Chapter 7

Danville, USA
July 5, 2049

There did not appear to be anything out of the ordinary in PJ's first glimpse of the Tri-State Area. No darkly ominous skies or ashy gray landscapes of ruined buildings, the images he would have anticipated had his mission failed and brought about some strange dystopian future. The cheerful city was exactly as he remembered it, and that confirmed he'd succeeded.

The sun was still rising in the eastern sky when he entered the Danville Museum. He easily found his way back to the room exhibiting the time machine like he'd been there yesterday—since, from his point of view, he had—and noted not much had changed. Well, there was that new wing, but technically that had been completed over fifteen years ago, so it wasn't really new anymore.

Just as he remembered it, the time machine sat quietly waiting in that same corner, rarely noticed by visitors. If he didn't do something about it, the assassin could come back at any time and use it to finish the job. It would be easy for her to slip away to another time where she could find the gang alone and vulnerable if he didn't either destroy it or call in a government team to confiscate it right away. No doubt she had realized by now that she had failed; a quick look at the news or search of the internet would easily confirm that. It was not only possible, but highly likely, that as soon as she realized this, the assassin might come back to make another attempt. That gave PJ an idea.

The remainder of the day he sat resting in the museum, keeping a careful eye on the Time Machine. People came and people went; a few adults gave PJ dirty looks but never bothered him. Yet there was no sign of the blonde haired woman.

The crowds were thinning as closing time approached. PJ found himself relaxing the more they dispersed until he was shaken awake from a brief afternoon catnap by a security guard.

"Sir," the guard said, "I'm afraid that you're going to have to leave."

"I'm not a pet!" PJ exclaimed, half alert. It was a common nuisance he'd dealt with all his life, and was somewhat of a touchy subject for him. He was also a little angry at himself for falling asleep. "I'm a citizen of the United States, just like you!"

"No, it's not that. It's closing time."

"Oh." PJ rubbed his eyes and saw the orange glow of the setting sun through the windows. He looked at the man. Well, now that he stopped and thought about it, the guard still looked more like a boy. He had a goofy, childlike look about him, like he'd drop everything and play a game of catch if someone asked him.

The guard was Caucasian and in his early twenties, PJ judged. His face was clean shaven, and his eyes were as deep a blue as the ocean. He was tall and athletically built; while his muscles weren't exactly large, they were well enough defined to show that he kept a toned physique. But the message his body language sent was overwhelmingly one of comfort. The way he tended to always lean against a nearby wall or desk or chair, the way his loose-fitting clothes allowed him a fuller range of motion, even the way he kept his short and messy hair, all pointed to the fact that he cared more about feeling free and comfortable than he did about impressing others with how he looked. His appearance was still neat and clean, but had the air of a fun-loving and energetic puppy. In a way, that made others feel more comfortable around him, too.

"Like I said, we're closed now. You will please follow me to the exit," the guard said. Not rudely, simply matter-of-factly.

PJ shook his head and pulled out his badge. "I work for the Secret Service, and it is a matter of national security that I stay here tonight."

The man raised an eyebrow, but didn't question him. "Oh? And what is this matter?"

"It's a long story," PJ said. "Go ahead and clear the rest of the museum out. After the doors are locked, I will speak to you about it more thoroughly."

The guard nodded and left PJ alone in the room. PJ stretched and went over to inspect the Time Machine for the zillionth time today. Once again, he found nothing that would aid him in catching the assassin. No strands of hair left to identify her DNA, no fingerprints that were clearly visible, no luck whatsoever. He sighed and concluded that the assassin was too smart to come back to the scene of the crime. All that was left to do was call his superiors in Washington to send a team to confiscate the time machine and disassemble it.

The guard soon returned. PJ noted that he walked unusually softly for a human, always remaining light on his toes rather than blundering along as most people do. He didn't say anything, he just looked at PJ and waited for him to speak.

