Chapter 4

[Author's notes: So the scene has been set and we head on toward the inevitable. Traps will be laid and the puzzle pieces will be set out to be seen. Will you figure it out before I finish this tale or will I surprise and amaze you with the end which is already set in stone. Starting in this chapter I will begin toss references in my final notes to pin point where I pull my material. I think that you will be forced to look at the Venture Brothers series in a whole new light once I am done.

Be prepared dear reader for the twists and turns that this chapter will take. Pay close attention and you might just unravel 21's plan.]

21 sat in his favorite corner booth of the bar that he had set up in the cocoon. A place where the henchmen could gather after battle or during down time and share a drink or a laugh and forget how miserable and disposable their lives were. It was the only concession that he had received from the Monarch when he had originally returned to service following the death of 24.

The results had been immediate. The newfound sense of togetherness (would it be too corny to say family?) made the rag tag group of henchmen into a band of brothers; though it did nothing to increase their ability to fight. With the change of mentality and under his careful tutelage he molded the mass of bodies into squadrons of soldiers in service to the Monarch. The sense of camaraderie made them easy to train. Sure, none of them would be able to take on an OSI agent or even a guild blackguard but compared to what they had been; they became hardened warriors.

It was after hours and even though the bar had long ago stopped serving 21 threw back shots of whiskey form the bottle on the table and nursed a third beer as he tried desperately to clear his troubled mind. There had been a time when he had talked out his troubles with his friend Henchman 24, alive and then spectral, but he had lain his friend to rest and regaled his spirit to the land of wish fulfillment. Lately he had taken to drinking like a fish to water, but it didn't help him the way 24 had. It just left him with regret weighing heavy on his soul and a bad taste in his mouth the next day.

He looked over at the other glass on the table. It sat across from him and he watched as a bead of condensation traveled down the slender neck of the glass to join its brothers in a pool below it. He was reminded of himself. He had tried to use the bubbling turmoil inside himself to fuel his new fitness kick and his preparations but they grew faster than he could manage to feed on them. The feelings bubbled and ran over inside of him, finally pooling in the depth of his soul like a deep dark well of hate, anger, self-loathing, depression, and pity. Lots of things, it seemed, became philosophical metaphors for him self when he was drinking.

The sad thing was that he hadn't even planned to drink, but when he had arrived, already after hours, and let himself in with the spare set of keys that he had hidden in a desk drawer; He simply couldn't stop himself. Not to say that he was an alcoholic. He had ample time and means to drink himself to death, but he had kept himself to a few beers a night and maybe the odd binge on a weekend when things really got him down. Those were usually the weeks when he received checks for 'The Flight of the Monarch'. A joke at first, the book had become a cult favorite. Its success was divided equally between his self and 24's father (though he didn't know what the money was for he spent it quickly enough). It led 21 to try a second time and the resulting 'Hench Life' saw moderate success. This money he had used to buy a house for his folks, move them to Florida, take over their single story suburban, and build his new outfit. None of that had brought him happiness and that was part of why he drank now, because he had found happiness here, once long ago, back when it was a rec room style lounge with coin operated vending machines and rat eaten couches where he and 24 had played Tekken 3.

"Your drink is a little warm." 21 said as he poured another shot, not looking up from it.

"I wasn't sure I was going to come." The familiar deep timber came creeping out of a small opening between a pulled down fedora and an upturned trench coat collar. Still he knew who she was before she spoke or flashed her alabaster skin as she slid into the booth across from him. He had smelled her perfume, as light as it was, when she had crept in the room.

This wasn't the first time they had met like this. Over the years there had been time when he would come to her for help or more recently she would come to him. Now they were here as themselves, no favors to ask or to give.

"The Moppets just got back and had to be debriefed, and of course I had to wait for the Monarch to fall to sleep."

"Of course."

"And I didn't know if you would show up. It's not like the last time we met up here. The whole Butterglider thing."

21 chuckled a little, "Did anyone ever tell him how much that thing made him look like the Green Goblin?"

"Who?"

"Spiderman villain; never mind."

