Hey Hey, He's the Monkey, by DoofusPrime

Notes - Monkey Fist Appreciation Day? No way! Here's the first chapter of a story focusing on the man of the hour. Er, man of the day I mean. Hope you guys enjoy it!

The Object of Desire


It was in the way their nimble hands reached effortlessly from branch to branch. The way their tails acted like another limb, fluid and expressive as the rest of their bodies. The way they were so human in their appearance, in their behavior. So intelligent. So confident. More carefree than any human being Monty Fiske had met.

He watched as the monkeys frolicked and cavorted with each other behind the iron bars. Some leaped among the small scattering of leafy trees which cast their shade over the ground inside the cage. Some crowded around the watering hole in the center of their enclosure, taking leisurely drinks or preening each other for insects and dirt. A few of them crowded against the cage bars and chattered insistently at Monty, who stood with his mother and father and the handful of zoo-goers who were gathered around the exhibit with them. They were visiting the Magical Kingdom Zoo, one of Monty's favorites - and conveniently close to home, too.

Monkey hands stretched through the iron cage bars. Fists clenched in yearning. Monty had seen some of the monkeys eating a few scraps of food earlier, but apparently the zoo keeper had not given them enough, as the monkeys in front of him looked like they were hoping for a free handout.

"Do we have any bananas left, father?"

Monty looked up at his father as he asked the question. Lord Worthington Fiske looked down at his son with a stern glint in his eye, his mustache twitching in a particularly impatient manner.

"No we do not, Monty. You ate the last one."

Monty sighed as he returned his attention to the monkeys. One of them reached a little farther than the rest, and Monty was about to hold the monkey's hand in sympathy when his father slapped it away. The monkey gave a screech and retreated farther into the cage, away from the bars.

"Heaven knows what those things could transmit to you, Monty! Have some sense, boy."

"Sorry, father."

Lady Esmeralda Fiske rolled her eyes at the interaction between her husband and son, fanning herself with one hand and holding tightly to her purse with another. She looked around the crowd apprehensively and pulled the purse a little closer to her body as she threw a tired glance at the monkey cage.

"Haven't we looked at these disgusting little beasts for long enough? I'd like to visit the powder room in a moment. Not that a place like this can have much in the way of a powder room. I dread to think about what I might find, judging by the appearance of some of the people here."

"I'm sure Monty will be finished in a few moments, dear," said Worthington. "I saw the facilities just a few moments ago, back on that path that went by the reptile house. I'm certain you can find it on your own."

"Oh, very well."

Esmeralda left her husband and son behind as she retraced her steps back down the cobblestone path they had taken to get to the monkey cages. Monty watched her leave for a moment before turning his attention back to the monkeys in front of him. He watched them rapturously, tried to imagine himself joining them in their joyful abandon. These, according to the bronze plaque fastened on top of a wooden column in front of the cage, were a species of Spider Monkey brought to England from Brazil.

Monkey Fist didn't need the plaque to tell him that, of course. He had read many books on monkeys already, and could recognize the ones he had seen at the zoo by sight. He loved monkeys. All primates, really, but he definitely had a preference for the fluidity and grace of monkeys and apes that held stronger arboreal tendencies. Spider Monkeys and Gibbons were a couple of his favorites. There was a certain combination of skill, power, and nimble reflex that appealed to him more than the power found in some larger primates like gorillas.

"I don't understand why you find these so fascinating," said his father.

Monty had no answer. At least he had no answer that would be easy to put into words, and certainly no answer that his father would understand. They did not see eye to eye on his fascination.

"Don't you think they look free?"

"They're in a cage, boy. Are you daft?"

His father's response stung Monty a little, but he let it roll over him as he watched the monkeys. It wasn't really the cage that he was thinking about, but the monkeys themselves. They had no cares or responsibilities. No rules and regulations to follow, no expectations to live up to. They were more restricted in the cage, to be sure. But in the wild they could do whatever they wanted. Go wherever they wanted. Monkeys were limited by their physical size, maybe, by their place in their social group, but if a monkey was strong enough, he could just make the others do what he wanted. If he was at the top...

"You know," said Worthington, interrupting his son's thoughts, "this may be one of the last times we visit this zoo. Perhaps the last time. I'm too busy to take you here, and it was a miracle I convinced your mother to come along this time. I imagine she'd be mortified if anyone we knew saw us here, and I can't say I disagree with her when I see some of the types that frequent this place."

An obese man passed by and gave Worthington a nasty look, apparently having overheard the end of his comment. Worthington glanced at the hairy pudge protruding from under the man's unfortunately-sized shirt and turned his nose up, giving a haughty sniff, before patting his son on the shoulder.

"And you won't have the time to come here very often once you start preparing for university. No time at all, I suspect. You've given us a devil of a time sneaking off to come here in the past, but it's time for you to grow up, Monty. I don't understand this strange fascination with animals you have, but it's time for my son to live up to the Fiske name. Time for you to set your sights on greener pastures, my boy!"

