Well, it's been fun, guys. Hope you guys enjoy the last chapter of Milkweed's story!

The bright blue light faded away and the alleyway quickly turned into the VenTech stage, where a crowd full of people stood before them. The crowd cheered at their return. Both Gary and Kelly stared at them in awe. They were either really excited for their safe return or really excited to see the time machine actually work. Either way, the claps and cheers were for them, much to Dr. Venture's dismay. Hank's fan club seemed to have replaced their 'Hank Fan' T-shirts with handmade 'DD FAN' shirts, and they seemed to be the ones who were screaming the loudest.

Quickly, a bevy of news reporters climbed up onto the stage, pushing Gary away and crowding Kelly. In the distance, Kelly saw his parents and members of both the Guild and OSI push their way through the reporters.

"Milkweed!" called a reporter, holding a 'Channel 5 News' microphone up. Kelly recognized her as the Botox lady from earlier that day. "Milkweed, how does it feel to be the first kid to go back in time?"

Kelly opened his mouth, but another reporter stepped in, putting their microphone in Kelly's face. "Milkweed, what will the notorious Delinquent Duo do next?"

"The... Delinquent Duo?"

At that, Dagwood stepped in, flashing his most charming smile. "Currently we're between arches right now," he said confidently.

"Milkweed! Milkweed, over here," said one reporter in the back. "Are you afraid you might have created a time travel paradox?"

"Uh..." He turned to Dagwood, but he had gotten lost in the crowd. Kelly felt a strong hand grab him and lead him out of the storm of reporters.

"No comment," he heard Gary say.

Dr. Venture's guards quickly contained the reporters, leading them off the stage.

Kelly smelled his mother's perfume and her arms quickly wrapped around him. His father's arms quickly following hers.

"Oh, sweetie," said his mother, tears in her eyes. "We're so glad you're okay."

"Wait, you're not... you're not mad?" he asked.

"No, we're furious," said his father, though he was smiling, probably feeling both happy and relieved his son and number two had made it back in one piece.

"You're definitely grounded," said his mom, hugging him tighter.

When they got home, after both the Guild and the OSI issued a joint statement about the whole incident, Kelly's parents sent him straight to his room. They said they needed to talk privately, to figure out a proper punishment for him. "We'll talk later," said his mother.

So, Kelly sat waiting in agony. His first instinct was to grab his Talkie and talk with Dagwood, see how he was handling his own punishment—probably got sent to his room again, with nothing but a butler and a large bowl of ice cream to keep him company—but it was back in an alleyway with the Imitator, fifteen years ago.

After twenty-five long and painful minutes, Kelly, again, decided to take matters into his own hands. He would interrupt their conversation and say, "Mom and dad—no, Monarch and Dr. Mrs. The Monarch—I have proven myself worthy to be part of your team. I deserve a chance!"

Quietly, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to his door. He had to be quiet—there's no telling what they might do if they thought he was trying to sneak out again. Silently and carefully, he turned the knob and opened the door.

His parents' legs blocked him from going out into the hallway. He let out a nervous squeal and retreated back into his room, his parents following suit.

"And where do you think you're sneaking off to, mister," said his mother angrily. She crossed her arms and stared him down, like the villainous woman she is.

"I was just... I, uh..." With a deep breath, Milkweed lifted himself off the floor, and stood proudly before the pair. He stretched his neck out, to make it appear he was taller than Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.

"I was going down stairs," he said.

"Oh?" said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch curiously, raising an eyebrow. Her tone hid the fact that she was furious, but Milkweed saw the fire in her eyes.

"You were taking too long, so I thought I'd come to you. Quicken the process."

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch looked at Milkweed suspiciously. She opened her mouth to speak, but Milkweed quickly silenced her.

"Please," he said, "let me speak." She uncrossed her arms and turned to her husband, stunned. "Thirteen years ago—well, two hours ago for me—you met a boy in an ice cream shop and invited him to be one of your henchmen."

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch slapped her husband's arm. "You did what?"

"I... I didn't!" he said defensively, rubbing his hurt arm.

"Oh, yeah, you guys also might've gotten your memory swiped," Milkweed continued, "but that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say here is... that boy was me. I ran into you and Gary—your past selves, I mean—and you let me join your ranks. I was henchman thirteen—you said you'd let me be called Milkweed if Dr. Venture crapped his pants."

"That does sound like something I'd do," admitted the Monarch. His wife glared at him. "But I… I didn't!"

"Why are you telling us all this, swe—I mean… Milkweed, is it?" asked Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.