The platypus got straight to the point. "Yesterday, someone used this time machine to go back in time without authorization," he began, pointing at the time machine as he did so. "As I'm sure you know, all time travel is regulated by the government. This time machine is not registered; I don't know how it got here, but it's here. My investigation has led me to find that the culprit is a blonde woman in her thirties. Have you seen anyone that matches that description in the past several days?"

There was a moment as the guard thought before he answered. "I don't think I have," he said slowly. "But, this museum was closed yesterday for the Fourth of July. There wasn't anybody here to use the time machine."

"She must have broken in, then."

The guard snapped his fingers. "I did notice one door this morning that was suspiciously unlocked. There were no signs of forced entry—because it was like someone was already inside and was trying to get out."

"That must have been her," PJ said. "She probably returned from the past sometime in the night. Do you have surveillance systems that might have caught her?"

"Right this way," nodded the man. PJ followed him to an unobtrusive door and watched him slip a key in the lock before smoothly swinging it wide open by the handle. "Although I must admit, our surveillance here is ancient. High definition 2D video cameras from the 2010s. Nothing like the state-of-the-art laser sensors with motion detection and 3D holographic projections like they have at casinos these days."

They walked into a small room of TV screens. They covered an entire wall, displaying pictures of all the various rooms in the building. PJ was unimpressed. TV screens weren't very common anymore; most entertainment came in some form of virtual reality these days.

"Can you find her?" was all he asked.

The man took a seat before a laptop and typed for a moment. "I'm bringing the time machine up on that screen, there." PJ followed his finger to the image of the time machine. The guard continued to speak as his fingers flew across the keypad. "That time machine exhibit has always fascinated me, but for some reason people don't talk about it much around here. All I've heard is that it was the first time machine ever built. That's probably why it's unregistered, I'd guess the government doesn't even know about it. Its inventor, Xavier Onassis, was said to have arrived from his own time in it around fifteen years ago, although his love of corndogs prevented him from ever exploring other time periods with it. His invention fell into disrepair soon after; I didn't know that anyone has ever tried to fix it or that it ever worked until now. Who knows? Maybe Phineas and Ferb fixed it when they were younger? They grew up right here in the Tri-State Area, you know."

"I know," PJ said.

"Yep. That's Danville's claim to fame. The greatest scientific minds since Einstein, Newton, or even Galileo hail from our humble neck of the woods." A dreamy look came over the guard's face for a brief moment. He quickly snapped out of it, however, and returned to his work. "Now, let's rewind the feed. If the time machine was really used, we should have footage where it is missing from the room." After a few seconds, he hit a key and the recording played. The corner of the room the machine usually occupied was empty.

"Looks like you weren't lying," the guard said, noting the date and time he was seeing. He carefully advanced the footage until the bulky machine popped into view. "By Jove," he exclaimed, "Watson, I do believe we've cracked the case!"

A woman with curly blonde hair emerged from the machine and crept her way out of view of the screen, but not before the guard captured the image and saved the recording. "Is this your time traveler?" he asked, blowing up the image.

"That's her," PJ said in a barely audible voice. "That's the assassin."

"Assassin?" The man looked at PJ, putting two and two together. "Wait, do you mean she went back in time to assassinate someone? Like, maybe, the President? I mean, you did say you were Secret Service, right?"

PJ cringed. "Curse my big mouth," he said. "Yes, okay; but that is all classified, do you understand? You can't tell anybody about this!"

"Hey, man, you can trust me," replied the man. PJ felt he could believe him. "But who is she?"

"That's the million-dollar question," PJ stated.

"Let me run a facial recognition scan," said the guard. "Give it a minute, this hunk of junk is very old and slow. How our ancestors ever survived waiting on measly Gigabyte processors is beyond me. Here we are. We have a ninety-eight percent match. Sending the data to the local authorities…"

"NO!" shouted PJ. "What part of 'classified' do you not understand?"

The guard gave the platypus a smirk. "Just kidding!" Something about his playful, lop-sided grin reminded PJ of Phineas. He couldn't help but like this guy.

"Um, thanks for your help," PJ said, transferring a copy of the readout to his own futuristic electronic device.

"Don't mention it."

