NOTES

Story was adapted from an RP log with Mary, though major plot points and action sequences were fully re-written or added for SPBB.

 

He knew it was a trap long before walking down the stairs. The clues had been laid out as plain as daylight, like a trail of gingerbread crumbs leading Gretel back into the witch's furnace, though in this instance, they were instead leading to the dilapidated gas station that sat just beyond town limits. It still had the art deco details, tarnished with time and neglect, of a period when maybe the town either saw or expected an onset of tourist traffic. What hadn't been salvaged for scrap was grimy with layers of dust and black grease, giving the inside an industrial stink of decay. At least it was better than the smell of pungent cat piss outside where the feral attempted to outrank on territory.

Mysterion took the main road because it was the quickest route, and there wasn't much merit in being stealthy about his ultimate destination, not with the paper trail that pointed like a lit neon sign reading 'bad guy here.' He attempted to be cautious about going in because there was no telling what lay beyond the corroded metal doorframe, ancient shards of glass crunching underfoot. It was too quiet otherwise to even think he might've caught unaware, too dark that even his eyes had issue getting used to his surroundings. The thrill of the moment kept him pushing onward, delving into the unknown. He had a penlight strapped to him, just for such occasions, and was smart enough to know this would be the right time to use it. And yet, he didn't so much as make a move for it, purposefully being foolish just so he could feel the hairs at his nape rise.

And then he heard it, a low chuckle not even echoing to displace the location, which wasn't surprising considering how cramped the interior of the garage was. And he knew his quarry wanted to be caught as much as he did, was probably getting as big of rush from this cat and mouse game. Such was the thrill of feeding into the superhero shtick. It was always important to think of those he took down as being simply 'bad' because they weren't necessarily villains, just people doing bad things. This was why Kenny was a far more successful hero, because he could never see people in shades of black and white and had a rather noble sense of justice. Mysterion turned, his foot skidding across concrete, the sole of his boot sliding with surprisingly little traction as layers of dirt and dust buffered the momentum. But he needed to face the chuckle, to take his rival head on. He heard a click in the pregnant silence following the scrape of his foot, which was immediately interrupted by searing pain as lights flashed brightly. It was as if a dozen cameras had gone off at once, LED bulbs flaring in unison and robbing him of whatever acclimation he'd gotten to the darkness, tearing through his eyeballs and into his brain with a sharp throb.

Disoriented and stunned by the onslaught, Mysterion, once South Park's personal hero, was laid low with a well-placed blow to the back, definitely something heavy and sturdy. Considering the amount of debris littered about, it shouldn't be surprising his opponent had a makeshift weapon. Based on the way it felt cracking across his shoulder blades, it had to have been a plank of wood, or at worst a branch gathered from the nearby foliage outside. Either way, there was enough force behind the blow that it drove the air from his lungs and sent him barreling forward, stirring up enough dust that he could taste it, dry and chalky against his tongue. But even reeling and still with spots dancing in his vision from the blast of light, Mysterion had a better bead on his target and spun to grapple blindly.

Mysterion definitely had the advantage, or so he thought, considering his gloves had a rubber-tipped grip to them. But there was no sensation beyond knowing he was touching something solid and sometimes only managing to grasp onto fabric. And he could definitely hear the other struggling, breathing harder and making these tiny grunts, which only fed into Mysterion's ego, certain that if he could just topple the other over, then victory was secure. But the other had a wraparound grip on one of his arms, trying to disable him perhaps, and the more Mysterion squirmed to break free, the tighter the grip became. It seemed his opponent had no intention of letting go of his arm, so much so that Mysterion was rewarded with an elbow to the mouth, the dusty aftertaste replaced with the salt of bare skin. It wasn't hard enough to do much in the way of damage. In fact, his teeth ended up biting into the elbow, earning a rather satisfying yelp from his rival, but it rattled him enough that his eyeteeth did cut into the inside of his cheek, blood flooding his mouth instantly.

It stunned him long enough that he heard a disturbingly familiar rattle and the click of a cuff being snapped into place about his wrist. Not the cheap aluminum toy sort, but the legit weight of steel biting through his glove and into the joint. And it was enough to make him go still in surprise at the unexpected pressure, which allowed the other to pull free of his grasp. Though maybe not completely as he still felt the brush of heavy fabric drag across his leg. Mysterion made a grab for it and was rewarded with another flash of light right in his face at close proximity, robbing him once more of his vision and leaving him with a heated curse on his lips in frustration.

He moved to stand up, only to find he couldn't get very far with his cuffed hand linked to something immobile or at least heavier than his body weight. First priority was definitely to free the limb, so he reached to find what he was attached to, fingers gliding over something smooth and curved. Unfortunately, his blind curiosity was rewarded with a second cuff clicking over his unchained hand, which left both arms bound to the unknown object, definitely disabling him from doing little more than kick and maybe spit once he could see again. Mysterion yanked on the cuffs, hearing the chains clink together and rattle against the decidedly metallic object. But apparently his struggle was rather entertaining to his captor because there came the low chuckle once more, closer, reveling in perceived victory and dripping with pure evil at what was yet to come.

Mysterion gave out a rather rancid sort of curse, not the type that was becoming of a hero, but definitely suitable for someone in a predicament they'd rather not find themselves in. And he felt a hum building in the handcuffs, traveling through whatever they were attached to into his body, as if there were a motor somewhere on the other end. The air filled with a fresh and rather distinct stink of oil, not the kind that came from old drip pans and cast aside engine parts, but from the grind of gears recently greased. Mysterion didn't think there was still electricity running to this place, but then again his rival was something of a genius when it came to tinkering with mechanical bits, so it wouldn't be unlike him to jerry rig old machinery to either a generator or battery, especially to pull off the initial ambush of lights. Sure enough, there came a dissatisfied whirr, as if the old bits were protesting being pulled out of retirement, a heavy chain clanking behind him. And he found his arms being lifted gradually yet still forcibly over his head as whatever he was chained to rose upward, leaving him rather helpless for the moment, dangling like an animal on a butcher's hook.

"Might want to shut your eyes for this," came a warning, the voice holding that same low tenor as the earlier laugh, but now almost joyously sing-song and a little bit self-satisfied.

Mysterion was almost defiant just because his face was burning in humiliation at the indignity of being caught and strung up, yet he obeyed because he knew with dreadful certainty what would come next. A second passed before he could see the red of a light being turned on behind closed lids, this one steady rather than a harsh flash. And this time he allowed himself to get used to the light, everything coming into gradual focus as he finally saw the face of his captor.

He stood in front of him grinning jubilantly at his success, admiring his captured prey. It was hard to miss the almost smug satisfaction from under the silver helm. His cape looked a touch dingy from rolling around in the grimy garage, and there was a smudge of grease against one round, flushed cheek. But Mysterion had him pegged from the beginning for the invite out, so it wasn't exactly much surprise who he was up against.

Professor Chaos may have been a lousy villain, known far and wide for his pathetic losing streak and string of off-the-wall ideas, but he knew how to disarm an opponent. It was partly due to a baby-faced charm and beguiling innocence that left defenses lowered, as if someone with such a cherubic face or wide eyes could possibly be capable of any malice. But there was something powerful and dark seething beneath the surface, promising more than just mischief if he ever got the resources and chance to enact any so-called retribution upon the earth. Mysterion had known Professor Chaos all his life, even before either of them took on their respective mantles, so he knew never to trust Professor Chaos to ever play fair or on an even ground, and yet Mysterion still willingly walked right into his trap.

It was common knowledge that Professor Chaos had a strange fascination with Mysterion, so regardless of whatever he might encounter whilst in his clutches, he'd never be in any overt danger. It might have been because they shared a rapport over the years playing the game, though most likely that Mysterion didn't seem to fear anything to the point that he could be pushed to absolute limitations. And that was the thrill of their continued rivalry. So he couldn't hate Professor Chaos because he knew who was under the armor and that this twisted sense of anarchy came from a place of neglect and hurt.

-v4nilah-

Professor Chaos walked around him in circles, admiring his handiwork, which gave Mysterion the opportunity to gain his bearings now that he no longer had to contend with the loss of one of his senses, seeing that he was trussed up with two sets of handcuffs to an engine hoist, probably the last thing installed in his garage before the owners gave up the ghost and abandoned this business venture. Apparently the chain winch had been freshly oiled over to engine pull, which ended up with Mysterion immobilized by his wrists to the chain hook. This at least explained the heavy object he couldn't lift before. In the far corner he could see a set of LED lights linked together with a relay of some sort, though they now lay dark since their use was done with for now. And that solved the mystery regarding the method for that blinding attack from a short distance. The only light now was a hanging lamp hooked onto the engine hoist, offering just enough illumination as the scene required and swinging a little from Mysterion's struggles against his restraints.

"Well, well, well... Mysterion. We meet again," Professor Chaos cooed, drawing Mysterion's attention back to him, and to ensure that interest did not wander, he lifted a finger under his chin to tilt his head up. "And you said I was bad at hide and seek."

Mysterion met his gaze, even from the odd angle into which his head was forced, showing he wasn't the least bit afraid of being trussed up or at Professor Chaos' mercy. The guy harbored a sense of hatred for the world, but every scheme was bent on creating anarchy rather than wholesale destruction. It was never about outright murder, but general casualty generated as a result of mayhem. And even when they had their physical scuffles, Professor Chaos never once used a deadly weapon, always preferring to see his victim suffer and live versus taking a coward's attack from behind. For that alone, Mysterion tended to let him go when his plans were foiled instead of getting him in trouble.

The other part was that eventually he learned how to manipulate people, lure them in because everyone believed Butters to still be the softie who got kicked around. And in some ways, Butters still lived that lie because it was easier for him, because then people would forget him. But Kenny never overlooked Butters, and Mysterion was always right there to trade blows and thwart his schemes. And over the years of their ongoing enmity, Mysterion adapted quickly as Professor Chaos changed, grew stronger. And he tended to take his threats seriously when issued, even if he teased about how inept he was as a villain.

It was all a game, after all. When other kids put away their toys and stopped playing make-believe, they still kept at it, clinging to the roles they had built up. For Kenny, he became more than what he'd been born into, could take on a title other than ‘white trash' or ‘whore,' and he actually had a reason to live and fight. Or at least pretend he had one. Butters, on the other hand, was sick of trying to conform, of behaving himself and yet still getting punished for the most asinine reasons. This was his way of rebelling and it made him feel justified in being bad.

Months of secret fights turned to years and they met up to play these roles, to maybe keep a piece of childhood with them while letting go of life just so they could unleash the pent-up frustrations. Even when the tweens gave way to high school, they still played the game. It wasn't to say that this was exactly a healthy outlet for either of them, because it often ended with blood and bruising that needed excuses the next day, but regardless, it worked for them and they were able to deal with life beyond the masks.

So while Mysterion found himself hung by his wrists, hood falling down and the taste of blood on his lip, he couldn't find it in him to feel defeated or angry just yet. Instead his heart was racing with a sense of anticipation. Because he knew Professor Chaos would ultimately hurt him, but not put him in physical danger. That's how this always went: Butters wanted to hurt Kenny but in a good way that would let out his inner freak. Kenny always responded to that positively, almost encouraging Butters along.

"You won't keep me here for long," Mysterion pointed out, voice confident despite his predicament. "I will get free and then you'll be sorry, Chaos."

