SP AW- TIMESKIP EXTRA
MYSTERION AND INKJET (PT 1) ************************** Link to Masterlist/Previous Chapters => HERE Timeskip Oneshots : - Kyle - Kenny - Stan - Cartman - Clyde Extra : - Mysterion and Inkjet (Pt1) <- (You Are Here) - Mysterion and Inkjet (Pt 2) **************************
At first glance, South Park still looked like the same place Kenny McCormick had grown up in, where judgment was easy, where kids were shouting obscenities on street corners and parents were chainsmoking through loud arguments in dim porchlights.
But throughout the years, he’d felt the shadows growing more threatening. The silence of the night weighed on him more with every night that passed . The boy from the bad part of town past the train tracks- the one who used to die and come back like some twisted joke of the universe, was still serving justice as Mysterion at night. Mysterion. It wasn’t just a name, it was a curse. One he still bore with a quiet, bitter pride.
The wind was biting at the edges of his cape, tattered and stitched in places he no longer remembered mending. His vigilante outfit had gone through various transitions across the years. His initial one was good, but it felt childish to him today. So he switched to something darker, more serious. Suited to his eternal struggles and rougher, more adult side of him.
That night, he was crouched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop above Main Street, his eyes narrowed beneath his dark hood. His breath was fogging briefly in the cold with each breath he took, watching the neon from Raisins down the street buzz in erratic spurts. No one even fixed things like that anymore.
Below him, the town dozed in its usual, uneasy peace. He didn't blink. He hadn’t in some time.
He was warily scanning over the more sketchy parts of town. The alleyways, the broken fence behind Skeeter’s bar, the dumpster, where a couple out-of-towners had curiously disappeared last week. No one else knew about it, but he’d seen it. He always did. He’d sworn he would get to the bottom of this soon.
South Park didn’t know it still had a guardian. It didn’t need to. He wasn’t in it for the glory- that had always been more of Cartman’s thing. He never needed people to clap for him. Hell, most people forgot what he was doing the moment they’d turn away and mind their own business. Maybe that was just how it was meant to be. His immortality came with both sacrifice and solitude. Eternally watching and waiting.
No one knew he was still wearing the mask after a long decade. Not Kyle. Not Stan. Not Cartman. Not even (Y/N).
He exhaled sharply at the thought, annoyed by how instinctively her name came up in his mind. She was the only person who ever made him forget, even for a second, how cold it felt to be stuck in the limbo between life and death..
The thing was, he still saw her every now and then. At least as his normal, daytime self. They hung out. Ate shitty diner fries. Sat on her porch with cheap cans of beer and the kind of immature banter that felt more like home than anywhere he’d ever lived. She always knew when something was off with him, how to press without being obvious or when to just let him sit in silence. Knew when he was hiding his never ending sorrow beneath the cover of absurd jokes.
They were close. Closer than most.
But she didn’t know this part of him. She couldn’t. She had no idea he was still doing this and he intended to keep it that way.
Mysterion was a secret carved out of pain, rebirths, and nights where the only sounds were the buzz of streetlamps and the crunch of boots on snow. He didn’t want to taint her with it. She’d already carried enough just by existing in South Park.
He thought about her laugh, her real, genuine one, the one that cracked through sarcasm and sharp comebacks like a lighter in the dark. He thought about the way she used to draw his persona back in elementary school, how she always gave Mosquito way too many abs and him, Mysterion- eyes that looked often more sad than scary.
He hated how well she saw him, even back then. But he knew just how they'd survived more together than anyone else even knew. Quiet battles. Broken homes. Empty wallets. A winter where they lived off of only mac and cheese and ramen noodles. That summer she’d cried after her dad left and he just sat beside her until the sun came up. She was the only one who didn’t flinch at the worst parts of him. She’d seen him sick, seen him die, seen him laugh through it. She knew the Kenny version, what was left of him during the day. The bruised, stubborn kid who grew up faster than he should have, who joked around when things got too heavy and who always pulled her in with reckless affection and genuine loyalty.
But this? She didn’t know. He’d never let her. He pushed the thought of her back, deep deep within. He couldn’t afford distractions while he was patrolling. He had to sternly remind himself that people’s lives were on the line.
The town below murmured with a late-night hush. A siren somewhere far off. A door slamming. Someone yelling into a public phone outside a bar.
As if fate had suddenly called out to him, a moving shadow down below had caught his eye.
A single figure, walking down the sidewalk near Stark’s Pond. Hood up. Earbuds in. The streetlights around her being just enough light for him to make out the familiar weight of her steps. Confident, but a little tired. Like someone who didn’t sleep enough, but never complained about it either.
Mysterion’s chest tightened. But he didn’t budge.
She was probably heading home from a late shift. Or maybe she’d been out with the boys. Kenny knew he hadn’t made enough time for her as of late. The realization stung him harder than he wanted. It curled low in his stomach, the same way it did every time he forgot her messages or brushed her off with a lazy “Been busy, sorry” apology. With how bad things were at home, he’d been more into playing vigilante at night and beating up bad guys than spending time with the people that mattered.
Still, she never pushed. Never made him feel bad about it. Just waited.
Mysterion didn’t move. He stayed crouched, his eyes locked on her form. She didn’t look up. Didn’t sense him. Just kept walking, wrapped in music and her own thoughts, fading down the street like a song he half-remembered.
He could’ve called out. He could’ve pulled off the mask, dropped down beside her, and said something stupid like he always did as Kenny. Something to make her laugh.
But he didn’t. Because Mysterion didn’t get to have that.
Not tonight. Not ever.
So he watched. Guarded. Protected her from shadows she didn’t know were there. Just like he always did.
And when she disappeared around the corner, he finally stood, silent as a grave, as his cloak rippled behind him in the wind.
********
(Y/N) told herself he was probably fine. It was easier that way. Living in denial.
