Eric Cartman sat at his desk, the Death Note open in front of him. Ryuk hovered nearby, his glowing eyes fixed on the boy as he deliberated over his next move. Cartman tapped his pen against the notebook, his expression unusually serious. He had a plan—one that would force Lyle Anderson to reveal himself.
"This detective thinks he's so clever," Cartman muttered, the edge of frustration in his voice. "But I'm smarter. I'll make him come to me."
Ryuk tilted his head, his jagged grin widening. "You've got something up your sleeve, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Cartman said, his confidence returning. "If this guy wants to play games, I'll set the board. All I need is the right bait."
Cartman flipped to a fresh page in the Death Note and began writing. The name he chose wasn't random—it was calculated. He needed someone whose death would force Lyle to take action, someone who was connected to both him and the investigation.
The name he wrote sent a chill down even his own spine: Kyle Broflovski's mother, Sheila Broflovski—dies of a heart attack while walking home from the grocery store.
Cartman finished the entry with a flourish, his pen pressing hard against the page. He knew killing Sheila Broflovski would send shockwaves through the town, especially for Kyle. More importantly, it would force Lyle to escalate his investigation. If Kyle's family was targeted, Lyle wouldn't have a choice but to come out of hiding.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Broflovski," Cartman muttered, closing the notebook with a satisfied smirk. "You were a fat bitch, anyways."
That evening, Sheila Broflovski was walking home with a bag of groceries in her arms. She hummed softly to herself, her thoughts preoccupied with dinner plans. The streets of South Park were quiet, the early evening light casting long shadows across the ground.
She didn't notice the faint tightness in her chest until it was too late.
Sheila stumbled, clutching at her heart as pain radiated through her chest. The grocery bag slipped from her hands, its contents spilling onto the sidewalk. Her breathing became shallow, her vision blurring as she collapsed onto the ground.
A neighbor saw her fall and ran over, shouting for help, but by the time they reached her, Sheila Broflovski was gone.
The next morning, the school was buzzing with the news of Sheila's death. Cartman couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction as he watched the chaos unfold. Kyle wasn't at school—unsurprisingly—and neither were Stan and Kenny. They were likely with Lyle, trying to piece together what had happened.
"Looks like your bait worked," Ryuk said, hovering near Cartman's shoulder. "The detective won't be able to ignore this."
Cartman grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Of course it worked. I told you, Ryuk, I'm a genius. Lyle's gonna have no choice but to make a move now."
In his motel room, Lyle Anderson stared at the news report on his laptop. Sheila Broflovski's death had hit him like a punch to the gut. He had been careful to keep the boys safe, but now it was clear the killer had escalated. This wasn't just about random deaths anymore—it was personal.
"They're targeting people close to the investigation," Lyle muttered, his mind racing. "They know Kyle's involved. This is a warning."
Stan, Kyle, and Kenny sat nearby, their faces pale and grim. Kyle's eyes were bloodshot, his hands trembling as he tried to hold himself together.
"This is my fault," Kyle said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They killed my mom because of me!"
"No," Lyle said firmly, his voice cutting through Kyle's despair. "This isn't your fault. Whoever's doing this is trying to scare us, to make us stop. But we can't let them win."
Stan clenched his fists, his face a mask of anger. "Then what do we do? How do we stop them?"
Lyle stood, his expression cold and determined. "We set a trap."
That evening, Lyle instructed the boys to spread the word at school: there would be a town hall meeting at the community center the next night to discuss the string of deaths. It was a calculated risk, but Lyle was banking on the killer's arrogance. Whoever was behind this wouldn't be able to resist showing up, if only to gloat over their handiwork.
"We make them think we're desperate," Lyle explained. "They'll want to be there to watch the chaos unfold. And when they show up, we'll be watching."
Kyle nodded, his jaw set. "We'll find them. And when we do, they're going to pay."
Cartman sat in his room, listening to the chatter on social media about the upcoming town hall meeting. He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face.
"They're walking right into it, Ryuk," he said. "They think they're setting a trap, but I'm the one pulling the strings."
Ryuk chuckled, his glowing eyes fixed on Cartman. "Careful, Eric. Pride comes before the fall."
Cartman waved him off. "Pfft. I've got this under control. Lyle thinks he's clever, but he's nothing compared to me."
He opened the Death Note and tapped his pen against the page, considering his next move. He wouldn't strike at the meeting—not yet. First, he'd let them squirm. Let them feel the weight of their failure. And when the time was right, he'd eliminate Lyle once and for all.
"This is my game, Ryuk," Cartman said, his voice low and confident. "And I never lose."
As the town hall meeting loomed, the pieces were falling into place. Cartman had laid his trap, but Lyle was no ordinary opponent. The battle of wits was about to reach its boiling point—and neither side would back down.