A/N: Breaking from my hiatus just for this chapter because I'm stuck in a car and can't do my school stuff here blargh.

Enjoy~

Stealing a glance at his LED watch, Mysterion let out a long sigh through his nose. 11:45, way later than he usually made his trip to Kyle's, but a side stop to hinder a shoddy robbery attempt prevented a timely arrival. Trying to keep himself out of view of the civilians always managed to increase the time taken, a necessary evil he supposed. Evading the eyes of bystanders and victims was a far more harrowing experience than staking out hardened criminals any day in his book. A lot more risk was involved than a simple shot through the head, after all. Rumors throughout the syndicate was a plus, it made them more anxious, more open for attack, and more likely to turn on one another at the end of it all. But throughout the mainstream? Not so much. Tabloid reporters tracking him down and letting criminals and civilians alike know of his whereabouts could spell disaster, whether it be alerting the bad guys to his location, or putting the lives of innocents in the line of fire. He'd much rather just avoid those possibilities altogether.

He quietly stalked through Kyle's neighborhood, smirking a bit at the sight of lights turning off and the world beginning to cease for the suburban residents. He could clearly remember Kyle calling him and asking him to go house-hunting with him, knowing well enough that his anxiety would prevent him from just making a damn decision. Kenny had taken the time to scope out each neighborhood under Kyle's consideration, finding one to be what he considered to be the safer part of town and convincing him to buy there. A little extra on the mortgage, sure, but he was just happy to know that the chances of someone dealing heroin on his sidewalk were less than in Kenny's own neighborhood. It was a comfort that he'd expressed to the redhead, to which the man had rolled his eyes and proclaimed that "bad things happen everywhere. I don't need you to babysit me". But no matter the discussion or the resulting three-hour debate, Kyle had signed the paperwork for Kenny's suggestion the following day.

Mysterion crept behind Kyle's neighbors' fence, sliding along the spaced wooden pickets, biting his lip anxiously. The earlier events of the day had spoken loud and clear that Kyle was onto something with this entire operation, and it was something that involved him far more than he was comfortable with. The blonde had barely been able to work the entire day, too distracted by worry and contemplation of just what it was they were getting themselves into. He twisted his lips, beyond sure that Kyle had spent the same concerns throughout the day. Only one way to find out, he supposed.

Steadily sweeping his way towards the window, he raised his gloved hand, rapping quickly three times, slowly twice, and another four in staccato succession. He glanced in, seeing Kyle jerk up from his desk and quickly whirl around and onto his feet, nearly stumbling as he rushed towards the pane. Mysterion's face dropped at the pure frustration etched onto his profile.

Kyle worked up the glass, "Thank god," he said exhaustively. "Come on, come on," he urged, stepping out of the way.

Mysterion frowned, shimmying up into the room as Kyle made way back to his desk. The hero shoved down the window and rushed up beside him, "What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Kyle looked at him, a wildly distressed glaze over green eyes. "No. No I'm not. I'm fucked."

"What? Why?" he asked worriedly. Kyle gestured to his desk, the man looking down and raising his brow at the papers completely disarrayed atop the usually immaculate surface. "Gonna have to be more specific, Kyle," he muttered, seeing nothing but a jumble of names and numbers scattered about.

"Fatass… he… he…." He let out a whimper and scratched up through his hair in frustration. "I know where the money is going, it's going out all right, but it's not going where I thought it was. Oh fuck I'm in so much trouble-"

"Slow down, slow down," Mysterion cooed, reaching up and holding his shoulders in his hands. "Tell me what's going on."

"He switched all the savings account numbers," he whispered. "To foreign accounts." He grabbed a charity bank sheet, holding it in display, "See the checking number?"

"Yeah?" he quirked his brow.

"The routing number is through the Savings and Loan in town, it checks out just fine. But the routing number for the savings account doesn't. I cross checked them through a route finder and they're all for accounts set up in fucking Europe."

Mysterion's eyes widened, "Wait. Wait how is the money going to them though?"

He took a deep, steadying breath, "Someone went in and overrode all of my entered information. Well, not just someone, my assistant. He wouldn't catch a discrepancy like this, he'd just enter whatever numbers Fatass told him to work with. So they're all signed off by him and Cartman has his name on none of it."

"Uh oh," he murmured, grabbing papers and flipping through them rapidly, glancing at the differing numbers and shaking his head.

"That's not all, there's a shit ton more I've been able to piece together," Kyle bit his lip. "All of the accounts were initially set up so that a percentage would be delivered into their savings when we made a deposit."

