conclusion of not wearing his work clothes so he could move a little easier if need be, and digging his knife out of a box of old college memorabilia.
He grimaced, grasping his ID from his pocket as he approached the building and glancing inside into the complete darkness of the foyer. He looked up in thought, wondering if someone was just fucking around with him, maybe sending him here so they could break into his house. He snorted, rolling his eyes. Only expensive things he owned were his laptop and kitchen appliances, not like he'd be missing too much in the grand scheme of things. He held his ID to the scanner and pushed his way inside, wincing at the sensor lights flickering on.
He bit his lip, knowing well enough that the lights took ten minutes of non-movement to turn back off. The redhead sighed, continuing his way into the building, eyes flickering around at the empty spots and smacking his lips tiredly. He wished he could say that it was creepy walking through the building alone, but being the last person to leave at least four days a week had long since killed that mindset.
Slowly he came up the stairwell, looking up as the lights flickered on, guiding him up the way. He gulped, nerves starting to flare once again. This could be so bad. He could be walking right into a fucking gun, and Butters would find him bled out, missing the back of his head at six in the morning. The obituary would read 'Local man slain. 28 year old Kyle Broflovski was found murdered by gunshot in his office Monday morning by his assistant. Police were going to look into it but decided not to when they realized he didn't have many people who really gave a shit. And his best friend on the force couldn't crawl out from sobbing under his desk so really it'd just be a pain to deal with. More details might follow, we don't know. Only if his mother bitches enough.'
A little pessimistic and beyond ridiculous, perhaps, but that was better for him than thinking of the actual residuum.
He took a deep breath, slowly ascending up each step, fingers gripping the wooden railing beside him anxiously. What was he supposed to do when this person got there? Talk to them through his door? Let them in and take his chances? He grimaced, reaching the landing and watching the lights of the hall springing forth one at a time; a countdown towards his destination.
It was so much less dramatic looking in the mornings.
He meandered his way down, glancing at Butters' shut door and taking a deep breath. He didn't have someone to call for help this time, and the feeling of idiocy grew with each step down the oh-so-familiar corridor. He came up to his office, glancing at his nameplate and starting to reach into his pocket for his key. He paused, hearing the click of the lock and his eyes widening.
They were already here. And already in his locked office. He glanced in through the window, seeing a silhouette by his desk. Jaw trembling and fingers automatically going to rest against his knife, he placed his handle on the door, very genially pushing it open to a tense silence. Hesitation hit him like a freight train, lingering in the doorway.
"I'm not going to hurt you," a gravelly voice assured him.
Kyle's eyes narrowed, catching the very clear add on to this person's voice. It was a tad shaky, forced out in a manner in which the speaker was trying to make it natural, but they weren't quite there. His fingers tightened around his weapon, stepping into the room and automatically hitting his light switch, wincing at the abrupt change before a blur of purple caught his attention.
He blinked, looking at the cloaked figure leaning against his desk, arms crossed in a casual stance. "What the fuck," he said blankly, mind whirring. This had to be some kind of ridiculous hallucination, brought on by a nonstop supply of K-cups and never ending workload. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?!"
A quiet snort echoed in the empty room and a casual shrug made its way under the thick wisteria cloak. "Mysterion," he said simply. "And picked your lock. Not hard."
Kyle straightened up, face twisting in confusion. "Mysterion?" he repeated. "How about a real fucking name and you not playing fucking dress up?"
Mysterion smirked and shook his head. He knew Kyle would not be buying any of this. Too bad for him, he was just going to have to live with making the purchase. "When this outfit is on, I am Mysterion," he drawled, gesturing to himself dramatically, Kyle catching the heavy gloves over his fingers, the stretched rayon clinging around a defined forearm.
He shot his head back up to the hooded face, an angry breath leaving his nose. "Picked my lock, huh?" he repeated, stepping in and closing the door, leaning back against it and glaring steadily at the intruder. "You realize that this is first degree criminal trespassing, right?" he huffed. "Class five felony, Buddy. If I call the cops, you're lookin' at some prison time."
"But you don't want to call the cops yet," he shot back cockily. "Because you want to know just why it is I'm here."
"What I really want to know is why you think you can break into my fucking office and snoop around," he snapped.
Mysterion sighed, waving at him dismissively, "You can stop holding onto your damn knife, Kyle. I won't come near you."