"Because I have proven myself worthy to arch so many times already," said Milkweed. "If it wasn't designing new weapons for Monarch's existing henchmen, it was helping 21 sew up costumes for the new ones. I have done so much for you guys, but regardless of what I end up doing, you're still just gonna see me as Kelly, you're boring, non-super villain son."

"But you are our boring, non-super villain son," said Monarch. "I mean, you're not boring!"

"Honey, we made you! We changed your diapers, we taught you how to walk... Sweetie, I breastfed you!" said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. "It's a little hard for us to see you as anything but our son!"

Kelly turned away, embarrassed. Did she always have to mention the breastfeeding thing? She thinks of it as some special bond they share together; maybe when he was a baby, yeah, but now he's twelve. He's older now and he doesn't need to be hearing that kind of stuff from his mother. Plus, when he thinks of boobs his mind automatically goes to sex and… he doesn't need to be thinking about his mother in that way. Or any girl, really.

"Time and time again, I have proven myself to you," continued Milkweed, "and time and time again, you just ignore it. You just ignore me!

"Yeah, okay... I'm your son," he continued, "but... I-I'm also a person! And you can't keep me from living my life! All I ask is for you to listen to me."

"Okay... okay," agreed Monarch. Both he and his wife sat down on the bed and gave their full attention to Milkweed. "Prove to us you're ready to be a villain."

"We're listening, sweetie—I mean, Milkweed."

And listened they did. Milkweed told them everything, about how he feels like an outcast, in both school and at home, and listed out all his ideas about improving Monarch's arches. He told them about his trip into the past. How past Gary had showed him around the cave. How he wore a henchman suit and was given the title 'henchman 13'. How he freaked out because, for a second, he thought Dr. Mrs. The Monarch had somehow recognized him. Finally, he told them about figuring out Monarch's shit ray and how, finally, his father treated him not as a son but as a fellow villain.

"Didn't you see me out there today? They loved me. They want me to be a villain. I want to be a villain!"

"Honey..." Dr. Mrs. The Monarch stopped, turning to her husband. It seemed she didn't know how to respond. She looked confused, a loss for words.

"Kelly," said Monarch, "this just isn't—"

"Before you go any further," interrupted Milkweed, "I ask you both, The Mighty Monarch and Dr. Mrs The Monarch, to speak to me not as your child but as your equal."

This took Monarch aback. He coughed, uncomfortable. "Oh, sorry, uh... Milkweed," Monarch said, stiffening again, "your mom and—I mean... we feel this isn't the right time for you. You've got school. You've got homework. You've got clarinet lessons. Where... how are you going to do all that and be a full-time villain?"

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch grabbed her husband's arm, nudging him to stop talking. "Milkweed," she said seriously, "this is a lot to process for your—for us. We need time to adjust to this."

"So... I'm part of the team now?"

His parents looked at one another, then turned back to him.

"No," said his mother.

"Absolutely not," said his father.

Kelly was ready to scream, to rip his own face off. He wanted to break every fragile thing in this terrible house. He kicked one of his chairs down and turned away from his parents, furious.

"See, the fact that you're still throwing tantrums proves to us that you're still not ready," continued his mother. Quickly, Kelly picked the chair up, an attempt to try to disprove her words. "Sweetie, yes you're growing up—and we need to accept that and give you more responsibility—but you're still just a kid."

"Our kid," said his father sweetly.

Kelly had the urge to roll his eyes, to huff in irritation, but he stayed quiet and listened. He was determined to prove to them he was capable of being mature, capable of being a serious villain like they were.

"In two months, when you're no longer grounded—"

"Two months," said Kelly loudly, dumbfounded. His mother scowled at him. Kelly quickly straightened up. "I mean... two months. That is a reasonable punishment for my actions. Thank you and please continue, mother."

"In two months," she continued, "when you're no longer grounded, we'll talk about this again. If you've proven to us that you've grown, then we will consider you joining the Guild."

Consider? There isn't even a guarantee? Again, he wanted to roll his eyes. It took everything in his power not to storm out of the room. "Okay," he said simply, hiding his anger.

"Oh," said his father suddenly. He watched as his dad pulled a peculiar metal object out of his pocket. "Here," he said, "the OSI gave this to us just before you came back."

It was his Talkie. The thing that got them back from the past. It had fifteen years' worth of rust on it, but it was still definitely his Talkie. He created the Talkies five months ago and, to think, there were three in existence at the time. He reached for it, but his mother grabbed it first.

"You can have this back when you're no longer grounded," she said. "That means no television, no video games, no Sound of Music and no making or using any gadgets of any kind. You hear me? If Dagwood calls, I'll make sure to tell him you won't be available."

