A.N.: This is my first Venture Bros. fic! Never thought I'd do one but then I noticed how little Nikki/Hank love there was. Hope those who venture to the Venture Bros. FF page enjoy! Just as fore note: This is supposed to be after the episode "Everybody Come to Hank's" and the part where Dermott's real mother seduces Hank has already happened but remember he got his memory washed, so this is the first time they are seeing each other afterwards, although of course, Hank has forgotten everything.

Gritting his teeth together, veins and muscles bulging in his great tree trunk neck, a blond mutton chopped beast of a man gripped the door handle of his retro muscle car so hard it might have broken off.

A cigarette clenched tightly between his thick white teeth, and baby blue eyes fixed menacingly at the steering wheel and handles slicked with melted chocolate. A boy of about 15 with a short brown crew cut poked his head into the open garage, "Hey Brock, whatcha doing?"

Without looking back at the boy, Brock growled out slowly, "Dean, where's your brother Hank?"

Dean scratched his head, then huffed, voice cracking, "Oh him. He's with that bully Dermott! He's out for a play date at his place." Brock's eye twitched, and a corner of his clenched mouth involuntarily twisted up in a snarl like grin. "So he's with the fat kid, huh?" His baby blues twitched again, dangerously.

-Cue credits & Venture Bros. theme song Intro.-

*****The Venture Bros****

"Hi Hank..."
Hank looked up from a TV dinner he was eating, while sitting cross legged on the shag-carpeted floor of his friend, Dermott's, T.V. room. They were watching an afternoon special of the batman cartoons. A drop of slimy, congealed gravy soaked beef plopped from the fork he held up, to the pool of wet peas in his TV dinner tray and he stared up wordlessly as a woman in shorts and a tank top smiled at him, her long wavy brown hair pushed back. Beautiful large brown eyes sparkled at him, slanted mischievously.

"Hey get out of here Nikki! D'ya have to be so annoying?" Dermott, a hefty, older kid with a blond, borderline mullet, gave his sister the evil eye, from his seat on the couch that sagged beneath him.

Nikki leaned against the door frame adjoining the kitchen. She lowered a brow, "Hey don't use that tone with me young man. Moms out for bingo tonight, so I'm left to babysit. Which means I get you boys all to myself." She winked sideways at Hank whose stare was still transfixed on her. He gulped and tugged at the Boy Scout fashioned scarf tied around his neck under his shirt collar.

Dermott glared ruefully at his sister and called out, "I'm old enough not to need a babysitter! What is your problem? At least order us some pizza then. And stop standing there like a douche."

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Nikki turned to the kitchen to retrieve the phone and responded, "Fine, just be good, Dermott... While we're waiting for the pizza, you won't mind if I borrow your little friend for a few minutes...would you?"

In a top secret giant cocoon floating somewhere, a gangling man in a tight, Monarch Butterfly costume complete with life-size wings paced a platform in his head quarter compound. A thin but busty young woman with a Jackie O. haircut sat in a throne on the platform, busily stroking the head of one of two small dwarves standing loyally at her side.

Many henchmen in identical butterfly uniforms and masks surrounded them, tinkering away on computers.

In a high, nasally voice, the mighty Monarch pointed at a large overhead screen and commanded, "Zoom, 21, zoom!"

A chunky henchman, who bulged out more than any of the others in his spandex butterfly suit, twisted a dial on his computer and looked at the screen, confirming a zoomed in image of Rusty Venture standing barefoot in his home, still dressed in pajamas. The Monarch's long, twisted eyebrows dropped and he dead panned at the screen, "Really? Like really, is this guy for reals?! It's noon and he's still in his p.j.'s! What kind of arch nemesis is this?! This is the Mighty Monarch Butterfly you are dealing with! You do not want to be caught in your pajamas when he's preparing to attack!" He held up a shaking fist threateningly at the screen image of the bald man.

The Monarch cried out in frustration and smacked his forehead, as the surveillance video of Rusty showed him walking into the bathroom and sitting down on the toilet, leaving the door wide open.

A deep, husky male voice rumbled out of the young woman's throat, "Honey, Doctah Ventcha is obviously not worth your time, we can pick someone else to arch! Why don't you just quit it with the poor doctah? He's not arching material."

Spinning towards his beloved, the Monarch spat out with a vengeance, "It must be Venture! Mark my words, he will go down! Just this one last time, let me take him down once and for all, my sweet. This is the perfect opportunity! He's just waiting to be jumped on! To be mounted and ridden for all his dear life! He's completely alone, without those meddling boys who are always in the way, and without that big bad body guard of his. Without the bodyguard, Venture's as frail as a baby cow meant for veal! Victory shall be mine today!"

His wife, Dr. Girlfriend grumbled, "I don't think you're supposed to use veal in a sentence like that, honey, it's still a sensative topic with animal rights activists."

Dean held on for dear life as he bounced about in the passenger seat of Brock's throttling car. Bent forward with primal determination and a maniacal smile pasted on, the tough body guard sped along the road. Dean rattled out, "It can't have been Hank though! He knows better than to touch your car!"

Brock nodded, "Exactly, but that fat and stupid kid he hangs around with, Dermott, doesn't. And that little pigs hooves are always covered in chocolate, he eats those Mars Bars like they're oxygen." Letting out a guttural roar, Brock thundered, "Ahhhh! I'm gonna finally kill the little bastard!"

Dean shook, "But Brock you're-you're out of your mind right now!surely you don't want his blood on your hands!"

Halting to a stop roughly in front of the Fictel residence, Brock laughed in a low voice, "Yes, yes...blood!"

Back at the venture compound, the balding defunct scientist, Rusty, woke up in his mod bedroom and walked around the compound, stopping in the hanger, where he looked around with seriously concerned eyes. "Where is everyone?" He wondered aloud.

A campy jingle beeped from the watch he was just about to latch onto his bony wrist.

A stat-icky screen blinked on the face of the watch, and Dean's face popped up. Rusty shouted, "Dean? Dean! Where are you? I'm hungry and no one-"

Dean interrupted frantically, "Dad, you've got to come to the Fictel's Residence! I-I'm afraid Brock's going to go on a homicidal rampage!"

Rusty Venture stared at the tiny image of his cloned son blinking and shouting at him, then with a hand to his scraggly goatee, he murmured as if dusting off his memory, "Fictel..."

A.N.: Don't forget to review!