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Chapter Text

Perry

Really, "nemesis" is a blanket term. Yes, some can be pretty dangerous, but only the best recruits get assigned the least threatening nemeses. It sounds counterproductive, but it's to ensure that if the top agents are shipped off to stop a real threat, nothing bad will happen while we're gone.

Which brings me to my current situation.

"Ah, Perry the Platypus," Heinz Doofenshmirtz sneers as he walks up to the yellow cubic trap I'm "stuck" in from the shoulders down. "You cheddar watch your step!"

Heinz's puns are always groan-inducing, but this? I glance pointedly down at the trap. This one would have been easy enough to avoid - A big yellow X on the floor? Really? - but it makes Heinz happy to think he's starting out with the upper hand. If he's caught on to my little ruse by now, he hasn't mentioned it.

"I-I know you're not trapped in a block of cheddar cheese, but come on! You swiss watch your step. It doesn't work!" A grin spreads slowly across his lips. "It seems your plan to thwart me is…full of holes! Ha ha!"

Still not great, but it makes more sense thematically.

Heinz has been keeping one hand behind his back this whole time, and I'd like to know what he's hiding and what it has to do with swiss cheese. Major Monogram informed me that Heinz was spotted buying swiss cheese at the local grocer's. "I know that doesn't sound evil," the major said to me and my skepticism, "but he bought the store's entire supply. So, either he has no concern for his digestive health, or he's got something up his sleeve."

Funnily enough, I was joking with Pinky yesterday that Heinz's next scheme would involve filling in all the holes in swiss cheese. We'd both gotten a chuckle out of that.

"But, that's enough clever wordplay for one scheme," Heinz says. "So, you know how I hate a lot of things? Bellhops, taxi drivers… You remember that song." I do. "But, one thing I never told you I hated- I checked my notes, and this was not part of the song. Something I hate that you don't already know about...is swiss cheese. I-I will admit that I like the flavor of swiss cheese, but-but the concept really pushes my buttons. Look at that!" He gestures to the trap with his free hand and an aggravated expression. "Look at all those holes! It's like we're deliberately being served only part of the cheese. The cheese industry is ripping us off, Perry the Platypus!"

Is he… He's not going to…

"So, I started buying all the swiss cheese in the Tri-State Area so the stores couldn't rip us off when they sell it…but then I realized that I was getting stuck with it. My kitchen is full of the stuff! Do you like swiss cheese, Perry the Platypus? If so, help yourself when you leave. There's plenty," he adds with an eye roll at his own stupidity. "Anyway, after I found places to put all the cheese, I came up with a much better solution."

He finally reveals the object behind his back. It's a handheld ray gun that's pale yellow in color and shaped like a block of cheese with a little laser poking out of one end. He also unironically painted slightly darker spots on it, resembling holes.

With his free hand, he gestures grandly to it and shouts, "Behold! The fill-in-the-hole-inator! With this, I shall fill in the holes of every block of swiss cheese in the entire Tri-State-Area! That way, no one can get ripped off anymore."

I was joking.

Guys. Readers. When I told Pinky that filling in the holes of swiss cheese was Heinz's next scheme…I was joking.

Heinz is too busy rubbing his chin and examining his inator to notice my shock. "Now that I say it out loud, I realize that would be more beneficial than evil."

While he ponders that, I wiggle out of the trap; the hole is pinning my arms to my sides, but it isn't very tight.

"Maybe I could use it to fill in all the potholes on the streets! No. Wait. That would also benefit society. Hm… Well, I'm committed now-"

I cut him off with a punch to the face, knocking him on his back. Then I dive for the inator, but Heinz is closer and has longer arms. He grabs it and rolls to his feet, keeping his eyes on my movements the whole. He aims the inator at me but doesn't fire, only dodges my punches and kicks.

He's watching my movements instead of fighting back. And, there's a sharp intensity in his eyes that isn't normally there when we fight.

Any change in behavior is noteworthy, but this is especially true with evil scientists like Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Especially Heinz Doofenshmirtz. He isn't watching what I do so he can know when to dodge or where to strike.

He's observing me as though I am one of his machines and he's doing a test run of me.

I don't like it. It's out of character, and it makes me want to grind my teeth.

So, I stop playing.

I jump up and spin, slamming my tail into his side. He cries out in pain, the inator goes flying. I use my momentum to propel myself off of Heinz and higher into the air. I slap the inator with my tail, sending it careening into the linoleum floor. I land on my feet and wince internally when the inator shatters and launches a green blast into the air. It shoots past the balcony to parts unknown.

Heinz is laying on his side and lifts his head to look in the direction the blast went. "Well, something just got filled in. I hope someone was at least mildly inconvenienced by it."

I hope it didn't hit an innocent person and fill every orifice on their body. It's a blessing and a curse that I'm better at finding the evil applications of these inators than Heinz is sometimes.

But, there's nothing to be done about it now. Let's just pray that there isn't a news story about someone's orifices sealing shut for seemingly no reason. If there is, I'm going to take it out on Heinz during his next scheme.

Either way, my job is done.

"Hey, hold on, Perry the Platypus!" Heinz calls after me when I start to run to the balcony. I stop and turn around. He climbs to his feet and dusts off his lab coat. "I meant it when I said you could take some cheese with you. U-unless you're lactose-intolerant. But, I know platypuses sweat milk- Well, I know only the female platypuses sweat milk and only when they have babies to feed." He grimaces. "Which…is a weird mental image, you licking your own mother."

I roll my eyes because it's no weirder than a baby Heinz sucking on his mother's nipples. Oof. Now I have a weird mental image.

"But, I figure dairy is probably safe for you. So, could you maybe get rid of some of this for me? Like I said, there's so much of it. Wait until you see my kitchen!"

Anyone else would be leery of their nemesis offering them food. But, Heinz wouldn't try to poison me. Despite his villain persona, the man has a strict moral code. There are a lot of lines he would never cross, and poisoning is one of them. Besides, I'm off the clock now that the scheme has been thwarted. I can be a little more friendly.

Plus, I do like swiss cheese, holes and all. I could stick some in the break room at headquarters and maybe even sneak some into the refrigerator at home. Candace is lactose-intolerant, but Linda is going to be competing in a cheese-based cook-off next week.

I follow Heinz into the kitchen, and I can safely say that I've never so much cheese in one place before. Not counting the boys' Cheesetopia last summer, as I only saw that from the outside on the cameras.

There is swiss cheese on every table and countertop and even a bunch sitting on the floor. I'm certain that if I open the fridge and the cabinets and possibly the freezer, I will find more cheese.

I look up at Heinz in disbelief. He responds with a glare. "What? I told you there was a lot of it."

Yeah, but…seriously?

Heinz scoffs and shoves a plastic shopping bag in my hands. "Just take some, Perry the Judge-ypus."

Okay then.

I leap on to the counter - I refuse to grab it off the floor - and drop a few of the plastic-wrapped blocks into the bag. I spot a few labeled "Dairy-Free" and grab one for Candace.

The entire time, I feel Heinz's eyes on me. He should be rambling about what a "dummkopf" he is for buying all this. Or, pondering another cheese-based scheme just to find a use for it. Or, considering recipe options.

He. Is. Silent.

Heinz Doofenshmirtz doesn't do silence. There was only one time in our entire relationship when he didn't talk while I was here, and it was because he had laryngitis. He was furious that he had to write down his monologue for me, and naturally his scheme that day was to make everyone else unable to speak as well. And, he still tried to curse me on my way out. It sent him into a coughing fit. I stuck around to share ice cream and watch a movie with him to make him feel better.

That incident wasn't a red flag for me because Heinz wasn't silent by choice.

Now? My fur is standing on end.

"Is there a problem?" I ask over my shoulder. He can't understand me, but I can't stand the silence. Not when it comes from the most talkative person I know.

I don't miss the intensity in his gaze. Intensity that he tries to hide the moment I start looking. He waves off my chittering. "Don't mind me, Perry the Platypus. Just-just take your time."

Heinz wouldn't tamper with food or drink but, it might be a good idea to send this cheese to the lab as a precaution.

The bag is only a quarter-full, but I decide that it's enough. I hop back on to the floor and drag the human-sized bag behind me. I tip my hat to Heinz in a cautious thanks.

"You're welcome," he says. "You enjoy your cheese. Even though it's filled with holes and you could have had more of it if you hadn't destroyed my inator- You know, that really was a beneficial inator, wasn't it? Ah, well. You live and you learn."

I allow myself a small relieved breath. Heinz's rambling brings some comfort after the awkwardness in the kitchen, but that scene is going to stick out in my mind. What was that about?

While he's busy acting more like himself, I pull my hovercar key out of my hat and press a button to call Ramona to me. Her sleek white and teal paint gleams in the sunlight as she flies up to the balcony. Poor girl's gonna smell like cheese, though not as much as I do after being in that trap, but I can take care of both of those things once I get this bag to the lab.

I toss the bag into the trunk - sorry, Ramona - and get in the driver's seat. As I'm flying away, Heinz runs up to the balcony, crying out, "Oh, I almost forgot. Curse you, Perry the Platypus!"

Sweet normalcy. Too bad it's off-set by Heinz's strange behavior. He was watching me far too closely for my liking. I'll have to remain on guard.

The test results show that the cheese is harmless, so I leave some in the break room and take the rest home with me. After washing the smell off of Ramona and myself, of course.

Linda doesn't think much of the extra blocks of swiss, simply saying, "Wow. I bought more cheese than I thought!"

I'm sure Candace will be grateful for the dairy-free swiss once she's done sulking about the boys' invention disappearing.

Buford, Isabella, and Baljeet are staying for dinner, and everyone is crammed together at the table once the food is ready. Pinky the Chihuahua is here too. Both of our bowls are filled with our respective pet foods.

Phineas is the first to notice my return, announcing it with the usual, "Oh, there you are, Perry."

"Hey, gang," I say in response as I walk on all-fours to my bowl next to Pinky. He and I are the poster children for "mindless domestic pet." At least as far as our families know.

"I still can't believe it!" Buford whines. "We finally make a bread bowl hot tub, and what happens? Right as we're about to fill it with chili, a random green ray from the sky swoops in and seals the hole on the top! Then it's just a big wad of bread!"

Oh, thank God that ray didn't hit a person! Just the fact that it came that close to hitting one of the kids makes me shudder. Though, Heinz would be happy to know that the stray shot mildly inconvenienced someone.

"I still do not understand why you had to roll it away," Baljeet says. "Could we not have simply cut out a new hole?"

"It's the principle," Buford insists.

I tune out the rest of the conversation when Pinky gives me a curious sniff and asks, "Why do you smell like cheese?"

Damn it. I thought I washed that off. Then again, dogs are famous for their sense of smell. "Funny story about that. You know how I made that joke about Doofenshmirtz filling in the holes in swiss cheese?"

Pinky's eyes widen, and his ears perk up. "He didn't."

"He did." Nothing more needs said.

That's the beauty of the humans not knowing what we're saying. Pinky and I can discuss these things in public without blowing our covers.

Pinky huffs a disbelieving growl. "Aye caramba! That's the third time this happened!" To add insult to injury, he checks examples off on his paw. "First, you joked that he would force you to be his butler if he could; two days later, he brainwashed you into thinking you were his butler. Next, you joked that if he got laryngitis, he would be so pissed about not speaking that he would make it so no one else could speak either. Which he attempted to do a week later. Now the cheese thing!" Pinky eagerly wags his tail. "Make another joke at his expense, Perry!"

I grimace and shrink back a little. "No way! I'm terrified that I'll be right!"

Pinky laughs and digs into his food. I start eating out of my own bowl and let the friendly conversation among the humans drown out my thoughts.

Until Pinky continues our own conversation. "Doofenshmirtz is pretty wacky, isn't he? Poofenplotz is crazy, but at least I can count on all her schemes being centered around her looks or her popularity. Based on what you've told me, Doofenshmirtz sounds like someone you just can't predict." My friend since the Academy doesn't bother fighting his giggles. "I think it's both impressive and hilarious that you can predict his schemes like that!"

I huff and roll my eyes. "I think it just means I'm due for a vacation." Then I recall Heinz's strange behavior today and add, "That being said, Doofenshmirtz surprises me more often than you think. You're right to call him unpredictable."

And, I have a feeling that Heinz is up to something I won't see coming.

Heinz

It all started one week ago.

I was having evil scientist's block, so I did what any struggling evil scientist would do; research my nemesis's species. In this case, the ornithorhynchus anatinus. Also known as the platypus.

I learned some interesting things. Their diet consists mostly of worms, insects, and small crustaceans, which explains why Perry the Platypus always orders shrimp when we go out to eat and it's on the menu. They share DNA with mammals, birds, and reptiles. The babies are called puggles. The females feed their young by sweating milk. They don't have stomachs. They don't have teeth either (yet Perry the Platypus does?). The oldest living platypus on record was twenty-four years old, and the average lifespan of a platypus in the wild is ten to twelve years.

That made me stop researching, wonder how old Perry the Platypus is, and I did not cry!

All very interesting. Some disturbing. One downright depressing. But, there was one fun fact that stood out to me: poisonous ankle barbs.

Now, I already knew about those from an incident with a platypus hunter and lovely platypus I called Steven. (I wonder whatever happened to Steven.) However, it occurred to me that Perry the Platypus never used his ankle barbs in our fights. I'm not complaining. Apparently, the venom is powerful enough to kill small animals and cause excruciating pain in a full-grown human, so I'm definitely not complaining. My best guess was that Perry the Platypus is too nice of a guy to hurt me like that, which I greatly appreciated.

Then I remembered that I've grabbed his ankles more than once when we were fighting and never felt anything pointy or painful there.

Then I read that only the males have ankle barbs.

I was mortified, thinking that I had been misgendering my nemesis all these years. The next time I saw "him," I apologized over and over for thinking "he" was a boy and asking why "he" never corrected me. When I saw how confused he was, I mentioned that I found that only the males had ankle barbs and I'd realized that "he" didn't have any. Perry the Platypus was kind enough - or desperate to not actually be misgendered - that he caught my attention and mimed writing something down. I gave him a pen and notebook so he could explain.

He has lovely penmanship, by the way.

It turns out that Perry the Platypus did have poisonous ankle barbs once. Alas, when he was still in training, he developed some platypus illness called "venom displacement." A very rare and very dangerous illness that causes the platypus's venom to seep into his own body. Perry the Platypus had to have his ankle barbs and venomous glands surgically removed as a result. He was hospitalized for two weeks and had to spend another week recovering. He missed so much training that he had to take remedial courses to catch up with his peers.

I was pretty bitter about it, Perry the Platypus had written, but it ended up being a blessing in disguise. My instructor was phenomenal, and I swear I learned more in those remedial classes than I did in my normal ones!

Two things happened the day he told me about this. First off, Perry the Platypus had told me one of his backstories! He'd never done that before! I was so excited that I didn't even notice he'd escaped my trap!

The second thing was that I realized that even with the research I did, I didn't really know anything about platypuses.

After that - well, after Perry the Platypus thwarted my scheme and I instructed Norm to clean up the resulting mess - I scoured the internet for information. I wasn't merely looking up fun facts this time. No, I was serious. I wanted to know everything. Biology. Natural habitat. Possible diseases (I figured venom displacement wouldn't be an issue anymore, but you never know). If it was platypus-related, I wanted to know about it.

Before I knew it, I was down a rabbit hole - or, dare I say, a platypus burrow - of nature websites and YouTube videos and an adorable plushie or two. Or, seven. Coming in the mail.

Don't judge me.

I learned a lot, but there's still something I don't understand. No matter where I looked, there was no information on how they can switch between quadrupedal and bipedal. Nor, how they can safely eat things like ice cream and chicken breast. Nor, why other platypuses don't have teeth but Perry the Platypus does (unless he has dentures). I also don't know how they can do kick-flips and operate complex machinery when everywhere I turn, so-called experts are saying that platypuses "don't do much."

Bah. Bah, I say!

But, the more I studied, the more I wondered if those so-called experts were on to something. Every video I watched showed platypuses digging holes or swimming or adorably losing their balance and rolling into the water. And, isn't it odd that no one talks about platypuses fighting unless it's to mention the ankle barbs? Platypuses have a shocking amount of predators, so you would think they'd all have fighting skills like Perry the Platypus. I don't expect them to be on his level - they can't all be secret agents - but surely they have a few tactics that don't involve venom! What about the males like Perry the Platypus who lost their venom? Or, the females who start out with poisonous barbs but lose them when they get older (which is totally unfair, by the way)? They have to defend themselves somehow!

Yet, as far as the internet is concerned, platypuses are cute but brainless creatures who just happen to be poisonous or sweat milk, depending on their gender.

It makes no sense.

Yesterday I decided to pay more attention to the way Perry the Platypus moves and acts. But, I must have been too obvious, because his glares and "krkrkrkrkr" sound were oozing suspicion. I need to observe platypuses who aren't Perry the Platypus so I can compare.

That's why I find myself at the Danville Zoo, stationed in front of the platypus habitat. I've been standing here for an hour - my feet hurt, but the nearest bench is too far from the enclosure for me to still get a good look - but so far I haven't seen much. The most interesting thing that happened was the light teal platypus getting stuck under a cardboard box and running around in a panic until the brown platypus knocked the box off of her with his bill.

I know their genders because there's a sign revealing that the teal one is a female named Junie and the brown one is a male named Brutus. There's also a covered up portion of the sign, implying that there was another platypus, but it must have passed away.

Not. Thinking. About. Perry's. Age.

I am so bored. Junie is napping in a shady spot under a tree, but Brutus sits there, looking at me with that vacant, wall-eyed stare that isn't anything like Perry the Platypus's laser-focus.

"I can't take it anymore!" I shout. I point angrily to Brutus since he's the one paying attention. "Why won't you do anything? Don't sit there with your head tilted like you don't know what I'm saying! Do a backflip! Run around on two legs! Do something!"

Brutus stands up on all-fours, spins around, lifts his tail…and takes a dump right in front of me.

My disgust is quickly replaced with annoyance. "Okay, that was just rude! You are rude!"

He walks away, laughing at me. I know he's laughing because his chittering sounds exactly like Perry the Platypus's laughter. Except it's at my expense. Which it sometimes is when Perry the Platypus does it, but that's not the point!

I point angrily again as Brutus joins Junie in the shade. "Don't act all mindless! I know you did that on purpose!"

"Uh…"

I lower my hand and turn my head. There's a woman in a zookeeper uniform standing next to me.

"Can I help you?" she asks cautiously.

"Yes. Yes, you can," I inform. "You can give a stern talking-to to that Brutus fellow in there. He has absolutely no manners! My nemesis is a platypus, and he has the decency to use the toilet!"

The zookeeper makes a face like she wants to be somewhere else, but she remains professional. "These are wild animals. We have no control over what they do. Besides," she gestures with both hands to the habitat, "you're looking at platypuses. They don't do much to begin with."

"'Don't do much.'" I mock. "I am getting so sick of hearing that! You should see my nemesis when he gets going!"

The zookeeper takes a step back. "Sir, unless you have a genuine question about platypuses-"

I wave my hands in front of me, stopping her from leaving. "Wait! Wait! I do have a question." She looks at me expectantly. "Do platypuses have, like, a dormant mode and an attack mode? Is that why these ones aren't doing anything? Are they in dormant mode?"

The zookeeper just stares at me before walking away, saying, "I think you watch too many cartoons."

"But-but-but-"

My stammering is ignored.

Could it be true? Could platypuses really…not do much? Then, what does that say about Perry the Platypus? He does, well, everything! He's like a human being but two feet tall and covered in fur and has a duck bill and a beaver tail and-

Okay, physically he is nothing like a human being, but he's basically the same on the inside! Not biologically, considering the venom and the fact that platypuses don't have stomachs-

The point is that Perry the Platypus is highly skilled and intelligent, and from what I've seen, other platypuses are…not. (With Steven being the exception, though I'm starting to wonder if he is a secret agent as well.)

What makes Perry the Platypus so unique? It can't just be his secret agent training, can it? I've seen and learned enough to know that it can't possibly be that simple. There must be more to it than good teachers. If platypuses aren't naturally suave personifications of unstoppable dynamic fury - or at the very least, capable of literally finding their way out of a cardboard box - then no amount of training could make one as competent as my nemesis.

A casual survey of the enclosure has me asking, "Hey, where's Brutus?" as the platypus in question has disappeared. "Ah, whatever. He's rude anyway." I cup my hands around my mouth and call out to Junie, who is now awake and looking at me with that blank expression, "I hope he's not your husband, Junie, because you could do so much better!"

Behind me, I hear a little boy say, "Mommy, why is that man yelling at the animals?"

"Just ignore him, Billy," his mother replies.

I should probably go before I embarrass myself any worse.

But, I know what I'm gonna do tomorrow. I'm gonna learn what makes Perry the Platypus tick.

Chapter Text

Perry

After lifting my pet bed and jumping into the hidden passage beneath, I land in my chair in front of the monitor. Heinz doesn't always have two evil schemes back to back, so either he's in one of his moods, this is about something else, or it's a false alarm. Given Heinz's strange behavior yesterday, I suspect the first one.

Major Francis Monogram appears on the monitor. "Greetings, Agent P. We've just received word from your father that Doofenshmirtz spent an unusual amount of time at his and your mother's habitat."

Heinz was at the zoo? Why didn't Dad call me? More importantly, could this be related to Heinz's quiet observance of me?

Monogram misinterprets my expression. "Your father assures us that his cover is intact, but he requests that you contact him personally for more information." Monogram huffs in disdain. "As if I'm not perfectly capable of relaying a message. But, far be it from me to stand between a man and his only child. I know I'd hate it if someone stood between me and Monty. So, contact your father immediately and put a stop to whatever evil Doof is plotting."

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

I salute my superior and hang up the video call. Then, I contact my father on the same monitor.

Brutus the Platypus - codename: Agent B - must still be in his enclosure, as I can see stone and part of a tree branch behind him. Since he's not in his lair, I assume Mom's going to be on this call as well. Mom doesn't like going into Dad's lair, claiming that "those shiny weapon thingies" make her nervous. Since she is your average born-in-captivity zoo animal, there's rarely a reason for her to go down there anyway.

Those brown eyes I inherited are narrowed and all business. An unusual sight when I'm the one he's talking to, but not unexpected under these circumstances.

"Hey, son," Dad greets. "I assume the bossman contacted you."

"You could have contacted me first," I point out. "I know you have to report this kind of thing, but even so."

Dad shrugs. "You said it yourself. Gotta report it."

Fair enough.

"Is that Perry?" Mom's voice asks. Dad softens considerably before Mom's orange bill and wall-eyed blue gaze take up the screen. "Perry? Hi, sweetie!"

I grin and wave. "Hey, Mom. Have you made any progress with the Enrichment Box?"

Ever since the zookeepers stuck a giant cardboard in the enclosure as a toy, Mom's made it her mission to "learn how it works." We're at the point where I genuinely believe that the term "Enrichment Box" should be capitalized.

"Your father only had to rescue me once today!" Mom boasts.

Dad chuckles and gives the top of her head a scratch. "Junie, can you move so I tell our son about his nemesis?"

"Oh, yeah!" Mom chirps. "Perry, that Doofyshots guy was here! I couldn't understand a word he was saying, but your father thinks it's suspicious."

"It's pronounced Doofenshmirtz, Mom." I swipe my hand to the side. "Can you get out of the frame so I can talk to Dad properly?"

"Sorry!"

Mom's light teal face is replaced with Dad's amused brown one. But, his amusement at Mom's antics quickly fades. "As you're aware," Dad begins, "most visitors don't stick around the platypus exhibit for too long, seeing as your mom and I don't do all that much."

There's a flash of grief that implies, Especially not now that Marcus is gone. I liked Marcus. He was a sweet, goofy old platypus who loved sandwiches and once defeated Heinz in my stead completely by accident. I couldn't stop laughing when I saw the video, and Marcus bragged about it constantly when I told him what happened.

Dad and I shake it off, and he keeps talking. "Eventually, Doofenshmirtz screamed at me to do something interesting. So, I did." He smirks, and I decide not to ask. "But, then he asked one of our zookeepers why we don't do backflips and the like. He didn't use your name, but he went on about how impressive you were compared to other platypuses. Now, you know your nemesis better than I do, but to me it all seemed kind of suspicious."

I rub my chin, going over new information and old. "He was acting pretty weird during our last encounter. Well, weird for him. Thanks for letting me know, Dad."

"No problem, son."

A shriek in the background draws Dad's attention to the right. "Help!" Mom screams. "Help! It's dark! Help!"

Dad and I fight laughter. "Now if you'll excuse me," Dad chitters, "I need to get your mother out of the Enrichment Box again." He ends the call with a hearty salute. "Agent B, out."

I salute back, and my mother's shrieks are cut off by the call ending.

I sprint to where Ramona is parked and waiting for me. I hop into her driver's seat and take flight.

The whole way to the Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated building, I ponder my nemesis. Whatever he's doing must have something to do with me. If not me, then with platypuses as a whole. I recall the time he turned himself into a platypus so he could fight me on equal ground and wonder if this next scheme is similar.

I wouldn't mind. That was one of my favorite of our fights. Right up there with the double dutch machine (I was very impressed with us for being able to fight while jumping rope) and sword fighting with hot dogs and bratwurst (that one was so ridiculous, I can't not think back on it with a smile).

Yet, I can't shake this nagging feeling that something bigger and less cartoony is at play.

I park Ramona on the balcony and step out of the driver's seat. I scan my surroundings. The first thing I see is one of Heinz's more, shall we say, decorative inators. It is an enormous green, wrinkly, ugly human head with a ray gun barrel sticking out of its mouth. That's, um, disturbing.

It's also the only sign that Heinz was here recently. He always leaves a note for me if he knows he won't be home when I get here, even if he isn't certain I'm coming that day. Yet, there is no note. There's no sign of Norm either, though he did mention a date with that robot girl, Chloe, and that I shouldn't tell his "father" about it.

I walk forward, careful where I plant my feet, vigilant of potential traps or a Drusselstinian in a lab coat. But, just like the aftermath of yesterday's scheme, the place is eerily silent.

"Heinz?" I call out as a test.

No response. My instincts are screaming at me. The last time Heinz didn't respond to me, he had hit his head while working on one of his inventions and given himself a concussion.

My steps become a little less cautious, which could be my downfall, but I'd rather fall into a trap than risk leaving my best friend injured and alone.

Yeah, my nemesis is my best friend. Sue me.

"Heinz?" I call again, louder this time. "Paging Dr. Doofenshmirtz!"

Nothing. Tell me he didn't give himself another concussion! Or, third degree burns. Or, smash one or both of his prosthetic arms. He tends to do things like that.

If he turned himself into a moth again, I swear to god…

I restart breathing when I find him in his office, totally human (thank the Lord) and hunched over his desk, typing away on the computer.

"Heinz?" I chitter.

Heinz jumps ten feet and whirls around in his swivel chair, slapping his hand over his heart. "Perry the Platypus?" He lowers his hand, resting both of them in his lap. "What are you doing here? I don't have anything evil planned for the day."

Don't let him see how worried you were. Be professional. Put your hands on your hips. Tilt your brow. Frown skeptically.

Nailed it. Heinz scowls and grunts. "This is about the platypuses, isn't it? Francis told you I was harassing the platypuses at the Danville Zoo. I bet he even used the word 'harrassing.'" He crosses his arms. "Well, rest assured, Perry the Platypus, that no members of your species were harmed by my trip to the zoo. Now, me on the other hand. Ugh!" He balls his hands into fists that shake with his frustration. "You should have seen what that male platypus did. That Brutus fellow. Actually, no. I'm glad you didn't see it! It would have made you embarrassed to be a platypus!"

Nope. Not gonna ask.

Instead, I point to the object sitting next to Heinz's desk. It's a large unfinished machine with wires and circuitry totally visible and is currently the size and shape of a bathtub.

"Oh, that?" Heinz says, following my gaze. "That's just my bad-idea-inator." He drums his fingers together with a wicked grin. "It gives whomever it hits a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea, and they will be compelled to enact it!"

Oh, my. That has some very evil implications attached-

"But, as you can see, it isn't ready yet. Not only do I need to finish, you know, actually building it, but I need to make certain that no one will try to kill someone or…or kill themself. I'm evil, not a monster."

That knocks a few fears off the list, but it will definitely be an inator to watch out for.

I look past Heinz at the computer, but he not-so-subtly turns off the monitor. Huh.

He stands up and bends over to usher me into the hallway. "Why don't I walk you out? Sorry you had to come here for no reason. There will be a scheme to foil next time, I promise."

What is on the computer that he doesn't want me to see? I'd bet my boys' college funds that it has something to do with platypuses.

I am led back into the main room and toward the balcony, and the giant green head comes back into view.

"What? Why did you stop?"

Why does he think? I glare up at him and point to the creepy head stationed there.

