[An Editor's Note: This chapter was edited on April 18th, 2020, to clean up a few typos and straighten out a couple of continuity details. I wasn't expecting this single story to spin off into a long series back when I first wrote it, but here we are!]

Holy hello, it's a new fic!

Hello, dear readers, and welcome to my very first South Park story. I've been writing fic for a hot second or two, but I like to make a new account when I get into a new fandom, mostly not to spam my watchers with stuff they don't really care about. Protecting the brand and all that. I'm going to preface this story with letting you all know that I actually haven't watched that much South Park in terms of the TV show. I got into South Park via the games Stick of Truth and Fractured But Whole, got the idea to write this fic, and have since spent entirely too much time on the wiki trying to track down enough detail on everyone to keep them in character. I have started watching the series now, and I am really enjoying it, but I ask that you hold the flames if you notice I've gotten a detail of someone's background or character wrong. Just lemme know via a review or message, and I will endeavor to fix it when time allows. That said, please be polite when informing me of any errors.

Hokay? Hokay!

ON
WITH
THE
FIC!

OWTF!

::Vaccinations Don't Cause Zombies! - Mysterion and Buttlord::

"I'm in position, Buttlord."

Finally, the signal. She'd been waiting, tense anticipation churning in her stomach. She was ready to be done with this mess.

The gruff voice in her ear was her go-ahead to unlock the front door of her home and step outside into the chilly Colorado night.

Sometimes, stuff like this still felt like the silly little game they'd all played back when she'd moved to this quiet little mountain town- everyone in costumes, playing the part of some hardcore vigilante. Code names, bad guys, secret communications and after-dark operations? All childish, nostalgic, and familiar. The main difference these days was that there were only three people playing, and two of them really did have powers. Maybe not the obvious ones like flying or shooting laser beams out of their eyes, like the heroes in the movies had. Maybe not even powers that could be considered wholly positive, seeming more like curses at times... but still, they were real, and that removed what they were doing from kiddie-play-time. When she stepped off of the concrete stoop and onto the sidewalk that ran to the houses of all the people she knew, she was well aware that there was no make-believe involved in this. No imagination, no status effects, and none of the bullshit some of her more... imaginative friends would bring to the table if they were involved.

No, no, this was all quite serious.

Stepping outside allowed the harsh winter chill to attack her face, and her shoulders shrugged upwards beneath the layers she wore to keep the cold out; an electric blue hoodie that was part of her daily wear, and a heavy black coat with a faux fur lining layered atop it for extra insulation. The hood was flipped up over her head, a couple curls of candy-red hair defying captivity just at the upper edge of her vision.

The hood served more than one purpose at the moment; both to keep her head warm, and to hide the Bluetooth earpiece through which her team was talking to her.

"They see you, but they're not certain you're the target yet. Sounds like the hood is in the way. Look out towards the street, but not directly at the vehicle." A female voice; their non-powered communications expert. Didn't matter- the things that girl did with phones and social media should have been considered a superpower.

She stuffed her hands into her pockets as her head twisted around. Foggy breath was expelled out as she eyed the street. A white van that claimed to be from an extermination service was parked up the way, just across from her home. Despite being told not to look directly at the vehicle, she still did. She could see someone in the driver's seat, maybe even the glint of binoculars? Low tech, much? Her expression didn't change, she simply stared at the van and willed a response.

Come out, come investigate. Is your cover blown? Am I just a paranoid kid staring at an unfamiliar car? Take your pick, just come and get me, bitches.

"What the- Dee, Dee stop looking right at them, they might shoot!"

"Oh my god, Buttlord, do you have to do this every time?"

Both parts of the team were complaining, but the stare persisted. Where were the people in the back of the van watching from? Oh, there it was, a little camera on the hood, snuggled up against the base of the antenna- a video feed for the others hiding out in the generic vehicle. Her face didn't shift, but her pupils did; zeroing in on that point and letting the seconds pass by as she internally grinned.

C'mon, bastards- come out and play.

"Okay, okay, they've made positive ID. They're gonna come after you as soon as you look away, try to sneak up and take you by surprise. Sounds like everyone but the driver is going."

