Total recall

A rare and unusual disorder in the venture family can make everything and nothing absolutely different.

Disclaimer: I don't own the venture brothers, be it the person(s) mentioned or the show.

Episode 01: Dia de Los Dangerous!

Tijuana Mexico, one of the drunkest party cities in North America, land of tequila and spring break loving teens from America, was currently playing host to a few… Interesting individuals.

"And that is why… why… none of you are listening, are you?" A balding man asked. The (possibly) honored stood behind a podium in a (Mostly) empty auditorium.

He stepped down, more irritated than frustrated at the man apologizing to him in halting English.

"Whatever, I came, I talked, where's my money?" The check handed to him was huge, he couldn't believe how many… pesos… he got. He refrained from a massive and unpleasant amount of cussing by downing a "diet" pill.

"Can you believe this Brock? Me, the Doctor Venture, comes and gives them a lecture, and they want to pay me in pesos, Brock, pesos!" Brock, the tall blond and almost disturbingly muscled bodyguard, grunted non-committaly. He obviously didn't care.

"Hey pop, pop!" Yelled the newest, and blondest irritance. Hank was running up to where the two older men were, wearing a sombrero and waving about bags of candy skulls.

"Where's your brother, Hank?" The old redhead asked his son.

"Here dad." A quiet voice said from behind the two older men. turned around to face his son, not noticing, or perhaps not caring that he did not have a poncho, sombrero, or a ridiculous amount of death-themed candy.

Actually, Dean, the youngest son of the current Venture scion, was dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt and a more formal black button up t-shirt over that. In contrast to his brother, he was a very unhealthy and skinny looking redhead who, by the deep, dark bags under his eyes, desperately needed more sleep than he was getting. On his back was a somewhat small back-pack, bulging slightly to one side.

"Now Dean, you know better than to sneak off like that." The (possibly) good doctor told his errant son.

"I was listening to your speech on super science." The redhead said in his quiet voice. The doctor quirked an eyebrow. Neither of his two children were all that interested in his profession, though Hank may have had a better excuse. The doctor patted his son on the head and responded condescendingly.

"Of course you were son. Of course you were." He ignored the small butterfly that landed on his shoulder, mocking his child.

"Here's twenty bucks for each of you boys, go do… something. Get fireworks, have fun, but don't come back until tonight. Got it, boys?" The boys grabbed the proffered bills from their father. Hank held his out in front of him, staring at it as if it were a crisp, fresh, c-note. His other son just pocketed the crinkled note.

Hank apparently already had a plan, running off to go and gather… something. Brock followed as quietly as he could, which, considering his training, was rather silent. Dean merely sighed and started following after the Swedish murder machine before his father stopped him.

"Now Dean, I know I probably don't have to say this but-"

"Keep an eye on your brother, and don't let him tell people his last name, or let them know that he has money." Dean interrupted his father by finishing the sentence from memory.

"That's right. Well, have fun!" If could seem eager, then that's how Dean would've described him as he left. Instead he was somewhat eager, but still mostly annoyed.

This presented a problem for the young man. He had no idea where his brother and their bodyguard had gone. He just went back in the same general direction, keeping an ear out for the sounds of bullets and screaming that would giveaway the psychotic older mans position.

------

Dean didn't find the blond duo until well after it was too late to have a normal day. His brother was locked in the trunk of a car, and Brock was unconscious, if not dead, behind it. There were two men arguing in the car, which wasn't moving yet. Dean opened the passenger door, startling the two costumed weirdos.

"Move over." He told them as he squeezed into the vehicle.

"Who the hell are you?!" The henchmen he shoved to the side yelled.

"He's Venture's other kid." The driving henchmen said. They still hadn't started driving.

"Then what the hell's he doing getting in the car!?"

"It's less of a hassle to get kidnapped than deal with my dad over my brother. Are we going to get moving, you're wasting gas." #21 stared at the redhead while his partner, #24, started driving.

The drive was long and uncomfortably silent, filled with many potholes and weird, unpleasant smirks from Dean every time they heard their cargo bump around.

