Fallen Star - (Kyle Broflovski X Reader)

Chapter 1: Spilt blood and coffee (Kyle)

Killing wasn't something that came naturally to Kyle. It took a lot of work, both mentally and physically, to block out the moral compass he'd had since middle school in order to get the job done. He always made sure the death was quick and painless, no matter how much the casualty deserved it. He didn't like to call them victims as in his mind, that word was reserved for helpless people who had no idea about what was coming. The people that Kyle killed did, and that's why they earned the punishment he gave them.

He had never planned to become a killer. He was smart, the smartest out of his redneck town of South Park. He was gonna make it out of there with a full scholarship into the most prestigious school in the country, and become a human rights lawyer to make the world a better place. But a few years of doing that destroyed any hope he had left for humanity. Day in, day out, he would fight for the little guy, and every time the politicians and businessmen with more money and power would crush him. He would come home defeated and distraught at his inability to do anything to help. So, he took matters into his own hands.

It started a year ago. He had just lost a case to a particularly sleazy fellow lawyer who had raped his secretary, but due to her not having the proper paperwork and him greasing the hands of the judge, he wasn't charged. The man had no remorse, and that night at a nearby bar Kyle overheard him brag about how that girl wasn't the first and he planned to hire 'another piece of ass that I can tap then send back over the border when she gets boring'. Kyle couldn't take it, so that night he followed the man home and waited until he fell asleep. Kyle had never planned to kill him, maybe rough him up enough to get him to leave the country. But seeing how soundly he slept after ruining that poor woman's life snapped something inside of him. He took the sharpest knife he could find and made several quick plunges into the man's heart. Apart from the blood pooling around him and the several stab wounds in his body, the man looked exactly as he did when he was sleeping. Kyle took the knife and ran back home, his adrenaline catching up before his mind did. He only realized what he had done when he was back home safe in his apartment, his hand gripping the knife so hard he was sure it's handle print would be carved into his skin. He spent the next month agonizing over what he'd done, or more importantly, how good he felt doing it. Eliminating scum like him from the world was exactly why he'd become a human-rights lawyer in the first place, and now he had found a way to do it permanently.

Since then, there have been a handful of others. People the world would be better without. He made sure to pick casualties that he would felt no remorse over, and then took them out. It was painful work, and not just the physical aspect of murder. The constant justifying as to why he had to do what he did, it exhausted him to no end. He grappled with it everyday, along with the restless anxiousness of being caught. Since that first kill, he made sure that nothing could be traced back to him, from shoving on boots double his size to wearing wigs in order to hid his unruly (noticeable) red hair. Still, sometimes he wondered if it would really be the worst thing to be sent to prison for his crimes.

His parents would be distraught, but since moving out of his hometown he didn't see them that much anyways. The only family member he kept in touch with was his little brother Ike, who even then only came to visit him when he needed a break from school. Kyle appreciated these visits, and decided that he would give Ike his apartment if the cops ever came knocking. He was the only other person who even came to it nowadays. He didn't have any friends in the city. He thought he would be lifelong friends with his South Park buddies like Stan Marsh and Kenny McCormick, and he wished he could blame his declining mental state from the killings on it, but the honest truth was that they just lost touch. At the end of senior year Stan had stayed in South Park, while Kenny had fucked off to who knows where the minute he turned 18 to get away from his abusive parents. He hadn't heard from either in years, and while sometimes his fingers lingered on their phone numbers when he was feeling extra miserable with the world, he never saw the point. They would exchange pleasantries, reminisce about their childhood nostalgia for a couple minutes, and upon realizing that they no longer had anything in common, hang up. It wasn't worth the effort. Nothing was worth it anymore, apart from the killings.

He still worked at a law firm however, which had recently hired a new junior lawyer who he was supposed to 'mentor'. He heard she had graduated top of her class and made the Dean's List. Anyone with her achievements was surely sought after by much more high-paying firms, so despite not knowing her, he found it admirable that she had decided to go into human rights. He wanted to be excited to meet her that fateful morning, but he barely registered joy as an emotion anymore. The only time he ever felt anything was the rush of adrenaline he got from removing the dirt that roamed the earth. Plus, he had spent the night stalking researching a potential casualty, and finding out all the shitty things the person he was destined to kill had done always depressed him. So he stopped by a coffee cart before going into work. He had just been handed his usual when it was splashed all over his shirt. A young woman on a neon pink bike had just crashed into him, toppling them both to the ground. Neither were hurt, but she acted like she had accidentally maimed him.

'I am so so so sorry, are you alright? Oh god, please don't be mad at me or anything. I swear it was just an accident, sometimes I get lost in my thoughts when riding, and then shit like this happens. I'm so sorry once again. Here, I'll pay for a replacement coffee, and I'll pay for you to get a bagel because your shirt looks really expensive and I really don't want you to ask me to pay for that'.

She was talking and moving at 100 miles an hour, so much so that by the time he'd gotten up, she'd paid the owner of the cart and was back on her bike again. Her helmet was about 2x the size of her head, Kyle was surprised she could see clearly under there. Or considering she'd just crashed into him, maybe not. His eyebrows were burrowed together in confusion, and she was still talking about how sorry she was, so he leaned in closer and tipped her helmet back so he could see her face properly. He had done that so he could reassure her not to worry about the coffee, but he was so taken back by her face his mouth just gaped open. She was beautiful, glowing under the soft light of the morning sun. Her lips were slightly parted, like she wanted to say something to him but the words weren't coming out. He was as much gazing into her eyes and she was his, but after a moment hers widened. The look of tenderness she once had was replaced with anxiousness, but Kyle was too dazed by her appearance to offer any kind of comfort.

'I, uhmm, have to go. I'm sorta already late for my first day at my new job, and as cute as you are, we can't spend all day staring at each other'.

She fastened the helmet back onto her head, and cycled away from him. He watched her do so, only interrupted from his trance by the owner handing him the coffee and bagel. He grabbed it and headed back on his path to work. The spilt coffee had now dried and made a nasty stain on his shirt, but he had spares in his office. Plus, he didn't care. Only two thought were racing through his mind

I just met the most heavenly woman I've ever seen. And she thinks I'm cute.