Mysterion tensed as the car lurched to a stop, throwing his papers down onto the gearshift and staring straight ahead at the darkened U-Stor-It sign lingering down the block. A blob of color slowly came into focus under the dim street lamps in front of the facility, a worried clenching worming into his chest. "Look," he jerked his head up the way, Stan following his line of sight to two cars parked outside the gate.
He narrowed his eyes, fingers tightening around the wheel. Same build, same model, and sharp sight told him that it was the same damn license plate, too. "That's the car," he murmured. "He has to be here. Or at least the two who grabbed him."
He nodded in agreement. "All right. You two stay here and out of sight. I'll go break in and look-"
"Don't fucking try to pull this hero shit with me," Stan interjected with a hiss. "I'm the goddamn cop here," he reminded him, glancing behind them. "Butters, you stay here."
The blonde furrowed his brow, "Now hang on just a gosh darn minute! The more of us lookin' for 'im the better, right? Why don't we all go?"
Mysterion turned and glared, "Stan's trained for this and I've been doin' it for years. You'd just be a liability, Butters. You stay here and keep an eye on the car."
He looked between the both of them before letting out a 'hmph' and turning to shove his door open. Stan and Mysterion shared a glance before clambering out of the car as well, the vigilante looking down at the pudgy blonde. "I wanna help find him," he said firmly. "We have a better chance a' doin' so quicker if we're all lookin'!"
He looked over as Stan came up behind him, letting out a long, irritated sigh. "We don't have time to argue," he said, the detective rolling his eyes but nodding jerkily in agreement. Mysterion turned back to Butters and growled. "You listen: You find anything, you come get one of us, got it?" He nodded affirmatively, blinking as the caped form turned on his heel and made way towards the facility, the other two right on his tail. Automatically he saw the blinking of a pin pad attached to the front gate and sneered. He glanced up the fence and scowled, "Who the fuck needs razor wire on a fence?"
"Criminals who don't want to be seen," Stan muttered. "Any other ideas?"
Mysterion glanced around a bit, looking down the sidewalk for other possible entryways. He caught the large billboard hovering just beyond the fence, humming curiously and striding towards it. He glanced up in the dark, catching the distinct outline of a safety ladder and he bit his lip, moving to hop onto a dumpster directly beneath his target. He stumbled a bit on the inclined lid, stretching up on his toes and wriggling his fingers, being just under reach. "Fuckin'…," he muttered, nodding to himself and gulping, backing up to the edge of the dumpster's side.
"Dude, careful," Stan whispered, eyes darting around for any potential watchers. This was breaking and entering; the goddamn list of ammo to potentially be used against him was just getting longer and longer with each passing minute it seemed.
The vigilante grunted, running for a mere two steps before bending his knee and launching upwards, arms stretched, smacking against the metal and the slip-resistant pads of his gloves snaring hold of the slick material. He groaned quietly as his body swayed back down from his sudden stop, glancing up and furrowing his brow in determination. Gritting his teeth, arms aching but drive pushing him forward, he shakily lifted one arm, snagging the next rung and trying to bring his body weight up with him.
Butters clapped his hands together quietly. "You can do it!" he whispered.
"Shut up!" he hissed, far past wanting a goddamn distraction, much less a fucking cheerleader of all things. Stan watched in slight awe as he clambered his way upwards on arm strength alone, never quite picturing Kenny of all people to have anything in the realm of upper body strength. Then again, he reminded himself solemnly, a lethal combination of fear and adrenaline was a hell of a booster. And tone and posture alone told Stan just how terrified the hero truly was at the end of it all.
Mysterion grunted, shutting his eyes for a moment and bringing up his knee with some effort, arms quivering as he struggled to place his boot on the bottom rung at last. A long breath of relief left his lips as his weight was finally distributed, reopening his eyes and using his asset to scramble the rest of the way up and swing himself over the platform by the billboard. He reached down to the latch holding the ladder up in place, carefully unhooking it and catching the rungs to slowly lower it with as little noise as possible. He winced at the metallic scrape still echoing in the night, Stan and Butters peering through the fence to watch for anyone lingering within the perimeter.