--- ---

The "Holding Cell" the boys were placed in didn't look much like a prison room. It looked like an under furnished storage room with a couple of cots. After getting himself situated, Dean was sitting on one of the cots reading while his brother, who was looking a bit worse for wear, was half draped on another cot halfway across the room.

His wristwatch communicator had been taken by one of the more competent henches. He really wasn't all that worried about it, considering they hadn't bothered taking his cell phone.

"Ugh… Hey Dean-o! Where are we…?" Hank was slowly waking up, unaware of where exactly he was. He was surprised to see his brother, considering he'd been left far behind when he'd gone to get H.E.L.P.E.R. painted.

"A room in the flying base of this one guy." Dean responded as he flipped a page. He sounded a little irritated.

"What guy, hey, is the room flying? That means we're flying! We can fly! Fhwzooh!" The hyperactive blond started running around the room, arms out and attempting to imitate a plane. He never noticed his brother putting out a foot, but he did trip on said foot.

"Sit down and shut the hell up. I've already got a headache." Hank didn't get up from the floor. Dean nudged him with his foot, and Hank rolled over, his eyes teary, his lips quivering.

"If you start crying, we're going to find out if this hardcover is harder than your head." Hank silently and sullenly got up and laid down on his cot, facing the wall. Dean merely flipped another page in his book.

Sometime during their interment Dean pulled a pair of water bottles out of his backpack and tossed one to his still sulking brother. Aside from this nothing had changed between the two, with Dean still reading and his brother still sulking.

"You think we should do somethin'?" Hank finally asked his younger brother.

"Like what? Jump our captor, possibly get shot for your little 'Adventure' fix, just plain go do something stupid? If you want to do something, they never bothered locking the door, but I've got less than a hundred pages left." Hank brightened up as if the earlier incident hadn't even transpired. He got up with the strange, unquenchable energy of an ADHD child to check the door. Just as he went to turn the doorknob he found resistance. He twisted it harder, and whatever was on the other side did the same. Finally the two twisted the same way, opening the door inward and missing Hank by mere inches.

A strange man stood in the doorway. He wore a black jumpsuit and these weird accessories, culminating in a large pair of insectile wings on his back… Monarch butterfly wings, if Dean guessed right. What truly made the sight strange were the cookies.

Supervillians didn't play the good host for captives. They just don't.

"YARGH!" Hank jumped the oddly dressed man, pitifully slapping and rolling around on the ground with him. It was an altogether sad sight. What made it worse was that the butterfly wasn't even trying to win, and yet was. Winning, that is.

Dean grabbed a cookie off the floor to nibble at while his brother made a fool of himself. It actually got pretty boring after the first twenty seconds, and Dean was halfway done with his cookie when the unexpected happened.

A car fell through the roof. A freaking car, came and fell through the roof. This was a Brock Samson thing, it had to be.

And Brock was driving, go figure. Then the violence came. Lots and lots of violence, mostly by running over random henchmen.

"I have to wonder if waking up yesterday was worth it?" Dean asked himself as he moved over to stand with his brother and father, well outside of the range of the gratuitous and self serving violence.

---

Back on board the X-1 their father had some interesting news.

"Now boys, Daddy has some bad news. There was an incident back in my hotel room, so I need one of you to give up a kidney." It was strange how the super-scientist could say such a thing with a straight face.

"We'll do rock paper scissors for it, okay Dean?" Hank asked his younger brother, a stern expression on his face, seeming as though he had every intention of winning. Dean shrugged, an unpleasant gleam in his sunken, tired eyes.

"Alright Dean-o, one, two-HURK!" Hank hunched over, holding himself and whimpering, tears of pain leaking unwillingly from his eyes.

"Looks like I win Hank, foot beats a pair of rocks." Dean sat back down in his chair on the X-1, ignoring the whimpering of his brother as he was taken to the back of the radioactive jet.

Honestly, who'd trust the fate of his kidneys to a game of rock, paper, scissors?