Try to remember

Chapter 10: Postmortem commute.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Young Justice.

—?M?—?M?—

Blue eyes flashed open to take in the darkened room around him, and Kenny felt both the cold rush of air into his lungs, and the warm bedsheets around him. He awoke from death, and didn't bother to sit up. This time he simply sighed, glanced over to the window where grey early morning light was just peeking through the blinds, and closed his eyes. If there was one thing he needed right now, it was just five more minutes of blissful emptiness.

But sadly, that was not something he could have right now. Glumly rubbing his face with his hands, Kenny thought forward to the trip he'd have to make to restock on guns. A journey that would require a death to get there, then who knows how he'd get back. "Fucks sake." He murmured through his fingers, before smacking his face to wake himself up. Reaching a hand over to the bedside table, he hazily grasped for his phone. Knocking over his alarm clock in the search, Kenny eventually got a hold of it, and brought the mobile to his face to send a text message.

To: Ned Gerblansky.

Resupply needed. Same place, same time.

Hitting send, Kenny put his phone back down, and proceeded to drag himself out of bed. Whereupon he got ready for the last day of school before summer vacation hit.

Ten minutes later found Kenny lumbering down the stairs into the hall, schoolbag in hand. But when making his way to the kitchen, he was interrupted by his adoptive mother, who called out to him from where she was sat on the couch. "Kenny? Why are you dressed for school?"

That stopped him in his tracks. So he turned to regard her with a confused look on his face. Seeing this, Mrs. Dupuis started and continued. "Oh, you didn't know? The school had to close for the last day, some nasty business involving the gym being destroyed or something. Karen had already made plans with her friends, so I was talking to one of her friends mother's and she said-"

At that point Kenny had to interrupt what was sure to be a long and arduous tangent, to ask. "Wait. So, school is cancelled?"

"Yes." Was her simple answer.

Throwing his hands up in the air, Kenny let out a purely joyful shout of. "Wahoo!" And practically flew back upstairs, where he dived back into his room and flopped down on his bed once more. Within a few minutes he was back in the land of dreams, which was better than nothing for the overworked immortal.

Time ticked by, and when he awoke again, at half past three, Kenny could only lament his sleeping habits, as he got up and prepared for his trip back home. For he still thought of that quiet little mountain town as home, no matter how far away he was from it.

So he began the grim process of setting up his suicidal teleportation. Five minutes later saw the teenager with his head about to poke through a loop of rope that dangled from the metal bar in his closet. Kenny paused. His mind drawn to one little thought that crept up from time to time, it bothered him less frequently now he was older, but this one thought had been with him ever since he realised what his life was… 'This is fucking twisted.' And with that, he slipped his head through the noose, and kicked the chair out from under him.

—?M?—

Hands jammed firmly into the pockets of his bright orange parka, Kenny shivered as that familiar South Park chill rushed through the alleyway in which he stood. The rumble of an engine drew his attention to the street, where he saw a rusted, green pick-up truck pulling to a stop. Stepping out of said truck was the form of one of only two people in South Park who were willing to give away this much military hardware.

"Mmm, hey Kenny." The digitised voice of Ned Gerblansky siphoned itself through his electrolarynx, as the one armed Vietnam veteran walked up to meet him.

"Hey, Ned." Kenny greeted his long time gun supplier, nodding amicably at the older man.

"Mmm, how you been?" Ned started up conversationally.

Tilting his head from side to side, indecisively, Kenny answered. "Not too bad. You? How's business."

"Business as usual. I can't complain." Ned replied, before beckoning Kenny to follow him back to the truck.

Following, Kenny and Ned stopped by the back of the vehicle, where Ned reached over into the back of the truck and pulled a large backpack towards them. Subtly opening, Ned showed its contents. A metric shit tonne of handguns rested inside, all were of the same standard make but each one was vastly differing in quality. Some were rusted, some dirty, oily, painted, and so on. But that was good enough for Kenny, who smiled and hefted the bag onto his shoulders, saying. "Thanks, Ned."

Ned shrugged off Kenny's thanks, looking around only briefly before stating conspiratorially. "I've got something special this time, if you're interested."

"Might be. What is it." At Kenny's reply, Ned pulled forwards a rectangular crate, prising open the lid just enough to let light illuminate what was held within. When Kenny's eyes fell upon the contents, they went wide, two awestruck words involuntarily slipping from his mouth.

"Holy shit."

"I couldn't get you real bullets for this baby, too expensive, mmm. But rubber bullets should be fine, right?" Now Kenny didn't know too much about guns. He knew enough to get by, and he knew handguns inside out, them being his most frequently used weapon. But overall his firearm trivia was lacking. But he didn't need to be a gun nut to know that the long barrel and heavy frame of this weapon marked it as some kind of semi automatic machine gun.

"Yeah…" Kenny managed in reply, still taken aback by the ordinance. "That'll be just fine… And these?" His gaze shifted to another collection of oddities occupying the crate.

"Flashbangs and smoke grenades." Ned told him blankly.

"This is… Shit, Ned. Thank you, this is fucking awesome…" Then a reality hit him. "But, its too big to get back. I can't smuggle this on a train."

