So, final chapter. I wasn't going to make this big and extravagant like TMKTHQ, but I did enjoy it anyways. :D It ties in with a continuation of the beginning of the first chapter of that story, but you will also see a well-known Japanese legend involving a certain eight-headed serpent and an artifact I created with its help - including a mention of a real Japanese deity figure - as well as that from my boyfriend who loves the myth. This artifact is especially important for Monty in earning the trust of the National Museum in letting him return to them.

Read and review when you finish, but once more: NO FLAMES.

Chapter Six

A Weapon to Seek

This time was completely different than the usual. According to his tormentor, being inside him as well as so many touches could only do so much, and there was one thing he'd wanted to do "for" him for awhile that he never imagined he would. But why? he dared to ask.

Because the mouth has to have its use now, don't you think?

He just as soon as moaned at the hinted meaning as to what the creature meant; he endured every position they could get into, but this one had never come to mind until now. He didn't even want to think about this at all, but it was happening now... Yono, I don't think I can -

The other being laughed. Oh, no, no, you misunderstand, pet. I am not asking you to give it to me - yet. He shuddered at the image conjured up in his mind at the task he would find himself doing soon if not now. The tail caressed his face like a tender father assuring his son he was not in trouble - completely opposite of his own in life. Isn't this counting as a pleasant experience, Monty? I'm sure you have never done this in life...nor has another ever done this for you.

He shut his eyes then, trying to shut out a familiar pair of expressive jade eyes that haunted his dreams and daylight hours before and after that one night neither of them would be lucky for again - because of everything he did to her, everything she did to him, and overall because of their differences...but most of all his doom. She would go on with her life and learn to forget about him. His silence was the deity's answer, and it satisfied the other.

Excellent. Which means I shall be the first; then your turn will come.

Now he could not suppress the gasp that escaped his lips as the tongue found its way between his legs, tasting the tip before moving over the top of the length, then swirled around and back down. His legs and then his entire body trembled that his face scalded with shameful enjoyment.

~o~

Another night like this, and waking up at two in the morning was expected, only for Chippy to visit him when he happened across his master in the kitchen. Barely even two months passed since his release from therapy, and very little improvements on his mental state made a difference if his return to his old career had done so.

Monty sat at his study desk, surrounded with stacks of old texts and everything that made him feel welcomed back, with no more running and hiding - and no Team Possible to swoop in and deal with him. They must still assume that he was still in the ground where he belonged. It was a great relief that he wouldn't have to deal with them at all, but who knew how long that peace would last.

Another nightmare about the demon who held his soul in the palm of his paw. There had been little unwanted tightening below his waist and no use of his hand to save his troubles, thank goodness, and to replace it all were tea and meditation - add in medication with Dr. Grave's kind hand, but those damned antidepressants could be so limited on his sanity. She had known good and well what she was doing when she stated she'd let him go just to help him as being locked up would not solve any of his problems. She knew he wasn't mentally mad, but if anyone found out, her license would be lost along with her own reputation just to help a "monkey man".

Ah, to feel fresh air on his face, the smell of freedom - it was like he wanted to just forget the controlling world once again, tear off his clothes and run into the wild again, but he knew he couldn't do that. At least, not for a while. Not only he did what he knew he had to do, and it enraged him. Not being able to live on energy, but at least his research would help.

"Milord...will you be well again?" That was what Bates had asked him as soon as he set foot out of the institution of London, the shock in the older man's eyes evident at the sight of his physical changes. Monty felt it in his bones and swore to get to the dojo with the monkey ninjas firsthand, if only for today and then phone the museum the next. No doubt Bates had already spoken to them along with Grave.

"One day," he'd said in response. One day, he said, if not today or tomorrow even. Six months of being confined and illness as well as the horrendous acts in bed alone, tormented by hellish mental desecration...he wanted to just distract himself and pick up meditating at the castle as rehab and medication distracted him from entering another place of serenity.

When the morning broke, he was up without even pausing to relax as there was always little time to relax. Work called, training called, and then a cup of tea following lone meditation. He had to say it was better than just sitting and going mad. Bates stopped nagging him, but Fiske knew better. He knew the man better as he'd been raised since birth and served until it did not work out with his new course in life. Now Bates was back as though it never ended between them.

Monty half expected the man to return to his family again at any time, but he remained if not officially as his servant. He frowned to himself, wondering why on Earth Bates would do this for him, as if he still owed his debt to him - and then his monkey ninjas all gathered before him after training that morning to ook their answer, having joined Bates' side and shocking their master to his core.

"Oh, he cares about me, eh? Did he CARE about me -" he sneered at them all. "- when I needed him as we pursued the last of the jade monkeys, or when I came back after trying to fulfill the monkey monk's prophecy, hmm?!" They stepped back but didn't cower. It appeared they were no longer afraid of him, which angered and surprised him. He'd always known they respected him as their leader, but this pushed the boundaries of bold.

