A/N: Back to plot yay
Enjoy~
There was something to be said about a quaint mountain town at night. Mysterion was rarely one for taking a little breather, for letting his surroundings settle in around him and letting himself relish in the quiet. But right now, the back part of his mind was forcing him in that direction. There was a lot going on, almost too much for him to wrap his head around. He was more than used to trouble springing up around this small town, but he wasn't used to it being so close to home.
Swinging by Kyle's house to get the address of the charity had proved just as heart-wrenching as it had been earlier that afternoon. The redhead still just seemed so miserable and lost in it all, though he seemed to be in higher spirits than Kenny had left him in after he and Stan had taken him to another bar on the outskirts of town to keep him far and away from Cartman. He'd sent him away from his window with good detail about the layout of the office, going so far as to offer to go with him before Mysterion shut that down in an instant. He wasn't about to put Kyle into the line of fire yet again should things go south. He'd left him with a promise to stop by after he finished his investigation, whether or not he found anything, and a demand that he keep his window locked, going so far as to make Kyle memorize a certain tapping rhythm for his knock.
"Do not open the window unless you hear that knock, do you understand me?" he'd demanded.
Kyle had pouted, sheepishly rubbing his neck markings, "I'm not a damn little kid."
"I know. Do it for my sake if it makes you feel better, just make sure you do it."
Mysterion grunted softly, sweeping along the side of a large concrete building on the corner of the block, moving his fingers down to snag the neatly folded paper from his beltline. He opened it up to Kyle's straight-laced penmanship, squinting as he struggled to read in the dim streetlights behind him. He glanced up to a street sign across the road, licking over his lips. Fairbank. He was on the right street, just a matter of finding the target now.
He indulged himself in a long, slow breath of the summer air, sprinkled with the thick aroma of humidity and distant evergreens before snapping himself back into attention. It was what he could only call a 'talent', where he became hyper-focused at the drop of a hat. It was a vital trick he'd had to learn fast the first time that he'd picked up the cape, the slightest bit of distraction could lead to a number of things: Someone getting away, something getting destroyed, or, worst of all, someone getting hurt.
He crept down along the way of the street, stealthily making his way along the shadows of the buildings, trying to keep his noise to the barest minimum. Cloaked eyes steadily scoped out his surroundings, saying a silent thank you for probably the millionth time in his career that he lived in such a podunk, empty town. This would be damn near impossible if he were smack-dab in the middle of somewhere like Denver, where the nights were still lively and full of functionality. A town that conked out at 9:30 was more than perfect for this type of unostentatious work.
A large sign glowing white in the night caught his eye, moving closer to see the soft-edged wording 'Helping Mothers', a soothingly swooping bubblegum pair of butterflies painted in beside it. He nodded to himself, turning his attention towards the one story brick building and straightening himself up. Sharp eyes flickered to a sliver of light creeping out the side of the way and he twisted his lips. Kyle had told him that no one was here at night, that it cleared out then for the women to go with their kids to the women's shelter on the edge of town.
"Maybe the damn owner," he thought tiredly. Great. That certainly didn't make for an easy mission.
He flinched, hearing a loud group laughter, muffled from within the building and he blinked, cocking his head. Carefully he crept his way through the yard, hugging around the sparse trees littered throughout the grass and biting his lip as the sound seemed to get louder. He made his way to the edge of the building, slipping a gloved hand around the wall and peeking behind the way. His eyes landed on a small window well along the bottom, beaming light out into the open night. He took a collective breath, moving forward towards the glowing beacon.
He dropped down into a crouch, edging his way towards the pane and slowly lowering himself to peek in from an angle. His eyes narrowed, seeing a good collection of men and women gathered in the room. "It's basically a day-shift woman's shelter," Kyle had informed him as he had dug out the information for the hero. "No men allowed in without an appointment for business, even then it's hard as shit to get in. My assistant had to practically be a character witness and refer the owner to Fatass for a promise that I wouldn't hurt anyone."
Mysterion's sight swept along the gathering, shaking his head. Apparently scrawny, good-natured Kyle had to be scrutinized, but a handful of tattooed, smoking men looking like they were fresh off the cover of a domestic abuse magazine were completely fine to mosey on in. He continued gazing along, unable to make out their muffled conversations but hearing the harsh tones and the laughter, a shudder rolling down his spine. He didn't have to know just what they were saying, everything from body language to the sharp nuances in their voices was enough to tell him all he needed to know: These people were up to no good.
