MONARCH

"Sorry," 21 said as he finally released me from his crushing-yet-touching embrace. I slipped out of his arms and my feet came to rest back on Venture's patio.

21 and I had become closer over the past few months. He wasn't just my bodyguard and henchman these days, he was my friend. Hell, he was my best friend.

Once I thought about it, after the way he lost 24 a few years ago, I could hardly blame him for his reaction to seeing the Doom Factory blow up. Poor guy.

"Are you gonna be OK?" I asked him, adjusting his skewed chauffeur's cap.

"Yeah," he said, with a nod, "Sorry for being a wuss...,"

"Stop apologizing," I said, brushing my hands over my suit, "I'm sorry to have scared you like that."

I patted my burly companion on the back, and started to suggest we leave the scene... when a wave of the most wretched feeling washed over me.

"Hold on a second," I gurgled, then turned quickly from my concerned partner, to vomit copiously into Venture's swanky roof-top swimming pool. As I purged, the spasms knocked me to my knees, and I got a fresh whiff of my sodden suit. Oh, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck. The Gowanus canal! The canal in which DEAD DOLPHIN JUICE was the least-horrible thing! What had I ingested?

"Oohhh..." I put my head against the cool, smooth tile of the pool's edge as the sweat began pouring down my face. There was a maelstrom of... suckiness... in my guts, a flood of fire in my veins, and something that sounded like a Death Metal band made up of monkeys with garbage can lids inside my pounding skull.

"Dude? Dude!" 21's voice seemed far away, fading.

I rolled weakly onto my back, and watched the stars turn into fuzzy circles in the sky. A small part of me took satisfaction in the fact that I'd now managed to both crap AND puke into Venture's pool in the same week.

"Dude, can you hear me?"

I was freezing, soaking with sweat, and could swear that I would shiver myself to death. My henchman's voice sounded like we were at opposite ends of a mine shaft.

"Oh man, you're sick."

Nice work, Kano. Did you use the CRIME COMPUTER for that one?

He was kneeling beside me now, sliding an arm under my shoulders and helping me sit up. He laid his hand on my brow, and then turned his head to yell toward the penthouse.

"Hey, I need some help, here! Blue Morpho's in bad shape!"

Under-fucking-statement of the century. He stood up and hauled me clumsily to my feet, draping my arm around his neck and wrapping his massive arm around my waist. I reached up to drunkenly pat the side of his face.

"Ag-g-g-gressive... c-course... anti... b-b-biotics...!" I suggested, stuttering from the tremors wracking my frame.

From someplace far away, Venture said something about a hospital...

"He is BURNING UP!" 21 shouted, "He won't make it to the hospital!"

I held my stomach and doubled over with a sound that was part moan and part wail. 21's big, masked face swam into my line of sight again, his eyes full of worry.

"Easy, dude," he murmured in a comforting way, "It's gonna be OK."

Suuuure it is. My legs gave up the fight to keep me vertical and I stumbled against him. He scooped me up in his arms and turned toward the penthouse.

"Are you seeing this, Venture? The Blue Morpho is going to fucking DIE on your veranda if you don't help us!" 21 said hoarsely.

He and Venture were shouting back and forth as 21 carried me across the patio, and I heard Venture say something about whaling. Whaling? Soooo not cool in this day and age.

Insanely, I felt tears streaming down my face as I laid my head against 21's rock-like shoulder.

"Hang on, Boss, Venture's going to get Dr. Whalen."

Whaling was wrong. Just, WRONG. That poor little dolphin in the canal. I could still taste it...

"Don't die, dude..."

21's voice sounded husky and strange. I felt him press his wonderfully-cool cheek against my brow as I slid out of consciousness.

"Please don't die," he choked, brokenly, "Please..."

My eyes drifted shut and that was it for me. Monarch out.