I'm introducing a seldom used character in this chapter, who I think is woefully ignored by both the fandom and the series itself. This character has tons of potential for amusement, in my opinion. Especially when you put her in the same room as today's viewpoint. This was so funny to write; it took me forever cause I kept pausing, imagining what was going on, and having to laugh it off. By the way, I really couldn't find much about this character either. Like what her hair or eye color is. So I rather made it up. Let me know if there's any actual information about her out there somewhere and I'll edit. I'd at least like a last name.

Time to shake things up! Enter another evil organization for our heroes to tangle with.

Oh, and Kenny's an incorrigible flirt. But you all know that.

"Belt sanders make bad pillows" came from my proofreading sister by the way. It was so funny I stole it.

Chapter 15: Empathy

Dear Diary,

Writing is still boring. I guess that's ironic, since my life has been anything but boring, and diaries are for writing about your life. Even writing it like a comic book is boring; I prefer reading those anyways. Oh I know, I'll write about my fantasy today!

She was so beautiful as she sat. At least I assume she was; her coat hid most of her features. I imagined what it would be like if she were to remove that coat. And shirt. And everything. She's have the most luscious figure. Wide hips, huge chest, curvy torso. Long blonde hair that would curl perfectly around her smooth shoulders. Full lips partly open. Green eyes half lidded and eager. I'd take her eagerly myself and-

*rest of page ripped off*

*post-it note covering what's left*

D#%%it Kenny, write about me one more f*$%ing time like that and I will kill you till you STAY dead!

My eyes shot open. I vaguely remembered something about pain again. On my face? Oh wait.

Belt sanders make bad pillows. I made a mental note of that. D$%%it I knew that stupid shop room would be the death of me. It usually was.

Odd though, I thought I'd unplugged that sander for just that reason . . . oh well, at least I got some sleep somehow.

I sat up in bed and made my cursory check. Yup, all limbs accounted for, no scars or bleeding or other damage. Stuck in my usual clothes. That was something I never understood; forget me coming back to life, how did my clothes end up on me? I knew my parents couldn't afford to keep replacing them, that's for sure.

"So it IS true!" I heard a voice say.

"GAH" I yelled, thrashed in my sheet, then ended up face-first on the floor by the bed. Why was someone in my room?

"Smooth," I heard the voice say sarcastically. Wait, that was a girl voice! Why was a girl in my room?


It took me a second to untangle myself from the sheet, despite my eagerness. On the other side of my bed sat a girl in a chair. She wore jeans and a pink parka which obscured pretty much everything else about her (much to my dismay) expect her disapproving green eyes and frowning lips. Familiar frowning lips . . . I knew this girl!

"Lizzy?" I said incredulously. "From school?" I paused a moment, eyes widening. "You were with the Beehive last week!" I cried. I'd only seen a flash of the pink parka but it had left before I'd caught anything else.

She flinched slightly. "Shut up, I was . . . representing someone," she said, avoiding eye contact.

I had a thousand questions in my mind. Why was she here? Why was she with the Beehive? Why wasn't she surprised at my respawn? What did she mean by "its true"? Why wouldn't she go out with me when I asked her once a week? Why would she only give me a fist to my face for my trouble? Why did she always bring up that I asked every girl out every week? Why did she obscure what I suspected to be a supermodel frame under that bulky parka? Would she take it off so I could see? Maybe-

"Oh, cut it out Kenny!" she said.

I blinked. "Cut what out?"

She folded her arms. "I know that look. That's the 'I'm undressing you with my eyes' look, and I hate it. You give that look to me every g$%d*#^% time you see me in school."

"Then take off your parka, I'm curious," I said.

"H*$$ no!"

I smirked, then jumped back on my bed. "Well, I'm not the one sneaking into bedrooms," I said, leaning back on my pillow. "But, you know, if you're really that desperate . . ." I patted the mattress next to me.

Lizzie flipped me off. "Not on your apparently immortal life," she said. Her eyes changed when she said that however. She looked . . . nervous? Confused? Worried?


"You're getting that look again, cut it out!"

I blinked. "Well, again, you are the one who snuck in my room!" I said.

"I didn't sneak!" she yelled back. What part of her face I could see had turned beet red.

"Then what-"

"My parents are visiting yours, and they threw me in here," she said, sounding like she'd been thrown to the wolves as a sacrifice.

I grinned, leaped off the bed, and landed in her lap. "Well, apparently they want us to get acquainted!" I said cheerfully. This was looking to be the best respawn ever.

"UGH!" she yelled, then shoved me off. I hit the ground hard. "Creep!" she said. "I can't believe you're Mysterion!"

I blinked. It occurred to me she knew a lot more about me than I wanted people to know. "Huh?"