She started biting her nails again. Not out of anxiety, really. Not in that chewed-down, frantic way that she did in middle school and that her friends had picked on her for. Just a habit picked back up when her mind wandered too far or sat too still. Like tonight.
Her stomach was twisting with a strange kind of ache, but it was neither anger nor sorrow. It was something worse. Something quieter.
It felt like being forgotten.
She tugged her jacket tighter around herself as she turned onto the quieter part of the Main Street. South Park always felt colder at night. The kind of cold that bit through even the thickest jacket and made the edges of your thoughts feel sharper.
She wasn’t afraid, though. Never had been. She’d grown up here, after all. The dark streets were familiar at this point, neither scary nor sinister. Her boots clicked along the sidewalk with an even rhythm, one of her earbuds dangling loose from her hoodie pocket- the other still playing a nostalgic, catchy tune in her ear.
She glanced at her phone again, biting her lips. No new messages. Still.
It had been nearly two weeks since she and Kenny had properly talked. Not just the casual ‘’hey’’, or stupid meme, or vague reply to something in the group chat. But truly talked. Like they used to, like they always had.
Two weeks wasn’t long, she’d thought. He’d disappeared for a few days before. He had always been the kind of guy who could just vanish every once in a while, especially when things got complicated with his family. But this time felt different. She didn’t know how exactly. It just was.
Like he’d ghosted her, and wouldn’t elaborate as to why.
He was most likely fine. Probably just in his room. Maybe he just needed a break from life in general. Maybe she was overthinking it.
But the silence stung in a way she hadn’t expected.
*****
The first time she noticed it, it was on a Thursday night.
She was coming back from the movie theater. Stan had invited everyone out to see a new release and of course Cartman had gone just to complain about how the effects were “lame garbage.” She’d laughed the whole time at how seriously they took their debates over popcorn and cheap-budget films. But Kenny hadn’t shown that time. Yet again.
She’d felt it right when she’d been slowly drifting apart from the group and had started walking home on her own.
It wasn’t anything obvious. Just a feeling, like the air had shifted. Or like someone had stepped into her personal space, just slightly behind her. But whenever she’d glance back, the streets were always empty.
The back of her neck was prickling. She kept walking and shook it off at first, believing it had probably been nothing.
It occurred again a few nights later, after she stopped at the corner store to grab some snacks. It was late and the town was quiet, in the way it always was past ten o’ clock. She cut through the short route near Stark’s Pond, like she’d done a thousand times before.
There, she felt it. That strange presence. Aware. Watching.
Turning back and heading downtown, she paused beneath a flickering streetlight and stared out across the rooftops. Over the alleys. But there was nothing, once again. Just the faint hum of the power lines and a light breeze whistling down from the mountains.
Her fingers curled tightly around the handle of her bag.
Something about this was starting to make her feel uneasy.
What bothered her most wasn’t the feeling itself. It was that it made her think of him. Kenny.
It was the idea that someone might be out there, keeping an eye on her. Someone silent and unseen, following at a distance. Maybe it was just a bad prank he’d been pulling on her all along. But still, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Maybe it was just her projecting. Maybe it was just that she missed him. The playful banter. The late-night drive-thru runs.The way they’d talk about everything and nothing until 3AM like nothing else in the world mattered.
They hadn’t fought. Nothing bad had happened.
He just stopped. She didn’t know why.
She’d brushed it off the first few times. She’d even joked to Stan that maybe the ghost of Clyde’s dating history was following her home after the movies, trying her best to shake it off and live in denial that someone had been stalking her.
******
From the roof above the alleyway, Mysterion watched her pause beneath the streetlight. He saw her glance back for the third time that night, that same little furrow in her brow.
She was starting to notice. He needed to be more careful.
So he stayed low, hidden.
She was okay. Just walking home, nothing too out of the ordinary. Still, he watched until she turned the corner and disappeared from view, the light of her phone that she’d been clutching in her hand briefly illuminating her face in the dark. But something was amiss.
She was walking faster than usual that night. Her hood was pulled up higher, her arms tighter at her sides. She'd been fidgeting more lately. He noticed that.
He noticed everything. How her eyes scanned the street before she crossed it. How she looked over her shoulder, twice, like she was aware she wasn’t alone, even if she had no way to prove it.
He wanted to say something. He wanted to drop down and land just far enough ahead of her not to scare her, but just close enough to walk beside her. But he didn’t. He stayed still on the roof, one knee down on the ledge and cloaked in the shadows, quiet as ever.
She didn’t know he was still there. Didn’t know he never left.
That was the part that stung worst of all.
****
Mysterion was slipping. He knew it.
He was off his game. He could feel it in his jaw every time a hit landed. In his bruised ribs from a fight he should’ve avoided. In the way he’d hesitated the other night, when a guy pulled a knife in the alley behind the liquor store.
He never let punches land. He never missed any steps or made noise to attract any attention. Most importantly, he never got distracted.
Yet, he was slipping and he knew exactly why.
It started with little things.
Checking side streets she might take. Perching on rooftops he didn’t normally use just for a better view of the sidewalk by her house. He tried to convince himself it was just a coincidence. That he was watching everyone, not just her.
That night, he got decked across the cheek, being too busy scanning the sidewalk past the alley watching for a familiar silhouette under the flickering lights. He hadn’t seen the second guy coming. He’d paid for it with blood pooling in his mouth and a dark bruise forming beneath his hood.
That- the whole thing with her, it was becoming a liability. She had a way of getting inside his head, even without meaning to. He was constantly thinking about her concerned texts, still unopened in his other life. Despite the distance, she meant more to him than he had words for. More than he had any right for. He had a need to protect her, as both Kenny and Mysterion.
Now it was costing him. It was her fault. No- his fault. For letting her haunt his thoughts, even when she wasn’t anywhere near him.
He hated it. He hated that he’d lingered too long on the rooftops watching her. That he’d spent more time memorizing the rhythm of her footsteps than tracking real threats. That when he’d peek over, he saw the way she looked over her shoulder and didn’t see him.
