Meteor Majeure Space Station
Currently orbiting Ghost Planet
A webbed foot covered by green scales stepped off of a teleportation platform and its owner, an amphibious looking man with a large spiny fin on his head and gills on his neck, who was wearing red and white alien lederhosen, walked forward into a round room and approached a large semi-circular table, around which sat The Council of Thirteen.
To spite their name, there was only seven of them: Red Death, a crimson skeleton in a black cloak, Dragoon, a raspy voiced old bald man, Radical Left, a bifurcated man whose right half, Right Wing, was technically not on the council due to his mundane and peaceful nature, Dr. Z, an old school Asian villain from the silver age, Red Mantle, a contemporary of Dr. Z and Dragoon with elemental powers who wore a red ceremonial robe, Phantom Limb, a dashing ladies man from a long line of ne'er-do-wells who had invisible arms and legs and wore a purple onesie, and finally the de facto head of the council, Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, who looked officious as ever in her black, pseudo-Nazi uniform. They all had a light red glow around them.
"I am here answering your summons, your majesties," said the fish guy alien when he reached the center of the semi-circle.
"Knock off the 'your majesties' stuff," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch said in her deep, smoky voice, then she rifled through some paperwork in front of her as if she was looking for something. "Remulak, is it?" she asked as she looked. "Stimutacs?"
"Klemulak!" said the alien. "It's written clear as day on the grievance I filed."
"Yes... well… I can't find it," the councilwoman said, finally, throwing down the wad of papers she was holding. "Can you just tell us in your own words, what exactly happened?"
"He blindsided me!" Klemulak shouted. His voice was a low croak that sounded gurgly when he yelled.
"Take it easy," the councilwoman said, "Just take a deep breath and continue."
Klemulak gurgled again, his gills twitched, and then he went into his very prepared speech.
"My disinto-gun jammed, so he threw his keys at me and then did, like, a barrel roll or something. I think he had a rifle hidden in the bushes, so I chucked my jammed gun at him and ran for my car. He yelled something racist and I could see him in the darkness running at me. Luckily I got in my car and sped away before he could even reach the curb." he said.
"And this is the elderly space cowboy, correct?" Phantom Limb chimed in, sardonically.
"Old and spry, like a well oiled spring," said Klemulak.
"This was an unsanctioned arching," said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, "And yet you come to us asking for assistance. You know you can be punished for what you just admitted to, right? Where did you even get a disinto-gun, we don't have those in pistol form do we?" she asked, looking around at her fellow council members.
"I've heard there are special exceptions when it comes to revenge," said Klemulak.
"Oh, there are," said Phantom Limb. "And I should know. When it comes to REVENGE, I'm quite the expert."
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch cut him off before he could go into it.
"First of all, unsanctioned revenge quests can only be taken in immediate response to an intentional act of aggression, not for something that happened in, like, the 70's, and second of all this… Joe Welcome is not your assigned protagonist, in fact, if I'm reading this form right, you've never even had one of those in all the years you've been a member of this guild."
"But I always pay my dues," the fishman pointed out.
"Yeah, that's another thing, you've been paying in this alien money the whole time," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch said, holding up what looked like puzzle pieces and then letting them fall in a pile on the desk in front of her.
"Those are zoiniags," said Klemulak. "They're worth two times your American dollar, you just have to find a place that will make the exchange, surely now that you're operating from space-"
"Look," interrupted the councilwoman, "Due to the new, more user-friendly approach me and my fellow council members are trying to bring to this guild, we are willing to overlook these recent transgressions as long as you get to the point of why you beseeched us."
"Ooh, good word," said Red Mantle.
"Yes," added Dragoon, whose head was surgically attached to Red Mantle's body, "That's the kind of cracker jack language we used to use in the old days."
"Well, I… I came to you to ask permission to invoke Para-Sha," said Klemulak, looking mildly nervous.
"What the hell is that?" demanded Red Death.
"Sounds like an Indian dish," said Radical Left.
"Oh, I say we all meet up for some curry after this," said Dr. Z, suddenly taking an interest in the conversation.
"What is Para-Sha," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch asked Klemulak, trying to get the proceedings back on track. She knew her fellow council members were prone to off topic tangents.
"It is an ancient ritual among my people," said Klemulak. "When someone has taken the life of a family member, the eldest son is allowed to challenge the one who slew them to one on one combat. If I can't get satisfaction on that puny marble you call Earth, then I shall do it on a neutral planet of my choosing, in accordance with the rules of Para-Sha."
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch sighed heavily and looked at Phantom Limb for support.
"The council will now briefly confer," Phantom Limb announced and the other members nodded, solemnly. Then there was a noise like an old TV being switched off and all seven council members blinked from existence, which greatly confused Klemulak. He looked around for a few minutes, awkwardly, before the council suddenly reappeared like a light being turned on.