PJ glanced at the name badge pinned to his chest. The guard's name was Michael. "Right. Listen, Michael, I can't help but notice, but there's something different about you." PJ had trouble putting his thoughts into words, like they were caught on the tip of his tongue.

Michael winked. "Good luck, PJ. Perhaps we shall meet again." He held out a hand, and PJ shook it. So quickly then did PJ exit the room and turn his attention to the readout that he didn't even notice he had never told Michael his name.

The assassin's true identity seemed strangely familiar. PJ was struck with a striking stupor of thought all the way back to his transport. After reading it on the printout, he was certain he knew her name from somewhere! When he climbed in to his flying car of the future, he quickly turned to the wireless onboard internet service and did a search. What he found floored him. Suddenly, he knew why the name rang familiar. The traitorous assassin was very prominent, indeed. PJ's mind went numb as he came to grasp the baffling revelation. The woman was not only a major player in the political leagues of Washington, she was a special advisor to the very President she had gone back in time to assassinate! PJ stared at her picture in bafflement, stunned that he hadn't recognized her before.

He was looking at the face of the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, perhaps the largest and most famous spy agency in the world. Her name was Suzy Johnson.

Fairfax County, Virginia
July 6, 2049

It was approaching midnight. Suzy Johnson's house was on a grassy knoll outside of Fairfax, not even a dozen miles from the Capital. An old fashioned Victorian style home made of brick, it wasn't the largest or the grandest in the spread-out neighborhood, but it did have the roomiest lawn, meaning there was lots of space separating it from the neighbors. A plethora of trees dotted the landscaping, one of which PJ took cover behind as he scoped out the building. He did not find any security guards on the premises, but he did take note of a small shed hiding in the shadows off the west wing. It was possible the shed was for security, although it was just as likely she used an electronic system and didn't keep any bodyguards. In which case it was just a shed, and nothing to be concerned about at all.

Most of the lights in the house were on, casting beams of yellow out the windows and giving PJ ample light to see by. Suzy lived alone, being single; and he did not see anybody else cross in front of the windows, either, leading him to conclude that there was nobody else in the home right now. Which made sense. She had no reason to increase security. She could not have known PJ had found her.

Once he had discovered her identity, the rest had been a cinch. As head of the CIA, she spent most of her time in either Langley at CIA HQ or in Washington to counsel with the big-whig politicians there. He'd tracked down her address and planned a late-night stakeout to bring her down. PJ suspected it was her position as Director that gave her the intelligence resources she had needed to stage an assassination attempt on the President over thirty years before she was even elected. What impressed him the most was how Suzy had made it to the top of the chain several years before her fortieth birthday. Then he remembered the way she had demonstrated her ability to control people with her cutesy act and disarmingly charming voice, and knew she must have used her powers of persuasion to claw her way up so quickly. She was truly a dangerous foe. The only thing that didn't make sense was why she would betray her country after devoting the kind of time and energy needed to be given charge of the CIA. Well, he hoped to find out soon enough.

There was a tall tree that grew near the side of the house. PJ planned out a way up the tree that would settle him on the branch that reached closest to the side of the building, silently crept to its trunk, and climbed. The branch he saw was slender and would not have supported the weight of anything less than a small child. Being a platypus, that didn't matter in his case; he didn't weigh much. He figured if he could be able to climb just far enough, he could jump from the tree and catch himself on the rain gutter. This might have seemed like an oversight on the part of Suzy, had she ever inspected the tree to determine whether someone could break into her house by climbing it—but not so much considering the branches this high were too thin to hold any adult. Of course, no one could have predicted a platypus would attempt it.

PJ carefully judged the distance and leaped. There was no sound made as he caught hold of the rain gutter and pulled himself up. He crawled on all fours to the closest dark windowsill, checked through the glass to ascertain that nobody was inside, and dropped down onto the windowsill ledge. He quickly tried the window, but it was locked. A cursory glance told him the lock was not heavy, only a thin metal hook that was holding down the bottom pane from sliding up. PJ tucked his fingers around the frame of the window and pulled up, incrementally increasing the level of force he applied to the window an ounce at a time so he applied just enough pressure to break the lock without slamming the window on the rebound. His patience was rewarded and the lock snapped, and he cautiously slid the window open a crack and ducked inside.

