CHAPTER TWENTY: Yooo so I feel super attractive today? Anywho, I'm not going to post for a couple of days because I really want to get ahead a few more chapters. I just finished writing chapter 25, but I want to make sure I have something to upload for you guys.

Chronofall: Ferb and Buford are my absolute favorite characters (which you already knew if you've read even a few of my stories). They just aren't given much of a background and I love coming up with one.

Brainless Genius: Ah, but I can do that. And if you got mad over Monogram, you'll HATE me later on.

ThatRandomGuy99: I'm excited for you guys to read that part, because I freaking LOVE it.

Phinbella56: It's all good, happens to the best of us! And I adore sign language.

LizzieFlynn200: It's only up to episode 11, Not What He Seems. The next episode doesn't come out until sometime this summer. Until then, you can check my Tumblr for wonderful fan art, theories, and updates. I also have two stories about the aftermath, Wings of Forgiveness and Scout's Honor.

Ahhhhh be prepared for more character surprises! This chapter jumps around a bit but there aren't any real warnings. I don't own Phineas and Ferb.

GENERAL POV

Django Brown sighed and slumped against the prison wall, drawing aimlessly in the dust and dirt that was clouded on the platform he had been forced to sleep on. His finger scratched out shapes of the sun and trees and grass and friends; friends that he wasn't even sure were alive anymore.

The faces that were scribbled out the most often were Jenny's and his father's, and Django shoved back the lump that was building in his throat. He glanced away from the drawings, biting down on his lip to keep the tears from spilling. The invaders didn't like it when prisoners cried, and he had already been punished once.

Django raised cold fingers to the single lash that was across his cheek and he sighed, looking down at his lap. Against his will, his memory flashed across his eyes.

His father hearing pounding on the door, rushing to open it only to be gunned down in front of the eyes of his children. Jenny immediately pushing Django behind her defensively, and the armed attackers storming into their house. Django getting ripped away from his sister by two of the invaders, and Jenny lunging for him only to be dealt one single shot to the forehead. Her falling to the floor and Django screaming, crying, unable to do anything in the grip of the two people holding him.

The young artist shuddered and shook his head briskly, rubbing his arms and blinking back tears furiously. A soft whisper came from the stall to the left and the teenager in there looked at Django sympathetically. "You doing okay, man?'

Django didn't really know him. He was Candace's friend's boyfriend, and had introduced himself as Coltrane. They didn't know each other, not really, but they bonded over their similarity in friends, and Coltrane had turned out to be a good guy.

The boy nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah. Just…yeah. Did you hear anything?"

Coltrane sighed and shook his head, running a hand through his dark chocolate hair. "No," he muttered in annoyance.

For some bizarre reason, the guys that Django knew were on the ship, himself included, worked at night time. Coltrane had the theory that it was because there were girls aboard who the kidnappers (Coltrane had deduced that they were aliens based on technology and the fact that they were on, you know, a spaceship) didn't want them interacting with. For the last two nights, the boys had been trying to catch any sign of possible women on board, but they had been disappointed so far.

Coltrane glanced over at the cell across the aisle, raising an eyebrow at the man in it. "Sir, did you see anything?" he asked softly, checking to make sure no other guards were around.

Mayor Roger Doofenshmirtz sighed, rubbing his right hand over his chin. "Son, how many times have I told you to call me Roger? And I did hear a rumor today that there was a prisoner dragged on board who was being uncooperative. They called her a "she," so your theory seems to be correct."

Django frowned. "Do you know who it was?"

Roger shrugged. He had been among the first kidnapped, as the Danville mayor, so he had been in the cell longer than the other boys. "They just said she was feisty, that they would have to torture her to make her talk. I feel for the poor girl. I guess they got ambushed by her and three other boys while they were grabbing a Fireside Girl."

Django's eyes narrowed. That sounded suspiciously like something Isabella would do, but he couldn't see her being violent. Then again, he didn't know her quite as well as he would like to believe. "Anything else?"

Roger shook his head slowly. "Not that I can recall…they just said that because of her height, it would leave more room to work with. Then they noticed me there, and shut up."

"Height?" Django said, glancing at Coltrane slowly. The teen also was thinking, and he frowned.