But he wasn’t Kenny right now. He was Mysterion. And Mysterion didn’t get soft. He couldn’t afford to.
So he spat blood to the pavement, straightened his shoulders, and pulled himself back up onto the ledge, breathing sharply through his nose. He needed to refocus. Be better. Until he saw her again. Same time. Same place. Like clockwork. (Y/N) was walking with her hands in her coat pockets, hood up against the cold, the sound of her boots steady and sharp against the sidewalk. Her expression was unreadable under the dim yellow streetlight. She used to always walk like she didn’t care who might be out there. But it was different this time. She looked tense, more than usual.
Her right hand stayed deep in her coat pocket. He narrowed his eyes. Pepper spray? Maybe? Good, she was smart. She’d always been smarter than him. He used to tell her that all the time, half-sincere, half-mocking. She’d roll her eyes and throw something at him in response. But tonight, there was no mockery. No messing around. Just dread.
Something was off.
The can of pepper spray in her pocket was clutched tight, fingers curled around it like a lifeline. The walk didn’t feel the same anymore. Because this time, the shadow watching her wasn’t just the same quiet, strange feeling she’d grown used to. She knew something felt suspicious. It’d felt wrong the last couple times she had been strolling around town late at night.
Her fears ended up being confirmed when she started hearing footsteps not far from her. It wasn’t Kenny. She knew how Kenny walked. Knew the lazy rhythm of his boots and the way he’d always shuffle or slightly drag his feet if he was tired. This one moved differently. Intentionally.
She kept walking, resisting the urge to look behind her. Her chest felt tight, her intuition shouting at her louder than her music.
******
Mysterion’s body ached from the earlier fight, bruises dull beneath the layers of his costume, but his eyes were clear now. Behind her, he finally spotted it. Someone was lurking. Just far enough back to be out of focus, there was a hooded figure. Tall. Must be a man. Mid-thirties. Unfamiliar. Barely keeping to the edge of the street behind her. He had no visible weapon, not that he could see. But the way he moved, silent, deliberate, set off alarms in Mysterion’s brain instantly.
That was when he’d pieced it together. This wasn’t random. The people who’d disappeared the week before hadn’t run away. They were taken. He had a feeling this wasn’t one guy. It never was. It was planned. Orchestrated.
*****
As she turned the corner toward her street, the man quickened his pace.
So did Mysterion.
His breath hitched, pain rippling down his side with every leap between rooftops. He was fast, but the angle was bad and he didn’t have a clean drop to intercept without being seen. He knew he could do it. He could take that guy out right now. But it would mean landing right in front of her. No shadows. No cover.
She’d see him and she’d know. He hesitated.
You can’t risk it. She’ll ask questions. She’ll know it’s you.
But then, the stalker broke into a jog. She heard it and turned her head around, just slightly.
Her eyes widened in fear.
And Mysterion didn’t hesitate a second longer.
(Y/N) ran, her boots pounding harder against the pavement.
The second she heard footsteps break into a full chase behind her, her instincts kicked in. She bolted across the street, heart hammering so loud it drowned out the music still echoing in her ears. Her hand was already wrapped around the canister in her pocket, her other gripping her phone like it was going to save her.
One click. Aim high. Don’t hesitate.
She’d practiced. Once. In her bedroom. It had felt dumb at the time. Not now. Not when her pulse was roaring in her ears and her spine itched like she had a laser sight on her back. Her mind spun through escape plans, backup options, whether or not to scream. That’s when she heard it.
‘’THWACK!’’
A sound, deep and solid, like bone meeting bone. Like a punch that landed so clean it stopped the world. She skidded to a stop and tried catching her breath. Everything felt still. Too still.
She gripped the can tighter in her fist, ready to spin and spray, ready to scream. But she couldn’t. Her legs were paralyzed. Her body was locked in place, trembling just slightly. Like if she’d turned around and looked, it would make it all real. Like something worse than she’d expected was waiting to eat her whole.
But she willed herself to, anyway. Slowly, heart hammering in her chest, she spun on her heels.
Two shadows were clashing in the weak orange wash of the streetlight behind her. Not just one stranger anymore, two.
The first one, a middle-aged man, had stumbled into a wall, trying to recover from a punch that clearly broke something in his jaw. He looked dazed, hurt. But still threatening.
The second ? She didn’t recognize him.
His back was facing her, body moving like smoke, fluid and focused. His outfit was dark, adorned by a long cape fluttering behind him. The faint purple edge of it caught the light for just a brief moment.
(Y/N) remained still, helpless. Staring.
The man got hit again. It was fast, brutal, knocking the wind out of him with a sharp kick to the ribs. The stranger dropped to the ground like a rag doll, trying to crawl backward. But the caped figure stepped over him, planted a solid foot on his chest and leaned down. He was moving like someone who’d done this before. Like someone who knew exactly how to hurt. The voice that came next was low. Ragged and cold.
“You picked the wrong person to stalk tonight. If I catch you following anyone again, you won’t get the chance to crawl and beg.”
The man choked out something between a cough and a plea. The cloaked figure pressed his foot down harder, like a threat, then let go. The man fled without a word, disappearing down the alley like a wounded animal, wheezing and limping into the dark.
(Y/N) stood there, still clutching the pepper spray. Still trembling.
The silence returned, but it wasn’t comforting. It pressed in on her now. The cloaked shadow turned to face her. Slowly, cautiously, like he’d known what this meant.
His mask had changed. His hood, stripped from the initial question mark, was lower now, hiding more of his face than it used to. But his eyes were still visible, just barely. In that split second, as the streetlight caught just enough of his expression, she saw it.
Behind her shock, behind the leftover adrenaline, something clicked. That voice. That stance. That aura of quiet, exhausted pain. It wasn’t just Mysterion. It was Kenny.
She didn’t say a word. She just stared at the boy in front of her with a thousand things left unsaid.