The room he entered was a guest bedroom. Stuffed animals with unlidded, sightless eyes stared blankly from a shelf near the ceiling. A comfy bed in the center had a quilt embroidered with flower-shaped stitching patterns that was illuminated by the light coming from the hallway through the open door. PJ paused at the doorway to look and listen.

He didn't see any signs of movement in the hallway, but he thought he heard muffled sounds coming from downstairs. He carefully moved from shadow to shadow, planning out each movement before he made it and checking what far corners of the rooms might expose him, should there be any guards watching for intruders. But for so many lights being on in different hallways and rooms, there was not a soul anywhere. The big house appeared to be empty. PJ moved meticulously onward.

Soon he was close enough to tell what the noise he heard from upstairs was. The Experience Wall (a futuristic, virtual reality extension of what used to be known as a TV) was on; some late-night drama that contributed background noise in the form of an arguing couple and ambulance sirens. Then a new noise made the platypus stop. It was water flowing from a faucet. Suzy was in the kitchen!

There she was. PJ saw her down the hall from the entertainment room. Her back was turned to him as she washed a dish. With his footsteps camouflaged by the sink, he crept up behind her until he was almost on her. Then Suzy glanced out the window in front of her, but because the light was on and it was dark outside it acted more like a mirror, and PJ groaned as he made eye contact with her. Suzy whipped around with a warlike screech and threw the dish at him like a Frisbee. PJ ducked and rolled out of the way, jumping to his feet to take a fighting stance.

"You should have known I would eventually find you, Director Johnson."

Suzy scowled. Then she put on her usual playful act. "I admit, I may have underestimated your intelligence, platypus. That trick you pulled to make me think that blaster actually worked on the kids was well played."

PJ smirked at the memory. "Actually, I had nothing to do with that. The boys concocted and carried out that whole scheme on their own. You were actually outsmarted by a couple of kids."

"Eh, I'll take that over an animal," she sighed. PJ growled. "Still, we do have some unfinished business to attend to. Won't you sit down and we can resolve our disputes over a nice cup of tea."

PJ tensed, knowing she was trying to sweet talk him and lure him into a false sense of security. Never dropping his guard, he said, "I'm placing you under arrest for illegal use of an unregistered time machine and attempting to assassinate the future President of the United States, as well as Phineas and Ferb."

The assassin shook her head and chided. "Tsk, tsk. If you were really so smart, you would have found out by now."

Part of him knew her remark was just another trick she was using to find a way to get inside his head, but part of him was suddenly curious. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Figured what out?"

A sly smile crossed her face. "I can't tell you. I promised them I wouldn't."

"Promised who? Promised what?"

Suzy's eyes danced as she teased him with information. "The ones who betrayed you."

He couldn't tell if she was stalling or not. She seemed so confident, he almost couldn't doubt her. PJ shook his head. No, he couldn't listen to her. He'd seen her do this every time she wanted to manipulate somebody to do what she wanted. He had to fight back.

"You're lying! You're the one who's the traitor! I can't believe someone in your position would actually make an attempt on the President's life!"

"Oh well," the assassin sighed. "I guess it's the hard way, then." She snatched an egg beater off the countertop next to her and held it out like a sword. "En garde!"

PJ glanced to his side and grabbed a wooden spoon off the table. "Time for you to pay for what you did. Hiyaa!" With that, he sprang forward while slashing with his makeshift rapier. Suzy parried skillfully. PJ jumped on the countertop so that he was at her level, and the battle that ensued was ferocious. The two combatants danced across the kitchen, swishing and lashing with their weapons in lightning fast blurs. PJ had the greater hand-to-hand skill and was speedier, but Suzy had longer arms and more body weight to throw into her attacks. With a vicious strike, she brought her egg beater down and split his wooden spoon, ruining her beater's metal spokes in the process. Both weapons rendered useless, PJ charged and tackled her to the floor. They went rolling out the kitchen and into the entry way inside the front door. Lamps were shattered, chairs knocked over, and debris strewn about as they tussled. They crashed through the front door and out onto the dim porch, when finally Suzy kicked PJ off of her. He flew over the side of the porch and landed softly enough on the grassy lawn.