The ladder finally came to a stop just above the dumpster, Stan and Butters hurrying to climb atop the bin and head towards the waiting hero as he made way to the other side of the billboard. Mysterion began glancing around the area and took a deep breath before hopping over the side of the platform onto the ladder leading into the facility grounds. Another grunt left him as he jumped off onto the pavement, narrowing his eyes for noises outside of his counterparts making way to join him. He scanned about the rows of units, teeth grinding irritably.
There were so fucking many they'd have to go through and check.
The other two finally hopped down beside of him, looking to him for a course of action. "This is your idea, what do you suggest?" Stan asked.
"We split up," he said firmly. "Stan take the left end, Butters take more towards the middle and work your way towards the left. I'll take the right and we'll see if we find something. Listen into every door, and if you find something, get the other two," he snapped, waiting for their confirmatory nods. "Let's go."
He should've listened to his mother. Should've become a fucking lawyer like she wanted. Should've just followed the family footsteps his dad had laid out for him. He wouldn't be in this mess, instead he'd be the one able to prosecute the fat sack of shit doing this to him. He wouldn't be one of the fucking victims, he'd be one of the tireless heroes instead of goddamn waiting for one within that category to rescue him. Kyle groaned, slinking miserably.
Mysterion was right. He wasn't fucking cautious enough. He should've let Stan tag along and patrol him. He should've had some kind of system where he could let someone know his location at all times. He should've done something, because his current situation was far from boding well.
Scared eyes flickered up to the approaching group of three, ducking down lower and teeth clattering against one another. Cartman stared down at him with a cruel smile, "So, Kahl. Kashkov is very happy with my idea of a going-away present."
He shuddered in nausea, sparing a glance towards the overly-amused noirette to his right before looking back past Burke and onto Cartman. "Why the fuck are you doing this?" he whispered. "I know you fucking hate me but why go this far?!"
He shrugged, "Because you made it so fucking easy. Because years of you getting in my fucking way let me know just how you work. No one better to work around than someone whose every goddamn move you know before they do. And, let's be honest here: You would've been perfectly safe still if your little tights freak hadn't found Schroeder and came to you for help."
"I knew about the missing money before he came along," he reminded him shakily. "Don't fucking try to pass blame onto someone else, you piece of shit."
He snorted, "Well, I was trying to relieve you of some of your self-loathing as another testament of my generosity towards you," he gestured down at him dramatically. "You're just so unappreciative, Jew. Maybe you'll learn to enjoy niceties after tonight. You'll be missin' 'em." He leaned down and snagged Kyle's chin, turning his head both ways and snickering as Kyle tried pitiably to bite at him and tightening his grip around his mandible. He snapped his head to display his bruising and swelling right cheek, pointing at it prominently. "This is the side you want," he said up to the others casually. Kyle strained to see him from his tilted angle, blinking in befuddlement. The brunette smirked, throwing him back against the wall and getting back to his feet, wiping some residue dried blood from off his fingers. "Oh well, Kahl, don't you know? You're not done being on camera," he gestured to the device in Burke's hands as he lightly tossed it between his palms.
"W-what?" he stammered, trying to shake off the last blow to his aching head.
He grinned, "Well I'm sure Mysterion would appreciate seeing you one last time, wouldn't he?" he mocked in a saccharine tone. "So we're gonna make sure to let him watch you one more time before he's out of the picture, too." Kyle gasped as his arm was brutally snagged and he was ripped forward, Kashkov undoing his tethering to the building. He glanced up, eyes blanketed in terror at Cartman's nonchalant stance. The brunette snapped his fingers at Burke, the other rolling his eyes but opening the camera and smirking down at him as he directed it towards the redhead's shaking form. "Smile for the camera, Kahl. It'll make it easier on your boyfriend," he taunted. He turned on his heel and waved, "Have fun, boys," he bid them farewell.
