The Fathom of Death

- Prologue -

Everyone wants to be special. They want to be a rock stars, celebrities, they want everyone to know them. There are people, who are ready to do bad things to be what they want. To get what they want. As long as everyone know their name. People, who would pity those who were nobodies. Then there are those, who would use their speciality to help people. Everyone goes with the flow, they need to be perfect. They feel like they need to be someone. You can see that from the almost every magazines. Celebrities are our role models. Anorectic drug users, violent alcoholics and rapers are our role models. Of course there are those who seriously don't want anything bad, or those who are somewhere middle of the good and bad.

I'm not perfect either, I know that well enough. I'm pretty far from being perfect. My family is one of the poorest in South Park. We always eat frozen waffles for dinner, and bread sandwiches for breakfast. My parents are known drug addicts, and they're heavy drinkers. I have a little sister Karen, and a big brother Kevin, who's always drunk and fighting with my parents. I'm already seventeen, so I would probably move away pretty soon.

I get wasted pretty often, I smoke, people call me a whore, I even use drugs sometimes, just like our role models. I can even kill, if I wanted to. I'm just the boy in an orange parka, hanging on the background. I'm one of those nobodies, and I don't even care. I like to be nobody, it feels pretty good. You don't need to stress about everything, you don't need to be something what you're not... - Well... I'm still being what I'm not.

You see, I have a curse. It makes my life a living Hell, the nightmare that never ends. I seriously don't wanna live this kind of life, and I would do anything to make it normal. Someone might ask, why I don't end it then? Once and for all, by killing myself. I sounds easy, but it's not. Oh, I have tried. I have tried to kill my self that many times that I can't even remember. The thing is, I can't die. Well, I can, I die all the time. But every time I'll come back. I have died in so many times that I lost the count many years ago. I've drowned, burned alive, slaughtered, shot, decapitate, bled to dead, smashed, torn apart - literally, crushed... I've probably died in every single way that someone even can die. Then I always wake up on my bed, wearing my old parka. It's always like I've woke up from the nightmare, and then later I realize that I'm still in it. I'm sick of my life, everything of feeling trapped inside this pity nightmare. My life's a dead-end, and I'm drapped within. The worst part is that no-one remembers my deaths. Not even my friends. I've died directly in front of them so many times, and every time I come back, they don't even remember. They just say: 'Oh hey Kenny', like nothing had happened. They always ask where did I disappear, like someone would be messing their memories. I hadn't disappeared. I hadn't left anywhere. I hade fucking died!

I've done bad things - I still do -, but I like do something good, too. That's something what makes my mind determined. I want to help people, who needs help the most. That might be the only thing that I'm good at. That feeling when you know you've saved someone's life... It's just unforgettable. The joy... It's just incredible. That's why I have to be strong. I have to be strong for them who needs me. I need to be Mysterion.

I started from the bottom, hiding my identity as Mysterion. As I grew, he grew along with me. It all became more serious. Helping people became my priority. I never stopped being him. I'm that ordinary kid, that nobody in the orange parka during the days. But during the nights, I'm Mysterion. They say I'm a hero, and I think that's something what this town needs. I've even heard someone call me their guardian angel. My self-esteem not high enough for me to call myself that. At least not yet.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those depressive kids, who are drifting in the self-pity. No, no, no... Actually, I think that I'm the opposite of that. I'm pretty cheerful, positive, and maybe even a little pervert... Okay, not a little pervert. My friends call me a whore. But hey, I just like girls and their boobs. All men have their needs, and I just like to spend time with girls a bit more intimately than my friends. I'm not that romantic type of cheesy with them tho'. I have to admit, I'm not the most social person, despite my cheerfulness and luck with women. I can be pretty sceptical and cynical when I'm in bad mood. That doesn't happen that often, usually only after when I've died. Or when Cartman is making fun of me.

Yeah, Cartman. He's... I don't know what he is. I don't actually even consider him as a friend. He's just some fat, annoying, arrogant, egoist dick and pain in the ass. He just hangs with us, and I don't even know why. He's one of those persons who could kill someone to get what he wants. He had kill someone to get what he wants. He had murdered several people when we were kids. He had fucking feed some ginger's parents to the boy among the chili, or what ever that thing was, and then afterwards he heard that had been his own dad. He's just fucked up. He's like a nazi. And his mother's a slut.

I think jews are the people he hates the most. Kyle is Jewish, so those two don't get along. He always wears his old green ushanka, the same hat what he had worn in 4th grade. He hides his red and very, I mean very curly hair with it. He's the smartest kid in our class, and I think he has the highest moral standard. He's a great friend, but sometimes just a bit too impatience and gets irritated pretty easily. He has a Canadian little brother, Ike. He and Stan are best friends, and I have to admit that I'm sometimes pretty jealous.

Stan is generally friendly almost to everyone. He's usually the first person who's helping someone out of the trouble. He's knowledgeable, down-to-earth, and almost always laid back. He always has his a red-brimmed blue knit cap adorned with a red pom-pom and his brown jacket. His dad's maybe a dumbest human on earth, and his sister, Shelly is creeping the Hell out of me.

Yeah, those guys are my best friends. We always hang with each other, but still they don't know about my curse. Well, they can't remember, and every time I die, they forgot even that part when I've told them that I'm immortal. That just sucks.