He grit his teeth, shaking his head irritably at the window well's locking mechanism. If he could just open the damn thing a crack, this would be a shit ton easier. He sighed through his nose, continuing to look along before a platinum blonde head caught his attention and he froze. The woman was scoffing, flipping off a man beside her with a long gel-acrylic nail and swiping a cigarette from his hand for herself. He heard her voice muddled in with the rest, that same whining, valley-girl tone he'd dealt with nearly a month beforehand. Apparently Mercedes was let off easier than expected. He didn't expect the cops to be so lenient. But if they didn't have much against her, he couldn't exactly blame them at the end of the day. And the notion of someone bailing her out wasn't far-stretching if she was involved with running for the group, her set amount wouldn't have been too high for them to touch.
He bit his lip worriedly. Her being here could only lead him to the conclusion that the people with her ran in the same crowd. Which meant that all the skeevy shit he'd been dealing with could very easily partly be taking place in this building. But Kyle had checked it out already, he said it was perfectly serviceable as it was supposed to be when he'd gone to check out the financial standing. Mysterion grimaced. This could mean a number of things. The owner could just have a night job as a criminal. The owner could be unaware of the happenings and these people just happened to pick this particular location for their little meet-and-greets. It could all be a set-up. This could be temporary until they found somewhere else to pal around.
Too many options, so little time to work it all out.
He took a quick head count, spotting about fifteen people right off and he shook his head. He couldn't take down so many people, there was no way in hell. His mind fleeted to the trackphone hooked onto his belt, wondering briefly if he should call the cops to start a raid. But, like Yates had told him, they couldn't exactly work together. Calling them to pick up people was difficult enough, and if they lost anyone in the line of duty due to him calling... Needless to say, it wouldn't end well for either party.
He could wait until they began leaving, follow one until they were isolated, and then beat them down for information. He nodded to himself slowly. That might just have to be what he did, and all he could do is hope that they started to disperse soon. The man sighed tiredly, continuing to watch and narrowing his eyes at one professionally dressed woman with a razor sharp stare as she stood and headed to a back room, holding up her hand to signal the rest of the group to wait. Mysterion bit on a gloved knuckle. That could very well be the 'owner'. She could just as easily be a part of this.
Only a few minutes of tense apprehension passed before the woman came back into view with a bulging envelope. Mysterion tilted himself a bit to get a better view, eyes widening as she opened the flap in front of a large man, showing a thick stack of dollar bills before slamming it back closed and casually tossed it to him. Mysterion's jaw slowly dropped. What in the hell was he paying witness to?
All questions came to a sudden halt as a sharp pain slashed down by his shoulder blade, a cry falling from his lips as he tumbled forward onto the grass. He looked back behind him, seeing a man watching him amusedly. "Not nice t' spy on people," he said dryly.
Mysterion gritted his teeth, trying to scramble up before a boot slammed onto his spine and forced him back down. He hissed in frustration, hand reaching up and back to snag the short-blade knife from his back and rip it out of the wound with a yelp. He twisted, letting the blade fly straight and true into the man's calf. He howled, faltering for just a moment, enough time for Mysterion to grab his foot and throw him back off of him and send him back onto the ground. The hero hopped up, hissing and reaching back over with his right hand, clutching onto the bleeding wound from his left shoulder. He scowled, "Wanna fuckin' go?" he hissed to the man trying to pry the knife out of his leg. "Who do you work for?!"
The man's dark, shadowed eyes slivered up to the hero, lips setting firmly before he suddenly let his fist fly towards the window, beating against the pane and getting his friends' attention. "We got someone up here!" he screamed. Mysterion's eyes widened, looking to see the group beginning to quickly run towards the stairs and his breath hitched. Instinct took over, knowing well enough the odds were far out of his favor. He turned on his heavy heel and bolted off into the night, heading down the street, not even bothering to slip through the shadows, just looking for himself a fire escape as he heard a barrage of voices breaking out into the night air.
"Goddammit!" he hissed, berating himself. He knew better than this. He knew to be on guard, but the overwhelming possibilities that he'd found in front of him did him in. He was so used to simplicity in these instances. Find one or two, beat 'em up, get his answers. Not this puzzle-making bullshit that he was being dragged through.
He turned a sharp corner down an alleyway, trying to keep himself far ahead of the pack and biting his lip nervously. He spotted a hanging ladder, hurrying to rush and hop atop a dumpster nearby and grasp onto it. He let out a soft cry, his stabbed shoulder throbbing furiously at him for making such a strenuous motion, but it was either that or get killed. And he wasn't about to lose his chance to work through this with Kyle. It couldn't wait until tomorrow.
