First off, review responses:

Dreadwing216: Me too. Everyone loves a happy ending, right?

TheAlmightyUltimix: You're right. PJ should have called for backup. While this was a top secret mission, there must have been somebody he could call. But PJ, as an OC, is based off Perry for his characterization, and Perry rarely calls for backup. It's still an honest plothole, though. If I were to rewrite that chapter, I'd have PJ call for backup then rush in to apprehend Suzy like he did, then the backup arrives in the form of that government team that arrested him at the end of the chapter. Either Suzy would use the powers of manipulation she has in this story to persuade the team to arrest PJ and believe her story instead of his, just like how it went last chapter, or it would turn out they were actually on her side the whole time as part of the 'Conspirium' Suzy mentioned last time - you'll learn more about them this chapter! That would fill in the hole sufficiently, I believe.

Phineas A: Remember that letter Phineas gave PJ before PJ returned to his own time? That's the only hint I'm giving at this point, you'll have to read on to see what happens!

The WGPM: For those who were wondering, that Michael guy from last chapter was me, making an author's cameo! Except I'm not really a security guard, and I'm not from the future. But that is my name irl, and was a fair description of me otherwise. But don't any of you try to stalk or hack me, it'll never work! There's still millions of Michael's out there and you'll never find me! Besides, I'm not rich or anything, there's nothing about me that makes me worth hacking.

Jet Engine: That's because I am the master at twists. Sort of. Kind of. Maybe?

PFTones3482: Thanks! That means a lot to me! My public speaking instructor once said that you know you've given a good public speech when instead of thanking your audience, your audience is thanking you. I suppose the same principle holds true in writing.

shadowstalker: Wow, I'm flattered. That is a huge honor for me. The image of Ferb being the Monogram of the future is... well, for anyone who was a nut like me and went ahead and saw AYA even though it's only in Russian at the moment, you'll probably know what I mean. I won't spoil it. Still, Ferb giving the agents their briefings would be interesting, since he'd probably still be British accented. Or, maybe all Ferb would have to do is blink, and the agents will automatically know what to do? I could see it happening... The best image that popped into my head, though, is Ferb with a Monogram-like mustache. Green, of course.

TheAvatarLordRoku: Indeed. Suzy was the assassin. And so we also see how PJ was the prisoner all along going clear back to chapter 1, and how he got in there.

EpicThoth3's: Yeah, probably a little late. The flip side about that is that it makes PJ sound like he's cussing... Yeah, I can't think of any clever responses at the moment. You really squeaked that in there, didn't give me a lot of time to come up with anything witty.

Thanks for those, you guys! Now, please enjoy your finale!

Chapter 8

Headquarters, Department of Homeland Security
Washington, D. C.
July 7, 2049

The prisoner, having concluded his story, exhaled deeply. Across the table, his two listeners stared back, studying him carefully. A still quiet overcame the heavily sound-proofed room. It seemed to make the interrogator uncomfortable. He perfunctorily shuffled his papers around and dumped them back into a manila folder in his hands. Slapping it noisily back down on the metal table, he piercingly looked the prisoner in the eyes.

"I've sat here at this desk for many years, and I have heard many individuals plead their case," said he. "But that has to be by far the most extravagant, fantastical, and absurd poppycock fairy tale I have ever heard."

"You don't believe him?" asked the lawyer, shocked.

"Not one word." The man folded his arms across his chest and leaned back. "Criminals have a reputation for being very creative with their stories."

"But it was so detailed," objected the lawyer.

"I'm sure he spent weeks on end planning out the intricacies of it all," the interrogator brushed aside. "But surely you wouldn't take the word of some animal over the good reputation of Director Johnson?"

The lawyer didn't look like she knew how to respond to that. "Well," she cast her eyes at PJ. "Do you have any proof she is the assassin?"

The prisoner smirked. "I thought you'd never ask." He reached into the mystical pocket space behind his back in which platypuses are prone to storing their various personal objects and pulled out a photograph, sliding it onto the center of the desk. The interrogator and lawyer leaned over to inspect it.

It was as plain as day. The assassin was standing next to the time machine in the museum of Danville 2014, pointing a pistol-shaped device at those young versions of Phineas and Ferb. The two humans stared at the picture in shock.

PJ threw down another photo on top of the first. This one was taken from an aerial vantage point and portrayed the assassin in the act of luring Candace and Isabella down an alley underneath a metal cage carefully positioned to trap them. Another photo depicted her threatening to light the piñata inside of which PJ was entombed on fire. The evidence was undeniable. The assassin was unmistakably Suzy Johnson, the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. Both the interrogator and the lawyer were able to easily recognize her.