"Oh."

She took a sip of her drink and sighed. She leaned over and the oversized hat almost touched the table.

"How did you know that I would show up?" She asked.

21 shrugged, "A hunch. I knew that you would have some questions. Questions that you probably wouldn't want to ask in front of your husband and you wouldn't want anyone to see us together, at least at this point, which means just going to my room was out of the question, as was setting up a rendezvous, but you knew how hard I fought for this place and how much I enjoyed it so I would come here soon. Of course after seeing the reception I got, and knowing that I would always be alone when I am here, you figured I wouldn't come during normal hours because I would be swarmed. So that leaves us here, and now."

She was taken aback, "You really thought this through."

21 slammed back another shot and filled the glass back up, "Na, just a hunch. Maybe you should ask before we run out of time."

"Or I'm out of whiskey." He said shaking the half empty bottle.

"What happened to you?" she asked genuine concern in her voice.

He looked at her for the first time since she sat down, the anger in his eyes, somehow magnified by the red tint of his goggles frightened her, "I made a normal life for myself and found out that I didn't fit in it."

He bit back tears of rage and despair, and went to take a sip of his beer but put the bottle back down un-drunk. He let out a sigh that left him empty from the pit of his soul. It was the last three months of his life.

"All I could think about was this life," He stretched the truth, and gestured about him, "Compared to that lawn work and paying bills just didn't satisfy me. Dressing up in a costume and fighting other guys in costumes is all I'm good at. It's all I know. I tried to go back to LARPing but it just wasn't enough. There wasn't any real danger. So I took martial arts classes at the annex and tried cage fighting but they didn't allow costumes. Eventually all that was left was this life."

Once again he gestured around the empty room.

Gently she slipped her hands under his mask, he thought about pulling away but dispite everything (even himself) he loved the way that her soft hands felt on his unshaven cheeks, and slowly removed it. It fell to the table and he ran his hand over his long ponytail to straighten it.

"Gary, why did you come back?" She asked looking into his eyes.

He did turn away then, "Do you want me to say I came back for you?"

Shocked, she gasped. She was surprised by the suddenness and directness of his response, but after a moment answered quietly and honestly, "Well, yeah."

He turned back to look at her, genuinely confused.

She turned slightly away from him, "Don't read too much into that, I am a girl after all."

"Okay. Definitely liking the honesty."

"Would you believe that I didn't mean to hurt you?"

"No. There are a lot of things that I believe but not that. Not after you jumped on the band wagon, as quick as you did, when the Monarch started off on his tirade."

I'm sorry!"

Gary turned away again but she gently turned him back to her, "I really am sorry. It wasn't right what we did to you and I regret it, but he's my husband and I have to support him no matter how stupid or thankless he is. You know that better than anyone. I was surprised and flattered by your confession, and more than a little sad but as long as we're in this racket things are the way they are."

"Shelia, I..."

Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth and talked through her hand, "You know my name?"

Gary pulled her hand away from her mouth, "of course I do, I know everything about you. Plus Phantom Limb said it like a million times."

She wanted to cover her face again but Gary held it to the table.

"Yes, I do but to hear you say it the way you did was too much for me. It was like having my heart curb checked. I couldn't take it. Frankly I stopped listening after that. I was done."

She gripped his hand in hers, "I know; I saw the look in your eyes. I think my heart died a little too."

They sat in silence for a moment studying their hands and thinking of how the past effected the present.

"Gary, you never answered my question. Why did you come back here? Any guild member, the Revenge Society, or even the OSI would have been glad to have you, especially now," She paused to caress a well toned arm, "You look fantastic by the way."

He mumbled a 'Thank you' into his beer.

"So, after all of that, why did you come back to the Monarch?"

He sighed again and tried to formulate the truest generic answer that he could, "Right now, it's where I need to be."

"I understand." She checked her watch, half past four in the morning already, "I... have to go."

She took off her hat and, leaning in close to him, she kissed him softly on the cheek. She stayed close to him and he began to feel intoxicated by her perfume, far more than the whiskey had been able to accomplish.

