The Full Force of Time
Cezille07
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Pricat for inspiring some preliminary ideas for this, as well as confirming its 'originality'. ;)
Disclaimer: Since when have people who were labelled "too young" ever stopped trying to do the things they love to do? Well, since copyright, that's when. Okay? "Phineas and Ferb" is NOT mine. ;D
Chapter 1. Hard-Burned Routine.
Perry noted the kitchen clock read a little blurry. He had to squint to check the time properly. There was the computer watch—but not around the boys. Any minute now, the call would arrive. It would be none other than Major Monogram to announce another of Doofenshmirtz's incompetent attempts at conquering the Tri-state Area, if not to eradicate some silly whim his childhood bestowed. Perry sighed, rolling his unfocused eyes in the process. Phineas and Ferb were about to launch headlong into the dreary high school routines; not that it was a bad thing. It actually made running into his lair a little safer, less complicated. Once they were gone the house became what was less of a home—empty. The Doof would be the only action he'd witness in hours. Then again, knowing the doctor, the encounters couldn't even be considered "action" at all...
All of these, of course, are hard-burned routine.
"Ferb, I know what we're gonna do today!" announced Phineas from the backyard. Perry sensed Ferb got up and followed his brother into the garage to begin work on their project. The platypus remained, under Lawrence's spot on the dining table, immobile except for the tiniest grin on his bill at the thought, They'll never outgrow this habit...
Beep.
There it was: the call. Peering over the table top on two legs now, he saw the coast was clear. This time, Carl had some new rookie install an entrance through the dish rack, which entailed a dish must be broken with the exact amount of force Perry had used as a sample in the lab. Linda wouldn't be happy with the mess, although she'll soon realize her dining-ware is complete and accounted for, and the fragments of china littered all over the floor was the fault of no one in her family. Perry found that decoy plate to break; standing before the sensor, he smashed it into oblivion. The sensor light blinked green, and the fedora-topped mammal hopped right down the chute that was revealed from under fake, mimicking tiles.
Midway, he thought he heard a distant male voice asking, "Hey, where's Perry?"
"Agent P, a very good morning," Mongram said, more cheerily than Perry had expected. "You're probably wondering what the reason is for the jovial attitude. Well, I won't beat around the bush anymore. We've studied Dr. Doofenshmirtz for years, since we've had you in our agency. And for once, Carl and I have come to a conclusion regarding his evil ways."
Well, good.
"Guess what? It's your fault!"
W-what—?
"No no no, I meant, it seems that, aside from the backstories you've painstakingly listened to, the cause of his actions are also his own self-esteem: he wants to see himself as important because top-caliber agents like you are hunting and trying to bring him down."
Of course. I see him more often than his own daughter does. Ha, funny that his esteem should rely on me. But of course I knew that already...
"Well, that's it for the good news. Now on to serious matters," continued the major, "Now that we know his weakness..."
"Nooooooo sir!" yelled Carl from off the camera shot.
"Shut up, Carl! You're ruining this moment!" snapped Monogram. He sighed. "Now since this is the case, we have just to give you one final assignment, Agent P."
Perry was ready. One final beat-up? Excellent. He'd be home in time for lunch—
"The forms I'm faxing you right now, just fill them up and we're all done."
Perry waited while the printer integrated into the mesh of buttons and controls before him spewed out neat papers with an ominous-looking title.
Sir... Perry blinked. Resignation forms...?
He's a semi-aquatic, egg-laying mammal of action!
He's a furry little flatfoot who'll never flinch from the fray!
Ding!
"Huh?" Doofenshmirtz banged the top of his CD player, and Perry's theme song jumped into a different stanza before completely stopping. "The doorbell? What is it now? Maybe Perry the platypus finally heard me out on not breaking too many windows..."
He got up, retrieving his lab coat hanging from a nearby chair, and shuffled to the front door.
"What's this?"
There was a gift-wrapped box sitting on the rug outside the door. There was no sign of the mailman. "Who could have left this?"
He inspected the box quickly, observing it from different angles; it was small, barely large enough to contain a bag of chips or the magazine bundle he ordered from the Evil Society. But as for a note or any hint of its sender, the box gave no clue.
Heinz closed the door warily. "I'm not letting my guard down, Perry the platypus; I know you're clever and all, but I learn too!"
But a long minute elapsed. His nemesis was surprisingly absent. He returned to the recliner and dumped the package by his feet. "I guess it's his day off. Well good. I can go straight into my plan for the day," he said, addressing the box. "What am I going to do today? Well it's a grand scheme, for today I will infiltrate the OWCA headquarters and expose Monogram and his freak agents. Of course, without Perry, that will be an easy task," he trailed off, then frowned. "But that means I can't use my Trackerinator to find Perry's hideout and the headquarters. Argh, what kind of plan is this?"
He stood up. "Hmph, well I can...go driving around the suburbs, yes, to find some inspiration. What other things did my father do to me? I must do something, something evil—but what?"
His gaze turned to his silent audience, the box. "Or fine, I can open you."
The plain blue-green paper wrapping and the silver ribbon, he threw behind him in a flurry of restless excitement. The motion, however, quickly decelerated to a full, open-mouthed stop when he beheld a very particular brown hat. A brown hat with a black stripe, a striking reminder of the very animal who always wore it on business visits to him.
Heinz dropped the item; his hands had gone numb at the touch of the textile object. A piece of paper fluttered free from inside the fedora. He moved rigidly to catch it. The writing was small and neat, an expert script by a hand of practiced finesse.
Goodbye. –P
Doofenshmirtz's eyes instantly watered. He picked up the hat and realized how tiny it was, and yet it fit perfectly on Perry's head. Perry! What did this mean—goodbye?
He rigorously shook his head. How many things had been forcibly taken away from him? His childhood? His girlfriends? His pride? And now the only creature who ever even listened to his ramblings about his cruel past?
Perry almost crashed into a tree in the Danville park; his left hand lost grip of the hang glider. Of all the days for his trusty hover car to run out of gas! Naturally he couldn't have stopped by a regular gas station for fuel. It's for things like these he was thankful the OWCA took care of everything. From acquiring new intel on Doof, to cleaning up his lair, to repairing his regularly holed and tattered costume, the trademark agent hat, his fedora. That included free gas every now and then, but he supposed Carl was busy taking care of his papers to remember...
Hanging from a tree, he swung gracefully into the air, perfected a double backward flip, and landed on two feet. No one was looking. Good. He assumed the platypus façade and began the short trudge back to Maple Street.
The park was a stretch of grass and proud trees haphazardly planted here and there. The oaks towered, but not high enough, not so clumped together enough, to mask the tall edifice he had just left, Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated.
He felt compelled to admit that Monogram was right, the way he was right about everything. Even concerning non-business trivia, like that vase Doofenshmirtz planned to give him for Christmas some years ago. No one can refute the reason he headed the OWCA, and it had been that way for a long time. A very long time. And yet for the same reason, the weak platypus heart inside him turned bitterly to think the major was being overly considerate for once.
He was right. Perry was the best agent they had, but Perry was also just a platypus. How often did platypuses survive outside their natural habitat, much less survive being shipped overseas to become some zoo's public spectacle? How often did platypuses even confront evil face to face on a daily basis?
He was right. Perry had been in service to the agency before he turned a year old. That meant he had been agent for most of his life, ever since the Flynn-Fletcher family took him into their care—not knowing a major had secretly bypassed international laws on platypus domestication.
Monogram was right.
He was always right.
So when he says, no matter how apologetically, that Perry was just getting old, that was the final word.
A/N: Okay, first chapter done! What do you think? Please leave a review before you close this tab/window. ;D