Professor Chaos had that look in his eye, one he'd seen so many times before. Under the shade of his helm, the light caught his gaze, giving it a rather menacing glint that might've made some people uncomfortable if not outright nervous. Not Mysterion. Though the first time Professor Chaos debuted his new costume upgrades a couple of years back and gave him that expression, Mysterion did admittedly feel a shiver running down his spine. But who wouldn't when the guy he'd been battling tossed out the cardboard and foil for metal and leather. (Or rather, pleather, since it lacked the distinct cowhide smell.) But the effect was still the same considering, as if he'd graduated from the Busch leagues into the majors.

In fact, it was one of those pleather gloves that dug into Mysterion's chin as Professor Chaos faced him, the grip of two fingers tight. Now Chaos had his attention and laughed right in Mysterion's face. Then he leaned forward so his breath ran hot against a cheek as he whispered, "I'd like to see you try."

Mysterion knew a challenge when he heard one, and scoffed back, "I have before. You never think to strip me of my weapons."

Despite the nature of his so-called curse, Mysterion made his career by being resourceful. Resurrection was nice because it gave him fearlessness in doing this sort of unrewarding work, but it was crap for being an effective means to stop a crime from happening. A bloody smear didn't keep the bad guys in their car from driving off, but a well-placed firecracker would keep them from getting into their car altogether. So while he might be comparable to the likes of Batman, albeit not so well-equipped, Mysterion had a few tricks he used to distract, disarm, or attack. Though by drawing attention to his belted arsenal, he knew it had been a foolish sort of taunt, especially when Professor Chaos' gaze purposefully roved downwards to the accessory in question.

"Well since I have no plans to let you escape tonight, I should thank you for reminding me this time." Professor Chaos let go of Mysterion's face so he could reach down and yank on the belt buckle. There wasn't much of a trick to it; just a click of the plastic catches and the weight of his pouches and straps had it sliding off. Gleefully, Professor Chaos tossed the item just out of sight, black canvas skidding to a dark corner. The whole process ended up making the cuffs dig deeper into Mysterion's wrists, promising bruises later. "Now you are defenseless, peasant."

It was almost rather funny considering the situation. Here Professor Chaos was gloating over disarming Mysterion, as if he could pull out any one of the self-defense items he had stocked and strapped to his belt with booted feet. But what he could do in his current situation was lure Professor Chaos in close enough to strip off the belt, because after all, Professor Chaos failed to secure his legs. And with him well within range, he kicked out, using his abdominal muscles to lift his hips and increase his range of attack. His foot slammed into Professor Chaos' middle, toe sinking into a soft stomach that was devoid of any sort of armor or real cushioning. Mysterion heard the air rushing out in a half-cough as Professor Chaos doubled over. Gloved hands grasped at his ankle in an effort to restrain further movement, but all it did was give Mysterion leverage to throw out his other leg, this time his knee catching Professor Chaos' chin and sending him staggering backwards.

Panting with the exertion, Mysterion spat out some blood that had accumulated from his cut inner cheek and looked at his rival with a challenging glare. "Not defenseless. Do your worst."

Professor Chaos groaned, a hand cradling his chin, the other wrapped around his middle as he hunched over, still recovering from the attack. Mysterion felt a little sore that there wasn't any blood on Professor Chaos' lip, but took satisfaction in the look of bewilderment which slowly melted into a promised wrath later on. "A worthy adversary," he groaned out, gloved fingers massaging at his jaw. And then he darted in for the goods, dropping the injured act to successfully catch Mysterion off guard. Both hands got a grip on his torso a moment before a knee zinged right into the stomach. Now it was Mysterion's turn to gasp and grunt, feeling his innards blossom into a searing knot of pain. He didn't have time to dwell on the agony because Professor Chaos managed to clip him while he recoiled with a punch to the side of his jaw, sending his brains rattling for a moment and opening the cut inside his mouth deeper from the impact.

"I'll have you eat my worst, Mysterion!"

Mysterion coughed as his head swam. Two good knocks to the noggin weren't healthy, and he took a moment to regain his breathing, knowing full well Professor Chaos was watching him, waiting for him to recover. After all, what fulfillment was there in tormenting an opponent who couldn't keep up? "You can eat shit, Chaos," he rasped back, his cheek throbbing from the punch. "And you can't hit for crap. Pansy."

"There's plenty I can do harder than hit." Professor Chaos gave Mysterion a wicked smirk as their gazes met. "But I won't give you the satisfaction so soon."

"Cause you know that if you come any closer, I'll kick your ass," Mysterion shot back, grinning despite the blood that now oozed over his lip. He could have swallowed it back, but found that this was allowing his smile to take on a dangerous air. He rather got off on seeing Professor Chaos waver for a moment, obviously unsure if he really was taking it too far. "I still owe you a few bruises on that pretty face."

"What do you think you can do all tied up, Mysterion?" Professor Chaos spat, trying to recover some of his faltering bravado. And either in foolishness or maybe to spite the obvious threat, he stepped closer anyway.

"You think I would tell you?" Mysterion held himself in check, feeling the blood drip off his lip. He didn't dare make a move otherwise even though he was the one tied up, because Professor Chaos was obviously on edge and aware Mysterion could still outsmart him. So Mysterion was openly but silently daring Professor Chaos to come closer.

"If you're looking to get free, you should rethink that decision," Professor Chaos said, taking another step forward to grab Mysterion's face again, his fingers purposefully digging in. Mysterion could tell Professor Chaos was trying to use the ache left from his punch to reassert control, only the gesture instead left him wide open once more.

-Cobaye-

Mysterion jerked his lower body, using his bound wrists as leverage and wrapping legs tightly around Professor Chaos' waist. His cape was trapped, but offered no cushion as he squeezed his thighs tight and hooked ankles at his lower back. Professor Chaos let go of his face to grab at his hips, realizing they were locked together. And maybe he had wanted things to turn out this way. Their gazes met, both of them breathing hard in a sort of stalemate because he could try to pull away, but not without serious injury to Mysterion. And he wasn't the type to chance that level of torture, even on a rival.

"Who says I want out?"

For a moment, neither said anything. Mysterion could feel Professor Chaos' body all tense under his thighs, trembling hands on his hips. The struggle might have been physical to get this far, but the real fight lay in the connection of their gazes, tension mounting. It was Professor Chaos who broke first with a growling curse before pressing their lips together desperately, blood mingling with saliva.

Mysterion's eyes closed as he felt that kiss intensify, uncaring that the taste was tainted with copper or that the spots sure to bruise were throbbing. He bit down on the invading tongue just hard enough to make him hiss but not enough to drive him away before sucking on the length, trying to keep it captive in his mouth instead of letting it retreat.

It seemed the inevitable conclusion to their rivalry almost a year ago, considering Kenny had been horny since he was a kid, so he wasn't a stranger to tension turning from violence to lust. But for Butters, it had been a much more confusing and scary experience, discovering the urge to kiss his adversary in the midst of some monologue he was reciting, and trying not to break character during grappling because he'd sprouted a boner. At first he could pretend maybe Kenny didn't notice, even though he was aware of where his hands were falling. Or maybe Kenny was just being polite and acting as if nothing were different.

Butters finally gave in to the temptation, frustration and loss of control bringing everything to the fore. Kenny did what he always did – just rolled with it. The first time was followed by the game being put on hiatus, both fearing maybe they'd broken some unspoken rule about fraternizing with the enemy. And for months life went on until Butters approached Kenny with new terms to their fantasy.

Terms that Kenny was more than willing to oblige.

Thus began a new chapter in easing the stress from their lives, the escapism going into more adult exploration. It was no longer about hitting someone until they were spent, but about trying to wrest control and hold it until both were spent. The dynamic of their roles had changed and they exchanged innuendo instead of threats, their fights ending with kissing or fucking, and the lines of their dichotomy were blurred over. Long since had they stopped trying to simply attack each other and pummel with fists and feet as more often they'd just don their costumes, make up some excuse to chase each other, and they'd fuck till dawn. That was why Butters still kept the costume and the alter ego at all. He got to be a different person and Kenny liked it, even encouraging it.

That's where they were now. Threats had turned into shameless flirting and now Kenny was trapped in an old garage that looked like something you'd see in a slasher film, trussed up and wrapped intimately around a guy who was practically devouring his mouth.

This cat and mouse game they had going on would never not be erotic. It was always a chore trying to explain how they both had mysterious injuries, constantly in need of lame excuses. At least, for Butters that was the case; Kenny knew defying his parents added a layer to his fun. And considering Kenny's home life was less than stellar, he only had his friends to worry about lest they make the connection between the two unlikely rivals. But inconvenience aside, they kept doing this anyway, in spite of the stares and off-color comments that hit closer to the truth than their closest friends even realized.

Professor Chaos moaned loudly into Mysterion's mouth, hands sliding from hips to ass, shamelessly squeezing because it wasn't as if Mysterion could stop him. He was breathing hard through his nose, whining as he grinded their lower bodies together, though finding little purchase considering Mysterion was just sort of dangling and had the misfortune of swinging however Professor Chaos moved. He didn't want to let the kiss end because the more he sucked on his tongue, the more Professor Chaos fought for control and his dick throbbed with growing arousal, fueled by the adrenaline that still surged from their fighting.

With his legs secure around Professor Chaos, Mysterion let his lower body wriggle, arching up just enough so that his groin managed to grind against Professor Chaos' stomach. And he felt fabric shift with a soft body underneath. Butters had just turned sixteen and yet he was still supple as he'd been as a kid, as if he'd never shed that baby fat or lose that disarmingly boyish face. It made him bruise a little too easily, but Professor Chaos demanded to be hurt the same way Mysterion did so he wasn't planning to be gentle in making his arousal known.

Professor Chaos was finding himself melting against Mysterion's chokehold and was internally kicking himself for letting his resolve weaken so easily. But Mysterion wanted this as badly as he did so he dug his fingernails in deeper into Mysterion's backside, sure to leave angry prints had there not been layers of fabric in the way.

Mysterion hissed, jerking away from the kiss as his spine arched. His expression was tight, teeth clenched. Then he was glaring at Professor Chaos, chest heaving with his breaths. "Untie me..."

"Why should I give you what you want?" Professor Chaos murmured against Mysterion's lips, his fingernails digging in harder and their bodies pressed so close that every intake of air felt tight as lungs were trapped in that limited space between bodies.

"So I can beat the ever-loving snot out of that smug face," he shot back, voice quickly losing the hard edge out of pure arousal, because he happened to look at Professor Chaos and saw the excitement and need reflected back.

This was way beyond their control. The first time had been desperate kissing followed by a sloppy blowjob in the U-Store It parking lot. And after Butters delivered the terms of how this game could progress with what they'd done and the lust adding a new dimension to their fighting, sex soon followed – dirty and satisfying. It could have been about Kenny just pinning poor helpless Butters against a wall and fucking him hoarse, or sneaking into each others' bedrooms to silently screw under the covers, but instead it was Professor Chaos doing the pinning, because Mysterion could give him the control of the situation. Mysterion just never could give it up the way one would assume Butters might, even if he wanted it the other way around. They needed to beat the crap out of each other first, getting off on the pain and adrenaline, turned on by the throb of bruises and the taste of blood.

"That's not much incentive to set you free," Professor Chaos pointed out.

Mysterion felt Professor Chaos' hands loosen and slide over the waistband of his tights, and his face colored at the touch. For all intents and purposes, wearing what essentially boiled down to dancewear as his hero attire wasn't exactly logical. On the other hand, he'd done less and less crime-fighting lately and more of this game with Professor Chaos, so he couldn't exactly complain as the elastic of the tights and the underwear that more or less protected his junk was tugged down, exposing his bare buttocks to the cool air. As well as the possessive hands.

