"Venturestein must die!"

Dean Venture declared this from the old couch he was sitting on in the large hanger where the X-1 was kept.

Triana Orpheus, sitting in the middle of the couch nodded her agreement. "Every second he - it - is alive I hear the screams of a dozen souls ripped apart and sewn together into Venturestein. I don't know how my dad can put up with it. It's driving me crazy! Venturestein must die!"

After a pause Dean and Triana turned to look at Hank Venture sitting at the other end of the couch. "What?" he asked. "I happen to like the V-man. he's cool. Our very own Frankenstein! How many other kids can say that?"

Triana rolled her eyes up to the heavens, not that she expected any answers from that direction. She was magic enough to know that the only answers humans got from the magical dimensions was from down below. "It doesn't bother you that your father created a freak, an abomination of nature. A desecration of things proper in this world?"

"And your father resurrects the dead, isn't that an 'abomination,' too?"

"That's different," Triana insisted, though she wasn't sure on what grounds.

"I miss Gary, though," Hank said.

"What do you mean," Triana asked him, "He only left an hour ago."

"I can't believe he and Pop left for an exciting adventure in New York City and left us behind," Dean said.

"Yeah," Hank agreed, "because someone had to babysit Gary's new friend and that someone had to be us."

The three of them looked through the open doors of the X-1's hanger. Outside, in the sun, Venturestein (Gary called him 'Texas' for some reason) and Spider-Helper were playing catch. Helper would lob the ball to Venturestein in a soft pitch from one of his manipulator/legs, and the patchwork man would race to clasp his hands around the ball, miss, and go running after it before throwing it back in the general direction of Helper. Helper had been a vaguely humanoid robot until an explosion a couple years back had destroyed his body. He had been wedged into Brock Samson's chest for a while before being removed by an underground surgeon. When Brock mailed Header's head back, the boy's father, Thaddeus Venture had mounted the robot's head to the body of a giant spider-like walking thingie instead of rebuilding Helper's body.

"Even when he's here, that's all he does any more," Hank complained, "plays catch with Venturestein, or run flash cards with him, or watch TV together. Gary doesn't have any time for us."

"He's your bodyguard, not your babysitter," Triana reminded him.

"Still..." Hank insisted. The three sat in the cool of the hanger for a bit, watching Helper and Venturestein play.

"I wanted Gary to drive me to town today so I could meet Gloria at the mall,"Dean began, "You know what he did?" Dean slumped in the couch with sad, puppy-dog eyes. Triana waited, knowing that he'd answer with or without her prompting. "He just tossed the keys to the X-13 at me."

"So?" Triana asked. "It's a car and you have a driver's license. What's the problem."

"It's the X-13! It's atomic powered. What if I have an accident?"

"For one thing that car was built in the 60s to 60s car standards. There's more steel in that car than two Lincoln Continentals today. And considering all that Gary put it through when we were running from the Monarch's men last month, and nothing went wrong, I don't think there's any way you crashing can hurt it."

"But..."

Triana's eyes opened as an idea came to her. "Look, you want me to drive you, because I will. I've nothing better to do today."

"Would you?" Dean said.

"She just wants to sneak into town to get some smokes without her dad finding out," Hank said, looking at Triana from the corner of his eye. "Our Triana has quite the fag jones."

"Fag?" She repeated in an unappreciative voice.

"Yeah. Fags, cigarettes, coffin-nails, cough-sticks. Us detective types have got to know all the lingo. Fags is British for cigarettes."

"R-i-ght," Triana answered. "You keep using 'lingo' like that around here and you'll be the "late" Hank Venture, Boy Detective." She turned back to Dean. "Well, what about it, want me to drive?"

Dean was blushing, which seemed like an odd response until you considered the situation. He still thought of Triana as his girlfriend, despite the number of times the witch-in-training had told him she already had a boyfriend. Dean was also very much interested in this girl, Gloria. They had met at the mall where she had been reading a Giant Boy Detective adventure. Giant Boy Detective was Dean's favorite book series. While Triana was the first girl he had noticed as a girl, Gloria was the first girl where he had something in common. Dean was convinced that if Triana found how how much he liked Gloria she might not like him anymore, so he wanted to keep the two girls separate. But as long as he was afraid to drive the X-13, he would have to let Triana drive and risk her meeting Gloria.

From Triana's point of view, Gloria was the best thing that could happen to her because it meant that Dean wouldn't spend as much time moondogging her. And in any case Triana knew all about her from talking with Gary. From what the burly bodyguard had said, Dean had begun a furious conversation with the girl over the internet and from time to time arranged to see her at the mall. Gary had started a dossier on the girl as soon as he realized that Dean was serious about her. He probably knew more about Gloria than Dean did. He thought she was alright and a good influence on Dean, who, lord knows, needed all the help he could get just to grow up to be normal.

"Are you really going just to buy cigarettes?" Dean asked, as if that were the only question involved.

"What's the big deal about my smoking. It's a free country," Triana defended herself.