He scurried up the way, trying to force his mind away from the agonized throbbing onto his goal as he slipped up the way onto an escape. He glanced at the roof a few feet above him, snagging a window sill and hopping up onto the frame, shimmying his way onto the top of the building with a long-winded groan. He rolled up onto his knees, panting and grating his lip fiercely as he crawled to the edge of the roof, peeking down over the awning and keeping himself well out of sight. The group below were spread out, going in different directions looking for him, a few of the men shouting out orders and empty threats into the night. Mysterion sighed, slinking back down and bowing his head, shaking it slowly. He would just have to wait. He'd have to let them disperse before he made his way back towards the suburbs. His mind again flickered to his phone before the notion disappeared altogether.
He knew well enough, there was only one other person who could help him figure this one out.
Stabbing his way through a lazily prepared salad was the last on the list of things that Kyle would want to be doing in that moment as he waded through names on two sets of lists laid out before him. Another sheet laid between the two, filling with names matching both sets and social security numbers to make his job a little easier down the way. He popped his lips before shoving in another forkful of ranch-coated spinach, chomping away quietly and trying to keep himself from looking at his clock again. He failed for the fifth time in the past eight minutes, catching the 1:46 on his monitor and frowning worriedly. Mysterion had left at 10:30, promising to come back once he was done with looking into the shelter. The building wasn't huge, there wasn't much for him to scavenge through. Kyle swallowed his leaves, grating his lip nervously. He must have found something, something big. Something that required a lot of his attention. That's the only reason it'd take him so long, right? The redhead shut his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. At least, that's what he'd keep telling himself. It was a lot better than the alternative notions.
He jerked up into attention at a rushed, rhythmic knock, nearly falling over himself and his chair as he whirled around onto his feet, hurrying towards the pane with relief he tried failingly to hide. He glanced as he unlocked the window to see the hero standing with his hand clasping his shoulder, worry skyrocketing as he forced the window up, "Dude, are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," came the gruff reply. Mysterion winced as he pulled himself up through the window, pain and blood loss killing his usual grace as he tumbled face first onto Kyle's floor with a groan as he crossed the threshold.
Kyle's eyes widened, seeing the dark maroon splotching his purple uniform, seeping through the thick fabric of his cape. "Holy shit," he said hurriedly, kneeling down beside him. "What happened?"
"Someone saw me," he muttered, shakily trying to get himself back up. Kyle frowned, moving over to his right side and snagging his good arm, throwing it over his shoulders.
"Come on," he coaxed, genially helping him back onto his feet. Mysterion sighed exhaustively, trying to take his arm back before Kyle held tight, leading him over to his desk chair. "Sit down," he instructed gently.
"I don't need-"
"Sit. Down," he ordered, not giving him another opportunity to fight again as he forced him into the seat. Mysterion hissed through his teeth, Kyle staring at him and biting his lip. "Are you dizzy?"
"Huh?"
"Dizzy. Are you dizzy?" he repeated patiently.
He shrugged, "A little."
"All right, stay still, I'll be right back," he said sternly, turning on his heel and hurrying towards his kitchen. Mysterion stared after him for a moment before sighing and dropping his head back towards the papers on the desk. He bit his lip, staring at the names Kyle had been tirelessly wading through and shaking his head. Too many leads going on, just far too many.
He sat in silence, listlessly reading over names before Kyle came back out into the room, a large cup of juice with a straw and a first aid kit in his hand. "Here," the redhead said, handing him the drink.
He gripped it back, sighing with a small smile. "Thanks," he said softly.
"I need to look at your back," he said firmly, setting his kit on the desk and prying it open.
The man froze, glancing at him nervously. "You can't. I wear a mask for a reason."
Kyle nodded softly, "What we're gonna do is put your cape over your head to keep you hidden, all right?" He wasn't stupid, he knew that the hero was going to take issue with this, but he wasn't about to just let him bleed out on his living room floor. Mysterion hesitated and Kyle sighed, "Dude, I'm not gonna be a dick about it and sneak a peek at your face, all right? But we need to make sure you don't need stitches or anything."
"And if I do?" he challenged.
"Then we figure it out from there," he assured him, moving him to grip the heavy cape in his hands. "Lean forward a bit," he instructed. Mysterion groaned under his breath before doing as told, bringing his drink in close and sipping tentatively as Kyle diligently pushed the cape up and over his head, letting it fall in front of him in a shroud of fabric. The redhead bunched it just so, making sure any hint of seeing the man's face was out of his reach, regardless of the annoying incessant voice in the back of his mind telling him that it'd ease a lot of his stress if he'd just look.