The redhead blushed, teeth gritting. "How do you know that's what I'm doing?"
"Because that's either a knife or a fuckin' dildo you're hanging onto," he cocked his brow. "Do what you want in this room, I won't judge, but you don't seem the type to defile your workspace." Kyle let out a long breath of exasperation, hesitantly taking his hand out of his pocket and crossing his arms, continuing to stare at the stranger. Not like if he had a gun on him a knife would make a difference anyway. He'd have plenty of time if the man started coming towards him to grab it back out and defend himself. He flickered his eyes around, glancing for any possible counterparts hiding away under his table or desk and Mysterion laughed softly. "It's only me, I promise."
He scoffed, "You think you know everything, don't you?"
Mysterion shrugged, "I know more than you seem to think I do."
Green eyes rolled, "No, I don't know shit about you except you have the nerve to break in and go through my things! You think I can fucking trust you?" he hissed. "When you break into the one room with all the financial information for this company? Well, hate to tell you, Buddy, but if you want money, I can't get it without my boss-"
"I don't want money," he cut him off, Kyle faltering a bit and staring at him confusedly. "I needed your human resource information."
Kyle blanched, looking at his cabinet and his eyes widening at the file drawer open in the slightest. He turned back to the man and growled, "That is private fucking information!" he bit. "You want arrested for trespassing and identity theft? Because we're fuckin' waltzing right in that direction!"
Mysterion smirked, "Please. If it was the two of us waltzing, you'd be tripping over your own fucking feet. We all know you have no rhythm."
Kyle paused, noting the familiar phrasing that'd followed him all throughout his years of school and clenching his fists. "Who are you?" he repeated, voice dropping dangerously.
"Mysterion," the man repeated. "And you're the person with the information I need."
Kyle eyed him uncertainly, "So, what, you wanna threaten me for more files?"
"I'm not going to threaten you at all," he assured him, holding up his gloved hands in defense. "But, I do need some files."
"Not happening," he said automatically. "I'm not going to enable you with... whatever the fuck you're doing," he waved towards him aimlessly.
He scoffed, "I'm taking down the crime ring of South Park. That's what I'm doing."
Kyle's face fell wryly. "Seriously? You really think that I wouldn't have heard of you playing 'superhero'?"
"I don't work the outer shell," he elaborated, hands dropping down and tapping his fingers against Kyle's desk. "The cops do that and hand me responsibility of the underbelly so long as they don't know who I am. They let me take the pieces of shit down, they take the credit when I hand them over in secret, and we keep me out of the limelight. Shaky trust on both ends, but we can't exactly work together."
Kyle narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Stan would've mentioned this to him... Right? He folded in his lips and bit down, brain scattering with the lack of a face to judge levels of deceit. Kyle read people through their eyes, and this Mysterion had his so well hidden, he could very easily be walking right into a fucking trap... But damn his fucking curiosity. "If you have to be hidden..." he started slowly, "then why are you telling me?"
"Because you're the one person in this town who not only won't blab, but I think is involved somehow."
He stared at him in shock. "What, you think I'm part of a fucking crime ring?" he asked, offended for some reason he couldn't even begin to comprehend considering who the words were coming from.
Mysterion rolled his eyes, "No, Kyle. But I think CartAd Agencies is," he stressed.
A string of nausea rose through Kyle's system, lashes fluttering as he tried to comprehend the idea that he was being presented with. "Why do you think that?" he asked breathlessly.
"Why aren't you denying it right away?" He questioned back. Kyle's chest began heaving a bit, feeling himself on the brink of panic. He knew why: Because he had been dealing with a foreboding feeling for over a week now. Because pieces just weren't clicking when they should have been. Because he was so lost in the midst of this problem that he was nearly drowning. Mysterion watched him carefully, heart sinking guiltily as he watched the pandemonium racing through Kyle's shaking stance. He had to be careful, though. He couldn't just blurt out what he knew, he'd have to get Kyle there himself first. "Well?" he pressed.
He cursed to himself as Kyle looked at him again with those piercing jade eyes, seeing the defenses flying straight up around him. The classic Broflovski move of becoming a brick wall about their problems, hiding it from the world as best as they could. "No, you called me here," he said firmly. "I get to ask the questions first."