He shifted, visibly tense. Ready to bolt. Every part of him shouting at him to disappear before she’d speak or she’d ask questions. Before she tore down what little distance he’d tried so hard to keep.
He took one step back. But her hand reached out, soft and hesitant, catching his sleeve. Just the edge of it, barely a grip at all. But it was enough to stop him. Her fingers were shaking against the fabric.
When he finally met her gaze, he saw it in her eyes. Neither anger nor disappointment. Just a quiet, broken sadness.
“...It’s you.”
Was all she said. It gutted him. He didn’t move when she gripped his sleeve. He knew he should have. He should have vanished into the night the second that man hit the ground, just being another blur in the corner of her memory, like Mysterion had always been to anybody. That was how he kept people safe, by staying gone. By being the monster in the shadows no one ever saw coming. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, neither of them daring to speak first. The freezing wind tugged at both the edges of his cape and her coat, a quiet whistle moving through the empty street.
She looked stunned. Shaken. Not just from the fight. Not just from the near abduction. But from him. From the truth. From the raw, unapologetic reality of what he’d been doing all these years. Still being Mysterion. Still being South Park’s silent, invisible protector, even after all this time.
“…You okay?” His voice came out low, deep, still in character. He couldn’t help it. He had to ask.
(Y/N) blinked like she’d forgotten how to answer. She nodded once, her mouth parted like there was too much to say and no air to say it with.
He couldn’t help but look away. Tension coiled tight between his shoulders, his fists clenching at his sides. The urge to run was returning full force, but this time it was laced with guilt- sharp and suffocating.
He’d let it happen. He’d let her find out. He should’ve been better. He knew he should’ve protected her before this.
“You weren’t supposed to see any of this. That wasn’t… this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.”
She didn’t speak. Just listened. Like she always did.
“I know I’ve been avoiding you. All of you. But especially you. Because I knew if I saw you again… if we talked, I’d mess up. I’d get soft. Get distracted. And people like him would slip past me.”
There was venom in his voice when he said it- him. Like just remembering that guy’s face brought the urge to break something again.
“Sorry.” he simply added. “For ghosting you. For making you worry.”
She still didn’t say much. Just nodded.
Then, just barely above a whisper, she responded.
“Thank you.”
It hit him harder than it should’ve. She wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t freaking out or telling him he was insane for doing this, or selfish for shutting her out. She was still acting like herself. Still putting him first, even after everything that had just taken place.
That made it worse somehow. He shook his head, his tension dangerously slipping into frustration.
“...But you can’t keep stupidly walking around alone like that. Not at night, not anymore!” His voice was sharp, too loud against the night. “This town isn’t what it used to be. You almost got taken away tonight!”
She flinched a little, not from fear, but surprise. The sharp bite in his words wasn’t like Kenny. Not the Kenny she knew. This was Mysterion. Gritted teeth and guilt. The part of him built to survive what the rest of him couldn’t.
“…I’m not stupid…” She finally breathed out, split between feeling disappointed and offended he’d been talking to her that way.
“Then act like it!” he snapped, before catching himself.
A tense silence fell over them again, before she eventually spoke up, her eyes softening down with defeat when she slowly understood where he was coming from. She never wanted to fight. She just wanted him back in her life. “Okay…..You’re right, I get it. I’ll stop. Promise.”
He looked at her, really looked at her and she met his gaze.. She wasn’t scared or mad at him. Not even close.
“....I won’t tell anyone about it,” she said quietly, before turning back and heading home safely. “I swear.”
That stunned him more than anything else. He could only nod. Feeling grateful in a way that couldn’t be put into words.
*****
Days passed. Then nearly a week. Just like she’d promised, he didn’t see her walking at night anymore.
No late strolls. No corner store runs. No random trips to the comic shop that stayed open too late. She’d listened. She took it seriously. Good, that meant she was safe. That meant he could focus again.
Yet, every night, as he was perched atop a building, high above the quiet streets, he found his eyes wandering again. Down to her house. Toward the glowing windows of her bedroom. Wondering if she was still awake. If she was mad, or still frightened. If she was still trying to reach out to him with concerned messages.
He told himself to get over it. To stay sharp, to be Mysterion.
But one night, some time later the following week, he heard it. Footsteps, carefully climbing up the metal ladder on the side of the building. An unexpected presence. ‘’There you are.’’
He was already on alert, but what he heard had stopped him cold. His body tensed as he heard the familiar voice.
There she was. (Y/N), walking up to him, slightly hesitant. But she wasn’t in her usual winter jacket. She was wearing something else that night.
A reworked version of her own, long-forgotten costume, one she used to wear from way back when she’d played Coon and Friends with Cartman and the others.
Inkjet. It looked sleeker now. Better. Practical. A black mask and a hood of her own half-shadowing her face, black ink patterns swirling across her sleeves. His stomach sank at the sight.
“What the hell are you doing !?”
He didn’t yell, but the anger was real. The panic beneath it even more so.
“You shouldn't be up here!” he snapped, turning toward her. “You almost got abducted last time, and now you’re just, what? Playing dress-up? You think this is some kind of game?!” “Relax. I’m not here to get in the way,” she calmly explained, sitting down next to him on the ledge. “I guess I just …wanted to see what you see.”
He clenched his fists. This was wrong. This was dangerous. She had no idea what kind of hell came with this life. No idea what it meant to be part of the night the way he was.She’d already been distraction enough as it was without even being there physically.
But yet, she glanced sideways at him and smiled.
“I thought maybe… you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”
He kept staring at her, torn. The town was quiet beneath them. Still and cold and washed in that pale, broken kind of moonlight that made everything feel lonelier than it really was. They sat side by side on the rooftop in a tense, long silence.
He was the first to break it. But not gently, like normal daytime Kenny.
“This is serious, (Y/N).”
His voice was low, rougher than she remembered. Sharper. There was something heavy in it. It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was a warning.