"Cart-Cartman, no!" he shouted, screeching as he was ripped to his feet and forced towards the backroom's door, trying to both stop the train of motion and keep from stumbling onto the ground from his bad knee. He couldn't stop shaking, adrenalized horror wracking through him as heavy hands guided him forward, feeling all eyes on him as he was pushed along. "Don't fucking do this, Cartman!" he screamed, thrashing and groaning as Kashkov tightened his grip around him to move him quicker.
"Just imagine him in a queer-ass cape and you'll be fine," he drawled, leaning against the table and snagging one of the laptops, quickly and mindlessly typing, not paying the redhead the slightest bit of attention. "Now if you don't mind, you can make all the noise you want in there, but we have things to discuss out here so please. Be more considerate," he scoffed.
Kyle let out a frustrated scream as he was picked up around the chest, half-carried and half-dragged the rest of the way, legs kicking back against his holder desperately. Kashkov rolled his eyes. "Stop moveeng or eet gets vorse, Ryzhevolosyy."
"St-stop!" he choked, blinking off stinging tears as he was pushed into the threshold of the back room. He whined, trying once more to plant his feet, caught in a mess of heightened nerves and wearying pain that sent him on a tumultuous ride through the motions. He hissed as a light was flipped on overhead, wincing and feeling the arm around him tightening. He hiccupped out a scared gasp as the door was kicked shut, peripheral catching Burke moving towards the back wall, leaning against the metal and lazily holding his camera up. Kashkov looked down at his trembling form, cocking his head and smirking lightly.
"Eef eet makes you feel better, I vas not planning for this until back 'ome. But Boss eenseests, you know 'ow eet ees."
Kyle shut his eyes and swallowed down a dry scream. "You don't have to do this," he whispered, teeth clattering obnoxiously.
"Actually, I do," he shrugged. "Boss vas clear."
"He won't be your boss if you're not here," he said shakily, trying to stall his time, use the only asset he had left.
The man snorted, whirling him around and keeping him pressed tightly against him, watching green eyes go wide with clarified fear. "Steell vill be," he said simply. "Just not as much say, but he vill fund projects. Makes for good partner." He leaned down towards Kyle's face, the redhead backing up as their eye levels met, seeing trembling lips and feeling the rapid, panicked breaths hitting his face. "You behave, eet vill be much easier for you," he cocked his brow. "Best to get used to eet soon, da?" He glanced up a bit at Burke laughing and shaking his head in the background, turning back to Kyle's face and smirking at the rage beginning to quickly flood his bruised features. "Vhat is vrong?" he taunted. "I vould not 'ave paid eef I vould not take care of you. Be grateful," he echoed.
Kyle gritted his teeth, looking over at a hand moving up to entangle in his hair and pull his head back a bit with a sharp intake of pained air. He watched as the man edged ever-closer towards his face, feeling heat nearing his lips and logic all but fled his frenzied state, tearing his head up farther and clamping his teeth down around the bridge of his nose.
"Fuck!" the man screamed, trying to pry him off.
Kyle snarled, delving his teeth down as far as they would sink, tasting blood leaking into his mouth but paying it little mind, bearing his weight down in the man's hold, dragging him with him as he leaned. The fingers tightened in his hair enough to rip out follicles, the tear in his scalp reopening as thrombocytes were separated from one another with the stretch. He let out a noise of discontent from the back of his throat as his spine was firmly punched, shaking his head and tearing the skin more.
Kashkov's eyes open furiously, hand moving from around his back up to grip his throat, Kyle gasping as his air was cut off at once, jaw creaking open as he struggled and the man pushing their faces apart from one another. He let out an enraged roar, throwing Kyle back towards the ground. The redhead twisted, taking the fall on his arm and looking up at his assaulter, panting as his blood dripped off his chin and curling up defensively.