"Height," Coltrane confirmed. "I know we're both thinking Candace…I mean, she can be very stubborn, and protecting these "guys," who I assume were probably her brothers and maybe Jeremy, is exactly something she would do."

"But why would they be torturing her instead of forcing her to work?" Django asked softly, running his finger down the cut on his cheek again.

Roger shook his head. "Same reason they did with me," he muttered, gesturing to his badly burned and lacerated left side. "They're looking for "the smartest people in Danville." Something about them being superior."

Django groaned and banged his forehead against the wall, grimacing slightly. "That's Phineas and Ferb, all right," he grumbled. "And Candace wouldn't give them up for anything."

Isabella bolted upright, nearly smacking Buford in the face, and gasped. "What time is it?" the girl hissed.

Buford groaned and rubbed an eye while glancing down at his watch. "Uhhh….8-ish. Why?"

Isabella turned to him, her damaged eyes sparkling for the first time since the explosion. "What if we just used the photo transporter to get Candace back?"

Buford frowned slowly. "I…the thought is there, Isabella, but what if…? I mean, what if they killed her? If the transporter couldn't completely fix Dinner bell's leg, I doubt it could bring someone back to life."

Isabella slumped and sighed, burying her head in her hands. "Dammit," she muttered.

"It was a good plan," Buford offered with a weak smile.

"Way to sleep through your shift," Stacy joked softly, walking up with Vanessa at her side. "Dr. D woke us up at 6 to take over for him."

Isabella winced. "You mean he was up all night? Again?"

Vanessa sighed and rubbed her forehead, glancing over at her father nervously. "Yeah. I'm worried about him. He's under a lot of pressure right now. He feels responsible for all of us, except maybe Perry and Pinky."

"Thought your dad was evil?" Buford grunted. "That's what he said when I worked for him."

The small group of girls stared at him for a long moment, jaws hanging slightly, and Buford blinked. "What? I never told you that?"

"Uh, no," Isabella spat out, "you forgot to mention that you worked for an evil scientist!"

Stacy and Vanessa glanced at one another and then back at Buford. "Did you know Perry fought him?" Stacy asked in slight concern.

Buford waved a hand. "Nah. I left before anything happened. Knowing Perry, he probably saw me an' hid until I was gone."

"That is something he would do," Vanessa admitted.

Isabella sighed. "I wish we knew what to do," she mumbled. "I mean, everyone in Danville is either dead or in hiding, and until we're gone the aliens won't stop. But none of our technology is strong enough to beat them because none of us has ever made anything together. And even if we wanted to now, we couldn't because Baljeet and Candace aren't around."

Vanessa frowned slowly. "Have you guys discussed going back in time? I know Ferb mentioned something about that to me."

Buford shrugged. "Yeah, but we still couldn't stop anything. We don't know when the aliens showed up, which direction they came from, and some other stuff. And the longer we take to figure it out, the more likely it is for the rest of us to die and give this town no chance of surviving."

The Goth grunted in frustration and sat down next to Buford with a thump. "Well, I'm tired of just sitting here," the girl muttered. "We need to do something, and Ferb and Phineas are exhausted. So's my dad."

Stacy shrugged slowly. "I'm not. You're not. What if we do something?"

Buford tilted his head. "Like what?"

Stacy stammered for a moment, trying to protest that she hadn't meant him in the "we," but he held up his hand. "Hey. I'm perfectly rested."

Isabella sighed and glanced away, knowing that they wouldn't include her in the group even if she asked because of her eyesight. Buford seemed to notice and he rubbed her back soothingly as Vanessa spoke.

"Okay, so obviously going into the streets is a bad idea. But…what if we do a quick search of OWCA headquarters?"

Buford frowned. "Also not a good idea, according to Carl. He showed up some time last night, said that there were invaders raiding the headquarters. Said that um….he was forced to shoot Major what's-his-name."

Vanessa flinched. "Monogram? Damn, Monty's going to be a wreck when he hears about that."

"What about the underground lairs?" Stacy suggested, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I mean, there's got to be tunnels connecting all of them."

"There are. But you're not going anywhere without us."