"Gary doesn't like her smoking," Hank said slyly.

"What does that have to do with anything?'

"I think she likes Gary."

"I do not like -" she started, stopped. "I like Gary, ok, but only as a brother. What is it with you. I've got a boyfriend, Raven, remember. And so does Gary. I mean, girlfriend. he has a girlfriend, alright. There's nothing between us."

"Kim," Hank said languidly. "She's my Nemesis. She is so hot. How many people get to have a hot nemesis like that, uh?"

"You moron, she's trying to kill you!" Dean reminded him.

"But my kung fu skills were too great for her!" Hank insisted.

"Oh, please. You were probably in your Panic Room wetting your pants!" Triana laughed.

"That was me," Dean said, sadly.

Triana stood up and looked down at Dean. "You want to go to town, or what?"

Dean looked at his brother, as he often did before making up his mind. He hopped up and said "Let's go." He tossed the set of keys to the girl.

Hank looked around the open hanger then out to where Helper and Texas were still playing. "Hey, wait for me," he called and scrambled after his brother.

They were cruising through the gate at the Venture Enterprises when Triana said, "you probably ought to tell somebody where we're going."

"Who?" Hank asked. "The only people left on the grounds are Helper, your father and ... Venturestein."

"Tell Helper then," Triana suggested.

Hank made the call on his two-way wrist communicator. Helper was an amazingly intelligent but he only communicated in beeps, from a head that looked like a steam whistle. The boys could understand him just like he was speaking English. When he was done slumped down in the seat as he so often did since watching all those 40s detective films and pushed his brown fedora down over his eyes. He wore the hat because it made him look more like a gumshoe, he'd told her. Triana wondered where the phrase "gumshoe" came from, but wasn't interested enough to look it up on wikipedia.

The six ton, six passenger car with the nuclear reactor in the trunk accelerated smoothly on the road. It was a striking car with a P-38 style front-end, big fins at the back and a sweeping large windshield. The hardtop folded back to make it a convertible but Triana preferred driving with just the windows down. Hank and Dean had both insisted on sitting in the front seat with her. It was certainly wide enough for all three, but she still felt a little crowded.

"So how would you do it, doll-face?" Hank drawled from his position half-way down the seat, "Knife in the back? Garrote? I favor a sniper rifle at 300 yards. Gives the target a sporting chance."

"What are you talking about, and don't call me 'doll-face'," Triana interrupted.

"So-r-ry! I was just trying to start in character."

"Not around me, OK! I hate it when people call me doll-face, or pumpkin or..."

"Doesn't your father call you 'pumpkin'," Dean asked thoughtlessly

"O-o-oh," Hank said with surprise. "Father issues..."

"It's not..." Triana protested then shut her mouth and just drove. With the Venture Brothers sometimes it was best not to argue.

"So how would you do it?" Hank persisted.

"Do what?"

"Kill Venturestein."

"I can't just kill somebody. That's gross."

"You said he had to die. So how would you do it?"

"I want it out of my life. The crying of the souls trapped in that abomination gives me a headache all day long. I can't stand the sight of the creature, but I can't kill it."

"I'd put poison in its food," Dean said. "Lots and lots f tranquilizers so he goes to sleep and never wakes up."

"You never killed anything in your life, Princess," Hank drawled. "Not even a mosquito?"

"Those don't count. I'm not a Buddhist. I don't believe in reincarnation and stuff. But... It's like those 4-Hers in high school who spend all summer raising a steer, grooming it, playing with it, and then after the county fair they take it to some slaughterhouse and bring home a trunk full of steaks. God, that is so sick!"

"So you don't really want Venturestein to die?" Hank teased.

"I want him gone, but I'm not going to push him out. Besides he's Gary's friend. We have to respect Gary's wishes, I guess."

"Gary this, and Gary that, huh?" Hank went on. "Triana and Gary sitting in a tree, K-I-S-" A jet of fire blazed across the width of the car, missing Hanks's nose by millimeters. Dean, who was sitting in the middle, slumped down as far as he could without sliding into the footwell.

"It's not like that!" Triana said harshly. Hank was tempted to say that it was exactly like that but he didn't want to tempt Triana accuracy with magic fire a second time.

"You just spend a lot of time with Gary, is all," he said.

"He's like the only person around here my age that I can talk to."

"He's like twice our age," Dean piped up.

"No he's not," Triana protested. "Maybe ten years, but you know what I mean."

"We're your age," Dean said, sounding a little hurt.

Triana was saved from answering when a car pulled out of a side road in front of her. She tramped on the brakes but the heavy car barged ahead. She leaned her head out the window and shouted abuse at the other driver before flipping him off. The X-13 had cruised up to his bumper because braking finally started slowing it down. The other driver flipped her back and stepped on the gas. Triana gritted her teeth, tempted to step on the accelerator. She know that the nuclear reactor could output enough power to catch up with the other driver in a mile and blow pass him in a satisfying breeze. Then she noticed both boys staring at her. She eased her foot back off the accelerator.