PJ stopped to catch his breath and let his eyes adjust to the night. Suzy's hair was frayed and frizzled from the skirmish, and she was breathing as heavy as he was. She rose to her feet at the same time he did. "I really hate having to do this," she said, though the look on her face betrayed that she was really expecting to enjoy it a lot. "Tell you what, platypus; if you surrender now, I'll spare you from a very painful end. But only if you swear allegiance to the Conspirium. I see that you would make a powerful ally."

The way she capitalized the word 'Conspirium'—whatever that meant—made PJ's fur stand on edge. "What are you even talking about?" he spat.

Suzy just grinned wickedly. "Last cha-ance," she sang. PJ crouched in preparation for another assault, but then she did something he did not expect. Suzy stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled.

"Come here, girl! We've got an intruder!"

PJ was confused at first about who she was talking to. Suddenly, a loud whine (or was it a yawn?) emanated from the shed he'd seen earlier. It was off to his side now, from where he stood beside the porch. Casting his eyes about to see what had caused the noise, PJ discerned from his closer vantage point that it wasn't really a shed at all. It was a dog house; the biggest he had ever seen.

His blood turned cold when he distinctly saw two yellow eyes materialize inside the dark chasm. They were at his level at first, but whatever imperceptible body they were attached to began to rise as the monster lurking inside roused from its slumber. The eyes ascended higher and higher until they were at the height of a tall man. Then they came for him.

PJ's mind went blank until he was jolted out of shock by tripping over his own backpedaling webbed feet. The monster emerged from the dog house and came into view by the lights of the porch. Its fur was black and fluffy. Its fangs were long and bared. Its deep growls reverberated from a massive ribcage and indicated its size was enormous. The beast walked anthropomorphically with paws the size of PJ's whole body outstretched for him, the long sharp claws catching the light like the glint of a mirror.

At first, he thought he was looking at a bear. Then, as it advanced more fully into the light, PJ saw furry pom-poms on its wrists and dangling earflaps. That was when he recognized what had been living in that shed: a gigantic, monstrous black poodle. Instantly, PJ knew what he was up against. After all, he had been the first.

Between the way the mutated poodle walked on its hind legs, the uncharacteristic size and muscularity, and the opposability of the thumbs, PJ could tell exactly where this creature came from. It could not have been born naturally. PJ was looking at one of his animal-cloned siblings. Born in a test tube under the unloving (yet not necessarily un-nurturing) care of a scientific laboratory. Genetically manipulated so that certain stronger traits would be dominant. Endowed with human-like intelligence and the maximum potential for physical fitness. However, this canine was clearly not meant to interact normally with humans the way PJ was, with linguistic abilities and a sense of consciousness. It had a sick look in its eyes, a thirst to tear and maim and shred. It had been turned into a monster, both on the inside and out. PJ suddenly knew why Suzy didn't bother to keep any human bodyguards around.

The mutant poodle advanced on PJ like a lion approaching a sloth. PJ crawled backward at a frustratingly slow pace, never averting his eyes from the beast. The chain attaching the monster by a collar to the outhouse reached its end with a yank and she leaned towering over PJ, straining close enough almost to reach him. Finally he pushed himself up and sprinted toward the nearest tree. Behind, he heard a sickening snap that must have been the chain breaking when the poodle bounded after him. The hound bayed into the otherwise quiet night, sending shivers up his spine. He scampered up the tree and felt it shudder when the claws raked across the bark PJ had been straddling only nanoseconds before.

Suzy burst into her wicked laughter from the porch below, and PJ twisted around to see her once he was at a safe enough elevation. Her silhouette was a dark outline, juxtaposed before the gleaming light behind her so that her face was hidden in shadow, but he could imagine the contorted smile she always wore. "I'm afraid this is the end for you, my slippery friend. When Sheila sets her sights on you, there's nothing that can save you."