Kelly only nodded—it's not like he could argue with them—as his parents stood. His mother kissed him on his forehead. "Dinner'll be ready in an hour," she said. "We'll call you down when it's time to set the table."

"In the meantime, clean this room. It's a mess," said his father, gesturing to all the clothes sprawled out onto his floor and furniture. He ruffled Kelly's hair and kissed his head.

They left the room and Kelly was left alone. Letting out a deep sigh, he began cleaning his room.

Two months, he thought. That's totally unfair. Last time he got in trouble, he just couldn't watch tv or go out for a week (which Kelly loved, because he spent that time making his Talkies). He isn't quite sure how he'll survive the two months without Dagwood or his devices. He'd like to just hibernate like a bear until it's all over, but he doubts his parents, or his body would let that ever happen.

There was a knock on his door and Kelly mumbled out a forlorn "Come in." Gary entered the room.

"Hey, how'd it go," he asked.

Kelly looked at him, his hands full with clothing. "Better than yesterday, but... not as good as I would have liked."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "kinda thought that would be the outcome."

"Got grounded for two months, too," Kelly continued. With his arms full, he walked over to his closet and dumped all the clothes inside.

"Two months?" said Gary. "Downstairs they were talking about four."

"Oh, well, that's a good sign then, right?" asked Kelly.

"Yeah, dude, that's totally a good sign."

Milkweed and Dagwood got their fifteen minutes of fame. Though Dagwood got to experience the better part of it, for he didn't have to spend most of it at home, grounded. Kelly spent a week in the spotlight at school. He had kids chanting his name and bombarding him with questions about the past the whole week. Unfortunately, it didn't last. Kids got bored hearing the same answers over and over again and quickly moved on to the next craze (which was a new video game Kelly was just dying to get his hands on). Monday morning, he was Milkweed, Heir of the Butterflies, but by Friday afternoon, they had gone back to calling him Kelly, just the clarinet player in band who happened to have spent a few hours in the past.

Kelly spent the rest of his two-month punishment on his best behavior, even taking on extra chores around the house. He needed his parents to know he was determined to win them over.

The two months had gone by quicker than Kelly had originally thought. He expected to be bored out of his mind, but the chores he was doing around the house and his school work kept him busy. Soon he was back to his old ways, inventing new devices and communicating with Dagwood through his Talkie.

Eventually, his parents sat him down for another long talk. It didn't go well for Kelly, however. "We'll think about it," was all they told him. His mom said she was proud of all that he had accomplished, but she still wasn't sure he was ready to arch. It took everything in Kelly's power not to scream and storm out. Instead, he asked what he needed to improve on and listened to all they had to say.

Almost a year had gone by without any change. The world's interest in Milkweed and Dagwood had long been over; they had moved on to the next craze, much like Kelly's classmates had. Still, Kelly remained hopeful that one day Milkweed and Dagwood might move back into the spotlight.

Kelly watched intently as the microwave heated up his popcorn, making sure to listen carefully to the popping sounds. He was spending yet another Friday night with Gary and Dagwood while his parents went out on date night. Because Dagwood was thirteen and Kelly was about to be thirteen, Gary was referred as their guardian now, not their babysitter. But it was just a word change; he was still the babysitter, Kelly knew.

Dagwood was beside Kelly, examining a small chocolate bar. Quickly it became uninteresting to him and he tossed it carelessly onto the counter where the other old Halloween sweets lay.

Gary sat at the kitchen table, watching the news on their new old and less staticky tv. Around Christmas time, their old one finally gave out and Kelly's mom replaced it with one she found at a discount store. It was certainly better than the old one, but it was still pretty terrible.

The Botox lady that represented Channel 5 News was standing outside of the VenTech building with a group of FBI agents in the background. Kelly's mom and dad were on their way out when the story got his dad's attention.

"We're live here at VenTech," the news lady announced. "It was just hours ago that an employer of Dr. Venture's leaked private information regarding his time machine. The worker chooses to remain anonymous, but he had this to say."

The image cut to a thin man behind a screen. His shadow was all that showed. "It's all a lie," he said. His voice had been altered, so he had an unnatural deep voice, but he sounded almost like a pirate or a sailor to Kelly. It reminded him of Dagwood's fake accent he used when he wore Kelly's old pirate costume. "It be Jonas Venture Jr. who invented the time machine. His brother just slapped his name onto it and claimed it as his own."

The image went back to the woman. "Both the FBI and OSI are investigating. Currently, the machine is being guarded by top OSI agents until this matter is resolved."