"Wait, you guys are holograms?" Klemulak asked, dumbfounded and a bit angry. "Then why did I have to come all the way out here to space in person?"
"You didn't notice we were glowing red?" asked Red Mantle.
"I thought that was your evil auras or something," said Klemulak with a shrug.
"Can you see auras?" asked Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.
"Not normally, but I thought maybe the transporter gave me a new ability. That can sometimes happen, ya know. Molecules being rearranged…." Klemulak answered.
Instead of indulging him, Dr. Mrs. The Monarch went straight into the council's verdict.
"We, The Council of Thirteen, have unfortunately decided to deny your request-"
"Did I mention that Para-Sha is a religious rite and by denying me it you would be breaking rule forty-two of the guild charter?" Klemulak broke in.
"Damn," Phantom Limb said, simply.
"I've been in this guild a long time too," said Klemulak, smugly.
"Ok, well, in light of this new information, the council will once again need to confer. We can play a little music for you while you wait, if you'd like," said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.
"Oh, do you have Where's The Fire by Tim Feehan?" asked Klemulak.
"No, but do you like Joan Jett?" asked the councilwoman.
"I like her song, Science Fiction Double Feature," said Klemulak.
"Her song? That's a cover from Rocky Horror," Dr. Mrs. The Monarch said, haughtily.
"Are you sure?" countered Klemulak.
"Uh, yeah, me and my husband go to that dressed up as Eddie and Dr. Frank-N-Furter all the time."
"Who is who?" Phantom Limb asked, raising a masked eyebrow.
"The Monarch is Frank-N-Furter," said the councilwoman.
"Why am I not surprised?" Phantom Limb shot back.
"You a Doctor Demento fan?" Dr. Mrs. The Monarch asked, turning back to the alien fishman and the matter at hand.
"Yeah," he said, needlessly ashamed.
"Fine, here's some Weird Al," she said and Fat began to play over the space station's overhead speakers as the council vanished for another few minutes.
Finally, they returned and Klemulak stopped bobbing his head to the music as they rematerialized.
"Fine, we will do this ritual thing you speak of," Dr. Z announced, "But once the deed is done there will be new subsections and clauses added to the protection of religious freedoms act, post haste."
Klemulak bowed, unnecessarily, while Red Death's eyes glowed like warm alien blood.
"I myself am looking forward to this, I haven't attended a good old fashioned arena style battle to the death in ages."
He began to laugh maniacally.
"Me neither!" yelled Radical Left, banging his deformed left fist on the table in front of him and beginning to laugh as well. All the villains then began to laugh, working themselves up into a frenzy that made Klemulak start clapping his large webbed hands together like a seal.
The whole honeycomb-like hideout rang with evil laughter as it hung in the void of outer space. Meanwhile, back on Earth, on a small pedestal in Ventech Tower, NYC, under protective glass, sat a small replica of that very same space station.
"And to this day, no one knows the exact whereabouts of Meteor Majeure," said ol' Joe Welcome, mysteriously, as he gestured to the miniature.
The elderly space cowboy had recently supplanted Sergeant Hatred as tour guide of Ventech Tower, partly because Hatred was overweight, had bad knees, a bad heart and didn't need to be doing anything more strenuous than watching monitors all day, but mostly because when it came to the remnants and relics from the original Team Venture's past escapades that adorned the small museum on the second floor, Joe knew the stories about them better than anyone else, because he was, ya know, there for a lot of them.
"Thus concludes our tour," Joe said with a tip of his straw cowboy hat. Then he asked, "Any questions?"
A young girl with pink hair asked, "Sooo, were you like Cowboy Beebop or something?"
"Yes," nodded Joe, with a weary sigh, "I was just like Cowboy Bebop."
"Don't forget to visit the gift shop downstairs on your way out!" Sergeant Hatred bellowed, coming up behind the crowd who immediately began to disperse, slowly, giving mildly curious glances to the items on display.
"Ya gotta remember to push the merchandise," Hatred said to Joe once the tour group was out of earshot.
"I'm sorry," Joe drawled. He took a bandana out of the pocket of his shiny speedsuit that had been made to resemble his old Gargantua-1 space suit. Unlike that one, this one was made of lamé. He dabbed at the sweat on his brow and gave the paunchy security guard with a green V tattooed on his face a crooked smile.
"I'll get better, I promise," he said. "There's just so much to remember and it was all so long ago. I am pushing seventy, ya know."
Hatred began to hem and haw his usual preamble before laying into a long speech about something he didn't quite know how to bring up, then finally he just blurted it out.
"Also, ya gotta stop it with all that alien stuff, you're… you're scarin' the kids," he said.