Burke was cackling in the background, watching through the shaking camera footage. "He gotcha good, Kashkov!" he teased. "Boss told ya he'd be a handful!"
Kashkov scoffed, face scrunching in pain as he touched his wounded nose. He pulled back his bloodied fingers, looking past them at the balled up accountant and scowling ferociously. "I vas trying to be nice, Ryzhevolosyy," he spat, moving back towards him. Kyle gasped, trying to turn and get away before a strong kick to his hip turned him onto his back again, a dismayed cry eeking through his lips as Kashkov knelt down beside of him, slapping a hand over his mouth and watching his pupils shrinking in panic. He firmly pressed his head down against the floor, taking Kyle's kicking foot to the thigh before slamming a fist down into his sternum, Kyle losing his air and choking as the man straddled over top of him. He leaned down towards his face as he weakly reopened his eyes, gasping for breath between the spaces of his fingers and the man's eyes glimmered darkly with promise. "You should 'ave behaved."
Mysterion bit his lip, pressing his ear against yet another door, waiting for three beats and hearing nothing before continuing on to the next one. This was taking too long. He was only on his third fucking row. Who knew how many units there were in this fucking place, how many Stan and Butters had covered on their side. He groaned, fist clenching as he listened through the next door.
'God what if they took him somewhere else?' he thought in a panic. 'Just fucking brought the car here but he's being kept in some other town. Hell, on his way to some other state,' he wondered miserably before narrowing his eyes as he continued down the row. No, no Kyle had been right before: Cartman was a lazy-ass creature of habit. And like Stan had said, he'd want to rub it in his face for a good while that he'd won their fucking battle. Cartman would stick to where he knew, close to home, where he could round up as many cronies as he wanted to keep Kyle under control. Lord knew he couldn't do that by his fucking self.
He growled as he finished up the third row, dashing around to start the fourth. He began to put his ear on the first door before something caught his eye, looking along the back of the windowed units to find one down the row with a light brightly shining onto the pavement. He gasped, sprinting towards it and sliding to a stop beneath the pane. He gritted his teeth, ear going to the aluminum backing and squinting. He definitely heard something. Sounded like movement… like something hitting the floor and hard.
"He gotcha good, Kashkov! Boss told ya he'd be a handful!" a voice laughed clearly. His eyes widened, breath hitching.
He was in there. And he was in trouble.
He looked down the side of the building, looking for something to climb on to get to the damn window. A jutting figure caught his eye at the end of the building and he bit his lip, running towards it fast as he could manage. He slid to a stop beside a rain gutter, putting a gloved hand against it and rattling it a bit, looking at the minimal give and gulping. Just a few feet up. If it just held him for that long, he could get there. He took a deep breath, bending down and leaping into the air, snagging the gutter about seven feet up from the ground, textured gloves holding on tightly. He planted his boots against the siding, glancing at the brackets holding it in place as they leaned with his weight.
Quickly. Had to do this quickly.
He grunted, moving one hand and one foot at a time, leaning his weight back to get the best angle for hurriedly scaling his way upwards. Each movement had the gutter unit shuddering, lips sealed tightly as he focused on the corner of the roof. 'I'm comin', Ky. Just hang on,' he thought determinedly.
Step. Grab. Step. Grab.
He gulped down a mouthful of anxiety as he neared the top, fingers and toes aching from keeping so much pressure planted on each of them. He reached near enough to snag the edge of the roof, eyes widening at the lowered weight threshold of the gutters. 'Gotta jump it,' he mentally hissed, counting off and bracing himself before propelling his legs, letting the hand still hooked around the drain pipe lead him up before quickly releasing the hold and slamming both his forearms onto the shingles. He winced, the edge of the tube digging into his chest as he smashed back against the building. Mysterion groaned, hefting himself up enough to raise his left boot and awkwardly get it onto the roof, forcing his body into a roll onto the topside. He shook his head as he gulped, looking down the flat way and growling, compelling himself back onto his feet and quietly taking long strides towards his goal.