"You are probably wondering why these pictures weren't taken with a 3D camera," PJ said. "That's because they were taken before those were invented. Remember that camera Agent P kept stored inside his fedora at all times? The one he used to show me all the projects Phineas and Ferb had built that summer? That was how I got these photos. His camera is always with him, snapping pics from under his fedora during each and every mission. Before I left, he agreed to let me take them."

The lawyer sat back in her chair, comprehension dawning on her face. "Suzy Johnson, the Director of the CIA, tried to assassinate the President and her family," she said, almost as if she could scarcely believe it. She stood up suddenly. "We have to get this news out fast, before she strikes again! We have to warn the President, the other agencies, and the Secret Service; not to mention the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the leaders of Congress, and while we're at it let's get her face on every billboard from here to San Francisco!" She pointed at the stack of photos. "We have to catch her before it's too late! We—what are you doing?"

The interrogator picked up the photographs as if he were about to inspect them more closely, then everyone gasped as he ripped them to shreds and dropped the bits on the floor. "Director Johnson was attacked by this animal driven by delusion and the natural basal instincts and uncivilized tendencies all animals share," he said, never looking up from the table. "The animal will be dealt with severely for its crimes. You," he turned to the lawyer, "you will not be allowed to bring any stories it," he pointed at PJ, "may have told you in its vain justifications for attempted murder to the public." The man pushed the button that called for escorts to come take her away. "Is that understood?"

"I don't believe this," she said, looking more stunned than before. "Totalitarianism is happening right before my eyes. Not to mention taking away the freedom of the press."

"I can arrange for a cell of your own, if that is what you prefer." After he spoke, the door opened, and two muscly guards came through the doorway to flank her. Another entered behind them to stand beside PJ.

"Why are you doing this?" hissed the prisoner, his teal fur spiking and bristling. "What loyalty do you have to Suzy Johnson?"

"That is none of your concern," the man replied.

"What is the Conspirium?" PJ stood on the seat of his chair to bring himself to full height. "How are you involved with it?"

"Take the mindless animal away."

An unfathomable anger overcame PJ. The guard standing beside him reached out a hand, but PJ bit it, drawing blood. While he still had one wrist handcuffed to the metal chair he occupied, he was otherwise free to jump out of the seat and turn the chair in his hands outward like a four-spiked shield. He brought one leg down on the foot of the guard he had just bitten, and when the man jumped in pain he swept his good leg out from under him, toppling the guard down onto the floor.

The other two guards rushed over to help. With the screech of a wildman, PJ charged with the four chair legs pointing out and caught both men in the groin, dropping them instantly. Turning to the interrogator, wrath filled his eyes that could have burned the man like lasers. "I am not a mindless animal!" In a sophisticated movement, PJ grasped the arms of the chair and charged the interrogator. With the skill of a gymnast he drove the legs of the chair into the floor like a pole-vaulter and flung his body upward in a hand-spring, pushing down on the chair to catch air, then carrying the dead weight of it with him, thereby launching himself into a flying kick straight at the man. It connected in the center of his barrel-shaped chest, knocking him back against the one-way glass on the far wall.

PJ turned to the lawyer. "Are you ok?" She nodded, a little shakily. "We have to get out of here if we're going to get the truth out." He reached down and pulled the keys off the belt of one of the men he'd taken out and unlocked his cuffs. "Hurry!" he shouted, indicating toward the door.

"Wait," she said, turning back to the table. "Without the audio recording, we'll have no proof!" She grabbed her briefpurse and unceremoniously threw all her gear inside it like she was playing hot potato. "Alright, let's go!"

PJ nodded and led the way out. The two of them kept up a fast pace as they found a stairwell and skipped down two steps at a time. He worried at first he might be going too fast for her, but the lawyer seemed to be able to keep pace with him easily with her long strides. After two minutes an alarm sounded.

They reached the ground floor without running into anybody. However, as soon as they left the stairwell and looked down the hallway, there was a small army of agents coming straight for them.

"What do we do?" the lawyer asked, frantically.

"Give me the recording," PJ said. "I can't get both of us out of here, but I'm small enough I will be able to slip out alone. I'll take it straight to the President, and I promise you won't be locked up here for more than an hour."

