He was running as fast as he could through the forest, occasionally checking to see if his chasers were still in pursuit. His limbs were aching and his breaths were coming in ragged gasps but what fuelled his energy was the fact that if he was caught, he would be severely beaten, or worse…executed. He had seen Kirk do it before.
Not spotting a tree stump in his way, he tripped over it and went tumbling down a hill. He tucked all his limbs in to protect them but he still felt fresh pain coming from the scar on his left bicep. When he hit a pile of leaves at the bottom, he quickly buried himself in the leaves to give himself some time to rest. He checked his scar. The ten-centimetre-long, two-year-old scar was oozing blood, so he quickly pressed a dry leaf against it and wiped it as best he could.
Having had just two minutes to rest, he quickly scrambled up again and continued running. The forest seemed denser than it did before; perhaps that was because he was in an unfamiliar part. He had spent a good few months over his whole life—five years—exploring these woods, but naturally he couldn't have explored every single nook and cranny; most of his time had been spent on tasks and anyway Donald hadn't allowed any Taskers to stray farther than one mile from the base.
Two gunshots behind him made him flinch but he kept running, having not quite achieved his top speed. He pushed his muscles a little harder as three more gunshots exploded through the air. There it was: maximum speed. But the question floating through his mind was…was it enough?
A distant yell of, "This way!" made him squeak in terror and accidentally trip over into a tree. Dazed, he got up again and resumed running, but his movements were more sluggish this time. He was convinced that he was going to die…
When he saw a figure standing in his way. He skidded to a halt, chest heaving. The boy looked only about ten years old. He had brown hair and wore a grey hoodie and grey tracksuit trousers. He approached the teal platypus, who began to shake in terror, until the boy gently picked him up and began to stroke him. "It's okay," the little boy said comfortingly. "You're safe now. I'm going to take you to Daddy."
The platypus didn't have enough energy to struggle so he lay limply in the boy's arms as the boy carried him away. He only had enough strength to realise that the boy was taking him in a direction perpendicular to the way he had been going. He thought that perhaps this would confuse the people looking for him.
The boy came out into the open. The platypus looked around through tired eyes and saw a large block building in front of him. The boy seemed to be carrying him towards an adult man. Since the platypus didn't recognise the man, he reasoned that this man should not want to harm him.
The boy patted the man on the back. "Daddy, I found a duck!"
The man turned round and stared at the platypus. "Where did you find this?"
"In the forest!" the boy proclaimed proudly.
"Monty, your mother and I have told you hundreds of times not to go into the forest!" the man scolded.
"But Daddy, the duck was in trouble!" protested Monty.
"It's a platypus, son," the man corrected. "And what do you mean by in trouble?"
"Some bad people were chasing the plat-ee-puss," Monty said, sounding out the word. "I saved him."
The man gently took the platypus from Monty and looked down at him. He fished around in his back pocket and picked out a small device, which he gently fit into the platypus's mouth. No sooner had he done that than the platypus felt something change.
"What is that?" he asked aloud.
"That is a translator," the man replied. "It allows us to communicate. Now, do you have a name?"
"I…" The platypus hesitated, wondering if he should give his name. He realised that he would probably never be going back there so he said, "Perry. My name is Perry."
"Hello, Perry. My name is Major Francis Monogram, leader of the Organisation Without a Cool Acronym."
"That's a long name," Perry said, his dizzy brain not realising that there were actually two names in what Major Monogram said.
"So how old are you, Perry?"
"Five," yawned Perry. "I'm five."
"I'm ten!" Monty stated happily.
"Do you live in the forest?" Major Monogram asked.
Perry nodded sleepily, before he realised again that now he had no home, and he shook his head. "I used to, but I was driven out."
Major Monogram frowned. "I will want to know details about that, but I can tell you're very tired now so I'll take you inside. We'll train you to be an OWCA agent and then we can put you up for adoption, okay?"
"Okay," mumbled Perry, already half asleep.
…
Aww, cute little Perry! Who was he running from and why was he "driven out"? All answers revealed in this story :)
Oh, by the way, platypus years = human years x2. Example, Perry is five years old in platypus years but has the mentality of a ten year old human.