"What? Stuff?" Joe said, defensively. "I've fought many aliens on multiple occasions. Ask Rusty, he'll tell ya?"
Just at that moment, the man in question, Dr. Rusty Venture along with his teen sons, Hank and Dean, and the family bodyguard, Brock, who was in his O.S.I. fatigues, stepped off a nearby elevator just in time to hear the end of that conversation.
"And how," Hank said, enthusiastically, as if there was any other way he could say something.
"We've all met aliens. Me and Deano even flew in a plane with one, then another one disguised as our grandpa shot that one in the head," he continued, gesturing to his brother.
"It's all true, Hatred," added Brock. "Deal with it. We ain't alone."
"It's Vatred, I told ya," said Hatred, annoyed and flummoxed. "And I won't believe nothin' till I see it with my own eyes. Show me the money!"
"Wow, way to reference something from, like, a hundred years ago," Brock shot back.
"Besides," said Dr. Venture, "weren't some of your little playmates from The Guild spacemen?"
"How should I know," said Hatred. "There's an unspoken, 'don't ask, don't tell' policy there when it comes to who or what people are."
"I'm sure you fit right in," said Rusty. "Now get back to the security desk and let the nice old man do his job. I don't pay you two to hangout with each other."
Hatred grunted and shuffled away, then Dr. Venture turned his attention to Joe.
"Are you doing okay, do you want a glass of water or something? How about a five minute sit before the next group?" he asked, condescendingly.
"Honestly, Rusty, I feel better than I have in a long time. An' I just wanna thank ya again for-" the old man began in earnest, but was cut off.
"Yeah, yeah, think nothing of it," Rusty said with a wave of his hand. "Anything to help out one of Dad's friends."
"Plus, he's an American hero," Brock said, giving Rusty a meaningful look that said he had had something to do with the man's recent generosity when it came to giving the old veteran pilot a new job more befitting a man of his experience.
"Now, me and my entourage need to get going," continued Rusty, and he started walking forward to get his little group to move, but Joe stopped him.
"What's today's ruckus?" he asked, mostly to the boys.
"I'll tell you what today's ruckus is," Rusty answered instead.
"We have to go to Chinatown, because Short Round here decided to buy his super secret girlfriend that he didn't tell his father about this Zen Tuo mask as a gift," he said, pointing his thumb at Hank with one hand, while waving a small, golden mask around with the other.
"Turns out the thing is cursed," he concluded.
"But the old Chinese man sold it to me anyway," said Hank. "For one hundred and ninety-five dollars."
"And that is why I'm now hiding my checkbook," said Dr. Venture.
"That reminds me, Pop," Dean said, timidly.
"Not now, Dean!" Snapped his father.
Dean stifled himself and became quiet.
Just then, Brock's communicator watch beeped and he held it up to his face.
"Samson here," he said, tersely.
There was some chatter from the watch that the others couldn't hear and then Brock said, "Gotcha," and turned to the family in his care. "Hunter needs me, post haste, you'll have to go to Chinatown by yourselves," he said.
"Post haste? What is this, Jumanji?" Dr. Venture said, flippantly. Then added, "Come on, you have to go, I can't be walking those streets alone, last time I did that I got kidnapped by the jade scorpion gang and held for ransom. They had me tied up in the back room of an opium den. I was high out of my mind."
"That was, like, thirty years ago. You were a kid," said Brock.
"I hear the place hasn't changed," said Rusty. "What if we get into big trouble in little china?"
"I'll be your Jack Burton," Joe said, stepping forward, heroically. He put his hands on his hips like he was ready to take off.
Rusty looked at him in derision.
"So, what, you're gonna be racist and talk about your truck constantly?" he said.
"I think it's a great idea," said Brock. "He saved you once, now maybe he can do it again, right?" he gestured to Joe with complete confidence.
"Fine, whatever," said Rusty, but let's go now before all the dragon parades start.
"Those don't happen everyday," Joe, a man who had lived in New York for many years, said.
"They do on days that I go," said Rusty, a man who had lived there a couple of months.
He then turned and walked off, calling to his boys to follow him. Joe made to go too, but Brock stopped him by saying, "Hey, before you leave, I got something for ya."
Joe pushed up the brim of his hat with his finger, curiously. Brock pulled something from the back of his utility belt and held it out to the old man.
It was Joe's old chromium plated laser pistol with fresh new atomic batteries installed in it, which made the sides glow with blue light.
"How?" was all Joe could say as he took it with trembling hands.
"Pulled some strings," was all Brock said, with a wink.
"Thank ya, son," Joe said and he patted the bodyguard on the shoulder with his calloused old hand.
"You better hurry up and catch up to Doc before he starts bitching about dawdling," said Brock.