“If you’re up here just because you think it’s cool or nostalgic or some shit like that, then you need to leave. Go home.”
She flinched slightly this time, but didn’t argue back. Just shifted her gaze, calm but firm, back out to the town.
“I know it’s not a game.”
Her voice was quieter than his, but not as soft as usual.She was serious too.. “I’m not here to tag along or take pictures or whatever the hell you think I’m doing. I’m not stupid.”
Something about the way she said that made the tension rise in him again.
“You were almost kidnapped! And you froze! You think throwing on a hoodie with some paint makes you ready for what’s out there?”
“No!” she was the one to snap this time. “I think knowing what’s out there and doing nothing is worse!”
That shut him up for a second.
The silence between them twisted into something strained, stretched tight between both frustration and concern and something far deeper that neither of them wanted to name.
“You think I want you involved? You think I don’t lie awake every time I see you out there and wonder if I’m about to see you disappear too!?”
That one hit harder than he meant it to. He inhaled through his nose. Sharp. Controlled. “You think I like the fact that you even had to carry fucking pepper spray? I’ve been doing this alone for a reason, (Y/N). You don’t want to live with the shit I’ve seen. You don’t want to wake up knowing you didn’t stop it. That you couldn’t stop it.”
She glanced at him. “Why do you keep doing it?”
He didn’t answer at first. When he did, it was hoarse. Like it came from somewhere deeper than even he wanted to admit.
“Because if I don’t… who the hell will?”
His voice wasn’t the Kenny she grew up with. Not the Kenny who stole food off her plate or flirted with her, or even crashed through her window in the middle of the night. This was something harder. Like a worn soul stitched together with silence, curses and bloodstains.
She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t try to fix it. She just sat there and listened like she always had. She didn’t look at him like he was broken or stupid for carrying all this weight. Just being quiet and grounded in a way that steadied him more than she probably realized.
Instead, she avoided his eyes and spoke softly again, changing the topic.
“Things at home…They any better?”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. She sighed, not disappointed, just hurt on his behalf. The way someone sighs when they’ve heard the same answer too many times.
“You know,” she muttered, picking at a fray on her glove, “..you can still crash through my window when things get bad.”
He let out a sharp exhale, half scoff, half laugh, but still bitter at the edges.
“I don’t really do these kinds of things anymore.”
There was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes- not in him, but in the fact that he thought he felt like he didn’t need people. That he didn’t need her.
It tugged at something inside him. It made him look away. He hated that look. Not because it was judgmental. Because it was still kind. Still warm, despite how he had been acting around her. He didn’t know how to process that right.
So he turned his head, his hood shifting down slightly with the motion. His eyes were hidden from her sight, back to focusing on the town.
“I don’t want you to get dragged into this life. You don’t deserve that.”
“....And you do?”
He paused. That’s all it took. She understood his silence.
************** Despite his protests, she ended up finding herself coming back.
By now, he knew she was coming before he even heard her. Her steps were light, but still a bit clumsy when she was climbing up that same fire exit ladder. She had been doing this enough nights now that she was predictable. Whenever he had to leave to go take care of some trouble, she would stay put in the same place until he’d come back. She was a presence he simply couldn’t ignore anymore. She sat down beside him again that time. No greeting. No small talk. Just watching over South Park, the two of them.
The air was heavy with the winter chill. Clouds were drifting past a half-hidden moon, and South Park was laying mostly silent below..
Mysterion was perched on his usual spot on the rooftop ledge with one knee bent, his cloak drifting in the wind.
‘’You’re not gonna quit, are you?’’ ‘’Nope.’’
“Won’t you listen to me? You’re not built for this.’’ ‘’Then build me. I’m already here, aren’t I?’’
He scoffed but didn’t move. Didn’t tell her to leave this time. She pulled her hood down, her face sharp in the moonlight.
‘’You know…You could’ve told me. I would’ve kept it a secret, Kenny. You didn’t have to disappear like that.’’
His eyes snapped at the name. ‘’I’m not Kenny when I wear this. I can’t be.’’ ‘’Don’t give me that crap. You’re the same person. Just angrier. Sadder. You still care. That’s why you’re out here every night.’’
He turned away, like the words stung. Like they hit somewhere he wasn’t ready to expose yet.
He exhaled through his nose, before responding. ‘’You’re not like me. You can’t just shrug off death like it’s nothing. You are NOT immortal.You think this is some comic book gig? I’ve fucking buried people. I’ve watched this town eat itself alive, while everyone’s too busy jerking each other off over prom or fucking Halloween parties. You want to stay in that?’’
She said nothing at first, her silence burning hotter than any retort. She looked down at her feet dangling off the ledge of the roof, like she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes right now. ‘’I stayed because I was worried about you. You didn’t come back. You didn’t even say goodbye. I kept thinking, what if this was it? What if I lost you, and I’d never even know why? You’re worried about the possibility of something happening to me, but have you even stopped to think I might be concerned about you?”
That finally made him flinch. His fist tightened against the concrete edge. For a second, she wondered if he was going to shut down again. ‘’I didn’t want you to see this part of me. That I was still doing this.’’ ‘’You idiot. I’ve seen you. Every part. You think I care that you still wear a mask?’’
He laughed under his breath, humorless. ‘’Yeah, well... I care.’’
‘’Then stop pretending I’m just some dumb kid who wandered too close to your manly rooftop cave. I’m not going anywhere. I want to help. Train me.’’
Mysterion’s stare turned sharp. Almost lethal.
‘’No!’’
‘’Kenny..!’’ ‘’Stop! Have you already forgotten about last time ? You freeze when someone lunges, you can’t pack a punch, and you flinch at sudden noises. No. This is serious, (Y/N). I don’t want to see you end up dead just to prove something.’’
‘’Then help me stay alive. With you.’’
There it was. That stubbornness of hers that made it difficult to say no.