"Okay." She nodded bravely before placing the device in his outstretched hand. "Be careful," she added. PJ turned back up the stairs. There was an air vent that was just his size on one wall. He pried it open and crawled inside, trying to pull the cover back in place behind him. The metal grate wasn't sealed anymore, but it at least stayed, that would have to do for now. PJ stowed away the recording and crawled through the dimly lit vent. He had no way of knowing which direction he was going, but he knew eventually he had to find an opening that led somewhere useful. By the time he found another hatch, it had been almost fifteen minutes since he and the lawyer initially escaped.

Looking through the slits in the air vent, PJ saw that he had found an office room with cubicles taking up the majority of the floor space. Most of the people he could see were paper-pushers, not the highly trained (not to mention heavily armed) guards he was trying to avoid. Still, there was no reason to emerge from the ventilation here and be seen, so he moved on.

He reached a point where the shaft turned vertical, climbing to the upper floors. PJ used all four limbs as well as his tail to shimmy his way up to the top. Once there, he found that the shaft ended with a grated vent like the one he'd entered through. He used his feet to kick it open and emerged into a vacant room. It was another smaller office, but this time there was nobody around. PJ crept to the door and looked down a long hallway. It was clear of his pursuers, so he picked a direction and sprinted. If the short flashes of scenery visible in the passing windows of the rooms he could see in were any indicator, he was several stories high. He could have sworn he saw the Washington Monument towering over the city skyline out the corner of one. He took a right turn.

This hallway served as the entryway for the elevators, and the second PJ saw them there was a ding. He slipped through a doorway onto another staircase at the exact same time an armed search party stepped into the foyer, barely dodging them. There was not very many places left for him to run. All he could do was keep going up the stairs, all the way to the top floor. PJ paused to catch his breath before he cracked the door open and looked out. This floor felt smaller than the ones below. He emerged from the staircase noiselessly. Instead of there being rooms and offices, this hallway was more like a hall of remembrance. Portraits of historical events and places lined the far wall, while a bust of George W. Bush, the President who called for the creation of the Department of Homeland Security clear back at the beginning of the century, waited at the end, a sentinel watching all who entered. PJ turned his tail toward the bust and looked for any means he could use for escape.

There were no windows on this floor, though all the windows in this building were probably reinforced anyway. The only chance he saw he had was the roof, but how would he get down? He had to be over a hundred feet high. Sounds coming from the stairs he had just used meant that he couldn't go back that way. The roof was his only option. He kicked down the locked door that granted rooftop access and gave one last hopeful look down the hallway for any last ideas when the staircase door burst open, and Suzy Johnson as well as the interrogator from earlier spied PJ up ahead.

"There he is!" The interrogator pointed. PJ spun on his heels and rushed up the last flight of steps before bursting out onto the rooftop. A flagpole positioned in the center jubilantly waved the Stars and Stripes far over his head. As Suzy and the interrogator appeared in the entrance right behind him, PJ stepped on to the ledge and looked down from the dizzying height. There was no way anyone could survive that kind of fall.

That sugary voice he had come to dread floated daintily on the wind to reach his ears. "What do you call a platypus at the end of his rope?" she asked.

PJ shot her a venomous glare. "Not a psychopathic killer, that's for sure!"

Suzy looked hurt for a moment. Then she waved him off. "No, silly! It's called Perrycord! Get it? 'Cause it sounds like 'paracord'?"

"You're grasping at straws," PJ contended.

"No matter, as you can see, there is no escape. Now, you can choose to come quietly and join us; or, well…" She gave a sweeping gesture with her hand, letting PJ figure out for himself what she was implying. "You could make a case for a new figure of speech. Something to the effect of it 'raining cats, dogs, and platypuses'."

PJ gritted his teeth, reviewing his options. "What is 'the Conspirium'? What are you trying to accomplish by assassinating President Flynn and her family?" he asked.

Suzy paced to one side, as did the man she had brought with her, though in the opposite direction—cutting off any possible retreat. "Would you say it is correct that the President of the United States of America wields more power than any other single man—or woman—on earth?" she asked.

"Yes, I would say that." PJ played along, wracking his brains for a plan.

"Well, you would be wrong. The President holds the power, but the President does not wield it. The Office is all for show, the President a puppet figurehead, to be manipulated by whoever controls the strings."

"And this 'Conspirium' is who does that?"

Suzy gave PJ a mysterious smile that could have shamed the Mona Lisa. "Oh, no. The Conspirium does much more than that," she declared. "We try to build a cartel on power, if you will. Many influential people have joined our brotherhood, now. Senators, Congressmen and –women, Corporate Executives, business tycoons, and many others. Hunger for power draws them in. Together, the Conspirium arranges for world events to happen in a way that profits our elite. Our influence extends to everything from oil prices to military power to the stock exchange."