The terror intensified when PJ looked back down. 'Sheila' seemed to be calculating something in her head. She was looking at the crotch of the thickest branch with a curious eye. PJ watched her crouch and jump up to latch on with her paws, those anthropomorphic hands working in her favor to grip and pull as she swung a leg up. She didn't climb with the grace PJ had, outweighing him as she did by a factor that was probably well over fifty. But sinking those claws into the bark lended enough leverage to pull herself up and find PJ once again in close range.

PJ began to climb higher, realizing for the second time that night that the lighter branches would be to his advantage. But 'She' was faster than he anticipated. PJ was almost thrown out of the tree when her paw yanked him by the tail, and he only managed to hang on to the branch he was gripping by a miracle. PJ kicked out with his poisonous ankle barbs, sinking one deep into the matted flesh of the mutant poodle's hand. She let go with a scream of agony that curled his fur. He climbed on without turning back.

All too quickly, the branches thinned into smaller and smaller twigs. PJ was running out of room to go, and She was not far below. When at last there was nowhere further he could climb, he looked down. She could only make it about halfway up the tree before the branches became too thick to push through and too thin to hold her up. She was just watching, calculating. PJ held his breath as She settled on a new idea. Reaching out to the base of the stem PJ's weight was supported by, She began to sway the branch back and forth. The movement on her end was slight, but by the time it reached PJ, it was significantly amplified to the violence of a bucking bronco. He had to hold on tight to keep from being shaken out of the tree. Once his webbed feet slipped, as they weren't very convenient for gripping, but he held fast with his front paws and was able to recover and pull himself back up. After a couple minutes of this, when it became apparent he wasn't going to fall on his own accord, PJ was horrified to see the mutant use her strength to start tearing the limb clean off. She was going to literally rip him out of the tree!

It happened even faster than he imagined. The mutant's strength was incredible, and with a roar she snapped the branch in her hands. PJ's stomach dropped. He along with the rest of the splayed wingspan of the branch crashed through the foliage all the way down to the ground. Frantically, PJ extricated himself from the heap of leaves and wood, but not before She landed catlike at the trunk of the tree and pounced. It felt like getting hit by a bus. PJ felt his ribs crack as he was slammed against the ground under those massive paws, knocking the wind out of him. Sheila's foul breath was all the air he could try to suck back in, burning his lungs that were slowly being crushed under her weight like a boa constrictor's squeeze.

Stars were popping into his field of vision, clogging his sight of the already black night. A darker void appeared before him when jaws that could rip him apart gaped open and went for his throat. PJ's instinctive final movement was an act of sheer desperation. Already beginning to black out, he stretched a hand into the space above where those teeth had been, as recorded in the recollection of his mind's eye seconds ago. By pure luck, his outstretched fingers jabbed into the mutant's eyes, dead center.

Sheila howled in a fit of pain and rage. She tore away in recoil, leaving a heavy scratch across his chest. PJ sucked in gasp after painful gasp of air, resupplying the needed oxygen to his bloodstream for his vision to return and show him the pathetic image of the mutant poodle writhing on the ground a few feet away, trying her best to wipe away at her eyes with those gargantuan mittens.

This was his only chance. Adrenaline blocked away the pain for a moment as PJ sprang into action. He dove onto the mass of muscle and fur and wrapped his arms tightly around her neck from behind, locking his hands together by his wrists, and squeezed. The arms of the poodle tried to reach up and throw him over her shoulders, but he latched his feet under her armpits to become immovable. She tried rolling on him to weaken his resolve, yet PJ only squoze tighter, cutting off her windpipe completely. For a tense minute of struggling, the mutant poodle's strength declined slowly but steadily until, finally, PJ felt her lose consciousness. Exhausted, he pushed her limp body off him and wearily took to his feet.

The assassin's jaw sank to the ground.

"I must say," PJ panted, "I don't believe I have had the pleasure of seeing you speechless before."