Wordlessly Ned clicked a few buttons on the new addition to his armoury, shifted a latch or two, and collapsed it down to the size of a laptop computer.

Kenny had to let out a little laugh at the novelty, and convenience of this undoubtedly deadly weapon. He'd fired quite a few guns before, some he was more familiar with than others, but this? It was far more than he should ever need, but who was he to turn down a deal like this? He might live in luxury now, but Kenny was still a poor kid at heart. Anyway, he was moving up in the world now, living in Gotham, cooperating with Batman and Robin. Sooner or later he'd have to face someone who required a little more firepower. Previously when he'd tangled with foes far more powerful than himself he'd rely on either the fallback of not being able to die, underhanded tactics, magic, or other people. But now? He needed another tool in his arsenal, and this gun looked to be an excellent start to that.

"Mmm no need to thank me, anything I can do to help the cause…" Ned said, as Kenny slipped the collapsed assault rifle and accompanying grenades into the backpack. "Just make sure you give 'em hell, soldier."

—?M?—

Standing on the overpass, Kenny wondered why he'd chosen to do this… Why not go the comfortable route back to Gotham? He was fairly sure he could smuggle all his guns and ammo through security. But then again, there was always that chance.

The earsplitting horn of a freight train broke him of his musings, and throwing his cares away, Kenny dropped off the ledge.

The rushing of wind and clattering of metal wheels took him by storm, and then the real impact came. He bounced and smacked against the roof of the freight train he'd dropped on top of, and flinging out both hands he tried grabbing for anything that could hold him. As his body tumbled down the length of the speeding locomotive, his hand caught the rim of a train cars roof, and wasting no time he shot his other hand out to join it.

With a wrenching sensation, and a sudden series of jolts, he held still atop the train. Looking up from where his face had planted into the corrugated metal roof. From under the rat-fur lined hood of his parka he could see the train stretching out before him. Channing a look behind, Kenny saw about four carriages between him and the end of the train. He was safe, and pretty much home free. "All aboard." He mumbled humorously, as the racing wind blasted his exposed face. To his immediate embarrassment, Kenny looked around, as if expecting someone to be there to hear his pun. But of course there was no one, he was alone, clinging to the top of a freight train that was heading straight for Gotham.

Silently thanking Ned for his strange contacts and suspiciously in-depth knowledge of rail bound transport, as well as his willingness to give away guns for free, Kenny crawled down into the space between cars. Nestling atop the uncomfortable coupling, Kenny reflected briefly, and not for the first time, that Ned Gerblansky probably knew what he was up to.

Back when Kenny had broached the subject with his old friend Stan, about perhaps securing him some guns, his long time childhood friend had instantly rejected it. But as luck would have it, Stan must've at least mentioned it to his uncle Jimbo, because as lady luck would have it, not two weeks later did Kenny receive a cryptic message from one Ned Gerblansky.

Stan had obviously grown out of the superhero gig, unlike Kenny who had something keeping him in that lifestyle. But Ned apparently had a spark in him that yearned for justice. It just so happened that it was Kenny's kind of justice, the kind of crime fighting that would better be suited to words such as "death-wish" "revenge" or "vigilantism". A desire to make a change, no matter the means or the cost. A conviction that was perhaps unsurprising in a veteran… Kenny turned these thoughts over in his head as the train carried him onwards. He'd never really spoken to Ned about his time in 'Nam, and Ned had never outright asked why Kenny needed these guns. But it was better that way. It was better that Stan stayed out of it as well. Better…

Kenny looked sidelong out at the passing scenery, snow smothered fields racing by in a flurry. But even at this speed, the journey was going to be long, and by the feel of it, very cold. So Kenny pulled his hood tighter, and settled in for the trip.

—?M?—

Late that night, a figure in a billowing cloak stood atop a skyline that was now becoming very familiar to him. Senses alert for the arrival of the Batman, Mysterion waited, casting his eyes across the intimidating, fog shrouded architectural landscape of Gotham City. Until eventually.

"Mysterion."

The voice, deep and foreboding, sounded from behind him, and turning around the already impatient teenager was greeted by the shadow of Batman, standing in the middle of the rooftop they had taken to occupying, black costume outlined against the midnight sky.

"Batman." Kenny greeted in return, before broaching the subject he assumed the Dark Knight had asked him here to discuss. "What do you want to know."

—?M?—?M?—

A/N: It's a short chapter, I admit, less than 2000 words. But I've been very busy, not to mention this chapter seemed to block me for some reason. I don't know whether that's because it's very much an in-between chapter or what, but either way I felt it was better to put it out and hopefully get over this bump in the road, than to put out a chapter where you could cut out half the words and be left with something that was no different. This chapter also had one or two rewrites/drafts, one of which included some of the South Park boys. But introducing them now with no fanfare or build up just didn't flow right. I will get to the boys (and girls) eventually, trust me, and when I do, you'll know. But for now I want to give some love to some of South Park's awesome side characters.

So yeah, sorry for the wait might as well be my mantra but I'll say it anyway. Sorry. Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read, and if you feel so inclined, follow, favourite and review. Oh and I'll answer some review questions next chapter; thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I love reading them.