"Oh, that's my shrunken-head-inator," Heinz says like it's the most normal thing in the world. And, that's coming from an anthropomorphic crime-fighting platypus. "It turns whatever it hits into a shrunken head! It-it doesn't shrink people's heads- Er, I guess it might if-if someone got hit in the head with it. But, it's purpose is to turn things into those little head-shaped trinkets that are all wrinkly and hideous. There's a whole backstory behind it, but I haven't polished off my monologue yet. I've been a little preoccupied with researching…" He trails off, biting his lip and rubbing his arm and looking anywhere but at me. "Eh, let's just say what started as a casual curiosity…has quickly morphed into an obsession. I'm sure I'll have a whole new backstory by the time it's over. But, for now, you can go home. I have a feeling I won't be doing anything evil until I get this obsession out of the way. So, curse you and all that. Toodles!" he adds with a finger wave.

I hate everything about this.

Before heading home, I pay my parents a visit, partly because I know Dad will want me to fill him in. I could easily do that over our communicators, but it's been too long since I had the opportunity to hang out with my parents.

The enclosure mimics a somewhat swampy forest, with plenty of coverage from rocks and plant life. Perfect for hiding Dad's lair entrances. Equally perfect for Mom to find different places to nap; she knows where the lair entrances are and how to avoid them.

I park Ramona behind a large stone, nestling her between that and the high brick walls surrounding the habitat. There's also plenty of shrubbery and a large tree that blocks the view from above. No one should be able to see my hovercar from back here.

I messaged my father on the way, and he walks over bipedal to greet me as I step out of the vehicle. We share a quick hug before getting straight to business.

"Give me the scoop, son," Dad says while adjusting his gray fedora.

I start to speak, but my mother's joyous cry of "Peeeerrrryyyyy!" interrupts me.

I hold out my arms as a light teal platypus launches herself at me. Mom can't stand up the way Dad and I can, so she hugs me by throwing herself forward and letting me grab her and lift her in my arms.

"Nice to see you too, Mom," I chuckle.

I set her down, and she places her paws on Ramona's driver side door. "Ooh! You brought your flying machine!"

"Careful, Junie," Dad cautions. "Remember what happened last time you got too close to a hovercar."

One time Mom accidentally took Dad's hovercar for a joyride. I heard about it when I came over for a visit and found Mom cowering in a burrow.

"I know, Brutus," Mom assures. "I know." She sits on her haunches and looks up at me expectantly. "Tell us about Dr. Doppleshorts. Did I get that right?"

"Dr. Doofenshmirtz, Mom," I correct. "And, there isn't much to tell. Nothing concrete, at least."

I tell my parents what happened with Heinz today, leaving out no details. Dad listens with rapt attention. Mom, I believe, is getting a third of this at best.

"Whatever he's 'obsessed' with," I conclude, "it's definitely platypus-related. Might even have something to do with me specifically. I should have stayed to find out what was on that computer, but I didn't want to give away my suspicions."

Dad nods with his arms crossed. "If I were you, I'd sneak in tonight and search his browser history."

"Already thought of that," I say. "The problem is that Doofenshmirtz is real good about deleting that stuff. He may be an idiot, but he's a smart idiot, you know? I'm thinking I'll get Pinky on it. He does still owe me after I fought his nemesis for him so he could stay with Isabella when she had the flu."

Mom tilts her head. "Pinky's your dog friend, right? The guy who shakes all the time?"

"That's him. He's one of the best hackers in the agency. He could rob the IRS blind if he wanted to."

"Uh-huh," Mom chitters even though she has no idea what I just said.

Dad points at my wrist-com. "Better call him then. You're not leaving this habitat until I see you do it."

I suppress an eye roll. "I'm not a child, Dad."

But, I call Pinky anyway. The chihuahua answers after a few rings. Wherever he is, it's dark and he appears to be squeezed under something. "Make it quick, Perry. The Fireside Girls are setting up for their pet grooming patches."

"I'm calling in that favor, Pinky," I say. "Do you think you could access Doofenshmirtz's browser history for me?"

Pinky snorts. "Is my favorite ball buried under that tree outside? Seriously, is it? I can't find it anywhere."

"Pinky."

"Yeah, I can do that. Anything in particular you're looking for? And, how far back should I go?"

I consider that question. "It would be pretty recent. I know he's doing something with platypuses, but maybe check for anything that seems out of place."

Pinky gives me a flat look. "Perry, Doofenshmirtz switches between normal evil and total nonsense at the drop of a hat. I'm confident that his entire browser history would seem out of place to both of us!"

He's not wrong. "Think you could send me a list from, say, the past week?"

"That I can do. I'll work on it as soon as the grooming's over."

"Thanks, Pinky," I say. "Consider us even."

I hear Isabella say, "Hey, where's Pinky?" in the background.

Pinky says to me, "Gotta go. Expect results some time tonight. Over and out."

I salute him as he breaks the connection. Then I say to my father, "You know I would have done that as soon as I got home, right?"

"Well, I should hope so," Dad replies. "You've got the skills, son, but you sometimes forget that you're not the only one working for OWCA."

His tone is teasing, but it still irks me a little. "Hey, I've been working on the whole 'teamwork' thing since my mission in Canada."

"Just remember." Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. "If nothing else, I've got your back. I'm not getting any younger, but I haven't retired yet!"

There's no fighting the smile on my bill. "I know, Dad. And, you know it goes both ways."

"What about me?" Mom chitters, doing a spin and jutting out her bill. "I can do things! Not secret agent things, but I can dig a mean hole!"

Not wanting my mother to feel left out, I bend down to give her chin a nice scratch. "You provide the emotional support, Mom. It may not stop bad guys, but it keeps me and Dad motivated."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Dad says.

"Well, as long as I'm helping," Mom says. She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. "Now that that's out of the way, I hope you plan on staying, sweetie. There's a lovely tree we could all lay under."

I check my watch and note that the rest of my family won't be expecting me home for a while. "What the heck? I've got some time."

Besides, platypuses are so "boring" that nobody pays that much attention to the habitat unless it's to clean it or bring food. I always hide when a zookeeper comes around during my visits, but I'm not that concerned about being seen.

Dad and I ditch our fedoras and assume the traditional mindless personas as we follow Mom to her current favorite nap spot.

A lot of agents are shocked to hear that my mother is an ordinary platypus, but story goes that my father got some flack for it. His top agent status kept the taunting from being too bad, but nine out of ten of his co-workers, including Major Monogram, were stunned when Dad took a non-agent as his wife. Such things aren't unheard of, but they're uncommon enough to raise eyebrows, particularly with someone as respectable as Agent Brutus the Platypus.

What makes OWCA agents unique is that there is a certain level of genetic modification that makes us stronger and smarter than other members of our species. This has the unfortunate side effect of breeding with unmodified animals being exceedingly rare. The resulting child surviving the womb or egg was once thought to be impossible. Supposedly, I am the first half-agent baby in OWCA's history to make it into the world. It turned into a whole thing, but I was too young and blind and deaf to remember any of it.

When it was announced that Mom had laid an egg and the puggle inside wasn't going anywhere, nobody knew how I would turn out. Would I be as ordinary as my mother? Would I inherit my father's superior genetics? It ended up being the latter, which put me far ahead of my fellow trainees despite my much younger age.

Until the venom displacement set me back, but that's another story.

That being said, I never felt any pressure to be an agent. Neither my father nor my mother would have cared if I wanted to live my life as a zoo animal. Being an agent was something I wanted from the moment I learned what my father did. I heard his stories and saw his lair and machinery, and I never looked back.

Now I'm a top agent just like my old man, and you better believe I take pride in that.

I will say, though, that there is one benefit to being a zoo animal: not getting attached to the humans around you. Mom and Dad have their favorite zoo keepers, but my parents don't cherish the zoo keepers the way I do my host family. Mom and Dad don't have to feel the constant sting of not being able to share your stories with the ones you hold so tightly in your heart. I've long since come to terms with it, but when I'm at my worst, when my job starts to wear on me, I'd give anything to open up to the Flynn-Fletchers, Phineas and Ferb in particular.

But, rules are rules and it is what it is. At least I have my parents and friends like Heinz Doofenshmirtz (though there's a lot I can't tell him), Pinky Garcia-Shapiro, and Frieda the Flamingo to talk to.

Speaking of Frieda, the flamingo enclosure happens to be right next to the platypus one. And, lucky for us, the shady spot Mom leads me and Dad to is on top of a flat stone, giving us a sort of view of my parents' neighbors.

"Having a family reunion, I see," Agent F calls out. "Why wasn't I invited?"

"'Cause we hate you," Dad chirps.

He's kidding. He and Frieda are like me and Pinky in that they've known each other since training, remained friends, and somehow ended up as next door neighbors. (Although, technically Pinky lives across the street from me.) I've known Frieda my whole life.

Frieda ignores Dad's comment and says to me, "Hey, Perry! Did you know your nemesis was here earlier?"

I stretch out my whole body and let myself get comfortable despite the unease the reminder sets in my stomach. "I'm looking into that. A friend of mine is gonna check his browser history for me. That should give me a better idea of what's going on."

"Or, it won't. Remember when you were busting those human traffickers and I had to deal with Doofenshmirtz?" Frieda ruffles her feathers in exasperation. "I only met him that one time, but I'm certain he has either ADHD or some form of psychosis. Or, both!"

It always bothers me when people talk bad about my nemesis. Granted, they aren't always wrong, but they don't know Heinz like I do. "He isn't that bad," I say, hoping my irritation doesn't show. "He's just…himself."

I can't think of a better way to describe him.

Mom huffs and calls to our family friend, "Frieda, stop making my son talk shop!" That's a phrase Mom picked up from Dad. "He's going to relax before he has to go home and think about Dr. Doonklespots again."

I start to correct Mom, but multiple screams from the flamingo habitat stop me.

"Dinner time!" all the flamingos not named Frieda chant. "Dinner time! Dinner time! Dinner time!"

Over and over in an unsynchronized cacophony. I fight the need to break my cover by throwing my hands over my ear holes. That's the problem with ordinary flamingos; they are loud when they want to be. How can Mom and Dad and the surrounding animals stand it? How can Frieda stand it? I guess, being a flamingo herself, she can put up with it better.

"I guess dinner's here," Frieda screams over the others while rolling her eyes fondly. "I better get some before it's gone. You three enjoy yourselves."

Pinky texts me that night as promised, letting me know that he emailed me Heinz's browser history from the past week. And that it will take me a while to work through, which I expected.

I sneak down to my lair, determined to get through the list before the boys go to bed. They'll worry if I don't go to bed with Phineas and wake up with Ferb like I do every night.

I log on to my computer and pull up the list Pinky sent me. It's as long and random as I expected.

Some things make sense. Machine part orders. Prescription refills. How to connect with your teenage daughter. Swiss cheese recipes. Back braces.

Some things only make sense for Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Shrunken heads. Whether or not the chicken came before the egg. What to do if you suspect your robot is dating your sworn enemy's robot. (Gonna have to warn Norm about that one.)

As I suspected, however, there is an alarming number of searches in regards to platypuses. Most of it is nature websites, YouTube videos, and seven plushies in various shades of teal with the additional purchase of seven tiny brown fedoras and a new sewing kit (choosing to ignore that). The things he typed into the search bar do nothing to ease my paranoia. "How do platypuses stand on two legs?" "Can platypuses have teeth naturally?" "How do platypuses defend themselves without venom?"

On and on. Searches that aren't about platypuses as a species…but can only be about one platypus in particular.

After going over the whole list, I still have no idea what Heinz is up to. Whatever it is, I can already tell it isn't going to be like that time he turned himself into a platypus. This seems more personal than that.

I realize what time it is and race back to the house before the boys wonder where I am, but I know I won't get any sleep tonight.

Chapter Text

Heinz

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Francis," I beg, pacing my living room with the landline to my ear. "I'm not asking for classified information. I just want to know how Perry the Platypus became so 'ass-bad,' as the kids say. That is what the kids say, right?"

"First of all," Francis Monogram says on the other line, "how should I know what the kids say? And second, anything regarding an agent's training, personal life, or genetic modification is one hundred percent classified. Frankly, I don't know why I'm still talking to you-"

"Genetic modification?"

Francis makes a noise like he thinks I'm an idiot. It's a noise I hear a lot from him and other people who talk to me. Perry the Platypus does it too, but his cute little "krkrkr" makes it sound different coming from him. "Really, Heinz?" Francis mocks. "It's not a secret. You don't think these animals just leap out of the womb acting like people, do you?"

"...Maybe?"

Francis is silent for so long that I think he hung up until, "The only reason I'm telling you this is because it isn't classified. The goal of the O.W.C.A. is to give animals a second chance. Our scientists find young animals who are dying of sickness or injury, and the modifications save their lives."

As an evil scientist, this new knowledge shouldn't give me any respect for the Organization Without a Cool Acronym. Alas, there is a difference between good evil and bad evil, and I am strictly the former. Plus, this implies that someone over at OWCA saved my best friend's life, and I am infinitely grateful to whomever they are.

I stop pacing at the sobering thought. "So, you're telling me that Perry the Platypus was…dying?" I almost ask if it was the venom displacement, but then I remember that that happened after he started training.

Francis doesn't answer right away. "Let's just say that no one expected him to survive the egg. That's all you're getting, so don't bother asking for more."

He hangs up while I'm still processing all of this.

Very early on in his life, Perry the Platypus almost breathed his final breath. If he wasn't expected to even survive his egg… Well, I'm not sure what that implies. His mother or father could have had some sort of medical problem. Or, Perry the Platypus could have been incubating for longer or for less time than he should have been, and that's why no one thought he would make it. Or, perhaps his embryo didn't develop properly. Was he born with a lot of deformities?

How did OWCA find him? Were his parents agents who brought their egg to the lab to be saved? Or, was baby Perry lucky enough that some agents were nearby at the time?

After that phone call, I have no doubt that Francis will be paranoid enough to send Perry the Platypus my way. Works for me, because I really need to talk to my old frenemy about this.

Perry the Platypus must have been in the area, because I only have to wait about two minutes for him to drop in from the vent near the ceiling. He lands in my living room in the usual knees-bent-one-hand-on-the-floor pose. He looks like a kick-butt secret agent and not at all like someone who nearly died as a newborn baby if not sooner.

"Hello, Perry the Platypus," I greet with an awkward wave. "How's it going? How have you been?"

My nemesis is unimpressed with my desperate attempt at nonchalance. I don't blame him for standing upright just so he can cross his arms and give me one of those looks of his.

Better get this over with. "So, you know that obsession I told you about? The truth is, I…I've been wondering about you."

Only someone as familiar with Perry the Platypus as I am would notice the shift in his posture. When Perry the Platypus is uncomfortable - in the emotional sense, not the "this trap is uncomfortable" sense - his shoulders draw inward the teeny-tiniest bit. It's as if he's trying to make himself smaller while still keeping his guard up.

He's waiting for me to elaborate, so I do. "See, I've been wondering how you can be so suave and intelligent and ass-bad," his brow tilts at that, "when other members of your species are not. U-unless they're agents, but-but I know they can't all be agents. Because apparently only animals who are on the brink of death become agents, so unless platypuses are constantly dying off…"

Something occurs to me then. Does Perry the Platypus know he's been genetically modified? He must know that he almost died either at birth or as an embryo, but does he know how he survived? He had no reaction to my mention of dying animals becoming agents, and Francis said it wasn't a secret, but…

I can't just not tell Perry the Platypus. He deserves to know. It's his body, for Pete's sake! He needs to know if there's something unusual about it.

I need to tread carefully. This information could be a real shock to his system.

Perry the Platypus watches with a cautious interest as I drop down on my knees to get closer to his level. "Perry the Platypus, I'm going to tell you something that is really going to throw you for a loop. You-you might want to sit down."

Perry the Platypus's stoicism fades a bit when he sees how serious I am. He gets a little closer before sitting cross-legged in front of me, a position no ordinary platypus could sit in, I'm sure.

"Brace yourself, Perry the Platypus, 'cause this is big. You see, I was talking to Major Monogram about you, and while he refused to give me the specifics," I add in annoyance, "he did tell me one thing." I swallow hard and prepare myself whatever reaction I'm about to get. "Perry, you…your body has been genetically modified in a laboratory."

My reveal is met with a pair of dark brown eyes casting a deadpan expression.

I smack my forehead. "Oh, come on! Does everyone know about that but me?"

Perry the Platypus makes his version of the "Heinz is an idiot" sound then gestures up and down to his body.

Which really does make me feel like an idiot. I rub the back of my neck. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of obvious in hindsight. But-but, is it true that agents start out as regular animals who are…dying?"

There's a somberness in the singular nod of his head.

My heart hurts. "So…so, you were dying? Major Monogram said no one thought you would make it out of your egg! That, uh, that must have been a rough way to start out, huh?"

Perry raises his hands on either side and shrugs one shoulder at a time.

"I guess you…probably don't remember," I interpret. "Seeing as you were, you know, a newborn at the time. But, uh, I really am glad you survived. I hate to think about what my career would be like with a different nemesis. You-you get me, you know? Not a lot of people get me, but I feel like you do."

The walls finally crumble. Perry the Platypus sends me a true smile as he double taps his fist to his chest then points at me. A gesture that reads, I totally do, and/or Back at ya, pal.

But, there are a few things I need to check before I'm completely satisfied. "Now, uh, if this too personal, you don't have to answer, but… Well, I know animals in the wild will sometimes abandon babies who are sick and weak. Survival of the fittest and all that. I was just wondering if…if your parents did that to you?"

Perry the Platypus shakes his head with a slight smirk that tells me he thinks the very idea is ridiculous.

The tension seeps out of me. "That's good. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, the knowledge that-that your parents abandoned you just because you were born a certain way."

There must be something revealing in my tone, because Perry the Platypus tilts his head quizzically.

I hesitate because this is a backstory I'm not prepared to share. But, this whole situation has me thinking too hard about it. I suck in air between my teeth and remind myself that it's better to get these things off your chest than to let them fester. "So, you know how I've told you that neither of my parents were there for my birth? I, uh, might have exaggerated a little."

Perry the Platypus gives me a flat look.

"I can see that you figured that out on your own. Logically, my mother at least had to have been present, right? Needless to say, I don't actually remember anything from the day I was born. Because, well, it was the day I was born. This backstory, I learned the details of from my mother several years later. Technically, she told it to Roger, but the door was cracked open, so I could hear everything that was being said. Apparently, I was a premature baby. Because of this, my parents tried to abandon me in the hospital."

Perry the Platypus's eyes widen in sheer horror.

I push through the hurt these particular thoughts always bring. "You see, Perry the Platypus, in Drusselstein, any complication with a birth is considered a bad omen. But, premature births are the worst. It is taken as a sign that the child, should they survive, will forever be weak and useless and a waste of resources. At least, that's what my mother told Roger about me."

I clear my throat when I realize that my voice is breaking. Two reasons why I usually keep these kinds of backstories to myself: the emotions are hard for me to fight, and people look at me like I'll shatter if they so much as breathe on me. Perry the Platypus doesn't have that look as he listens intently, but it will come, I'm sure.

"Anyway, the only reason my parents decided to keep me in the end was because they would get more financial help if they had a child. But, of course, I could never do anything right. I couldn't play kickball. I couldn't grow crops without killing them. I couldn't even be a lawn gnome correctly because I had to do things like eat and go to the bathroom. And, the only reason my father let me use the actual bathroom was because he didn't want a stinky lawn gnome in the garden. And, of course, Roger's birth went off without a hitch, and he always did everything right." I let out a shaky sigh. "Looking back, I…I often wonder if being born too early is the reason my parents hate me so much."

There it is. There's the pitying look. Right there on that fuzzy teal face.

I scoff and roll my eyes even though it's nice to have some sympathy for once. "See, this is why I prefer to keep my backstories PG. Because otherwise it just brings the mood down. Besides, you only need the bare basics to understand my inators. You don't need to know that my ocelot mother kicked me out of the den at the same time she did my ocelot siblings, forcing me to fend for myself in the wilderness. Or, that the only reason I got that carnival job was because I agreed to do some illegal activities for my boss…"

I trail off when I see that Perry the Platypus is giving me that pitying look even harder now.

I won't let him see how much those memories affect me. I climb to my feet so that it's even harder for him to see. Also because that position was hurting my knees and back. "Whatever," I grunt with my hands on my hips. "I don't need your pity, Perry the Platypus. I can pity myself just fine! Eh, that's not much of a flex, is it? The point is that I made it through. My life has been a train wreck, but I'm still standing."

There's a light tug on my pant leg. I look down and see that Perry the Platypus has gotten up as well. He's…smiling at me. Is that… Is that pride I see?

My throat closes up. I cough into my fist and look anywhere else. "That, uh, that got a little real there, didn't it? Sorry. I-I didn't mean to-"

Still smiling, Perry the Platypus cuts me off with a wave of his hand. Then he reaches into his fedora and pulls out a tiny notepad and an equally tiny pen. He jots something down then tears off the page and hands it to me before stuffing the notepad and pen back into his hat.

I examine the paper. The writing is small but not so small that I can't make out the words.

I know how strong you are, Heinz. You don't have to leave out the details with me.

I crumple up the paper and toss it aside before I start crying. "Uh, th-thank you, Perry the Platypus." I clear my throat. "Since you're here, maybe we could do the shrunken-head-inator scheme? I still haven't finished preparing my monologue for that one, but I could adlib. It's, uh, kind of a dark backstory, though. I haven't figured out how to make it PG yet."

Perry the Platypus narrows his eyes at me and points to the little crumpled paper on the floor.

This guy is really trying to make me cry today, isn't he? "I know. We've established that you're okay with that. But, are you sure you are? It's just…some of my backstories can be…awful."

My nemesis points to the paper again and chitters meaningfully.

So, we start the scheme with Perry the Platypus pretending to be trapped because I haven't finished that particular trap either. For once when I have a dark backstory to share, I don't leave out the hard parts. I still bite down on my emotions and shake from pain and frustration, and Perry the Platypus still makes that pitying face…but there's something…freeing about it all.

It frustrates me when he "escapes," beats me up, and slams his hand on my inator's self-destruct button, but the loss isn't the gaping wound that it normally is with my dark backstory-based schemes.

I feel…not good, but a little bit lighter. I don't even feel like cursing him, but I do have a tradition to uphold.

As I lay among the smoldering wreckage and in a heap of my own bruises and first-degree(?) burns, I shake my fist in the air and cry out, "Curse you, Perry the Platypus! And, uh…"

My nemesis stops running for the door and turns around.

I try not to look away in a sudden bout of shyness. "Um, thank you. Mostly curse you, but-but thank you as well. A-and," I add at the last minute, "if-if you ever need to vent about any of your backstories, you-you can do that. I know you can't talk, but you could write them down and I could read them! Then it would be like you were talking but-but with a piece of paper. And, a pen. Or, pencil or-or anything that writes. But, yeah, you listen to me, so I'll listen to you! Figuratively listen since you wouldn't actually be speaking. It still counts. Friendimosity is a two-way street, after all." He gives me a strange look, and it takes me a moment to realize what the problem is. "You know, friendly animosity. Friendimosity! It's a portmanteau and it is a two-way street, so don't be afraid to rant through writing, okay?"

Perry the Platypus smiles that real smile and tips his hat before walking out the front door.

My nemesis doesn't leave my mind after that. Even when my daughter shows up for the weekend, my thoughts are filled with a platypus in a fedora who told me I'm strong.

I can count on one hand the number of times someone called me strong, and I'd still have fingers left over. That crumpled piece of paper is stuffed into my lab coat pocket. Something about knowing it's there gives me the strength Perry the Platypus thinks I have.

"Dad," Vanessa says from her seat at the kitchen table, "I think the sauce is burning."

The bitterness hits my nose then. I grunt and mentally curse myself before turning off the burner and moving the pot to an unused one. Fortunately, it looks like Vanessa was able to save our spaghetti and meatballs. Barely.

(Thank badness that farmer and his wife needed cheese to sell at a booth, or my kitchen would still be a mess.)

"Sorry, sweetie," I say as I spoon our dinner into bowls. "I'm a little distracted. I keep thinking about a talk I had with Perry the Platypus earlier." I set our pasta on the dinner table and take a seat beside my daughter. "Well, I talked and he made that little 'diggeta-diggeta-diggeta' sound he makes, but you know what I mean."

Vanessa's brow pinches. "Did you two have a fight? In a different way than you usually do?"

Her concern draws a brief smile out of me. "No, it's nothing like that. But, I learned something about him that bothers me."

Vanessa twirls her pasta on her fork and says, "Do tell. Assuming Perry would be cool with it."

I consider whether it really would be okay to tell her. Francis was quick to tell me presumably without Perry the Platypus's consent. Plus, I know Perry the Platypus trusts Vanessa, so it should be fine. If not, then I'll deal with the consequences.

I really need to ramble to someone about this.

I wait until Vanessa swallows so she doesn't choke out of shock. "First and foremost, I should warn you that this is the kind of news that really smacks you in the face." I punctuate this by pretending to slap someone.

Vanessa sits back in her chair with her hands folded on the table in that classic "teenager seeks gossip" way. "I'm listening."

"It turns out that all OWCA agents started out as ordinary animals who were on their death bed through unnatural causes and were saved by being genetically modified in a laboratory."

I gauge Vanessa's reaction. She relaxes her posture, purses her lips, then shrugs and says, "Yeah, and?"

No shock. No plethora of questions. She doesn't seem thrown off at all by this revelation.

"Wait, you- How did you-" I cup one hand around my mouth and call toward the kitchen doorway, "Hey, Norm! Get in here!"

Norm's giant metallic body steps into the room. Norm-sized entrances were the best investment I ever made. "Awaiting orders, sir!"

I point to him and ask, "Did you know that OWCA agents were genetically modified when they were on the brink of death?"

My giant humanoid robot adds insult to injury by saying in his typical merry way, "Of course! Everyone knows that."

Everyone but me, apparently. I groan and flick my fingers at him. "Get back in your closet."

"With pleasure!"

He stomps away, and I glare down at my pasta and wonder why I'm always the last to know these things.

"I suppose you know that Perry the Platypus almost died as an embryo as well," I whine.

Vanessa pauses with a meatball halfway to her mouth. "That, I did not know."

"It's true!" I say. "Major Monogram told me about it. Well, he didn't tell me much. You know how he is. But, supposedly, Perry the Platypus wasn't expected to survive his egg! And, Perry the Platypus confirmed it!"

Vanessa lets out a low whistle. "Poor Perry. Of course, he probably doesn't remember any of that."

"And, it's probably for the best." I start to dig into my pasta when another thought hits me. "How do you suppose that works, anyway? The genetic modification."

"Beats me," Vanessa says around a mouthful. I give her my best reproaching look, and she swallows with an apologetic grin. "It sure is impressive, though. Those agents were about to meet their makers, and now they all kick ass!" I give her another reproaching look. This time my daughter rolls her eyes. "Kick butt. Just look at Perry. He was this close to dying in his egg, and now he is so fu- freaking cool!"

I point at her with my fork. "Nice save. And, you're right. Must be some very advanced technology over at OWCA."

Very, very advanced. How do they do it? Gene splicing? Bionics? I suddenly have the mental image of Perry the Platypus as a cyborg, and it makes me cringe for some reason.

I asked Perry the Platypus about the process before we got into the shrunken-head-inator scheme, but he claims that he doesn't know anything about it. Whether he was telling the truth or not is up in the air.

Lord knows Francis won't tell me.

I thought I'd kicked this obsession when I learned of the genetic modifications, but I feel it creeping over me once more. Looks like I'll have to take matters into my own hands.

"Dad," Vanessa is giving me that reproaching look now, "what did we talk about?"

Curse my expressive face! I sigh and recite, "No plotting at the table."

Perry

My parents were relieved to hear that Heinz's curiosity has been settled. Though, they were a little confused when I told them that Heinz didn't know how agents came to be.

"How did he not know that?" Dad asked me.

"Even I knew that!" Mom chirped. "And, I didn't meet your dad until after the fact."

I just shrugged. "Keep in mind, this is the same guy who didn't know until this year that no one ever keeps their New Year's resolutions. Regardless, I think we're in the clear."

Now I'm explaining the whole thing to Pinky as we sit behind the local coffee shop, Steam Noir. It's a trendy hipster hangout, not my or Pinky's scene, but they make good coffee. Plus, it's the only coffee shop in the Tri-State Area that doesn't give anthropomorphic animals a second glance.

Hipsters, am I right?

But, Pinky and I still sit against the wall behind the building for privacy.

After taking a sip from his hazelnut latte, Pinky barks, "How did he not know we were genetically modified? I thought everyone associated with OWCA knew."

I swallow a mouthful of my white mocha before chittering, "Not sure. But, I believe him. For the most part, Heinz is pretty bad at concealing his emotions, and he seemed genuinely floored by the knowledge."