"Impossible," PJ scoffed. "There is no way one group could have so much power."

The man spoke for the first time since arriving on the rooftop. "Do not doubt the Conspirium's reach. It extends farther than you could imagine."

"So far that it would send someone back in time to assassinate President Flynn and her friends as children?" PJ asked.

Suzy turned from her monolog to look the monotreme in the eyes. "I told you, didn't I? The Conspirium arranges historical events to happen the way we like. It's all thanks to the power of time travel. Back in the days before it was invented, it was believed that time travel would never be possible in reality, at least not going backwards in time. Einstein showed how Relativity would allow you to go forwards in time, but his theory indicated that you'd be stuck there if you tried. This is because mathematically, time is another dimension just like height, length, and width. We can measure these as distances—a triangle can be five feet high, a rectangle can be four feet long, a sphere can be three inches wide. Time is thus a distance of a different kind—for example, we would measure a day as 86,400 seconds long. It is still a physical length. And what do we know about lengths? They can never be negative. You can't hop on a train and travel negative 20 miles to go home from work—the distance must always be positive. Time is the same way, it is impossible to travel a negative distance in time; or, another way of saying it is that you can't go into the past. Or so we thought, until a working Time Machine was built that laughed in the face of physics.

"Well, the Conspirium was looking for a shortcut to gaining more power, and time travel seemed to have all the answers. We attempted to rewrite history by sending an assassin to find President Clayton in the past, as a way to upset the balance of power."

"The Conspirium was behind the assassination attempt on President Clayton?" gasped PJ.

"Indeed. You could say it was our Maiden Voyage with time travel. Our first ambitious attempt to assume control of the Presidency. It was a failure. A spy discovered the plan and notified the Secret Service, which was just able to prevent us from resetting history. After that, the US government assumed the power to regulate all time travel, hoping they would make it virtually impossible for anyone to try again. Unfortunately for them, this worked perfectly in our favor.

"You see, the US Government has three arms of power: the Executive, who is the President; the Legislative—in other words, Congress—which is split into two bodies, the House and the Senate, to spread out the power; and the Judicial, represented by the Supreme Court. When the Founders of this nation wrote the Constitution, they meant for these three branches to balance out the powers of government using checks and balances, to prevent any one of them from gaining all the power. For almost two hundred and fifty years, it worked, until finally a small group of powerful individuals managed to unite the three branches together as one.

"The Conspirium sifted its way into the federal government one branch at a time. First, we placed our own people in Congress. Eventually, between our political machine and those senators we could buy or bribe, the Conspirium gained a majority in both houses, and at last it was time to make our next move. We could now step into the regulation of time travel. By the time there is a President set up who was essentially loyal to the Conspirium, we'll controlled two of the three branches. The President has the power to appoint Supreme Court Justices, so having the Executive was just a hop and a skip from the Judicial as well. Soon, with our own people in all three branches, the Conspirium will become the de facto Government of the United States!"

"No," PJ whispered, unable to believe his own ears. "That can't be."

"It is," she succinctly stated. "Isn't it glorious? The Conspirium, controlling all three separately, like a brain controlling three arms at once. We have gained complete power of the whole federal government, without anybody knowing it! Meanwhile, the voters believe they live in this democracy where they actually get a say in anything! They couldn't be more wrong! They have no idea how much the Conspirium has grown or what we have become! What we will become!"

For the first time, the platypus took his eyes off of Suzy and looked for the Capital building to the southeast. Could there really be truth to all this? "No! I won't believe it," he denied in attempt to shake off the horror of her claims. "There's no way Isabella would help you in your evil plans! I know her very well, and she would never join something like that!"

"That's correct," charmed Suzy. "Or at least, it partially is. The Conspirium's hand is over the Oval Office, but not in the way you think. President Flynn may not be a member of our brotherhood, but she has nevertheless already graciously served our needs."

"What do you mean?" PJ asked.

That caused her to laugh. "So naïve! Of course she wouldn't join us, neither can she be bought, but that doesn't mean we can't still control her. That is where I come in! Have you learned nothing this whole time you've known me? I can be very persuasive when I want to be!"

"What are you saying?" demanded PJ.

With a flick of her golden hair, Suzy elaborated. "I told you, the President can be held on strings like a puppet, even without ever knowing it! Did I not tell you that I am the master of manipulation? I am the Puppetmaster!"

