Stan realized, as he helped load the -inator onto a hovercraft, that this was his first time really being outside since he'd arrived.
Curiously he peeked over the edge of the balcony, wondering if anyone else around here had hovercrafts, or if there'd be flying cars or electric sheep. After all, this was the 21st century; as far as he knew, anything was possible.
However, once he got over his dizziness at realizing how high up they were, a lot of it looked pretty much the same as the world he'd left: people walking or driving around in perfectly normal (maybe a bit different-shaped) cars, lots of buildings (taller than he'd ever seen in real life, but still pretty normal-looking) standing around, and not a single android in sight.
Stan was faintly disappointed, and had to soothe himself with the reminder that at least he was sleeping on the couch of a guy who lived up to his expectations for future technology.
...So this is Dr. D's kid, he thought, glancing at Vanessa again as they climbed onto the hovercraft (which creaked a little bit, making him worry about whether it could hold their combined weight in addition to the -inator). Guess she got more of her mother's genes.
Immediately he felt a little bad for the thought, and pushed it away in exchange for a closer examination of his boss's (?) daughter.
He could already tell that she didn't like him much. The least subtle hint had been the way she glared at him earlier, but even without it there were a few very large dots he was able to connect. He'd seen the way she'd looked at his and Dr. D's signatures, and if you combined that with the fact that she was a kid whose parents were in the process of a divorce, and it had been a while since she'd actually been able to see her dad...
Stan found himself wondering if she'd really come here with her mom's permission. And a little part of him wondered if it wasn't too late to back out and let this be just a dad-daughter thing...except he really wanted to be there when West Coast Tech got blown up.
He wanted that a really, really scary amount.
Before he could think about it for too long, though, Dr. D announced, "And here...we...go!" and pushed a sequence that had the hovercraft rising slowly into the air, wobbling slightly as it went.
Aw, crap. Crap, crap, crap on a STICK (along with several less printable phrases)!
Stan immediately felt stupid (in addition to his sudden paralyzing terror) for not consciously realizing that this thing was going to be in the air, because it was a flying machine, and they were really really high up now and surrounded by empty air with nothing to catch them-not even a stupid handrail-if they fell or the hovercraft broke apart or-
"...ley? Hey Stanley, are you okay?"
A warm hand was on his shoulder, and Stan blinked a few times until the gray had cleared away from the edges of his vision, which settled on the worried face of Dr. D.
"You look a little pale, you doing okay?"
Weakly Stan nodded, and tugged the lapels of his lab coat before swallowing. "Y-y-yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine."
"You sure? You look like you might have a touch of acrophobia."
"...Nah, you kidding? I love the circus. Except the clowns, they're not as funny as people think they are."
Dr. D snorted a little. "No, no, acrophobia means you have a fear of heights."
"I do not!" Immediately his fists clenched into tight little circles, and despite himself he began bristling like he was ready for a fight.
The hand on his shoulder just rubbed a small circle into it, and for once the doc's usual obliviousness was conspicuously absent as he continued staring at him with a weird look that was somewhere between sad and searching. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Stanley."
No kid of mine's gonna be a sissy who's afraid of heights! You're gonna get over it, starting today!
But I can't-
No buts except yours up that ladder! Now get moving, boy!
His expression must have given away his thoughts somewhat, because Dr. D went on insistently. "Lots of people are afraid of heights in some way or other! Heck, I'm afraid of jumping off the high dive because of a traumatic experience in my childhood! It-it probably doesn't make you less of a person, if a lot of people have the same problem!"
And then the strangest thing happened, in a day-heck, a week-that had already had a plethora of strange things happen.
Dr. D snapped his fingers, and suddenly a group of women in brightly colored costumes appeared on the balcony as he slowly lowered the hovercraft back down; and then, without a word of explanation, he began to sing an entire song about the meanings of different phobias, with a focus on acrophobia, and listing famous people who had had these phobias and how it was therefore probably nothing to be ashamed of, while the women sang along in a chorus.
Stan glanced out of the corner of his eye at Vanessa, who was leaning against the -inator with a somewhat bored expression.
"What the heck-how-where did they come from?!" he half-whispered, pointing to the backup dancers.
Vanessa shrugged, somewhat moodily. "This happens a lot around my dad-in Danville in general, but I see it mostly happening around my dad. You get used to it after a while."
As he turned back around and watched the performance...Stan couldn't help thinking that it was a shame Ford wasn't here. He could've wormed years of weirdness studying just by following around Dr. D.