His eye caught the gun tucked into his belt, shaking his head and directing his attention back where it belonged. He grimaced at the large red stain standing out prominently on his back, eying the coil zipper hidden amongst the rayon. Mysterion flinched a bit at Kyle's fingers gently working with the metal down to the mid of his spine. "You're fine," Kyle assured him softly, pushing down his left sleeve over his arm to reveal the wound, wincing at the oozing skin. "You good?"
"I'm fine," he muttered, muffled under the fabric, feeling green eyes tracing over the damage. He couldn't help but smile softly at the sensation of his cape so precisely placed around him. At least Kyle knew just how important this secretive crap was to him, regardless of how much it annoyed him.
Kyle reached to his kit, tearing open a large antibiotic wipe. "This may burn," he warned him. "Tell me what happened."
Mysterion nodded, cringing as the cooled cloth was very gently applied to his skin, rubbing around the outer stains towards the wound in small circles. "There were a bunch of people in the basement," he muttered, gritting his teeth and taking a sip of his juice to calm himself down. "Don't know who they were, but I recognized one girl."
"Oh?" he cocked his brow, continuing to work his skin back to its normal hue.
"Yeah, a girl I caught about a month ago," he muttered.
Kyle paused, blinking, "So... a criminal? Maybe she's one of the moms?"
The hero shook his head. "No. She's a fucking prostitute with no ties far as I can tell. Runs with the fuckers we're looking for."
The redhead blinked, "What were they doing?"
"I'm not sure," he said, hissing sharply as Kyle edged over the mark.
"Sorry, sorry," he winced, rubbing his back soothingly. "I gotta clean it, though, Dude."
He nodded, "I know, I know." He rolled his shoulder a bit, regaining his limber demeanor and letting the accountant go back to work. "I don't know why all of them were there, there were about fifteen or so. One woman went into the back and came out with an envelope of money, though..." He paused, twisting his lips. "What did the owner look like, Kyle?"
"Hm?" he blinked, lost in his own confusion before the words set in. "Oh, the charity owner?" He waited for a confirmation nod from the bundle of fabric and glanced up thoughtfully. "She was about my height, had brown hair and glasses. Eyes like she was ready to rip your heart out at a moment's notice," he chuckled awkwardly.
Mysterion bit his lip, "I think that's who was handing them the money, then."
"So... she's involved in all this somehow," Kyle murmured, finishing dabbing off blood and pulling back away, eyes lingering on the defined muscle shining with antibacterial moisture before shaking himself into attention. "I don't think you need stitches," he informed him, moving to grab gauze and medical tape from his kit, tossing the hemoglobin-stained wipe into the wastebasket beside his desk filled with ticker tape.
The hero sighed in relief. Good, that'd save him a lot of issues he wasn't willing to muddle through. "I just don't know how she is."
"Couldn't pick anything up?" he asked, cutting off a strip of gauze and folding it over a few times, beginning to snip his medical tape.
He shrugged, stopped as Kyle put a soft hand on his shoulder to limit his movement and slow the bleeding. "I probably could have, but someone was outside," he muttered. "They snuck up on me and stabbed me."
Kyle's face fell guiltily, "I'm sorry... Jesus, I never would've sent you there alone if I knew that kind of shady shit was happening."
"It's good you sent me," Mysterion insisted, wincing as Kyle delicately set the wrapping in place, beginning to fasten it down atop his skin. "I'd rather I get stabbed than you."
Kyle rolled his eyes, "Cut the martyr bullshit, Mysterion," he muttered. "Either one of us getting stabbed wouldn't be a good thing. I'm just glad it was only your shoulder. I was afraid it was something worse when you took so fucking long," he admitted, holding his palm down over the tape to keep it in place.
He smirked lightly, "That worried for me?"
A light red crossed over his cheeks before he glared at his covered neck, "I'm not here to be your fucking army wife, Buddy. Either you get back or you don't, I don't care."
"You're a shitty liar," he said casually. "You're allowed to cry about the loneliness you have without me, Kyle. No judgement."
"Watch it," he warned, rolling his eyes again as the man began to snicker. He sighed irritably, slowly zipping his suit back into place and helping him move his cape back down over his back.
Mysterion turned in the chair, leaning his cheek into his palm and staring up at the flustered redhead. "Aw, you're embarrassed."
"I'm frustrated," he corrected bitterly. "I'm working with a child," he gestured at him dismissively.
He chuckled, taking another long sip of juice, feeling the onset of normalcy beginning to creep the edges of his frazzled mind. "Thanks," he said sincerely, tipping the glass towards him. "Sorry I tried bleeding on your carpet."
