A/N: So, I got a new haircut that inspired this whole thing. First, I decided, since my hair's short enough, I'm going to dress up as Ze Mole and take pictures. Well, in some of those pictures (which, I must say, looked a lot like him) I had that forsaken, you-don't-know-what-I've-seen look that just seemed to fit Ze Mole so well somehow. And then, the more I looked at them, the more I thought of making a story, until it all just escaladed into... this. This shitty oneshot, to say the least.

I don't know, it just seemed to me like there weren't enough Christophé-centric fics, and the ones with him in them never went in-depth enough with his character. Some of them just had fleeting glimpses of the angry, shovel-wielding Frenchman. But even the ones in which he was a central character didn't go in-depth enough. It was always from Kyle's POV, or Kenny's, or Gregory's, or whoever he happened to be paired up with. And since I'm working on a fic like that, (even though I'm trying to avoid it, there are still entire chapters where he isn't there, but at least some entirely dedicated to him) but with an OC, and am likely to upload it soon, I decided to do this. Can't stop a plot bunny on the rampage, y'know?

Anyways, you can think of this as the prequel/preview for my upcoming multi-chaptered fic, Who Knew? if you want, since it talks about the same OC's a bit, and is a little before the arrival of my character in South Park. If you don't want to, that's fine, but that's what it's supposed to be. Sorry if this is longer than the actual story...

Disclaimer: If I owned South Park, there'd be a LOT more Christophé in it, lemme tell ya. By the way, 'zat one song' that he's referring to is "You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison by My Chemical Romance. I don't own that either. But I do own Charlotte and The Shadow.

By the way, like I said, if you wanna know how all this works out and gets happier, look out for my upcoming fic, "Who Knew?"

WARNING: Mentions of slight Christophé/Gregory, so be prepared for that. Nothing major, though. Also, this is EXTREMELY angsty and not very happy. I'm pretty proud of the ending though; the ending's what I started with. But hey, every MCR fan knows that The End is only the beginning, eh? Also, it's rated T because this is South Park, and this is Ze Mole, and he swears like a fucking French trucker. :)

Enjoy, now. And FUCKING REVIEW SO I KNOW HOW THE FUCK I DID WITH THIS!

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Sometimes, being a mercenary 'as eets drawbacks.

I mean, being ze most wanted man een Europe, eet 'as eets ups and downs. I don't mind being well known, because 'oo doesn't love a good dose of attention? But eet's a 'assle, and very 'ard to find a 'otel room weeth Interpol always keeping zeir fucking eyes out for Ze legendary Mole.

Everyone zeenks zat I'm just Ze Mole. I'm Ze invincible fucking Mole. No one zeenks I 'ave real feelings, I doubt even Gregory does. And we 'ad... a fling at one point, eef zat's what you want to call eet. Nozing big, physical attraction at ze most... besides, everyone in ze company knows 'e 'as ze 'ots for Charlotte. 'E probably was only using me to make 'er jealous.

"Mole," Gregory said, "I'm sorry. It really isn't working out. But come on, we both knew it wouldn't. I was never serious, really. My heart belongs to another, as does yours. Correct?"

I growled. I 'ated 'ow Gregory always used my codename, even een eentimate situations. I also 'ated being used. But what I REALLY 'ated was ze fact zat 'e 'ad to bring it up. 'Ad to bring 'er up.

"Eet doesn't matter, beetch," I said gruffly. "You know, I still zeenk of you as ze closest zeeng I 'ave to a friend, and I intend to keep eet zat way."

Gregory smiled, fucking smiled, glad zat zeengs were once again going 'is way. I wished zey weren't, but I wasn't going to get all Legally Blonde on 'is ass and start freaking out and crying. And no, I am NOT a pussy for watching zat movie!

"We should pursue other opportunities, old chap," Gregory said, putting 'is 'and on my shoulder. "I promise I'll make up the lost time to you someday."

"Sure, sure," I said dismissively. "Now go court your beloved Charlotte before I force you to do it!"

He chuckled, but I could see ze faintest 'int of a blush working eets way up onto 'is delecate features. Take zat, Gregory.

Even I could tell you zat using people doesn't work. And I 'ave 'ad ze worst relationship problems in ze world.

"Remember, Mole," she said, "Find me." And weez zat she walked away.

I never found 'er. I never got ze chance. I've always felt like sheet for eet, but what could I do? I was always eizer grounded or occupied.