Couldn't make too much noise and run it. Couldn't let them know that he was here.
He briskly made way towards the lone lighted window, dropping down onto his hands and knees and cautiously leaning over, staring into the room upside down and wincing at the sudden brightness assaulting his eyes. He glanced to the floor, jaw dropping as the clear sight of Kyle struggling underneath Kashkov came into view. He gasped, looking at the sides of the egress window and snarling, sitting up and grabbing his locksport kit, hurriedly snaring out his angled, sharp half-diamond pick and moving back over the window. He took the pointed edge and dug it into the window sealant along the side of the top pane. Growling and cursing, knowing time was of the essence as he glanced to see Kyle thrashing and screaming, he finally managing to dig under the caulk of the first side, snaring it in his gloved fingers. Slowly, carefully he began tearing it up from the siding, needing to get it all off in one piece.
No time to get Stan and Butters. No fucking time. Kyle didn't have that luxury, and he wasn't about to give these fucks any more than they'd already taken from the redhead.
He gulped, eyes widening at Kyle breaking his head from Kashkov's hand and screaming loudly in fury, kicking at him overtop his hips and trying to roll away from thick hands tearing down his undone and bloodied shirt. "Oh my god," Mysterion whispered, looking down at the caulk still peeling, moving his other hand to begin digging under the remaining side of sealant.
"Fucking stop!" Kyle shouted from within, groaning as his head was tilted upwards and Kashkov snorted, eying purple and red splotches littering his neck and collarbone.
"Cape boy made mess of you,"he taunted, eyes trailing down his bare torso, hitting his waistband and raising his brow at more color just cresting over. He yanked down his pant line just enough for Kyle to gasp in panic, tears riding over his eyes as he squirmed. Kashkov stared at the hickeys painting his hipbone, letting out another short laugh. "Such mess,"he clicked his tongue, pressing Kyle's head back further against the cement until he cried out in pain. Kyle hiccupped in panic, skull feeling but a newton away from being completely crushed.
"Stop," he rasped, legs simmering in their kicking at the pressure making him woozy, feeling the man's free hand trailing over him curiously. His eyes slipped closed, body shuddering as the figure atop him moved up further, forcing his neck to arch higher. He choked out a disgusted, miserable cry as unfamiliar teeth dug into his throat, bound hands tingling as they clenched time and again beneath him in discomfort.
"Fuck!" Mysterion gasped, ripping off the second line of caulk and tossing it to the ground with his pick, reaching onto his waistband and grabbing Schroeder's ID, hurriedly wedging it between the pane and the wall, jiggling the card until it slipped through and sawing it down the inner seal. He could feel it giving way, tearing one fiber at a time as he cut his way through. He bit his lip, hearing Kyle's misery leaking more clearly through the now open air between them, lip curling furiously as he worked. 'One second, Ky. Just one. More. Second!'
Kyle let out another scream as the teeth repositioned onto his shoulder, groaning dizzily as a hand slammed back down over his mouth. He jerked around incessantly, tears trailing down over his busted nose and cheek onto the floor and staining the grey beneath him as he was jostled about. He opened his mouth wide as he could and clamped down onto the man's palm and index finger, shaking his head wildly, fighting through his woozy state to get to his last line of defense.
Kashkov removed himself from his clavicle and ripped his hand from his mouth, bringing it back and slamming against his broken nose. Kyle's head snapped to the other side, wheezing out agonized cries at cartilage shifting once more and angry hands grabbing around his arms. He screamed as he was lifted and bashed against the ground time and again, not reading the pure fury on the man's face in his disorientation. "You are makeeng this very 'ard on you, Ryzhevolosyy," he spat bitterly. "Lay steell and be good and you may not 'ave your teeth ripped out!"