At that moment, however, the Secret Service agent was blinded by a searchlight. "Put your hands on your head," an electronically amplified voice emitted from a bullhorn commanded. "Get on your knees and put your hands on your head!"

"I am Suzy Johnson, the Director of the CIA!" Suzy shouted at the armada of government cars that were now arriving on the scene. "This platypus attacked me! He tried to assassinate me!"

"No, she's lying," PJ tried to say, but found himself too wiped out to raise his voice loudly enough to be heard. A small platoon of fully armed and outfitted officers spilled into view as more spotlights shone onto him from every angle. All their weapons were trained on him.

"She's the assassin," he tried again, but three men converged on him and pinned him to the ground, handcuffing him in the process. PJ was too weak to resist at this point. He swiveled his head to see Suzy ordering the teams of men around like she was in charge; she must have called for them somehow while he was distracted with her mutated pet. Confusion, exhaustion, and his injuries combined against him, forcing him to succumb to syncope.

So, we are almost at the end, my friends. The final chapter of Under Absolute Despotism will be posted in one week, on this upcoming Friday. A big thanks to you all, my faithful readers, for making this story such a success. As a wise man once said, "Fanfiction is self-indulgent by nature." While that is true, I don't think I would have had the willpower to see this story all the way through if it wasn't for the positive response you guys have given it. What started as a story that sounded like it would be fun to write turned into a dream to contribute a story of great value to the fandom. I can say I did my best to accomplish that, I just hope you all enjoyed the journey! See you all next week, and remember: I still like getting reviews!

Review responses:

Phineas A: That's great! Next chapter will be the ending.

Agent B Tiger: I know, wasn't the decoy hilarious? Although Perry it seems will never know the truth... Well, now that it's finally revealed that Suzy was in fact the assassin all along, let me explain why. I wanted this story to utilize an underused character for the antagonist, since almost everybody uses Doof or Alternate Dimension Doof. I was originally planning on using Rodney, but then I read Secret Agent G's Time And Time Again and she wrote such a good evil Rodney that I looked for someone else, someone different. It hit me that Suzy is probably the most evil character on the show (I mean, even Buford's scared of her!), plus she's a lot harder to guess than a bald guy with a weird accent (or as I like to describe him, the albino version of the Red Skull). Okay, maybe not that much harder, but still, I thought it was a clever twist. You're probably right that simply seeing Jeremy and Candace kiss for the first time (and this would be the first time she sees, since she wasn't there for their real first kiss in "SBTY!") wouldn't send her over the edge. Suppose she was already going to end up evil anyways, then it was just one instance she remembers as tragic. Now, for Perry. I know how much you love Perry, and I know I didn't give him a lot of action. But there really wasn't a lot he could do, since most of that chap he was stuck in that pinata trap. Even once he was free, the kids were there, which made him hesitate; and it all happened so fast that he didn't get a chance step in, even though we know he will sacrifice his cover to protect the boys. Now if he had, everyone's memories would have to be wiped and that would be the end of the story - which is probably what would have happened if Dan 'n Swampy wrote this; then it would have fit in with the canon and "Act Your Age" and everything. Although I say AYA shouldn't count as canon until we get it in English. After all, the lag between Despotism's brainstorming and publishing is when AYA aired (in Russian), so I didn't really take AYA into account at the time.

Jet Engine: Yep, it was all part of my plan, as you can see. Next chapter we'll see how it all turns out.

shadowstalker: Thanks for the reviews! Now that there's three of you, you've almost got enough to make a basketball team! But you have too many to form a badminton team, I'm sorry to say. Unless you play Pyramid Sports...

Please, if anything else about the story doesn't make sense or appears to have a plot hole, let me know via review or PM and I will see if it's something I can explain! The only way I can make this story better is with your input! I've actually put quite a bit of thought into the chronology and everything to think out how it all works, much of which is not involved directly in this story, so you might get a little extra background to the story for fun! And I'd like to hear what you think about the future of Phineas and Ferb, too! Thanks again!