Joe sighed.
"What happened to that boy?" he asked Brock with sad eyes.
"You tell me," said Brock.
On their way out the main entrance, ol' Joe and the Venture family passed by the security desk where Hatred called out to the boys.
"Pick me up a mogwai," he said, jokingly.
"Stop hitting on my sons," shot back Dr. Venture.
"I wasn-. I-" stammered Hatred.
"Just stay at that desk before I bump you down to janitor," said Rusty and he followed Joe and the boys outside into the hustle and bustle of midday sidewalk traffic.
Sometime later, after leaving the empty and abandoned shop that Hank thought he had visited with the mask still in hand, the Venture party continued to argue amongst themselves.
"It's not my fault you got scammed," Rusty was chastising Hank. "And since you bought it with my money, this worthless thing now belongs to me and I'm gonna mail it to china where it can cause as much chaos as it wants."
"It's just gonna come back," said Dean. "Like that droopy dog."
"Don't be so hard on the boys, Rust" offered Joe, who walked behind them at a gunslinger's pace, puffing away on his corncob pipe. "We've all done crazy things for love."
"Don't call me, 'Rust'," Rusty shot back, "And I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to smoke… anywhere anymore," he added.
After an awkward moment of walking in silence, Rusty decided that the old man was just trying to diffuse the situation and so he loosened up a bit and said, "But what crazy things have you done? I've heard stories about old team venture's love lives, I bet between you and Action Man-"
"Action Man," Joe said, to make it rhyme with filth. "That old bitch hog, pardon my language, can burn in hell."
"Well, he's not dead yet," Rusty said, surprised. "I didn't know you and him had bad blood. I figured all you original guys were thick as thieves."
"Oh, me and Rodney were at first," Joe said, and he looked up, wistfully at the sky. "But then there was an incident involving me, him and Major Tom. I… I don't want to talk about it."
Dr. Venture looked relieved.
"Now Colonel Gentleman and me on the other hand, we were always like two peas in a pod," Joe went on, a sly grin spreading across his lips.
Dr. Venture knew Horace Gentleman's track record with men.
"Oh lord, you and him didn't…" he began to ask.
"No, not me and him, but we did share a few things in common if you catch my drift. Including a pretty young filly named Amanda."
He gazed off longingly into the distance again and this time Rusty tried to look where he did, but the man was seeing all the way into the past.
"Long red hair, pretty eyes, big caboose and a tiny pecker. She had the best of both worlds going on if ya know what I mean."
"Like Hannah Montana," piped up Hank.
"No, boy," said Dr. Venture, quickly.
"More like Caitlin Jenner," said Dean.
Hank gave him a confused look.
"Probably should have married that one in hindsight," Joe said, wistfully.
"Okay, this is getting far too lewd for my son's ears," said Rusty.
"I'm in college," shot back Dean.
"Yes, Dean, you're a good boy," Rusty said to his son as if he were talking to a dog.
"And I've been around the block too, ya know," Hank said, indignantly. "In fact, we've both been to space, even, just like you two have, so don't treat us like babies."
"Ah, you remind me of a young Neil Armstrong." Joe said, appraising the boy. Hank smiled at being appreciated for once.
"I don't mean to talk bawdy," Joe then said to Rusty. " I guess what I'm just tryin' to say is ya can't be too picky in this life. You gotta grab love where ya find it… especially when your way out yonder."
He pointed off into the sliver of sky that could be seen above the skyscrapers that surrounded them.
"Why, one time I met this lovely alien lady with the head of a fly and the body of Ann-Margret. Woohooeee, let me tell ya."
"I can… kind of relate to that one," Rusty said, quietly.
After a few more minutes of silent walking, Joe decided to break the tension with some levity.
"Here's something fun for you kids, a li'l space fact," he said, as if he were back at Ventech still giving the tour. "The spirally part of the Milky Way where Earth is located is called Orion's Arm. I actually stayed in a space hotel once called The Orion Arms. It was a converted ship that had crash landed on an alien planet and was run by an old villainous doctor…"
Just then, a Guild stranger dressed in a black overcoat and fedora hat came up behind Joe and smoothly knocked him out with a chloroform soaked rag over his mouth. Joe fell into the villain's arms instantly.
Two more strangers, dressed like the first, came out from a nearby alley behind the Venture family.
"These kids weren't supposed to be here," one stranger said to the other.
"They're almost never with their father anymore," said the other.
"Well, they're here now," said the first one, who was obviously the leader. "Bag all three."
One of the strangers quickly chloroformed Doc, while the other, with a rag in each hand, knocked out the boys. The Ventures had no time to react and instead they all hit the sidewalk, unconscious. Hank slowly released the mask from his grip and it clattered off into a nearby gutter.