Mysterion nodded, "Fair enough. Go ahead."
He brushed some of his hair back, gulping down his nerves and biting his cheek. "Why do you think I'm involved in this?"
"Because you're the one who runs this company," he reminded him. "Kyle, I promise, I don't think you did anything willingly," he said. "But you're caught in the middle."
"In the middle of what?" he stressed, rubbing his temple tiredly.
He twisted his lips, "Do you know anyone by the name of Trevor Schroeder?"
Kyle narrowed his eyes, looking at him in bewilderment. "What? No," he blinked. He watched as the vigilante's hand slowly slid back to his belt, tensing himself for an attack before the confusion just rose, staring as an ID card was pulled off and held in the air.
"Then why did I find this on a member of the ring I took down?" he demanded, tossing it across the room a few feet in front of the redhead.
The accountant paused, watching him for any movement before taking the few steps forward and bending down, grasping the card and straightening back up, staring at the familiar ID layout and cocking his head. "What the..." he whispered, staring at the anonymous face looking back at him. "I have no idea who this is," he said slowly.
"Is it possible he worked here before you started?" Mysterion continued.
He shook his head, gulping nervously. He turned a bit, holding the card towards the light and tilting it, watching the faint hologram of the company name flashing back iridescently into his eyes. "No. We got a new card system about five months ago... And new cards. These cards," he emphasized, shoulders sinking. "But... I-I have no clue about this guy."
Mysterion twisted his lips, "He said he worked custodial."
Kyle's spine locked up in the slightest, looking at him with a face just screaming how lost he was. "We don't have custodial workers that are part of the company," he said softly. "We hire an outside company... I hire them," he gestured to himself. "They have a special card for their business, and only one. It doesn't have a picture..." he trailed off, looking at his ajar human resource drawer and biting his lip. "Is that why you got into my files?"
The hero nodded, "Yeah. I came last night, just wanting a lead on this guy," he pointed at the card still clutched in his slender fingers. "Obviously, I didn't find anything."
Kyle finally looked at him, taking a deep breath, "Did you find anything at all? Because from your little note, I doubt you'd tell me something is dangerous unless you found out something."
Mysterion sighed, "I looked through a few more files... Starting with yours," he admitted, holding up his hand as Kyle's face furrowed into an automatic fury. "Let me finish. I was looking to see if looking through these was even me being on the right track, that's all... Then I found your written warning," he said quietly.
The redhead's eyes widened, body tensing. He had a feeling he knew exactly where this was going, because he'd been living it for months. "You found out about Larson," he murmured.
"And how everyone who questioned him got canned," he continued before pausing. "Well. All but one."
Kyle rubbed his arm guiltily and nodded, "Yeah. I don't know why," he said softly. "I saw... I saw his cameras were just... old footage," he said bitterly, remembering with vigor just how quickly Todd had called and told Cartman about his 'harassment' over the matter. Just how fast the brunette had grabbed him and dragged him into his office to yell at for over an hour about 'keeping his nose in the books where it belonged'.
"I saw it, too," he said quietly, watching Kyle shift uncomfortably.
Kyle smirked sadly, "Pretty sure that's why everyone hates me here," he remarked with a humorless laugh. "Because there's been twenty-eight 'reports' in the last year against Larson... and I'm the only one who hasn't been let go from it. They think it's favoritism," he shrugged.
"Why do you think the fatass wouldn't fire you?"
He looked at the faceless man and gulped, shrugging with one shoulder. "I always figured it was so he could keep holding how he gave me the job over my head..."
"But you've never been entirely sure," Mysterion finished. Kyle paused before nodding softly and letting out a long breath.
"No... because I did it again a couple months later." Mysterion narrowed his eyes, watching him curiously. "He didn't do another warning... and he didn't just threaten to fire me," he said carefully, kicking his tennis shoe toe against the ground.
"What'd he do?"
Glazed over eyes peered up at him and he bit his lip. "He threatened to knock the charities off our clientele," he admitted, voice barely breeching a whisper. "That was my pet project," he winced. "And it meant a lot to me to come to work and not hate myself, not if things were for a good cause..." he trailed off and sighed. "Bastard came up with the idea, off-handedly pitched it to me, and then had me run the campaign to get it put into motion. People liked me then, wasn't that hard," he smiled sadly before it dropped entirely. "But Cartman told me that if I kept questioning Todd, I'd be fired and the charities would be gone, he'd be looking for better paying clients... Hell, he said if I left voluntarily they'd be gone," he cringed, tossing the ID between his hands, the plastic clacking against his palms. "So it's always just kind of... sat uneasily with me."
