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Chapter 3 – The Plan
Downstairs in the kitchen, a semi-aquatic mammal walked up to the cabinets. He looked left and right, just to make sure no one was watching. Then he reared up on his hind legs and whipped a fedora out of nowhere, slapping it on his head.
The seemingly mindless platypus that his human owners knew as Perry had now become the very personification of awesome and action known as Agent P.
And it was mission time.
He checked the cutlery drawer, making sure the passageway was clear. Content, he leaped in, the drawer closing behind him with a thud.
After a few moments twisting and turning through the tunnels, he plopped down in his secret lair, a cavernous place filled to the brim with the tools and vehicles he needed to keep the world safe. His chair creaked slightly as he landed in it, and it creaked loudly when the entire contents of the silverware drawer landed all around him.
Perry sighed (or as much as he could sigh). He would have to remind Carl to fix that particular irksome issue.
He pressed the giant red button on his control panel, and an older man with white hair and a white mustache appeared on the screen, his uniform obscured by the two bottles of wine in front of him.
"Carl!" Major Monogram yelled at his intern off-screen. "Which wine is suppose to go with meat again?"
"That depends, sir," a nasally-high voice responded. "Are you having pork, duck, lamb, beef, boar, cassoulet-?"
"I'm having meat tonight, Carl. That's the only thing that's important." The major looked up from his label reading to see his best agent looking at him, patiently drumming his fingers on the panel. "Ahh! Agent P! When did you get here? Umm..." He sheepishly lowered the bottles out of view. "I don't suppose that you know anything about wines, do you Agent P? My wife's cooking a New Year's Eve dinner, and she, for some reason, told me to get the wine."
"Sir, each wine is suppose to complement a certain dish. I did a project on it for my Fine Dining class."
"They have fine dining in college? Man, I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."
"Sir...the mission."
"Oh, right!" Major Monogram cleared his throat and donned his serious voice. "It appears that the evil Dr. Doofenshmirtz's holiday spirit could not be contained for long, Agent P. He's bought up all of the springs in the Tri-State Area. We can only imagine what sort of monstrous plot that man is going to do, but the only thing that matters is that it's evil. Or at the very least mildly irritating.
"Head to his place, Agent P, and put a stop to his plan. We were going to send you off with the rocket-propelled pogo stick..." He held up a white and blue pogo with the O.W.C.A. initials on it for emphasis. "But, you know, the whole spring stealing thing kind of killed it, so you'll have to make do with your regular transportation." He saluted his agent, who returned his gesture. "Good luck, Agent P!"
Perry backflipped into his aircar, and with a quick startup, he was off, ready to thwart his nemesis once again.
"I hope Agent P 'springs' into action quickly," Monogram said, chuckling to himself. "Although he's always had somewhat of a 'bounce' in his stop. Let's hope he 'hops' into action soon."
Carl let out a large sigh. "Major, are you done with the puns now?"
"Of course not! You have to have an ample amount of puns at every opportunity! Don't they teach you that in Pun class?"
"My college doesn't have a Pun class, Sir."
"Really? And they have a Fine Dining class? What is this world coming to?" Major Monogram raised the bottles again, contemplating which one to have that night. After a minute, he realized...
He could care less.
"Ahh, to heck with it! It's the last day of the year! It's party time!"
A trapdoor in the side of the chimney opened up, and Perry flew his aircar out of it, heading off to Doof's place once again. It wouldn't have mattered if he had gone through the garage escape, because even if he had, the redhead currently occupying it was too busy in his own plan to pay attention to anything else.
Phineas threw his mass of blueprints onto his worktable. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number, and after a couple of rings, a voice picked up on the other end.
"Mortimer's Molten Metal Menagerie, this is Mortimer speaking."
"Hello, Mr. Myers, this is Phineas Flynn."
"Hey, Phineas! How you doing today? I forgot to ask you; did that shipment of iron work out for you last week?"
"Oh yeah, that worked out great," Phineas responded, absentmindedly walking circles in the garage. "Listen, sir, I need a favor from you. I know it's the holidays, but I was wondering if you could deliver some more stuff to me."
"Of course, Phineas! You're my best customer! Anything for you! What can I do you for?"
"Well, there's actually a few things..." Phineas pulled a small strip of paper and read the list to the shop owner, who he heard scratching it down onto his notepad. After he had finished, Mort came on the line again.
"That's quite the peculiar list there, Phineas. You got something big planned?"
"It's...kind of a long story, Sir."
"Ahh! Never mind then. You can fill me in on the details later. Do you want that delivered now?"
"I do, yeah, but can you deliver it sort of...discreetly? It's going to be a surprise."
"I'll put my best man on it. Meet him in front of your house, and I'll make sure he'll be there within a half hour."
Phineas breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you very much, Sir. I really appreciate it."
He heard a chuckle come from the other end. "It's really not a problem, Phineas. I hope that she likes it."
"Wha..." Phineas was shocked. "How did you-"
"Phineas," Mort said, cutting him off, "When you get to be my age and a shop owner as long as I have and someone gives me a list like that, I know what they're doing."
The redhead said nothing, too embarrassed to even utter a response. He heard another laugh boom over the phone.
"I'm just teasing you, Phineas. I know she'll like it, because it'll be from you. I'll have Chad drive by with the things, all right?"
"That's fine, Sir. Have a good day."
"Happy New Year to you!"
Phineas ended the call, staring at the phone as if it was an alien. It wasn't quite sure what just happened, but he was going to have what he needed soon, and he had to get busy.
Although, he realized as he started on his prep work, if his cheeks were going to continue to burn any longer, they would surely catch on fire.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: And now some semblance of a plot is forming.
This is actually my first time writing a Perry/Doof plot. I originally wasn't going to even include it in the story, but I need a little bit more background stuff happening to balance out all of the Phinbella stuff later on.
Oh, I'm sorry, did I say Phinbella stuff? Tip-off. Actually, the vast majority of the Phinbella musings are going to be a couple of chapters away. I guess you'll just have to deal with Doof and plannings and other shenanigans until then. Don't worry; keep your legs and arms inside the story at all times and I'll get you through it as painless as possible.
Read and review, if you like.