She got up and began to pace around the room in an agitated fashion. "Mysterion is supposed to be suave and heroic! He's a self sacrificing person who's calm and polite and honorable and respectful of women and personal space!" She practically spat the last part at me.

I fell back on my bed laughing. I couldn't help it; this was getting too funny. "Don't tell me," I gasped, "That you've had a crush on Mysterion? I could have taken you out for a date if I'd just asked you as a superhero?"

"I did not!" she yelled, but again was red in the face. Heh, yeah right. "Anyways, I certainly don't like him now, not when I know he's really you, you lecherous, skirt-chasing, egotistical, sexist, happy-go-lucky-"

"You forgot handsome and mysterious," I said, grinning. "Well I am!" I added, when she shot me a look.

"Why am I staying here . . ." she muttered to herself, glancing at the door.

"Beats me, but I appreciate it," I said. I frowned. "Since I am a little tired of dying and waking up on my own . . . not knowing why, or having anyone remember, or having anyone else understand what it feels like-"

"To be killed and yet never die," she said, voice quiet. "To hope, when you feel that sharp pain of yet another end, that maybe this might be the last time you have to experience it . . . but are ultimately disappointed when you find yourself back in bed again. And no one believes you."

I stared at her, gaping. "How . . ."

She just folded her arms and turned her back on me.

"You . . ." I scrambled off my bed, not daring to believe my ears. "You too!"

She didn't turn around, but I saw her nod.

Have you ever jumped right into freezing cold water without testing it? How the shock just rips through you almost like a force, how you feel paralyzed with the sudden sensation, how you suddenly become more aware of yourself?

Yeah, that's how stunned I was.

I didn't think I could ever be as stunned as I was when Kyle told me he remembered me dying. Finally, after so many years, so many deaths, someone remembered. Someone knew a sliver of what I was going through. All my friends now knew about my power. They believed me. It still took getting used to sometimes.

But here, here was someone who didn't just know. Who didn't just believe me. Lizzie didn't just sympathize, she empathized. She'd been there too! She was experiencing the same thing! There was another person like me!

"LIZZIE I LOVE YOU!" I yelled, leaping forwards and grabbing her into a huge happy hug.

"AUGH, get off me you jerk!" she yelped, startled.

I just laughed, twirling her around my room. She went limp in my arms, apparently resigning to ride out my enthusiasm. I was gonna get hit for this, but it would be worth it. I was just so happy.

"I knew it!" I cried.

"Knew what, that you weren't alone?" she muttered.

"No!" I said grinning. "I knew you had a hot body!"

Her fist connected with my head.

I woke up again with a bit of a headache. "Ugh what . . ." I muttered.

"Jerk," I heard a girl's voice growl.

Oh. Right. Lizzie's in my room.

"Worth it," I grinned and sat up. I was on my bed again, and she was back in the chair, glaring at me.

"I'll hit you again," she threatened.

I just grinned. "So," I said in what I hoped was a conversational tone, "Parent are here visiting, huh?"

"Yeah," she muttered. "Just up and decided to visit this morning. You're all also invited to our house tonight for Thanksgiving too."

I perked up. "Seriously?" I said. "Dinner at your place? With real turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and cranberry sauce and-"

"Yes! Stop drooling!" she said.

I looked upwards. "Thank you God for the best day of my life," I said. I glanced at her sideways. "Although it could get better . . ."

"Oh good gravy," she muttered.

"OO I love gravy!"

"Shut up, you lunatic."

We sat in silence for a moment. She stared off somewhere in the corner of my room, avoiding looking at the pin-up plastered walls. I took a moment trying to imagine the curvy body I'd felt under all that parka, but eventually my mind wandered a bit. Did the rest of the gang manage to get their outfits done? Were they going to join me on my nightly haunts? I was so used to acting alone, would I be able to work with a group?

"You're f*$%ing hot," I said out loud.

"Oh for . . ." she gave an exaggerated eyeroll in my direction. "Don't you ever think of anything else?"


"Never mind," she sighed.

"Can you at least tell me what color your hair is?"

"Shut up."

"I bet its blonde. Maybe platinum blonde."

"If I said yes, would you shut up?"

"Only if you were telling the truth."

She paused a moment. "Yes it is," she said sighing again.

"AHA I knew it! Can I get a picture of you in a bikini?"

"Go to h$%%."

"Eh, been there, its overrated."

"Then go back to thinking in your head instead of out loud or I'll send you on a trip there myself."

I swung my feet around so I was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Actually I was thinking abut a few things," I said. "Like, why all the sudden interest from your family? We hardly even know you all, and vice versa. H#$$, the only interaction the two of us have in school is flirt and punch, and even then its not more than a few times a week."

She frowned. "I . . . I don't know," she said. She looked from the door to the window and back to me. "To be honest, my parents have been acting rather weird for the last week too."