Mysterion shook his head, letting out a long breath through his nose. "He's essentially keeping you prisoner."
"I prefer to refer to it as extortion," he rolled his eyes. "But... yeah. I don't know why. I'm a run-of-the-mill accountant, he could find anyone else in this town to do this job... I don't know why he's keeping me wrapped in his bullshit." Mysterion grimaced, trying to keep himself from letting guilt eat at him, but knowing it was fruitless. Kenny was a percentage in Kyle's misery, and fuck did he feel it leaking off of the man as they stood quietly for a moment.
"Have you told anyone else about this?" he questioned gently.
Kyle shook his head, "No. I was told to keep my mouth shut about it... So I did."
"Then why are you telling me?"
The redhead shrugged, "Because if even the cops don't know who you are, I doubt that you would run off and spread this shit around... And maybe you can help me," he said softly.
Mysterion kept the smile off his face, but his insides were dancing. Perfect. "With what?" he questioned.
"Money is disappearing," he muttered, "through the charities."
Had to ask questions, Mysterion reminded himself. Had to keep himself from blurting information that only Kyle would know. "When did you find this out?"
"A few weeks ago," he sighed, walking towards him at the desk and jumping on top of the opposite end, feeling Mysterion's surprise at his willingness to be within such a close proximity. He didn't feel the fear anymore, this was all clicking a little too well to think he was being set up. Kyle still didn't know who the fuck he was talking to, but if he was a lead for the man, maybe it could go the other way as well. "Numbers didn't look right for the Homeless Youth Center, so my friend who runs the place asked me to check it out. Found out that not all the money I sent them had gotten to them. It was weird, but I figured it was a bank fuck-up, even if my banker said otherwise. So... I went to a few charities today, and I'm hitting the rest next week..."
Mysterion frowned, "I told you that could be dangerous, Kyle."
"This is my job," he snapped bitterly. "I'm in charge of all these companies getting their money. If they aren't, then I'm going to prison," he seethed. His anger dropped and he took a shaking breath, running his hand through his hair. "I went to three of them today... and all of them had money discrepancies," he whispered. "Two in the hundreds, one in the thousands..." he bit his lip and drooped defeatedly. "I don't know what's happening," he admitted. "But I can say that to any jury and they won't care."
He clenched his fists around the desk, resisting the now-routine act of holding Kyle around his shoulders. Kyle could crack without someone physically there touching him to remind him that he was stable and in reality, could slip into a lucid state if the misery drug him down too far, but that was way too risky to go about doing. "Who else knows about the money?" he pressed, trying to just keep him talking.
"My friend, his accountant, my boss, and my assistant," he answered softly. "If all of them keep their mouths shut, I should be all right... But if one of the other charities finds out, it's only a phone call away for a full-scale investigation."
Mysterion nodded softly in agreement. "You won't go to prison," he promised. "We'll make sure of it."
Kyle looked up at him and twisted his lips, "Is that your power? You psychic?"
He snorted, "No. Nothing so useful, unfortunately."
He cocked his brow, "What, you're telling me you actually have a superpower?"
The man smirked and chuckled, "That's for me to know."
"Uh huh," he retorted dryly, scratching irritably through his hair. "So, what's your theory?" he asked.
Mysterion sighed, giving him a lax shrug. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "But... I have a feeling that our good friend Todd here is linked to Trevor," he pointed to the ID beside of Kyle, "and he's linked to your missing money."
"And Cartman's at the top," he finished quietly.
The hero nodded solemnly, "Maybe. But until we find a way to keep you out of the suspect list, I wouldn't suggest going to the police. Don't forget, our police force is full of retards, and they'd have you behind bars and being Big Barney's bitch in a millisecond."
He scowled at him before slowly slinking again. "Yeah," he whispered. "Any ideas?"
Mysterion pointed once again to the plastic card. "Maybe our bud Trevor there worked for the company before you got here and somehow managed to eek a new card out," he suggested.
"You want me to search through old files," he stated, getting a confirmatory nod.