"So, you've all turned against me, haven't you? I go away for six more months after finding that you have all remained for me - but now I come back and see you taking Bates' side," he stated, but their screeches objected before ceasing even though he didn't command it to end; the thought did cross his mind. Monty exhaled and slumped his shoulders. "I see. Fine, I'll keep him around, but only just to owe him as well as the lot of you for saving my life."

The word soul was left unspoken as they all know that saving that part of himself was still far from over.

He had to put the matters of reconciliation with his ex-valet aside and focused on the present, in which he found himself submersed in the opened book. Years ago, he had the copy of the ancient legends of Yamato no Orochi - the great eight-headed serpent who devoured young virgins each year for a century before the sun goddess slayed him with the very sword made from a scale of the beast by her brother.

Monty had to suppress a chuckle as he had to reread the myth again purely because it was one of the greatest tales from his youth that he took seriously even if it wasn't simian-related. He still laughed at how each head was removed after the demon himself drank a vast amount of sake to be dazed.

But it was not the sword that killed the creature that he was commissioned by the British Museum to find, in order to earn their trust as well as to be allowed to come back to them. It was the notorious creation that had come to exist after the sibling deities defeated the eight-headed snake: the Mask of Orochi.

When the mask itself was first designed, it belonged to an elder of the nearby village who saw the corpse of the eight-headed monster and remembered the story of its strong hide, so sought to make a mask as means to protect his son. Yet he passed on before he had the chance. The mask was then given to his child, who gave it to his child and so forth - until one day it fell into the hands of one "Yamato" who saw no value and wanted to get rid of it by giving it away. But the mask itself was cursed, and all who had it who were not a member of the elder's family were stricken ill, and DEATH claimed them within a week.

"Yes, this is perfect," he mused aloud as he poured through his notes and the old pages. This was thousands of years' worth of finding what the legends of Orochi himself neglected to mention so often in American culture. "The museum needs something not worth being simian in order for me to regain their trust."

There were various shrines of the gods and goddesses throughout Japan - but as for what became of the mask after the death of Mr. Yamato in the legend, it vanished mysteriously, possibly taken to a shrine near one of the various seas. It had to be one dedicated to Amaterasu herself, the one who slayed the beast. He would not be surprised if the tomb itself became defaced with abandonment and neglect, pillars broken and the prayer slip broken which hid the mask from the world...but no one had ever found it, according to historical archives. Montgomery Fiske would be the first, and this was perfect to get his reputation back on track - if only to secure means to find a weapon against the Yono. There was ALWAYS a weapon against a god in the legends.

He found himself holding a possibly accurate drawing of the Mask of Orochi, drawn to the sight and almost exhaled. It wasn't up his own alley in the field, but it was fascinating nevertheless. Depicted was a rough, crudely carved surface to look like the face of a shinigami - god of death, to translate to anyone who didn't understand - painted black with red around the eyes and the lips of the mask. No doubt that if Bates saw this, he would shiver.

~o~

It was a good thing that the trip to Japan might be the last one to take, because he felt he was too old to travel anymore, but barely months ago had been worth it to retrieve Lord Fiske's petrified form - so he hoped, and thus far he hadn't regretted any longer because he saw some of the changes in the man.

He'd seen the ancient text and the drawing of the hideous mask he was commissioned to locate by the museum. "I shall not need you for the trip," Fiske told him smoothly as he'd donned his old explorer's garments and pulled on his gloves and boots, the latter making the man wince because he was used to being barefoot with his prehensile appendages. But at least he would be able to remove them when he touched down across the globe.

"Will the monkey ninjas be with you?" he asked, rubbing his hands together, receiving a chuckle.

"Of course. I can never be without them. We are taking the charter."

His father's old first-class charter had been left to Bates in his will, and now he was back to put it to good use. "This is the first time it's been taken off the ground - since myself and the monkeys," Bates said.

Fiske chuckled. "Should be most interesting. I have to say I'm looking forward to this. If the cheer squad -" He stopped himself right there. "No, I don't know if I can use that to call them again, given they are not children anymore. If they think they can stop me, I'll flee with my life instead of fighting them and allowing myself to be taken again."

Bates frowned. "They ought to have heard about your rehabilitation by now, milord," he suggested. Or if not, his mind added, then the entire world couldn't know every detail, or maybe they just did not care.

"Perhaps."

"I wish you good luck, milord."

Monty smiled at him then, and it wasn't slyly or even forced - it was genuine that his old caregiver was finally not objecting to anything he planned, but if one thing did go wrong on this excavation, then Fiske was back to below the earth, or in jail again. He didn't want all their hard work to fall off the cliff yet again. "I needed to hear that, Bates."

~o~

If he had any hard feelings towards the National Museum, he admitted he had none when they allowed him back in when he brought in the wondrous Mask of Orochi and was awarded for it. Given he experienced enough in his lifetime, he took the risk to believe in the legend and not put it over his own face. There would be more chances to take, but this was not one of them. As he grievously made the mistake so many years ago...

Dr. William Robertson, the museum's chief benefactor, took over not long before he had let himself be ensnared by Yono; of course, the man was lenient and allowed bygones be bygones. In addition, he and Dr. Grave were longtime friends; in short, she was a friend of his family, so Monty automatically assumed that was why he was brought back so easily than he should have been. But it had been done, and he had less weight lifted from his shoulders.