"Maybe you can perform a little trade for your freedom?" came the suggestion, fingers gloved in pleather attempting to scratch over his ass as the cheeks were pulled apart.

Mysterion knew exactly what Professor Chaos was asking, and if he wanted feeling in his fingers again tonight, he really had no choice but to comply. So with his face burning and jaw clenched, he gave the tiniest of nods before easing up on the grip his thighs had around Professor Chaos' waist.

It was ultimately a silent battle of wills, waiting for any sign of betrayal even though none would come if their mutual goal was to be achieved tonight. Then Professor Chaos let go with one hand to reach into a pocket, withdrawing the tiny handcuff key. He was forced to break the gaze just so he could fit it to one cuff, the click freeing Mysterion's left arm, but not his wrist from the cuffs. Mysterion didn't say a word, instead letting his groan of approval do all the talking. He kept his legs around Professor Chaos, even as much as it hindered his reach, but it kept his full weight from pulling on the cuff still restraining his right arm. And after a bit of fumbling, both hands were free and suddenly Professor Chaos was left saddled with the weight of a hero clinging by his legs.

Professor Chaos staggered with a surprised expression, as if he hadn't expected to find himself weighed down by another body, but Mysterion reached up and grabbed the chain he'd been cuffed to, sparing them both an awkward fall to the ground, the impact most likely hurting Mysterion the most. Once Professor Chaos was balanced out, Mysterion warily started to unhook his legs, moving them slowly as he watched Professor Chaos' face relax. Rare was the opportunity to be given clemency like this, and he didn't want to waste his chance so he made no sudden movements as he planted his feet back on the floor, the cuffs clanking heavily from his upraised hands.

But then he clipped Professor Chaos' jaw with a quick punch, sending him back, the loosened end of the cuff managing to clank against the metal plating on the side of his helm. It was with some satisfaction that Mysterion could take this cheap shot, but he let Professor Chaos have two earlier, so it only seemed fair to give back. Ignoring the fact that his ass was all but hanging out from having his bottoms pulled down, not to mention aroused, he dashed after Professor Chaos, tackling him to the concrete floor.

If he thought better about it, Professor Chaos would have denied Mysterion his request instead of bargaining, and made him beg for it. Mysterion rather enjoyed the impact of their bodies together, a sort of primal satisfaction in the discomfort of the skirmish instead of just giving in straightaway to the hormonal drive for sex. Not to mention the adrenaline had been wearing off and rather than letting the endorphin rush fade, it was better to reignite the battle and have another go, getting dirty and crass all the while. Professor Chaos groaned under Mysterion's weight and tangle of capes, uttering out a few curses as he recovered. Mysterion knew he was allow to get a little rough, especially since his rival's helmet had been reinforced with some foam on the inside to minimize any sort of head injury, which came in handy considering what sort of damage there might have been to his noggin against the concrete just now.

Mysterion took a moment to regard his opponent, taking advantage of his recovery, and realized just how easily he could haul back and smash his fist into Professor Chaos' face, to pummel him into a bloody stain. The urge was there, if he allowed himself to get caught up in the moment, but that wasn't the nature of their rivalry, as much as it had mutated in the past year. Instead, Mysterion angled his next punch, decking him in the apple of his cheek, where his knuckles would glance off that softness with only a mild bruise at best, and there would be no further impact of his skull to the ground. They were only out to hurt each other, not maim and cripple. What fun would there be if one ended up in the hospital before they were done?

Professor Chaos groaned from his position on the ground and managed to rear his arm back enough, though could only pull off what amounted to a slap against Mysterion's face considering he lacked the momentum of movement with his elbow pressed against concrete. But there was enough force to turn Mysterion's head, and the material of his glove made a rather gratifying sound against bare skin. Mysterion's cheek went hot from the impact, and he could tell from the glint in Professor Chaos' eye that the blow had already left an imprint on his cheek. While it was Mysterion's turn to be dazed for a moment, Professor Chaos sat up enough to gain some range and this time threw a follow-through punch with his other arm. This pushed Mysterion off and gave Professor Chaos the opening to switch their positions, pinning Mysterion's arms above his head with a tight grip, leaning in so his full body weight kept him down.

"Had enough?"

Mysterion strained against the hold. If he really put his weight behind it, he could have broken that grip by rolling his lower body. But he didn't, and found that the angle of Professor Chaos' body to his kept him from getting leverage to rear up his torso so he could headbutt Professor Chaos the way he wanted. Panting heavily, he remained tense under the grip, unwavering in his glare.

"Never fucking enough...!" he shot back through clenched teeth.

Taking this as a reluctant concede to his victory, Professor Chaos, equally as breathless, threatened with, "I will have your ass before this night is over."

Resuming his earlier claim of the spoils, Professor Chaos closed the distance between them. He bypassed the lips altogether or press his mouth against Mysterion's aching jaw. This momentarily disarmed Mysterion as the feel of hot breath gave him a rush of lust and arousal, eyes actually closing with a groan. And as if this were the opening Professor Chaos sought, he sank his teeth into skin while simultaneously rolling his hips against him, earning a rather satisfyingly strangled noise from Mysterion.

"You're going to be begging for me..." Professor Chaos promised hotly.

Mysterion's body arched upwards at the shock of that bite, never mind that his mind was still dazed from the recent turn of events that got him in this rather compromising position. Or it could have been from the multiple blows to the head. "You keep giving me concussions...there will be no having of anything, Professor Chaos," was his breathless reply.

"You know I can get carried away," Professor Chaos murmured, his voice riddled with lust as his mouth trailed from jaw to the sliver of neck exposed just above the dark cowl. It was there he bit and sucked, earning another lustful reaction that left Mysterion writhing under his body, as well as vibrate against his lips. Professor Chaos let go of his hands for a moment but made sure to pin his hips down tight with his own. And he reached back, thumb hooking into the waistband of Mysterion's tights once more.

"We had an accord, you and I. Now you're no longer chained up, yet I feel cheated because I didn't get something in fair trade," Professor Chaos pointed out, half-expecting another punch just for releasing Mysterion's hands.

Not that Mysterion didn't contemplate doing just that, however he did have a sense of fair play, especially when it came to this particular game. He mentally told himself that this didn't necessarily concede victory to Professor Chaos, but rather that he was fulfilling his end of the bargain. So taking Professor Chaos' cue, he squirmed to tease and estimate just how much movement his lower body was allowed, then reached down to assist with shucking off the tights and underwear. Luckily his cape was trapped beneath their combined weight, which meant his bare ass wasn't going to touch the rather grimy floor, something Mysterion was rather grateful to avoid altogether. Of course, this process required cooperation from Professor Chaos, namely getting him to lift his hips just enough so he could slide everything down and maintain some freedom of movement to lift his legs and leave everything bunched up about his calves.

Now Mysterion was rather exposed, the low lighting of the single bulb not exactly a spotlight on his semi-erection, but Professor Chaos certainly had the best angle to view Mysterion's lower body with open appreciation.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that's meant for me," he chuckled before lowering his body to trap Mysterion in place, lest he get the grand idea of attempting to escape. Not that such a thing was possible since it meant Mysterion would have to hobble bare-assed out of the garage. Then again, Mysterion did have pride, both as a man and a hero, so Professor Chaos could gloat at his compromised position.

"We both know that's not the case," Mysterion returned, voice a little bit rough. Now that he had open movement of his hands despite the weight of the cuffs still clapped to his wrists, he reached up, gloved fingers trailing the work Professor Chaos put into his helm. Mysterion allowed his face to soften a bit, hoping to guide Professor Chaos into a sense of false security, but his goal ultimately was to reach the downy hair layered over the lip of the helm. He gave Professor Chaos a few soft strokes, waiting until his eyes closed, and then he got his grip and yanked back hard. And with the pale column of throat now exposed between jaw and green cowl of his cape, Mysterion returned the favor of a bite, teeth close to an Adams apple as it vibrated with Professor Chaos' discomforted sounds.

Professor Chaos felt his eyes roll into the back of his head at the bite. He dug his fingers into Mysterion's sides as the groan grew into cry since Mysterion wasn't exactly letting go just yet and the pain built into something quite pleasurable. Hips jerked hard against Mysterion's, almost begging with his lower half to keep going. So Mysterion wrapped his mouth as far as it could reach around the curve of flesh, sucking hard on the spot where he bit, as if he were trying to drink the sounds that hummed under his lips. And he pulled back, leaving a wet spot on Professor Chaos' skin, both of them panting for the effort.

"And I thought you were the one going to make me beg..."

"Shut the fuck up," Professor Chaos demanded, groaning into Mysterion's mouth a moment later as he kissed him hard again. Both gloved hands slid from the sides with a scrape of pleather cracked from use, pushing up under Mysterion's top to grope at his chest, feeling warmth radiate even through the synthetic material.

Mysterion was still keen on keeping the playing field even and was fumbling with the front of Professor Chaos' pants, mostly to avoid an unfortunate grind of zipper against his bare dick. Unlike Mysterion's penchant for wearing tights, Professor Chaos was a bit more practical in his costumes, which meant Mysterion had to struggle with a button and zipper while his hand were still covered in rubber-tipped utility gloves, all while his rival's hips kept squirming. It was the sort of handicap he had dealt with before and knew precisely how to undress his adversary through practice and patience. Not that either of them had the latter in great supply at that moment. But still, Mysterion allowed Professor Chaos to play with his chest and dominate the kiss while his full attention was on opening those pants and getting them pushed quick enough so that the next time Professor Chaos' lower body pressed down, it was going to be the brush of naked flesh meeting. Neither was sure exactly who had groaned first once that contact had been made, only that there was an echo of mutual pleasure.

Some occasions, they did manage to completely strip away all clothing, excepting of course that they always kept the masks. Even though they already knew the alter egos behind the capes, taking the mask off would turn Mysterion into Kenny, just like removing the helm changed Professor Chaos into plain old Butters. And the reason for their frantic fights turned fucking would become this awkward fumbling of intimacy. It wasn't as if they didn't fuck outside of the roleplay, and sex as Butters and Kenny was somewhat comforting, but there was something decidedly lacking in terms of excitement and rush that only this sort of game could provide.

Professor Chaos had to pull away for the moment, fumbling with the zipper that ran down the length of his top. It was a testament and another reminder of how practical his out ensemble had been, giving Mysterion a brief respite so he could admire the thought that had gone into the overall design, as well as how handy Butters could be with a sewing machine. The top easily slid off his shoulders, pale chest exposed. This was the body of a boy who'd been prohibited to act in sports and lagged a little at the end of the group when running laps in gym. It wasn't to say that Butters was particularly lazy, just that he had never been athletic, and more often than not just sort of clung to the fringes during dodgeball season. But Mysterion liked watching his rival expose himself, those flaws on display so he could touch them. Well, not really, since he was still wearing gloves, but the texture of rough cloth and rubber against bare skin was shown appreciation by the change in Professor Chaos' expression.

Professor Chaos' cape blanketed over them, spilling over pale shoulders and the curve of his ass, and Mysterion shivered as could feel the edge of the fabric slide against the hairs on his bare legs. And they were both still breathing unevenly, bodies aching with the new imprint of bruises and heady intensity of arousal. For now they just gazed at each other, relishing this moment despite the chill of their chosen battleground and the hum of that single buzzing light.