"And maybe another background check on Larson," he suggested.
He flickered his eyes to him, "And just what are you going to be doing about this?"
"Working the streets," he answered smoothly. "I mean, if you want to be the one with a gun against your head constantly and lugging three hundred pound assholes around town to the police station, be my guest."
"Oh no, please, you go right ahead and take that privilege," he scoffed.
Mysterion snorted, "My pleasure. Look," he said, getting Kyle's attention locked on him. He dropped back into a serious tone, "I'm only telling you this because you're so wrapped up in it, I don't like the idea of having a civilian involved. But I can't get through the files of CartAd like you can."
Kyle nodded softly, "Yeah, you don't seem much the type for smarts."
"And you don't seem much the type for brawn," he drawled.
He cocked his brow, "You wanna fucking test that theory?"
Mysterion smirked again and shook his head. "Not particularly. But, if you're willing to be the faceless one and work it apart from the inside, maybe we can get somewhere. Because, to be honest you're right, I'm not the best at this complicated bullshit."
Kyle shrugged, "Not exactly my area of expertise either."
"And it won't be," he promised. "I just need you to help me figure out who Schroeder is. That's it. I'll take it from there."
He frowned, hopping up from his desk. "No. If I'm fucking helping you, then you're keeping me in on everything," he demanded. "This is my ass on the line here!"
He returned the expression, "That's not how this works-"
"It is now," he bit. "Either you fucking agree to my terms or you can figure this out on your own while I work my angles and take care of it myself."
"Are you stupid?" he hissed. "This isn't just fraud, Kyle. We're dealing with criminals who were very open in telling me that running drugs is the very least of their crimes!"
"And?" he scoffed.
Mysterion blinked, teeth gritting in frustration, "And you're not exactly trained for if someone comes at you to kill you off for getting in too deep!"
"Then I guess you better keep me in the loop so I can stay on my toes," he replied smartly, crossing his arms and glaring at the taller.
He leaned his head back and groaned in frustration. He should've known. He should've fucking known that he'd be this fucking stubborn. It was fucking Kyle of all people, he knew better than to think he'd be able to cut it off where it needed to be. Mysterion sighed irritably. "Fine," he bit. "I'll keep you in the loop, but that goes both ways, do you understand me? Anything you find out you bring to me."
"And just where do I find you?" he asked cooly. "Got a Mysterion signal?"
"I'll find you," he corrected. "I stay on the streets when I'm working, I can't have you caught in the crossfire."
"Oh. My hero," he said blandly. "How very noble of you, after you broke into my office and files like a thief."
"You aren't gonna let that go, are you?"
He shrugged casually, "You help me fix my problem and it'll never be brought up again," he promised.
"Stubborn asshole," he scoffed, planting a gloved hand against his chest and shoving him down into his chair with a loud 'oof', feeling Kyle glaring at him as he sauntered to the HR file and closed the drawer, re-locking it and tossing him the key. He turned to look at the frustrated redhead and chuckled at his angered expression. "Here's the deal: I'm leaving. You are not to leave until the sensor lights go off again, understand?"
"And if I do?" he glared.
He shrugged, "Then you run the risk of the area not being cleared and being shot down before you even get to your car. This isn't a game, Kyle. We aren't dealing with fucking pot dealers here, all right?"
The redhead paused, setting his lips in a grim line. He had a point. "Fine," he conceded. "I'll wait."
"Good," he praised. "I'll check with you in a couple of days," he promised, walking towards the door and taking another glance at the disheveled man. "Go home, get some sleep. We'll figure this out," he assured him, waiting for Kyle to give him a slight nod before ripping open the door and scurrying down the hall back towards the stairs.
Kyle watched after him blankly, shoulders sinking as the night's events began to settle on him all at once. Without so much as a thought, he robotically placed his key back in its hiding place, fingers fumbling to set himself up a mug of coffee to wait out his time.
He listened to the drink begin slowly draining down into the porcelain, eyes moving and settling on the unfamiliar profile staring back at him. Another gulp found its way down his throat, mind overwhelmed with the possibilities. He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling as the brewer halted and letting his eyes slip shut.
Just what he needed. Another crisis.
A/N: Yaayyy they've finally met now the sexual tension -I mean- crime solving can start!
Thanks for R&Ring!