"I don't have a fascination with all animals," Monty replied, a little defensively.

"Never mind that. You need to begin thinking about the future."

"Father, university is still years away."

"You must choose a focus, Monty."

Despite his father's last comment, Monty knew that his focus was already as good as chosen. Sure enough, his father continued his lecture, confirming what Monty already knew.

"You know archaeology has always been a passion for me, and my social contacts would offer you many opportunities in the field. With our family name and influence, you would have no trouble getting into the right circles, but you'd have to work hard. Don't think I'm going to let you coast through life waiting for your inheritance."

Monty sighed. His enjoyment of the monkey exhibit was gradually fading, washed away in the face of another torrent of stifling conversation with his father.

"What about working with animals, or being a zoo keeper?" he asked. "Perhaps there's something to study in university for that?"

"Don't be silly," laughed Worthington. "I've already told you, that is simply not an option. I've tolerated your interested in these things, Monty," - at this, he cast a disdainful glance over the monkeys in front of them - "but working with them? Such a dirty profession. Not a profession suitable for a Fiske, to be sure."

A dirty profession, his father called it. Monty fought back the urge to ask why in the world his father wanted him to be an archaeologist if he had a problem with dirty jobs, but then, he knew that his father wasn't talking about literal dirt. The career itself was really beside the point. Monty knew that his mother and father were all about image, all about living up to the role that their affluent life demanded. And Monty was a part of that image. Today, his father was being unusually generous by taking him to the zoo – probably because he had been pressing Monty harder on his studies and social obligations, which would only be increasing as his schooling went on. His parents were usually very explicit in their plans for Monty. They both had big plans for him. What he thought about it was really quite irrelevant.

"Come on Monty," his father told him, "keep a stiff upper lip. We can't be like those monkeys, now can we? We have obligations, we have to do what's expected. It's part of being an adult, my boy."

Monty tried to affect a stiff upper lip but failed miserably. He watched the lips of the monkeys in the cage hang loosely as they chattered at one another, fighting over a few scraps of fruit that a young child beside him had just passed through the bars. Maybe his father was right. His life would soon be changing. It was time to grow up, time to take up the burden that came with the name of Fiske.

He had enjoyed his visit to the zoo, but now it was time to say goodbye to his friends.


"Onward, my monkey minions!"

Hoots and chatters rent the still night air as Monkey Fist urged his simian allies into the Forbidden City Museum compound. Apparently the museum's curator was completely unaware of that value of what was held within the museum, as Monkey Fist found no guards barring his entrance. He scaled the museum's wall effortlessly, following his horde of minions as they leaped and bounded across the roof until they reached a skylight. Monkey Fist opened a panel in the skylight and leaped down into a room with his companions. Ahead of him, illuminated in a circle of moonlight, was the object of his deepest desires. A glint of light across the polished pendant, a sensual wink, invited Monkey Fist to take what he deserved. This was what he had been waiting for his whole life.

Well, technically he had read about it in some ancient scrolls last week. But in a general sense, he had been waiting for it his whole life. It was an artifact, like many others, that would grant him what he really wanted: power.

"At long last!" he cried out after removing the glass covering from the display case. He picked the amulet lovingly up from its red pillow, admiring it in the dim light of the closed museum. "The Amulet of the Monkey King!"

Monkey Fist found his gloating interrupted by a familiar voice. Two, actually.

"Ahem! Just one little problem!"

"That doesn't belong to you!"

Looking up from his trinket, Monkey Fist glared at the unwelcome arrival of Ron Stoppable and Kim Possible.

"Kim Possible! But how? The stealth of the ninja monkeys is-"

Monkey Fist paused. When he thought about it, was it really that surprising that his teen foes would find him? He wasn't exactly the most social member of the villain community, but even Monkey Fist knew that Kim Possible had foiled many schemes. And Ron Stoppable, of course, was a particular thorn in his side. If he was being honest, Monkey Fist knew that he should have expected an interruption to his evil schemes; it just seemed like it was the way things were done. And now they'd trade a few comments, fight, Monkey Fist would get away, and – he hated to admit – probably be defeated by his teen foes in a second climactic fight at some later point. After which he would be imprisoned until he escaped and embarked in a new scheme.

"Dude, the stealth of your ninja monkeys is what?"

Monkey Fist snarled at Ron's impudent question. "What did you say, boy?"

"You just stopped in the middle of your sentence."

Monkey Fist had no idea what Stoppable was going on about, but he knew he couldn't let his foes thwart him this time. He deserved this amulet. He deserved the untold powers that would be granted to him once he became the Monkey King, to which the ancient texts had vaguely alluded. No impudent teens would stop him. Instead of dawdling about and trading blows, he would put the Amulet of the Monkey King on right now – no waiting! He slipped the amulet's thread around his neck and fastened it, feeling an eerie power course through him almost immediately. Kim and Ron gasped.