Mysterion felt as if he could see behind the domineering facade to Butters, to that soft teen who kept fucking surprising him. When did Butters stop being so innocent? When did he crave sex with such ferocity that it made even Kenny blush? Mysterion's hands lifted from fondling Butters' chest absently to his face, managing to slip just under the edges of that helm. His gloved fingers stroked along Professor Chaos' cheeks and jaw, still seeing that boy looking out at him, the eyes that screamed either for retribution or for love. There really was anger in Butters, that much was obvious from the coloring of bruises and the blood on his lip, but it laid beneath that sweet surface, rippling in a way only visible from the right angle. Mysterion could see it now, like a monster peeking out from behind that beguiling visage: Professor Chaos wasn't weak. Neither was Butters.

Professor Chaos' breathing sped up considerably, just observing the way Mysterion's eyes stared up at him, a darkness there that went beyond color and shadow. This was the bond they shared, that went beyond silly costumes and forced scenarios that were probably a little too kinky for a couple of teenage boys to engage in. Whatever haunted Kenny somehow matched or complimented Butters, like a shared pain or an intangible link. As Mysterion, he saw right through him yet didn't tell him this villain shtick was childish. Just meeting his gaze in that moment, regardless of their state of undress, vindicated Butters for alleviating his stress for a little violence and a lot of lust. It normalized this whole process so he could wake up tomorrow with his new bruises and not feel like a freak.

Professor Chaos tried to speak but his breath had caught in his throat, because Mysterion was still touching him, the gloves warm and the texture rough. Butters' eyes flitted closed, breaking the moment, his gloved hands on Mysterion's chest to brace himself while he resumed rolling his hips, teasingly rubbing their hardening cocks together.

This action brought Mysterion back to the moment, body jerking up at the warm friction, a soft sound escaping despite his better judgment. And then his thighs were opening, hips rocking back up so he could feel Professor Chaos grind against him, wanting their bodies closer with that carnal sort of hunger building low in his abdomen.

"Tell me...what you're after," he growled, as if they were still playing their roles instead of resigning themselves to desire.

"I already told you, Mysterion," Professor Chaos replied, breath hitching as Mysterion went along with his hip movements. "You're not afraid of me and that draws me to you like a moth to a flame."

"Why would I be afraid of you?" he asked, voice growing softer. "You can't hurt me."

"Maybe that's why I crave these nights so much, because you can't be hurt. But I have to try…" Professor Chaos tilted his head to the side to lick and suck along Mysterion's jaw, feeling some missed stubble at the juncture where it curved up to his ear. This close, Professor Chaos could taste grime and sweat, knowing they were both positively filthy. Yet he sighed in contentment because this taste was familiar: not the dust that filled his nostrils or the slick tang of grease and old gasoline, but the distinct, salty odor of the body pinned beneath him.

"Maybe that's why I encourage you." Mysterion's eyes finally sliding closed now that his neck was receiving a full assault. "And maybe if you try hard enough, you can hurt me..."

"How would you suggest I do that?" Professor Chaos asked curiously, his hands sliding along the contours of Mysterion's chest.

Even without looking, he could feel the bumps and ridges of old scars, some more vicious than others. Professor Chaos easily accepted the disfigurements because it added to the allure of their fantasy, though a couple he could smugly claim were his own handiwork. Still, Mysterion breathed in sharply at the texture of a gloved finger grazing over a more tender mark, momentarily recalling with absurd clarity just what had caused it. Butters had asked once about the scars and earned outright hostility for the inquisitiveness, and thus a lesson was learned not to pry because this was Kenny's secret. But rather than be put off, Butters became intrigued, and found as Professor Chaos he could touch all he wanted where Butters usually felt too shy to attempt.

"You'll figure it out. You've always been so damn smart, Chaos." It was a genuine compliment. After all, who else could incapacitate a hero with such tactical aptitude?

Mysterion's fingers rubbed over Professor Chaos' jaw slowly, coaxing those eyes open again and rewarding him with a lopsided smirk. "What do you want, Chaos?" There was the question again, dancing in that clash of wills.

"I want you," Professor Chaos said softly, an uncharacteristically high-pitched moan falling from his lips shortly after the admission. He could easily take this time to catch Mysterion off-guard and beat him within an inch of his life, but they never were here to actually injure each other.

Mysterion smirked, blue eyes filled with a sense of hunger. Now their game had finally changed, the banter taking on more sensual tones, and the needy parts of them peeking past the masks. He reached down, rubbing his fingers over the surprising length of his adversary. "How bad?"

Professor Chaos' breath hitched in his throat at the touch, the rough fabric of the work glove scraping across his dick and the rubbery tips dragging with an intense friction. The caress across Mysterion's chest turned into a finger-digging grip as he lifted his hips to thrust against his hand.

"I think you can feel how bad…" he gasped before he shifted his weight.

First with one hand and then the other, Professor Chaos bit into the fingers of his gloves, peeling them off and spitting each one to the side where his top lay, almost as if he were giving Mysterion his own personal yet hurried striptease. "You've always been so damn smart, Mysterion," he muttered with a smirk, scraping short fingernails down his chest with enough pressure that they caught on the more prominent scars and left angry red lines behind.

Mysterion arched up, hand inadvertently squeezing at Professor Chaos' cock. "You should…beg...for my ass..."

Professor Chaos' face pinched at the pressure, a jolt of pleasure shooting along his spine. "Fuck," he breathed out, trying to suppress a groan. "I thought you were supposed to be begging for me…"

Mysterion's smirk returned, thumb and pointer stroking faster, dragging flesh along as he kept up the pressure. "Hero wins tonight... But you'll still get the spoils of battle..."

"Fuck... Fuck," Professor Chaos groaned against Mysterion's touch and his fingers were digging in so deep that he'd be surprised if there weren't more bruises later appearing along that thin chest. "I want you so bad, Mysterion...! Wanna put my cock in you and fuck you so hard you can't walk for a week..!" His trembling, needy voice filled the dark interior, almost echoing if it weren't for the stacks of discarded and corroded machinery stacked against the walls.

The point was made regardless, and Mysterion's body thrummed with the sound of Professor Chaos' tone, relishing in his absolute victory and turned on so much that his breath came out in an answering shudder. Then he leaned up, whispering hotly against the crevice of the helmet that covered his ear. "Your prize is in the second pouch…"

Professor Chaos nodded and shimmied off of Mysterion, stumbling with his pants around his ankles as he shuffled over to where he'd tossed Mysterion's utility belt. It seemed almost like poor planning on Professor Chaos' part to rely upon Mysterion to bring the goods, but at least Mysterion could turn his head and watch Professor Chaos fumble bare-assed and aroused for something he could have easily just stowed in his pocket. It just cemented the ideal of triumph despite being on his back, successfully humiliating his opponent for another night.

-Cobaye-

Eventually Professor Chaos found the flap that held the necessary provisions and tossed over a condom and a half-used bottle of lube to Mysterion, before shambling back with his bare cock bobbing openly and a rather hilariously pinched grimace. Mysterion couldn't help but laugh at the sight, absently setting everything up to the left and well within reach while Professor Chaos was climbing back on top of him, clearly not enjoying the joke.

"Just for that, I'm not gonna ride you. I'm gonna fuck you real good and hard," Professor Chaos muttered, voice dark and thick, as if he were attempting to reclaim his menacing stance despite the blush that colored his cheeks and neck from having to fetch what they needed. Yet before Mysterion could continue with his humor at how ridiculously adorable Professor Chaos looked in that moment, his mouth was trapped in a heated kiss, bare hands gripping his face and hips pinning him rather persistently to the floor, almost forcing him to submit.

"As you should…" Mysterion murmured once there was space enough to breathe, the words slurring directly against those moist lips. And rather than easily surrender, as was expected, he initiated a deeper kiss and began to suck on his tongue, using teeth liberally. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, Mysterion rocked his lower body upwards, grinding against him with an equal fervor.

There was a moment where it seemed the earlier battle for dominance was going to reignite anew, with Professor Chaos groaning as his tongue swept through to claim territory despite the harsh suction. But Mysterion's mouth opened wider, trying to breathe around Professor Chaos' tongue. He reached over to his rival's wrist, attempting to push his hand toward the lube, because even though he got his enemy to beg for it didn't mean Professor Chaos could slack off and merely enjoy the kiss when there was an ass requiring a proper stretch now. Mysterion knew how big the other was, and how he could easily keep his promise to make it hurt, leaving him limping.

Professor Chaos smirked against Mysterion's lips once his fingers brushed the bottle, but didn't bother breaking the kiss. Instead his finger blindly grappled for the plastic container, and he laid it atop Mysterion's stomach, arching his body so their lips could still touch while both hands popped the top and poured out a liberal amount, leaving it to pool on Mysterion's navel. And much like a painter, Professor Chaos spread his fingers through the mess, fully coating fingers before pressing two inside him, stretching and massaging Mysterion in a decidedly teasing manner.

Mysterion mumbled an affirmative against Professor Chaos' mouth; as if he hadn't been penetrated in a long time, feet still shackled together by his tights, but knees bent so his hips could tilt up, opening himself further. And maybe in a way he hadn't really, since Kenny rarely allowed anyone to top him. It seemed Butters in his guise as a villain was the one exception he really looked forward to. So despite his protests and stern threats, he always wanted this as badly as his rival. It didn't matter how much pain he'd be in afterward; he fucking thrilled in giving Professor Chaos power over his body.

Pulling back from his lips and giving Mysterion a smirk, Professor Chaos worked his fingers in deeper. They'd done this easily a half-dozen times by now, ever since that first crazy night gone awry. And even now, a part of him saw it as a gift, something he could take home later when he turned back into Butters and curled up in bed, pretending his parents weren't arguing in the next room over. Right now he had the control over someone else, and could let Mysterion know when he was ready to fuck him. But first, he wanted to hear him beg, to turn the tables and wrest a sliver of conquest to savor later. And he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of having a cock in him until he did so. So Professor Chaos withdrew his fingers to slide through that puddle on Mysterion's stomach once more, this time penetrating with three. But it didn't end just there, adding to the torture by scissoring him apart and crooking his fingers in a particular manner he learned from practice so he could rub Mysterion's prostate.

The reaction Mysterion had in response the stimulation was exactly as anticipated, body arching upwards, face flushed under his mask, and a sharp whimpering cry bubbling from his throat. The pleasured sound was so unlike how he normally sounded during sex, his hands twisting in Professor Chaos' cape. "Shit...!"

"You want it, Mysterion?" Professor Chaos kept rubbing against that sensitive nodule, teasing him and absolutely drinking in the sounds and expression the hero was making underneath him. "Beg," he growled, spreading fingers again, teasing him but not to the point of actual pain.

Mysterion gasped, eyes clenching shut. "You...devious bastard!"

"A supervillain would be nothing if not evil," Professor Chaos retorted, keeping stilling his fingers inside him, but still pressed just against that spot which was driving Mysterion insane. There was a sadistic glee in watching his face contort and flush, to hear his breath come out in frantic bursts. "Fucking beg," he growled again, his voice getting dangerously low.

"If...if I don't?" Mysterion asked, traitorous body twitching with every fucking touch, yet still unable to open his eyes for the waves of pleasure suffusing his nervous system.

"Then I'll tie you back up and leave you here as is, not only naked and exposed, but denied the opportunity to come," Professor Chaos replied, voice calm. It didn't matter that he lacked the ability to get Mysterion strung back up, let alone hooked onto the engine hoist to be left dangling and helpless as threatened. But Professor Chaos still had power over Mysterion's body in that moment, slowly starting to retract his fingers and watching the fleeting moment of panic cross the hero's face under his mask.

It was definitely more the threat of denial than of physical impairment that made Mysterion jerk, spilling lube off his navel and down his side, lust far from a good mindset when making rational decisions. Part of him knew Professor Chaos was bluffing, and yet everything was a knee jerk reaction because his body was craving satisfaction and would not be denied. "Fuck!" he cried out, body tightening in momentary panic. "Shit, no...no don't pull out! Fuck me...shit, just fuck me!"

