Chapter 1: Lost in the Cold
*BEEEP* *BEEEP* *BEEEP*. That announcer of another day older, another day wearier, came to life making its morning song at 6:05am every day.
Dr. Doofenshmurtz lazily reached over to slap the alarm clock off from the position of recovery in his one place of solitude. His bed was the one place where peace reached him for a few hours. Sleeping. He wishes he could just sleep forever, entering those dreams of a supernatural place without time, in which none of the troubles that haunt his reality are present. The sheets shrouding the harsh world from his body, protecting him like a soft shield as he escaped the world for the darkest hours of the daily cycle. However, one could argue his darkest hours began when the clock read 6:05am.
However much he wished that he could stay under his sheets, he knows he must get up. As he sits up, a wisp of air escapes his mouth and he squints his eyes because the morning air is too crisp for him to handle. The air conditioner blew a cold air into the bedroom from the ceiling vents, quickly awakening him.
Throwing off the sheets, he swung his feet off the bed and, like ripping off a band-aid, hurriedly stuck his feet on the iceberg that was his concrete floor. This was the worst part of the morning. Now his day only will get worse.
He walked across his dimly lit loft apartment towards his bathroom. His loft was probably a lot nicer 25 years ago when it was built, when it was still taken care of by a cleaning and maintenance crew. That luxury was forfeit 5 years ago when the Tri-State area came under frequent attacks during the summer of 2023 by the terrorist duo, Phineus and Ferb. Doofenshmirtz bought the entire apartment building in the middle of downtown for half of his inherited family fortune. Nobody wanted to spend their days and nights living amongst the constant barrage of plots and attacks by the terrorists. Doofenshmurtz maintained his loft apartment along with the rest of the building by himself, fixing pipes, changing electric wires, paying the electricity and water bills. He was a mechanical genius so it was easy to maintain the building.
He entered his bathroom, and as ritual, took a cold shower. He found that it stimulated his brain much faster than a warm shower. This was important for the morning's work he needed to perform. Was today going to be the day? He doubted it. Just another hot and smoggy Thursday in June. Or was it Wednesday? He didn't know anymore. The days blended together in a continuous stream like an old fashioned movie film roll that repeated the same material for all eternity with an audience that could neither leave nor close their eyes. It was just another day.
He stepped out of his bathroom, dressed in his plain tan slacks and black, turtleneck sweater, into the dreary hallway and made his way to the dimly lit kitchen. He fumbled through the cabinets and found that plain cereal he had every morning and dumped a share in a bowl he found laying in the sink. Dumping water in to soak the cereal, he sat down at the dining room table. This table only had two chairs. He looked at the empty chair. Maybe today will be the day.
Doofenshmurtz shivered. It was always cold in his apartment even though the day was becoming swelteringly hot. Wearing a turtleneck in the summer explained several things. He did not plan on going outside just like every other day and it was frigid in his lonely apartment. The building was 57 stories tall, far too large to bother to heat. He didn't mind though. It was easy enough to just put on a sweater. The cold was more fitting anyways. The majority of his building was empty. The top floor was where he spent a good amount of his time. It was also his favorite part of the building. The top floor was his laboratory filled with instruments, tools, and machines of all shapes and sizes. This was his area of creation for him to make many different gadgets and machines. However, that was not the most important part of his laboratory.
After breakfast, he got up and stuck his bowl in the sink. He would probably use that same bowl again tomorrow for the same cereal at the same time. The next part of his daily routine was by far his most precious, but also the most difficult. He slowly sauntered down the hall, walking past his bedroom until he reached the room adjacent his. Behind the door he heard the slow beeps of a heart monitor along with an oxygen machine. He nudged the door open and walked in to see her laying there. His daughter. She had been laying in that same bed hooked up to the machines for over three years, stuck in severe comatose.
Doofenshmurtz walked to his daughters bedside.
"You look beautiful today, Bug." He said as he brushed her bangs behind her ear.
It had been so long since he had seen her eyes he has almost forgotten what they look like. His mind flashbacks to a day nearly five years ago. He had just finished his work for the day, working on research for a new breaking edge energy source, and he was just getting home. He opned the door and his daughter jumped on him laughing.
"Papa, can we go to the park and look for more bugs? There is sure to be some different ones today!"
He smiled lovingly and looked at her, still in his arms. She was almost five and already knew how to use her pigtails and bright eyes to get a man to do anything for her. He was weary but he couldn't say no.
"Hurry! Run along and grab your kit and if we are lucky, we can find some new ones! Hurry, Bug!" Her eyes lit up and she jumped out of his arms and ran to her room. He smiled as he watched her fly around the corner and they left to spend the rest of the evening exploring every tree trunk and crevice where there may be some insects. It was a wonderful memory. Back to reality.
He checked all of her vitals and whether or not the serum he had been working on for two weeks had affected her. There was no signs of improvement. He stroked her cheek and turned around. His eyes began to water as he walked out and closed the door softly behind him. How much longer would she stay like this? He didn't know if she would ever wake up.
He spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon focused on trying to cure his daughter. He went from journal article to other literature about health researching, questioning, hoping that he may find some shred, some clue that would lead to a cure for his daughter. He had to undo what those terrorists had done.
He was startled out of his research by a familiar noise. This noise he dreaded more than any other. The Tri-State Area siren was cutting through the afternoon heat. Another attack was happening. It was time for the doctor to leave his most important research to serve a higher cause. He had to protect the city from Phineas and Ferb.