The small group turned to find Perry and Pinky standing behind them, arms crossed and eyes stern, but smiles twitching on their faces. Each tilted their hat to the group in front of them, and then Perry gestured towards a door, far off to the side that no one had dared to open.

"Shall we?"

Charlotte glanced around quickly and shoved a small baggie filled with sewing needles deep into her pants pocket, looking over at Lacie as the girl swiftly shoved a pair of scissors down her shirt, as carefully as she possibly could.

The other women had caught on almost immediately to what the girls were doing and, rather than calling them out, had begun hiding things on their person too, sewing needles sliding underneath hair ties and bra straps and scissors slipping into sports bras and boots. Links of rope and fabric (only a few, so as not to arouse suspicion) were carefully slipped under skirts and shirts, and the clothing was then adjusted in such a way that the objects were hidden.

By the end of the work day, at about 9 pm on the third day, no one in the room was clean of a hidden object. As they were getting ready to leave, Mandy noticed that the guards were setting up the sewing machines again instead of packing them away. That gave her an idea.

Moving quickly, she grabbed a fabric marker and the smallest scrap she could find and she scribbled rapidly, head darting between the cloth and the guards, oblivious to her actions.

Throwing the marker to the bin and setting the fabric piece face down just underneath a sewing machine that was already loaded and that she hoped the guards wouldn't look at, she scurried to get in line with the women heading back to her cellblock, fingers crossed.

Django sighed and slumped down in front of his sewing machine at exactly 9:05 pm, poking at the needle with irritation. He had already known how to sew, being incredibly crafty, but many of the boys and teens in the room hadn't, so they all looked to him and a few others for help in understanding what to do during the last three days. That had gotten a lot of them whipped, but it was better than not doing anything at all and getting a worse punishment.

The teenager next to him had just begun sewing when he glanced down and frowned, reaching forward and tugging a scrap out from under the machine. Django glanced over at the teen (he had no idea who he was) and blinked, his eyes swiveling to the bottom of the cloth. Glancing around for guards, his fingers darted out and he latched onto the fabric, shushing the teen before he could even say anything.

"Look!" he hissed softly, showing the teen the writing on the back. The boy fell silent and the two read the words together quietly.

To whoever finds this: my name's Mandy. There are girls here too, all ages from 5 to somewhere around the 60's. If you guys do find this, listen carefully: the girls are planning a prison bust. I and Candace Flynn, for anyone who may know her, are in charge on the girl's side. We don't know who all is on your side. Steal anything small you can; scissors, needles, rope, pieces of fabric. Any men working in the packing area need to try and smuggle out the silent explosives. We'll keep you as posted as we can; every night, everyone check under their machine for a scrap like this. We'll try to leave notes as often as possible, and will let you know when we plan to try something. Good luck.

The note was scribbled hastily, but when Django read Candace's name he nearly jumped for joy. As nonchalantly as possible, he slid the scrap to Coltrane under the table, immediately going back to his own work.

The scrap was passed around the room and it wasn't long before Django noticed men slipping scissors into their cargo pockets or needles into their shirt pockets. The youngest were given the most, if only because they were looked over the least. Django himself managed to tuck several strips of fabric into his pants pocket, and he took out another scrap and scribbled a return note on it, taking the original (which had made its way back to him) and stuffing it down his shirt.

By the end of their shift, the guys were loaded down with things and a few of the teens, who had run into some of the men working in the other part of the ship during a bathroom break, had passed along the message and Django assumed the others were also gathering things.

They all shuffled back to their cells quietly and the second they were left alone everyone began stashing their things into nooks and crannies in the wall, under the ratty blankets they had been given, tucking small things like needles into the crevices of the dirty floor and smearing them with dust.

When activity finally settled down, Coltrane and Django settled down next to each other in the cells, each of them silent for a moment. "So it was Candace," Django murmured.

Coltrane nodded. "Yeah….it was."

Django glanced up, a small smile on his face. "Maybe there is some hope. She's pretty unpredictable, after all."

Yes. Django and Roger and Coltrane. Heh heh heh. What in the world am I planning? You'll find out!

Also, if you didn't understand why they couldn't just go back in time, it will be explained again in later chapters but if you want to PM me, I can give you a more detailed explanation.

Reviews?