Author's Note: Heyyo guys, long time no writing. I've been pretty busy doing things in the real world and finally, after like a year of writer's block, managed to scrape this up to be something semi decent. It's shorter than usual but… it says what needs to be said. I'm presuming the rest of the chapters will be longer as this is the tie in to the final chapters. This one is also really fast paced but... in this kind of situation everything would move fast. Also there isn't much of a need for details. So, yeah. Thank for reading, and also for your patience.

"-the suspect remains at large, and is presumed highly dangerous. If anyone is aware of Mysterion's whereabouts, report to 719-555-STOP. All tips will remain anonymous. In another news…"

Butters, Kenny, and Karen stared at the television screen with dropped jaws and wide eyes.

Mysterion was on the news. As a criminal.

Reports of the vigilante were heard all across Colorado now. Greeley, Denver, Grand Junction, Fairplay.

South Park.

Mysterion had committed arson. Assaulted two more people. Supernatural powers were caught on tape in a convenience store.

What Kenny didn't understand was this was all very public. The person was attacking in broad daylight, with witnesses around, and these were serious, yet petty, crimes. There didn't seem to be a point. If the cult was trying to take over the world they were doing a terrible job at it. In fact, Kenny proposed Professor Chaos would be doing a better job right about now.

Karen looked at her brother and bit her lip nervously.

Butters turned off the television and sighed heavily.

"I'm fucked," Kenny whispered. "I don't… I don't get it. Why are they using Mysterion to do this shit?" Butters grimaced and wriggled his bag onto his back. He grabbed his keys and nodded to the door. Karen and Kenny both followed suit. "Why are they doing this, like. Shouldn't they be trying to achieve world domination or something at this point?"

"Maybe," Karen began, hopping into the backseat of Butters' car, "maybe they're trying to ruin Mysterion's name. And since the cops know who Mysterion is..."

"They're trying to ruin me." Karen nodded. "Well, fuck."

"It'll be fine" Butters pressed, "the goths can help us. Firkle is friends with Karen, and… they probably can get us inside information. We can maybe figure this out and not even worry about it. No one is going to think it was you. They know you better than that. Well, around here they do, anyway."

But right now they all knew what was happening was far more serious than that. They couldn't depend on finicky, moody and nihilistic kids to get them what they wanted. They needed far more than some dirt on the cult. What they needed was a way to clear Kenny's name. Because it would be sooner than later for the police to arrive.

Could he go to school and carry on as normal? What if the police came and took him out of class? Was he really going to get arrested for this? Just how stupid could the law enforcement be; could he try to deny any ties to the vigilante?

"I guess we just… go to school?" Butter said, eying Kenny warily. He nodded and, with a heavy sigh, trailed behind his sister and Butters to the car.

The ride to school was silent. No one knew what to say. Silence fell over them and although it was uncomfortable, no one could break it. No one dared to speak, or even sigh. Perhaps it was the silence keeping them together.

Perhaps that was the only thing they had.

When they arrived at school, Kenny instantly wanted to hide. It was impossible to ignore the stares sent toward him; he could feel their eyes on him, calculating, gawking. As if he was a monster… or would blow everything up a matter of a few seconds. Did he have that power? Was he a monster?

He looked at his hands; he had flesh and five fingers. But his DNA was riddled with a curse. It wasn't human.

He clenched his fists and rested his head against his locker. Butters ran a hand over his back and squeezed his side reassuringly.

"Will you be okay?" the older boy asked. Kenny nodded stiffly and smiled the best he could as his boyfriend walked to class.

Karen was nowhere in sight.

Butters was barely holding on.

Stan was absent again.

Kyle was still in the hospital.

Kenny felt his eyes burn. He was alone, truly alone, for the first time in a long time. Not that he hadn't been left on his own, that had happened more often than not, but for the first time he felt it. That desolation, the distance between him and those that he loved. Because he was the reason they were falling apart. He was the one at fault. And what could he do?

He didn't understand… anything. Nothing made sense anymore; not what was happening, the potential reasons as to why it was, who he was. He felt truly cursed. Blacklisted. Outcasted.

He didn't know how to fix any of this. Everything was crumbling before him. His entire life was being ruined; he was mostly afraid for his friends and his siblings, rather than himself. And there was only so much one person could do. And he didn't even know what that was. He didn't know where to start.