It's the moonless night. I'm standing in our bathroom, in front of our dirty sink. Our whole house is dirty. There are trash and broken furnitures all over the place. I don't want to live in a place like this. It's just wrong. I don't care about myself, or my brother, who has been a total asshole for couple years. I'm more concerned about Karen. She's too young, too vulnerable to live in a place like this. This house is more shack, than home. And I know I can't just leave Karen here. I look at myself in the mirror broken. Mysterion looks back at me, and I realize how angry I look. My throat hurts, and my eyes are stinging. My face look so blank, that it almost startles me. My blue eyes looks dark, and my skin is pale. That reflection doesn't look like me anymore. Even my usual messy blonde hair looks like it's dying

"Dying, huh?" I mutter, and make a slight grin. That wouldn't be possible. And if it would, I probably wouldn't care. I pull my hood up, and watch as my face disappears to the shadows. That dark figure inside the mirror probably looks like Death to others. But it's not. It's just me, Mysterion. I still have that same cloak, but my suit is now black. That green question mark on my hood is gone, with those ridiculous underpants. My suit is now more like light armor, with a bulletproof vest and military boots. I look at the M-letter on my chest and feel determined.

I leave my house, and run silently along the rooftops towards the center of the town. I keep in the shadows, trying to find someone to protect. The whole night is quiet. There not much people outside. That's a good thing. Not that many victims.

Few hours later, I look as the sun is slowly rising. I decide to leave, and go to sleep, when my eyes catch someone walking down on the alley. It's still dark, so it makes harder to see down there. It's a kid. Girl, looks couple years younger than me. There's nothing else to do, so I start follow her, just in case. Soon, I'm clad that I did. There's some rough male voices shouting to the girl. Two drunk men appear to my sight, and starts following the girl. I can see as she starts panicking. I lean over the roof's edge to see better. I hear a scream, when they catch her. She starts screaming hysterically, and those man start laughing.

"Don't worry girl, we just wanna have some fun", other one says, and starts pulling her closer. He shoves her against the rubbish bin. Other man is next to her, and starts touching her.

That makes me grit my teeth, and I feel the anger starting to overwhelm. Now is my time to have fun with them. I jump over the edge, and land behind the man who was holding her. He obviously heard that thud, and tries to turn around. I grab his forehead, and slammed the back of his head to the stony wall. He fells to the ground, and stays there, while his friend takes the pistol from his pocket. He's still next to the girl, but looks like he has totally forgot her.

"Mysterion!" He shouts. "I'll fucking kill you!"

I grin, and look at his almost desperate face. I would want to see that. Unfortunately there's one thing what he don't know. Mortal can't kill immortal. "I would like to see you try", I growl with a lower tone. That's the way how Mysterion talks.

His face looks like he don't know what to do. He's still pointing me with his gun, but his hands are shaking. I jump on the rubbish bin, and then dash towards him from above. I land on top of him, knock him to the ground, while his gun falls to the ground. He don't pass out, and I grab the gun, and point him between his eyes with it. He looks like he wants to cry, but I don't feel any pity.

I stand up and look at the girl, who had almost got raped. She's on a phone, sobbing hysterically to someone. I walk in front of her, when the call ends, to make sure that she's okay. "I-Im fine. My mom's gonna pick me up.."

She starts crying again, and suddenly runs next to the man and starts kicking him furiously. I'm too shocked to move first, but then I pull her gently away from the man. She turns around and hugs me tightly. I just pat her back dumbly. "Thank you so much!" She cries to my chest.

"That's why I'm here for", I say softly, and hold her as long as her mom comes. She thanks me too, and I see as they both cry inside the car when they leave. I give out a smile. I can feel that familiar joy, and after I call Officer Barbrady, I go to home. I don't feel that bad anymore. This is why I keep doing this. This makes me who I am. When I'm back at home, I'm relieved to be still alive. No dying tonight.

I'm walking toward the bus station. I feel like I'm too tired to go school, but still I'm here. Sigh. I don't want to be poor for rest of my life, so I have to study. I hear my friends calling my name. I turn around, and smile when I see those three idiots walking towards me. They had been my friends, as long as I can even remember. They are the ones who keep me wanting to live my life like it was. I would end my curse, if I would know how, but at least they keep me sane. They are my friends, and I would die for real for them. As they approach me, I see as Kyle's happy expression changes quickly. He looks somewhere above me in horror, and I wonder what he's seeing. Stan's face falls too, while his eyes wide.

"Kenny watch out!" He screams terrified.

All my friends are screaming, while I look up. As I raise my head, I see a piano falling to my direction. It's too fast for me to jump away, and it hits me. It crushes me below it, I almost hear my breaking and shattering bones. I feel the pain coming from my every body parts, and I taste the blood in my mouth. I can't breathe, my lungs are probably crushed, too.

I hear my friend's voice shouting. "Oh my god, you killed Kenny!"

"You bastard!" Kyle cries.

Everything of that sounds too familiar. The worst part of this is that I don't die immediately. It takes couple painful minutes, and they feel like years. I want to scream, but I can't. Then finally I'm free from the agony and pain. I'm drifting into nothingness. This time I don't go to Hell or Heaven. I'm just dead. I'm in the cold darkness, and want myself to wake up.

I shot my eyes open, when I wake up. I feel breathless, but all the pain is gone. I look around to find myself inside my room, on my bed. I sit up tiredly, and pull my hood down. Yeah, fuck my live. My live is still full of bullshit, no matter what. Fuck this shit. I stand up, and walk over my dirty desk, and take the dusty notebook, and pen. I sit down again, and open the first page. I wanna know what I really am. I wanna know what is going on with this curse, and I wanna get rid of it, forever. I let out a sigh, but I feel determined right now, like this is the right thing to do. I know I wouldn't get my answers by doing this, but maybe, just maybe this would keep me sane after all. Then I start to write:

I'm Kenny McCormick and this is my story.