"Gary is just a friend," she sulked. "He's like the older brother I never had."

"The older killer brother," Hank said. A look from Triana quieted any further comments he was going to make.

They were silent for a moment. Finally Dean wondered, "Do you think Gary will ever get around to finding Triana's walking tree?"

"And take time away from his new bestest buddy, I doubt it?" Hank said.

"It's not really 'my' tree," Triana wanted to clarify. "I may have seen it first but I have nothing to do with it."

"Then where did it come from," Dean wondered.

"I think it's one of Pops experiments gone horrible awry. An insane amalgam of plant and vegetable matter that escaped through a window one night and Pop doesn't want to admit that it exists."

"Aside from the melodrama," Triana said, "I kind of agree. Your father must have had something to do with it. Seems harmless enough, though."

"It's just biding its time," Hank suggested ominously. "Like a Venus Fly Trap, waiting for the victim to get fully inside its trap before springing it."

"Venturestein called it a friend." Dean protested.

"Venturestein calls everybody a friend. he doesn't have a lot of discrimination," Triana reminded him.

"Well, I don't think it's one of Pop's. He would have said something if it were. Maybe it's from Outer Space. Maybe its a shipwrecked visitor from Betelgeuse."

"Betelgeuse," Hank scoffed. "Now maybe it's one of those Secret Martians we contacted that one time. Remember?"

"Pop yelled at us for hours, then General Manhower yelled at us and the Secret president. How were we supposed to know that the Secret Martians were so easily offended?"

"Martians?" Triana asked.

"Oh, yeah. They've got some kind of underground civilization of Mars. That why no one has seen them before now. But they're real snooty and won't travel anywhere or talk to anyone. And they hate it when our radio waves interfere with their communing with nature or something. Anyway we just said 'Hello' into this radio we found and nearly caused World War III.

"We were like grounded for a month," Hank said, sounding mostly boastful about it.

"You think this tree is a Martian?" Triana asked.

Hank shrugged his shoulders. "No one has ever seen one. Could be."

"A Martian hiding out on the Venture Compound?" Triana sounded skeptical.

"You got to admit no one would be surprised to find one here."

They road in silence the last mile to the mall. Triana was thinking that no matter how weird things got in her magic classes, it would still be more normal than life with the Ventures. She looked at Dean thinking, we have to talk, but not sure how to separate Dean from his brother so they could have a private conversation. Another time.

The mall was like every other mall, a collection of large blank buildings surrounded by an ocean of largely unused parking lots. Triana found a double-parking spot near the mall entrance and slide sideways into the middle of the two slots. The X-13 was nearly normal car size but that meant a couple feet longer and a couple feet wider than the modern norm. There just wasn't room in a normal parking space for the car and hope to open the doors. "We'll met at the fountain in the central court at 4 o'clock she told them as she armed the defense systems on the experimental vehicle. Dean looked at his watch, exclaimed "I'm late" and started running towards the entrance. Triana watched him run for a moment that leisurely strolled after him, Hank by her side.

"You hear about Dean's latest idea?" he asked.

Triana shook her head.

"That Gloria dame has convinced him they ought to put on a convention for Giant Boy Detective fans."

"Dean, do you want to ever date girls? Then stop calling them 'dames'."

"You chicks have to stick together, don't you." A moment later he was sprawled on the ground.

"Hey! I thought you weren't allowed to use magic outside of school!" Hank protested as he picked himself up.

"That's Harry Potter. Real magic users can use magic anytime they want. But that wasn't magic, that was me, sticking my foot in front of yours." As Hank got red in the face, she asked, "So what this about a convention?"

Hank was happy to fill her in on Dean's plans - Gloria's plans apparently - and why none of it would work. Triana had no idea how much work was involved in putting on a convention, though she recalled a couple Trekkie conventions that Kim had dragged her to. The people in the 'staff' T-shirts all seemed to frantic and harassed. It looked like a lot of work for little personal enjoyment.

She paused with her hand on a door. "Why do you think Dean can't do this? He's a Venture. I thought you Venture boys could do anything? By the way, Hank, you can't keep follow me here," she said.

"I'm not following you."

"Well, you can't come in." She pointed to the sign on the door: "women's rest room."

"Oh. I'll just wait..."

"Why don't you see if your friend Dermott is working today. Why don't you hang out with him?"

"Hey, Dermott! Yeah" Hank said, and started to rush off.

Triana watched to make sure he had left before pushing through the door and sighed with relief as it closed behind her. She went into one of the stalls, locked the door before sitting down. She planned to wait it out in here for fifteen minutes to make sure Hank had gone away.

Fifteen minutes later, Triana left her stall, washed her hands and peeped out the restroom door just to be safe. Hank was gone. She pushed through the door and headed towards the exit. The mall, like most places these days was smoke-free. You couldn't even buy cigarette anywhere inside. But there was a drugstore across the parking lot where she could get a couple cartons, and there were some benches set well away from the doors for smokers. It was shady and pleasant. Who knew, she meet even met up with a cute boy.