But someone did.

Kenny jumped as he felt a small hand grab his parka sleeve. He stared with wide eyes at Firkle, who wore no emotion on his face. He glanced down the hall and Kenny followed him. What else could he do?

"Do you know-?"

"Nog, c-athg goka ee, hupadgh Hastur, ya sll'ha ph'phlegeth, shagg, shugg, shogg. Y'tharanak ee. Ng-r'luh, nnn-orr'e." Come, we'll give you answers, Hastur's vessel. We'll share it with you in the realm of information, the realm of dreams, and earth, and darkness. I promise to give you answers. I'll keep it secret, I'll protect your soul.

Firkle whispered, Kenny was entranced, amazed. For though he spoke R'lyehian, he understood what he said. It was a way they could communicate without those surrounding them hearing. Except those in the cult, perhaps. But Kenny doubted Firkle would be stupid enough to speak the language in a place where they could be.

And a part of him was afraid to trust Firkle and the goths. But Firkle was Karen's friend; he wouldn't jeopardize their relationship, at least Kenny wouldn't think so. Though sadistic, Firkle proved his loyalty to his friends time and time again, and to causes he firmly believed in.

Kenny found himself in the boiler room below the school. Michael, Henrietta, and Pete were sitting on the floor. Michael had a book in front of him, Henrietta a vial from the chemistry lab, full of some liquid that looked like sludge and congealed blood all at the same time. Pete looked bored.

"There you are," Pete finally said. Firkle rolled his eyes and pushed Kenny forward. He sat down and, very slowly, Michael shook his head. The blonde moved to stand up, another shake of the head. So he scooted into the middle. Firkle sat where Kenny had been; Michael gave a single nod.

"What am I doing here?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Henrietta asked. "Your sister and Butters have begged Firkle to the point of desperation to help you. We didn't really understand why we'd want to help but… Cthulhu kind of fucked us over. And we'd like to see them pay."

"We've seen your powers, we've done our research. We know that you're the vessel of Hastur- the elder god of the air. We heard the cult talking of Hastur, and their plans to kill him… at whatever cost to the vessel. They screwed up once, a blue moon, a miscalculation. And they aren't looking to screw up again."

"That's what we're here for," Pete took over for Michael, who took a drag from his cigarette. "We're going to give you the answers you've been looking for. About everything; who you are, what's inside of you, what you're capable of, and your fate. Are you prepared for this?"

Kenny nodded; it wouldn't be the scariest thing he had ever heard. This wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to him. He wanted answers. He wanted to finally know who he was. After all these years… he could understand himself, his curse. He could have control of it.

"You are the vessel for the god of air, the god of light, and preservation. Hastur, as you know, is Cthulhu's half-brother and enemy; they have a rivalry for millennia. Now that Cthulhu has died, Cthylla, his sister and lover… wants revenge."

"The cult has influence with the oil fracking industry. They've been working up in Canada and Montana, trying to break ground… you know that shit with BP back when we were ten? It wasn't accident." Michael further explained. Firkle's eyes lingered on the group, and settled on Kenny; he was trying to register what Kenny was thinking.

To say Kenny was suspicious of him was an understatement. And although he was Karen's friend, although he led him to find his answers after so many damn years of researching, he was a notorious traitor. He only looked out for himself; he wasn't afraid to get blood on his hands… friendship didn't even matter to him, so long as he got his way.

"Through the fracking," Henrietta continued, "they unearthed Cthylla from R'lyeh. There is another portal opened, and although the beings are contained for now… who's to say when they'll take over. All hell could break loose any moment."

"And the only way to stop it is for Hastur to kill her." Kenny thought for a moment, then looked up and nodded.

"So what you're saying is I'm the only person who can kill the giant slug?"

"Yes… but…" Firkle trailed off, then wrapped his arms around himself. Kenny furrowed his eyebrows.

"But… what?"

"You'll die too."

"So…?" Firkle shook his head.

"It'll be the last time."

Kenny's heart plummeted to his stomach; he felt sick. His skin crawled, and suddenly the room felt a lot smaller than before.

This was something he had hoped for ever since he could remember his curse; an end. An antidote, a way for his suffering to be over. But now that there was an answer, that he would die and not come back… when he had so much to live for; Butters, Karen… his friends…

How could he bring himself to say goodbye? How could he do this to them?