I stared sullenly at my ceiling, lying face up on my bed... really eet was just a mattress on ze floor, but I couldn't afford to 'ave someone 'iding under my bed and keelling me een my sleep.

I looked at ze bracelet she gave me. Eet was a zin but surprisingly strong chain. Much like 'er. She looked so delicate, but so surprisingly strong. I could never 'ave keelled all zose guards at once weeth a single knife and no 'elp or wounds, especially not surrounded by guard dogs. Not weezout creating a scene, of course. Zat must be why she was called Ze Shadow.

Ze bracelet 'ad a small, rectangular plate, on which was carved in intricate calligraphy, 'Amber.' Eet was very difficult for me to see, since ze plate was so scratched and scuffed. But I read it. Amber. Was zat 'er name? Would I ever get ze chance to know?

I knew she would 'ate me. I knew eet, even eef I couldn't talk to 'er. I could call Charlotte and look 'er up, at ze very least, but I didn't. She wanted me to find 'er. Not Charlotte, me. And I couldn't. Fuck.

I definitely could feel. Sure, I 'ated God, but wouldn't you, eef 'e 'ad taken away so many zeengs so precious to you, and was sure to take away so many more? And yet, despite all zis, no one knew zat I 'ad a 'eart, a soul, a mind zat wasn't zat of a perfectly oiled keelling machine. Eet wasn't my fault I was a mercenary. Zey saw me deeging and sent me to zat God-awful camp, where a girl nearly died because she forgot to check 'er food for poision!

Secretly, I loathe zis job. But eet's all I know 'ow to do. Eet's what I was programmed to do since ze age of six, and what I weel do until I die. And between ze mercenary work and ze chain smoking, zat may be very soon.

My muzzer never loved me. I was a mistake from ze conception. Why else would a muzzer try to abort 'er child weez a clozes'anger? I 'ave never been loved, but for once. And zat weell never come back. Why? Because I never contacted 'er. I never found Ze Shadow, and I'm paying for eet weez my misery. Eef zere was one person zat ever showed me affection, eet 'ad to be 'er. And where eez she now? Eef I were a real man, I woudl fucking know! Eet's never "'Allo, Christophé." Never 'allo. Never anyzing. No one even talks to me. I am not Christophé to zese people, or to any people. I'm Ze fucking Mole. Mercenary. Eef I could go back, I would find 'er. I should now, but eet's too late. She's forgotten about me, I know eet. And eef she 'asn't, she probably 'ates my fucking guts.

Every time I came 'ome soaked een blood, 'alf of eet usually my own, I felt zese feelings of remorse. When I was doing ze job, 'owever, all I could know was ze zrill of ze keell. I 'ad lost time long ago of ze number dead because of me. Even in an indirect way I was responsible for deaths. Eef I robbed a bank, 'ow many lives deed I ruin?

I've always tried to adopt a nihilistic attitude. Maybe nozing really exists. Maybe, een ze words of zat song I do not remember ze name of, 'Life eez but a dream for ze dead.' Maybe life eez all a dream, or in my case, nightmare. Maybe we're all a game, and God likes to get 'Is sick keecks out of our misery. Faggot. Nihilism eez always more confusing and frustrating zan actually believing in my own existance, but only eef I zeenk about eet too much. Really, eet 'urts so much less. And zat's why I keep eet. Because really, what's zere to believe eef all zere eez eez pain?

Eet's 'ard to cope weeth being a mercenary. Zere are zeengs I've seen, zeengs I've done... Zeengs you couldn't ever imagine or 'ope to understand. And for what? Money? Fame? Well, let me tell you: Ze life of a mercenary eezn't all eet's cracked up to be. Eet eezn't all fortune and fame and adventure like ze beetches and fat cats in Hollywood make eet out to be. Eet's doing what you 'ave to do to stay alive. Eet's ending lives for a quick buck. 'Ave you ever watched someone die by your 'and? 'Ave you ever seen a child beaten, and not been able to do a damn zeeng about eet? Well, once you do zese zeengs, once you do ze zeengs I 'ave done, see ze zeengs I 'ave seen, you cna never go back. You are wanted, marked. You can never go back. And now you're probably wondering, "'Oo eez zees? 'Oo eez zees person zat zeenks 'e knows all zese zeengs?" You're probably wondering 'ow I know zis. Well, eet's seemple really.

I'm Ze Mole, beetch.

Sorry it's so short. This is just a preview, though. Trust me, though, when I say that the actual thing will be MUCH longer. Hope you enoyed, please review and tell me how I did. :)