He groaned, dragging a gloved hand over his face like she was the most frustrating person he’s ever met at that moment.
******
The following night, he wasn’t too surprised when he heard the ladder creak again. (Y/N) was pulling herself over the ledge with a groan, noticing Mysterion hadn’t even turned around. Like he’d almost accepted that she wasn’t gonna back down. ‘’If you’re gonna be pissed every time I climb up here, at least save me a spot.’’
He didn't look over. Just sighed quietly. Still, he didn’t tell her to leave..
‘’Hey. Look…’’ She started again, careful with her words. ‘’I… thought about this, okay? If you teach me how to fight, like, really fight… I won’t have to wait for you to show up every time something goes wrong. I’d be able to defend myself if something happened again.’’ “You don’t have to do this. It’s dangerous. “What if you get hurt?You wanna hold me responsible if something happens to you?” He knew deep down she wasn’t going to go home. No matter how many times he warned her, no matter how many times he’d told her she shouldn’t be up there with him. She was relentless. Showed up night after night. Even if it meant losing sleep for days. She was utterly determined to stick by him, almost as if terrified deep down Kenny would vanish again without a word.
“You’re not asking me to leave this time. Mysterion’s getting soft.” “I know you’re not gonna leave. You’re being stubborn.”
“I’m stubborn? You’re to talk.” “…You think throwing a few punches fixes everything ?”
“No. But it would be a start. I’ll ask again. Teach me how to fight. How to defend myself.”
Mysterion glanced at her sideways, breathing out his nose with a defeated smirk this time. She wasn’t gonna let go anytime soon.
******
Over time, Mysterion came to expect her. Same time, same rooftop, faithful to her habits. She always climbed up the same ladder with that stubborn glint in her eyes.
Reluctantly, he had ended up giving in to her demands, after she’d asked one too many times.
“Still not swatting me away?”
“You never give up, do you?” He still didn’t look too pleased, but had chosen not to argue.
“Never. Not when it comes to you.”
‘’You’re still being serious about this ?’’
‘’Yes. Thought you’d figured it out by now. I’m not here to be dead weight.’’
He stared at her. He didn’t respond at first, taking in her seriousness about the matter. He looked away for a moment, as if debating whether to give in or insist that she’d go home once again. He then took a long, deep breath out, before steadying his gaze on the girl in front of him. ‘’Stand up.’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’You heard me. Stand up. You wanna learn, right? We’ll start with the basics.’’
He took a few steps back, motioning for her to face him. She raised her fists, a bit awkwardly. ‘’Like this?’’ ‘’No. You're wide open. Feet too close. You’re gonna fall over if I just so much as breathe at you.’’ She tried adjusting, correcting her posture, but it wasn’t much better. He walked right behind her, tapping her heel with the side of his boot. ‘’Widen your stance. Knees bent. You’re not dancing, you're bracing for a hit.’’ (Y/N) rolled her eyes, but remained still, awaiting his next instructions. He was stern, unusually rough with her, like she’d been dealing with an entirely new person all along. She knew she shouldn’t have pestered him so much about the whole thing, but she’d refused to give up. She was determined to prove him wrong, that she wouldn’t be a liability in the near future. That he could rely on her too, sometimes. ‘’Blocking posture next. Keep your arms steady, raise them up tight.’’ He ordered her. She did as instructed. It was still sloppy. He fixed her position, trying again and again. But he didn’t get upset, no matter how many times they’d repeated the same movements. As she maintained her blocking stance, he tried throwing a jab to see if she’d learned what he’d been teaching her. She flinched, her arms losing their position above her face. ‘’That hesitation’ll get you knocked out.’’ He pointed out, flat. She lowered her eyes, but quickly looked back up, keeping her gaze steady. ‘’Okay. Again.’’ So they tried again. He jabbed slower this time and she raised her arm to block. Not perfect. But better. Whenever she’d dropped her defense a little too fast, he’d tapped her shoulder lightly.
‘’That’s your blind spot. Don’t drop your guard so soon.’’
The session kept going for longer than she’d thought. She was winded in under thirty minutes, sweating under her hoodie.
‘’You’re like…. a drill sergeant with a mask and a cape.’’ She half-joked, catching her breath. He raised a brow, the shadow of a smile curling the corners of his lips. ‘’I’m the reason you’re not dead yet.’’ ‘’Yeah… I know. You’re right. But don’t think I’m giving up so soon. And by the way, a little praise goes a long way, you know?’’ ‘’... You’ll get it when you earn it.’’ It was progress.
******* The second (Y/N) closed the door behind her, the adrenaline finally dropped. Her pulse was loud in her ears, her palms still stinging from hitting the rooftop gravel earlier. She dropped her bag on the floor, heading straight for the bathroom.
Her own reflection stared back in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly out of place and there was a faint smear of dirt along her jaw. Her knuckles were red and raw, with a faint dull ache under the skin. She rinsed her face off first, then propped her phone up on the counter, tapping a saved link. The bright screen glowed beside the sink.
“Top 5 Beginner Self-Defense Lessons”
The narrator’s voice was cheerful, almost too cheerful for the bruises she was nursing. She started wrapping her hands with the cheap roll of athletic tape she had bought two days ago. She was clumsy at first, fumbling with the edge, winding it unevenly, having to start over twice.
She kept glancing back at the video for guidance, muttering under her breath.
“Right over the thumb… yeah, okay… wait, no, crap-” When she got back to her own room, she didn’t even give herself a break to rest. She crouched on the floor, in an old t-shirt and shorts, doing push-ups that burned far more than she wanted to admit. Ten in, her arms started shaking. She forced herself to hit fifteen before collapsing onto the carpet, breathing hard.
She rolled onto her back, switching to sit-ups. Slow, deliberate. Counting each one out loud like if she’d stopped, she’d lose her momentum. She tried pushing as much as she could, until her muscles started screaming.