Henrietta swirled the contents of the vial in her hands.

"This will be what you drink when, and only when, you are ready to finally take on Cthylla. It's a summoning potion. She has an immediate connection to you; upon drinking this, Hastur will be awakened and she'll be able to find his exact location."

"At what point do I die?"

"When Hastur is awakened." Kenny nodded and grimaced.

"How long do you think…?" He asked. Pete and Michael looked to Firkle.

"Two months, at the most."

"Fuck." Kenny cursed, running his hands through his hair.

Two months. A lot could happen, and yet it was barely any time at all. What would he have to do in the meantime?

"You need to read this," Michael said, offering a leather-bound book with ancient, etched writing, much like runes, on the cover. "It might not make any sense to you, you might not be able to register any of the words or what you're reading…"

"But Hastur will. This will prepare him for what's to come. These are spells, enchantments to unlock his powers. If you can understand it… then great," Henrietta said, "then you may be able to practice them."

"What exactly are his powers?" Kenny asked.

"Hastur represents the air element. Most of his powers have to do with force and wind, manipulating the air around him to become elements of destruction; storms, tornadoes, hurricane. He also has the ability to create fire, and use that combined with wind."

"You won't be here for the fight. You won't witness what will happen, you'll be on your next journey."

"Next journ-"

"Kenny McCormick, please report to the office, Kenny McCormick."

Michael handed Kenny the book, and Henrietta shook her head.

"We'll call for you. You know enough know."

And that was that.

And that was ironic, because Kenny was more confused than ever.

A part of him knew what was coming as he made his way to the office. A part of him was expecting anything and everything wrong to happen as he opened the doors. And he had expected right.

"Kenny McCormick, please go to Principal Withers' office," no friendly hello from the secretary.

As he entered the office, the principal, superintendent, and Sarah were all standing, silent, in front of two police officers. Kenny shook his head.

He hadn't expected this.

"W-what's going on?"

He should have seen it coming.

"Mr. McCormick, you are under arrest for vigilantism and first degree assaulted, robbery, and vandalism."

"But I-"

"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law."

"S-Sarah…" he turned to his counselor, who kept her eyes low.

"Mr. McCormick, I'm sorry to have to do this…" the superintendent began. Kenny shook his head. No, no, he only had two months left.

"No… come on, I didn't…" he protested as he was handcuffed. He didn't fight the police; he knew better than that.

"You are hereby expelled from Park County High School. If you step two hundred feet near the school, we will be forced to report you to the police." Sarah shook her head and left the room without a word.

He hadn't done this. It wasn't his fault… he wasn't the one did the attacks. This wasn't fair.

This was Cthylla's doing. This was the cult.

They were taking everything away from him… so he'd have nothing to lose. They took his name, everything he had worked for. Now he'd be locked away… what if Cthylla came then? He didn't have any idea what to do. What if the police were in on it?

Who could he trust?

"It's about time, all you McCormicks end up in our cells." Kenny laughed darkly but said nothing. He knew to bite his tongue. He had learned what not to do from watching his parents get arrested.

He was frisked and de-loused, and put in holding. He was questioned and prodded, yet he couldn't say anything.

He couldn't afford a lawyer, and there was no way Gerald Broflovski would want to take this case. He was a small claims attorney, not a defense attorney. Besides, he was too invested in Kyle's health at the moment.

He had one phone call he could make. The Broflovskis were out of the question, as were the Marshes. Liane Cartman wouldn't do anything for him. His brother probably couldn't afford it; neither could his father, for that matter.

There was no way he could involve Butters in this. In fact, he should probably get the hell away from him so he wouldn't be hurt. Maybe he should do that with everyone. Maybe he should just stay in jail, take the fall, and wait for Cthylla to find him.

Kenny sighed; that wouldn't work. He wasn't the kind of person to sit back and let everything fall to shit. Especially when he was to blame.

So he picked up the phone, pressed '9' to dial out, and called the only person he could think would be able to help him.

"Hello?"

Kenny sighed with relief and bit his lip.

"Hey, Craig… it's Kenny. I… I fucked up and I wouldn't ask you but… I, fuck. Could you… could you possibly bail me out of jail?"

The droning of the dialtone was his reply.

Kenny sighed heavily and raked a hand through his hair.