"Call Girl, think you can handle the driver?"

"Already on it, Mysterion. The van has integrated GPS, I can use that to fry all the electronics in there."

That'll be a nasty shock. She turned her head back the way she'd been going; towards the bus stop.

All things considered, it was a pretty quiet night in South Park. Most of the lights were out, and she only heard occasional movement; muffled by the snow cover on the ground. Hobo? Raccoon? Either was possible, and neither were worth investigation.

"They're on the move, Dee. Sounds like they want to grab you first before they go after your parents."

A devious little smirk appeared on her face. Ah, yes, her parents- whom she'd warned, and who were fully ready to defend themselves against anyone who tried to break in. Wasn't it nice when everyone was honest with each other? At least, within their little family unit.

"What about the asshole in the van? Is he moving?" Mysterion barked over the communications channel.

A pause intervened before Call Girl replied. "He's on standby to call for backup."

Mysterion chuckled darkly. "Good fucking luck on that one."

"I know, right?" Call Girl sounded rather pleased with herself. No doubt the man's phone would explode if and when he did try to call for help.

Comm chatter ceased at that point; things would get real once she- Dee or Buttlord both being acceptable titles, but neither being a name she'd given herself- reached the bus stop. It wasn't far away; she could see the bench, the sign, the covering kiosk; and the thick bush cover all around it. A few more steps, a few more paces, just a little closer...

"Hey! You! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE 'EM!"

"Shit."

Call Girl's utterance was an echo of Dee's own thoughts. She hadn't quite made it to the bus stop's bench, instead halted on the other side of the road that, if she turned up it, she could follow up to main street and the rest of town. Her target zone, the bus stop, was tantalizingly close... but might as well have been a mile away.

Apparently these assholes weren't quite as incompetent as the usual idiots who got sent after her. Her feet planted on the sidewalk, and her hands rose up to either side of her head with her fingers spread wide; the universal sign of surrender.

"Wait for my signal, then duck and run." Mysterion's direction came as stage whisper. He was hiding in the bush cover, just behind the bus stop. It sounded like he had a new plan, adapted on the fly.

"Got you good, you little shit-stain." She could hear all of them now; footfalls against the sidewalk no longer trying to be stealthy. One, two, three men, approaching to cut her off at both sides and the rear. The clatter of cuffs unfurling came from the guy directly behind her. "Nice and easy, no stupid moves... no one has to get hurt tonight."

Little closer, fuckwad.

"NOW!"

The barked order was both in her ear and from the bushes- but not the ones from behind the bus stop. It was directly to her right- the bushes on this side of the street. There was no time to analyze it, simply diving forward and rolling in the snow before getting back to her feet and dashing for the Plexiglas of the kiosk. She heard a hard hit behind her, like a linebacker hitting a training block, along with a storm of curses and confusion. "What the hell? Who the fuck is this kid?" Were identifiable from the verbal mess.

And then there was a gunshot.

She'd arrived at the kiosk, grabbed one of the metal pipes that made up its frame, and swung around it to turn herself back and see what had happened. One guy was down, his head having hit the street, hard. Another had been knocked away and off course, bent in the middle of the road and recovering his balance. The third, however, was the one who had managed to draw a weapon... and the shot that had been fired hadn't been a warning.

Among the men in suits was a gray figure that, again, reminded Dee of when they'd all been kids playing hero.

Mysterion.

Mysterion's costume had changed a little bit with age, as had the boy wearing it. It was still gray on gray, with a splattered green 'M' on his chest, but the underpants had been exchanged for a ripped up pair of jean shorts, and the combat boots had gotten heavier. The dark hood and cape were nearly the same as well, though the old one from when they were little had been replaced a number of times in the years since. As for the boy? Key differences had occurred, such as height and muscle mass. Growing was a key part of time going by, after all.

In this moment, red had also been introduced to the color scheme. Even at this distance, she could see him as a shocked figure on his knees, tensed up to leap at the third and final man and put the hard part of this operation to bed. She could see his eyes from beneath the shadow of the cowl, looking somewhat up, and crossed in an unnatural way. The hood had jerked back just a few inches by ejecting brain matter and bone, and the middle of his brow was visible- as was the hole punched by a recently fired bullet.