And, I was genuinely touched when he offered to be my emotional support. That shrunken head backstory and unflinching pain he showed as he told it still rings through my head. But, I'm not going to tell Pinky about any of that. Some things need to stay between nemeses.

That scene right before I left the D.E.I. building does make me feel bad about letting Heinz believe I almost died in infancy, but that particular tale needs to stay in the agency.

Pinky's ears twitch despite being flattened by his fedora. "You're not worried that he'll try to find out how it works?"

"The thought crossed my mind," I admit, "but I'm not that worried. Only the people in charge of that stuff know anything about it, and all the information is under lock and key. What's he gonna do? Build some kind of drone to sneak in and gain intel?"

Pinky rears back as though I'd slapped him. "Perry! Why would you say that? Now it's actually gonna happen!"

It takes me a moment to figure out what he's talking about. When I do, I scoff and roll my eyes. "Honestly, Pinky. Just because I correctly predicted Heinz's schemes on three nonconsecutive occasions doesn't mean it'll happen a fourth time."

Chapter Text

Heinz

I'm so glad I finally got around to reading Norm's instruction manual. Now I know that he can hack into computer systems. Granted, he could only do that with those "edutainment" tablets they give to three-year-olds - when would that ever be useful? - but two weeks' worth of modifications was able to fix that. During that time, I also built a drone-inator that would be compatible with Norm's software. It's designed to have the appearance of an ordinary spider, albeit a large one. So unless someone at OWCA has an intense phobia of spiders, no one should think twice about it if they see it.

Norm named it Andrew and keeps referring to it as his "little brother." I can't get him to stop.

I would have been finished sooner, but I had to keep Perry the Platypus from getting suspicious, so part of my time was spent building decoy inators. (Not decoy-inators. Decoy inators. Two words, no hyphen.) I could have finished building the bad-idea-inator - I did work on it a little - but it's too big to work as a quick decoy. So, I made a few small things that don't really matter, the kind I make when I'm especially bored. The tree-recolor-inator. The chimpanzee-inator. The j-pop-eliminator-inator. (That one actually had a reason to exist. I watched that J-Pop Bounty Hunters movie, and the songs were so catchy that I couldn't get them out of my head!)

It'll all have been worth it once I learn how OWCA's genetic modification works. Oh! I just realized that I could use my newfound knowledge for evil! Picture it! An army of anthropomorphic animals doing my bidding-

"Look at Andrew go!" Norm cheers, snapping me out of my plotting. "I'm so proud of him!"

"Stop calling him Andrew," I scold. "He's not your brother. I mean, it. It's not your brother. Ugh. You got me doing it."

Norm stands beside me and somehow is able to watch the monitor from his vantage point. The cable connecting him to my computer screen had to be plugged into a rather unfortunate place between Norm's legs - I didn't think that design through - and Norm has already gotten Andrew - I mean, my drone-inator; dang it, Norm! - into the O.W.C.A. headquarters. Now it's just a matter of finding the right room.

I'm controlling my drone-inator using a repurposed controller from one of Vanessa's old gaming systems. (She gave me permission because the system itself no longer works.) I keep my eyes glued to the screen as I steer the drone-inator along the wall near the ceiling, paying attention to who goes into what room and what the signs on the doors say.

At one point, I accidentally steered it into the ladies' room. I immediately turned it back around because that is one type of evil I do not approve of.

After almost getting eaten by two birds and a lizard, I decide to move closer to the ground while staying on the wall to avoid being stepped on. That's when I suck in a breath and feel my heart stop because of who just walked into the hallway.

Perry the Platypus, ever the gentleman, holds the door open for some flamingo agent. I recognize her from the time Perry the Platypus had to go stop some human traffickers and she thwarted my scheme in his place. What was her name? Franny? Freya? Frieda! It was Frieda. I now recall screaming the words, "Curse you, Frieda the Flamingo!" Yeah, that sounds right.

I keep the drone-inator frozen on the wall as the two agents pass by, squawking (Frieda) and chittering (Perry) like old friends. Maybe they are old friends. I know next to nothing about Perry's private life, but I always figured he had friends in the agency. A guy like him must be swimming in buddies!

I don't restart breathing until Perry the Platypus and Frieda the Flamingo turn a corridor, disappearing from view.

"Thank goodness," Norm says. "I was so worried about my little brother!"

"He's not- It's not your brother, Norm," I scold. "Now, focus. We need to find out where they modify the animals. We've checked everywhere on the main floor. I'm thinking we should check one of the lower levels. In movies, the really freaky stuff always happens on the lower levels."

Norm frowns and brings his folded hands to his chest. "I hope Andrew will be okay down there. I would hate for something to happen to my dear, sweet little brother!"

For my own sake, I ignore that.

The door opens again, and a woman's voice calls out, "Hey, Agent P! Agent P?"

I turn the drone-inator's camera upward to get a better look at the woman. She is reed thin and dark-skinned with large, thick-rimmed glasses and her black hair pulled into a bun at the base of her skull. She is wearing a lab coat similar to my own, except hers is buttoned all the way up.

The woman runs halfway down the hall, stopping in front of the drone-inator, oblivious of its presence. "Perry the Platypus!"

Perry the Platypus must have heard her, as he speed-walks back into view without Frieda the Flamingo.

The woman drops to one knee as Perry the Platypus approaches her. She pulls a little index card and a pen out of her lab coat pocket. "I almost forgot. I wanted to schedule your next physical. There's an opening, so I can see you tomorrow morning if you're available." Perry the Platypus frowns at her and points to the door they both walked out of. "I know you just had a physical and passed, but you're due for a more…in depth one." Perry the Platypus frowns deeper and narrows his eyes. The woman is nonplussed. "I know there haven't been any issues since you were training, but you know your medical history is unique among agents. It's important we check everything so there isn't another incident like that." The woman jots something down on the index card then shoves it into Perry the Platypus's hands. "I wrote you down for eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Remember, no food or drink after midnight and not until after the procedure is over."

Perry the Platypus appears to swallow a sigh before saluting the woman and walking away.

This woman presumably has access to the information I'm looking for, so I have the drone-inator latch on to the leg of her bootcut jeans. Then I have it climb up her clothes and into her breast pocket so the motions don't make me queasy.

Waiting for the woman to get to wherever she's going - hopefully not to her car at the end of her shift - gives me plenty of time to go over everything I just heard. What makes Perry the Platypus's medical history so unique? Is he the only platypus in OWCA? Knowing how big the organization is, I find that hard to believe. Is it because he almost didn't survive his egg? Even if there are other agents who almost died in infancy, it isn't out of the question that Perry the Platypus could be the only one who almost died before he was even born. That sort of thing would take some obscenely good timing to catch if he was born to two regular platypuses, which also isn't out of the question. Does Perry the Platypus have some sort of chronic illness that stemmed from his rough start to life and needs to be treated regularly? I hope not, because that would mean I've been fighting someone with a chronic illness for the past six years.

My insides squirm at the thought. Did I ever exacerbate anything during our fights? Perry the Platypus always seems fine or mostly fine in the aftermath, but he strikes me as the type to hide any pain he's in. The mental image of Perry the Platypus curled up in bed, moaning in agony, rips me in half.

No. No, OWCA wouldn't send Perry the Platypus out into the field if his condition was that severe, would they? Unless Perry has been faking how okay he really is so he can keep doing what he loves. He's so stubborn that I could easily see him doing that.

How can I go on fighting him after this? I don't want a new nemesis, but I don't want to really hurt Perry the Platypus either! And if I did get a new nemesis, wouldn't OWCA just reassign Perry the Platypus to someone else? Someone who wouldn't know about his limitations, or even worse, wouldn't care?

"Go, Andrew, go!" Norm cheers with his fist in the air.

"Stop calling it Andrew," I snap. "It's not your brother."

I am grateful for Norm's intrusion on my thoughts, however, as I was so wrapped up in them that I didn't realize the woman had entered an elevator until the doors opened. She walks down the hallway and swipes a keycard through a reader on one of the doors. A green light flashes on the reader, and she steps into the room.

I shimmy in excitement and grip the controller tighter. "Oh! We have reached the classified areas, Norm!"

"Andrew is doing a great job!" Norm chimes.

Once again, I ignore him.

A white man with brown hair who appears to be somewhere in his thirties turns around from whatever he was working on and smiles at my pawn. "Hey, Janine." Apparently, my pawn's name is Janine. "All finished with Agent P's physical?"

"Yep," Janine says. "He passed with flying colors, and he's coming back tomorrow morning for the invasive stuff."

I wince at the word "invasive." That was implied by her use of the phrase "in-depth," but actually hearing it… Oh, Perry, how badly have I been hurting you?

As Janine appears to sit down, her co-worker says, "I've been meaning to ask. Why does Perry the Platypus get those invasive physicals but no one else does? Doesn't really seem fair to me."

"No one gave you the rundown?" Janine asks. "I know you're new, Alex, but you're not that new."

The man, Alex, merely shrugs.

I hang on to every word as Janine explains. Whatever's wrong with Perry the Platypus's body, I need to know the extent of it so I can be more careful. Alex pulls out a chair and sits across from Janine, hanging on to her words as much as I am.

"You see, Alex, when Brutus the Platypus's wife laid eggs… Well, you know that the offspring of an agent and a normal animal always dies in the womb or egg, depending."

They always what?

Alex nods like this information isn't horrifying. "Because the genetically-enchanced parent's DNA kills the embryo if the other parent isn't also enhanced, right?"

Janine's finger gun appears on the screen. "Exactly. No surprise that Agent P's sister didn't hatch. But, Perry the Platypus himself? That was a total shock. Even more so when we discovered that his father's enhanced genetics were dominant!"

Wait! Whoa! Whoa! Back up! Does that mean Perry the Platypus was born anthropomorphic? And, he let me believe he almost died as an embryo?

Actually…I guess he did almost die as an embryo.

"What does that have to do with the extra physicals?" Alex asks. "Agent P seems healthy enough."

Janine hums. "You're not wrong. But, there was an incident when he was training when, out of nowhere, his body started breaking down. It started as dizzy spells and lethargy and general flu symptoms, but one day, Agent B ran into the medical quarters with his son in his arms. Perry wasn't dead, but the poor thing sure looked the part! It was the one and only time anyone had ever seen Brutus the Platypus cry, so we knew it was bad."

So, this Brutus the Platypus is a loving father. Funny how he has the same name as that rude platypus at the Danville Zoo.

"Normally, we wouldn't bother trying to save a half-agent, half-normal-animal child. And, animals are expendable anyway, so who really cares in the long run? But, Perry was the first half-agent, half-normal-animal in OWCA's history to survive! This was a perfect scientific opportunity! We couldn't not save him! And now that he's one of OWCA's best agents, we have to make sure he sticks around. Hence the bi-annual invasive physicals. Gotta make sure everything stays ship-shape."

Janine is talking about my nemesis as though he is a sample on a petri dish. An expendable sample. I never stopped to think about why the O.W.C.A. used animals.

Alex's face is pinched, and I realize that he is looking directly at the drone-inator. "Uh, Janine? Don't freak out, but there is a huge spider in your pocket."

"WHAT?"

Uh-oh.

Janine shoots upright with a shriek, and I manage to get the drone-inator out of her lab coat and scurrying on the floor before she can slap at it. I then have to dodge two pairs of shoes, as Alex has joined Janine in trying to squish my inator.

Norm grabs my shoulders and jostles me in his big metal hands. "Get Andrew out of there!"

I wiggle out of his grasp and move the joy stick and press buttons hard enough to make my thumbs hurt. "I'm working on it! And, its name isn't Andrew! It's a drone-inator!"

I've come too far to stop now. I have to get the drone-inator connected with the computer Janine was just sitting by.

A rare stroke of luck graces me with its presence in the form of an air duct close to the floor. The drone-inator is just small enough to fit through the gap.

"Did you get it?" Janine asks.

There's a pause before Alex says, "I think it went into the ducts."

I hear Janine sigh in relief. "Let's hope it stays there."

Crisis averted. My turn for a relieved sigh. I hear Norm make a noise similar to one.

"Looks like we'll have to stay put until the coast is clear," I say.

While we wait, I ponder everything I've learned so far.

Perry the Platypus was born to Brutus the Platypus - not to be confused with that platypus who deficated in front of me - and some unnamed regular platypus. If what those two scientists were saying is true, the couple should have been left with stillborns. And, they did have one.

Perry the Platypus was supposed to have a sister. Does he know about her? If she had survived, what would her name have been? Would she have been an agent as well? What kind of relationship would she have had with her brother?

Why did Perry the Platypus survive? Janine and Alex don't seem to know, so is Perry just that lucky? Maybe not, if his body started breaking down at some point in his youth. My chronic illness theory pops back into my head. Does that have anything to do with the invasive physicals he apparently has to get every six months?

Anger bleeds into me when I remember that he's only getting those physicals because OWCA doesn't want to lose one of their best agents. They used the word "expendable" to describe the animals who work so hard for them. Those scientists put so much time and effort and care - no, obviously not care - into creating fully sentient creatures with thoughts and feelings, and they have the nerve to call those poor animals expendable? Those agents are so loyal to an organization that sees them as little more than-than scrap metal?

"With all due respect, sir," Norm says, "maybe we should call it off. I'm worried about Andrew's safety."

"Norm, you're getting on my last nerve," I snap. "Shut up before I turn you into scrap metal!"

"Shutting up now," he smartly says.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah!

Expendable. An adjective used to describe something that can be easily replaced. As though those agents are lesser just because they aren't humans.

Take Brutus the Platypus - the agent, not the rude guy - for example. Though we've never met, that one backstory tells me that Brutus the Platypus is a father who loves his son so much that he was in tears over that child's near-death experience. Meanwhile, if I was dying, my father would have poured himself a glass of that himbeergeist he saved for special occasions. There is nothing expendable about a father who loves his child.

What about Perry's unnamed mother? Is she expendable just because she's a normal platypus? I bet she's as good a mother as Brutus is a father.

I'm certain that Perry the Platypus would never use the word "expendable" to describe either of his parents. Nor, any of his fellow agents.

And, Perry himself?

My nemesis is a sweetheart with a stubborn streak who can and will mop the floor with you if need be. (Literally, in the case of that mop-inator I built back when our animosity was still fairly new.) He has a razor-sharp mind and, though he can't speak, I have no doubt that he would have an equally sharp tongue if he could. He'll roll his eyes at your antics, but the moment you need help, he'll drop everything for you.

In fact… I feel a flashback coming on.

Well, this was a dilly of a pickle. I didn't even know how I ended up in this situation! All I knew was that both of my titanium arms were smashed to bits, and the pieces were scattered all over my living room.

In hindsight, maybe a metal-smash-inator wasn't the best idea.

I glanced at the wall clock with a gut-wrenching feeling. Perry the Platypus would be here any minute. I couldn't let him see me like this! We'd only been adversaries for three months, and in that time, I'd been… Well, I hadn't been competent, but I hadn't done anything this stupid!

To add insult to injury, Perry the Platypus didn't know I was an amputee. I wasn't comfortable enough with him to tell him any of my backstories.

There it was. The telltale sound of a door falling off its hinges. My nemesis was here.

Gott, this was humiliating! He was going to take one look at my lack of arms and the broken bits surrounding me, and he was going to laugh and walk back out because I'd basically thwarted myself.

"Krkrkrkr?"

I flinched at the sound of his…sound. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my legs to turn me around. Perry the Platypus was a few feet away, gazing up at me with… I'd never seen that expression on his face before.  It looked like concern, but that couldn't have been right.

"Perry the Platypus," I greeted weakly. "So, um, heh… This isn't how I wanted this scheme to go…"

Expression unchanging, Perry the Platypus lifted one of his arms and pointed at it, then he lowered that arm and pointed at me.

"Yeah, ya got me. My arms are fake. It's a long backstory. Well, two of them. One for each arm. After I lost the first one, I built myself a titanium prosthetic that, after some trial and error, looked and felt identical to a real arm. It even felt pain! Which was probably a stupid design choice on my part, but I…wanted to forget what happened and… I-it doesn't matter. You don't care."

I turned around because that face he was making was fooling me into thinking he did care.

"I-I've kind of lost interest in this inator," I babble. "It's the reason my arms are broken, so-so you can just destroy it."

Perry the Platypus made that little noise again.

Why couldn't he just hit the self-destruct button and leave? "If you're worried about the lack of arms, I can rebuild them. I still have the blueprints. I'll have to use my feet and-and my teeth, but I can get it done."

The explosion and the blast of heat told me that the self-destruct button had been pushed. Then there was a tug on my pant leg. I looked down, and Perry the Platypus had regained that intense, serious expression I'd come to associate with him. He gestured for me to follow him, so against my better judgement, I did.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he led me down the hallway. "If you're looking for the bathroom, we just passed it."

Evidently, he was not looking for the bathroom.

He waltzed right into my lab like he owned the place then turned to face me and pointed to my desk drawers.

"You need something out of my desk? How did you even know where my lab was?"

He didn't answer, not that I expected him to. He instead pointed to his arm then to me then to my desk.

I struggled to make sense of his gestures. "I can't exactly do any writing, Perry the Platypus. No arms, remember?"

My nemesis was undeterred. He picked up a wrench I must have dropped then pointed to his arm, me, and my desk again before wiggling the wrench in his hand and jabbing his thumb at his chest.

The gears were turning, but… "I'm sorry, Perry the Platypus. I'm still not getting this. It kind of seems like you want to help me rebuild my arms, but-"

He nodded. He nodded his fuzzy little head.

I leaned forward and squinted at him. "Is this a trick? Are you going to put a tracking device in my arms? Or, steal my blueprints and give them to your agency? What's your angle, Perry the Platypus?"

Perry the Platypus scoffed, sat the wrench down, and pulled a pen and notepad out of his hat. He wrote something down then showed it to me. It was the first time he'd communicated any human words to me, and what he wrote left me baffled.

Why can't I just be nice?

I was so baffled that I told him where the blueprints were, and I instructed him on how to put everything together. (Thankfully, I had all the necessary parts stored away in case something like this happened.) I could tell that he had the knowledge of how to build things from scratch but didn't implement it often if ever. He was apologetic when he wired something wrong or dented one of the pieces, but I wasn't in a position to be annoyed when it would have taken a lot longer and gone a lot worse on my own.

Even if my nemesis had an ulterior motive, I was happy to have the help.

When he started sneaking worried looks at the clock and I told him he could leave if he needed to, he refused. When he finished building and attaching my first arm and I told him I told take it from here, he insisted on staying to help me rebuild my other arm. It was dark out by the time we were finished.

I flexed my new arms, bending the elbows, all the fingers. The fit wasn't perfect on the one Perry the Platypus did by himself, and there was some fine-tuning that needed to be done on both, but I could breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Perry the Platypus. I can't tell you how long that would have taken if I had to use my feet."

Perry's thumbs-up came with a satisfied smile.

"But, why did you help me?" I asked. "I saw you looking at the clock, so I know this had to be a huge inconvenience for you."

Perry the Platypus pulled a small paper out of his hat, the paper that said, Why can't I just be nice?

I stomped my foot in frustration. "Because people aren't nice to me! Not unless they want something, and even then it's backhanded niceness!" My voice was breaking. The stress of losing my arms and the shock of my enemy's kindness was crashing over me. "The only exceptions are my daughter and my ex-wife, and even they get fed up with me! You are paid to hate me, so why would you be nice?"

Perry the Platypus stared at me for a long time, brown eyes wide open and bill parted like he didn't know what to say. Eventually, he pulled out his notepad again and wrote something else. He tore off the page and handed it to me before walking out of the room.

I read the paper three times before my brain processed the words: Why not?

Perry was long gone by the time I pulled myself together.

"Sir," Norm says. "I think the coast has cleared."

"Really?" I steer the drone-inator out of the vent and see that the room is empty. "Man, how long was I flashing back?"

It doesn't matter. I need to get that data before someone else walks in.

I bring the drone-inator over to the CPU on the floor and find a slot for the drone-inator to connect to. I slide the little tab out of the inator's foot and plug it in.

"Alright, Norm," I say. "Your move."

Norm's arms shoot into the air. "I'm helping!"

He immediately starts…thrusting his pelvis. Bringing my attention to the very awkward spot where the cable connects him to my computer.

"Is the…thrusting really necessary?"

"Completely!" he chirps obliviously. "You must have missed that part of my instruction manual."

I am really regretting that design choice.

Chapter Text

Perry

I hate those "in-depth" physicals. I hate that they make me have one every six months even when I am obviously fine. I hate that I can't eat or drink anything before them so my family worries when I don't eat breakfast.

Most of all, I hate how I feel afterwards. Sore, groggy, disoriented. And then, there's the guilt from my family thinking I'm sick when I'm only recovering from invasive procedures I don't even need. I should recover in the medical ward like the doctors recommend, but I can't bring myself to do that because my family, my boys especially, worry enough when I sneak off without eating breakfast.

Honestly, you catch one life-threatening illness… They removed my venom sacs years ago! There is no chance of that happening again!

I can't even pretend that I'm okay, because Phineas and Ferb just know in that way that they just know things. Case in point, they are crouched over my pet bed, where I am trying and failing to sleep this off.

Lawrence walks over and stands behind them. "I'm sure Perry will be his old self soon," he says. "You know the vet says this is a normal platypus thing and is nothing to worry about."

Little does he know that my regular veterinarian is affiliated with OWCA and knows damn well that this is not a normal platypus thing.

My boys don't take their eyes off of me. "We know, Dad," Phineas says. "It just bothers us. Perry's normally so spirited. Yet, every six months, he gets like this! It may be normal, but it's still kind of scary."

"We love our semi-aquatic mammalian friend," Ferb adds. "And, we will always worry about him."

Twist the knife a little deeper, boys.

The aroma of cooked apples and cinnamon permeates the air as Linda takes a pie out of the oven. "We love Perry too, boys, but your father's right. Perry will be fine once he shakes this off."

"Yeah, but…" There's a familiar gleam in Phineas's eyes, and Ferb's eyes spark in a similar way once his brother says, "Ferb, I know what we're gonna do today."

"The words! He said the words!" Candace flies into my line of sight, her stern gaze drawing her brothers' attention to her. She points accusingly at them. "Whatcha gonna do today, huh? Whatcha gonna do?"

"Candace," Linda warns.

I still can't tell if my boys are oblivious to their sister's craziness or if they choose to ignore it. "Since Perry isn't feeling well," Phineas tells her, "we're gonna take it easy and spend the whole day relaxing with him."

Oh, that's…perfect. I don't get to spend uninterrupted time with my boys that often. Since I just got back from those procedures, I can say with certainty (I hope) that Major Monogram will send someone else to fight Heinz if necessary. Heinz won't like it, but he'll understand when I explain that I was out sick.

A whole day relaxing with Phineas and Ferb sounds wonderful! If I could jump up and hug them without breaking my cover, I would.

"So, what?" Candace asks. "You're just gonna sit on the couch all day?"

"If that's what Perry wants to do," Phineas says, "then sure!"

Candace brightens considerably. "Great! A day off from busting! Lord knows I could use it. I think I'll call Stacy and see if she wants to check out that smoothie place that just opened." She walks away, musing, "Maybe I'll call Jenny, too. It's been ages since we hung out."

"A day off does sound lovely," Lawrence says, "but alas, I need to head down to the antique shop. Enjoy your lazy day, boys!"

My boys wave to their father, and Phineas calls, "Bye, Dad!" as Lawrence leaves. Phineas then turns to Linda and asks, "Wanna join us on the couch, Mom?"

"Sorry, boys," Linda says. "I waited until the last minute to make dozens of pies for Charlene's charity bake sale. Do yourselves a favor, and never procrastinate."

"Do you need any help?" Phineas asks.

I hear Linda decline, but I'm too annoyed with the vibration on my wrist to pay attention to the conversation.

I'm gonna lose it if Monogram sends me away right now.

My limbs burn and my insides are heavy when I trudge out of my pet bed while the humans are distracted. I sneak down the hallway and into the closet as quickly as I can while my body is caving in. Everything hurts too much for me to care about professionalism, so I take the call while flopped down on my stomach, not bothering to put on my fedora.

I pull back the artificial fur covering my wrist-com and stifle a relieved sigh when I see my father's face on the screen.

"Hey, son," Dad greets. "Just wanted to check in. I know you had one of those physicals today. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got chewed up and spit out. Into a woodchipper."

Dad grimaces. "Yeah, that's what I figured. Don't worry. I already volunteered to take care of Doofenshmirtz today if anything comes up."

Suddenly, I feel like I got chewed up and spit out without the woodchipper. "Uh, thank you, Dad, but are you sure? What about Prof. Applebottom?"

Dad waves dismissively at my mention of his nemesis. "Ah, don't worry about it. Janet's at a family reunion in Idaho. Unlike most evil scientists, she gets along with most of her family members, so the worst we can expect is a potato-based scheme when she gets back."

Despite how rotten I feel physically, my bill curls into a smile. "I really appreciate this, Dad."

"That's what a father does," he says. "Fight deranged Drusselstinians so his son can spend the day sleeping off the anesthesia."

"Can I talk to Perry now?" Mom's voice chimes in from off-screen. Dad angles his wrist-com so that her worried teal face takes up the screen. "You get lots of rest, sweetie! Make sure you drink plenty of fluids and eat all your food! And, no fighting evil scientists until you're better!"

I try not to laugh and/or roll my eyes. "Don't worry, Mom. Phineas and Ferb are taking a day off from their misadventures, and I plan on spending the day relaxing on the couch with them."

"Good," Mom says firmly. "Focus only on the couch. Meanwhile, I will focus on the Enrichment Box. I'm getting good at it. You wanna see?"

"You know I do!" I say truthfully.

Mom whirls around and sprints to the cardboard box a short distance from where Dad is hiding. She rears back, wiggles her butt in the air, and leaps into the box. Unfortunately, as always, she lands in such a way that the box tips over, trapping her underneath.

The box moves around in a circle as Mom shouts, "It didn't work! Get me out! Get me out!"

The camera pans back to Dad, who is glancing between Mom and me with a face that is equal parts amused and embarrassed. "I don't think that's what she wanted you to see."

"Yeah, but her form has really improved," I comment.

"I'll tell her you said that," Dad chitters. "It'll make her feel better. Now you get back to feeling better yourself. Love you, son. I'm saying that on your Mom's behalf as well."

"Love you guys, too," I say before hanging up.

I'm all set to lug myself out of the closet when my wrist-com buzzes again. I assume Dad forgot something until Pinky's face appears. And, he doesn't look happy.

"Did you get the email?" he barks in lieu of a greeting.

I shift into a more comfortable position on the floor but quickly discover that there isn't a more comfortable position in my current state. "No. I've spent the last few hours in a medically induced coma."

Pinky grimaces. "Oh, right. I forgot that was today."

"No worries. What's up?"

Pinky is shaking more than usual. That's never a good sign. "There was a data breach yesterday! Someone hacked the system and copied classified data!"

Shit. Of all the times for me to be out of commission! "What did they take?"

"The email didn't say. But, don't you see what's going on here?"

I shrug. "OWCA needs better security?"

"No! Well, yes. But, didn't you snark about Doofenshmirtz sneaking in and gaining intel not long ago?"

I smack my forehead and growl under my breath. "For crying out loud, Pinky! That data breach could be from anything!"

"But, don't you think it's weird-"

"Do you have definitive proof that Heinz Doofenshmirtz was involved?"

Pinky hesitates before confessing, "Well, no, but-"

"Pinky, I know how serious this is, but we can't jump to the first conclusion we think of. Hacking isn't even in Heinz's wheelhouse. He's more of a 'blow it up' kind of guy."

Properly cowed, Pinky takes a much needed breath. "You're right. It's just that the timing is-"

"Circumstantial," I insist. "Look, I gotta go before Phineas and Ferb get more worried than they already are. I'll watch for updates, but you understand if I'm too out of it to care as much as I should."

"Yeah, sorry," Pinky barks. "I shouldn't have-"

I shake my head. "No, really, it's okay. I need to know these things. But, can you please stop assuming my sarcasm somehow manifests Heinz's schemes? It is pure coincidence that I made a few off-hand comments that turned out to be right."

"Do you even know what show this fic is based on?"

"Goodbye, Pinky."

I hang up and lug myself off the floor. I hear no noise in the hallway and grunt in pain as I rise up on two quivering legs to open the door.

God, I hate those physicals! What do they even do to me? Rearrange my organs? Turn my muscle tissue inside-out? I need to start questioning these things.

Once I'm back in the hallway, I close the closet door and half-fall on to all-fours, adopting the usual blank stare just in time for my boys to walk out of their room and see me.

"There you are, Perry!" Phineas chirps. "You shouldn't overexert yourself, boy."

"I'm sorry," I chitter even though they can't understand me and don't know that I can understand them. Saying it eases the strain on my conscience.

Ferb picks me up, cradling me against his chest, and Phineas says to me, "Ferb really wants to see this movie called J-Pop Bounty Hunters. Do you wanna watch it with us, Perry?"