"That's a good boy," Professor Chaos cooed, smirking. And he rewarded Mysterion with a long, slow kiss before leaning back to grab the condom, his fingers very lazily stretching him now. It wasn't as if he was bored, but he was getting off on Mysterion's reactions. He wanted to tease him more, hoping he'd come the hardest he ever had.

Mysterion's internal muscles were tightening around his fingers though, and he didn't think he could pull out even if he wanted to. Professor Chaos gestured to the condom with his eyes, not able to do much at the moment with only one free hand. Though it gave him a sort of rush to realize what it would feel like to have that pressure wrapped around him once he penetrated his body, and he bit his lower lip to suppress the groan that threatened to come with that mental image.

"I can't very well fuck you if I have fingers in you, now can I? So calm down, hero..."

Mysterion turned his head, shivering as he forced his body to relax. "Don't you dare...do that again... Or I'll fucking plant my fist in your teeth, Chaos," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed that he managed to get that kind of reaction out of him.

"Not like I'm able to do much of anything right now but finger-fuck you..." Professor Chaos cleared his throat and gestured to the condom once more. "So are you going to help me out with the rubber or am I fucking you raw? Cause this could go either way, Mysterion..."

It took Mysterion a moment to get the gist, feeling three fingers still slide in and out of his body and Professor Chaos holding the condom with all the delicacy of a precious jewel on display. And he sat up with a harsh breath, his thin body arching as abdominal muscles pulled him upright while still keeping his hips angled. Mysterion snatched the condom, glad for the rubber tips of his gloves so he could tear the foil with otherwise trembling hands and pour out the contents. A saner man would have removed the gloves at this point to make the job easier, but this aroused, Mysterion was never of a sound mind, and instead worked the lubed rubber carefully, his grip a little slicker now. Besides, the gloves were still trapped in place by the handcuffs that still swung heavily from each wrist. And with utter concentration despite being contorted and still being fingered, he rolled it down the full length of that upright cock. Even through the layers of fabric and latex, Mysterion could feel it, hot and twitching under his fingers.

Professor Chaos tried hard to keep his breathing under control, just to maintain composure, but with Mysterion's fingers gliding over his cock, it was hard. He closed his eyes and grunted as the latex was finally rolled down to the base, finally letting loose with a hard exhale. Mysterion really loved that that façade was dropping away, that Professor Chaos was practically melting now that they were in a position to consummate all this pent up frustration and just let it all go. Professor Chaos' fingers left Mysterion's body, the hand swiping over his belly to gather what was left of the lube he'd poured out earlier. And he slicked it over his dick, his breath taking on a different cadence with the onset of anticipation. Mysterion just laid back, enjoying the show a moment before Professor Chaos grabbed his hips with a sure grip, only then did he tense up, the buildup finally reaching a peak. And in one movement that was all momentum, his cock slid up against and then into his ass.

They both held their breath; Mysterion laid out on the floor, this time his fingers curling into his own cape as he was swiftly filled up. Someone was making a soft sound, breathy and quiet, and it took Mysterion a moment to figure out it was coming from his own throat, the beginnings of a pleading whine because neither of them was moving yet. But perhaps it was for the best since Professor Chaos was well-endowed, possibly the biggest cock he ever had the pleasure to intimately know. So maybe he was making a mild protest about being taken so quickly, never mind that once Professor Chaos gave a small thrust he could feel the tip of his rival hit his insides, leaving him arched off the floor. And that was enough to make him stop giving a fuck about anything except needing Professor Chaos to fuck him.

The noise Mysterion made still managed to capture Professor Chaos' attention, pausing as he was still most of the way inside, yet not fully sheathed. "Too fast?" Professor Chaos muttered, feeling a twinge of doubt stir. Villain or not, he was quite aware of what he could do to a lover and even still allowed a sliver of Butters to peek out with nothing but concern for his friend.

Mysterion laughed, the gesture making his anus open up, earning a tiny gasp from Professor Chaos, and he shook his head. Professor Chaos hadn't meant to go into him so fast, but he was so relaxed that it was easy for him to go in deeper. Sensing that all was well with the moment, he thought about taking it a little slower, only to remember the earlier banter and the challenged issued. Mysterion wanted to be hurt and so that meant Professor Chaos was allowed to be a little rough.

Just as he started to pick up speed, delving in a bit deeper, Mysterion reached up, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and jerking Professor Chaos' head down. "Quit...holding out on me..."

Professor Chaos didn't have to do or say anything after that, and instead just started rolling his hips and letting his momentum take over. "Fuck, Mysterion..." he groaned as he fought the hand in his hair, feeling a few strands pull loose. He held on to Mysterion's hips, curling his fingers under so they cupped his ass, prying apart the cheeks again with nails digging in, almost claiming ownership.

One particularly sharp thrust left Mysterion's head rolling back as he cried out. Professor Chaos was in so deep that it hurt, but it was a good sort of pain, which made his insides ache beautifully. He couldn't stop the sounds that spilled out, going absolutely crazy from being impaled so utterly. Only Professor Chaos made him feel this level of abuse and still find pleasure in it.

Of course Professor Chaos was reveling in the way Mysterion made noises as he completely came unraveled. Sex had a means of getting to him when straight pain failed to do so, but it was a two-way street, and for Professor Chaos it was about how hot and tight Mysterion felt, legs almost folded to his chest and face utterly flushed and damp as the pleasure hit him harder. It was taking its toll on them both, and Professor Chaos still wanted to push it further. He sped up his thrusts and grabbed Mysterion's hips to angle their bodies so he was hitting his prostate. Mysterion's abdominal muscles tensed before he started pushing his hips back, as if he could drive Professor Chaos in deeper, as if it were physically possible to take him in fully. He would be gloriously sore afterward and honestly did not care about the consequences. Even if he walked home hobbling from this encounter, never once would he grouse at school or act suspicious about how well-fucked he was. Besides, there was something so utterly erotic about being used in such a humiliating way, that the guy who was his nemesis would hold him open and pound his ass until he was begging. Butters wouldn't do this. But Professor Chaos did.

And Mysterion wanted it.

"No matter how many times I fuck you," Professor Chaos panted out, bending his body over so he could whisper against Mysterion's skin, "You always feel so fucking tight." He groaned as if to punctuate that fact and drove his hips against him even faster, flesh smacking rather wetly.

Mysterion cried out at that, feeling so fucking good. "Keep...fucking me!" he demanded, voice losing its normal growl, instead now thin and desperate. He was begging, needing to come from this, wanting to feel the climax from such an intense buildup that still kept going. "Fuck me hard!"

"What do you think I'm doing," Professor Chaos said rather than asked, feeling sweat drip down his brow. He plunged his body against Mysterion's as hard as he could manage given the angle and his soft stature, still holding him in the same delightfully humiliating way.

Mysterion felt like he was going insane, head angled back, thin body writhing and arching with every thrust. His cock lay against his belly, precum dripping in slick beads around his navel, which still glistened from the smear of lube clinging there. "I need to come! Make me...fucking come!"

It was a crass demand, but one Professor Chaos was going to oblige. "I plan on it," Professor Chaos muttered under his breath, leaning down to kiss the breath out of Mysterion. He attacked his lips like he had earlier and he swore when he pulled off to breathe, his lungs protesting anything longer than two seconds. And since there was no room to kiss as ardently as they had before, no chance for tongues to battle as they swallowed each other's moans, Professor Chaos opted for an underhanded approach, letting go of one cheek to grasp Mysterion's dick and stroke, glad there was still lube on his fingers so that he could move swift and tight, squeezing another delicious whimper from those abused lips.

Every sound was desperately loosed against Professor Chaos' mouth, and he jerked physically once his cock was stroked. And needing more than fabric to cling to, his hands switched suddenly to Professor Chaos' bare shoulders, clutching at him as his climax crept up, a frantic whine building in his throat as he could feel it coil and build.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! I'm...!"

"Come for me, Mysterion..." Professor Chaos urged breathily, his lust-deep voice vibrating against his Mysterion's lips a moment before his tongue darted out to taste the frenzied breath, almost as if the desperate vibrations were something to be savored. He kept up the pace with his hips and his hand, letting himself whimper and whine in response as he felt himself on the verge too.

That was all the invitation Mysterion needed, not the hushed urging but the tiny noises Professor Chaos was trying to hide as they both neared their limits. And his orgasm was nearly as violent as the sex. Mysterion bucked up off the floor, his cry reaching the rafters as he came, ejaculating into Professor Chaos' hand and spilling over onto his stomach. In that moment, he was aware of little else other than the thickness that still drove into him, the world disintegrating to nothing but that point of contact as his nerves jolted with intense orgasm.

Professor Chaos watched it all unfold, seeing his rival come undone before his eyes, and he let out a litany of curses as he felt all of Mysterion around him, impossibly hot and tight. As soon as he had clenched round his cock, he was a goner. Professor Chaos, much as he had imagined before, was not trapped in place despite the movement of his hips, and he could only toss his head back as he lost the momentum and the spectacular sight of seeing Mysterion spent beneath him. But it mattered little because he was coming against his will, as if he had yielded to the superior power and lost an undeclared battle of wills.

After a long moment where he wasn't sure if his eyes were open or if he had blanked out altogether from the force of climax, Professor Chaos finally lowered Mysterion's hips, fingers aching from the grip he'd sustained, the other hands smearing a trail of sticky lines lazily over a hip. Professor Chaos sagged over his body, still buried deep inside him as he softened, nothing coming out of his mouth but a breathless, garbled curse or two.

It made Mysterion smile, just feeling the ebbing throb of Professor Chaos' cock, already coming down, but not in any shape to move just yet. But he got to witness his opponent lose control, and that was all the victory he needed tonight. So he just lay there, fading in and out of a state of pure bliss, basking in the sweaty, messy aftermath while he waited for Professor Chaos to join him. He might have slipped off altogether into a light doze if not for the aching throb of his body finally protesting the abuse. And then there was the weight of Professor Chaos atop him, panting and muttering things which probably echoed Mysterion's thoughts.

Mysterion reached up, limb feeling rather heavy, yet still finding enough strength to do so as he touched damp, blonde hair in what would be an otherwise affectionate gesture. "And this is why...I like playing with you, Chaos."

"Damn," he whined as he pulled out of Mysterion, managing somehow to tug off the condom and toss it aside, half-hoping it wouldn't land atop discarded clothing, which would suck... Part of him thought about disposing of it properly, but since this place was abandoned and only insane morons like themselves would bother coming here, he frankly didn't care if someone happened to come across a used condom amidst this clutter.

Besides, Mysterion looked rather inviting in that moment and he didn't have plans to get up anytime soon. So Professor Chaos laid down gingerly atop Mysterion's chest, mindful of the mess made on his belly, and decided maybe he could let him play with his hair just a little while longer. Thank Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that his green cape acted like a blanket because he might not have felt quite so amicable if his bare ass were exposed to the room.

Mysterion laughed at how cuddly the usually psychotic criminal was being, and it didn't matter that he could feel lube oozing out of his ass or that they were both positively filthy and laying on an old garage floor (albeit on his spread out cape) was not the most sanitary thing to do right now. But regardless, Mysterion slid his hands under Professor Chaos' cape, over his bare shoulders and down his back.

"Can't wait for you to catch me again."

Professor Chaos made a noise of agreement, his fingers making little circles on his chest while he waited for his breaths to come back to him at a normal pace.