The very air seemed to draw thin. She paused for dramatic effect, allowing it to sink in. "Yes, as a matter of fact, Isabella Flynn is actually quite easy to manipulate. She's smart and strong-willed, all right, but if you put a positive spin on it, you can get her to swallow anything. And her husband, for all his renown, is even more credulous than she is! With my position as Director of the CIA, I get all the information that reaches to the President before she does, and I can use it to make her believe what I want, say what I want, and do what I want. My influence and power is greater than all the rest of the Conspirium, for President Flynn is my play doll!"

A knot formed in PJ's stomach as he remembered the batch of ravaged dolls Suzy kept in the trunk she had shown him and Perry back when she had them trapped in the museum. It made him shudder to remember how she treated her dolls. But he had to ask anyway. "Then why, if you already had a perfectly good doll, would you destroy it? Why go back in time and assassinate her if you already claim to control her? How would the Conspirium benefit from that?"

"That, my small mammalian friend, is the question," declared Suzy. "Why, indeed? The answer is very simple. Having the power of time travel at your fingertips gives you foresight that borders on the level of clairvoyance. Isabella Flynn needed to be eliminated before she uncovered the truth, something that was bound to happen, it was just a matter of time. The Conspirium also stood to gain from the changes her disappearance from the timeline would create.

"It all comes down to one thing. What could you possibly want when you have all power? The only thing you want is more. Growing up, I soon learned ways to manipulate others into doing what I wanted. What began as self-interest grew into a hobby, then an addiction, then an obsession. The more I could control others, the more power I gained. By the time I was an adult, I decided it was time to take it to the next level. I entered the CIA because the first step to controlling others is knowing everything about them. Working in intelligence jumped out to me as the best way to learn the secrets everyone hides, the secrets that give you control. Because secrets are what give you power!

"Even the Conspirium's power is based on secrets. But controlling most of the government isn't enough for us. Just as continuous feasting will cause your appetite to grow over time, gaining power only draws out the lust for more. We feel it is time to take the highest seat of government into our own hands. Will we stop there? No. After America is ours, we will look to the world! President Isabella Flynn has served her country well, but it is time someone new assumed control with the ushering in of a new age! And the Conspirium will lead us into that age! An age of worldwide peace, where our control will force everyone to do as we wish! We will have all power! There will be no more war, no more chaos, no more tragedy, no more heartbreak!"

"At the cost of everyone's freedom!" PJ argued.

"Well," Suzy said, "since you care about your freedom so much, I give you one final choice. Join us, or face your doom. Make it quickly now, this breeze is messing up my curls."

It was grim. PJ took one last glance over his shoulder, and saw that she was right. What choice did he have? If he jumped, there would be no one else left to stop her. The wind was indeed picking up as well; the flapping of the flag overhead attested to that. It whipped and snapped to the air current as if trying to get his attention, but he couldn't bear to look at it. Not if betraying his country was the only way to spare his life.

"I guess I have no choice," he sagged.

"That is right," cooed the blonde assassin. "Come with us. Come and glimpse the new world you will help us forge."

The defeated platypus stepped forward to be escorted back inside. Suzy's outstretched arms guided him back while the interrogator took up a position at PJ's rear to march behind him. His surrender complete, PJ couldn't help but cast a wistful glance at the banner he had so many times pledged allegiance to as it streamed from above. The colors seemed to dance on the breeze, ready to be carried away from earthly troubles, were it not for the pole it was anchored to. If only the wind could have so easily carried him away before he was forced to do the unthinkable and turn his back on his country. PJ stopped and did a double take.

The interrogator accidentally bumped into him. "Keep moving," he ordered, before following PJ's eyes up. "That flag won't mean anything to you much longer," he asserted before giving the platypus a shove.

PJ stumbled to the doorframe of the stairwell and turned around. "On second thought," he declared, "I think I will jump."

"What?" Suzy gasped, astonished.

"You heard me." PJ blasted off in the direction of the flagpole.

"Get him!" Suzy ordered the man, and he sprinted after him.

PJ leaped high onto the pole and climbed as fast as he could go. It was just like climbing the rope in the gymnasium back at the Academy, and he was just out of reach by the time Suzy and her underling got to the flagpole's base.

"Get down from there!" Suzy commanded. "You're making a serious mistake!"

PJ did not answer until he had ascended all the way up and gripped a corner of the flag. "No, but I almost did. But Old Glory has opened my eyes to the freedom She stands for! And by 'freedom,' I mean my chance to escape; and by 'opened my eyes' I mean gave me the idea; and—no, the rest I think you can pretty much figure out on your own."