"Okay?"

"None of that is happening," he frowned. "Every cent is going into their checking accounts, but an amount is being taken out before people see the drop hit, which means that it's being transferred out to the foreign accounts and reworked before banking hours are open."

Mysterion cocked his head, "How the fuck is that possible?"

"Someone in the bank is working for Cartman," Kyle said lowly, opening up his computer and sighing angrily. "And I know just who it is, because they're the only one who has full access to the account and would tell me the initial drop but not the outer transfer." He opened up the banking website, shaking his head all the while. Mysterion leaned over him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and wincing at the pure tension riding through his upper back. Kyle pulled up the staff page, skimming down until landing on a picture of a platinum blonde and pointing at it accusingly, "Anna Bowers. Do you recognize her at all?" he demanded.

Mysterion's face dropped. "That's Mercedes," he whispered.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, "Who?"

He sighed through his nose, squeezing his shoulder, "That prostitute I told you about that was at the woman's shelter."

Kyle's eye's grew wide, shooting his attention back onto the screen. "I've been handing this money to her," he seethed. "This more than explains why Cartman wanted me to get all of the charities involved through this particular bank! That fucking little cunt, I'll wring her goddamn neck!" He slammed his laptop shut and growled fiercely.

"Kyle, deep breaths," Mysterion said softly, continuing to rub his shoulder. "We'll figure this out, all right?" Well, that explained well enough why Mercedes was already out of prison and back on the streets. He was more than willing to bet her one phone call was to a certain fat piece of shit that had plenty of money to bail her out so she could continue keeping Kyle in the dark and making transactions for Cartman.

"Easy for you to say!" he exclaimed, running his fingers back through his hair. "Dude, the foreign accounts… they're in my name."

The hero recoiled, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I glanced around as far as I could with a few of the banking numbers, if you work with some of the sites and have the routing information it'll give you the names on the accounts if nothing else in some of them… My name is on every single account. Along with some of our friends," he snapped, grasping the paper from Larson's office and waving it around. "These are names on joint accounts! All with me as a cosigner!"

"How did that happen?"

"Fatass has me working for him," he said lowly. "He has access to everything of mine. My social security number, my employment history, my tax information, everything. It wouldn't take much for him to be able to set up accounts in my name with some of this fake ID shit," he gestured to the pile of information for Anthony Pierce. "And a lot of these accounts don't fucking check if you have a multitude of accounts so long as you keep up your goddamn minimum deposit," he pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "This explains so fucking much. It explains where the money is going, why it's disappearing, and why he had someone else do my fucking taxes last April."

Mysterion paused, raising his brow. "You didn't find that suspicious?"

"I was so busy that I didn't have time to do my taxes," he said exhaustedly. "And he was taking his to get done by someone else and offered to take mine off my hands. I figured it was fine, I worked for a damn tax firm I know how things are scrutinized there so I just let it slide without more than a thanks. They would've tracked down all these external accounts and entered them so the IRS wouldn't fucking come after me wanting to know about them." he groaned. "And I got a lower return than expected but didn't fucking follow up on it because it just wasn't a priority. Fuck I'm so stupid."

"Kyle, you're not stupid," Mysterion said firmly.

"This explains so much though," he whispered. "This is why he wouldn't fire me or let me leave, he wouldn't have a patsy otherwise. This is why he keeps me so fucking busy. So I won't have time to notice that things like this were happening! It's why he gave me an inexperienced assistant and even getting him trained still results in me doing all the real work while he's just doing daily reports. Mysterion… I… I'm so fucked," he whimpered, leaning down and hiding his face in his palms. "Oh god, he's got me wired so far into this I don't think even Stan will believe me if I tell him I had nothing to do with it."

The hero bit his lip, heart lurching miserably. "Hey, hey," he cooed, unhooking his fingers from around his face and pulling him back upwards, turning him to stare at his devastated face. "We'll figure this out."

"You keep saying that but this just keeps getting worse," he emphasized. "I… I don't know what to do at this point," he admitted defeatedly. "I can't close the accounts, not without whoever the fuck else is involved in them. I can't go to the cops with my name on every aspect. I can't confront Fatass, he'll fucking kill me," he stressed. "I got the shit kicked out of me and you got fucking stabbed," he gestured to Mysterion's shoulder. "Mysterion, what do I do?" he begged.