She unlocked her phone again and scrolled to another video this time. “Beginner Boxing Drills.” She tried copying the coach’s movements, throwing one-two combinations, pivoting on her feet. Her breath came in short bursts, timing with each swing.
When she’d finally reached the point of physical exhaustion, she dropped onto her bed, sweat cooling on her skin, the faintest ache radiating from her shoulders. She stared at the ceiling, catching up her breath. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep that night. ****** After a week, despite the physical exertion, she was still showing up. Mysterion was circling her slowly, arms folded. She was panting, holding a low stance, with sweat dampening her collar. Her punches were still off, but closer. Her guard, tighter this time. ‘’That’s better.’’ She threw a punch, her stance too wide again. He grabbed her wrist mid-swing and pushed her legs to demonstrate.
‘’You’re opening yourself up. If you miss, you’ll eat pavement.’’
She pulled back and swung again. Missed. Then again, but this time, it connected. Not strong, but enough to make his head jerk lightly to the side.
For a moment, he just stared at her. Touched his jaw, as if incredulous. But he surprisingly smiled.
‘’There it is.’’
She grinned.
‘’Admit it. You didn’t see that one coming.”
Before she could gloat more, he tripped her with a fast sweep of his leg, making her land with a hard thud.
‘’Seriously?’’ ”Still open. You celebrate mid-fight, you lose.” He reminded her, still stern, but with a hint of amusement in his voice this time around.
She groaned but got back up with a sly little grin, brushing gravel from her hands.
They sparred for a while longer, before taking a break for the night on their usual lookout rooftop ledge, watching the town stretch before them like it was something distant and unreachable.
Beside him, (Y/N) was calm. Focused. Not fidgeting, or insisting that they’d keep going.
She shifted, bringing her arms around her knees, as if hesitant about speaking up.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
It was a simple question. One he didn’t really know to answer properly. One he could respond to with the one thing that remained unchanged despite all this time.
“…No. Not really.”
His voice stayed low, grittier than usual. Like all that darkness he’d tucked away for years only had this version of him to speak through. Like Mysterion was the only one who could say it out loud. She simply looked at him, focused as he opened his mouth to talk.
“...I can’t remember the last time I slept more than three hours. My house still sucks. Karen’s doing what she can, but Mom’s been on a bender for a week straight. I’ve been working two shifts at that gas station off the highway just to help pay rent and half the time I’m out here doing this. I’m thinking, why? What’s even the point anymore? Even if I choose to end my misery, I wake up the next day like it was nothing. There is no escape. There’s never been any. I still fight through it.”
She still didn’t speak. Just listened. That was the difference with her. She didn’t fill the silence. Didn’t say the usual “It’ll get better” or “Hang in there.” She let him talk.
So he kept going.
“I guess I thought, if I kept being Mysterion, maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a fucking burden to everyone. Maybe, I could fix something. Even if it’s just this town. Even if it’s just… keeping you safe. My sister safe. Everything’s always been so shitty. But this? It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”
There was a long pause, before she finally spoke up, gently as ever.
“You’re not a burden. You never were to me.”
A brief smile tugged at his lips. It hit him harder than he’d expected. She wanted him around, even after all this. She always did.
He turned his head just slightly, watching her from beneath the edge of his hood. Her face was relaxed, watching the horizon, like she was giving him space even when she didn’t want to. That was the kind of friend she’d always been. Not just bold. Not just clever. But good. Better than he deserved, sometimes.
“...I used to love sneaking through your window,” he said, surprising even himself.
Her gaze drifted to him.
“I always hit my knee on your stupid dresser.”
“That’s because you came in like a wrecking ball every time.” “Not every time.”
“You literally sprained your ankle once.”
He scoffed, but smiled back for what felt like the first time in weeks. It was faint. Lopsided. Short-lived. But it was real.
It reminded him, for an instant, that he wasn’t just Mysterion. Not with her. He was still Kenny.
He wondered if it was foolish. If trusting her was the right move. But she had always been the one person who could pull him back from the edge.
Maybe now, it was time to stop pulling away.
*******
Soon enough, they started going on patrols. Together.
“You ready for this?” Mysterion asked quietly, his eyes scanning the streets below.
She smirked, shifting the weight of her backpack. “Do you even want to know?”
He glanced over.
She reached into the bag and pulled out the small canister of pepper spray. “Basic. Just in case.”
Then, a folding knife. “Backup.”
Finally, a compact airsoft pistol, the kind that didn’t kill but left enough sting to stun. “Last resort.”
He blinked, almost impressed.
“Huh. You really thought this through.”
“Drawing comics ain’t the only thing I’m good at.”
They took off, moving like ghosts through the town’s shadows, keeping close to the edges. The quiet hum of the sleeping town felt like a thin veil, ready to be torn. The streets were slick from an earlier rainfall, reflecting the orange blur of the streetlamps like they’d been painted in gasoline. South Park after dark wasn’t always quiet and more often than not, the noises came in bursts. A drunk person shouting at no one. A muffled TV laugh track leaking out a cracked window. The slow hum of a car that had no business creeping through the residential streets at this hour.
Mysterion walked ahead, his cape trailing behind him, his boots hitting the pavement in even, deliberate steps. Behind him, (Y/N) matched his stride, lighter on her feet but noticeably alert, her gaze flicking from one shadow to the next. She’d trained for weeks, with bruised knuckles and sore muscles and now here she was. It wasn’t a drill anymore.
“You’re keeping your shoulders tight,” Mysterion pointed out when he’d quickly glanced over his shoulder. “Good. Makes you a smaller target.”
“Or maybe I’m just cold.” That got the faintest huff of amusement out of him. “You won’t notice the cold once things get moving.”
And things did get moving quicker than she expected.
A shrill alarm split the air somewhere two streets over. Mysterion’s head snapped toward the sound before her brain caught up. “Come on.”