"We should head out," Mysterion pointed out after a while, voice back to normal, rumbling deep in his chest. All he could smell was dust and sex, and the former was making his nose start to twitch. Not to mention that if he laid out like this for much longer, the more his body was going to hate him once he sat up.

"I know, but I don't wanna move," Professor Chaos groaned out in annoyance, hating that the serenity of the moment would be forced back to reality so quickly. But he still placed a kiss to Mysterion's bare chest as he tilted his body up, already feeling the drowsy effects of good sex in his system.

"Even bad little villains need their rest," Mysterion countered cheekily as he caught Professor Chaos' pout. "Besides, it's going to take me longer to get home on foot."

"Well, you just can't expect me to move very fast after sex like that," Professor Chaos argued, lifting himself off Mysterion with a grunt, and staggering as he found his footing. For a moment he nearly tripped over his own cape, forgetting that his ankles were still shackled by pants shoved down.

Mysterion watched Professor Chaos blush and fumble as he tried to at least pull his pants up enough to walk with ease, already moving to where the generator stood still humming along. "Well, at least you won't be hobbling," came his parting shot aimed at the retreating back before attempting to sit up, wincing at the sharp jab that shot from tailbone up along his spine. "Jesus fuck."

"You did ask for it, you know," Professor Chaos admonished with a smirk as he returned with a tube of baby wipes in hand, which was a testament to just how prepared Professor Chaos had been for tonight, and already kneeling so he could press a palm against the small of Mysterion's back to help him up.

"Did I complain?" he returned, quirking a brow under his mask. When this earned him nothing but a chuckle, Mysterion snatched the wipes from Professor Chaos' grasp, huffily taking a fistful to mop at his stomach. Once more he failed to think, realizing belatedly that he still had his gloves on, but there wasn't much to be done about it at this point. No more than he could do anything about the dark wet spots on his cape where lube had soaked into fabric.

However, it was the standing-up part that was the worst, even if Professor Chaos was right there with fingers hooked up under his arms to give him a boost. It did nothing to alleviate the way his everything hurt. Not just his ass, though that was the worst of it, but also his sides and face where he and Professor Chaos had traded blows in lieu of foreplay. And then there was the embarrassing bit where he had to reach between his butt cheeks to mop up the lube that left his inner thighs slick. Luckily a glance over showed that Professor Chaos wasn't without some level of decorum, already turning away and busying himself with the task of redressing.

Satisfied with the level of cleanliness he could achieve without a full-on shower and Laundromat, Mysterion tossed the used wipes to some corner and worked on getting his tights and underwear back up, tucking his top down securely. When he turned, there was Professor Chaos, coming up just a little shorter, holding out the utility belt with everything tucked back inside all nice and neat. That made Mysterion smile and lean down to kiss him, earning a one-armed hug back.

"You never do complain," Chaos remarked with a smirk. Now that they were both dressed, he procured the key once more from his pocket, finally freeing Mysterion from the handcuffs, each one clanking dully as they fell away. And Mysterion breathed out in gratitude, rubbing at his sore wrists while Professor Chaos tugged his own gloves back on, wiggling his fingers around, and feeling pretty darn satisfied with himself. And about ready to find a soft bed to collapse into at this point.

Mysterion watched him carefully, remaining quiet even though his smirk matched Professor Chaos'. Then, when his rival was finished, Mysterion slid his hood back up, deciding their night out was at its prolonged end. Not to mention he felt a little safer hiding his face under the shadow of fabric.

"Stay out of trouble, Chaos."

"Trouble always seems to find me." Chaos denied himself the urge to run over and kiss Mysterion all over again, though they both were aware of the tremor in his body, which suggested how close he was to dragging Mysterion back down again, and starting their game all over.

But before either of them could give in to the temptation, Mysterion took his leave, exiting the garage ahead of Professor Chaos. He tried not to think of those concrete stairs being murder on his ass, running up them as fast as he could, just to get the deed over with. And he managed to hide his limp for the most part as he hit the street, pausing to breathe in clean night air. So he wasn't exactly quick on his feet in this state, but able to bear the pain with some level of dignity rather than doubling over and sobbing like a child. He just couldn't go scaling ladders and roof hopping, which hadn't been his plan to begin with anyways.

Had he been better about pre-planning, Kenny's truck would have been parked nearby, maybe just off the old dilapidated road. It would have made the walk home quicker, maybe even providing the opportunity of offering Professor Chaos a quick drop-off somewhere because he knew the guy would be tired after their frantic romp as much as he was. But at the time, his head hadn't been about what happens after the sex, but about the impending thrill of excitement. Regardless, Mysterion was pretty out in the open until he reached the first line of buildings about a half mile toward town, which was at least good for stretching out the muscles that would otherwise be screaming after sitting down for a jostling ride, what with the shocks all but worn out. Still, it was a rather undignified half mile with his cape gathered up in his hands and a slight limp to his gait.

Once Mysterion reached the first structure that made up the perimeter of South Park, he dropped the soiled fabric and went into full-on sneak mode, hugging the side of a closed gas station. Mysterion made his name by obviously being mysterious, never mind that such mythos had been quickly debunked back when Cartman had manipulated Kenny into revealing his identity. But he'd kept a low profile since then, popping up when needed and keeping to the shadows. Mysterion reached the first alley that was at the end of the block, and slipped inside. He wasn't sure what time it was anymore, but there was occasionally a late cruiser or an overnight worker from one of the factories or mills that lay between here and the handful of neighboring small towns. If it was close to the end of the graveyard shift, he didn't want cars to swing by to catch a teenage boy in tights strutting through the streets. That was more than enough reason to avoid the main thoroughfare and take an unfortunately longer route back to the residential area of town. But he couldn't maintain a constant speed and had to slow down as he snaked around a dumpster, wincing as his back protested.

There was a doorway in front of him, boarded over to keep people from breaking in, not as if they'd just use the broken window instead. But it seemed like a good stopping place to catch his breath, hand rubbing at this lower back. Yet despite the pain, Mysterion was smiling. "Fucking Butters..." he murmured, feeling his insides twist up pleasantly.

Then Mysterion heard a noise and turned, only to cuss out softly because a sharp pain stabbed through him in protest. And while he had traversed this particular route countless times, either in or out of costume, he was familiar with how seedy this particular section of town got at night. It wasn't just where he lived that got the reputation for vagrancy and drug manufacture. Such activity tended to settle in like opportunistic cockroaches if there was an opening for low visibility and seclusion. And distracted as he'd been by sex and the affection he held for the guy who did this to him, Mysterion allowed himself to lapse in judgment about stopping here of all places.

And then he realized he'd given out his presence with dread that settled cold and heavy in his stomach a split second before a new pain blossomed across the back of his head, almost the exact same spot where his head had been conked on earlier tonight by Professor Chaos. And Mysterion went as limp as a puppet with its strings cut, but not out cold. Though he wished he had been knocked out altogether just to avoid the putrid mess his cheek ended up soaking in, knowing full well that stink was going to stick with him all the way home.

Mysterion attempted to get up, if only to leave the puddle and put himself more into a position of ready, but his vision swam as he lifted his head, and his limbs didn't exactly want to cooperate. It was a rather unique sensation, as though he were high except without any numbing agent to benefit from. Certainly if he was high, he at least wouldn't be feeling the pain in his lower back or the throb in his noggin quite this sharply. Indeed, it was probably that very affliction quite possibly combined with the cushion his hood provided, which prevented the attempted cold-clocking altogether.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Mysterion was hoisted up by his armpits. His head lolled, but the nausea and vertigo kept him from instantly seeing who was helping him. It wasn't surprising that there was no real effort in getting him up considering how light he was. Mysterion tried to move his feet, maybe to break free or at least push away, but he couldn't gain a sure footing because of how wonky his body felt, and was instead dragged without much protest past the doorway he'd sought refuge in, and into an open doorframe that had little more than a curtain draped across. Not much in the way of camouflage, but then again even he had failed to notice it this trip through.

The toes of his boots slogged through the alley waste and over the broken threshold. There was the clink of shattered tile, which really didn't mean anything other than remind Mysterion that this used to be a failed spa back in the days when South Park attempted to draw in tourist trade. Come see the mountains and be pampered – that sort of thing. Looking down at it now, Mysterion could see how disgusting the floor was after years of neglect, stained and grimy. Maybe more so than the garage floor because at least concrete was porous. Naturally it was dark inside because there would be no power, much like the garage he just tussled in with Professor Chaos. But the fact that Mysterion could pick out these details now instead of focusing on the stink that clung to his hair and face meant at least his senses were returning. Though he feared at this point he now had a concussion.

Luckily adrenaline was playing its part in his recovery because he knew for someone to blindside him with a blow to the head and drag him off the street instead of calling an ambulance meant his life was in immediate danger. Even with his so-called power of immortality, Mysterion still had an overall sense of self-preservation. No amount of death managed yet to squash down that instinctual drive to survive.

The next thing Mysterion knew, he was being tossed haphazardly against a wall, back and shoulder thankfully making the impact instead of his head. He at least was grateful to whomever was upstairs for that small favor as he took the time to collect himself and test out his physical capabilities. It was at this time that someone spoke, mostly in whispered tones. He didn't know if it was the one who attacked him or the one who carried him indoors, even though both could very well have been the same person. He just knew there were at least two, maybe five voices, the sounds echoing off the insides of his head. Or maybe it was just the tiles. Mysterion turned his head and counted the shapes. He'd been close as there were four men arguing amongst themselves, one pointing at him in a frantic gesture he recognized as panic. If he focused, he could decipher some words, like 'spy' and 'kid' and even 'hero', but that was as far as he got regarding the direction of their heated conversation. Not that it wasn't obvious he would be the star tonight, because how many kids in costumes managed to stumble into the clutches of something untoward.

The longer they argued, the more time Mysterion got to work his arms, finally losing the limp noodle syndrome to push into a seated position. He didn't dare try to think of the fate of his costume at this point. Between rolling around in grease and dust, and the lube that spilled over his cape, he knew a trip to the dry cleaners was going to be in order. Even so, Mysterion opted to not just lie on that gross floor, though he was careful not to draw more attention to himself than he already had.

Not that it ultimately mattered. Now that he was upright and in control of his body, regardless of the pain he was in, the initial onset of panic finally ebbing away. If they killed him, he'd just wake up tomorrow good as new. If he was really lucky, they'd just leave him here and scatter, thinking he was harmless. And he could get up and walk out, if he didn't die of a concussion first. Were they just the paranoid breed of homeless or meth heads, he didn't know, but they tended not to think too clearly, and were just as unpredictable as far as ultimate outcomes went. Either way, Mysterion knew he wasn't going to be in any serious trouble.

And the more he thought about it, the more he realized it wouldn't be too difficult to just lay there and look harmless. So Mysterion started to go lax, letting his eyes shift away from the cluster of figures in an effort to avoid being obvious about his attempts to listen in. And then he saw the curtain move. At first, Mysterion thought it might just be his imagination or just an evening breeze against a not so sturdy barrier to the outside. But the flash of silver and muted dark green, albeit brief, was unmistakable.

And now his plan had changed altogether. Had Professor Chaos followed him to make sure he made it home out of guilt for causing such pain? Or was this mere coincidence that he just happened to pick the exact same route as Mysterion? Either way, Mysterion caught the wide eyed panicked look on his face, the sort that screamed about how much in over his head he was. And he knew the guy behind that helm would be torn between wanting to rush in stupidly in the vain hope that he could make a difference or taking a chance in running off for help. At least he was being quiet, not so much as a squeak out of him to draw the attention of Mysterion's captors. And the fact that Professor Chaos was lingering and still peeking in with that same expression of abject horror convinced Mysterion that he wasn't going to abandon him just to go enlist the police or something for backup. Butters was far too soft and loyal to simply do the smart thing, even under that armor.