"Would you look at this… I know he's an idiot, but geez," he heard his dad's voice say. "I can't have Dr. Venture going to jail. I'll be out of a job!"

"Calm down, honey," said his mom. "They're just taking the machine away. Even if he did steal it, it's not like they can do anything about it. His brother's dead."

Finally, the timer went to zero and the microwave dinged. Kelly eagerly took out the bag. "They'll probably just give him a slap on the wrist. Make him give credit to his brother or something," Kelly chimed in. He shook the bag in his hands, making sure the butter inside got on all the popcorn.

Dagwood moved to the fridge. "Yeah, he's too powerful for anything permanent to happen to him," he said, looking inside the fridge. Most of it was junk, like fruits and vegetables and other healthy stuff, but in the very back lay a beautiful cake, untouched.

"Exactly," agreed Kelly's mom. "Sweetie, you have nothing to worry about. Now don't let this ruin your night."

"Fine," said his dad, grabbing the keys to the butterfly mobile off the counter, "let's go." He gave a weak wave and shuffled his way out of the kitchen.

"Oh, dear God, it's gonna ruin his night," said his mom with an exasperated sigh. She turned to Kelly and kissed him goodbye. "We'll be back before eleven. There's pizza money on the counter—the cake's off limits," she added as Dagwood pulled out the large cake in the fridge.

"What?" said Dagwood.

"Mom, we can't have cake?"

"It's for your party tomorrow, sweetie," she said. "I can't believe my baby's turning thirteen. It seems like only yesterday we were driving you home from the hospital." Her motherly urge taking over, she pulled Kelly in to a tight embrace.

"Mom!" said Kelly, his cheeks red from embarrassment. "It's not a big deal. It's just another birthday."

"I know, I know," she said. "I'm sorry, sweetie. You're just growing up so fast."

"You know, Dr. Mrs. Monarch," started Dagwood, "in some cultures, thirteen is the age where a boy becomes a man. Now, that's something you might want to consider when you're with your Guild council."

"Dagwood," warned Kelly. He had stopped asking his parents to join the Guild after it became apparent they had already decided no. Kelly hated it, but he needed to show them he was mature enough to respect their decision. Even if it was the stupidest decision on the planet.

"Honey, let's go," yelled his dad from the other room.

She gave Kelly one last hug and kiss goodbye. "Stay away from the cake," she said. "Call if you need anything."

Kelly watched mindlessly as the von Trapp family hiked their way up the mountain with Climb Ev'ry Mountain playing in the background. The credits came on screen… and, suddenly, it went black. Gary had turned off the television.

"Okay, bedtime," he said, nervously looking at the grandfather clock.

"What? It's only—ten forty-five!" argued Kelly.

"Dagwood's ready for bed," said Gary, gesturing towards the sleeping Dagwood, who was snoring loudly and drooling all over the couch pillow. He wasn't a fan of old classic musicals like Kelly was. But, he didn't protest when Kelly suggested they watch it. Kelly was about to have a birthday, after all.

"Well… that's beside the point," said Kelly.

He slapped Dagwood's leg, jerking him awake. "Is it over," asked Dagwood tiredly. He yawned and stretched his muscles out.

"Yeah… but Gary wants us to go to bed."

"Great, I'm beat," said Dagwood, standing. "Plus, I've got the part where all the kids say cuckoo stuck in my head. Not the song, just the cuckooing."

Gary glanced at the clock again.

"Birthday thing?" asked Kelly curiously.

"What—no! What makes you think… Okay, yeah," said Gary, defeated. "Your parents told me to get you in bed before they got home. You don't have to sleep. You just have to be up in your room."

Dagwood fell asleep straight away. He didn't even unroll his sleeping bag. Kelly waited for his parents to get home. Maybe they were getting him a new bike; the bike he has now was old and outdated, no bike for a teenager. Or maybe they were just going to set up for his party; it will probably just be a casual affair with more of his parents' friends than his own. He isn't quite sure what the surprise might be.

He waited eagerly by his door. When eleven came, Kelly started to get excited. What if it was, like, an Air Hockey game or something and they needed to spend the night setting it up. Eleven thirty was when he started to get worried. They said they would be back before eleven. Kelly even tiptoed out into the hallway to look and see if they were downstairs. All he saw was Gary watching television in the living room. Maybe Gary was just the distraction. Midnight came around and Kelly still hadn't heard the front door open. Something was up. Unfortunately for Kelly, he fell asleep at around two, so there was no way of knowing what his parents were up to.

"Rise, Milkweed, Prince of the Caterpillars," a scratchy voice echoed in Kelly's head.