"I'd love to!" I chitter.

Truthfully, I don't care what we're watching. Being curled up on the couch with two of my favorite people is better than anything the doctor could have ordered.

Heinz

I've been texting Perry the Platypus all morning - we have to text since he can't talk and my phone isn't programmed for video chatting - but he hasn't responded once. He always responds, even if it's just to call me an idiot, yet he picks today of all days to ignore me.

The bad-idea-inator is nowhere near finished, but I push it out onto the balcony anyway. I need to do something suspicious so that Perry the Platypus will come.

I couldn't sleep, thinking about what those classified files said, and I didn't want to wake Perry when I knew he had that invasive physical in the morning-

"Ugh, dummkopf!" I curse, halting my pacing to smack my forehead. "Perry the Platypus had that physical this morning! He's probably in recovery right now!"

As though I'd summoned it, my phone chimes with a text from Perry the Platypus.

Sorry I didn't respond. I'm sick and had my phone turned off. If you have a scheme, someone else is going to be thwarting it. I should be back on my feet tomorrow, but right now I feel like I ran a marathon in a blender.

I wince at the giant ray gun that is now perched on my balcony for all to see. I can't rant about this with some random agent! Perry's the only one I trust!

He texts me again before I can figure out how to respond.

Is it an emergency? I can come over if it is.

Tears spring to my eyes. Perry the Platypus has no idea how much salt he's rubbing into the wound. But, I can't put this on his shoulders when he isn't feeling well. I text him back.

It can wait. Don't push yourself. Get plenty of rest and drink lots of water. Right as I'm about to hit "send," I add, Any idea who might be coming over? Are you allowed to reveal that?

After a moment, I get a response.

Rest assured that I have every intention of laying on the couch and watching tv all day. J-Pop Bounty Hunters is as good as you said, btw. My dad volunteered to take my place. His name is Brutus the Platypus. I think you'll like him.

Wow. Okay. Wow. He sent that as though he didn't drop a massive bomb on me. I text him back with a racing heart.

YOUR DAD? You can't just THROW THAT IN MY FACE, PtP! I am totally unprepared!

It takes too damn long for him to respond.

Don't overthink it. Just do what you always do, and you'll be fine.👍

I swallow hard. The issue isn't my desire for Perry's father to like me. Well, that is part of the issue, but the main thing is what Perry the Platypus doesn't know.

OWCA's genetic modification process is already something out of a horror movie, but Norm managed to get Perry's file. I know more about those invasive physicals now.

"Physical" is the polite way of putting it. OWCA's "doctors" dig into Perry the Platypus's body, checking every speck of his biological makeup for changes good or bad. There were diagrams and photographs and videos that made me nauseous. Blood tests and analyzed samples from everything from his fur to his brain. All because he was the first baby ever to survive being born to an agent and an unmodified animal.

No wonder he feels like he "ran a marathon in a blender."

Deep breaths, Heinz. In… Out… In… Out…

Let's start with the thing that is most likely going to be a problem first. There is a strong chance that I'll be meeting my nemesis's father today. This is a big moment. Perry the Platypus has met my father, but my father…isn't fond of me. This is different because I already know that Brutus the Platypus loves his son and would definitely have loved his daughter if she had survived. I need to make a good impression.

But, I don't even have a scheme prepared! Putting out the bad-idea-inator was just a ploy to get Perry the Platypus here, and that backfired epically. Is there time to finish building it?

Clang!

I flinch at the sound of a trap activating. I have no scheme and there is no time to throw one together.

In… Out…

I turn around and see a platypus in a gray fedora near the edge of my balcony who has a metal clamp around his torso, though his arms are free. One more deep breath, and I stick my phone in my lab coat pocket and walk up to him.

Brutus the Platypus is a little larger than his son and has brown fur instead of teal and a thinner bill and tail as well. However, there are enough similarities to confirm that this monotreme is related to my nemesis. Their bills and tail are the exact same tangerine-color, their eyes are matching shades of dark chocolate, and it's instantly clear where Perry the Platypus gets his serious demeanor from.

"You must be Brutus the Platypus," I say. "Your son told me you might be coming. Well, he didn't tell me. He-he can't talk, as you know. But, he texted me that you would be coming." I kneel down to Brutus the Platypus's level. This close, I can see a few gray hairs sprinkled around his bill and eyes. The average lifespan of a platypus is only ten to twelve years… "A-anyway, I'm Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Which…you already know, I'm sure.

"Krkrkrkr." I'm surprised at how deep Brutus the Platypus's voice is, more of a bass than his son's tenor.

I'm pretty sure he's telling me to get on with the scheme I don't have. An awkward chuckle escapes me. "Here's the thing. I, uh, I actually don't have a scheme for you to foil."

Brutus the Platypus nods toward the bad-idea-inator.

"Oh, no no no." I jog over to my unfinished contraption. "I know how this looks, but my bad-idea-inator isn't finished yet." I wave my hand over the large open panel that reveals exposed wiring and half-finished circuitry. "You see here? Does this look finished to you? I just moved it out here to-" Get Perry the Platypus here. "Well, it was taking up space. I haven't even installed the self-destruct button yet. See? No evil deeds here. Well, there are evil deeds, just-just not today."

Luckily, Brutus the Platypus doesn't seem too disappointed. He merely shrugs and wiggles his way out of the trap. Then he tips his hat and pulls a jetpack out of nowhere-

"Wait, wait, Brutus the Platypus!"

He freezes with his jetpack slung over one shoulder as I hurry over to him. He peers up at me with an earnest curiosity that's as familiar as his look of disdain. Does Perry the Platypus get all his facial expressions from his father?

I knock my fingers together and try not to sound as anxious as I feel. It doesn't work. "It's just, uh, y-you're Perry the Platypus's father. I-I thought maybe… I was kind of hoping I could get to know you."

Wide eyes. A single blink. Not quite a Perry expression, but their facial structures are still very similar. Fur color aside, Perry the Platypus is the spitting image of his father.

"Perry the Platypus has met my family, but-but I've never met anyone in his until now and…and if you have the time- Do you have the time? I know you have your own nemesis. It's Prof. Applebottom, right?" He nods. "I thought so. When she first joined LOVEMUFFIN, I tried to bond with her over us both having platypuses as nemeses, but she doesn't like me, so that only went so far. But, I think she's out of town, so if you do have the time, maybe you could…stick around for a bit?"

Brutus the Platypus scans me up and down. Then he shrugs in a "why not?" manner that makes me release the breath I was holding.

"Great! Great. Um, are-are you hungry? I've got some leftover quiche I could heat up. You like quiche?"

Brutus the Platypus gives me a small smile and a thumbs-up.

"Okay. Y-you can leave your jetpack there. Kitchen's this way."

Tiny footsteps follow me to my kitchen. I'm about to serve my nemesis's father lunch. I hope he likes it.

What if he doesn't like it? What if I say something stupid and he hates me?

No, no. I can't think that way. If he's willing to let me feed him, then Perry the Platypus must have told him enough good things about me that he knows I won't try to poison him. But, is that really better? If Perry the Platypus told him good things, then doesn't he have higher expectations? What if I can't meet them?

I ponder all this while I pop two quiches in the oven. I've lost my appetite, but it would be weird if my nemesis's father was the only one eating, wouldn't it?

Brutus the Platypus takes a seat in the chair with the booster on it that Perry the Platypus always uses, though not before giving said booster a weird look. It just dawned on me that he might not approve of his son being so chummy with me. Is he going to be mad at Perry?

Perry the Platypus told me not to overthink it, but that's easy for him to say! Er, text.

I don't know if I should sit next to Brutus the Platypus or across from him. He answers my unspoken question by gesturing to the seat beside him and grinning in this sly way that tells me he can see right through me.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to sit because my knees are shaking. "So, Brutus the Platypus, uh… How long have you known Perry the Platypus?" At his flat look, I hear myself and smack my forehead. "Right. His whole life. Duh. New topic. Um… How's your wife?" When he tilts his brow at me, I remember that I'm not supposed to know anything about him and hurry to add, "I mean, how's Perry's mother? I don't- I don't want to assume you're married. I have a daughter, but I'm also divorced, so I shouldn't assume you're married just because you have a son. I also shouldn't assume you're on speaking terms with her. Or-or, even that she's still alive. A-anything can happen. I mean- I mean, uh…"

I trail off when I see that Brutus the Platypus has pulled out a pen and notepad and is now writing something down. He tears off the page and hands it to me. His penmanship isn't as nice as his son's but still legible.

Yes, I'm still married to Perry's mother. She's doing well.

I start to respond, but I see that Brutus the Platypus is writing something else. He hands me that paper.

Take a breath, Heinz. My son is VERY selective about who he lets into his life. The fact that you guys are so close tells me everything I need to know.

When I'm finished reading, Brutus the Platypus gives me a grin and a wink. Just like that, the ice has been broken.

Lunch is spent with me blathering on and him responding with some sort of gesture. It's peaceful, amicable. I offer to give him a quiche to take home to his wife, but he writes that she has "a lot of dietary restrictions." Which makes sense if she's a normal platypus, but I'm not dumb enough to reveal that I know that about her.

What happened to all the anxiety I felt over Brutus's arrival? Where did it go? Nobody knows, and nobody cares.

Once we've filled our bellies, I walk him back to where his jetpack is waiting for him. He straps it on, and I say to him, "This was nice. I really enjoyed meeting you, Brutus the Platypus."

Perry the Platypus must get his smile from his mother, I note when Brutus the Platypus tips his hat in agreement. Brutus does have a nice smile of his own, though.

"You should come over again some time," I say and mean it. "And, bring your wife. I'd love to meet her."

Brutus the Platypus keeps smiling while shrugging one shoulder at a time. I'll think about it, the gesture reads.

Something has been on my mind since I first learned about Brutus's existence from those scientists. I need to get it out before he leaves. "You know, uh… Perry told me that you volunteered to thwart me while he was sick. You-you must love your son a lot."

Brutus the Playtpus nods once, and I now know what I look like when I'm bursting with pride for Vanessa. Or, what I would look like if I was a platypus.

My father never once had that look when it came to me. Neither of my parents did. All their pride and affection went straight to Roger.

"That's good," I say through the lump in my throat. "I'm glad one of us has a good relationship with their parents. His mom loves him too, right?"

Another nod is Brutus's response.

I swallow thickly. "Alright. I won't keep you any longer. I-I just wanted to clarify that. Say hi to your wife for me, and do bring her over some time."

A quick thumbs-up, and Brutus shoots into the sky.

Everything bubbles to the surface as soon as he disappears behind a building. Perry's father is so…kind. I knew going into this that he loved his son, but I hadn't anticipated how at ease I would feel around him. After the initial anxiety wore off, that is.

Now that I've met and spent time with Brutus the Platypus, I have a better understanding of why Perry the Platypus is the way he is. A man like Brutus would raise his son to be just as kind and patient and understanding. I bet the death of his daughter only added to his appreciation for the child who did make it. And, I bet he still mourns the loss of the child who didn't.

Does Perry know how lucky he is? He could have easily had a father like mine. Someone who forces you to stand outside in a gnome costume all day and all night, no matter the weather, and screams "Bewege dich nicht!" if you move so much as a centimeter. Who gets a dog and names it Only Son (which became awkward after Roger was born). Who hits you with whatever's handy over the slightest misdemeanor or because he's mad at someone else and you just happen to be standing there.

And, OWCA thinks Brutus the Platypus is expendable.

I feel something slide down my cheek and wonder when I started crying. My phone chimes, and I dry my face on my lab coat sleeve before checking my phone. It's a text from Perry the Platypus.

Just got off the phone with my dad. You really made an impression on him.😊

I sniffle and text him back.

Good impression or bad impression? We were getting along, but I feel like I wasted his time by not having anything for him to thwart.

I have enough time to compose myself before what Perry tells me next threatens to undo that.

Don't sell yourself short, Heinz. Dad's been looking for an excuse to have one-on-one time with you since I revealed that our animosity had become a friendimosity. He's more of a social butterfly than I am, but it does mean something if he likes you. And, he DOES like you.

My chin trembles. A single teardrop escapes. I text him back.

You better appreciate how lucky you are to have parents who care about you.

His response breaks me.

I do, and I wish you knew what that felt like. If it's any consolation, Vanessa knows that feeling.

I throw my hand over my mouth as my shoulders shake and my tears flow.

My sweet little girl. Since the moment she was born, I did everything I could to avoid being my father, and I still couldn't do anything right. Vanessa thought I was too clingy and she hated the girly stuff I bought her. I was always too loud and weird and embarrassing.

Yet, Vanessa loves me anyway.

I sniffle and gulp down air until I've calmed down enough to text Perry back.

Thanks for making me cry, you jerk. Speaking of feelings, how are you? Any better? Any worse?

It takes him a bit to reply.

Took a short nap. That helped, but I'm still off my game. Curse you, immune system!🤣🤣🤣

A tiny chuckle slips out of me even though I know Perry the Platypus is lying about why he's so unwell. He sends another message.

I'll stop by tomorrow so you can tell me your news. I get the sense it's something that needs to be shared in person.

Oh, it is. The truth about his "physicals" is just the tip of the iceberg.

Perry the Platypus texts me again.

Btw, I was scrolling through Watchflix and found this show called My Happy Arranged Marriage. It's an anime that sounds like a period soap with superpowers. I know how you feel about subtitles, but I checked and there's an English dub. You game? We need something to binge now that Truly, Madly, Awkwardly is over.

He has no idea that I'm going to turn his world upside-down tomorrow. I text him back.

I'll try anything once. See you tomorrow but only if you really are feeling up to coming.

His response is immediate.

See you then.

Yes, I will see him then. And, God only knows how he'll react.

Another thought hits me, and I send it to Perry the Platypus.

One more thing. Your dad told me you're "VERY selective" with who you make friends with. Is that true?

A few moments pass before he replies.

Yep. There's no backstory, in case you're wondering. It's just how I am. Do you feel special?😉

The winky face tells me that Perry the Platypus is joking, but I truly am touched. I always imagined Perry the Platypus being super popular and having dozens of friends. But, it sounds like he might have only a small handful of friends. Not because people don't like him, but because he picks and chooses who to trust.

And, for whatever reason, he picked me.

He sends me another message.

Gotta go. Two of my other friends have been looking after me all day, and now they're gonna make me watch some new kids' show called Infinite Monorail. Don't know what it's about, but I guess I'll find out.

I wonder who those two other lucky souls are who earned Perry's trust. I send him one final message.

Never heard of it. Have fun!

Now all that's left to do is try not to drive myself crazy while waiting for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Heinz

Perry the Platypus shrieks and struggles against the iron grips of Janine and Alex. They slam him down on an examination table, and metal straps slide over his wrists, ankles, and tail, trapping him. His chittering increases in volume and terror as he tries futilely to rip himself free, thrashing his head from side to side.

Janine backhands Perry the Platypus in the bill, and Alex screams, "Bewege dich nicht!" at him.

Perry now only whimpers while his damp eyes lock on to the scalpel in Janine's hand. She plunges into his chest-

"PERRY!"

I shoot upright in bed. My breaths are fast and shallow. It's dark. Spots coat my vision.

The door slams open, and a scream rips out of me, sending me flailing into the head rest.

"Dad?" The voice is robotic, artificially masculine. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

The sound I make is too similar to Perry's panicked whines.

Soon my bed dips profusely, and something cold and hard and metal presses against me. "Breathe in and out, Dad," the robotic voice says while what feels like a large metal hand rubs my side. "You will feel better soon."

Norm. It's Norm. Safe, familiar Norm sitting beside me on the bed and probably ruining my mattress with his bulk while he allows me to nuzzle him. The whirring of his internal structure soothes me until I stop shaking and my breathing evens out.

But, nothing can erase that horrific image from my mind. Nor, can anything change how close to real-life events it must be. I hope they at least put Perry the Platypus under heavy anesthesia before they…do that.

When I can function again, I give Norm a light pat on his large hand. "Thank you, son."

There's a long, long pause, so long that I think Norm powered down. Then he turns a big grin on me that glows brighter than I've ever seen. "Did you just call me what I think you called me?"

Uh…

I shove him off of me - well, I shove myself off of him since he's so big - and cross my arms and turn my head so his night vision can't see my reddened face. "I'm emotionally compromised, Norm! Don't read into it!"

"There's hope!"

"What did I just say?"

I didn't sleep a wink after that. It wasn't the first time I had a nightmare that transitioned into a panic attack, and it won't be the last. At least I finally got Norm to stop bugging me by suggesting he go visit his sister at her mother's house.

…Not that I think of Norm and Vanessa as brother and sister or anything like that. It's just, well, those two think of themselves as brother and sister and, um-

Anyway, I spent the remainder of the night busying myself with household tasks I've been putting off. When I ran out of those, I downed a big mug of coffee and had a handful of dry cereal for breakfast because my nerves stole my appetite. Now I'm on my balcony and working on the bad-idea-inator, though I'm so spacy that I'm not working on it very much.

Perry the Platypus didn't say when he would be here. He could be coming at eight o'clock tonight for all I know! Maybe I should build a Perry-attract-inator to bring him here.

But, what if he's still recovering? He might not be coming at all today. I mean, the poor guy was essentially vivisected-

I shiver and tighten my grip on the wrench in my hand. There is no "essentially" here. OWCA's scientists cut Perry open, poked and prodded at him, took samples of him. My precious nemesis was vivisected.

That handful of cereal is heavy in my stomach.

There's a faint humming that's steadily getting louder. I look up from the inator and nearly collapse with relief. Perry the Platypus is flying in on his hovercar, parking it on the opposite end of my balcony. Which means that not only do I not have to wait any longer, but he must be feeling better.

"Perry the Platypus," I greet, wincing at the pain in my knees as I rise to my feet, leaving the wrench on the floor by my inator. "You look more like your old self. I assume. I don't know what you looked like yesterday when you were sick, but you are most likely looking better, correct?"

Perry the Platypus's smile is genuine as he gives me thumbs-up. He motions to get out of his hovercar when suddenly there's a beeping sound that draws his attention to the dash. He holds up his index finger then presses a button. Something rectangular rises out of the dash, and I discover that it's a screen once I hear Francis's voice.

"Greetings, Agent P," Francis says. "I'm sure you're aware of the data breach that occurred yesterday."

Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic.

What Francis says next makes it really hard not to panic. "Well, we've traced the breach to Doofenshmirtz. Which is weird because hacking isn't usually his thing. He's always been more of the 'blow it up' type- Agent P? You're, uh, not looking at me anymore."

That's because he's too busy giving me that squinty glare he reserves for people who really, really tick him off. I swallow thickly and rub one hand over the other and regret even trying to eat breakfast.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you're not giving me that look, but-"

Without taking his eyes off me, Perry the Platypus cuts off his boss by grabbing the screen and rotating it so that Francis can gawk at me in surprise. I wave with an anxious grin because I don't know what else to do.

"Oh! You're-you're already at Doof's."

The screen turns back around to face the very angry monotreme who is still trying to murder me with his eyes. I knew there was a reason I updated my will last week.

"Nice hustle, Agent P!" Francis praises. "Always one step ahead. That's why you're one of the best!"

And, why he isn't expendable.

The thought storms in and brings a moment of clarity. And, the risk of shooting myself in the foot, but when have I ever kept my mouth shut? "Wait, were you seriously going to send him on a mission the day after he was out sick?"

The screen turns around on its own and tilts slightly so Francis has a better look at me as I storm up to the hovercar. "Do you have something you'd like to say, Heinz?"

I ball my fists at my sides. "Hell yeah, I do, Francis! Perry the Platypus was sick yesterday, and you're going to make him thwart me anyway? What if I had been doing something super evil? Like-like more evil than usual, is what I'm saying. What if I had some big, nasty inator that could have really hurt him? Don't you care that your precious agent could still be sick?"

Francis has the gall to respond to my rant with a deadpan, "Does he look sick to you?"

"No, but that's not the point!"

"Heinz, we would never send a sick agent into the field. Agent P is here because he feels well enough to be here. End of story."

While all this is happening, Perry the Platypus is watching me like I'm a jigsaw puzzle and he has all the pieces but can't figure out where they go. It's better than the murderous expression, but it still sends goosebumps up my arms.

The screen turns back to Perry the Platypus. "Agent P," Francis says, "we need you to find the downloaded files and delete them from Doof's computer."

"I'm standing right here!" I shout.

Perry the Platypus squint-glares at me again before returning his attention to his boss, who ignores me entirely. "Carl has just sent the file IDs to your phone. Please note that you don't have the clearance to actually view those files- In fact, neither do I. Carl, why don't I have the clearance for those files?"

A nasally voice replies, "I don't know, sir."

"Well, find out!" Francis barks before sending Perry the Platypus off with, "Either way, you have your mission. Get to it, Agent P! And, give Doofenshmirtz a couple of bruises while you're at it."

Perry the Platypus squint-glares at me and cracks one knuckle at a time, and I take a few shaky steps back. Is it too late to double-check my will?

Francis turns back to me with a pitying look. "Heinz, I'd say it's been nice knowing you…but it really hasn't."

The screen goes black and sinks back into the dash, and Perry the Platypus purposely takes his time getting out of his hovercar.

I back up until I bump into my unfinished inator and throw my hands out in front of me. "W-w-wait, Perry the Platypus!" He stops about two feet away, but his hands are still fisted at his sides and that look remains on his face. "Before you bludgeon me, will you at least let me explain myself?"

Perry the Platypus is still squinting, but he crosses his arms and relaxes his posture enough that I can breathe again. I'm still in the frying pan, but at least I'm out of the oven.

For now.

"Okay, so it all started when I learned that you and your fellow agents were genetically modified. I got curious as to how that process works, since you don't know and we both know Francis won't tell me. Then, I was reading through Norm's instruction manual and discovered that he is capable of hacking into databases. And, by 'databases,' I mean those learning tablets that parents give to their toddlers so they don't have to actually parent. Seriously, Perry the Platypus, do you know how many toddlers I've seen latched on to their parent's phone? You know, studies show that too much screen time at such a young age-"

Perry the Platypus chitters and makes a show of looking at his watch/wrist-com.

"Wow, you are moody today. Of course, I did steal information so classified that even you and Major Monogram don't have the clearance for it, so I guess your attitude is justified. Anyway, I modified Norm so that he could hack into something actually useful. I also built a drone-inator to sneak into OWCA Headquarters- Hey, what's with the face? Why do you look like someone just pinched you in an awkward spot?"

Perry the Platypus drops the expression while waving his hands in front of him and vehemently shaking his head. His signature stoicism is back in place when he twirls his wrist, silently telling me to keep talking and not ask questions.

Okay… "Eh, so I sent in the drone-inator. Norm copied some data. Don't ask how he did that. It was…" A smidgen of heat creeps over me at the memory. "It was a very poor design choice. Let's leave it at that. But, what I discovered! Oh man, you-you are not gonna believe this! Come on!"

I run to my lab and hear my nemesis on my heels. Not literally. He's not dangling on my heels. But, he is very close behind me.

Considering how angry he is that I snuck in and copied classified files, there's a very slim chance of him believing anything I say. But, he deserves to know what's happening not just to him, but to the other agents as well.

I sit down at my computer and pull up the files, monologuing to keep myself grounded. "I was going to use my newfound information for evil, but then I actually got that information and…" I shake my head as though that will dispel all these negative thoughts from my mind. "I can't. I can't do it, Perry the Platypus. You are free to delete all of it from my computer, but you have to at least see this for yourself first."

My nemesis makes a startled noise when I jump out of my chair, pick him up, and place him in the seat. I get down on the ground to raise the seat as high as it will go, and Perry the Platypus says, "Krkrkrkr!" in response.

"I know you 'don't have clearance,'" I say as I stand up, "but you've gotta see this! Please, Perry!"

Something about either my face or my desperate tone gets through to him, though his reluctance is plain as day. I'm still calling it a win.

"How about this," I suggest. "I'll show you the recording that isn't part of the classified files, and if you still don't want to see the classified stuff after that, I'll let you delete it without argument."

Perry the Platypus thinks it over before gesturing to the monitor, accepting the compromise.

I pull up the video of those two scientists. Unfortunately, the video kicks off with the drone-inator entering the building, so I have to do some fast forwarding. Perry the Platypus chitters accusingly at me when he and Frieda the Flamingo appear on the screen.

"Yes, I know about your physicals," I say, "but that's not relevant! Well, actually it is relevant but not yet! Will you quit giving me that squinty glare? I didn't intend to infringe on your privacy! It just happened!" I pause the video mid-fast forward because I need to settle another thing that's been bugging me. "Perry the Platypus, if you had a chronic illness, you'd tell me, right? I just- I don't want to hurt you during our fights. Well, I do want to hurt you, just-just not in some irreparable way."

Perry the Platypus softens a little and holds out his hands then lowers them slightly.

"You…aren't chronically ill?"

He shakes his head, and a small portion of tension seeps out of me. Only to return tenfold with the knowledge that OWCA's scientists dig around in Perry's body when he isn't sick.

I know I told him that it was up to him whether or not he looked at those files, but I need him to look at them!

Maybe not all of them, though. He shouldn't have to know what he looks like on the inside.

Once I reach the part with the scientists' discussion, starting with Alex asking why Perry the Platypus gets those physicals, I step back and wring my hands while I watch my nemesis's reaction. He watches and listens intently, revealing nothing until Janine brings up his sister's death.

At that point, his shoulders hunch inward ever so slightly, though his face remains impassive.

I pause the video but keep my hand on the mouse, needing something to hold. "Perry the Platypus…did you know about your sister?"

Perry the Platypus sighs through his nostrils and gives his head a few mournful nods. Then he gestures to the computer, so I let the video keep playing.

We reach the part where Janine describes how Brutus the Platypus one day charged in with his gravely ill son in tow. Perry the Platypus softens considerably when Janine says that it was "the one and only time" anyone saw his father cry. Perry and Brutus are obviously very close.

Why couldn't I have had that with my father?

Then we get to the revealing part. The part where Janine says, "...animals are expendable anyway, so who really cares in the long run? But, Perry was the first half-agent, half-normal-animal in OWCA's history to survive! This was a perfect scientific opportunity!"

Perry the Platypus leans forward, stroking his chin as he analyzes every word. I have no idea what he's thinking; the man's poker face is the stuff of legends.

It is at this point that the drone-inator is found and mistaken for a spider, and there isn't anything else noteworthy in the video, so I click out of it.

"You see?" I say with a broad gesture to the monitor. "They think you guys are expendable just because you're animals! They go to the trouble of saving your lives, of increasing your intelligence and training you to be soldiers, yet they don't care if you get killed on the field! They talk about you as if you are replaceable! Doesn't that bother you, Perry the Platypus?"

Perry the Platypus drums his fingers on his knee, giving away nothing, but his hunched shoulders don't lie. Janine's words and Alex's nonchalance do bother him, even if he's only showing it subconsciously.

Then he shakes his head and points to the monitor then raises two fingers with a stern look at me.

"I know we only have the opinions of two people to go off of," I say, "but you aren't as made of stone as you pretend to be, Perry the Platypus. And, if those two are so open about their opinions, how do you know other people in OWCA don't feel the same way?"

Perry the Platypus doesn't respond. He only turns his poker face back to the screen.

I'm gonna have to break out the big guns. I'd planned to do it all along, but I was hoping he'd be willing after that first part. I sigh. "Perry the Platypus, I know I said I'd let you delete everything after that first video, but I'm evil, so I'm going back on my promise. You need to see-"

He grabs my wrist when I reach for the mouse. His squint-glare is a clear warning.

I sigh harder and run my free hand over my face. "I admire your loyalty, Perry the Platypus. I really do. But…but, haven't you ever wondered how the genetic modification works? Have you never questioned how ordinary mindless animals on their deathbed become crime fighters?"

Perry the Platypus switches his gaze from me to the floor and back so quickly that I would have missed it if I'd blinked. He points at the monitor then points to himself and shakes his head.

I pry my wrist out of his grasp. "I know you don't have clearance for those files, but…" An idea pops into my head. "What if I read them to you? I've already read them, like, twenty times, so it really doesn't matter if I do it again."

Perry the Platypus does the same thing. Points at the monitor, then himself, then the head shake. With a bonus "Krkrkrkr," thrown in with the head shake.

I was prepared for this. If Plan C doesn't convince him, then I'm out of options. "Do you know a chihuahua named Pinky?"

That did the trick. Perry the Platypus drops his glare, watching me with a cautious curiosity.

"I thought so," I say. "I remember you teamed up with a chihuahua agent when I tried to steal the deed to the Tri-State Area, but I never caught his name. Norm copied his file along with a few others. Did you know that Pinky the Chihuahua was brought to OWCA because he ate chocolate when he was nine months old?" Which seemed weird to me until I looked it up and learned that chocolate is a deadly poison for dogs.

Perry the Platypus gives me a side-eye but nods.

