My take on the "Perry turns human" gig. Done mostly for the fact that most of the others annoy me for some reason or another, be it the character design, or how it's approached or… well anything. May become a bit cliché after a while, or even from the start. I'm not going for some whole new idea here, I'm just trying to do the idea right, you know? I also don't have the ending planned out too well, so as things develop, please, feel free to throw in your own views and ideas.
I also warn you now, that I am an avid shipper. I will try to keep this a light and friendly as I can, but I do tend to go into fics with certain pairings in mind. I guarantee we won't go into mature territory here, shipping wise at least, but it could go anywhere from subtle ambiguity to flat out blatant. I'm only saying something, because I know how bad shipping wars can be, so I don't want to hear any "I like this story, but could you have this pairing instead of such and such pairing."
No, the answer is no.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, I really really do.
This has been inspired by all those amazing, actually close to on style pics of human Perry all over Deviant art. Special mention goes to "Hot-choc", "Silk-Ward", "Pentamerone" (Love the hair darling!), and "Fuwa2-Kyara" (who has just an amazing platypus!Doof, seriously) for their "mweee" inspiring designs, which gave me hope, and sweet release from an overly feminine Perry design. While they are certainly not my only inspiration, they are the only ones I can think of off the top of my head. Thank you.
Warning, gets really freaking dark/bad near the end of this chapter. But we have to get through the nitty gritty to get to the good stuff.
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"Curse You Perry The Platy-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I'M ON FIRE!"
The howl was almost as amusing as the subsequent explosion, the shockwave of which Perry rode a respectable distance away so he could circle around and check to see just how much damage the Doctor had taken. It was an unusually showy defeat, but Perry got some perverse satisfaction from the well timed destruction of his nemesis's latest scheme. Right on cue, Perry felt the expected ball of flaming shrapnel fly past his hang glider, across town, and into the Flynn-Fletcher backyard. From a distance, he could see the mass catch in the large, boat shaped carnival ride sticking several stories in the air. With momentum, the boat swung over its support once, twice, three times before flying off, carrying the whole thing into the ocean.
Had he been close enough, no doubt he would have heard cheering coming from the "534th Bi-monthly Viking pride festival" at the beach, who watched in awe as the archaic ship burned and sunk beneath the ocean.
An unexpected wind from the east powered into him with sudden force, and Perry couldn't pinpoint the cause until a moment latter when he righted himself some yards down in the air, shaking the sound of jet engines from his ringing ears.
This time he was ready, so when the small, slim, silver craft came racing toward him once more it was met with an expert dip of the wing of his hanglider, and it raced past, leaving him unscathed.
With an absent flick of what passed for his thumb, he flipped a switch on the handle of his glider, causing the built in engines to kick to life. With his greater speed and control, he swung back around, using his maneuverability to stay ahead of the craft, sure that Doctor D was out for revenge for scorching his furniture.
It took three, long passes, and various near misses before he spotted his enemy. He had expected him to be on the outer skirts of the large outer patio, cackling with glee as he maneuvered the controls. Instead he was… still on fire?
Doctor Doofenshmirtz shook the fire extinguisher while looking into the nozzle in a vain attempt to put out the flames from the oil of his "French Fry-inator", not seeming to notice the fact that both his left sleeve and hair were in flames. Doof looked up long enough for said extinguisher to decide to discharge right into his face, with almost comical force.
Perry shook his head in exasperation, and perhaps a little fondness. He couldn't tell whether Dr. D had been ready to grin and wave enthusiastically, or give him the bird. It was a close call.
Idiot, well at least he's no longer on fire. But if he's not controlling the craft, then what in the world-
The distraction cost him, because it was then that the triangular craft chose to swing around, back into sight, tearing one of its wings through the cloth of Agent P's glider.
It struck true, and his glider hung helpless for a second, before beginning it's wobbly, if not quick descent.
Perry abandoned the glider for the ground, and for an O.W.C.A grunt to confiscate latter in the day. It was definitely attacking him, though it didn't appear to have any projectile weapons of any sort. Good, because neither did he. With their highly specialized weaponry, today's mission hadn't predicted the need, and one hadn't been issued. The Jetpack, if he could slip it out of his grosgrain hatband and decompress it, had speed on its side, but definitely not enough to out run the sleek little missile.
If he could get into an area with more tall buildings, he could lose it temporarily, and get close enough without getting hurt to hop on top and dismantle it mid air.
It was the sort of maneuver he learned in basic training, the sort of maneuver he did daily to various robots and even Doof himself. With a great deal of confidence and a plan, he slipped the other shoulder strap of his jet pack over his shoulder and some 30 stories in the air, hit the ignition.
The machine sputtered, and horribly, unexpectedly, died. Once more, twice, and a hurried urgency settled in. The slim air shuttle was circling around in the distance. At the right angle, he could trap it with his chute. It might propel him close enough to catch onto one of the buildings. But he could already see that the angle was all wrong. It would come up from below, impaling him with the force of his own body.
He pressed the button harder, heard it sputter, knew he didn't have the time nor tools to take it off and fix it midair.
He cursed abandoning the glider. He could have used it to evade the incoming missile, slowed his descent, anything but this.