Mysterion's eyes were alit with rage, feeling his card hitting the bottom of the window and ripping it back out. He twisted himself, hanging onto the roof by his forearms, placing his boot against the middle divider of the window. He clenched his teeth, free foot planting on the side of the building and pressing him back, prepping himself for a heavy hit to be had. He hissed, letting his weight fly forward and catching the middle of the window with his heavy shoe, feeling it giving way before the remaining sealant broke under the stress, the window flying open and crashing down into the room, shattering not three feet away from Burke.
The three occupants jumped and screamed at the sound, looking over as Mysterion rode his momentum through and dove through the space, landing in a roll atop the broken glass and sprinting towards the dumbfounded Russian. He screeched between his teeth furiously, diving forward and tackling the man off the injured redhead.
Kyle blinked before smiling gratefully at the mess of purple finally at his rescue, tears beading his eyes. "Thank God," he whimpered, moving himself to roll up onto his legs and slump exhaustedly.
"I'll fucking kill you!" Mysterion snarled, moving Kashkov and slamming his head against the wall as they rolled into it. He growled, smacking him against the aluminum time and again, Kashkov trying to find his bearings and grab at him.
Burke stared in shock before shaking his head, looking towards the door. "THE CAPE FAG IS HERE!" he screamed, throwing down the camera and looking between the two options before him. He narrowed his eyes at the redhead just trying to catch his breath, running towards him to get him up and away from the hero.
Mysterion heard the clatter of footsteps, turning and looking to see the brunette heading towards Kyle and he snarled. He threw Kashkov down, moving away before he could grab at him and sprinting to get to the redhead first. "Kyle, duck!" he shouted.
Kyle blinked before doing as told, the vigilante leaping up and over his lean form, riding the motion and rearing his fist back to smash mercilessly against his profile. Burke fell back with a shout and Mysterion growled, moving a step towards him before the door burst open. He bared his teeth, twisting to bend down and snag Kyle up onto his feet. He glanced at the window. Too high. Couldn't get them out of there without something…
He really didn't think this one through.
The hero opted to help the limping redhead towards the closest wall and get in front of him, caging him back in with his arms and tensing, ready to pounce at anyone daring enough to step near Kyle again. Kyle gulped, watching Cartman stroll into the room with his other lackeys following, a couple breaking off to help the fallen two onto their feet as they cupped their bleeding faces.
The brunette stared for a moment before breaking into a smirk. "Why, Mysterion. What a pleasant surprise," he cooed. "You know, poor Kahl's been waiting for you for hours now."
"I swear to God, Fatboy I'm going to tear you the fuck apart!" he bit.
"Uh huh," he quirked his brow, turning to look at Kashkov and Burke as they struggled to collect themselves. "Oh, Boys? Quick question: When you grabbed the Jew, did you get the security tape like I told you to?"
They paused, looking at each other and their eyes widened a bit. "Uh… nyet," Kashkov murmured, scrunching his face in pain.
"He kinda took us outside before we got 'im," Burke scoffed, wiping blood away from under his nose. "We had t' move quicker than we thought. We forgot in the mess."
Cartman rolled his eyes, "Great. Fuckin' great." He turned back to the vigilante and shrugged. "Doesn't make much of a difference, does it, Mysterion? Kahl's still pretty hurt, ain't he?" he grinned evilly.
Mysterion growled, backing up further against Kyle, shielding him in completely. The redhead took a long, shaking breath, leaning his head against Mysterion's back and letting himself dwell in momentary hope as his racing heart refused to slow in the slightest. "It's fucking over, Cartman," Mysterion spat.
He snorted, "Yeah, Kahl said that, too." He paused for a moment, staring at him carefully. "Wait. You don't have tracking resources…" he said slowly before brown eyes went up in realization. "Marsh is here," he concluded, snapping his head back to his crew. "Get the cars, we got a cop here. Find his car, you know what to do," he ordered. Three of them nodded and ran back out the door, the remaining lot of them hearing the telltale noise of the overhead beginning to raise. Mysterion gulped. A way out. He just had to figure out how he could get himself and a seriously injured Kyle out of here.