Now we lean into the hard stuff… "Did you know that he was brought in around the same time OWCA lost their best hacker, and Pinky the Chihuahua replaced him?"

Total poker face.

Now we dive in with a strained voice and a racing heart. "Did you know Pinky's brain matter was mixed with a dolphin's?"

Perry the Platypus's face twists up in confusion. What in God's name are you talking about? the look asks.

I grab the mouse before he can stop me. "This is what I meant when I said that you need to look these over. Yes, Pinky the Chihuahua is a dog, but he's also got parts from other animals! Not just dolphins, but also," I pull up the file and double-check, " rhinoceros and cheetah and beagle…which is still a dog, but it isn't there naturally!"

I stop talking when I see that Perry the Platypus has his little pad and pen out and is writing something down. The look of genuine concern makes me think he's finally listening to me.

Then he shows me what he wrote: Are you on a new medication I should know about?

I stamp down my frustration. "I realize this sounds insane, but could you please just humor me and read the file? Look me in the eyes, Perry the Platypus, and tell me I'm lying to you!"

Whatever he sees in my eyes convinces him to do as he's told, though the poor guy reeks of guilt.

That guilt slowly evaporates the more he reads. I don't need to read it with him. I already know what it says. After Charles the Chimp died, OWCA was down a tech expert. A few days later, a young chihuahua who had ingested chocolate was brought in. OWCA seized the opportunity.

The muscles in Pinky the Chihuahua's legs were replaced with those of a cheetah so he would be fast enough to escape if he were discovered hacking enemy databases.

Dolphin and raven brain matter was fused with his own for hyper intelligence, exactly what they would need in a tech specialist.

His skin was replaced with that of a rhinoceros so he couldn't be hurt as easily in the field.

His sense of smell was heightened by his nasal cavity being combined with a beagle's. They also snuck a bit of beagle into his brain for added loyalty and hunting instincts.

That's not even getting into the alterations that made him anthropomorphic, but that was the scientific part I'd expected. Not the…other stuff.

Norm copied six agent files, not including Perry the Platypus's, and they're all just as horrifying.

Perry the Platypus hasn't even seen his own yet.

I've got him now. He gets up and stands on the edge of the chair, allowing him to reach the mouse. He clicks out of the Pinky the Chihuahua's file and opens another one, this one being Herman the Hedgehog's. Then, Ruth the Pig's. Samson the Squirrel's. Joanne the Bluejay's. Betsy the Cow's.

Perry the Platypus pauses with the cursor over the last document: PERRYPLATYPUS.

Yeah, he isn't poker-facing so much anymore. He has one hand on my desk for balance and the other on the mouse, and he seems…bigger? No, not bigger. His fur is standing on end; a rarity for him.

"Let me handle that one," I offer. "There are some things in that document that you shouldn't be seeing."

He smacks my hand away when I reach for the mouse and clicks on the document. This takes him to a new page with multiple files. I see his grip tighten on the mouse. He starts with the one that's similar to the medical reports about the other agents, though his is a little different since he was born with enhanced DNA.

I don't need to read this one with him either; the contents are forever burned into my brain.

When his body was breaking down because of all the animal odds and ends he'd inherited that shouldn't have been there, those freaks weren't going to let the first surviving half-agent baby slip through their fingers. They combed through all the preserved animal parts - shudder - they had available, struggling to find things that would take. Apparently, because Perry the Platypus already had wonky DNA, unlike the other dying animals brought in, it was difficult to modify him the way they did the others.

They almost lost him three times.

Perry the Platypus's breathing picks up speed as he runs his fingers over his body, probably wondering if it's really supposed to feel that way when his skin has been replaced with that of an elephant.

If his muscles are supposed to move like that when they've been swapped with a gorilla's.

If he's supposed to think the way he does when he's got labrador retriever and Abyssinian cat and a bunch of artificial stimulants in his brain.

If he would still have his venomous spurs if the venom hadn't been interfering with the process.

They told everyone he had venom displacement, but that couldn't have been farther from the truth.

He clicks out of that and moves the cursor over another file.

"I don't think you should-"

He does it. He clicks, and a video pops up. My stomach churns, and I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut and throw my hands over my ears. I don't want to watch my best friend get vivisected again. I don't want to hear the "doctor's" cold commentary on the way Perry's lungs work or the steady contractions of his beating heart.

Eventually, I can bring myself to at least check Perry the Platypus's reaction, which is about as bad as I expected.

The video has graciously been clicked out of, but it's left its mark. Perry the Platypus is scrunched into a ball against the back of the chair, emitted too quick, too shallow breaths. His head is bowed, his fedora covering all but the top of his orange bill. His hands are tugging on the collar adorning his neck. Is it too tight? Probably not, but I've had enough panic attacks to know that everything is too tight in the throws of one.

My heart aches as I drop to my knees to better face him. "Perry the Platypus?" I say quietly. "I-is your collar too tight? I can take it off for you. Here, let me get that."

I slowly move my hands toward the offending accessory-

"Eeehhhsss!"

Several things happen in rapid succession. Perry the Platypus hisses at me, something I didn't even know he could do. He jumps up and spins mid-air to kick my hand, sending me reeling back and falling on my tush and crying out in pain. Then, he leaps off the chair and runs on all-fours to quiver in the corner of the room, curled up on his stomach like a regular platypus.

I can only watch pityingly. I wonder if all agents revert to a normal animal mindset during a panic attack or if that's just how they affect Perry the Platypus.

"O-okay," I stammer. "No touching. I'll just…be over here when you're ready for me."

Since there's nothing I can do, I check the damage to my right hand since it is positively burning. Why did I ever think installing pain receptors was a good idea?

I gasp because I was expecting a really bad bruise, for lack of a better word, not a puncture wound. A thin line of artificial skin has been torn open, starting just below my thumb and ending at my wrist, exposing the scratched titanium underneath. Below my thumb, where the kick connected, there is a tiny hole in the metal, barely big enough to expose the hidden wiring. I shudder at the sight.

Perry the Platypus didn't just kick me. He stabbed me. With his spurs. Thank badness my arms are prosthetics, or I'd be in a heap of trouble right now.

Wait a minute. I thought Perry the Platypus's ankle barbs and venomous glands had been surgically removed. I take a risk and get down on my hands and knees, crawling a little bit closer for a better look. The way his tail is curled around his quivering form makes it hard to see, and I have to drop all the way down to the floor as a result, but there are tiny points curled out from the ankles of his little webbed feet.

I rise to a kneeling position. "Perry the Platypus, how can you have ankle barbs? I'm certain both you and those documents said they were removed years ago. Do ankle barbs grow back? What about your venomous glands? Do those grow back, too? Should I be worried?"

Perry the Platypus makes a high-pitched keening noise that reminds me he's still panicking.

Guilt slams into me. "I'm sorry. I-I'll shut up. You can tell me later, but I really would like to know- Sorry. I'll stop talking for real now."

Perry the Platypus doesn't raise his head, but he twirls his wrist toward me before grabbing his collar again. I'm starting to wonder if he isn't clutching it because it's choking him, but rather because it's some sort of comfort object. It's usually hidden under his fur, but I've caught glimpses of the light brown strap and the orange platypus-foot-shaped charm often enough to deduce that he wears it all the time. It must mean something to him.

"You want me to keep talking?" When he doesn't protest, I do what I think he's asking me to do. "Uh, let's see. I could talk about… No, that's not… You don't want to hear that. That's not an appropriate backstory for this situation. Um…"

You have got be kidding me.

"I…I got nothing. I got nothing! I can't believe this! The one time somebody wants me to babble incessantly, I can't think of anything to talk about! Normally, I just ramble on and on and on, yet now I can't think of anything to say? I talk up a storm without prompting, yet when I am prompted, I'm silent? Does that make any sense?"

I could keep going, but there's a tap on my thigh and I see that Perry the Platypus is standing in front of me and looking horribly ashamed.

"Are you okay now, Perry the Platypus?"

He nods and grimaces at my damaged hand before rubbing his arm and turning his gaze downward.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," I assure. "Lots of people get panic attacks, myself included as you know. Plus, I know thwarting me isn't the only part of your job. You must get into all kinds of scary situations."

Perry the Platypus shakes his head then points to my damaged hand.

"Oh! You feel bad about my hand!"

He turns away again in reply.

I wave off his concern. "Eh, don't worry about it. I know from experience that you don't think during a panic attack. You just panic." Last night being a good example. I push the memory aside and examine the exposed metal and wiring in my hand and determine, "This'll take no time to fix. And, your venom won't harm me since you didn't stab my actual body. A-are you venomous?"

Perry the Platypus shakes his head then turns to show off his cute little foot. I crouch down and note with interest that there's no longer a barb there. Then Perry the Platypus twists his foot a certain way, and a pointy barb pokes out of his ankle. Another twist, and the barb goes back in. I then watch with a scientific curiosity as he bends over and tugs on a strap that so perfectly matches his fur that I didn't notice it until the fuzzy teal band was held up in its owner's hand.

"Oh, I see!" I return to kneeling upright. "Your barbs are prosthetics! Are they venomous?"

Perry the Platypus shakes his head with a proud grin and hands me the band, allowing me to take a closer look.

I am happy to oblige. The band both looks and feels like a tiny ring of platypus fur, and there's a barely noticeable hole where the barb must come out. I twist the band this way and that, but nothing I do causes the artificial barb to appear. Does it only happen when Perry the Platypus is wearing it? Or, is it only the monotreme himself who can activate it? Is that why it matches his fur so well? Is it keyed into his DNA?

"This is really something," I comment. "Is this OWCA tech, or-"

Perry the Platypus isn't in front of me anymore. I hear the rapid clicking of a keyboard and twist around to see him standing on the chair in front of my computer, typing away. I watch in mounting dread as all the files Norm copied vanish from the screen.

I shoot to my feet. "Oh, come on! After everything you just learned, you're still deleting everything?"

His trademark stoicism is back in place as he holds out his hand and wags his fingers in a "gimmee gimmee" manner. I hand him his prosthetic and watch him strap it back on.

"Don't tell me you're just going to brush all this off," I snap. "I just watched you have a panic attack over it, so I know you're as disturbed as I am. Actually, I know you're more disturbed than I am because-"

Perry the Platypus points down at the CPU on the floor, where I now see a light blue flashdrive sticking out.

Now I'm more confused than irritated. "You're-you're downloading it? I didn't steal it, Perry the Platypus, I just copied it. Well, Norm copied it, but I reprogrammed him so that he could, so technically it was me who copied all that data."

Perry the Platypus jumps off the chair, pulls out the flashdrive, and stuffs it into his fedora. Then, with the serious demeanor he's known for, he looks up at me and sends me a hearty salute.

The lightbulb goes off. "You're…going to look into this?"

Another salute is his response.

"I don't know, Perry the Platypus. I don't want you to get hurt the wrong way. I know how much your job means to you-"

He gestures up and down over his chest as if to say, This is my body we're talking about!

I can see that I can't stop him. "Well, you at least can't be doing this on your own. Do you have other agents you can trust? I know you've got your dad, but I doubt you'd want to involve him. Unless you think you can. I-I don't know what your stance is on that."

Perry the Platypus frowns deeper and looks down in thought.

"Can you think of anyone you can trust with this? Maybe someone who's really good with computers? Good enough that any hacking can't be traced back to either of you?"

Perry the Platypus must think of someone, as he nods up at me with a new spark in his eyes.

The knot in my stomach eases, but I still feel queasy. "Okay, Perry the Platypus. If you trust this person, then so do I."

Perry the Platypus makes a lip-zipping motion. Er, bill-zipping.

"Yes, I'll keep this to myself." I raise my right hand for emphasis. "Evil scientist's honor."

With a firm, approving nod, Perry the Platypus sprints out of my lab.

I head over to my workbench to get started on repairing my hand. It's good that I've done this enough times that I don't need to think too hard about what I'm doing, because my mind is in a fog.

Chapter Text

Perry

Heinz, you fucking moron! How dare you steal from the agency! I am going to crack your skull open with a spoon!

…Is what I thought before I went against every instinct and looked at those files.

I tighten my grip on my jetpack straps and tell myself that it's the jet propulsions making me tremble. Gorilla and cat and dog and elephant. Yet, I've spent my whole life calling myself a platypus. What about all the other agents? I've seen the unnatural makeups of six others, but what about everyone else? Where do the scientists doctors even get those parts?

I'm so lost in thought that I fly straight into a bird. We both stumble in the air but quickly regain our footing, so to speak.

The bird flies away, shouting, "Watch where you're going, you weird duck!"

"Sorry!" I call after him even though he clearly wasn't paying attention either. I'm too frazzled to get annoyed or inform him that I'm a platypus, not a duck.

Am I a platypus, though? When I have all these other animals tucked away under my fur, unnoticed until today? When my own DNA is the reason I no longer have venomous spurs, only the prosthetic non-toxic ones that Phineas and Ferb made me when they noticed?

What am I?

I tell myself that it's a trick, that Heinz faked those documents. But, for a man who calls himself a villain, he isn't the best liar. I could see the truth, the fear, the pain in those dark blue eyes. Even if everything I read is fabricated, Heinz believes that it's all true.

I need to investigate prove that this is all nonsense. Because there is no way it can be real.

I'd rather not involve anyone else, partly because that would force me to admit that I looked at classified documents, but I don't have the tech know-how required.

I know Pinky will say yes. He lives for this kind of stuff, and his moral code is flexible. When I told my parents that Pinky could rob the IRS blind… Let's just say that he still hasn't been caught. When I asked him why he would do something so insane, his response was, "I just wanted to see if I could."

So, yeah, Pinky won't have any problems with this. Though, I'm not sure if I should let him see his own file.

Heinz brought up my father, but I'm a little more hesitant about that. Dad's much more of a "by the book" kind of guy than Pinky is. On the other hand, Dad also believes that rules should be broken if a situation calls for it. Still, he wouldn't be happy to know that I read documents I'm not allowed to.

On the other other hand…I'd like to ask him about the venom displacement I didn't have. Does he know the truth?

Okay. I'll talk to Dad and Pinky. Is there anyone else? Maybe Frieda? I know she wouldn't talk. If anything, she'll get a kick out of knowing I broke the rules.

Is three people too many? This is most likely false information, but what if it isn't? Heinz is right that I need a team of agents I can trust, and I trust those three more than anyone else in the Organization Without a Cool Acronym.

Except maybe Carl, but three people is already pushing it for me and I don't want to put the poor kid in an awkward position, given how closely he works with Major Monogram.

My heart stops for a split second when I see my boys and their friends on the streets below, but they're all too busy running around in human-sized hamster balls to look up. Guess the boys felt like doing something low-key today.

I smile at the sight of the kids having fun but feel a familiar urge to tell Phineas and Ferb everything. They would definitely help. Hell, knowing them, they might even think the genetic modification process was cool until Ferb pointed out to Phineas how disturbed I am by it.

I shake off the thought. Even if Phineas and Ferb could know about my double life, this is far too dangerous for them to be involved.

Assuming it's all true. Which it isn't.

I park myself on the roof of my house and start a group text with Dad, Pinky, and Frieda. I use my personal cellphone and theirs so that OWCA can't trace it.

Are you guys free? I uncovered something that may or may not be real, but I need to discuss it with agents I trust. Agents who WON'T TELL ANYONE.

The replies come moments apart.

Pinky: Sounds exciting! Where should we meet?

Frieda: I'm intrigued. Time and place?

Dad: Is there a safe place we can talk?

I mull over my options before sending a separate text to someone who's affiliated with OWCA but only as emergency back-up since she doesn't have any formal training. In other words, the higher-ups don't pay any attention to her.

Can I use your house as a meeting spot? It's pretty hush-hush, limited to the group I'm meeting with.

As expected from a teenage girl, Stacy replies within seconds.

Oooo! Sounds serious! Ur in luck! My mom took an extra shift & Ginger's at her friend's house. C'mon over!

I send Stacy's address to my fellow agents and tell them to come right away, adding that Pinky should bring his personal laptop. They all know who Stacy is, but Pinky's the only one who's seen her in person.

I fly to the Hirano residence and land in the backyard to wait with my stomach in knots and my fur standing on end. Pinky is the first to arrive, flying in with his average-sized laptop case dangling from his paws. (Sadly, only the O.W.C.A. makes chihuahua-sized laptops, not that that's ever stopped him.) Dad and Frieda arrive hot on his tail. Needless to say, Frieda the Flamingo is the only one who doesn't arrive via jetpack.

"So, what's this about, son?" Dad asks, all business and he's not the only one.

They know I wouldn't do this sort of thing over nothing. Except that it absolutely is nothing!

"Before we go in there," I say, "I need to reiterate how important your silence is. I selected the three of you for this because I would trust all of you with the lives of my boys. I don't need to explain the significance of that."

Pinky goes rigid and tightens his grip on the handle of the laptop case lying partially on the grass. "Are Phineas and Ferb in danger?"

"It was just a metaphor," I assure him. "The boys are fine. The reason I called all of you here is… Well, the best case scenario is that it's some prank that you can all make fun of me for falling for."

"And, the worst case?" Dad asks.

I take a fortifying breath. "The worst case is that… I'll put it this way. If what I learned turns out to fact rather than fiction, it could send us up the creek without a paddle. Especially if this gets out. I need to know with one and ten hundred percent certainty that nothing will leave Stacy's house. Will you all grant me that certainty?"

Frieda raises her right wing. "You have my word, Perry. You're talking this up so much that I can't not go along with it!"

Pinky bounces on his feet, quivering harder with excitement. "I'm into this too, so I'll keep quiet!"

To my surprise, my father has his hands on his hips and is chuckling and shaking his head. "Perry, you don't need to make a big production out of this."

"Come again?" I ask. The faces and shrugs from the other two imply that they're as confused as I am.

Dad walks up to my side and drapes his arm over my shoulders. "Son, I speak for everyone here when I say that we love you. And, I speak for your mother and myself when I say that Heinz will always be welcome in our home-"

"What are you talking about?"

Dad opens his mouth, sees the honest confusion wafting off of me, spots a similar emotion from our fellow agents, and pulls away. "Uh, clearly not what you're talking about. Nevermind. It doesn't matter." He clears his throat and takes a few more steps back. "But, yeah, I-I won't tell anyone about-about the thing you actually called us here for." He punctuates this with a wide fake grin.

"Okay…" I drawl.

Now that whatever that was is out of the way, I turn around and walk up to the glass door. I knock to a specific rhythm that will let Stacy know it's me.

Knock kn-knock kn-knock knock. Knock kn-knock kn-knock knock.

Instantly, a sixteen-year-old Asian human wearing a teal shirt and a blue skirt appears and slides the door open. Stacy Hirano greets us all with a warm smile. "Hi, Perry! And…"

Everyone came prepared, all whipping their business cards out at once for Stacy to read.

"Frieda, Brutus, and- Hey, you're Isabella's dog! Well, your secret's safe with me. And, that goes for the rest of you, too. C'mon in." Stacy moves aside for us then slides the door shut once everyone is in the living room and has left their jetpack by the door. "You guys do your agent thing. I'll be in my room so that I don't see anything classified." She says the word as if it's the coolest thing in the world. "In fact, I'm not even gonna look!" She covers her eyes with her hands and turns around. "I'm just gonna head up to my room and not see anything." Then she walks straight into a wall and uncovers her eyes. "I should probably see where I'm going, though."

As soon as she's out of earshot, Dad comments, "You have weird friends, son."

"Yes," I agree. "Yes, I do. Now, let's get down to business."

Frieda grins and rubs the tips of her wings together. "Give it to us, Perry. I'm on the edge of my seat! Wait." She steps over Dad to sit on the very end of the couch cushion. "Now I'm on the edge of my seat."

"Right," I chitter. "Before I get into this, I want you - and by 'you,' I mean 'Dad' - to swear that you, as in Dad, will neither judge me nor report me for this."

"Why am I being singled out?" Dad whines.

"Just promise."

He crosses his arms with a huff. "Fine. This is a judgement-free zone."

"Okay," Pinky barks. "Now I'm really interested."

"Me too," Frieda squawks. "Good thing I'm already on the edge of my seat!"

I blow out a breath and rub my hands together. No going back now. "So, you know how we had that data breach the other day? Pinky, don't say 'I told you so,' but it turns out it was Doofenshmirtz."

"I told you so!"

"I told you not to say that. Moving on," I add before Dad and Frieda can ask questions. "I got the files off of his computer, but I might have…read each document thoroughly before doing so."

Dad reacts the way I expected: rearing back in horror and exclaiming, "You looked at classified documents?!"

I hold up my hands. "Dad, this is a judgement-free zone, remember?"

"Perry Flynn-Fletcher, how could you-"

Frieda waves her wing at him. "Ah, lighten up, Brutus. Perry finally broke a rule!"

"I'm guessing this meeting is about what you found," Pinky says, kneeling down to set up his laptop on the floor. "Can I assume my laptop is about to come into play?"

Some of the tension melts off of me as I pull my flashdrive out of my fedora and hand it to him.

Dad jerks his gaze from one animal to the other and flails his arms around. "Does no one have a problem with this?"

Frieda curls the end of her wing into a fist and throws it into the air. "Rules are made to be broken!"

Dad throws his hands in the air and groans dramatically. Which is fair.

"You don't have to know all of it, Dad," I say. "But, there's a part about me that-"

"I don't wanna hear it!" Dad snaps while placing his hands over his ear holes.

I stomp up to him and yank his hands away. "It's about my health, Dad. About those physicals I get twice a year."

His expression slackens and I release him, satisfied that I have his attention.

"Hot bacon!" Pinky exclaims. His face is close enough to the monitor to make my eyes hurt. "I'm looking at Perry's file now. This can't be real!"

Frieda hops to her feet and settles beside Pinky. "Let me see!" she says, dropping her long neck down so she can read the document that discusses my physicals.

And, my…biology.

The discomfort in my stomach spreads to every inch of my body, making my skin prickle. I hadn't anticipated how…dirty I would feel, seeing other people comb over something so private. It was bad enough with Heinz, when I didn't know what was in those files until it was too late.

I'm choosing to share, so why does this feel worse?

Frieda's beak drops open, releasing a hushed exclamation of, "Hot bacon!"

"That's what I said!" Pinky barks. He pushes Frieda's head out of the way and clicks out of the page. "What are these videos?"

Panic blazes through me. "Please don't," I beg. "I only got through about twenty seconds of one before I had a panic attack."

Pinky and Frieda exchange pinched looks before the former says to me, "That bad?"

I suppress a shiver at the memory of seeing my own organs on screen. "That bad."

"I'll look at them on my own, then." Pinky clicks out of my file entirely but freezes with his paw over the touchpad.

What Frieda says to him next tells me why. "There's a file with your name, too." She doesn't sound as enthusiastic as she did before.

Now Pinky's fur is standing up. "I'm…ignoring it."

While they look at the other files, Dad is watching them with a look of petrified acceptance. He jumps when I nudge him with my elbow and…am I losing it, or does he look like he wants to cry?

"You don't have to read them, Dad," I say. "The only reason I'm showing you guys is because I need help confirming whether or not these are real. And, if they are real…" I blow out a breath and toss my hands at my sides. "I just have a bad feeling, alright?"

"Your feelings are usually pretty accurate," Pinky comments, pulling the flashdrive out and turning off his laptop. "Except in the case of you not keeping your bill shut."

"I don't manifest Heinz's schemes!" I argue. When Dad opens his bill, I hold up a hand a say, "Don't ask."

Pinky puts both objects in the laptop case, grabs the handle, and turns around to say to me, "I'm gonna look into this. See if it's real or not. If it does turn out to be real, I'll let you all know and we'll go from there."

"I appreciate it, Pinky," I chitter. "And, I'll make this up to you."

Pinky waves me off. "Please. I live for this stuff! You know that. I'll get started right away. I'll catch you guys later. Brutus, give Junie a hug for me."

"Will do," Dad says distractedly.

Frieda opens the back door for Pinky, then it's just the three of us. All traces of Frieda's initial excitement are gone, and what she says to my father sets off a bomb inside of me. "You need to tell him, Brutus."

Dad stammers a little before giving up on speaking.

I swallow hard. "Tell me what?"

Frieda gives me an apologetic look before saying, "I'll give you two some privacy."

Now it's just me and my father, who has his head down and his fists clenched at his sides.

"Dad?" I prompt when the silence becomes too much.

Dad blows out a long breath and looks up at the ceiling. Still not looking at me, he says, "None of this is news to me."

I let the words turn over and over in my head, but I can't make sense of them. "What?"

Dad gestures to the couch, resigned to his fate. "Let's sit down."

My knees shake as I follow him to the couch and jump up on there, sitting down beside him on the middle cushion. A breathy stress laugh pops out of me. "This feels like one of those scenes in soap operas where the main character finds out that his father isn't actually his father. This isn't like that, is it?"

Dad waves his hands in front of him. "No no no! You're definitely my son. Otherwise, your mom's got some explaining to do."

"Then, what's up? How can you already know about…all of that?"

Dad sighs and rubs his forehead, pushing up his gray fedora a bit. "When you got sick, I took you straight to the medical ward. Thankfully, we were already at headquarters at the time."

"I remember that," I say. "Vaguely. I was kind of in and out."

Dad's hand flops down at his side. He isn't looking at me, choosing to speak to our reflections in the blank television screen. "The doctors - scientists, whatever they really are - they took you in immediately and stopped me when I tried to follow you all in. That bothered me, but I understood that they needed to do their thing without distractions. I paced outside that door for what felt like hours. No one was telling me anything! It felt like I was the only one who cared." Dad takes a moment to breathe and regain his slipping control. I reach for his hand, which seems to give him some strength. He squeezes back before continuing. "Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and snuck in through a vent. We really need better security in that place."

"Ironic, ain't it?" I quip.

That draws a tiny and very brief smile out of him. "I made my way to the operating room and… They were in the middle of your surgery. It wasn't going well." Dad shuts his eyes and squeezes my hand tighter. His voice breaks. "I watched you flatline."

The file said that they almost lost me three times, and my father has first-hand confirmation of that. And, he'd already lost my sister, his daughter… My heart breaks for him. "I'm still here, Dad."

Dad sends me a shaky smile. "I know. When they brought you back, I nearly broke down in relief." He turns away and that faraway look returns. "The words are muddled in my memories, but I remember them saying about how they needed to find parts that worked and they should try this animal and that animal." He shudders. "They had things in jars. I couldn't tell exactly what they were from my vantage point, but based on what I heard, they must have been-been organs and…other internal things. I saw someone come out of another room with something larger… I couldn't watch anymore. I had to move before I blew my cover."

My pulse quickens with every word. "What did you do?"

"I didn't know what to make of it all. After I finally got confirmation that you would make it, I ran into the recovery room so I could hold you."

"I don't remember that," I say sheepishly.

Dad chuckles. "Of course you don't. You were so high on anesthesia, you spontaneously started reciting your ABCs! When I got home, Frieda was there, telling your mother about your emergency surgery. I snapped and blurted out everything I saw and heard to the two of them."

"So, Mom knows about this?"

Dad nods. "She knows. She, Frieda, and I had a long talk about it. I brought them to your room. We didn't know what to expect, but by that point, you were lucid again."

I hum and tilt my head as I recall that visit. "That, I remember. I wondered why you three looked so traumatized, but I chalked it up to the scare with my health."

"It was that," Dad says. "But, it wasn't just that."

"So, it's true? They really use…other animals to make us into…what we are?"

Dad scratches his neck with a pained look. "Sure seemed that way at the time. Those documents you found confirm the theory that you're not the only one."

Dear God… "It was just a theory? You never found out more?"

"I wanted to," Dad confesses, meeting my gaze with raw emotion, "but I knew digging into something the humans obviously don't want us knowing was risky business. And, I had you and your mother to think about."

"So, you just…let it go? You saw them putting random animal parts in me, and you-"

"I saw them save your life. Perry," now he has both hands curled around one of mine, "the O.W.C.A. was created by good, kind humans who wanted to make the world safer."

I recall that conversation between Janine and Alex, and bitterness leaks into my tone. "By making animals do the dirty work."

Dad's bill clenches, but he concedes. "They started out using humans. At some point, they integrated animals-"

"Because we're expendable." I rip my hand out of his grasp. "Because we don't have our names put in government systems when we're born. Maybe some humans notice if an animal dies, but the general public doesn't care." Dad only gawks at me, I look at my lap in embarrassment. "Sorry. I-I don't know where that came from."

Heinz was right. Hearing that conversation did bother me, even more so now that all of this has had time to sink in.

Where do the scientists get those parts? Do I want to know?

No. I don't want to know.

I need to know.

Dad rests his hand on my shoulder, making me lock eyes with him once more. "I'm not going to tell you what to do with this information," he says sternly. "I never told you before because I didn't want you snooping around getting hurt. But, clearly that ship has sailed. Can you at least promise me that you'll be careful?"