"I… I'm not sure," he said quietly. "I'm really out of my element here. This is a lot deeper than just punching people in the face." Kyle's shoulders dropped and he looked at the ground miserably. The hero's heart lurched. He knew Kyle too well to see him acting like this, knew that it took a lot to get the man to this point anymore, where he really did find things to be a hopeless cause. "Kyle," he said firmly, cupping his chin and forcing him back towards his face. "I swear, we'll figure this out and you will be safe."

"How?" he whispered. "Dude, neither of us are safe right now. Hell, the only thing probably keeping me alive at this point is because Fatass needs me alive to keep these accounts running," he winced.

Mysterion frowned, "He also doesn't know how far into this you've delved, I'm sure."

"Don't bet on that one," he muttered, shifting his face out of a gloved palm. "He confronted me today. Kept using this tone and these threats like he just knows that I know," he scowled. "Didn't directly say it but he was pretty much just challenging me to say what I know…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm so screwed. I don't see how this is going to end without me dead or serving twenty to life."

"I won't let that happen, Kyle," he promised. "I'll get you out of the country before I let that happen to you."

He smirked weakly, "Because that's not suspicious in the least. Some masked guy helping me across the border, there's no way that can be misconstrued as a guilty conscious."

Mysterion sighed, nodding slowly. He had a hell of a point, but either way, he wasn't about to let Kyle take the fall in this if things spiraled to that point. It was obvious, though: Time was ticking down. They'd have to go at this head-on and go for as far up the top as they could risk. "Your officer friend, he said one name, right?"

Kyle blinked, nodding slowly. "If that much. You think there's someone in particular to focus on? I have the basics checks running right now for about half the list."

"Not a 'real' name," he quoted. "A street name. Because he can pass that one off as working a case separately, not involve you in it in the least."

"Well, I'm definitely not opposed to being out of the line of fire," he shrugged. "What's the name?"

"Boomslang," he said firmly. "Got the name out of Schroeder."

Kyle frowned, "Why didn't you bring this up to me earlier?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "I thought we could work our way up, but not at this rate, not with you so engrained in all of this. We need to get to the top and bust it down."

Kyle shifted, "Isn't Cartman the top?" he asked quietly. "Should we do something about him?"

Mysterion shook his head. "No. Not yet. Kyle, if he knows, then he's got an eye on his end of things. He can catch you in the act of snooping around and it's just a phone call away from you being front page news."

Kyle bit his lip, letting the thought settle over him uneasily. "Do… do you think he'd let it go that way? What with me being what's holding his fucking little scheme together," he scowled bitterly.

A long sigh crept through his lips, "I'm not sure. But if you're close to unraveling what he's been doing, he'd sooner get rid of you and then deal with finding another way to make it work than go to jail himself."

Kyle's posture slackened more and he crossed his arms uncomfortably. "So. Boomslang, you said? Like the fucking snake?"

He snorted quietly, "Yeah. Gay as fuck, ain't it?"

He nodded in agreement, looking back at the paper strewn across his workspace and sighing. "I didn't want this, you know," he murmured. "I just wanted a nice, quiet accounting job in a comfortable office where the coffee was tepid at best and my biggest problem was finding out someone forgot to account for sticky notes they bought."

Mysterion watched him pitiably, "You'll get that someday, but the coffee will be hot all day."

He chuckled, "Unless you're there to keep it warm, it's a nice promise but one you can't keep. Office pots don't work so well…" He lost his smile and sighed again. "I actually loved this job when I got it," he admitted softly. "I… I hated that I worked for Cartman but… I stayed busy, but comfortably so. Like just enough to keep me motivated. People liked me, I went out after work with coworkers and got a drink. I was Kyle, not Mr. Broflovski with that fucking spiteful tone I get anymore," he frowned. "I wonder how quick he did it," Kyle whispered. "How quick did he set this up? Did he hire me in just for this or did he come up with the idea the more he piled onto me and realized I was distracted?"

"Knowing him? Long before," he said softly. "Let's face it, Kyle, there's no one he'd more happily screw over than you."

He shrugged listlessly with a sharp nod. "Yeah, but the problem is here that's it's not just me that's being taken down. It's all these nonprofits," he gestured aimlessly towards the paper trail. "You know what the prosecutor will say if someone catches on and I'm put on trial?" he asked miserably. "That I'm a heartless piece of shit stealing from… from cancer patients, from defenseless animals… from… homeless kids," his voice cracked as Mysterion watched him helplessly. "If I had the money to fucking give these places to make up for it I would, but I don't. Nowhere near it. I just want to figure this out, ya know? Just get it done with and get that fat fuck in jail where he belongs." Kyle sniffled quietly and Mysterion bit his lip, reaching forward and grasping him in a soft embrace.