"Don't do anything stupid." She whispered in his ear and slid out of the booth.

He stopped her as she had almost reached the door, and grabbed her arm, near the elbow, "Shelia wait!"

She turned back to him pleading with her eyes, "Please don't call me Shelia in public. I don't want there to be any more awkwardness than there already is."

In a fit of passion that he didn't know that he had in him or maybe it was just the whiskey; he turned her around to face him grasping both her arms. "I need you to know that I love you, I do, and as much as it hurts me or whatever I may do I love you. As much as I try not to love you it is more powerful than that and love is not for today or tomorrow, but for now and forever."

He kissed her hard and the passion of the moment and the surprise of the kiss melted her to him in a way that he had not even known that he had longed for. She kissed him back with a surprising passion all her own, but, while the moment was sweet, it wasn't long and she pulled away from him. Her face was drained of all blood and he let her go.

Tears began to stream down her face, and she weakly pounded at his chest, "How could you do this to me?"

She ran from the room, stifling her tears with her oversized hat, and Gary was left alone in the dark room.

From the deep recesses of his mind a familiar voice spoke up.

"Smooth move Exlax."

The next morning saw Brock Samson, all 6ft 5 inches and 280lbs of him, hanging from a cliff face like an oddly shaped wind chime. It wasn't terribly early, nearly 10am, and he was halfway down from the road where he had parked his car. He had no ropes or climbing gear and was picking his way down carefully, searching for hand and foot holds. This was his way. Do not think; just act. The confidence that he felt in his own abilities was all that he needed for protection. Still, it was a very physically draining task and sweat poured off of him in rivulets and dampened his hair.

Sure, he could have traveled through the valley between the cliffs but he had already put this off for months and doing it this way he could hardly turn back, and leave the task undone.

He felt his feet touch the gravel valley floor, and he brushed his hands off on his pants and sighed.

What was left of the limo was mostly a tangled mass of metal. There were chunks of the midsection scattered about the valley floor from where the gas tank had exploded on impact and the rear wheels were missing. That wasn't a surprise though because the Alchemist had turned the back wheels to gold. The rear door had been torn from its hinges somehow and lay a few feet away, which did surprise Brock. He went over to check it out.

From the way that the hinges were torn, he could determine that the pressure that was applied to the door came from the inside. That was worrisome but he couldn't jump to conclusions until he had done a thorough inspection. So he climbed inside and quickly found what he had really been looking for. The smell was the first indicator, so he wasn't surprised to find, wedged between a front and rear seat, the corpse. Months of insect activity had stolen away her stark beauty and flawless grace in a way that years of the life of a spy hadn't been able to. Her black cat-suit had been torn and some animal, probably a coyote, had taken both foot and boot from her right leg. Brock reached out and stroked what was left of her red hair.

"Molotov," He whispered her name, his voice resonating in the confined space, "How could he leave you like this?"

Carefully he tore away the seats and her, all too light, corpse fell into his waiting arms. Despite the smell, he cradled her to his chest as he picked his way back out of the wreckage.

Hours later, he placed the last pile of dirt and gravel on top of the grave he had dug, using the torn off door as a spade, and finally draped her heart shaped eye patch across a corner of the cross he had fashioned. Not a very religious man Brock knelt down and lost himself in memories. Soon the moment passed and Brock, sorely, stood again brushing off his knees. Sorrow and anger swirled about inside him vying for possession of his emotions, but duty came first.

Starting from the limo, he went about looking for the minute traces of a trail. Brock found it, as he knew that he would, and followed the shambling path that the other had taken along the canyon valley until it disappeared into the small stream that ran along the middle. He travelled down it for a few more miles, hoping against hope, that there would be a point where he could pick it up on the other side. Eventually he had to give up and make his way back.

Standing over the makeshift grave again, the sun beginning to dip down over the horizon, he felt drained. He had hoped, in his heart of hearts, that he would find the huge remains of Monstroso and that Molotov Cocktease would be nowhere to find, or at worse the limo would be empty. He was disappointed and far sadder than he had thought he would be, but over the grave that he had dug for her, he vowed that he would find the colossal piece of trash that had left her there and make him pay.