There was nothing Suzy or the man could do to stop him as he bit clean through the string the flag was held by. He scrambled the last foot up to the ball at the crest of the pole and balanced on it like a bird. "This platypus is out! Peace!" With that, PJ grabbed the corners of both ends of the flag long-ways and launched himself, spreading the Star Spangled Banner over his head like a parachute. The wind caught him by an updraft and lifted him high over the heads of his would-be captors, who were left to gawk as he sailed away with the breeze. Suzy screeched like a banshee and shook her fist at him, but he didn't bother to respond.

When the people of the city below saw a short, teal platypus coasting in flight overhead, drifting by the drag of an American Flag "parachute", a few were inspired. Some shook their heads, wondering what sort of a strange world they lived in. Others shrugged and went about their business. None of them suspected that with him, the hopes of liberty and justice for all had just taken flight as well, to be secured for them and their future generations.

The moment he was on terra firma again, PJ ran straight for the White House. He had to get there before Suzy or more of her cronies found him. After cursing his short, stubby legs every step of the way for not being fast enough, at last he rounded the security fence and doubled over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath beside the gatekeeper's post.

"I—work for—Secret Service," he panted, chest heaving. He slid his ID badge across a desk. "Gotta—see—the President—right away."

The guard took his badge and scanned it. "PJ?" she asked. The platypus nodded. Without hesitation, she hit an alarm and put her radio to her mouth. "The platypus is here!" she broadcast on all channels. "I repeat, the platypus is here!"

PJ practically jumped out of his fur. This sentry must be part of the Conspirium, too! He bolted out the door and up the north lawn, adrenaline granting him new reserves of strength.

"Wait!" the woman shouted, but too late.

Before he had made it to the front door of the White House, there were already more men running to catch him. PJ looked to dodge them all, knowing his only shot now was to see President Flynn herself. Then, something one of the security agents shouted caused him to stop.

"PJ, stop! We need to take you to the President! Her orders are to see you right away!"

If the Conspirium were trying to stop him, why would they be giving him what he wanted? PJ cautiously stopped and took a defensive stance. "How do I know you aren't going to arrest me again?"

"Arrest you?" asked one of the agents, who PJ recognized as another member of the Secret Service, someone he knew fairly well. The look on the other agent's face seemed like genuine confusion. "No, we've been waiting for you! The President said you'd show up, and would like you to personally brief her."

"Will you take me to her?" PJ asked, eyeing the taser on the young man's belt which he kept a hand unnervingly close to.

Sensing PJ's distrust, he held up his hands peacefully. "That's what we're here for, but you running around like this is making us a little nervous."

The platypus relaxed only slightly. "It was only because I'm in a hurry. This is extremely urgent."

"Come with me, then," beckoned the guard as several more caught PJ. "No, let him walk," he told them. "This is PJ, he's one of our team. We've all worked together before, you guys know we can trust him. C'mon, PJ, I'll lead you to the President."

PJ warily watched the other men over his shoulder, but they let him go without further question. He was led past the familiar white Greek columns into the most famous place of residence on earth. Within five minutes, he was standing outside the Oval Office, and the doors opened to let him in.

For the sake of the five other individuals in the room the President trusted, he told President Isabella Flynn everything from the beginning, just as he had told it in an interrogation room an hour earlier. The President of course knew about what the assassin had done to her in her childhood, but she didn't interrupt him as he explained all the details for her advisers. He talked about how he'd first rescued Phineas and Ferb as children from a collapsing telephone pole, then stopped the assassin from kidnapping them and Isabella in an ice cream truck. From there, he explained how she'd managed to capture him and Perry, using them as bait until Phineas and Ferb tricked her into thinking she had succeeded. He expounded on how he'd found out the assassin was the Director of the CIA, and she was working for a group known as the Conspirium to overtake the whole government. At last, he played for them the lawyer's recording, which gave everything about his story tangible proof.

"All along, the Conspirium has been trying to control the affairs of the country through you," PJ told the President in conclusion. "Suzy Johnson claims to have been able to control you to benefit the Conspirium."

A dark look crossed President Flynn's face. "I'm ashamed. I would have never believed it myself if you hadn't told me. Director Johnson always seemed so sweet, even while we were younger. She's family. She's Candace's sister-in-law. I'm ashamed I trusted her."

"She acts sweet and innocent to get what she wants," PJ said. "It's not your fault, Madame President, she played us all. The best we can do now is find a nice prison cell where she won't be able to corrupt or influence anyone ever again."