"What's in the past remains in the past, Monty boy," the older man told him. He was older than Fiske but younger than Bates, married with two or three adult children, and a decent man that Monty knew he would have no trouble with. "You've proven yourself true to your word. The museum will have the Orochi Mask on display in no time and bestowed as one of the greatest treasures to be found in ages."

Monty had bowed his head. "I am honored you would see it that way, sir."

Inwardly, his impatience returned. If only there would be a chance to come across anything linked to Yono...

Today he reclined in his favorite chair by the fire, surrounded by his monkey ninjas as they took a break from their training to listen to anything interesting he might share with them, and Bates joined them like the good old days - and that was when the great article on the front page had hit the globe, stunning many:

RON STOPPABLE LIVES UP TO HIS NAMESAKE

Monty gritted his teeth. "Well, I'll be damned." He read the story aloud, as much as he could even though there was more, detailing the pretender's heroic efforts.

Ron Stoppable, husband and partner of world-famous heroine Kim Possible, has passed away yesterday at age twenty-six. The former sidekick whom many of Possible's former enemies have constantly paid no mind to, and few care to remember in achievement, has given his life for the safety of the people of Middleton and possibly the entire world. The dynamic duo thwarted one of Professor Dementor's nefarious plots one last time involving the Downtown Middleton Center which would have taken the entire building and then the whole town...but it was no match for one Stoppable who lived up to his name. Strangely, without use of his hands or any powerful technological equipment, the married father of a precious three-year-old girl risked his life to stop the bomb from going off - and it was witnessed that he and his wife of three years, and lifelong partner-in-crime, shared one last moment together before he died in her arms. The services will take place in their hometown of Middleton in two more days' time. This is a tremendous loss, especially for the family.

The monkeys looked wide-eyed at him and then at each other in shock, surprised all the same at the bravery of their master's great rival. His hands shook and threatened to tear the paper in half; instead, he settled on crumbling it up and tossing it into the fire. So, the fool put his life on the line in order to stop Dementor's last plot. According to the papers just before he destroyed them, the genius himself had been locked up for the last time, but no final word on his ultimate fate, not that it mattered to Fiske in the slightest.

He envied Stoppable more than he did before, but one fact bothered him most: he'd left his wife and child without a male protector, but Kimberly? In the years Fiske knew her if not on the most cordial of terms, she was strong and independent. She could handle herself and the little girl who was all she had left of Ronald. A small part of him had hoped that maybe someday if she didn't find another man, given it was obvious she would never be able to move on from the father of her child...

Monty shook his head clear of those thoughts. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of it before, but he couldn't afford any distractions now - but internally as well as with the monkey ninjas, Chippy being the exception, he rejoiced that his enemy hadn't become the Ultimate Monkey Master.

"What now, milord?" Bates dared to question. "Celebrating with tea and brandy combined?" The insult was clear in his eyes that it set the master himself aflame inside, but he responded coldly.

"I see no harm in it, Bates, but I won't go too far and dance around the castle. Stoppable bested me one last time along with that little infant sister of his," Monty sneered, "but one last time he really did show he was more than a buffoon."

The other man sighed and sank in his seat. "Milord, you're judging too harshly. His family lost him - especially the wife and child. Had you wed a long time ago, you would have felt it if you lost them, and they would have experienced the same tremendous loss as...Mrs. Stoppable and her daughter have now." It must have been difficult to call her a missus as she was once a miss to them both. Monty could not help but laugh.

"Yes, they have," was all he could say as he had no experience in family mourning - or any form of losing one you loved. The only sense of grief had been that one time now left in the past.

He was becoming too distracted and needed another that didn't involve the knowledge that Kim Possible - Kim Stoppable - was now a single mother raising her daughter on her own, and had placed her world-saving career on the mantle to focus on her child. But that was not all: she was an archaeologist now, like Lord Fiske, which amazed him. Why would she have picked his career choice? It didn't matter either; it was not like he could casually phone her for old times' sake and catch up. They had been far from friends, far from anything closely related - and she would most likely spit at him if he set foot in her home.

Four months passed from there, and it was by then that one day he finally came across it during a weekend. Ever since the museum took him back, he was back to his old habits of never stopping for anything other than the tea Bates served him - the nightmares continued to come, but he always dealt with them involving said beverage as well as meditation, and his medication - and it had been discovered after having been buried so deep that it had escaped his precisive eyes and evaded his crafted hands.

Bates had told him he would find a way to reclaim his soul - and he had. He'd taken time and effort to find it, even if it had been more trickier than he would have liked - but the wait had been worth it. His heartbeat reached his ears as he looked upon his discovery of the two missing keys linked to the Yono - and with no mention of trading his soul for a price.

"Xian the Divine," he breathed, moaning and closing his eyes, "and her famed blade which she used to drive the Yono down to earth." What made it better: she was a distant cousin of the Han. He'd found it; he'd found what he was looking for, and now he knew that he could not wait any longer to find the exact location of the Blade of Xian.