Warning: This story has gay sex that can be between characters with age gaps in excess of 10 years. It will also contains dubious concent as well as casual henchmen death... After all, it contains Brock Samson. As a side note, I am not a Venture Bros writer so the characters may be occ.

Disclaimer: I do not own a show, much less this one. Do not report me please.

Pairings: Dean/Dr Impossible, Baron Ünderbheit, Phantom Limb, Otaku Senzuri, Others.

Brock Samson/Many women (implied)

Rusty/His right hand ((lol))

Monarch/Sheila (Doctor Girlfriend)

Chapter one: I SAID NO!

There are things in life to be proud, many many things. Being a Doctor for instance, or helping the homeless. Heck, picking up a dropped boom for someone else was something to be proud of.

Dean Venture remembered when he made people proud, when he made himself proud and when he did things worth doing at every operrunity... Now was not one of those times.

No. Right now he was lying on his back with his legs rapped around the waist of an jackass, letting said jackasses sweat drip all over him for $250... To say the least of the liquids that were curently touching him.

"Hey, kiddo. Look at me. I am not giving you the money to imitate a pillow." The cool and very mocking voice of The Phantom Limb. 'God dammit his voice is annoying and that gosh darn it smirk... Why can't he shut the fuck up?' Dean thought, casting his eyes at the annoyance currently inside of him. This seemed to please the Phantom and after a few more minutes, boom, bang, bow... It was over and done with. The Phantom placed the money on the table as Dean rose and used the tissues to wipe himself off, stepping into his tight pleather pants and grabbing the cash.

"Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Venture" the Phantom said from his bed, calmly sitting under the covers. "I trust our arrangement stands?" Dean rolled his eyes and pulled on the worn old Cotten t-shirt he had worn there, redoing his belt as he spoke. "Yeah yeah. For the hundredth time, I won't tell anyone you fucked a boy if you don't tell my dad, brother or Brock I exist..." He grabbed his tagged old brown leather boots and pulled them on. "Or my self for that matter" he said, speaking of the clone his numb skull of a father had replaced him with after he vanished. "Agreed" The Phantom said, waving Dean off, seemingly bored now. As Dean walked out he caught his reflection in the vanity.

'Golly, I look worse then usual' he thought, seeing how he looked. His red roots were starting to show under his black a purple hair dye, an idea he got from Tris, but that was not the worst of it. Dean had lost more weight making what was once a thin form near anorexic and he had deep, purple bags under his eyes from his lack of sleep. Not to mention the strange lack lister look of his skin "If you need me, you know my number" were his parting words as he grabbed the brown pleather jacket, a thrift store find, and showed himself out.

In the distance he could see a red car that reminded him of Brock. "I got to beat feet and skedaddle already" he muttered to himself. He still used that outdated lingo when speaking to himself, mostly because it reminded him of Hank and he missed Hank. After all, Hank was the reason he was even in this situation.

It had all started three years before when he and Hank had been on one of their crazy adventures with their father. It had been a simple bought mission, (if you wanted to call it that) they were just looking over some old caves, looking for something their granddad had left there that their father wanted to sell. But it had all gone wrong in a flash and there was a rockslide. Hank had been crushed, rendered little more then a pile of ground meat and bone. Understandably Dean had panicked and ended up hitting his head and passing out. When he had woken up Hank had been in the bed next to him and Brock and their dad had acted like nothing had happened. But, Dean knew that the Hank he spoke with and played with was not his Hank, not the brother he had grown to love and it the pain and guilt had started to fester. After only three weeks he had been unable to take it and Dean had run away, dropping his clothes off in a dumpster and putting in a pair of kids shorts he had taken off of some poor strangers clothes line, along with his current Shirt. From there, like a fool, the misguided and depressed teen had gone to Dr. Impossible for help. The same Dr who's wife had recently left him. The same Dr who was really not a good person and from there it had all went down hill.

The night Dean showed up it had rained and he had been soaked, causing the white shirt to stick to his skin and, along with the very small shorts, there was nothing left to the imagination. Dr. Impossible for his part had been drinking. He had let Dean stay with him, but only for a price. A price that Dean did not understand until it was already to late and his life was forever ruined. By the time Dean got out from under Dr. Impossible clutches his clone had already taken his place and was playing with Hank out front. Dean knew he would never be able to hurt his brother by exposing the horrible secret. He had left, deciding to never go back. This had led to a need to make money. Unfortunately after several failed attempts Dean had only found one way for a teenage boy with no home, not many stills to speak of and with no parental signature was what Dr. Impossible had put him through. But, it did pay well and it seemed an odd amount of villains wanted to pay him...