The love in his eyes makes me hesitate, but I have to be honest. "I don't make promises unless I'm confident that I can keep them, Dad. I'm not confident in this."

Dad smiles resignedly and pulls me into an embrace. "You have so much of your mother in you."

I grin and return the gesture. "That's funny. Mom's always saying that she sees you every time she looks at me."

Dad chuckles and pulls back. He keeps his hands on my arms and places a kiss on my forehead. "You're the perfect blend of us both."

My throat tightens. "I take that as a compliment."

Beep beep beep!

Dad scowls down at his wrist-com, muttering, "We're trying to have a moment, Monogram."

He answers the call anyway, and our superior's baritone completely shatters the mood. "Agent B, kiss your wife and son goodbye, because you're going to Guatemala!"

What.

Dad shares a brief glance with me before returning his attention to Monogram's words. "We've got a dire situation on our hands that we need your help with. Don't worry. You won't be alone. We'll be sending Agent F along with you."

Carl's voice comes through. "To be clear, he's talking about Frieda the Flamingo. Not Felix the Ferret or Francine the Falcon or Phoebe the Pheasant- Oh, wait. She's Agent PH."

"Get out of the shot, Carl!"

"I just think we need a better naming system for these agents."

Carl must get out of the shot, because Monogram says nothing more on the subject. "Agent B, make whatever preparations you need to then go straight to headquarters. Once you and Agent F-"

"Frieda the Flamingo," Carl clarifies.

"-have been briefed on your mission, we'll be sending you straight away. Monogram out!"

Dad dutifully salutes then hangs up and says to me, "Well, that was poorly timed."

"Sounds like you guys'll be gone for a while." And, at a time like this, I add silently.

Dad and I stand up, and he says faux-optimistically, "Not necessarily. Remember last spring when you went to Florida to stop those human traffickers? You were only gone for two days."

"Yeah, but I didn't have to leave the country for that!"

Dad shrugs. "Nothing to do now except my duty." He kisses my forehead again and wraps me in his arms again. "I love you, son."

I hold him tight. "I love you, too."

We always hug and say "I love you" before one of us has to leave for something major, because we never know if we'll come back. I'm sure I'll be getting an "I love you" call from Frieda soon.

Dad collects his jetpack and sends me one last salute before flying to the zoo to say goodbye to Mom, leaving me standing here wondering what comes next.

After breaking out of my stupor and thanking Stacy for letting us use her house, I fly to the zoo. I stop to take Frieda's call and tell her I love her, then I finish my route to the platypus habitat.

I land in the back of the enclosure and stow my jetpack and fedora in a bush before creeping out in the guise of an ordinary platypus. I hear splashing and jog to the artificial river, where my mother crawls out of the water and shakes out her pelt.

She sees me - "Oh, Perry!" - and quickly climbs up the short hill of rocks to weave around me, nuzzling her bill into my neck. At long last, I can let myself relax, if only for a short time. Mom's natural sweetness and gentleness always put me at ease.

"Good to see you, Mom," I chitter. "I've had a long day."

"I fell in the water," she says.

A real smile pulls at my bill. "Happens to the best of us."

Mom looks up at the sky in an uncharacteristically serious way. "Your father left for an important mission."

My mood takes a nosedive. "I know. Frieda went with him."

Mom cranes her neck to look even higher. "I was watching them fly away, and- Whoa!"

She cranes her neck so much that she ends up rolling right back into the water. She splashes around before righting herself. Once more, she swims to shore, shakes out her pelt, and joins me at the top of the small hill.

"I fell in the water," she tells me.

"These things happen," I assure.

Mom nudges me with her bill. "Let's go over there. The grass is really soft."

She leads me to a shady spot under a tree, and we lay on our bellies, our flanks pressed together as we watch the zoo patrons go about their visits.

"You think Dad and Frieda will be alright?" I ask.

Mom shifts a little, betraying her nerves. "Of course!"

I smile even though I know how she really feels. "You aren't worried?"

"Oh, I'm always worried. Every time your father goes off to fight Prof. Applebottom, I'm worried. Frieda doesn't leave as often as he does, but I worry about her, too." She nuzzles me again. "I worry about you the most, though. You're out there fighting Dr. Dollyshirts all the time, and I don't get to see you every day like I do your father and Frieda. And, then there's your host family. I don't know them, but I know how important they are to you, so I worry about them, too. And, even though Dr. Doofenshmit is your nemesis-"

"Wow, you almost had it that time."

"-I know you care about him, so I worry about him. And, your friend, Pinky, too. I like him. And, your father has agent friends that I like. And, there are some zoo animals that I get along with as well. I don't think I'm ever not worrying!"

I did not expect this visit to get so deep. "That's an awful lot of worry for one platypus."

Mom reaches with her back foot to scratch her neck. "I don't mind. Worrying all the time just means that I have a lot of wonderful people in my life to worry about! And, that's a good thing!"

Warmth blooms in my chest. "That's a nice way to look at it." And, it opens the door to the conversation I came here to have. "Mom, did you worry about me when I had…venom displacement?"

Mom's special brand of childlike wonder fades at that. "Of course. When your father told me and Frieda what happened, I was terrified! And, so was Frieda! She's your godmother, you know."

I manage a brief smile. "I know. The thing is…Dad told me what really happened that day. That it wasn't venom displacement and… He told me about the animal parts," I finally blurt out.

Mom's wall-eyed blue gaze suddenly hones in on me, a focus so intense and agent-like that it gives me whiplash. "Oh," is all she says.

I look away and fiddle with a pebble sitting in front of me. "I-I don't know what to think. I don't want to think bad of OWCA, but I don't know where those parts came from. If they were all manmade, that would be one thing, but-but it sounds like they came from actual animals." I hear my voice break and give myself a moment. "It scares me. Am I… Am I even a platypus, Mom?"

I feel like puggle, latching on to my mother for comfort in a big, scary world I don't understand. But, I really don't understand this world. Not anymore.

What creature has been living with the Flynn-Fletchers for the past six years? What has Phineas been dancing with when his favorite songs play on the radio? What has Ferb been sharing his deepest thoughts with? What has Candace been sneaking scritches to when no one's looking? What has Linda been practicing puns on? What's been laying on Lawrence's lap while does the morning crossword?

Should Heinz be cursing Perry the Platypus after a round of thwarting?

Mom lifts her head and rests it on top of my neck. "You're a platypus. You're just a very unique platypus. My understanding is that OWCA does that weird stuff so they can give dying animals a new life, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "But, why use...parts from other animals? Why make us anthropomorphic? Why train us to be agents?" Why do they think we're expendable? "I never questioned it before."

"I don't understand all of this agent stuff," Mom chitters, "but I do know that OWCA saved your father when he narrowly escaped being eaten by that whale-song-singing double-breasted angle hooper. And, I know they saved you from dying from being born with weird genetics. OWCA kept my two favorite people in my life, so the details don't matter to me."

I want to cry, but I reign it in. "They matter to me," I confess. "Honestly, Mom, sometimes I wish I was a normal platypus like you. Your life and your worldview seem so…simple!"

Mom drapes herself further on top of me, making herself comfortable. It should make me the opposite, but the added weight is soothing. "I don't think you would be happy as a normal platypus. Sitting around in the zoo works for me, but even before your anthropomorphism started to show, I could tell you would be adventurous like your father. Before you even opened your eyes, you were always wandering around and trying to climb on stuff! We were at the point where your dad installed an invisible barrier so you wouldn't fall in the water before you were old enough to swim!"

"That's why that barrier was there," I realize. "My earliest memories are about trying to find a break in it. It was like my Enrichment Box! I was disappointed when Dad took it down, because I wanted to find my own way through it!"

"Exactly!" Mom rolls off of me, crouching down in front of me with her butt in the air. Her eyes are still unnaturally focused, but it doesn't seem so unnerving now. "Even if you hadn't inherited your father's enhanced genetics, there's no way you would have been happy cooped up in this enclosure all day. You would have found your own adventures, and I'd still be worrying about you. But, that's okay because as long as you and your father and everyone else are happy in your crazy lives, then I'm happy to worry about you all the time!"

Tears prick my eyes but in a good way this time. I rise to all-fours and nuzzle my bill against hers. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Perry," she says. "Just remember that no matter how scary the world gets, you'll always be safe in this enclosure. Unless the keepers are cleaning it. They use big machines that make loud noises. Particularly when they change the water." Mom walks over to the edge of the hill. I follow as she continues her explanation. "I don't see why they have to change it. Your father says it's to ensure that we always have clean water, but it never seems that dirty to me- Whoa!"

Mom had leaned out too much and now tumbles into the water with a loud splash. She swims toward the shore but doesn't crawl out. She instead rests on the shallow edge and lets the water churn around her. Her eyes are back to their unusual unfocused state as she looks up at me.

"I fell in the water," she chitters.

My world is full of darkness, and I have a hunch that it's only going to get worse from here. Moments like this remind me that my world is also speckled with bright patches that I need to savor.

So, I say, "When in Rome," before allowing myself to tumble down the hill and into the river.

Chapter Text

Perry

It's been four days.

Dad and Frieda are still in Guatemala as far as I know.

According to Pinky, Prof. Poofenplotz decided that this would be an excellent time to kidnap a bunch of male models in hopes that one of them would be desperate enough to be her husband. (Pinky's words, not hers.) That combined with keeping his family from wondering where he is has kept him away from all things tech-related.

As for me, Heinz hasn't had any schemes to keep my mind off of everything. I texted him that I formed a small team of trustworthy agents and that two of them were sent on an international mission at the worst possible time while the other was preoccupied with his own duties. Heinz's response was a very long text that was entirely in Drusselstinian, went over the character limit, prompting him to start a second long-winded text, and that for all of your sakes, I will not be translating.

Put simply, no progress has been made and I'm getting antsy.

So, I am not pleased that my fellow agents keep sneaking weird looks at me when all I want to do is turn in some paperwork.

I walk down the halls of HQ and past some cubicles, and agents keep asking me how I'm doing and if I'm okay. I keep saying that I'm fine, and I'm getting less and less patient. I guess nobody sees the way I'm crinkling the reports in my hands or that my "resting bitch face," as Vanessa calls it, is getting increasingly less "resting."

It comes to a head when Peter the Panda approaches me. The agent himself isn't the problem. He stole Heinz from me last summer, and that hurt more than I ever would have anticipated, but the past has passed. Heinz and I are together again, and Peter and I had a long talk about the incident after Heinz was abducted by aliens in Seattle (long story). Bottom line, while Peter and I aren't friends, we are friendly.

No, the issue is the card he hands me and the sheepish words out of his mouth. "Look, I'm not good at this stuff, but…here."

Curiosity wins out over my aggravation (which again, was not caused by the agent himself). I accept the card and scan the front. It's kitschy as hell, sporting a cartoon heart with big sad eyes that's holding up a sign that reads, My condolences.

I don't open the card. I'm too annoyed.

"Thank you for your condolences," I deadpan. "Why am I receiving your condolences?"

Peter blinks a few times then opens his mouth. He closes it. Opens. Closes. I feel several pairs of eyes on us as the agents in the cubicles around us stop what they're doing. You could hear a pin drop. I look around. Every time I make eye contact with someone, they pretend to return to their work.

I can't take it anymore, so I ask no one in particular, "Okay, what does everyone seem to know about but me?"

Peter grabs me by the wrist and pulls me forward, causing me to drop the card. "Let's talk in private."

When we reach a certain door, I dig in my heels, forcing him to stop. "I'm not going in there."

Peter's teeth are gritted when he looks at me over his shoulder. "This really isn't something you're gonna wanna hear in front of people."

"Then, can you tell me somewhere other than the ladies' room?"

Peter looks up at the sign on the door that clearly says Women in large bold letters. "Uh, yeah," he growls in embarrassment, "good call."

He leads me into the men's room and finally releases me. It's just the two of us in here, and I have a feeling I'm going to wish I was the only one very soon.

"What's all this about, Peter?" I ask. "Why is everyone suddenly acting like I'm made of porcelain?"

Peter taps his fat fingers together and sucks in air between his teeth. "Have you checked your email recently?"

I position my reports under my arm and pull out my phone. "I checked it this morning." I check it again but can only shrug at what I find. "Unless the email you're talking about is a coupon for ten percent off my next haircut-"

"Check your spam folder," Peter says quickly. "Some of us have been having problems lately with important stuff ending up in there."

"I have heard that." I do as I'm told but, "Nothing new in there either." I put my phone away and muse, "That's odd. If this email is so important and apparently pertains to me in some way, why didn't I get it?"

Peter makes an anxious sound and scratches his cheek. "Oh, boy. I'm the one who has to tell you this."

All five of my senses are on overdrive. "Rip the band-aid, Peter. Whatever it is, I can take it."

The higher-ups couldn't have found out that I read and shared those files, could they?

But, Peter's next words relieve me of that fear. "Perry, you know how your dad went on that mission in Guatemala?"

"Yeah. Him and Frieda that Fla…mingo…"

Everyone's been asking me if I'm okay. Peter gave me a card offering condolences.

Has the air always been this thick and humid?

Peter whips out his phone and taps the screen a few times. "I think it's best if you read this for yourself."

I snatch the phone out of his paws and stare at the screen until I can remember how to read.

To the agents of the Organization Without a Cool Acronym,

We regret to inform you that while on a mission in Guatemala - the details of which are classified until said mission is complete - Agent B (Brutus the Platypus) was killed. According to the report from Agent F (Frieda the Flamingo), who had accompanied Agent B on the mission, they had been freeing a captive when they were ambushed by a swarm of enemies. Agent B pushed Agent F out of the way and took multiple bullets-

Papers and a phone fall to the floor. Dots coat my vision.

A black and white shape, not much bigger than me, bends over to pick up the phone I think I dropped. The shape has a voice. "I don't know if you actually got to this part, but Major Monogram instructed everyone not to tell you because he wanted to do it himself."

Can't move. Can't think. Where am I?

The voice keeps talking, faster now. "I-I don't understand how he hasn't told you yet! This email was sent out this morning, and it's half past two o'clock in the afternoon! Perry? Perry, are you with me?"

The men's room is starting to come into focus. "My father is dead."

There's a pause then a hesitant, "Y-yeah."

"My father is dead. They announced it with an email."

"Sounds pretty tasteless when you put it that way, but yes."

"An email that I, his son, did not receive."

"To be fair, Major Monogram wrote that he wanted to tell you in person. But, I still can't believe he hasn't told you yet-"

I shake my head clear. "Maybe it's a mistake. Major Monogram wouldn't just forget something that important." I feel myself start to pace, too restless to stand there any longer. "Sure, Dad's probably injured pretty badly, but if he was…gone, I would have been informed, right? Yeah. Totally."

Peter's concerned yet analytical tone breaks through my rambling. "Okay, we've gotten through shock. Now we're in denial."

I stop pacing and glare at him. "Are you suggesting that I'm going through the five stages of grief? 'Cause I'm not. Right? Tell me I'm right, Peter! I'll give you whatever you want! Just tell me I'm right!"

"Now we've entered bargaining."

I shove him in the chest, sending him stumbling to one of the sinks that's suitable for animals our size. "You've entered bargaining!"

He is unphased, which irritates me even more. "Now we're at anger. Man, you are blowing through these!"

I'm tempted to hit him again, but it won't get me anywhere. I pick up the paperwork I dropped during the first stage. "Where is Major Monogram?" I ask calmly even though my blood is boiling through my veins.

Peter nods toward the door. "I think he's in his office. But, Perry, maybe you should take a few deep breaths before-"

I let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, 'cause deep breathing in a public restroom is gonna make me feel better!"

He tries to stand in my way, so I push past him and slam the door open. As I make my way to Monogram's office, I hear Alice the Alligator saying, "Five stages of grief?"

Peter replies, "Yes, and he's stuck on anger."

I want to turn around and scream at them, but I have more self-control than that. Regardless, my co-workers have realized that I know about my father and have the good sense to stay out of my way.

Once I reach Major Monogram's office, I bang on the door so hard that I'm pretty sure it bruises my hand. I let the pain add fuel to the fire.

"Come in," Monogram calls, "but go easy on the door next time!"

Within the next sixty seconds, he's going to discover that I was picturing his face in the exact spot where my fist collided with the wood.

Monogram is standing in front of his desk with Carl at his side. Later, I'll feel bad that our intern had to bear witness to my wrath, but right now I don't care.

"Agent P?" Carl exclaims. "I'm surprised to see you in the office today!"

Because everyone knew but me.

I gauge Monogram's reaction. Apprehension is the main emotion I see from him. "What's with the squinty-glare?" he asks me.

Midway to my destination, I'd stopped to write a quick note and placed it on top of the reports that I now hand to my "superior." Monogram takes the papers with a curious frown then reads my note and goes white as his hair.

Why did Peter the Panda have to tell me about my father?

Seeing his boss's paralysis, Carl takes a peek at the note and gasps before whirling on Monogram. "You said you were going to tell him!"

"I-I, uh…" Monogram stammers, flicking his panicked gaze between Carl and me. "Well… Th-there's a lot of paperwork to file when an agent dies! And, several evildoers were…evil-doing! I've had a full day, and-"

Carl gets in Monogram's face, impressive for the size difference between them. "And, what? You forgot?"

"I didn't forget!" Monogram argues. "I just…"

He just has nothing to say, apparently.

Major Monogram has a silly streak that leads to countless moments of unprofessionalism, but he is a good man and a strong leader who holds infinite respect for his agents. That's what I always thought, so the idea that he would be so callous as to forget to tell me, one of his best agents, that my father, another of his best agents, had been killed in the field…

I feel something deep inside of me shatter, and I have to walk away before I do something I can't undo.

"Did you at least inform Agent P's mother?" Carl demands.

I stop with my hand one of the door knobs I can reach and listen for the answer, praying that Monogram will say he sent someone to-

"How do you propose I do that?" Monogram asks. "She can't read and she doesn't speak English. She's just a dumb animal!"

I whirl around and - self-control be damned - I unleash the loudest hiss I am capable of.

Monogram flinches with his hands held up defensively, while Carl slowly backs away. "Did I say 'dumb?'" Monogram says carefully. "I…I meant 'smart!' It's dumb how smart she is!"

You got that right, Francis.

I go straight to the Danville Zoo after that and find Mom lying on her back and sunning her light teal belly on a rock. There is no way I can keep my cover right now, so I hide behind some shrubbery and whisper-shout, "Mom! Mom, over here!"

Mom rolls over and looks around. "Perry, is that you?"

"Back here, Mom! Turn around!"

Mom spins in a complete circle. "I still don't see you."

"Turn halfway around!"

She does so. "Oh, there you are, Perry."

I wave toward me, and she runs into the cover of the shrubbery. My insides cave in when it dawns on me how clueless she is.

Not dumb. Never dumb. But, at the moment, absolutely clueless.

No one told her about Dad. She wouldn't be acting this casually if they had.

I drop down to all-fours and get ready to have the hardest conversation of my life. "I need to talk to you."

Mom's eyes focus in the same way they did when I confronted her about the animal parts. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

Everything comes rushing over me. I can't stop myself from trembling. "You know how Dad and Frieda went on that mission?"

Mom takes a step closer. "Did something happen?"

"Frieda's fine, but Dad… Dad's not coming back."

Mom is frozen with an uncomprehending stare. Her fluffed up fur is the only sign that she heard what I said. Stage One: Shock.

"Mom?"

She breaks from her stupor. "Is…is he going to be gone longer than expected?" Stage Two: Denial. I take her hand, but she pulls away and takes a few steps back, looking anywhere but at me. "Maybe…maybe we can help! I-if we go to Guava-melon-"

"Guatemala."

"Yeah, that place! If we go there, maybe we can find him!" Stage Three: Bargaining.

My eyes water as I struggle to keep it together. "That's not possible, Mom. Dad's…Dad's dead."

Mom rapidly shakes her head and puffs out jagged breaths. "He's… Stop saying that!" Stage Four: Anger. "Perry Flynn-Fletcher, I am your mother and-and…and you're being really mean to me!"

Her words would hurt if I didn't know where they were coming from. "I know, Mom. There's just no nice way to say it."

Mom gapes at me before her legs give out and she collapses on to her side and stares into space. I curl into a ball against her stomach the way I did when I was a child. I'm bigger than her now, but she still tries to curl herself around me.

The final stage is Acceptance. I don't think either of us is going to reach it any time soon.

I don't want to leave my mother's side, but there's something I need to do that must be done in person. I promise Mom that I'll be back soon and fly off in Ramona.

On the way, I run into Pinky, who is using his jetpack to fly. He calls to me from yards away and asks me to land. I'm reluctant to make an extra stop, but I figure he's going to want to hear how my mother and I are doing. I'll have to make it quick.

The moment we land on a flat rooftop, Pinky throws off his jetpack and sprints over to me. His large eyes are wild, and he's shaking nonstop. "I'm glad I ran into you! I was gonna tell you sooner, but Poofenplotz discovered the 'beauty benefits' of charcoal and stole all the charcoal from- It's not important. But, you're not gonna believe-"

"I know," I say, stepping out of the driver's seat. "I already know about it, Pinky."

He scans me up and down and sobers instantly. "That explains why you look and sound like shit. How did you find out?"

"Peter told me." I huff a disbelieving laugh and toss my hands at my sides. "Peter the Panda. Of all people." I let out another laugh, this one a little more choked. "Insult to injury, am I right?"

Pinky opens his mouth, but nothing comes out at first. "How does Peter know about this?"

I analyze my friend for a second. "Are we talking about the same thing?"

"I don't think we are. What are you talking about?"

This would be so much easier if we had already been talking about the same thing. "Did you check your email this morning?"

Pinky hums thoughtfully and pulls out his phone. "No. I spent the whole night digging through fire walls and conked out 'til noon. Then I had to fight Poofenplotz." He frowns at the screen. "I got a coupon for my favorite brand of jerky, but that's it."

"Check your spam folder."

Pinky taps the screen and mutters, "How'd that get there?" before he starts reading. He gasps and throws his paw over his mouth. He sniffs and swipes his arm over his eyes then finishes reading with a pinched expression. "Oh, Perry… This-this can't be real!"

"Would you mind skipping over Bargaining and Anger?" I ask. "I don't have time for them. I need to take care of something real quick and then I need to get back to my mom."

Pinky accepts my request. "How is she?"

"Catatonic," my voice cracks on the word.

Pinky idly scans over the email again. "Poor Junie. Wait." He looks at me and points to the screen. "This says Major Monogram was gonna tell you, but you said Peter the Panda did."

I throw my arms out at my sides and let myself sink back into Anger, if only so I don't go to pieces. "Because Monogram forgot! He spewed some bullshit about how he had all this other stuff on his mind to justify it!"

"He…he forgot?" Pinky is quivering with rage now. "How do you forget something like that?"

"Because he doesn't care!" I stomp my foot for emphasis, my fists balled at my sides. "None of the humans at OWCA do. Except Carl, but he's just there for college credit! The humans who get paid to be there, who work deeply with us? They don't care! We're all just cannon fodder to them!"

Pinky stands there, clutching his phone tightly in paws, staring at the roof below, and shifting from foot to foot.

I toss my hand toward him. "This is the part where you tell me I'm not thinking straight because I'm grieving."

"Uh, well," Pinky meets my eyes but keeps looking away, "the evidence is kind of damning."

Why did I think he would correct me? He's seen the files. He knows what they do to us, that they see us as experiments.

Pinky goes completely still and gains a faraway look, prompting me to say, "Pinky? You there, pal?"

He shakes his head clear. "Sorry. I, uh… It's a lot."

"It is," I agree, rubbing my arms because the muggy summer air suddenly got really cold.

"You said you had something to do," Pinky says. "I could go sit with your mom until you get back."

My breathing hitches. Push it down, Perry. "That's kind of you, Pinky, but are you forgetting that she lives in the platypus habitat? It's one thing if I'm there, but-"

Pinky shrugs. "I'm pretty small. And, I suspect your mom's gonna be hiding anyway." He rests his paw on my shoulder. "Do what you need to do. I'll keep her company."

Push. It. Down, Perry. "Gracias, mi amigo."

Heinz

Perry the Platypus: Are you home? If so, is that offer to let me vent still on the table? I just got a new backstory.

Me: Of course it's on the table! What do you take me for? 😠 You can let yourself in. I'll be waiting.

Perry the Platypus: Thank you. Word of warning, I'm going to be terrible company.

Me: Well, duh! You just got a new backstory! I'm not expecting sunshine and rainbows, PtP.

Perry the Platypus didn't text me back, but I could see that my last message to him had been read. I've been pacing by the front door since, waiting not-so-patiently for my nemesis to arrive.

Backstories come in all forms of trauma, from your father forcing you be a lawn gnome to losing your arm after getting it stuck under a boulder. There's no way of knowing what Perry the Platypus's new backstory will be about, not until he tells me. Er, writes me.

I wonder if it has something to do with those files he was investigating. He said he picked out three agents to help him, one of whom being an expert hacker. But, he also said that two of those agents had been sent on an international mission and the hacker was preoccupied with "things you aren't allowed to know about." They've gotten nowhere, and there's nothing I can do to help. I can re-wire Norm to collect data, but that's as far as hacking goes for me. Perry the Platypus assures me that simply showing him my findings was helpful enough, but I still wish there was more I could do.

I can't even focus on evil. I managed to get the bad-idea-inator finished, but I can't muster up the energy to enact the scheme itself. Nor, any other scheme. All I can think about is the contents of those files, that horrific little bit of video showcasing Perry's 'physicals' that I was able to get through.

What if that's the new backstory? What if they started digging around in Perry again, but this time without anesthesia? If they're willing to surgically implant animal parts into animals who shouldn't have those parts, what else are they capable of?

There's a little click as the door is unlocked. Perry the Platypus creeps in with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed like he thinks he shouldn't be here. He doesn't appear injured- Well, he has a new backstory, so he's definitely injured but only in the emotional sense.

I hope.

"Hey, Perry the Platypus," I greet. "How are you holding up? No. Don't answer. That was a stupid question. You have a new backstory, so obviously you aren't doing that great. Let's sit down."

I move to usher him to my couch, but he holds up his hands and shakes his head then points at the door.

"You can't stay long? I know you're new to this whole 'opening up' thing - you're-you're a very closed off person - but sharing a backstory can take a while, so we may as well make ourselves comfortable. Plus, I left a notebook on the coffee table for you. I know you have your own, but yours is platypus-sized and-and that's good for quick notes but it can be a little hard for me to read."

Perry the Platypus concedes and follows me to the couch. We take our seats, and I hand him the notebook and pen. The notebook is one of those travel-sized ones, still small but bigger than the one Perry the Platypus uses. I couldn't find a pen that suited his size, but he shows no difficulty in using the one I gave him.

As tempting as it is to watch him write, I turn my gaze elsewhere. I would never force someone to share their backstory, and I certainly won't read Perry the Platypus's until he gives me the okay.

No matter how many sniffles or sad little chirps I hear. What happened to you, Perry?

After an eternity, Perry the Platypus sets the notebook on my lap with the pen hooked into the spiraling wire spine. "Oh," I say. "Are-are you ready for me, Perry the Platypus?"

His eyes are a little red, and he takes a shaky breath before nodding his head. There is no trace of the unflappable secret agent I know and love. Perry the Platypus has been flapped, and he just granted me permission to learn how.

The first sentence is all it takes for me to understand: My father is dead.

The words sink in like stones. Brutus the Platypus is…is dead? I just saw him a few days ago! He got caught in one of my traps! We had lunch together! We talked- Well, I talked and he made hand gestures and platypus noises, but it counts!

How can he be dead? What happened? Was there an accident? Was he sick? He seemed healthy when he came over to thwart me. Was it simply natural causes? I don't know how old Brutus the Platypus is-

Was. How old he was.

I press my lips together as my eyes fill with tears that I quickly wipe away. I can't cry yet. Perry the Platypus needs me to read his backstory, to understand his pain. I trail my fingers down his back, and he leans into the touch while I continue reading.

I don't know the details, but I do know that he was shot multiple times while on a mission. He died protecting a fellow agent, who also happened to be his best friend. His friend is also my godmother, and I'm close to her as well, so I'm sure she'll tell me the whole story once she gets back.

At this point, the ink on the paper is a little thicker, like Perry the Platypus was pressing down harder.

Do you know how the higher-ups announced Dad's passing? With an email. An email, Heinz! And, who was the one person who didn't receive it? Me! I didn't get the email!

"An email?" I snap. "Who does that? Who announces that with an email? Why don't you just write it on a sticky note while you're at it? And, why didn't you get it?"

Perry the Platypus makes an angry noise that I know isn't directed at me and points to the notebook. I keep reading.

Supposedly, the email instructed everyone not to tell me because Major Monogram wanted to tell me face-to-face. Okay. Fine. Except that he didn't tell me! There I was, strolling through HQ, listening to people asking if I was okay, not having a goddamn clue! Then Peter the Panda-

I wince.