"What about the Conspirium?" the Chief of Staff asked.

"Same goes for them," declared PJ. "But, that brings up one more thing Suzy said that worries me. She said the Conspirium has placed their people everywhere. Congress, the Supreme Court, Suzy herself was head of the CIA. The man from the Department of Homeland Security who interrogated me was part of it. I suspect Suzy has her people in the CIA that are included as well. We aren't just talking government leaders, here. Anybody could be part of this. We don't know who else we can trust at this point. Even members of your Cabinet might be involved."

The President sighed from behind her desk. "This could be the greatest crisis our nation has faced since the Cold War. PJ, your bringing this to my attention shows you were indeed the right man—er, person for the job."

PJ smiled slightly. He noticed she was careful to call him a 'person', something non-derogatory, being an anthropomorphic animal clone. Few cared to show him that sort of respect. He was grateful.

"Still," President Flynn added, "this does show just how tenuous the balance of power really is. As time travel becomes a more common avenue for not only espionage and scientific discoveries, but for people who want to move to a new time like you would move to a new house and even as a means of tourism as well, we need to be more careful of where—and when—things really do happen. Not to mention people like Suzy Johnson using it for their own purposes. The Conspirium is now on the top of our threat list."

The Commander in Chief rose from her chair. "I want to hold a strategy meeting this evening to discuss what we are going to do about the Conspirium. I'd like you to be there, PJ, as our newest expert on them. Tomorrow morning, we will hold a press conference to make their deeds public and bring the fight to them."

South Lawn of the White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington D. C.
0950 July 8, 2049

The President concluded her final remarks and took her seat as the lights and cameras of the media flashed a firestorm around her. PJ stood and was given a stool to stand on so he could look over the microphone as he spoke. He was surprised to discover at this moment that a fight with insurgents or getting sling-shot round the Moon was no more nerve-wracking than giving a speech after having been introduced by the President of the United States of America.

"Thank you," he squeaked nervously, but his voice was so quiet the microphone didn't catch it. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Thank you, Madame President." This time thunderous applause greeted him, and he was given a few more seconds to compose himself while the noise died down.

"Everything that the President has told you is true," he continued, trying to ignore the booming of his own voice over the loudspeakers. He swallowed again. "As she has already told you, we have averted a national crisis. I myself heard about this group, this 'Conspirium,' with my own two ears. This new menace has indeed been controlling much in the political system for some time now. But I can assure you, they will be weeded out! We will find these groups, and we will bring them to justice! Once we find the recently impeached Director of the CIA, Suzy Johnson, who went into hiding as soon as we uncovered her plot; we will make this world a safe place once again!" The explosion that met his ears was like a volcano as the crowd erupted in applause. PJ waited for them to finish before he continued.

"I'd like to read to you a letter I received from a friend a long time ago," he said, clearing his throat while smoothing out a neatly folded piece of paper on the podium. He scanned the hastily scrawled handwriting of a young boy one more time.

Dear PJ,

I can't thank you enough for all you did for us today. Even as I'm writing this before I go to bed, I have to listen while Ferb here keeps distracting me by going on and on about you. Why, besides Perry, I can't think of a single other platypus that has had that effect on him.

The reason I'm writing this is because I want you to know how much you mean to us. I suppose we probably won't see you again for a very long time, probably not until Ferb and I are all grown up. But you can trust that we will never forget who you are. You will always be our friend.

Since today is the Fourth of July, I want to share with you something meaningful that the Declaration of Independence has brought to my life. There is one phrase that gives me strength and hope when I look forward to an uncertain future (without the help of a time machine). It says, 'To secure our rights (life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness), governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government… But when a long train of abuses and usurpations... evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government and to provide new guards for their future security.'

I love the way the Declaration puts it. What it is saying is what I always say; to seize the day. The power to make a difference doesn't rest anywhere else but inside you and me. That principle has guided me all my life, and it will guide you when you are in self-doubt.

I learned today that even if our destiny seems laid out for us, we still have the power to choose. For that reason, freedom is one of our greatest and most precious gifts. I know you will continue to fight for that gift in the future, and whatever happens, we will always be great friends.

