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Venture Brothers Het and Gen Fanfic

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Venture Brothers Het and Gen Fanfic

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 ...and I'd thought I'd throw some of my VB fanfics in the ring.  Here's one I started last year, based on season 2 info.  Let me know what you think...

The Monarch wobbled through the hallway towards his throne room, or as he would put it, the central synapse of his mighty cocoon, holding a bottle.
Things were not pleasant, he thought as he took a heavy swig from the bottle. Oh, he was still the undisputed master of his organization, and he still had the love of his life, and he still had his legion of ever loyal, if not terribly bright henchmen. He did, however, lack the one thing any self respecting arch villain required.
He lacked an enemy.
Normally, this would be trivial, as he was the sworn enemy of Dr. Venture.
However, in order to win the undying love and respect of Sheila, he swore not to fight him again.
Scratch that. He PINKY swore.
Normally, he would just register with the guild for another arch enemy to fight. Indeed, it had been after the incident with that Dickweed Phantom Limb, that he had tried to register for another arch enemy. However, things were slowing down in the field of supervillany. 
Sheila recommended that he switch careers altogether. While that sounded good on paper, there were a few difficulties…
 
THE COCOON, TWO MONTHS EARLIER, THE BRONSTEIN’S SON’S BAR MITZVAH RECEPTION
 
From the entranceway, the Monarch looked gingerly at his former command center. His proud butterfly themed sanctum was modified to resemble a gaudy banquet hall and dance floor for the Bronstein family.   His once impressive throne was the seat of honor for the Bar Mitzvah boy.  
It started when Sheila suggested he try catering as a new profession. He was initially opposed. He was a SUPERVILLAIN for badness sake! Still, she convinced him to at least give it a try. By good fortune, most of his henchmen were former waiters, disenchanted student chefs, or fast food fry cooks. To top it off, number 21 and 24 knew quite a few songs, and would make great entertainment.
Everything went ok at first. He, along with Dr. Girlfriend acted as Maitre ds while the henchmen were dressed in busboy uniforms. Somehow, 21 and 24 got hold of some dj equipment, and were livening up the banquet with their rendition of Hava Nageela.
Of the guests themselves, the mother, seemed to be the most annoying, acting like a watered down Leona Helmsley. Her major foibles ranged from making sure everything was perfect, demanding that they go with a less butterfly oriented theme, to chastising the henchmen for minor screw ups, like forgetting to make sure certain relatives stayed away from the mini bar. All for the sake of outdoing her peers for ‘event of the season’.
The father looked like he preferred to be home watching the game. And the Bar Mitzvah boy himself… well, although he had the rare privilege of sitting in HIS throne of power as the guest of honor, he looked like he preferred that the whole reception would take place at McDonalds.
 
It was when the boy discovered the ‘hidden’ buttons on the armrest his throne, that things went from not so bad, to worse.
Out of the corner of his eye, the Monarch saw the boy start to press a particularly nasty red button.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he screamed as he dashed towards the throne. In the process, he knocked over 3 hench-waiters, two elderly relatives, and a table.
All in vain.
He pressed the button.
Immediately, a cleverly hidden trap door activated under the boy’s mother, causing her to fall into the gauntlet of terror. Simultaneously, a high definition display lowered itself from the ceiling, placed for the convenience of watching his victims suffer, revealing the mother, who landed on a soft mattress below.
Unfortunately, that would be her only sense of relief for what was to come.
The Monarch cringed with dread as the first gauntlet activated.  The butterfly blades of terror!
She barely managed to escape to the next room, when the second gauntlet activated.
She entered a seemingly dark area. Almost immediately, projections of the Monarch displayed, each laughing sinisterly. As she started to scream madly, the second gauntlet activated. The floor of flames!
Not the floor of flames! He thought.
“Someone! Disable the gauntlet of terror!”
“Yes sir!” said a henchman as he pressed a switch.
“NOT THAT ONE!”
Too late.
Immediately, the control stations rose from the floor, knocking over tables, the mini bar, and everything that was in the way. The once gaudy banquet hall now resembled a disaster area.
At that moment, the Monarch noticed that the mother made it to the doors of doom.
“CHOOSE THE FIRST ONE!” he screamed, in vain.
She chose the third one.
And set loose the dreaded robotic Mel Gibsons!
As he covered his face with his hands to avoid the apparent carnage, Sheila calmly turned the switch that would deactivate the gauntlet.
 
Needless to say, the entire affair was a disaster.
Minutes later, the guests who were injured, or suffered strokes, were taken out by paramedics. Mrs. Bronstein herself was strapped to a gurney, and heavily sedated. Nevertheless, she would have a lasting fear of anything that resembled butterflies, or Mel Gibson.
The father, while visually supportive of his wife, was secretly relieved that he would be able to catch the end of the game.
The Bar Mitzvah boy ironically, seemed to be the most pleased. Not only did he have a good time, but they were moving the reception to McDonalds!
 
THE PRESENT
 
The Monarch gingerly reminisced on that fiasco while he took another swig of leftover Manishewitz. Of course, his next endeavor was also a complete fiasco. It all started when a friend of his convinced him to work for a network marketing company. Unfortunately, the company in question was Scamway. As a result of their ‘corporate agreement’ i.e. pyramid scheme, the cocoon was stuck with ten thousand cartons of their crap. Since there was no legal recourse, he took matters as only a supervillain could.
 
SCAMWAY HEADQUARTERS, SOMWHERE IN MICHIGAN
 
The early morning light shined over the corporate compound, which lay peacefully on the Michigan landscape. One could almost hear ‘Au claire de la lune’ as he observed this tranquil scene.
Suddenly, over the horizon, a sinister cocoon shaped craft flew towards the compound. Seconds later it hovered over the buildings.
 
Inside the cocoon, the Monarch had already set the bridge to battle mode. He looked grimly at his target, and issued the command.
“Commence primary ignition.”
 
Immediately, a ray blast was fired from the cocoon, obliterating the buildings below. After the dust cleared, a hatch opened, dropping cartons upon cartons of unsellable Scamway products. A few moments later, the cocoon flew away from the once tranquil scene.
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