Blood was just running down his nose and chin. His body remained ridged for a moment, and then began to slump.

How about no?

Breaking wind on command was, for most, a party trick. For her, it was a little more involved in that- bad gas was a side-effect of some bullshit medicine her parents secretly fed her to try and keep her hidden, but it took a mixture of in-born talent and trained skill to rip time and space while also ripping ass. The medicine wasn't a secret anymore; instead something she took every day like it was a multivitamin. And the gas?

It tended to come in handy. Working it up inside her body was all but second nature, and focusing on the exact moment in time she wanted to step back to was something so practiced it was like pulling on her favorite shirt in the morning. She could hold it, grasp it, and- let it go!

"What the fuck?!"

The startled cry of a man who had no longer fired a gun. It was back in his holster, the bullet back in the chamber, and- most importantly- Mysterion's skull was back in one piece.

And he was pissed.

"No mercy!"

His voice was no less vicious than his brow as he leapt up and butted heads with the last man standing. Dee didn't stop to watch- there was the guy staggering in the street who would find his feet sooner rather than later. Her gaze trained on him, rushing up in a few powerful strides and arriving next to the man to drive her elbow into the back of his skull with all the momentum and speed she could muster. Like a beaten dog, he yelped, and she followed it up with a knee to his chest that knocked out both the wind in his lungs and the balance of his body. He crashed back onto his rear, fingers scrambling for the holster inside his jacket.

Her foot met the side of his head in a solid kick, knocking him the rest of the way down, his nose making an ugly sound when it met the pavement. He didn't get back up.

She looked back. Mysterion was standing between the other two downed men, looking no worse for wear. Faintly, she shot him a victorious smile.

Now if only the street didn't smell like rotten eggs and week-old kitty litter.

"Call Girl, how's our friend in the van?" Mysterion asked his comm, their third member always somewhere removed from the action.

"Unconscious. He tried to phone for backup... part of his face looks like burnt bacon. Ick."

"Got it. Let's get these idiots into place, and call it a night." He nodded to himself while looking over to his partner in this task. "You got that one?"

Dee nodded quickly, bending down and lifting up the man she'd just beaten to the ground over her shoulder as if he were an exceptionally heavy sack of potatoes. By the time she'd come to rejoin Mysterion on the sidewalk, he had the other two by the collars of their cliched Men in Black suits and had begun dragging them back to their van.

"I'll meet you guys at the van. Call Girl, out."

Dee snaked a hand into her hood, turning her earpiece off and looking to Mysterion to see him pausing to do the same. Communications prudence was something they'd learned to observe a while ago- no need to leave an open signal in case someone else decided to join the party.

"That was a good save. Can't say it felt great, but... thanks." Mysterion's gratitude was a grumbling, bitter thing. He'd told her before, about his inability to die, and how no one ever remembered when he did perish in the course of any given day. She herself seemed to be similar to the rest, in the way that she could not remember him specifically dying during any of the previous years they'd spent as friends... but she knew she'd seen him take mortal blows. It was all covered in a very uncertain fog of memory long forgotten, that yes he'd gotten shot, or impaled, or burned- but never once could she remember him dying. He was simply... there the next day, perfectly alright... if a little sad.

If it were an endless cycle of deaths that only he remembered and suffered through, she preferred to treat him as mortal. This wasn't the first bullet that she'd farted out of his skull.

She offered a silent smile. Doing what I can with what I've got.

He waited a moment, as if he expected her to say something- she didn't. Just another awkward moment with a long stare before he shook his head. "It's been fucking years, and I still think one of these days you're finally going to say something. What the fuck, man?"

C'mon, you know better than to ask. You know I'm just gonna blink at you a few times. Here, I'll even shrug, just this once.

"Alright, alright, I got it. Let's just finish the job and go home."

::The Author's Corner::

Don't forget to leave a comment if you're enjoying the story. Even something short is appreciated!

ONWARDS!

-Buttlord