Sincerely,

Phineas Flynn

Signed July 4, 2014

"On second thought," PJ said after a long pause as he looked over the letter that in reality he'd only received a few days ago, "this may be a little too personal for me to share at this time. But if there was one thing I would have us all take from it, it is that our freedom is what brings us our greatest happiness. I know that the founders of this great nation knew that truth, and they were willing to fight to defend it when they signed the Declaration of Independence. We face a threat not unlike the one Thomas Jefferson described, one that is 'evincing a design to reduce us under absolute despotism'." He emphasized the last three words for effect. "But as long as this land remains free, if we will always be able to sustain that same courage the founders had in our own hearts, it will remain a land of liberty, forever. Thank you."

PJ ducked shyly away from the thunderstorm of applause to retake his seat before the reporters could shower him with questions. The President stood again and raised her hands to ask for silence. The crowd quieted down.

"As you can see, PJ the Platypus is a very determined individual," she stated. "He has proven himself a national hero, and for that I hereby award him with this—the Presidential Medal of Courage, and give him my personal gratitude for the services he has rendered our country."

The President turned to face PJ and flashed her famously beautiful smile while she beckoned him to come stand with her. He had to reset his slacken jaw before he arose to his feet and moved forward to accept the award. If a platypus could blush, he would have, but he accepted the medal with a salute to the Commander in Chief.

The audience rose to their feet to give him a standing ovation. He was a hero, now. At last, all these people looked past his outward appearance and saw his true self. They didn't look at him like a freak anymore. PJ didn't often weep, but on this occasion he had to blink several times to keep the water in his eyes at bay. He was glad he did. As soon as the blurriness was gone, he looked into the crowd and saw the lawyer, who had been the first to hear his story, clapping for him. Then, when he saw motion out of the corner of his eye, there was the First Gentleman, rising to greet his wife and PJ at the stand. His taller, quieter step-brother followed, as did the First Daughter. They all came forward to shake PJ's hand.

"Well done, PJ, well done," Phineas congratulated. Ferb nodded silently as well.

Marie, the teenage heartthrob of half the country with her mother's looks but her father's hair color, beamed at him. Isabella put an arm around her daughter's shoulder. "PJ, I am making you head of my investigative team that will seek out these new enemies. The responsibilities of finding the Conspirium and all others who look to overthrow our government will be put in your capable hands."

"I'm honored," PJ stammered.

"You are the best candidate, man or platypus, for the job," she insisted.

"Thank you."

"PJ," Phineas said, and for a moment, there was the face of the same creative, fun-loving, and adventurous boy PJ once knew. "Welcome home."

THE END

Epilogue

The one whose followers called him The King turned off the news feed with a snap of his finger. He rose from his throne and turned to the blonde haired woman kneeling before him. "The Conspirium has come to light, and our good President has made it clear she intends to hunt us down like hounds chasing after rabbits."

Suzy Johnson kept her head low in veneration, her sugary voice bathing his feet in a coating of honey. "Little do they know that we are the type of rabbits with swords for teeth, O My King."

"Yes," The King agreed. "And like rabbits, we grow stronger in numbers with each passing day. Soon, not even the full might of the United States of America will be able to stand up to us." His green eyes sparkled as he placed a hand under her chin and lifted, permitting her to rise. "When the fire and the ash and the smoke and the blood reach them in terror and horror, they will have no choice but to step aside and let me rule in their place. The people will soon learn of the great deception their own government has been hiding from them all these years, they will be ready to support a New King when the time is right."

"Surely, O King, what you speak is truth," Suzy whispered. "Not even that platypus has any idea what the new future has in store. Freedom is drawing its final breaths. The cancer of liberty has nearly killed the body, all that is left to do is to cut the malignancy out."

The King searched her face deeply before returning to sit upon his golden throne. Without warning, as if some private thought in the vectors of his mind amused him, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a sinister smile.

Final notes:

~The Department of Homeland Security program was created by George W. Bush after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. At the time of this writing, its temporary headquarters are in Washington D.C.'s Nebraska Avenue Complex. A new, permanent headquarters complex was planned to be completed by 2021 at the St. Elizabeths Hospital campus, but budgeting setbacks since the 2008 recession are expected to delay its opening. The architectural representation presented herein of this future building is in no way meant to be accurate or correct.

~All other historical facts regarding the Secret Service, former presidents of the United States, landmarks, the Declaration of Independence, and the events associated with the American War for Independence are accurately presented.

~The Presidential Medal of Courage is a fictional creation. It is loosely based off the Presidential Medal of Freedom, which is given to only those who have made "an especially meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, world peace, cultural or other significant public or private endeavors".

~Once again, I do not own "Phineas and Ferb" or any names, characters, or places associated with it. I do not own the DeviantArt characters Marie Flynn or Thomas Fletcher.