...And then his stomach squirmed with discomfort, because he was thinking about Ford again, and how he was about Dr. D's age by now. Did that even make him his twin anymore? I mean, he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested in being twins anymore, so that kind of meant they already weren't-
"Big finish, ladies!"
Dr. D and his backup singers formed a chorus line, and did a big dramatic reprise as they kicked in tandem. When they finished, they all posed, while actual honest-to-Moses fireworks burst in the air behind them.
Unsure what else to do, Stan clapped awkwardly.
Despite himself, Stan actually felt a little reassured-more by Dr. D's words from earlier than the actual musical number, which had just kind of weirded him out. If nothing else, though, having someone tell him it was okay to be scared made it easier for him to rein in his nausea as they climbed back onboard the hovercraft, reassuring Dr. D that he'd be fine with more sincerity this time, and just closed his eyes and held onto the side of the -inator until he heard the familiar screechy voice say, "Okay, we're here!"
Huh. That took less time than I thought. Either Danville's really close to California or the hovercraft moves really fast-no no no, don't think about it moving really fast while it's high in the air-
Gingerly he opened his eyes, and his stomach lurched when he saw how high up they were, but it settled slightly as they began moving closer to the massive cluster of buildings below.
West Coast Tech looked just as big and stuck-up as he'd imagined it would be.
"Now, since you're already holding onto the -inator, Stan, how about you start it up and turn on the teleporter that'll move all the people first?"
"Sure, no problem." Stan forced his whitened knuckles to release their grip, and gingerly moved around to the part that turned it on, trying not to cringe at how much the hoverboard felt like it was wobbling under his feet.
Vanessa snorted, and paced (somewhat more clumsily than she probably thought she was) across the other end. "I'm not afraid of heights."
"Really happy for ya, kid," Stan muttered.
She scowled at him, and leaned on the steering thingy next to her dad.
Inwardly, Stan couldn't help rolling his eyes.
Can't believe a ten-year-old's tryna get competitive with me for her dad's attention. Is this what it's like having a little sister?
...Not that it's like she's my sister or anything, that'd be weird. On several different levels-
Agent P!
Without warning a familiar blue-green figure with a jetpack landed on the hovercraft, which rocked precariously back and forth and nearly sent Stan into premature cardiac arrest.
Dr. D didn't look at all surprised. "Well, it's about time, Perry the Platypus! I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't be able to get you to fall into my trap!"
He pushed a button, and seconds later a freakin' laser cage had surrounded the platypus.
"Ha ha! Looks like you've finally seen the light, Perry the Platypus!" Dr. D grinned gleefully-and then hesitated, rubbing his chin. "Does that work as a pun? I feel like it does, cuz, you know, lasers are technically made of light, but at the same time it feels like I could've thought of something more clever."
...Now Stan was really confused.
From what he'd seen of Perry and Dr. D's interactions, more than anything he'd assumed they were, you know, friends. And usually friends didn't trap each other in cages unless they were playing a game or something.
"What is going on?" he hissed at Vanessa.
She rolled her eyes. "It's this thing they do every time Dad builds one of these things: Perry the Platypus shows up to stop him, he traps him and tells him all about his evil plan, he breaks loose and they fight, and he hits the self-destruct button or breaks it or in some other way stops him, and then flies off while Dad yells-" she did an imitation of her dad's voice while shaking a dramatic fist- "'Curse you, Perry the Platypus!'" She lowered her arm. "And then we get snacks or something."
"...And he just does that, over and over, every day."
"Pretty much. It started earlier this summer, when he first decided he was an evil scientist." Vanessa shrugged. "I guess it's his thing."
Stan glanced at Dr. D, who was in the middle of what sounded like his speech about why they were blowing up West Coast Tech, and then at Perry the Platypus, who had pulled out a mirror from somewhere, and was about to use it to change the trajectory of one of the lasers. Then he looked back at the machine that he'd worked so hard on, and which he was so desperate to use in the hopes of filling up that hole inside, at least a little.
"Well, forget that!"
He slammed a fist down on the button that would teleport everyone off the campus, and then, barely hearing the startled chittering from behind him, he took aim at one of the main buildings, and fired.
Were I better at writing song lyrics, I would've actually tried to come up with a song for Doof to sing about phobias. Unfortunately, I am not Dan Povenmire or "Swampy" Marsh, nor do I have contact with them, so I'm just going to leave it to the imagination.
Anyone who can come up with ideas for it can, I dunno, make a scene request or something, within reason.