Cartman turned his attention back forward, shoving his hands in his pockets, stance far too lax for the present situation. "Now, you see, Mysterion… you're doing things out of order," he said calmly. "We weren't supposed to deal with you for another day at least. And we'd be finding you."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I've gotten pretty good at that lately," he narrowed his eyes. "The cops already know who you are, Cartman. Let me and Kyle out and maybe they'll lessen the charges."
He smirked knowingly. "No. Marsh knows who I am. No one else. I know that Kahl wouldn't let the force know what was happening. Only his super best friend," he mocked. "Didn't want hauled off to jail. Though… bet you're wishin' for that now, ain't ya, Kahl?"
Kyle's jaw trembled, "Fuck you, Fatass," he said wearily, head pressing further into Mysterion's back for some form of comfort.
"You're not my type. You're Kashkov's type," he said cruelly, looking over at the Russian and chuckling. "Told you he'd be a squirmy shit, didn't I?"
"I need to eenvest een fuckeeng rope," he muttered, rubbing his nose now indented with Kyle's teeth marks.
"I'll loan you some," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Need to keep him still considering he has such a long journey ahead of him," he looked to see Mysterion staring at him in silent confusion and grinned. "Oh? Did Kahl not tell you already?" He jerked his thumb to the noirette beside him. "Kashkov bought 'im. Six thousand even. Gonna take 'im allllll the way to Russia. It'll be like a vacation! Just as much travel and just as much fucking, if not more," he smirked.
Mysterion's jaw dropped before his face contorted furiously. "You're fucking sick," he snapped. "He's not fucking going anywhere and all you fucks are goin' straight to prison!"
He rolled his eyes dramatically, letting out a sigh. "You know, not nice to give Kahl false hope. I think you've done enough of that tonight. After all he's been sayin' nothin' but how you'll kill me for what we've done to him. You gonna start anytime soon or should I go heat up a burrito while we wait?" he asked coolly.
The vigilante reached back, softly grabbing Kyle's arm and squeezing it reassuringly. "I will kill you," he promised. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but-"
"I," he interrupted, face curling upwards once more, "am Eric Cartman. And he is Kyle Broflovski," he gestured to the redhead who backed up a bit from Mysterion's back, watching the glutton suspiciously from around his hero's arm. Cartman folded his hands behind his back, slowly pacing back and forth in front of them. "But just who are you?" he questioned. "Not Marsh since he's outside. Not Butters because god knows he can't even tie his own shoes right. But… just who else is so close to the Jew?" he asked with a sly grin. "Who that he knows is so willing to jump right into the middle of an active crime scene and be his dashing darling savior?" he mocked. "Hm? Mysterion? Any answers?"
He glared, "What are you getting at?" he asked lowly.
"Oh, nothing much," he shrugged. "After all, it'd be a shame to reveal such a heavy secret, wouldn't it? But… poor Kahl," he pouted. "He's been through so much tonight, Mysterion. So so much. And yet you, as much as you've always cared about him, couldn't save him from a damn bit of it, could you?"
Kyle straightened up, narrowing his eyes and feeling Mysterion's arms tensing around him. "What are you doing?" the redhead demanded.
"Hush, Kahl," he waved him off. "This is between me and the man who's wanted you for so long, but you were just too fucking oblivious to see it," he smirked. "And the man who wants so badly to save you, but hell, he can't even save himself. Doesn't even think he's good enough for you when he's not wearing fucking tights." He came to a stop directly in front of them, cracking his neck and chuckling, "Even though we all know no matter what he does, no matter how much that cape hides, he'll always be a poor, downtrodden piece of flea-infested shit…" his eyes flickered up, gleaming maliciously as they locked into Mysterion's horrified light blues. "Isn't that right… Kinny?"