Ill Met By Moonlight - [South Park x Male Reader]

Prologue - A and Ω

It has been many years since the last story of The New Kid, or Dovahkiin, as most used to know him as. He was a strange child, but growing up in the small mountain town had taught him resilience and courage, fighting odds stacked against him. Sometime during middle school, the mute had broke his silence, and began to speak, although very rarely and to those he knows or wants to scare. He finally revealed that his name, was [M/N], a fitting name to the young boy. It was now the final years of his high school days, and at the age of seventeen, he enrolled himself into the police academy, quickly rising through the ranks to Deputy Sheriff in under a year, just after after he turned eighteen. He wanted to change his towns enforcement system, seeing as the local Police Department was extremely corrupt and/or incompetent in normal endeavours. Some of [M/N]'s long time friends didn't like the idea of his joining, seeing as he'll just turn out to be another bigoted and racist cop. It strained some relationships, unfortunately. But the young male was determined to break the cycle, though it was hard and placed a lot of pressure on his shoulders, as he worked and attended school at the same time. All the stress, from work, his friends, and home life, had caused some unhealthy habits, such as chain smoking and excessive amounts of drinking to cope.

And as things couldn't get any worse, there's been a span of kidnappings and killings throughout town, the last few weeks. People getting torn to shreds, and their destroyed bodies being strung up for all to see. Most of the town suspects wildlife, either brazen wolves or perhaps an unhinged bear. No one really believed that, though. Everyone knew it was something much more darker than that. But everyone feared going out after dark, afraid they'll be its next meal. The morale was at an all time low, people losing patience and confidence for the police, and their Mayor. Which is why it makes total sense that most teenagers in South Park were going to a house party in the woods that fateful night, at some cabin, some rich kid in Denver owns.

You were going to, not to party and let loose like everyone else, but you had to go to make sure no dumbasses got themselves killed, or better yet, catch the mysterious killer that's been roaming South Park's shadows.

Year 2007, January 11th

[Your P.O.V]

"Fuckin' dumbasses..." I mutter, watching outside my bedroom window, seeing the multiple cars, filled with teenagers my age, head towards tonight's house party. Why can't people do as they're fuckin' told, and stay inside during curfew hours?

I slug myself towards my desk, getting ready to head out myself. Grabbing my jacket, I decided I'll just wear regular clothing, and not show up like an asshole cop to shut the party down. I mean, they shouldn't be out there in the first place, but I understand where they're coming from, even if they don't understand my place. Opening the side draw on my desk, I look down at my issued equipment from work, though I effectively own them. Sat lying comfortably next to each other, were my pair of handcuffs, and a standard service pistol. "I don't need the gun, but the handcuffs might make an appearance on some asshole's wrists tonight..." I say to no one in particular, taking the handcuffs and placing them in the inside of my jacket's pockets.

Looking up, I catch a myself in the mirror. I look like shit. My [eye-colour] eyes were gaunt, with dark rings situated below them, making me seem almost undead when contrasted with my pale, [skin colour] complexion. It looks like I haven't slept in days. Which I haven't, because I've been spending those sleeping hours looking for a deranged killer. And on top of that, people breathing down my fuckin' neck at school, those I used to call 'friend' treating me like an asshole and talking behind my back now. "Ugh, you ugly bastard..." I dryly chuckle at myself, pushing a hand through my messy [hair colour] locks. I need a haircut too...

Not wasting anymore time, I decide to leave my room, grabbing my keys on the way out. On the way down the stairs, I noticed the lack of presence of Mom and Dad, who were usually fighting across the house at each other. Mom's a depressed alcoholic, who drowns herself in Chardonnay most nights in the kitchen, if not every night. And Dad's a pot-head with repressed rage issues and locks himself in his room a lot. Look at me, psycho-analysing my own fucked up parents; guess those detective classes weren't for nothing...