Well, there went tonight's contingency plans.

Mysterion closed his eyes, trying not to sigh. He felt his mind start to slip, a sly thought creeping in saying that maybe he ought to just sleep now, which didn't seem too bad an option, even with Professor Chaos right outside and in obvious danger. Luckily he was denied such a fate as the men stopped arguing and approached his position. A hand roughly grabbed him by the cowl and jerked his hood away, and then fingers yanked at his hair, snapping him instantly out of his drifting thoughts.

In front of him was a scraggly mug, unshaven and dark-skinned, though he couldn't tell if it was sun-baked skin or just unwashed. Mysterion was apt to go with the latter because the smell hitting him was much worse than what his cheek had splashed into in the alley outside. It took Mysterion a moment to focus fully, noting the man's eyes were dilated, definitely under the influence of something, but there was a panic about him that mutated into anger. The guy was afraid, delusional even. And it took Mysterion every bit of control he had to not glance at the door to make sure Professor Chaos stayed out of sight.

But the guy started screaming in his face, the words much clearer than the earlier whispering. "Who the fuck are you working for?"

Mysterion winced as the spittle hit his cheeks, as if the spatter could cause him further damage than he'd suffered, and then he refocused his attention on the man. These guys were on something serious if they were freaking out over a hurt kid in a hero costume. But the important thing was to keep their attention on him because if they scattered or thought he had friends nearby, they would certainly discover a second kid dressed in green and leather right outside.

"No habla inglés," he mumbled in a piss-poor Spanish accent, certain he would get a failing grade from the Spanish teacher he had freshman year for that horrid pronunciation.

It got exactly the reaction Mysterion wanted, however, the man positively seething. Though he hadn't expected the punch that came in retaliation, knuckles bouncing off his jaw. He could only thank his lucky stars that there was no weapon involved or that the blow hadn't been hard enough to truly knock him out, instead just causing his brain to rattle a bit. As he huffed out a breath, Mysterion could taste blood from where his teeth recut into his cheek, and he spat out, adding to the mess that already stained the tiles.

In that moment there were a lot of things Mysterion was grateful for, though the biggest one happened to be that he was held captive by a bunch of morons under the influence. They'd taken too long arguing amongst themselves and gave him the chance to recuperate over his near blackout. They were so focused on the obvious that they didn't see the petrified teen hovering in the doorway as a silent witness. And, he noted as he subtly brushed his hand against his utility belt, they were too scared and stupid to bother checking a kid dressed in tights and a cape for weapons.

And despite the stigma attached to wearing capes, thanks in part of an underrated animated movie, it did help to conceal the movement of his hand and what he was reaching for.

Mysterion had molded this whole persona off of a childhood hero. Like most kids at age nine, Kenny loved comic books and movies based off them. And to a degree, he idolized a great deal of those characters, none more so than Batman. And why not, since he was sleeping on a cold, lumpy mattress infested with bedbugs? It was fun to imagine himself as a rich playboy by day and a superhero at night, especially when he was a far superior choice compared to the self-serving likes of the Coon. And like Batman, Mysterion fashioned his utility belt with non-lethal components that were more self-defense and distraction than outright weapons, which was rather easy thanks to internet and discreet shipping services.

So as he was yanked up again, the same question about who he was working for spat out against his face with a another spray of spittle, Mysterion's hand had reached into his pouch, thumb deftly hooking into a clip for safety so he wouldn't drop his tool. There was no glancing at the door to see if Professor Chaos was still there because that would just point out the obvious intruder. Besides, Mysterion needed to face this junkie down, defiant and perhaps a little smug.

Heart hammering, he palmed the tiny device, feeling for the large button that would set it off. He had one good shot at this, and he had no plans to fuck it up, not with Professor Chaos' safety also riding the line.

"I'm working for your mom," he retorted in answer before clapping his hand against the man's ear, the personal alarm keychain trapped between that and his palm. A lot could have gone wrong in that moment. Mysterion could have missed or dropped the keychain, or the button might have been too small to be depressed by the whorls of his earlobe. But apparently there was more luck on his side as it clicked and activated, 120 decibels going off right against the guy's eardrum.

Even echoing off the tiles the sound reverberated unbearably with a shrill, piercing screech, so he knew the guy had to be reeling as those internal bones quivered from being at ground zero. Predictably he was dropped, barely able to catch his feet with an unsteady wobble, reminded once more with the sharp stab of pain in his lower back of just how out of commission he was tonight, else he would have been on the immediate offense. The guy who had manhandled him was worse off just for a rather weak clap to the ear, both hands wrapped around his head as if he could ward off what probably was going to be several days of impaired hearing, if not permanent damage. The others were momentarily stunned, huddling against the far wall with hands over their ears, but they weren't recoiling for long, not when their buddy was writhing on the floor.

Mysterion had precious time, already wondering if he needed to go for the mace or unhook the retractable baton. But then he saw a couple small balls roll into the room, the spark from small wicks distracting him. By the time the others saw them, they were already beginning to belch out smoke with a smell of sulphur and ash. Mysterion couldn't help the smile that came with the thought of Professor Chaos resorting to smoke bombs. But then again, he probably thought ahead if the need arose for a screen to disguise a getaway.

The alarm ceased its squeal, plunging everything into a ringing silence, but the distraction of smoke worked, filling up the room with a haze, the piss-poor illumination only enhancing the blind handicap. Mysterion opted at that point to unhook the baton, something he rarely used and only if in dire straits. The smoke otherwise would have impeded him from accuracy with mace and other than some zip tie restraints and firecrackers, he really didn't keep much of an arsenal, especially something effective in this situation. With a flick of his wrist, the baton extended, clicking with the weighted tip. Compressed it was as big and girthy as a cigar, but telescoped out it was as long as his forearm and sturdy.

He held it at the ready, and took two steps. Underfoot was the downed junkie, coughing into his sleeve and still in obvious pain. Mysterion could see a trickle of something dark and wet clinging to the very ear he had shoved the alarm against, and got a middling stab of guilt and grim satisfaction for causing that level of damage. He tentatively stepped around him, avoiding the range of his reach just to keep from going down and eating dirty tile. Past the fading ringing in his ears, he could make out a sense of general commotion and knew it was the confused remainder stumbling around, probably arguing about where the smoke came from and how to make their escape. Then Mysterion heard a shout, this voice distinct.

"What's your damage, huh?"

Professor Chaos had to be riding the adrenaline high and rushed into the room instead of hightailing it out. Mysterion could hear the sound of a body smacking into the wall, that slap of flesh unmistakable and wince-worthy. A bit scared, he dashed forward, ready to strike with the baton. But instead he found Professor Chaos shaking and seething over the poor fool who'd apparently been in his way when he dashed forward.

Mysterion kept his approach even as Professor Chaos kept screaming, clearly pissed off, "You just search the streets for kids to beat up?"

He had no choice but to twist his body ever-so-slightly, not taking any chances to lower that baton should one of the two remaining men come at them. His free arm he snaked around Professor Chaos' middle, startling the already high-strung teen, but still getting his attention nevertheless. Mysterion craned his neck, scanning the smoky room for any approaching shapes of a threatening nature as he tugged Professor Chaos along rather urgently.

"You dumbfuck!" he hissed, shivering because they were in serious danger. "We need to run now!"

Mysterion was all set to start the risky process of navigating their way back to the curtained doorway. But he was met with immediate resistance as Professor Chaos grabbed him by the wrist and took the immediate lead.

"It's this way," Professor Chaos said, voice shaking slightly but leaving no room for argument. Not that Mysterion had his heart set on debating the location if his rival knew the way. Sure enough, the smoke thinned out right before Professor Chaos pushed aside the fabric, welcoming the night air.

Though four steps out, Mysterion ended up stumbling, releasing Professor Chaos so he didn't trip him up as well. It didn't matter if it had been at the back of his mind since he exited the garage; right now he seriously was regretting the rough sex as it all but hobbled him. Mysterion cussed in an undignified manner, and slowed his gait to a humbling limp, trailing far behind Professor Chaos. And he wanted to just scream at the other to keep running because he could get away far more easily without Mysterion to slow him down. He could take the chance and get caught all over again, possibly killed, but Professor Chaos would be safe.

Except Professor Chaos outright stopped and turned around to grab Mysterion about the waist, obviously refusing to leave him behind. It didn't matter that Mysterion hadn't asked for help, he was getting it regardless. One look at that ruddy face glistening with exertion showed that Professor Chaos was definitely going to dig his heels in and refuse to go on without him, the determination evident in tense jaw and tight eyes, and perhaps a sense of responsibility since he had caused Mysterion this handicapped state .

Mysterion was all set to start with an avalanche of insults just to push Professor Chaos away, but at the moment he opened his mouth there came a shout echoing behind them. Mysterion looked behind them because such shouts were meant to attract attention. And following then was one of the two remaining junkies, smoke curling around his ankles as it leaked out past the curtain. But that wasn't what caught Mysterion's attention.

No, it was the gun that was held in a shaking two-fisted grip, definitely battered and in need of a good cleaning, but obviously on display for more than show. And in that moment, two things became startlingly clear to Mysterion, leaving him with a dread cold in his belly. Regardless if they'd gotten satisfying answers, they would have most likely shot him in cold blood out of pure paranoia. And had he not gone through this alley first, they would have taken Professor Chaos and left him with that same grisly end.

Mysterion also knew he still had to protect his rival because together like this they were one target, something he couldn't chance. So in that split second, Mysterion dropped his baton and used all his strength to shove Professor Chaos away, separating their bodies and sending the poor villain to the street.

The gun with off with the motion of his fast acting, the guy obviously startled. So it didn't matter who had been aimed at, Mysterion did the one thing he could do, the one fucking use his curse had. It was a reaction so routine that he stopped being scared of bullets years ago and accepted this with closed eyes and dour satisfaction.

And he felt it, heat searing into his back at a distinct point then blossoming outward as flesh and blood vessels ruptured. Though it really didn't start hurting until he felt the bullet lodge against a bone in his rib cage, the internal scrape and sensation of fracture making him cry out finally. And with the next intake of breath it became apparent that it pierced his lung because he could feel the organ collapse, blood filling his throat as if he were drowning. Mysterion spat up the taste, feeling it slide down his chin and soak into his front as more just bubbled up to refill his mouth. He almost wished it had been a head shot just because it might have scared Professor Chaos into hightailing it in sheer panic. But at the very least the whole escapade managed to freak out the junkie behind him as Mysterion heard the gun clatter heavily and footsteps receding with a frantic whimper.

So that just left the cowering teen that was staring at him with wide, frightful eyes, clearly rooted in spot.

"Get...get up, you dipshit," he gurgled out, more blood pouring from his mouth. "Get the fuck up... We...we need to leave..."

Professor Chaos did little more than shakily sit up, getting his knees underneath. His costume was covered in the gunk and soiled water from the street, or perhaps it was the grime from the garage earlier. Either way, Professor Chaos wasn't any better off, except for the blood that was soaking Mysterion's front and oozing out of his back. He knew he had to be a frightful sight to the guy because the longer he sat there and stared, the quicker tears welled up into his eyes. Mysterion was all but ready to lay into him a second time only thankfully he didn't need to because Professor Chaos finally pushed up unsteadily to his feet. And as expected, he came right over to assist in their escape instead of fleeing for his own life.