Bracing for impact, Agent P caught the barest glimpse of sunlight off the bottom of the craft, caught the sharp frontward edge. It cut into his fingers with the force of it, and they numbed instantly with impact and windchill. The slickness of his blood, maybe something else entirely, was too much, and his fingers let go without his permission before he could even register holding on. It was going too fast, and when he fell into the hatch on the underside that had caught the sun a second before, it was with enough force to knock him senseless.
The hatch closed just as quickly as it had opened, leaving him in total darkness.
He struggled. There wasn't enough room to even pull his arm straight to punch, nor enough room to build momentum for a good kick or whack of his tail.
He was as good as bound.
Perry calmed quickly, unsure of how much air was available to him. In the darkness, he carefully felt the space around him. The sides were metallic, cold, smooth. He could hear the sound of air rushing around him at high speeds, but there were no telltale drafts to expose cracks. He prodded the tender creases of his fingertips, trying to ease and stop the bleeding, since he couldn't lick them clean as instinct demanded of him. Under the swollen numbness and the tacky feel of blood, he felt something else, smooth and waxy. Lifting his fingers to the holes in his bill that served as nostrils proved a difficult and exhausting challenge in the hard pressed space, but he managed it after some time.
It had an odorless sort of tang, the ambiguous, musky scent of a heavy oil, though Perry couldn't bring to mind any waxy oils that could survive under such high speeds. He refused to taste it for any more clues. The last thing he needed was to be poisoned.
Lying there, Perry the Platypus realized that he wouldn't have been able to grasp onto the back of this vessel long enough to open it up anyways, even if his pack had worked. Whoever had built this device had done it with such personal tactics in mind. Judging by the way the oil slicked when he rubbed it on the walls of his prison, Perry would never have gotten the grip he needed sitting still on the ground, let alone at those speeds in the air.
Minutes, hours, days, Perry was unsure of how long he spent trapped in the dark, void of stimuli. Sometimes, the cold got very bad, and he spent an eternity shivering deep in his chest.
Disappointment in himself mounted when, along the way, he noticed a chill on his scalp, and realized he had dropped his hat.
Great.
Gradually, he became aware of the numbness. Starting in his fingers, it crawled up his arms and had started on his shoulders before he really felt it. He was glad he decided not to taste it.
Drugged.
Now he saw why the outside was greased. This vessel was exclusively for capture. Long ranged weapons risk a kill at high altitudes. But if this thing swung by close enough, sliced you opened, all they'd have to do is wait for you to fall.
But his nemesis was Doctor Doofenshmirtz, he was nothing more than a particularly skilled pawn in a lesser sanction of the Secret Services for the World.
As he fell into bleary darkness, Agent P had to wonder. Who would want him alive, and why?
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Pain woke him.
Absolute, soul tearing, blinding, burning pain.
Something held him down, everything held him down. There had been some half assed attempt to numb him, but he could only tell because rather than just the consuming pain of an open wound, he could fell bits and pieces of him scraped away and opened up as figures above him poked and prodded at his tender innards. He jerked upwards, but was held down at every angle.
He wanted to twist his head, but it was strapped down, holding the long, animal gas mask on his beak. Whatever had strapped him down was loose enough for him to tell that something or things was drilled deep into his skull, holding him in place, pressing at his temples, into bone.
"Good Morning Agent P."
A blurry shape of a woman blocked the bright surgical lights. She sounded entirely too chipper.
FocusFocusFocusFocus
"I trust you had a good sleep."
FocusFocusFocusFocusFOCUS!
Something hard, unforgiving, sharp prodded something giving and soft inside of him.
"You had us worried there for a while."
Focus Perry! Ignore the pain and FOCUS!
The shape lost some of its blur. She was a mass of white. White mask, white surgical gown, white cap.
"Without your hat you were hard to identify. We were almost convinced that we'd made a mistake, but this little baby proved different."
Something large and metallic clunked in the background as she patted it, and whatever was attached to his head stressed the bone as it swayed. In the shadow of the lights, he couldn't get the color of her eyes. What little hair showed under the hat was dark, but indiscriminately colored.
FocusFocusFocusFocus
He couldn't see, but horribly, nauseatingly, he realized that what one of the men above him was repining next to his hip was a flap of skin, held taut by said pin. Skin that belonged attached to his pelvis.
"Don't die yet, this is important. Even if you can't say a word your body will tell us so much. Isn't that wonderful Agent P?"
He was being dissected like some darn lab experiment!
"Hello, can you hear me Agent P?"
Something sliced into his arm, a burning trail of fire that bled and bled and bled. He felt the skin peel back, heard the slick sucking sound of it, felt the fire.
"Oh for goodness sakes, just put him back under, that sound is piercing my ears!"
Somewhere in the distance, Perry heard another Platypus scream. It was a desperate, hurt scream, the kind of scream a wounded wild one makes when it breaks a limb in a trap, the kind of scream a blind platypup makes when it calls for its dame's milk. Loud, raw, wounded. The kind of scream that wears at the throat and exhausts the body.
He couldn't scream anymore.
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It gets better trust me, I promise people.
And yeah, I know, I'm horrible at action scenes. I'm much better at introspection, and there will be lots of that soon.