They cut through a narrow alley, splashing through puddles and hurdling over a tipped trash can, the scent of wet garbage suddenly rising up. The glow of a convenience store sign was the first thing the pair noticed, then the two figures bolting out the door, black hoodies stuffed with whatever they could carry.
‘’Keep to your left’’ Mysterion ordered. She didn’t question it.
They split, circling the robbers from opposite angles. Mysterion intercepted the first one head-on, with a hard tackle that knocked the man’s haul scattering across the pavement including chips, some petty cash and a bottle of whiskey shattering in a spray of glass and liquid.
The second guy never saw (Y/N) coming until she rammed her shoulder into him. The impact rattled her bones, but it was enough to send him stumbling. He swung a wild punch; she ducked under it, recalling every repetition of the drills in her room. A sharp jab to his ribs, then a sweep of his leg. He went down hard.
By the time she straightened up, breathing heavily, Mysterion had the first guy pinned, knee in his back, while the man was spitting curses into the asphalt.
“You handled yourself,” Mysterion said, looking over to her. For a minute, it didn’t sound like the stoic, untouchable voice of South Park’s most mysterious vigilante. It sounded real. Surprised. Even impressed.
“Guess I paid attention in class.’’
*****
The nights kept coming after that. Some were loud, with chases, shouting and adrenaline still humming hours later. Others were more quiet, enough for the two of them to end up perched on the edge of some building rooftop, with their legs dangling over the street. Those were the nights she had a soft spot for, when they just sat and talked, watching the empty roads and listening for the wrong kind of sounds.
Mysterion realized something he couldn’t say out loud, not just yet, but he preferred her here. In sight. Within arm’s reach. Not wondering if she was walking home alone through some back street with half the town’s chaos waiting to find her.
One particular night, the air had the stale chill of late winter, like they could feel something was amiss. They were cutting across the back lot of the community center when faint voices drifted from an alley to their right.
He stopped first, raising a gloved hand.
“…keep the sane ones safe… a haven…”
They both edged closer, sidling up against the wall until the bricks were cold against their shoulders. The figures in the alley were little more than shapes under a busted light, their faces shadowed.
“…better than letting them run wild out there… South Park eats its own…it’s insane out there.”
Mysterion narrowed his eyes, trying to focus.
“…the sooner we find them, the better…”
The shapes shifted, footsteps crunching over grit as they started walking away, the conversation fading into the hum of a far-off streetlamp.
The pair waited a few minutes before stepping back into the open.
“Did you hear that?”
“I heard enough. They’re talking about locking some of the townspeople away. Calling it safety.”
“Safety? What kind of safety is that? That’s not good.”
“No, it’s not.” The finality in his tone cut her off. “Surviving here means living through it. Fighting through it. Not hiding locked away in some basement because it’s easier. South Park might be shit, but we still deserve to live just like anybody else.”
He looked down the street where the strangers had vanished, his fists curling at his sides.
“That,” he said, low and certain, “is our next target. These guys ? One of them was working for this group. The one who almost kidnapped you.”
Just like that, the hunt was on.
****
The following night, the streets of South Park were even quieter than usual. Snow drifted lazily from the orange glow of the streetlights, the muffled crunch of boots on snow the only sound as Mysterion and (Y/N) approached the community center from the shadows. The air was sharp with cold, frosting the edges of their breath as they moved in silence.
Mysterion slowed first, raising a gloved hand in a precise motion to let her know to stop. They were close enough now to see movement around the back lot, making the faint silhouettes of the same men they’d overheard the night before. A dim security light flickered over the group, casting their shapes in fractured yellow as they huddled in the alley.
They were talking again.
Mysterion motioned for her to stay low, and the two slipped closer along the narrow side of the building, knees bending into a crouch as they came to a halt behind a dumpster reeking faintly of stale beer and burnt coffee filters. The cold metal pressed against her shoulder through her jacket. She could just make out their words now , broken, but sharper than before.
“…not a prison, it’s protection,” another argued. “…before it’s too late and they wreck up more than just South Park.”
(Y/N) shifted her weight to get a better angle, but her foot caught the edge of a frozen soda cup. The plastic crackled under her heel like a gunshot in the stillness.
She froze, breath caught in her throat.
One of the men paused mid-sentence, looking over his shoulder.
Mysterion’s hand was on her arm instantly, steady but firm, pulling her backward. His other hand gestured sharply, don’t move. They stayed still as statues, until the murmurs picked up again and the group had seemed to lose interest.
Only then did he lean toward her, his voice laced with a hint of irritation. “Watch your footing. We can’t afford to be seen.’’
“Sorry.”
They stayed put until the meeting broke apart and the men began to move, heading down the side street toward the outskirts of town. “Let’s go. Keep to the shadows, ten feet behind.”
The two trailed the group in silence, weaving between fences and backyards, the sound of boots on hard-packed snow muffled by the distance. The men didn’t look back. Good.
The trail led them further from the neighborhood lights and into the flat stretch of farmland outside town. A barn loomed ahead, its roof half-collapsed under years of snow and inadequate care. Then, the group slipped inside through a side door, their voices fading.
Mysterion motioned her to stay low as they approached one of the boarded windows. Through a gap, dim light spilled across a cramped, cluttered room inside. (Y/N) saw them.
Familiar faces.
Craig. Heidi. Even Kyle and Clyde, along with some of the parents. All of them alive, but pale, sitting in silence like they’d been there for days.
She felt the air leave her chest in a cold rush.
Mysterion’s glare deepened under his hood as he scanned the scene. “We’re not rushing in. Count the men, count their weapons. We work with what we’ve got, not with what we hope we have.”
She nodded, pulling her jacket tighter, suddenly aware of the weight of the pepper spray in her pocket, the folding knife in its sheath, and the airsoft gun in her bag.
They crouched away from the window, snow crunching softly under their boots as the night seemed to close in.
“We’ll come back with a plan,” Mysterion murmured, eyes still fixed on the barn. “And this time… we won’t fail.”