"Yeah," she said. She looked at the bracelet on her wrist. "When Mom put this on me, she said 'Not long now, sweetie!' and then told me to tell her if I feel anything weird. She's been keeping an eye on me too. Plus, she's asked about you a lot, and I've never told her about you."

I clutched my chest. "Ouch, burn."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh you'll live."

"Obviously," I said grinning.

She blinked. Then we both erupted into laughter. She draped over the chair giggling and I flopped back on my bed laughing. It was the kind of joke that only immortals would find so f*$%ing hilarious.

"Ahhh . . . seriously though," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "They've been creeping me out."

"Well if you didn't tell them about me, how do they know about me?" I said, sitting back up. "And what do they say? 'Lizzie, don't go anywhere near that perverted McCormick kid'?"

"On the contrary," she said. "Mom was telling me she's heard about a poor boy in school, and was encouraging me to be nice to him and maybe hang out with him so he wouldn't feel lonely."

"Lonely?" I said. "I'm one of the most popular kids in school! I hang out with lots of guys! Girls throw themselves at me!"

Lizzie shot me a withering glare that had a bit more venom than usual. "Yeah, that's what I told her," she said. "I also said I wasn't interested in joining your harem."

"We've got cookies," I said wiggling my eyebrows.

"You're incorrigible."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means you f*$%ing suck."

I grinned at her, but she did raise some interesting questions. Why were her parents suddenly interested in me? What did this have to do with Lizzie's bracelet? What the h&$$ was going on in South Park?

My grin turned into a frown. Something occurred to me. I'd been spending years now trying to find out exactly how I'd gotten my powers. The only clue I had was that my parents, at the time of my conception, had been involved in the rather obscure Cult of Cthulhu. If Lizzie had the same powers . . .

Lizzie's brow furrowed at my change of expression. "What is it?" she asked.

"Lizzie, do your parents go to any meetings at night?" I asked.

She looked puzzled. "Yes, especially recently . . . why?"

D*$%. "Uh, do they tell you about them?"

"Not really, they're just going to friends' houses. Dad sometimes mentions poker."

Double d*$%.


I jumped off my bed. "We're leaving," I said. I strode over to my cupboard and pulled out my Mysterion costume.

"What?" Lizzie said. "Why?"

"Trust me," I said, throwing my costume in my backpack and slinging it over my shoulders. "Whatever is gonna go down tonight, its not just gonna be dinner." I gave a heavy sigh. A full homemade turkey dinner with the works . . . but no, if I was right, even a dinner wasn't gonna make the night worth it. Not if who I was thinking of was behind this.

"But what about our parents?" Lizzie asked as I headed towards my bedroom window. "They'll be worried if we left!"

"My parents will be OK, I do this all the time," I said. "And they themselves are all right, they backed out of that cult ages ago. Its not them that the cult is after."

"Cult? After?"

I slid open the window as silently as I could. "I'll explain on the way," I said. "As for your parents, I don't have an answer to that."

"Where are we going?" she asked, looking worried now.

"To get the rest of my gang," I said. "This needs investigating." I looked at her. "You said you were with Queen B as a representative of someone?"

"Yeah, my Mom had me hang out with her," Lizzie said. "She said that Dad had some sort of business investment with her family's company or some garbage. I thought she just wanted me to kiss up to the new rich girl-"

"Wait, new rich girl?"

"Yeah, well, sorta." Lizzie scratched her head. "Apparently she's gotten some cottage up in the mountains where she's living for the time being."

I smiled slightly. "Does she now," I said, thinking. If she had gotten a cottage, that certainly meant she was setting up shop in the area. "Do you know where it is?"

"No, and after that event last week, I haven't returned any of her calls, even though Mom got mad at me for ignoring them."

My mind was racing. First Trent Boyett, then Checkmate's gang, then the Beehive, now the cult of Cthulhu . . . what on earth tied all these four together? And what brought them all here to South Park? And us? And why did all this seem triggered by the bracelets?


I blinked. Oh right, escaping. Which is what we were doing. Not just running away. I was pretty sure we were escaping something potentially bad.

"We need to find the others and tell them," I said, hopping out the window. "This is all getting rather weird, really fast." I held up my arms to catch her.

"I can get myself out, thanks," she grumbled, climbing out.

Awww. No fun.

I turned around to head down the alley when I ran right into a tall figure.

"Hello," the tall cloaked person said, when I'd stumbled back. "Going somewhere?"

I heard a noise to the side and saw more cloaked figures coming around the house. No f*%#ing way, not already!

"Kenny, what's going on?" Lizzie whispered.

My eyes narrowed. I unzipped the bag and pulled out my mask. "S*#$'s about to go down, that's what."