"Why couldn't you have settled for me?" He asked the cold ground. So, unable to find a suitable answer, he knew that there was only one thing for him to do, and that involved climbing back up the nearly sheer cliff face. Once again stone-faced, he pulled out his knife. As drained as he was he would need all the help he could get.

[Final thoughts: Okay. I realize that I have made somewhat of a leap here with 21 and Dr. Girlfriend. I postulate a mutual attraction that built up throughout season four. Everyone knows that 21 has the hots for Dr. Girlfriend, but if you go back and watch there are key moments, outside of the kiss in 'Assisted Suicide' that point to a growing attraction towards 21, right up to the events of 'Operation: Prom'. Starting with a budding concern she shows towards him in 'Return to Malice' which starts with a conversation about his mental state and the loss he feels at the death of 24. Later in that same episode her actions show, by directing Dr. Venture and Sgt. Hatred away from her home, concern towards her husband and keeping him out of trouble, but as he was not involved, why should she do this? Why would she also keep the Monarch form going to the Cocoon? Were he to go to the Cocoon he might have become involved in the plot that 21 had cooked up, 21 presumably being at the Cocoon. One of these actions doesn't fit into the scenario. Her actions show a concern for both her husband and 21. She could simply have ratted 21 out or confronted him and it would have saved the Monarch embarrassment and possible involvement. He is, after all, a henchman and, as such, expendable.

Later in 'The Diving Bell Vs. The Butterglider' as 21 gives his speech her expression is one of almost awe as he rattles off his ideas, until he reaches past the realm of possibility. As in that episode when she confronts him in the lounge, she makes references to his physical appearance saying "I've noticed". Not much in itself but compiled with the rest it is given more weight. She also seems genuinely surprised in his interest in her when he says that he knows her favorite drink.

In the episode 'Assisted Suicide' there is much to lead one farther down this train of thought. Carefully watch her expressions as they converse. They share common interests, 21 and Dr. Girlfriend, which both seem to find surprising and they are far more interested in their conversation than they are concerned about the Monarch's welfare. When he postulates that she could find someone better she blows it off as an impossibility and there is a hint of sadness in her look. Then when 21 does kiss her it takes her only a second to kiss him back. When the Monarch does wake up her look is one of guilt. Later in 'Operation: Prom' the Monarch blows this off saying that they have an 'open relationship', which makes one wonder why she felt guilty.

Tracking back a bit, in the episode 'Pinstripes and Poltergeists', two more pieces are piled onto the board. They are small and barely worth notice, unless you are looking for them. Dr. Girlfriend, quite unnecessarily makes sure to lean in front of 21. She doesn't have any real reason to do this. She could have leaned on the consol panel or looked at it over his shoulder, but she purposefully puts an arm over his chair and leans down, which puts her ample bosom directly in his face. Then when 21 goes to attack Monstroso, we see Dr. Girlfriend lash out at her moppets for the first time, and depending on how you look at it only time, when they try to get 21 in trouble. Again she is shown defending 21 while in the guise of something else.

The most damning evidence is in 'Operation: Prom', which I watched through again and again because it can easily be missed and it made me re-watch the rest of season four to check for other signs because it was so out of place. Earlier in the episode Dr. Girlfriend makes a small effort to stop the Monarch from going after 21 but to no avail, which is not surprising because following him would mean heading to the Venture's front door but could be more when looked at through the prism of events already laid out, then if you pay attention to her face during the interchange between the Monarch and 21, a hard task as the Monarch kind of steals one's attention, her face goes from surprise to contemplation to sadness before the Monarch physically pulls her into the conversation and she takes on a kind of bemused look.

While I am willing to admit that all of this could simply be animators having fun and undertones that were not intentional due to writing and performance, and that I'm even seeing more than is there, but it makes a solid case for where I have taken this story, and allows me to explain it away within canon.

I hope that you have enjoyed it so far, please continue to read, and let me know what you think.]