Every step was fucking agony, not just from his ass but from the bullet that scraped against bone, from being unable to suck in enough air because one lung was disabled and pushing blood up into his mouth. But Mysterion still pushed ahead because even if the immediate threat had fled, Professor Chaos was still in real danger. So he wasn't going to stop and give up until he was certain he would make it solo.

And they followed the wall along the alley taking the way that led back to the main streets. Though the final hurdle came when they met a chain link fence barring their way. Right on the other side was just twenty feet of the back way between the liquor store and the mom-and-pop drug store where they'd bought trading cards as kids. He could tell mostly from the discarded crates piled next to the dumpster stamped on the side with alcohol brands. Beyond that was the open street that ran through the end of the shopping district and intersected the west end of residential neighborhoods. From here, the Stotch residence was four blocks away.

Mysterion glanced back and thankfully saw no one following them, which would have been a serious problem if it was the ones they personally assaulted, or worse yet, the yahoo who had shot him. Mysterion knew if he got Professor Chaos over this fence, he would make it home and this dreadful night could end. So he shoved Professor Chaos away, urging him over the fence.

"No, you need to go first," came the protest.

Mysterion shook his head and shoved again, spitting out blood as his strength was already leaving his limbs. "I'm gonna...need you to catch me...when I get over," he lied, giving the villain a final push.

And so gloved fingers and the tips of boots found purchase in the links, hoisting over with a sense of urgency. And Mysterion shoved at Professor Chaos' rear end, giving him some leverage until legs and cape slid over the top and landed down on the pavement on the other side.

Mysterion gripped at the chain, his breath coming out more shallow, a sheen of cold sweat on his face. Professor Chaos rose up, ready to encourage him, but even that sliver of false hope faded when he saw just how bad off his rival was. As his hands curled over Mysterion's fingers, an edge of panic seeping in.

-Nhaingen-

"I can't leave you, Kenny!"

It was almost touching just how scared he was, so much so that pretenses were dropped because he no longer saw a role being played but someone he truly cared about. Kenny made a point to file this memory away for later, because right now wasn't the time.

He sucked in a breath and felt something inside his chest rattle with the intake of air. And he wasn't sure they were even safe, but his legs finally wobbled out from underneath him and he went down like a sack of potatoes, light-headed from all the shit that was just wrong with his body.

Butters let out a startled cry, and Kenny actually felt a smidge of regret that he had to go down like this, his fingers slipping free from his friend's touch. But at least this time he didn't land face-down in the alley. At least for his sake Kenny attempted to get back up, but couldn't and knew his body was done for. And he coughed up more blood as he sagged against the fence. "Fucking...run already..."

"I'm not fucking leaving you!" Butters argued, sinking to his knees to be on the same level, trying to touch him through the fence, but unable to do little more than stroke with fingertips. Tears were finally spilling over dirty cheeks, which sort of surprised Kenny since he expected him to fall apart sooner than this.

It was a testament to just how strong Butters really was.

"You're a...fucking inept...villain," he wheezed out, looking at Butters, only to find that his gaze was somewhat unfocused. "You're supposed...to save yourself... Be...fucking selfish..."

"Too fucking bad," Butters spat back, gripping the fence as if he wanted nothing more than to tear it down. "Professor Chaos is a shitty villain. You know that!"

Kenny's body felt heavy, his head even turning into dead weight, his limbs going numb. But he still smiled.

"He's...my shitty villain..."

Butters sobbed again, eyes squeezing tight and grubby face scrunched up like he was a toddler. Kenny couldn't stop smiling and wished a fence wasn't separating them because he would have liked to give Butters a hug. Or, given his current physical state, let Butters hug him. Either would have been nice. As it was, he couldn't even muster enough strength to lift a hand and reach out to him. And even knowing what he knew was going to happen next, Kenny still felt guilty for giving Butters this much pain to carry home.

So he did what he did best, and offered up promises. "You know...I can't die," Kenny remarked, knowing it sounded like a lie even if it was the truth. It was the story he told everyone who watched him suffer for whatever reason, whether it was a friend or his sister. Sometimes they swallowed it down because it was better than believing in the sadness, but more often than not, they thought he was joking.

Regardless of how Butters was going to react, Kenny had to press onward because it was taking all his energy just to keep breathing, even if they were far more shallow, blood choking every word. "Go...run, okay? I'll...come over later...I promise..."

There was a moment Kenny was sure Butters might do just that, so willing to cling to anything than his helplessness at letting someone die. Kenny just didn't want to subject Butters to watching his slow demise because it would just root him to the spot out of grief and if those guys came looking for them, he'd be a sitting target.

Sure enough, there came his stubborn argument. "I can't leave you... I fucking can't..."

"Goddammit...just...fucking go," Kenny choked out, all his energy pressed into those words and duly rewarded with fresh blood bubbling up from his throat. He gagged and coughed, already seeing spots. "If something happens…to you…it really will fucking kill me…"

Butters stammered, at a loss. Kenny could tell he was all but ready to go. He just needed that final push. And while Kenny could have said mean, terrible things to drive him off, Butters was hurting too much already and he didn't have it in him to yell like that again. So instead, Kenny closed his eyes, mostly because he couldn't keep them open any longer, and mustered all his breath for one last sentence.

"If you...really want to...save me...fucking run..."

Kenny felt and heard Butters let go of the fence, metal rattling gently and vibrating against his cheek. There was a soft grunt as Butters got up and a few hesitant steps. Kenny knew he was afraid, knew because he'd seen similar scenes play out. They were all scared to leave in that moment because Kenny would offer reassurances, but death was always a hard pill to swallow.

And for a moment, he wasn't sure Butters was going to take off, but then he heard the retreating gait of someone in a full run, each step getting softer as the distance increased. And then it was silent save for the faint wheeze of his struggling breath. Kenny was still smiling, could feel it even as blood continued to ooze over his lips and down his chin. His whole body was cold, the pain already ebbing away, yet he held that smile because Butters was going to be okay. Who wouldn't be at ease if someone they cared about was finally out of harm's way? Sure it sucked to go out this way, but Butters would be safe.

That's what Kenny kept thinking over and over as he finally drifted off, forgetting along the way that he had a concussion that was making his passing a little quicker.

And all things considered, it was pretty damn peaceful death.

---

"Hey, Kenny! What are you doing?" A familiar voice snapped Kenny's attention back to the foreground.

He was standing in front of his open locker, zoned out as always, the general din of the hallway at full throttle now that school had let out. Even more so since it was a Friday and general consensus promised at least half a dozen people were getting laid on dates while another half dozen were either going to get wasted or stoned. There wasn't much in the way of shenanigans for teens in a small mountain town except illegal substances or sex. Kenny pretty much bet his weekend was due to go either way.

He turned and found Stan looking at him curiously, a hint of concern evident enough that he flashed a careless grin.

"You're getting about as bad as Tweek, sleeping standing up like that," he remarked, shifting the weight of his backpack against one shoulder to offset the strain.

Kenny snorted in retort. "Go on ahead, I promise I'll be right behind you. Just have to grab a few things." He never bothered addressing Stan's concerns, brushing off potential answers with an impish expression. Very few bothered to question his motives and pretty much everyone knew he was something of a survivor when it came to his own business.

Stan was hesitating, obviously not so accepting of a non-answer, but a final wave got him pried from his back and off down the hall to follow the rest of the cattle outside, only a few lingering apple polishers remaining for their extracurriculars and clubs.

Kenny's attention turned back to his locker, and the reason he'd zoned out to begin with.

The newspaper clipping was over a month old, the photo in contrasting black and white. It was Professor Chaos, a little worse for wear, his helm gone because he hadn't had time to find it before the press arrived. He was sandwiched rather uncomfortably between his parents, both of them wearing this sort of strained smile, obviously basking in the momentary glory of pride but seething underneath with the promise of punishment later. But obviously the focus was on poor Butters in the middle, his costume stained, trying to smile.

It was a haunted sort of look in those sepia-toned eyes. Kenny liked to think that at that moment, Butters still remembered he had left something important behind. It was almost like proof that something remained of his deaths, even if Butters wasn't outright consumed by despair for his loss.

The photo was attached to a small headline: Antihero Teen Takes Out Trash. It wasn't big enough to usurp the banner, but it did make the front page as both a human-interest story and a focus on the problems South Park had with its vagrants and drug abuse. It detailed how one brave kid got accosted by a gang of addicts and not only escaped with quick wits and ingenuity, but also alerted authorities to where the transients were holed up. Not only were three of the four men picked up, but they uncovered a cache of poor-quality meth that would have ultimately circled through South Park. There was no mention of Butters' cohort and rival during the escapade, either from Butters' shy account or from the listed testimony from the arrested parties. Kenny honestly wouldn't have had it any other way since it meant Butters had ultimately forgotten his rather gruesome death.

Kenny had read the article dozens of times ever since Kyle had shown him the paper, even letting him keep it to clip it out. Thankfully Kyle wasn't the type to bother asking questions as to why he was so obsessed with a silly article about Butters.

-Cobaye-

And for weeks following the incident, Butters had been something of a celebrity. He'd been mobbed at school by people wanting him to sign the article as Professor Chaos, despite a few naysayers who tried to mock him for still dressing up and playing pretend. But even better was that Butters got invited out, in costume no less, to visit hospitals and events. Ironically, Butters mostly stammered through those proceedings because he wasn't used to being adulated as a hero, especially as Professor Chaos.

Kenny, on the other hand, had woken up as usual, fully healed and his costume devoid of any blood or evidence. So he had to pretend for a couple weeks by limping and flinching as if he were bruised up under his clothes, lest Butters suspect something was amiss. When they finally spoke following that night, it was as friends, no double entendre or allusions to anything other than a general inquiry as to if the other was okay. And that was it.

As far as he knew, Butters' memory ended the minute he left the garage and the account shared in the newspaper was the rewritten reality after his expiration.

But Kenny needed to stop daydreaming about the past, especially when his friends were waiting outside with plans for a movie marathon and vodka that Stan had smuggled from his parents' liquor cabinet. And here he was, delaying what promised to be a laid-back but fun weekend.

Laughing, he reached in his worn-out book bag, fishing out the textbooks he wasn't bothering to take home. Sure he had homework, but general hijinks took precedence over scholastic achievement. And one by one, they thunked against the back of his locker rather satisfyingly, the weight finally gone save for the notebooks covered in raunchy drawings and wadded up papers with who knew what scribbled on them.

But just as he was about to close his locker, an envelope fluttered down, jostled free of the general debris that was crammed in his locker. There was no name on the envelope, just the crest of two circles etched around a C in silver gel pen. And Kenny set his bag down with a shiver before tearing it open.

Inside was a piece of notebook paper covered in letters meticulously clipped from magazines. Kenny was pretty sure that somewhere in the Stotch household there was a hidden cache of mutilated periodicals, but he pushed aside that thought to read on:

"I have lured your city into a false sense of security, and now it is ripe for the picking. Unless you plan to play my game and stop me? It's up to you which way this swings, but if you know what's good for you, you'll let this slide. Either way, I await another go around if you're not scared."

Kenny read it twice over before crumpling up the note, his heart already beginning to pound.

"Looks like I'm blowing off the alcohol tonight," he murmured to himself, shoving the wadded note into his bag and closing his locker. Jaw set, he started out on a quick trot out the main entrance, mind already deciphering Professor Chaos' clues.

He didn't know what the villain had up his sleeve, but Kenny knew tonight there would be no mercy for Professor Chaos.

The game was on.

 

THE END