"Hey, you didn't even order your monkey minions to attack! No fair!"

Kim nodded in agreement with Ron. "Yeah, that's definitely not supervillain etiquette. I even had a naner joke ready," she said, holding up a banana peel and pouting.

"Too bad! I have no interest in etiquette when the powers of the Monkey King await me!"

Monkey Fist cackled wildly as he felt the surge of energy rising from within. A powerful forced lifted him into the air as a beam of yellow light shot down from on high, pulsing into the amulet on his neck. The green color of the amulet exploded into a blinding halo of light. He could hear simian screeches echoing through the air; some of them came from his monkey minions, who gathered around and leaped in excitement at the sight of their master's transformation. But some of the hoots and screeches were otherworldly. Monkey Fist heard them in his mind, whispering sweet monkey promises of power and glory. He floated back down to the ground, feeling a strange sensation on his neck.

"Nice tattoo," said Ron.

Monkey Fist noticed Stoppable's naked mole rat sitting perched on a shoulder, tittering with glee at his owner's sarcastic comment.

"What tattoo? On my neck?"

Monkey Fist had expected some kind of instantaneous change, perhaps making him invincible, but he had to admit that he didn't feel much different now that the surge of power was dying down. There was definitely something, but it wasn't quite the adrenaline rush he had expected. Maybe the amulet took a while to power up. He should have spent a little more time deciphering those ancient texts, but sometimes Monkey Fist got impatient when it came to his anticipation of power.

"Monkey ninjas, attack!"

Chattering monkeys surged forward as Monkey Fist leaped with them, baring his teeth as he charged towards Kim Possible. Ron Stoppable was running in terror from a pack of his monkey minions, and he wanted to save the boy for later anyway. Kim stopped Monkey Fist's charge with a combination kick and back flip that sent him reeling back. He shook his head, gathering his senses as Kim made her landing and came at him, fists flying. The two of them sparred back and forth across the museum. Monkey grinned as he fought his foe; she seemed to be paying special attention not to break the valuable artifacts, which meant that she was holding back a little.

Monkey Fist pushed forward, putting everything into his attack, but he felt a rising concern. Everything was not as much as he had expected. The surge of power he had experienced as he put on the amulet was incredible, but it had passed in a moment, an ephemeral burst of energy that only left a strange lingering feeling in its place. He didn't feel any stronger at all, really. A little different, perhaps, but not stronger. He found himself gradually being pushed back by Kim as she redoubled her efforts. Her punches and kicks landed as effortlessly as they always did, and Monkey Fist was hard pressed to match her. He snarled in frustration; when was this stupid amulet going to kick in?

"You sure that's an Amulet of the Monkey King?" said Kim as she landed a heavy blow to Monkey Fist's chest, knocking him to the ground. "Seems like the only thing you're getting right now is a royal butt kicking."

Another cheeky jab. Monkey Fist got up and fended off another blow from Kim as he retreated a little, assessing the situation. Ron Stoppable seemed to be overpowering the monkeys that were pouncing at him, mostly by running around so much that they were becoming disoriented. Things were not looking good; Monkey Fist decided the best thing to do might be to retreat to his mansion, at least temporarily, and wait for his powers to increase. He felt disappointed at the anticlimax to putting on the amulet, but then maybe it needed some kind of additional rituals to activate it. Maybe there was something he had missed in the ancient texts.

"You'll soon feel the full extent of my wrath, Kim Possible," he said as he motioned for his monkey ninjas to gather around him in a defensive circle. "And you as well, Ron Stoppable! The next time I meet you shall – uh – the next time, I'll beat you up good!"

Kim and Ron raised their eyebrows as Monkey Fist's rant came to an awkward end. He felt a blush creep over his cheeks; it was a strange slip of the tongue. Not the best choice of words, and it definitely didn't make for a dignified exit. Ah well.

Brushing off his verbal gaffe, Monkey Fist turned and ran until he burst through the door of the museum. His monkey minions whipped their prehensile tails about and knocked a few valuable artifacts from their pedestals, forcing Kim and Ron to slow down and grab them as they made their escape. As an archaeologist – a former archaeologist, anyway – Monkey Fist felt uncomfortable using the tactic, but you had to do what you had to do.

"Next time," he muttered under his breath.

Kim and Ron were in pursuit, but they had no chance against the natural abilities of Monkey Fist and his monkey ninjas. He felt the tattoo on his neck itching strangely as he left the museum and leaped over the grounds on all fours. As soon as he was fully imbued with the unstoppable power promised by the amulet, his teen foes would regret ever having the gall to cross him.


Notes - That's it for the first chapter. Reviews appreciated as always. There are two more chapters to go, and this story is pretty much already written so it will not be very long between updates. There is humor in this story, although I admit the title might be a little too wacky for its overall tone - but I couldn't resist a corny Monkees joke. Ah well.