"Don't be sorry," he said, frustration leaving in lieu of concern, he stepped back a bit, leaning on the arm of the couch straight across from the desk and they stared at each other. "Whaddya think we're dealing with here?" he asked. "You think that's a meeting place?"
"Maybe," he nodded slowly. "Maybe where they get their funds. Must run a ring out of the basement," he rolled his eyes.
Kyle paused, "Basement?" he repeated. Mysterion nodded and he narrowed his eyes. "She had a safe in her office, all the funds should be in there."
"Apparently she has a backup stash," he shrugged lightly. He noted the heavy consideration over the redhead's face and he frowned. "I know that look," he said gruffly, getting Kyle's attention back on him. "You stay away from there," he warned.
The man frowned, "But I-"
"No buts," he lectured. "You're already bruised to shit and I got fucking stabbed," he gestured between the both of them. "Obviously we're getting in pretty fucking deep."
Kyle glared, "Well, what? You want us to just stop dead in our tracks? Hope it sorts itself out?"
"No," he shook his head, slowly getting up off the chair and walking up, leaning on the back of the couch next to him. "But I don't want you going anywhere regarding this whole thing alone, Kyle."
"Oh, but you're perfectly suited for going by yourself?" he challenged. "I'd be going during the day, I'd be a shit ton safer than you are out there twirling around at night, Mysterion."
He sighed tiredly, "Look, regardless-" he stopped as Kyle held up his hand.
"I'm going to give it a little while," he said quietly. "I am going back there, regardless of what you tell me to do. But I'm going to let this all simmer for a bit before heading back that way."
Mysterion leaned his head back and sighed. Stubborn per the usual. "Fine," he grumbled. "Just make sure you tell someone, in case I have to come fucking save you."
He narrowed his eyes, "I'm not a goddamn damsel, Asshole. Considering both our track records, either one of us could end up having to goddamn save the other." He opened his mouth to retort, letting it slowly slip closed once more. Okay. He had a point. "But fine," he conceded. "It'll be during the workday, so I'll tell Butters. So long as you keep me up-to-date on wherever your stubborn ass is."
"I wouldn't dream of keepin' my location a secret from you," he teased, elbowing him lightly. "Wouldn't want you to be too worried."
"Oh, get over yourself," Kyle scoffed, looking away as Mysterion broke into a round of laughter. The shaking of his chuckles hit the hero all at once, head beginning to spin and he stumbled. Kyle shot his head back over, catching under him and frowning, leading him to the couch. "You need to sit down, your blood volume hasn't caught back up yet."
"I'm not here to lounge," he said tiredly.
Kyle frowned. "You're not leaving until you're fucking stabilized, Fucktard, so deal with it." Mysterion groaned, knowing well enough that fighting it wouldn't get him anywhere, he was way too woozy. Kyle sat him down on the cushions, snagging the empty glass from his hand. "Hang on, I'll get you more," he said, turning and heading back towards his kitchen.
Mysterion sighed, smiling crookedly after the man before leaning his head back on the couch, trying to lead himself through some deep breathing to get himself back up to standards the redhead would find suitable. He knew this was a waste of time for him, knowing well enough he was taking a trip to the train tracks when Kyle let him leave to catch himself a ride into his next life, fully revitalized and missing any hint of a wound or pain... But he was grateful for the compassion regardless, and he wasn't about to fight against him over it. If he was here, he could keep an eye on him, that was what mattered. He jerked into attention as a glass bumped into his arm, looking up to see Kyle standing with his own drink and paperwork.
"If you're gonna be a useless lump, you're gonna be a lump that helps me sort through names."
Mysterion smirked, nodding softly. "I think even my dumb ass can handle that."
Kyle returned the expression, sitting next to him on the couch and tossing him a pen and his handwritten list. "Good." They settled in, slowly worming their way through the identities in front of them, talking and laughing softly at a few different aliases as they debated whether or not they were possibly someone's real name. From beyond the couch on the desk, Kyle's laptop sat wide open and directed towards them, microphone grasping hints of their conversation.
On the other side of town in his own home, Eric Cartman watched the scene from his laptop, staring at the live feed with Kyle's webpages splattered across the bottom of his screen. A sly smirk cut up his plump face, fingers tapping lightly on a lowball glass of scotch. "Mysterion," he murmured, nodding to himself smugly. Step one was out of the way, now all that was left was leading Kyle and his new friend close enough to grab, and then bringing them both crashing down.
A/N: Hurray for stalker Cartman, the only character not considered OOC for doing such things. Understandably.
Thanks for R&Ring!