"I promise," he whispered warmly into his ear. "We'll figure this out. I'll get you out of this."

"How?" he whispered back, fists curling against the man's chest and staring angrily at the purple uniform in front of him. "You do this where you're hidden, and you're not in any kind of trouble if this leaks out publically."

He gulped, "I know. I know you're the one at risk here. Trust me, I wish I could keep you out of it," he said quietly. "But at this point, I can't. I really had hoped that I just needed you for that one step, but it got out of control faster than I could handle on my own."

Kyle was silent for a moment before letting out a long breath and allowing his head to lean forward, resting his forehead on Mysterion's clavicle. "I'm not angry at you," he murmured. "I just hate where this all is. And I don't like that I'm alone in the limelight."

Mysterion nodded sympathetically, turning his head and planting a soft kiss against his cheek, Kyle's eyes widening immensely and his body stiffening. "We'll figure it out," he reemphasized.

Kyle's words were lost, too busy staring at the wisteria before him in shock. Mysterion cocked his head, at him, realization slowly beginning to set in on what he'd just done. "Uh…" his mouth dropped a bit before he cleared his throat. "Good work, I'll see you tomorrow," he said hurriedly, letting go and pivoting on his heel. He tried stepping away before a strong hand wrapped around his cowl and jerked him back.

"Oh no you don't!" Kyle snarled. "You don't kiss and run with me, Buddy!"

Mysterion winced, turning a bit and seeing the redhead staring him down, face a blossoming rouge. "You imagined it?" he tried. Kyle's fist clenched tighter in his cape and the man gulped anxiously. Impulse was definitely nothing on his side, no matter what personality he donned, it seemed.

"Why did you kiss me?" he demanded.

"You… you're… I…" he fumbled, eyes darting around the room. "Y-you were upset?"

Kyle's eyes narrowed further, reaching over with his other hand and grabbing his upper arm, whirling him around and glaring fiercely. "No. I want a real answer."

Mysterion sank into himself, gently prying off his hands and holding his clenched fists. "You're pissed," he whispered.

The redhead blinked at the statement, turning a deeper shade across his cheeks. "I'm not pissed, I'm shocked," he corrected. "What was that?!"

He shrugged awkwardly, "It felt right?" He cleared his throat and looked at Kyle's hands still in his gloves, Kyle following his stare and gulping, feeling the leather coolly wrapped around his skin like an embrace all its own.

"You won't even tell me your name," he said steadily. "And I mean your alter ego or whatever you call your actual self," he rolled his eyes before finally gathering the courage to look back at the masked hood. "But you're okay with kissing me?"

Mysterion shifted his weight, letting the balls of his feet rise and fall in his sturdy boots. "One's more dangerous than the other."

"Which one?" Kyle questioned softly, finally beginning to settle from stunned into confusion and curiosity and… warmth. He could feel the soft lip marks staining his skin, a heat bursting from them that he'd never felt before. Like a menthol hit, it tingled, settled pleasantly against him in a soft static.

"Honestly, I'm not so sure," he murmured, berating the living hell out of himself for a slip like that. It could cost him far more than he was willing to part with. The possibilities ranged from just awkward tension to someone finding out and shooting down Kyle to get to him if word got around the inner circle of the syndicate that he'd pulled something so foolhardy. He tongued over his lips, tasting the clean, spiced sensation of Kyle's skin still splayed along his mouth. He gulped, lost in a haze as Kyle stared at him, keeping his hidden eyes firmly set on their hands. He sunk a bit as Kyle slowly pulled from his palms, waiting stoically for whatever came next.

He flinched as Kyle's left hand slid up to his cheek, fingertips just barely cresting the underside of the balaclava. He nearly jerked fully back from the touch before the fingers rounded behind his neck and pulled him forward, Kyle pressing up lightly on his toes and silently meeting his lips with his own. Mysterion automatically went up to cup his cheek, both of them awkwardly remaining pressed against one another, eyes trying not to cross as they stared intensively at the other. A few beats passed before both of them sank into the heat, heads twisting naturally and eyes slipping shut. The taste of minted gum and coffee swirled between the stifling space, both of them encapsulated in Mysterion's heavy hood, hidden from everything but one another. For just a moment, the papers across the desk were forgotten, melding into the annuals of just another day as a new excitement shot through the both of them; a mystery kiss to one, a step into uncharted, but always curious territory for the other.