"Cut it out, Daggy," mumbled Kelly, turning away from the voice. He felt a pain in his neck, a side effect from sleeping on the floor, no doubt.

There was an awkward cough. "I said rise, Milkweed, Prince of the Caterpillars," the voice repeated.

Kelly opened his eyes. Watch was standing over him with a big smile sprung across his face. "What… why are you in my room?" asked Kelly, rubbing his tired eyes.

"This isn't your room," responded Watch. "Now, I'm only going to say this one more time. Rise, Milkweed, Prince of the Caterpillars."

Upon standing, Kelly realized he was in nothing but his underwear. "Dude! You undressed me?" he said, attempting to cover himself with his arms and hands. He didn't know what was going on, but he hoped it was just some sort of sick dream.

"It's part of the initiation," said Watch simply. "And don't worry, it was your mom who undressed you."

"Like that's any better!"

"Yeah, it was pretty awkward," he admitted. "Probably should have woken you first, then let you take your own clothes off. This is a process—we're learning as we go." In his hands he held up a black cloth. "I'm going to blindfold you now," he explained loudly. "No need to be alarmed."

"Woah," said Kelly, snatching the cloth out of Watch's hands, "can you please just tell me what's going on? Why are you doing this?"

"It's part of your initiation," said Watch simply. "For the Guild."

"The Guild?" said Kelly, stunned. "Like, I'm in? I'm a villain now? This isn't some sort of joke or anything?"

"No, you're totally in. Congratulations!" he said. "Oh, and happy birthday."

Kelly turned away, feeling a rush of excitement run through his body. He did it. He finally proved to his parents he was worthy. He celebrated in silence as Watch watched on. Finally, Watch pulled Kelly back into reality. "I don't mean to rush you or anything but… everyone's sort of waiting for us." He motioned to the big red door beside them.

"Oh, right," said Kelly. He let Watch put the blindfold on him and lead him into the initiation room.

"Milkweed," said a terrifyingly deep voice. Milkweed recognized it as Red Death's voice. "The Caterpillar Prince and Heir of the Butterflies, and… Dagwood, we have brought you both here today because you have proven your worth to us."

"Months ago," said a voice that sounded an awful lot like Dr. Mrs. The Monarch's, "it was decided you two would be among the first teens to serve as members of The Guild of Calamitous Intent."

"Now that the younger of you has come of age," continued Phantom Limb's voice. Milkweed couldn't help but smile at that. "It is time… for your initiation."

Milkweed's blindfold was removed, and he turned to see Dagwood, standing in nothing but his purple silk boxers, beside him. Around them were the Guild councilmembers, sitting behind a television-like screen that hid their faces

"Kneel," said Phantom Limb.

Both Milkweed and Dagwood knelt, and Watch and Ward quickly put heavy black blankets over them.

"These are the cloaks of our fallen," said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch. "You wear the cloaks today to remind you how heavy the burden of villainy can be sometimes."

"Drink this," said Phantom Limb. Both were handed a skull with a peculiar red liquid inside. Feeling the skull, Milkweed could tell it was made out of plastic. "It is the blood of our sacred."

Milkweed swished the liquid around in the skull. "This… this isn't real blood, is it?"

"Cranberry juice," said Dr. Mrs. The Monarch simply. "It symbolizes the blood of our sacred."

"Yeah, I'm not really into cranberries," said Dagwood. "Got any grape?"

Phantom Limb let out an exasperated sighed. "Just… drink the juice."

"Okay, sorry… forgot you guys were old and have to drink cranberry juice all the time," mumbled Dagwood.

Together, Kelly and Dagwood drank the sacred blood from the skulls. "You drink the sacred blood today to connect you and your villain brethren. Your blood now flows with ours."

"Now rise, young Milkweed and Dagwood," said Radical Left's voice. "Leave your mundane selves behind and start your life anew as level one villains."

Milkweed stood, his cloak falling off him, but Dagwood remained kneeling.

"Wait a minute… What," said Dagwood, annoyance in his voice.

Finally, it hit Milkweed, too. "Level one?"

Comment if you have any question regarding the story. I did my best to tie things together. The ending's kind of lame, I know, but I wanted to do a typical Venture bros episode ending where little to nothing gets resolved. Yeah, Milkweed gets to be a villain, but he's only a level one (and won't be working alongside his dad or Gary).
I do kinda want to make a sequel to this. It would be about Milkweed and Dagwood being level one villains, but are seen more as celebrity bad guys rather than actual villains (which they love). They're more show than tell. Maybe I'll write that someday. Who knows?
Thank you so much, you lovely readers. You have been a joy to write for.