-comes along and figures it out and shows me the email! If you're wondering why Monogram didn't tell me, it's because he forgot!

"He what?!" I shoot to my feet. "That dummkopf forgot to tell you? I always knew he was a jerk, but this? This takes the cake, Perry the Platypus, and-and it eats it, too!"

Perry the Platypus motions for me to sit back down. Heat rages under my skin, but I do as instructed.

When I confronted him, he babbled out some excuse about having a lot of work to do, but I call bullshit! When asked whether or not my mother had been informed, he claimed that he didn't have a way to do so since she's a normal platypus and can't read or understand human languages. He called her a dumb animal! You should have heard the way I hissed at him. I even startled myself!

"I would have done a heck of a lot more than hiss," I say as calmly as I can when my rage is building, "but that's just me."

I know you can't stand him, but I always respected Monogram as a leader and as a person. Now I don't know what to think. And, with my new knowledge of how agents are made, I'm starting to believe that you were right about the humans at OWCA not caring about us. The only clear exception in my mind is Carl, the intern in my division. He and I aren't close, but we've always gotten along and he was furious when he found out that Monogram didn't tell me about Dad. But, Monogram and the scientists who create us and Lord knows who else? I don't know what to do, Heinz.

I blow out a long breath and try to make sense of all of this. "That's…that's quite a backstory, Perry the Platypus. Is, uh, is your mom doing alright? I assume you told her, since Francis apparently couldn't be bothered to send someone who could talk to her. How is she?"

Perry the Platypus deepens his frown and wiggles his hand horizontally.

"As well as can be expected, huh?"

He holds out his hands, and I give him the notebook. He writes something else before handing it back.

I don't know when Dad's funeral will be yet, but you can come if you want.

My heart breaks further. I only met Brutus the Platypus one time, but he left an impact. I would love to pay my respects, but… "Would that be okay? Me? Attending an OWCA agent's funeral? Is that even allowed?"

Perry the Platypus narrows his eyes in that determined way and places his fist on his chest as though telling me that he'll make it allowed.

"Alright," I say. "I'll-I'll be there. Just send me the details when you have them."

Perry the Platypus nods with a wobbly smile and pats my leg in thanks before hopping off the couch.

"Oh, you're leaving," I comment as he rushes for the door. He stops with his hand almost on the knob. "I-I just wasn't expecting it. I should have, though. You probably have a lot to take care of, so don't let me stop you. I'll, uh, see you at the funeral, I guess."

He gives me one last nod before walking out the door.

Left alone, I lay back on the couch with a heavy sigh. Brutus the Platypus is gone. I barely knew him, but I really liked him. He seemed like a nice guy, and I didn't have to see him in action to know what a good father he was. A good husband as well, I'm sure.

Now he's gone, killed while protecting someone he cares about, and all OWCA does to acknowledge his sacrifice is send an email. To everyone but Brutus's son, who loves him so dearly.

I hug my knees to my chest and flashback to the day Vanessa was born, to the first time I held my little girl in my arms. How happy Brutus the Platypus must have been to see at least one of his children hatch despite all the evidence against the possibility.

My thoughts are interrupted by Norm stomping into the room with a dripping toilet plunger in his hand. He raises it proudly. "I finished unclogging the toilet, Dad! Boy, your toilet-clog-inator is really something!"

Seeing my son creation breaks me. I scrunch up with my forehead on my knees and weep for the man who showed me what a good father looks like. For the wife who lost her husband.

For the nemesis who will never see his father again.

"Dad?" Norm says, sobering now.

I cry harder and don't object when Norm walks up behind me and starts rubbing my back.

If I had a nickel for every time I attended a funeral comprised mainly of animals, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but I never thought it would happen a second time.

They let me in, though the stipulation was that I had to be blindfolded on the way here so that I wouldn't know where OWCA honors their fallen. As if I would desecrate a funeral home! I don't know a single person who's that evil!

The service is short but classy. It's a closed casket ceremony, implying that the damage to Brutus the Platypus's body was pretty bad. I sit in the back, between Pinky the Chihuahua and Frieda the Flamingo. I don't know if they're here to keep an eye on me or if we've lumped ourselves into a "Perry's friends" group. Since I now know that Perry the Platypus is so selective of whom he befriends, I have to wonder how many others in this room are a part of that group, if any. Potentially that intern he mentioned - the guy I referred to as "Dr. Coconut" before learning his name - though Perry the Platypus said they weren't close.

I wonder which agent is Brutus the Platypus's best friend and Perry the Platypus's godmother. That poor woman! Her best friend sacrificed himself to save her life! I can't begin to imagine what's going through her head.

I spot Francis sitting in a chair off to the side and scowl at him even though he isn't looking at me. The other stipulation - this one being implemented by Perry the Platypus - was that I don't make a scene in regards to Francis. I would love nothing more than to do just that, but I have to control myself for the sake of Perry and his mother, who it turns out is Junie the Platypus from the Danville Zoo.

Junie the Platypus…who has to work with that rude platypus during zoo hours. A rude platypus who has the same name as her recently deceased husband. Hoo boy! That is awkward. At least she - I assume - gets to go home to…to an empty house now. I never did find out where Perry the Platypus lives, but if he hasn't been living with his parents, I'm sure he'll still be staying with his mother for a while.

Speaking of, Perry and Junie are stationed up front, closest to the casket. Junie the Platypus was having trouble sitting in the tiny chair offered to her, so Perry the Platypus opted to sit on the floor with her like the ordinary monotreme his mother is. They sit shoulder to shoulder, and Junie the Platypus has her tail resting on her son's back.

I wonder if OWCA held a funeral for the baby girl the Platypus family never got to meet. They probably didn't care enough. All that genetic modification was supposed to have made it impossible for Brutus to breed with Junie, so I'm sure OWCA didn't care about something they saw coming.

Brutus and Junie probably had to hold their daughter's funeral on their own and maybe with some close animal friends. And, I thought throwing my own birthday party at the age of five was depressing.

When the service is over, everyone returns to the lobby. Pinky, Frieda, and I remain seated. We all seem to have collectively decided to wait for Perry and Junie before heading out.

I thought I'd run out of silent tears to shed, but the sight of Junie the Platypus trying to climb up the podium to her husband's tiny casket sends a few more rolling down my cheeks. Peter the Panda and a hamster agent I don't recognize come over to help, but Perry the Platypus shoos them away. He is able to coax his mother away from the casket and steers her toward the exit.

I rise from my seat and tug on my collar for the umpteenth time. I wore the dark gray dress shirt and crisp black slacks I save for formal occasions, and I had forgotten how tight this collar is. I need a new formal outfit.

Frieda the Flamingo stands up as well and keeps her head down after placing her light brown fedora on her bright pink head. She'd been quietly weeping on and off throughout the service. She and Brutus the Platypus must have been close.

Pinky the Chihuahua had spent the entire funeral in a trance. I give him a nudge, and he springs back to life - oof, bad choice of words - and puts his fedora back on before joining the only remaining Platypuses in the aisle. Frieda the Flamingo and I follow.

I hang back while the four animals converse in their various sounds that are so sad now. I gauge the Platypuses' current states. Perry the Platypus hasn't shed a tear as far as I can tell, but he looks exhausted, his posture slouched and his fur sticking up in places. Junie the Platypus just looks lost.

The four of them are so preoccupied with each other that they don't seem to hear the hushed conversation that's happening at the entrance to the room. But, I hear it and turn around.

"Just give it to him!" Francis begs, trying to shove a small cardboard box into Dr. Coconut's- I mean, Carl's hands.

Carl stares him down with his fists on his hips. "Why can't you give it to him? Are you that much of a coward?"

Francis narrows his eyes. "Don't get snippy with me, Carl. You know Agent P is mad at me."

"And, who could blame him?"

Francis has the decency to wince at the intern's harsh tone. "Okay, I deserved that. But, it only emphasizes that I shouldn't be the one to give it to him."

I promised that I wouldn't make a scene, but nothing says I can't confront Francis quietly.

I storm up to the duo, who stop bickering at my approach. I rip the box out of Francis's hands before he can recover enough to stop me "I can give this to Perry the Platypus. Whatever it is."

"It's…something his father wanted him to have," Francis says hesitantly.

This tiny box seemed so light until he said that. Now it's weighed down by its importance.

Carl speaks to Francis while gesturing to me. "Let him do the hand-off, sir. He might be the best guy for it."

Francis scoffs. "I know the two of them are close for some reason, but they're still enemies-"

"Frenemies," I correct. "But right now, I am exclusively his friend." I don't add that Perry the Platypus has done countless nice things for me and that I need to seize these rare opportunities to pay him back. I simply flick my fingers at Francis and say, "Now run along before I decide to build an inator inspired by you." Which I might do anyway.

Francis glares at me but turns around and walks away without another word. Carl gives me a sad smile and mouths, "Thank you," before following his boss.

I can see why Perry the Platypus likes that kid. He seems like a good egg.

Now for the box, the memento from Brutus the Platypus. I have a strong urge to peek inside, but I can't do that in good conscience. This is for Brutus's son's eyes only unless that son chooses to show me.

I walk up to the agents. Perry and Junie the Platypus look up at my approach. Pinky the Chihuahua and Frieda the Flamingo turn around to follow their gazes.

I swallow hard. "Perry the Platypus?" My best friend steps forward as I drop to my knees. "Um, someone who-who works here asked me to give this to you. I don't know what it is, but apparently your father left it to you."

Perry the Platypus snatches the box out of my hands. He doesn't open it at first, only stares at it until his mother nudges him with her bill and chitters at him. Frieda the Flamingo squawks in an encouraging way. Pinky the Chihuahua drapes his skinny arm around Perry the Platypus's shoulders. Perry the Platypus must not mind us seeing, because he doesn't ask for privacy. He lifts the lid off the box, and his composure is destroyed by the contents.

Pinky the Chihuahua lets out a startled bark but doesn't resist when Perry the Platypus latches on to him and sobs unashamedly, dropping the open box on the floor. Frieda the Flamingo falls to her knees with her beak wide open at the sight of what's inside. Junie the Platypus makes small pathetic noises and sticks her bill in the box to pull out the object and rest her head on top of it.

That object is a gray fedora, and the realization of where it came from makes my tears start anew.

Perry

After dropping off Heinz on his balcony - I didn't blindfold him this time because I think that stipulation is stupid - I start flying Mom home. She usually loves getting hovercar rides, but tonight she sits motionless in the passenger seat.

My father's fedora is a massive weight in Ramona's trunk. At least, that's how it feels to me. Like a sign that Dad is really, truly gone.

I grip the steering wheel tighter and ask Mom if she wants me to spend the night. She says no, citing that the rest of my family would wonder where I am. I offer to let her spend the night with me; worse case scenario, I'd sneak her in, though I suspect my boys would put up a tent and join us outside if their parents didn't let them bring a strange platypus into the house. Mom denies that too, tearfully proclaiming that she needs to get used to sleeping alone.

Damn it, Mom. Don't make me emotional at the wheel!

I stay with her in the enclosure for a very long time, until the moon is high in the sky and everyone back home has surely gone to bed. Even though I'm certain my boys are tossing and turning, wondering where I am, I don't feel right leaving my mother. It takes her shoving me out of the nest to get me to fly home.

I steer Ramona into an entrance location beneath a panel over an actual parking space and pilot her through the tubes until I reach her special spot in my lair. I leave Dad's fedora in the trunk for now because I'm not ready to touch it.

What a day, I lament as I climb out of a hole hidden under the grass just outside of the back gate.

…Why do I hear a guitar playing, and why is it coming from my backyard at this hour?

That…that melody…

"🎵Per-ry. You know you are a boy's best friend. You're more than just a passing trend. You're like a treat from a can-dy store.🎵"

Not Phineas singing that song. Not Ferb providing the instrumental. Not my boys being so worried about me that they stayed up late so they could try and lure me home with that song.

I don't need this. My heart doesn't need this.

I stow away my fedora, but I can't reveal myself yet. If I do, I'll blow my cover and create a whole new set of problems. I need to compose myself first, but it's so hard when they're performing that song.

I hate having a secret identity.

The music stops suddenly after "🎵We love you more than ice cream cake.🎵" Linda's voice calls out, "Phineas, Ferb, get down from there. What have I told you about performing musical numbers in trees?"

I remember that bust. It wasn't anything elaborate. They were just hanging up-side down from the branches while Phineas sang along to a Love Handel song on the radio, and Ferb had his guitar and was strumming along. It was a very minor bust, but Candace was walking on air for the rest of the day.

There's a rustling as the boys climb down. "Sorry, Mom," Phineas says. "We didn't have a microphone or amplifier handy, so we were trying a high vantage point."

"Well, at least you were right-side up this time," Linda replies. "Now, what in the world are you doing out here? It's almost midnight!"

Midnight? I check my wrist-com. 11:49. Have I really been gone that long? No wonder the boys are so worried!

"But, Mom, Perry isn't back yet!" Phineas argues. "Ferb thought we should try the song. It worked once before."

It was pure coincidence that I had returned home while they were playing that song for the first time. I would have shown myself sooner then, but I was fighting back tears and didn't trust myself to keep up the mindless act.

Linda's tone is soothing but in the manner of a parent faking it for their child. "I'm sure Perry's fine. He's disappeared for long periods of time before."

This does nothing to reassure my boys, as Phineas exclaims, "Yeah, but last time he got hit by a car!"

That had been a cover story to explain both my absence and why I was covered in what had actually been knife wounds.

I hate, hate, hate having a secret identity!

And, I can't stand to listen to this anymore. I jump and spin midair to flip the latch on the gate with my tail. Then I bolt into the backyard on all-fours, crying out, "I'm here! I'm here! Phineas! Ferb!"

"There he is!" Phineas shouts as he and Ferb sprint over to me.

I don't miss Linda's sigh of relief when the boys both pick me up and hug me at the same time, swaddling me in their pajama-clad arms. Don't break, Perry. Like the girl in that movie you watched with the boys when you were recovering from your last "physical," conceal, don't feel.

But, it isn't ice powers I'm holding back. It's…it's everything.

"See, boys?" Linda says. "Perry is just fine. Now off to bed."

She goes and picks up Ferb's guitar from the grass, and Phineas says to me. "We were really worried about you, Perry." The boys carry me to the back door and through the house, and Phineas goes on. "We thought something horrible happened to you! Guess you just lost track of time, huh? We've been there!"

"Time flies when you're having fun," Ferb comments. "Although, upon closer inspection, it seems that our beloved platypus wasn't having much fun at all."

Phineas hums curiously before taking me out of his brother's half of the grasp and holding me up so that we're eye to eye. "You're right, Ferb. His vacant stare seems really sad."

Stop being so observant, boys!

Phineas lowers his arms to hold me against his chest. "I guess something bad did happen to him. Too bad our old Perry translator didn't work on him, or we could ask what it was."

The translator worked fine. I just purposely spoke nonsense into it so they wouldn't ask any revealing questions.

Because even before those files imploded my world, back when I still had my unflinching belief in the O.W.C.A., I knew I would tell my boys everything.

Conceal. Don't feel.

We are standing just outside of their shared bedroom when Ferb bends over to speak to me. "I know you typically begin your night in our brother's bed and end it in mine, but would you like for us to sleep in the same bed with you tonight?" He scratches his index finger under my chin. "Perhaps our love for you will chase away those sorrows."

CONCEAL. DON'T FEEL.

"That's a great idea, Ferb!" Phineas praises. "What do you say, Perry?"

CONCEAL. DON'T… Don't…

If I speak, I'll cry. So, I wave my arms toward Ferb to show how much I desperately need what he's offering.

Ferb takes me in his arms, cradling me like an infant, and Phineas says, "I think he likes that idea, Ferb. They call him a mindless animal, but moments like this are proof that Perry is a lot more intelligent than everyone else thinks. But, we know." He gives my upper bill a gentle rub. "We may not know how intelligent you are, Perry, but there's definitely something there."

I wish I could tell Phineas how right he is.

Heinz

"Be careful with the bad-idea-inator, Norm," I warn. "It's fully operational."

Norm stops dusting the large red inator that's been perched on my balcony for days and turns around. "Are you going to use it for a scheme today?"

"Heck, no!" I admonish. "It's the morning after Brutus the Platypus's funeral! He's Perry the Platypus's father, and…and I liked him. And, he liked me, too."

And, I'll never see him again. The day Brutus the Platypus came over to thwart the scheme I didn't have was the one and only time I ever got to see him.

The only time I will ever get to see him.

I wonder how Junie the Platypus is doing, having to work with that rude platypus who shares her husband's name. I hope that Brutus has the basic decency to be kind to her in this troubling time.

And, Perry… Oh, Perry.

I grip my prosthetic arms and shake my head. "No. No schemes," I say through the lump in my throat. "Not for at least a few more days. You didn't see Perry the Platypus at the funeral, Norm. He needs time to process his grief. I don't even know if he's gotten through the five stages yet! I can't possibly make him thwart me right now!"

Norm walks up to me, feather duster in hand and a frown on his mechanical face. "Poor Perry the Platypus. I can't imagine what he must be going through. I know you don't see me as your son, sir, but I still see you as my father."

Something twinges inside of me.

Norm's frown flips into a smile. "But, that's alright. I've come to terms with you not harboring any fatherly affections toward me. I just want you to know that I would be devastated if I lost you, sir."

There's a slight hitch in the next breath I take.

Norm walks past me, unaware of my torrent of emotions. I blame my next actions on grief.

Or…maybe I can't.

"Norm?"

He turns around. "Yes, sir?"

I stick my hands in my lab coat pockets so he can't see them shaking. The fingers of my right hand press down on the little piece of paper I've been keeping with me since my nemesis gave it to me.

I know how strong you are, Heinz. You don't have to leave out the details with me. Perry's written words give me the strength to go through with the plan that's been on my mind since the funeral.

"I've been thinking," I say. "You've been…a good, you know…robot. You're… Y-you're kind of part of the family, and… Vanessa calls you her brother, and I, um…"

There's hope in Norm's voice. "What are you saying?"

I draw in a breath through my nose. "I'm saying if…if you want to…try out the whole father-son thing, we can. You can call me 'Dad,' and we can...do father-son things, like-like fishing and playing catch in the park. Just-just to give it a whirl. What's the worst that could happen?"

Norm wastes no time throwing himself forward and lifting me up in his huge arms. "This is the greatest day of my life! If I possessed the ability to produce tears, I would be weeping with joy!"

There's a warmth in my chest that I hadn't expected but should have.

It's quickly replaced by pain as Norm squeezes me tighter and tighter.

"Norm," I choke out. "Norm, let go!" I can barely maneuver my arms to push against him. "You're hurting me!"

"Oh! Sorry, Dad!"

He releases me while I'm shoving as hard as I can. My momentum sends me stumbling backwards and straight into my bad-idea-inator.

Good news: I can breathe again.

Bad news: My hand landed on one of the buttons. A pale green ray shoots across the cityscape.

"Whoops!" I say. I consider the direction the inator is currently pointing in and conclude, "It looks like someone out in the suburbs just had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea, and they now feel compelled to enact it."

But, I'm sure it won't affect me in any way.

Chapter Text

Perry

The thought has crossed my mind before. Many, many times. But, the desire has never been so strong, almost as if the "mysterious force" is compelling me to go through with it.

The burning ache to do this one thing hit me full force this morning, right as my boys and I were settling under the tree in the backyard. Now it's all I can think about.

But, I must resist. Anything less can only lead to heartache, and I've gotten enough of that in the past week alone to last a lifetime.

And yet, as I lay on my stomach under our tree with my boys sitting on either side of me, the need grows stronger with each passing second.

"What should we do today?" Phineas muses. "What do you think, Ferb?"

Ferb's arm moves up and down against me as he shrugs.

Phineas turns to me. "How about you, Perry?"

He's not expecting an answer he can understand, but I love that he asked and that I can feel Ferb's large blue eyes on me.

These two wonderful kids are some of the only humans who truly treat me like an equal, and they don't even know how similar to them I really am.

I know what I'd like to do today, but…

My boys are used to me responding when they speak to me directly, so my silence bothers them enough that Phineas says to his brother, "I guess he's still bummed about whatever happened yesterday."

He isn't wrong. My father's death is a gaping wound that will take a long time to heal. The only good thing about this sudden compulsion is that it means losing Dad is no longer at the forefront of my mind.

That reminds me. I wanted to check on Mom this morning.

The perfect opening comes in the form of Isabella stepping in through the gate and saying, "Hey, guys! Whatcha doin'?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Phineas replies. "Got any suggestions?"

"I've got a suggestion," Buford says as he enters the yard with Baljeet hoisted over his shoulder like a sack. "Four words: bread, bowl, hot, tub."

"I, too, have four words," Baljeet says. "Please. Put. Me. Down."

"Fine," Buford says, doing as "his nerd" requested, "but only because you said 'please.' I value your politeness."

The kids all congregate near the fence, and that's my chance to sneak away.

Out of habit, I put on my fedora after crawling into one of the bushes to slide down the hidden tube. I land in my lair and am about to climb into Ramona's driver's seat when my personal cellphone vibrates in hammerspace. It's Pinky calling, so I don't hesitate to answer.

"I need to talk to you!" he blurts out. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't bother you so soon after the funeral, but this thought just came to me while Isa was walking me this morning, and I can't stop thinking about it!"

"Easy, Pinky," I soothe. "I'm in my lair right now. Come on over."

Pinky whimpers. "Can we go somewhere without…cameras? I was thinking the old abandoned old abandoned amusement park."

"You just said 'old abandoned' twice."

"Focus, Perry! I'm shaking so bad, I could be my own earthquake!"

"Right. Sorry. Send me the coordinates. I'm on my way."

He thanks me in a hurry before hanging up and texting me the coordinates. Sorry, Mom, but this is an emergency.

I hop into Ramona and pilot her out of my lair and into the open skies. On my way, I make an executive decision to run my dangerous thoughts by Pinky, as it sounds like we both have ideas that are eating us alive.

The coordinates lead me to… Oh. It's an old abandoned amusement park…that's also called the Old Abandoned Amusement Park. That's why he said "old abandoned" twice.

Pinky got here before me; his bright pink hovercar with purple flowers painted on the exterior is parked next to a huge crumpled mass that must have been an attraction once. The chihuahua himself is pacing back and forth while wringing his fedora in his paws.

He stops and watches me as I park my hovercar next to his and step of the driver's seat. He meets me there.

"Your timing is impeccable as always, Pinky," I tell him. "I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea this morning, and I need someone to talk me out of it."

Pinky puts on his fedora with a curious look. "Coincidentally, I also had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea this morning, and I need someone to talk me out of it. But, you brought it up, so you go first."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "Your call sounded pretty urgent."

Pinky slumps over and lets out a long breath. "The drive here calmed me down a little. Plus, I wouldn't mind having something else to think about for a few minutes. So, lay it on me."

If he insists. I steel myself before saying, "I'm thinking about telling Phineas and Ferb everything."

Pinky's spine straightens in an instant. He even stops shaking. "Define 'everything.'"

I sigh and lean against Ramona. "The agency. My nemesis. The whole shebang."

"Wow," Pinky says after a moment. He scratches under his fedora. "Okay. I can't say that I'm surprised. I mean, who hasn't wanted to tell their host family everything? But, are you seriously considering doing it? You know what happens if your host family - if any members of your host family - find out that you're a secret agent, right?"

"I have to leave, and they have to forget they ever knew me. I know. But, my boys would keep the secret. If we're really careful…maybe it could work?"

Pinky gives me a sympathetic side-eye. "Perry, do you know how many agents over the years have been 'really careful' when doing exactly what you're thinking about doing?"

"That's why I need you to talk me out of it! I love the Flynn-Fletchers so much, and Phineas and Ferb and I… We have this...connection that I can't put into words! If I lost them…any of them…" Cracks are forming in the walls I've worked so hard to build up around my heart. I take a deep, steadying breath and brace my hands against Ramona's driver's side door, letting the feeling of her smooth metal exterior ground me. "Oh, Pinky. I feel like everything is just falling apart around me! First the truth about OWCA shoving random animal parts in us and what my bi-annual physicals are really about. Then, I lost my father…" I close my eyes and just breathe for a moment, holding the walls in place with willpower alone. When I've gotten myself under control, I open my eyes and meet Pinky's kind yet analytical gaze. "And, it feels like OWCA doesn't care. I'm not just talking about Major Monogram not telling me about Dad. Did you watch the video with the scientists talking about me?"

Pinky hesitates before nodding.

"I want to believe that those two are outliers, but Monogram being so…flippant about my feelings… I'm starting to wonder how many others are like that, just seeing us as…as…science projects. It makes me appreciate the humans who see me as a person even more. Heinz, Vanessa, and Norm for obvious reasons."

"Isn't Norm a robot?"

"Not the point. And, Carl's always been kind and friendly with us, and you should have seen the way he went off on Monogram about not telling me about Dad. And, Phineas and Ferb… I love Candace and Lawrence and Linda, but to them I'm just the mindless family pet who doesn't do much. And, that's fine. That's what's expected. But, Phineas and Ferb don't talk at me; they talk to me. Since the day I was adopted, those two have treated me like an equal. They talk to me like I can understand them, even if they don't know for certain that I can! And, lately…" I recall last night, falling asleep while sandwiched between my boys on Phineas's bed, each of them with one arm draped over me, and tears blur my vision. Figures, talking about my boys would be my undoing. "Lately, I just can't stand to lie to them anymore."

Pinky has his arms crossed, and he drums his fingers on one of them and looks away in thought. This gives me time to pull myself together. I'm not usually a rambler, but I can see why Heinz does it. There's a certain catharsis in monologuing to someone you trust.

At last, Pinky speaks. "I hear you. It sucks, having to lie to the people you love. I feel that with Isabella and Vivian all the time. But, Perry, those rules are there for a reason. We lie so that our families will stay out of the crossfire. It's for their safety."

"Is it, though?" I ask. "Are they really safer not knowing? How can our families be safe if they don't even know they could be in danger? Take me, for instance. Imagine that Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz isn't a kind-hearted eccentric who's less evil and more a guy with bad coping mechanisms. Imagine he's cold and cruel and truly evil!" I stand upright and ball my trembling fists in front of me. "What is stopping him from tracking me down and learning I have a family? What is stopping him from sneaking into my house in the dead of night, when everyone is at their most vulnerable? If my family doesn't know that I'm a secret agent with dangerous enemies, they'll be totally blindsided! They won't understand why this awful man is here and why he keeps talking about Agent P! They'll just see this…this random pharmacist pointing a gun at their heads." A traitorous tear escapes, followed by a breath that's just shy of a sob. I sniff and brush the wet streak off my face. "If we were allowed to tell our host families the truth, we could ensure that they were prepared for situations like that. But, as it stands now…" I can't finish that sentence.

Pinky's arms are crossed even tighter, like he's trying to be as small as possible. His head is hanging so low that the brim of his fedora is hiding his expression from me. This is the longest I've ever seen him go without shaking. "You've really thought about this."

"Yeah," I sigh.

"I've pictured scenarios like that," he admits. "In my nightmares, it isn't a pharmacist with a gun. It's a supermodel wannabe with a syringe full of cyanide. Guns are too messy for her tastes." When Pinky meets my eyes, his are deepened by endless emotion. "Esmeralda and I aren't like you and Heinz, but we have a healthy working relationship, and I know she would never go after my family. Even so, you're right that there are a lot of people who would. And, you're also right that our families would be better protected if they knew they might need protecting."

When he doesn't say anything else, I throw my hands in front of me. "Aren't you going to convince me that I shouldn't come clean to my boys?"

Still with his arms crossed and his head downward, Pinky joins me by Ramona, leaning against her hood. "You've always been braver than me, Perry. That's why I stay behind the scenes on the computers while you face off against knife-wielding maniacs."

Where is he going with this? "You're pretty brave yourself. Sneaking into enemy bases and disabling security systems and the like? That takes guts."

That draws a small smile out of him. Then he sucks in a breath through his nose and turns to me. "Perry, I'm not going to tell you what to do. Just know that if you decide to go through with this, I won't tell anyone."

The knot in my chest has finally come undone. "Thanks, Pinky."

"Of course, if you get caught, you understand if I play dumb."

"Ha ha! Totally. Now it's your turn. What crazy idea do I need to talk you out of?"

Pinky's entire body seems to get heavier with one simple question. He turns away, breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, and reveals, "I'm thinking about going rogue."

…

When I can form words again, I say, "You know, we could have easily started with yours."

Pinky groans and drags his paws down his face. "I was going to tell you this days ago, but by some crazy coincidence, the day I was going to tell you was the day they sent out that email about your dad!"

My blood freezes. "I totally forgot you wanted to tell me something. Pinky, I-"

He holds up a silencing paw. "Don't apologize. After I learned your dad was, you know, I was praying you would forget. I couldn't do that to you. Not so soon!"

"Well, it's not quite that soon anymore, so tell me now."