Kyle finally pulled back for a breath, sinking back onto the soles of his feet, both of them fluttering their eyes open and gulping nervously for one of them to take the plunge at the first words. "So… that just happened," Kyle said awkwardly.

Mysterion cocked his brow, an amused smirk creeping onto tingling lips. "Move aside, Batman, we got another world's greatest detective."

Kyle scoffed, pulling his hand back and slapping him lightly on the side of the head. He pulled himself back and crossed his arms, rolling his shoulders back and straightening himself up as the hero chuckled lightly. "Well you weren't saying anything," Kyle finally spat out in a fluster.

Mysterion shrugged sheepishly, "Don't think that needed talking in it. Think you said all you wanted to loud and clear."

Kyle stammered, face lighting up once more, "You started it!"

"I just kissed your cheek, Man. I didn't go for the jackpot."

"Kissing you is not 'the jackpot'," he mocked. "Aren't heroes supposed to lack an ego?"

"Someone doesn't read comic books," he smirked lightly. He sighed, smacking his lips lightly, "All right, this needs figured out before you explode with questions and can't sleep," he teased, ignoring Kyle's spiteful mutters at the insinuation. "This a one-time thing?"

Kyle paused, shifting on his feet and shrugging, "I… I have no idea. Do you want it to be?"

"You're the one making out with an essential stranger," he reminded him.

The redhead paused, letting that sink on him and he sighed. "Okay, I need you to answer me something, and you don't have to be specific. A yes or no will do." Mysterion nodded curiously and Kyle glanced up shyly. "Do we get along, ya know… outside of… this?" he gestured between the both of them.

He nodded, letting his answer stew for a moment before saying, "Pretty well. You're not hard to get along with."

Kyle chuckled, "Now I'm thinking you are a stranger because no one who knows me well would say something like that."

Mysterion laughed softly, "You'd be surprised, Kyle." He paused for a moment, letting out a deep breath and scratching up under his hood. "And, to answer your other question… No. I don't want it to be a one-time thing."

"You didn't come seeking my help just for this, did you?" he asked dryly.

"You wish," he smirked. "No, I didn't even think of it, really. Not as Mysterion at least," he shrugged.

Kyle hitched his brow, "Oh really? But I don't get to know who you are even with this little fact?"

"Not yet at least," he chuckled. "Kyle, the threat we're dealing with here is real. I'm not trying to protect you from… some radioactive mad scientist or something," he winced. "These are real criminals with possibly deadly agendas. I don't want to risk you out in the open, just… just in case," he said quietly.

Kyle stared at him for a few moments, letting out a long sigh and nodding. "I think you're overestimating your importance if we're being honest here… But I get it."

"Anything between us stays here," he said firmly. "At least… at least until we've fixed this particular problem. But even then-"

"Down-low, got it," he waved his hand dismissively. "Look I went out with a guy who was embarrassed he was dating a redhead and I had to keep it secret, okay?" he rolled his eyes. "I know how to keep it low. Besides, I'm pretty sure they'd throw me in the nuthouse if I told anyone I was dating someone who wears a cape."

"A cape made of….?" He teased.

"Rayon," he said flatly. "Do I get a gold star?"

Mysterion stepped forward, pulling his chin up and planting a sweet peck against his lips. "You get me instead."

"I'd rather take the sticker."

"Wow," he pouted, meeting Kyle's playful smirk and squeezing his face a bit before relinquishing the hold. "Look, it's been a long-ass night, I need to do some more patrolling before anything else pops up. Get some sleep."

Kyle sank a bit and sighed defeatedly. "I'll try. Don't get killed."

He chuckled, "I'll try," he echoed, giving another brisk kiss, a nice little stamp on their newfound deal before turning and heading to the window. He tore it up and looked back to see Kyle staring after him, shooting him a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow. Be careful, all right? Keep on your toes with Fatass." Kyle nodded, watching him hop up and slide out, slamming the window shut behind him and heading off into the night.

Mysterion ran into the woods, heart pounding excitedly. He wormed his way into a mess of trees, leaning against a large evergreen and staring up with a smile. Mysterion was worried, knew well enough that the pit was expanding beneath their feet and both of them were starting to be edged towards the crumbling fringe.

But Kenny? Kenny, for the moment, couldn't be happier if he tried.

A/N: Fucking finally. Back to hiatus I go.

Thanks for R&Ring!