His heart pounded in his ears, atophied muscles ached. If he never ran again, it'd be too soon. Foot steps following him echoed in the spillway. "How'd I manage to get here?" He thought. He meant into the dam's spillway, since it was supposed to be guarded and locked, not the situation. He knew how he got into this situation.
He reached the edge of the spillway. End of the road. Nothing but a hundred feet of nothing to coushin a fall. He turned back the way he came, with the intention to find another way out. But it was too late. The panda and the chihuahua blocked his path and advanced on him. He stepped backwards, onto a conveniently placed pebble which created a grinding sound effect. He looked back and down, then back at his persuers, then down again and, in an amazingly stupid move, jumped. It wasn't the way he wanted to go, but at the moment, he'd few options.
The panda and chihuahua looked where the boy had fallen. They couldn't locate their mark, which wasn't necessarily good news for him, but it was ambiguous enough to call out the search and splatter team. On a wristwatch, a moustachioed man said, "Well, that's one way to fix a glaring security error."
There were many things Irving didn't tell his idols. He didn't tell them about his extensive network of spy cameras. He didn't tell them he spent all his mornings on the Phineas & Ferb Wiki. He didn't tell them he'd made a Phineas & Ferb Wiki, let alone that it existed. He didn't tell them their pet was a secret agent, but unlike the others, it was mainly because he thought they knew already, and it didn't bear mentioning.
Why interfere, really? Their adventures were quality entertainment, almost like a great show, with a new episode every day. He'd just ruin things, he knew, which didn't stop him. This was years, of course, before the restraining order, and his idols didn't seem to mind. If they did, he didn't notice. Maybe they were too polite to say. Who knew?
Hard drives filled up, not just with the activities of the two greatest minds of their generation, but the activities of practically everyone in the entire Tri-State Area. He rarely looked at the footage, but couldn't bring himself to delete it, reasoning that something awesome might be hidden in the weeks of unseen digital video. When he was a bit older, he'd be proven right, but even before puberty, there was quite a lot of excellent footage of really cool action movie stuff.
Phineas and Ferb had gone on a road trip with their family, and that footage wouldn't be back for a week. So, with little to do, and less motivation to do more, Irving scoured hours of footage, six videos at a time, people working, talking, eating, sleeping, wrestling, for the most part. Adults sure did wrestle a lot. Irving wondered about that.
Oooh, Perry fighting that pharmacist! He thought aloud. He thought he should pay more attention to that monotreme. He'd seen him in action a couple of times. That Phineas and Ferb didn't spend all their time helping Perry seemed weird. He started focusing on those videos from the D.E.I. building. That seemed to be where this pharmacist guy showed up the most. After hours of watching the coolest parts of this guy's life, it started to seem like the pharmacist and Perry were married. They did wrestle an awful lot. Maybe that was it. After all, platypodes didn't just fight pharmacists for no reason. If that were the case, Australia would have let someone know. Seems like they'd have said something about playtpodes being capable of preforming martial arts, too.
A platypus? How does that even make sense? Aren't there laws that should keep platypodes out of the country anyway? Maybe the Flynn-Fletchers had connections. In that case all that sucking up would actually pay off. No, he decided, he'd've noticed that in his wiretaps.
Like lightning, an idea struck. Of course Perry was a secret agent. He'd even seen him in person during that music clipshow that the writers had used to pad out the season. But maybe Perry wasn't autonomous. He hoped that he'd not emptied the recycle bin recently. Surely in the boring footage of nothing he deleted regularly, he could find clues. He knew where Perry went, but how does he get there? Though not a mathematical genius like his, er, acquaintances, he knew it'd take far too long for such a small monotreme to make it downtown and back as he seemed to do each day.
His mother interrupted his concentration. "9:30 already? Pah, impossible," he said, "The computer says it's only 21:30." But as his mother did what mothers do, he found himself in bed before, albeit, not before knowing where to look tomorrow.
Red lights and klaxon alarms glared and blared all over Agent P's lair. Perhaps, he considered, walking right into the platypus' burrow hadn't been the smart thing to do. Of course, he was in no danger of being called smart. Resourceful, reliable, creepy, but not smart.
The old man on the monitor that yelled at him had called for renforcements. Irving needed a way out, and there was a way out. He just needed to find-ah the rocket car. Was there an autopilot or something maybe-the Rocket Car scratched along the wall, knocking over decorations, blow out lights, severely undoing months of hard interning. When the button that turned on autopilot was pressed, the car decided to stop being stupid and not scrape the wall.
Animal agents had gathered below him, hiding behind anything secure looking. Whoever this guy was, he was good, a triple Jeffery before exiting the base, just to cover whatever information he'd stolen. After seeing what this guy was capable of, one of them, a panda, counted whatever fortune had blessed him with arms instead of wings.
The rocket car knew where it was going, which was good, because Irving sure didn't. This didn't stop him from jerking the steering wheel left and right and making explosion sounds with his mouth. Did this thing even have explosives? That'd be so cool, especially if- The thought was lost as an eagle screeched overhead, dive bombing the rocket car.
Irving wondered what that was, trying to find it as it attacked him again from the opposite direction. He spotted it this time, as the eagle came around for another attack Irving noticed something strange about it, against all known laws of physics, the eagle managed to fly at wonderful speeds while wearing a fedora. His musing was interrupted by the terrifying prospect of being fed to baby eagles. He ducked. That was closer than the last pass.
He noticed a strangely shaped purple building coming in low. He turned to see the eagle. Maybe he could make it. In a blur, the eagle passed, leaving behind an empty rocket car.