Yes. Back to my comfort zone. Give me espionage. Give me government conspiracies. Give me scientists building weird and/or morally questionable machines.

Pinky has gone back to shaking, but he's doing it hard enough to make Ramona vibrate. He sees this and stops leaning against her, standing before me now and wringing his paws. "I spent the whole night breaching OWCA's database and sneaking around HQ and learning everything I could about the genetic modification process."

My pulse pounds as I lean with one hand on Ramona and the other curled into a fist on my hip. "And?"

Pinky rubs his arms up and down. "I-I don't wanna say too much without Frieda here. She's in this, too."

I fix him with a stern look. "Are you comfortable with telling her you're considering going rogue?"

Pinky sinks further into himself. He and Frieda have always gotten along, but he didn't grow up with her living next door like I did. She isn't his godmother. She didn't babysit him or teach him how to pick locks or tell him embarrassing stories that made his father shoo her out of the room. Pinky likes Frieda, but he isn't close with her the way I am.

I stand upright and let myself soften. "Pinky Garcia-Shapiro, if you want me to talk you out of this, I need to know everything."

The wait is soul-crushing, but eventually, Pinky concedes. "I learned where they get the animal parts."

He waits for a reaction. I don't show him the fearful anticipation gnawing at my gut. I simply nod and let him go at his own pace.

"They…" He lets out a small whine and shuts his eyes while tugging his fedora lower on his head. "They get them from real animals."

"I kind of figured that out, Pinky." But, hearing it spoken aloud makes my skin prickle.

Pinky shakes his head, still clutching his fedora like a lifeline. His eyes are misty when he opens them. "Not just any animals, Perry. They get them from other agents."

Blood is roaring in my ears. It's a miracle I can hear anything over it and the pounding of my heart. "Elaborate."

"When an agent dies, they…they scrape off whatever parts are still in good condition…for the next animal." Pinky's voice breaks at the end, and he squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a hard breath. "They're recycling us, Perry!"

My head is swimming, trying desperately to make sense of what I'm hearing.

Agents are made by…by reusing parts from other agents? That means that every agent has…has…corpse bits in them? I have gorilla and labrador retriever and elephant and Abyssinan cat in me. Pinky has dolphin and beagle and raven and rhinoceros and cheetah.

I and Pinky and all of the agents have pieces of dead agents inside of us?

"You're kidding."

Pinky's head is bowed as he releases some pained whimpers. His paws are bunched into fists at his sides.

"You're not kidding."

His lower lip quivers. Tears fall from his closed eyes.

I rake my hands through the fur under my fedora. This sounds like the plot of a horror/sci-fi movie, but I thought the same thing about us having any random animal parts in us, let alone ones from…other agents.

A horrible thought blasts through my skull. "That's why you didn't tell me when we found out my Dad-"

Pinky's head shoots upright. His expression is fierce, though his eyes glimmer with unshed tears. "Perry, don't."

It was a closed casket ceremony. They said it was because of the damage to Dad's body, and Frieda confirmed that it was indeed that bad.

But, was my father's body really in that casket?

The world sways, and I slap my hand on Ramona's door when my knees buckle.

"Perry?" Pinky has his paws out, ready to catch me if I pass out.

Shaking my head only succeeds in making me queasy, but I use every ounce of my strength to pull myself upright and remain that way.

Iron will, nerves of steel, and several other metal-themed attributes. That's what my theme song boasts, and I'm not rewriting it yet.

"I wanna see the evidence for myself," I say. "And, we should get Frieda up to speed. I was on my way to the zoo anyway to check on my mom. You wanna come with? You can let Frieda know what's going on."

Though my friend's fur is still damp, having a task to do hardens him. "Sounds good."

"And, Pinky?" I say when he moves to get into his hovercar. "If you go rogue, and they send me after you because we're neighbors," I wink at him, "I'll make sure I'm off my game that day."

He barely smiles, but I'm calling it a win.

While Pinky meets up with Frieda in her lair to fill her in on…that stuff, I spend my visit with Mom tucked away in a burrow. I haven't shared a burrow with Mom in years, and it's much more of a squeeze than I remember. Our body heat in such an enclosed space combined with the high humidity is making the temperature unbearable as well.

There's nowhere I'd rather be.

We don't say much. We simply cuddle, drawn even closer than we already were - emotionally, as there is no feasible way for us to be closer physically right now - by our love for each other and our grief for my father and her husband.

Mom falls asleep at some point, and I have started to doze off myself until my wrist-com beeps. Mom startles awake with a loud snort and a cry of, "My watermelon!"

What could Monogram possibly be calling me about now? The day after my father's funeral? Apparently, he doesn't care enough to remember that I'm on bereavement leave either.

"Answer it," Mom says when all I do is glare at the stupid thing. "It might be important."

As long as she's okay with it.

I take the call, and Monogram's face appears on the screen. "Agent P, I know you're on bereavement leave, but apparently Doofenshmirtz forgot. Unlike me!" He grins widely, showing too many teeth. "I would never forget something so important, because I respect you and your emotions! Unrelated, but have you lost weight?"

I attempt to shoot lasers from my eyes.

He instantly deflates. "Aaaaand, you're still mad at me."

A voice from off-screen calls, "I told you he would be, sir."

"No one likes an I-told-you-so, Carl!" Monogram returns his attention to me. "Anyway, our sources tell us that Doofenshmirtz fired a mysterious beam from his balcony this morning. You know what to do." There's that too-wide grin again. "Because you're such a skilled and valued agent! And, your bill is really shiny today! And, those three hairs on your head have never looked better…" He trails off when I pretend to have laser eyes again. "Uh, just stop Doof."

He smartly ends the call, and I pull out my personal cell and text Heinz.

Sources say that you fired off an inator this morning. Explain.

"Do you have to go now, Perry?" Mom asks. Mostly curious, but there's a trace of disappointment that she can't quite hide. Not from me.

"I doubt it," I say. "Supposedly, Heinz fired one of his inators this morning, but he wouldn't conduct a scheme so soon after…yesterday. It was probably a misfire."

My phone chimes with Heinz's reply.

That was a total accident. Norm was being Norm.🙄 No schemes until further notice. Focus on yourself and your family.

I sigh in relief and text him back.

Suspected as much but had to be sure. Thank you.

"Called it," I announce as I put my phone away. "He says the inator going off was an accident, and I believe him."

"Your nemesis is really nice for a bad guy," Mom comments.

I shrug. "Heinz may be a bad guy, but he isn't a bad guy. Know what I mean?"

Mom nods and hums in agreement. "You've told me some of the bad things he's done, but he seems very kind. I assume. I couldn't understand anything he was saying, but his tone and body language were kind."

"Heinz is kind," I tell her. "Like I was telling Pinky earlier, Heinz is just eccentric and has bad coping mechanisms."

Mom tries to roll over but gives up when the close quarters interfere too much. "I'd like to meet with him again. Under better circumstances. Really get to know him." She nudges my bill with hers. "With you as interpreter, of course."

I smile and press my cheek against hers. "I'd love that. And, so would he. We'll have to schedule something."

Mom hums in reply, and we fall back into silence until she says, "It's still weird having the habitat to myself. I always knew there may come a day when your father never came back from a mission. I've been mentally preparing myself since he first told me he was a secret agent, long before we got together. Yet, I can't grasp the fact that it really happened."

"I can't either," I confess. "The possibility's always in the back of my mind, even that I myself might not come back." I sigh and somehow nuzzle closer to my mother. "Does my being an agent bother you, Mom?"

"Of course not!" Mom assures. Then she clenches her bill. "Well, it bothers me a little. Like you said…you might not come back one day. But, it's like I told you before. If the life you have makes you happy, then I'm happy too."

I don't feel very happy these days, but I won't burden my mother with the reasons why.

Mom adds quietly, "I've been thinking about Lucille lately."

My body goes rigid. Mom and Dad never talked much about my sister, the puggle who never hatched. When they did, it was always with an age-old grief that I could never fully comprehend. Now isn't any different.

Mom adjusts her forelegs, spreading them out in front of her and speaking in a faraway manner. "I thought I'd never truly grieve again until your father…" She chokes up too much to finish that sentence.

I tap my bill against hers. "Can I tell you something I've never told anyone before?"

That perks her up a little. "Sure."

"Sometimes…I dream about a platypus. A female puggle with light teal fur like yours and dark brown eyes like mine and Dad's. Her bill and tail are more like yours, though. She has no interest in being a secret agent, but she likes to sneak out of the zoo after hours and explore. I'm certain it's Lucille." I see that my mother's eyes are glimmering, and I regret saying anything. "Aw, Mom, I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have-"

Mom shakes her head with a smile. "No, no! I'm glad you have dreams like that. Sometimes I dream about her too, and so did your father. It makes me happy to know that Lucille is still connected to us, even if she isn't actually here."

My heart hurts but not in a bad way. "Do you think we'll have dreams about Dad soon?"

Mom nods. "I'm certain of it."

My lifted mood is ruined by my wrist-com beeping again. The only reason I answer is because Mom tells me to. When I see the face on the screen, I'm glad I listened.

"Hey, Agent P," Carl says. "Don't mind Major Monogram. He has to go back to animal sensitivity training because someone complained about him to HR. He's sucking up because he thinks it was you. Was it?"

I grin at him and wink.

He laughs and winks back. "I won't say a word!"

He flinches when Major Monogram's voice echoes from off-screen. "Carl, what are you doing with the camera?"

"Nothing, sir!" Carl is quick to end the call.

Apparently, Pinky confessed to Frieda that he was thinking about going rogue. Frieda's response: "I won't tell anyone, Pinky, but I want you to really think about this before you go through with it."

Whether or not Pinky will go through with it, I can't say. It's out of my hands.

What I can do is fill in the remaining living member of our team. Frieda and Pinky gave me permission to reveal their identities, and I spend the flight to Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc. pondering how to phrase everything. Ultimately, I decide to let Pinky's flashdrive to the talking.

Frieda and I saw the data Pinky collected. Data doesn't lie. OWCA is reusing us, stripping our corpses so they can shove our enhancements and some refresher chemicals or whatever they are into new agents.

The Organization Without a Cool Acronym does so much good for the world. How can they do such vile things behind the scenes?

My father… What did they take from him? What is being preserved for the next dying animal who deserves the chance to live and has no idea what sacrifices had been made in advance? I ponder all of this while I watch Heinz sit at his computer and go over the files and videos Pinky collected.

There are very, very, very few things that can render Heinz Doofenshmirtz speechless. Yet, he is white as a ghost, his lips are parted as he takes in and exhales unsteady breaths, and the mouse quivers in his too-tight grasp.

Suddenly, he slaps his hand over his mouth and bolts out of his office, his momentum spinning the chair around. The door is left wide open, and retching sounds can be heard from down the hall. A startled cry of "Dad!" can be heard immediately after, and I unleash a string of mental curses as I race into the hallway.

Vanessa is standing outside of the bathroom and turns her shocked expression on me when she sees me approach. "Perry, what happened?"

I hear the toilet flush before Heinz shakily steps into the hallway. "I-I'm alright, pumpkin. Daddy's alright."

He's not alright, and Vanessa sees it too. "Dad, you're really pale. Perry, help me get him to bed."

Heinz holds out his hands when his daughter reaches for him. "Really, Nessa, I'm fine. I just, uh… S-something didn't agree with me, but I feel better now." He steps around her. "Perry the Platypus and I need to finish something up. Don't worry," he adds when Vanessa opens her mouth. "It's not a scheme. I told you I was taking time off from evil, and I meant it. We're, uh, doing something else. Come on, Perry the Platypus. Let's-let's, uh, let's work on that…thing."

Once he's back in his office with the door closed, Vanessa places her hands on her hips and raises a skeptical eyebrow at me. "What is he not telling me?"

So, so much. I chitter the words, "You don't want to know," and hope she gets the meaning from my tone and my shaking head.

She does. "Whatever this is, will you at least make sure he doesn't overdo it?"

I give her a thumbs-up.

"One more thing," she says when I start to turn away. Her expression softens as she steps forward and bends down with her hands on her knees. "Dad told me about your dad. If you need to talk - or write, I guess - I've got you."

There's a twinge in my chest and a sad smile on my bill as I pat her hand in thanks. Then I walk back into Heinz's office.

Heinz is seated in his desk chair and facing the door. He is bent over with his head in his hands. He doesn't react when I walk up to him.

"Pfennig for your thoughts?" I chitter.

He draws in a long, quivering breath. "I was going to use this for evil. I was going to build an army of anthropomorphic animals." He lowers his hands and looks at me with hollow eyes. "That wasn't the initial plan. I-I just wanted to know how the genetic modification process worked! The scheme idea came later." He spins around to stare at the computer screen and rakes his long fingers through his perpetually messy brown locks. "This is…evil. It's not even good evil. It's bad evil! You all have… You have…other agents…" He shivers again and lowers his hands. His next words are thick and quiet. "Oh mein gott, Brutus…"

"Don't go there, Heinz," I croak out.

Heinz picks up the message from my tone. He spins back around and wrings his hands in his lap. Color has returned to his cheeks. "Okay, so…what's the plan now? W-where do we go from here? This-this can't keep happening!"

Where do we go from here? A simple question that's difficult to answer.

Some of the images Pinky showed us were actual photographs and videos he took when he somehow managed to sneak into the room where the…parts are kept. (And, he thinks I'm the brave one.) He described the room like a meat locker, being frigidly cold to keep everything preserved for as long as possible. He also showed us documentations of some of the parts, which listed the chemicals used and what part came from which agent and what that part was for.

Half of me wants to sneak into the same area just to see it all for myself, to confirm what my heart refuses to fully believe.

The other half has his head in a toilet.

"Perry the Platypus?" Heinz says, snapping me out of my mind. "Is there anything we can do? There-there has to be something! We can't just sit around all day when the so-called 'good guys' are…"

The unfinished sentence hovers between us.

I mime holding a pad and writing in it, and Heinz pulls a pen and small notebook out of his desk drawer and hands them to me. For a short time, the only sounds that can be heard are the scratching of a pen on paper and the whirring of the air conditioning system.

Let me start by telling you who's on the team. Pinky the Chihuahua is our tech expert. He's the one who obtained all that data. There's also Frieda the Flamingo. She's the godmother I told you about. She's mostly along for the ride at the moment, but she'll step in when needed. My father was the third member.

The pen freezes just above the page. I push the grief aside and keep writing.

I have no idea what comes next, Heinz. Pinky is working on something, but he needs time.

The thing Pinky is "working on" is deciding whether or not to go rogue. After he left the zoo, Frieda and I agreed to wait for his final decision before proceeding any further.

Frieda confided in me that she might be willing to help Pinky from the sidelines. Me? I wasn't lying when I said I'd let him go free, but would I help him directly? I'm not sure yet.

Everything is happening so fast…

Which means there's something I need to do before things get any crazier.

In the meantime, there's a personal matter I could use your help with. If I can trust you with my biggest secret.

I hand Heinz the pen and notebook. He reads intently, dutifully taking in each and every word and saddening when he, I assume, reaches the mention of my father.

When he's finished, he throws the notebook on his lap and narrows his eyes at me. "Of course you can trust me, Perry the Platypus! I told you that friendimosity is a two-way street! Think of all the personal matters you've helped me with! Your secret will not leave this room. Actually it will leave this room because we will be leaving the room at some point. Where did that even come from? 'It will not leave this room.' Unless the people who know the secret plan on staying in one room for the rest of their lives-"

I cut him off pulling something out of my fedora and handing it to him. He takes it with a curious frown.

"What's this? A pamphlet? 'So, you've discovered your pet is a secret agent.' I don't have a pet, Perry the Platypus. Why are you giving this to me? Why do you even have this?"

I suppress an eye roll and wedge my thumb under my platypus-foot-shaped ID tag and jut it out for Heinz to see.

"Your collar? What-" He looks at the pamphlet, and the gears start to turn. "Are you somebody's pet?"

I nod and point to the pamphlet.

He glances down at it. "'So, you've discovered your pet-' Does-does your owner not know you're a secret agent?"

My chest aches as I press my hands together then spread them downward with the palms up.

Heinz opens the pamphlet and reads silently. "Let me get this straight," he says when he's finished. "If your 'host family' finds out that you're a secret agent, not only do you have to leave them forever, but they have to have their memories of you erased? So, you couldn't even visit them?"

I lower my head and pull down the brim of my fedora so he can't see the face I'm making.

"I don't believe this!" Heinz snaps. "At LOVEMUFFIN, we welcome our families with open arms! And, we're the bad guys!" He huffs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and pouting like a stubborn child. He glares down at the pamphlet still crinkled in his hand. "So, why are you telling me? Your silly little pamphlet says that your nemesis can't know either or the same thing will- Wait!" he gasps, dropping the pamphlet and bringing his fists to his chest. "Your owner isn't bad to you, is he? Or, she?"

I grit my teeth and wave my hands in front of me.

Heinz relaxes instantly. "No? Then, why are you telling me?"

I hold out my hands. He gives me the notebook and pen.

I can't explain it. All I know is that it suddenly hit me that I couldn't stand lying to them anymore. Specifically, my family's two young sons. They're my boys the same way Vanessa is your girl. I was hanging out with them in the backyard this morning, and this compulsion to tell them everything hit me out of nowhere. Telling my boys the truth might be the worst idea I've ever had, but the compulsion is too powerful to ignore, and I know they would keep my secret. I have an idea of how to ease them into it, and there's a way you can help if you're interested.

As he reads what I've written, a strange expression crosses his face. He turns his head to stare thoughtfully at the wall.

I don't see anything of interest over there, so I prompt, "What is it?"

This brings back from wherever he was just now, though he gestures to the wall and says, "I-I was- Eh, nevermind. It's probably a coincidence." He chuckles and adds, "I mean, what are the odds?"

Is that something I should worry about?

"But, yeah, I'll totally help you, Perry the Platypus. What do you need me to do?"

Chapter Text

Perry

The next morning, Stacy walks in through the back gate, right on schedule. And, of course, the boys and I are relaxing under our tree as they ponder today's activity. A decision I've made for them, though they don't know it yet.

"Hi, Stacy," Phineas greets as the teenager in question approaches. "Candace isn't here. She's having a girls' day with Mom."

Nobody needs to know how Linda managed to score those two coupons for the "deluxe celebrity treatment" at the spa. I couldn't risk Candace catching wind of this and turning it into a bust.

If this works out, I might gain the courage to tell the rest of my family where I go all the time. For now…

"Actually," Stacy says to the boys, "I'm here for you guys."

The boys stand up and give Stacy their undivided attention. Meanwhile, I slip away and crawl into a bush to observe without the risk of looking intelligent too early. My nerves are through the roof, but it's too late to back out.

Stacy pulls a small folded up paper out of her skirt pocket. "A friend of mine set up a little scavenger hunt for you guys. But, the stipulation is that you can't tell anyone about it. You'll understand why at the end."

"Weird yet intriguing," Phineas says. "Are there any other rules?"

"Nope. There are other people involved who will give you your next clue at each of the stops. They'll confront you, so again, don't mention it to anyone who doesn't already know about it."

As anticipated, Phineas declares, "Ferb, she knows what we're gonna do today!"

I knew that my boys wouldn't hesitate if the scavenger hunt was suggested by someone they trusted, but I also needed to use humans who knew both them and my secret identity. Only three humans fit the bill, so it's going to be a short hunt, but it'll get the job done.

After Ferb takes the offered paper, Stacy cracks her knuckles and says, "Well, I've done my part. Good luck, guys!"

My boys thank her and say goodbye (silently in Ferb's case), unaware that Stacy's parting words were partially directed at me. When I told her what I was doing, she was supportive even if she thought I was insane. Having been best friends with Candace all these years, I guess she's used to that sort of thing.

From my hiding place, I watch Ferb unfold the paper and hear Phineas read the note aloud. "'There once was a platypus who lived with a lovely blended family.' Hey, that sounds like Perry!"

I fight a laugh.

Phineas continues. "'The platypus loved his family with all his heart, yet there were many times when he would wander off for hours, days on occasion. Yet, he would always come home, sometimes with injuries, always with a new story to tell. Because this platypus had a secret… Follow the clue on the back to continue the story.' This is already fun!" Phineas comments. "It sounds like someone wrote a story about our platypus! I gotta know what the secret is! Let's take a look at that clue, Ferb!"

With an enthusiasm that can only be picked up on if you've known him long enough, Ferb flips the paper over, and the boys observe the picture on the back.

"A bunch of tools on shelves," Phineas muses. He hums and taps his chin. "Where would we find tools on shelves? A hardware store, probably. But, which one?"

Come on, boys…

Ferb points to what I know is a cut off image of the store's logo, cut off enough to be hidden yet recognizable if you're paying attention.

They both pick up on it, but naturally Phineas is the one who gives it voice. "That looks like the Totally Tools logo! Whoever wrote this must be keeping up with the platypus theme. Remember when we got Perry a gig as the Totally Tools mascot?"

The downside to that day was that, by sheer dumb luck, I had to wear a brown fedora for those pictures. My face was on all the advertisements, so there was no way for me to properly perform my duties.

Then I realized that left me with more time to spend with my family, and I decided to make the most of my fifteen minutes of fame.

"I'm gonna tell Dad where we're going," Phineas says. "Would you mind wondering where Perry is for me?"

Ferb cups his chin in his hand and adopts a thoughtful expression.

"Thanks!"

I tail the boys as they walk to Totally Tools and listen with no shortage of amusement as they speculate on what "the platypus's" secret could be.

"I think he's a superhero!" Phineas muses. "That would explain why gets hurt sometimes. I bet those injuries are from fighting supervillains!"

He isn't too far off the mark.

Ferb offers an alternative. "Or, perhaps the platypus is the supervillain."

"Oh!" Phineas brings his fists to his chest. "That would be a fun twist!"

Their speculations get wilder from there. Could the platypus be a shapeshifter? Could he be an alien sent to harvest human organs but who grew to care for the human family he targeted? Could he have a secret girlfriend who's a ninja? (Why a ninja, I have no idea.)

Despite the giggles I get from hearing Phineas ramble on and Ferb occasionally throw his two cents in, there's a whirlpool in my stomach. I can't believe I'm doing this. And, in such a roundabout way? I wanted to ease them into it, try and make it fun for them, but maybe it would have been better to just come out and say it.

"Were we just a cover story to you? I mean, were you ever really our pet or part of our family?"

…No. This is the way to do it. Gently, without an overabundance of adrenaline, and mostly importantly, on my own terms.

My second accomplice in this wild endeavor is leaning against the wall outside of Totally Tools, playing on her phone. She sees the boys crossing the street - and possibly me using my grappling hook to get across from above and perch on somebody's balcony - and puts her phone away.

"Hey, you two," Vanessa greets at the boys' approach. "I bet you're expecting something."

After she befriended Candace last summer, I knew it wouldn't take long before my nemesis's daughter learned the Flynn-Fletchers had a pet platypus named Perry and put two and two together. I explained the whole secret thing to her, and she's been keeping that secret ever since.

Soon she will have two less people to keep it from.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Phineas asks.

Vanessa reaches into her pocket and hands him the next part of the story. "Here you go. Good luck, you two."

"Bye, Vanessa!" Phineas says while he and Ferb wave goodbye. After Vanessa waves back and goes on her way, my boys scan the area. "Looks like there's no one within earshot. Let's see what the platypus's secret is."

I deeply appreciate their dedication to the secrecy of this scavenger hunt. It makes me even more confident that they'll keep my agent status to themselves.

Phineas reads the story aloud. "'You see, this platypus was no ordinary mammal. He was actually a secret agent, regarded by many as the one of the best in the business.' A secret agent, huh? I don't know why we didn't think of that." Ferb shrugs, and Phineas keeps reading. "'Typically, the platypus's duties were limited to keeping the Tri-State Area safe from his arch nemesis, a scientist who wasn't quite as evil as he would boast and who at some point became the platypus's best friend.'"

"Sounds like the scientist and the platypus are like Buford and Baljeet," Ferb comments.

"Yeah," Phineas says, "it kind of does."

I never thought of it like that, but I can see the similarities in my dynamic with Heinz. Albeit, with more explosions.

Phineas returns his attention to the paper in his hands. "'But, sometimes the platypus would face off against true criminals. Drug lords, human traffickers, murderers, and one particular monster that you're too young to know about. The platypus longed to tell his family that he wasn't the mindless pet they perceived him to be. Every day he grappled with the desire to tell them the truth. But, there was one thing that kept his bill firmly shut… Follow the clue on the back to finish the story.'" He turns the paper over. "It's that weird building that's shaped like your head, Ferb. The next person must be there. It's a pretty big building, though. How are we gonna narrow it down? The first two clues were given to us by people we know, so logically someone else we know must be-"

Ferb whips out a piece of paper I can't see from my angle.

Phineas brightens at whatever is on there. "Of course! Dr. D lives there! He must be the next person we have to meet! Let's get moving, Ferb!"

There have been a few instances where my boys and my nemesis had to work together, and I swear I had multiple heart attacks each time. This instance is my own doing, yet I'm convinced I'll end up on a stretcher any minute.

Heinz

I can't get over the fact that I already know Perry the Platypus's family! I only know Lawrence in passing; turns out he was that British man who got sucked into the LOVEMUFFIN Pageant of Evil and got hit with my make-everything-evil-inator. But, my daughter is friends with Candace, and I got along well with Phineas and Ferb - Perry the Platypus's boys, apparently - on the few occasions when I ran into them. I even dated their mom!

Granted, I only had one date with Linda…and it didn't end well. Kudos to her for becoming a pop star, though.

Oh! There's a knock at my door! Game face, Heinz! It's showtime!

I've been pacing by the door since Perry the Platypus texted me that Phineas and Ferb were on their way. Now I open it to find a familiar triangle-headed kid smiling at me and an equally familiar green-haired kid gazing at me with that blank look he's always wearing.

"Hello, boys!" I greet with a finger wave. "Come on in. I suppose you're here to finish the story."

"You know it, Dr. D!" Phineas says as he and his brother step into my living room. "Ferb was going on and on about it on the way here. I can't remember the last time I heard him talk so much in one sitting!"

I can't remember hearing him talk at all. I honestly thought the kid was mute.

I close the door and close the blinds on the window just to be safe.

Whose bright idea was it to install a huge window to the hallway of an apartment building, anyway? This is why I installed blinds. Now people can't look at me when I'm walking around in my underwear. As an added bonus, if those cute little Fireside Girls come by selling those delicious cupcakes that you can't not buy, I don't have to know.

"Dr. D? Dr. D?"

Phineas's voice makes me turn around. "Sorry," I say. "I started rambling in my head. Normally, I'd be rambling out of my head. Like-like with my mouth. In the way I'm doing now. But-but, for some reason the rambling stayed inside of my head this time. Huh. Weird. Anyway, you aren't here to listen to me ramble internally or externally. You want to know more about that platypus."

"Totally!" Phineas exclaims. "We wanna know why he can't tell his family he's a secret agent. Say," he cups his chin and raises an eyebrow at me, "you're presumably the last stop on our scavenger hunt. Are you, by any chance, the guy who made it for us?"

I wave my hand downward. "Oh, heck, no. I'm not nearly that clever. The guy who did make it is…a friend of mine. He figured you'd be able to piece together his identity once you knew the whole story."

"Cool!" Phineas says to his brother. "A story we have to analyze!"

Ferb doesn't react. At all. And, I thought Perry the Platypus could be hard to read!

I reach into my lab coat pocket and pull out OWCA's silly little pamphlet. "Okay, here you go. It's more of a tie-in than a story, but it is pivotal in your understanding of what this scavenger hunt is about. Pay close attention to the subtext if you want to know who's behind this."

"Let's analyze our butts off, Ferb!" Phineas says.

A soft spoken British voice startles me. Ferb really can talk! "Wouldn't it be 'analyze our brains out?' Nevermind. Doesn't have the same ring."

The boys each hold on to one end of the open pamphlet as they read in silence. Then, Phineas holds the pamphlet and while Ferb pulls out the papers with the rest of the "story" written on them. I grapple with the need to babble or find something to do. I've never done well with silence. Spending days and nights as a lawn gnome, forced to stand there in the quiet nothingness while staying completely still, stole away any tolerance I had for what others may consider peaceful. Still, I remain quiet even though my heart is racing and the temperature is starting to increase.

My cellphone chimes, and the boys look up. I grin in embarrassment. "Sorry. Eh, text. Don't mind me. Just keep analyzing."

"Our brains are going wild!" Phineas says happily.

He and his (step?) brother refocus on the pamphlet, and I sigh in relief and pull my phone out of my pants pocket. It's Perry the Platypus.

I'm in the vents. Been following the boys since they left. Sorry. I should have warned you that they would ponder in silence. We can keep texting if you want. They won't mind.

Why are there now tears in my eyes? This is so embarrassing. But, the idea of having something to do eases the pounding in my chest. I text back.

Thank you. I don't get why people think total silence is PEACEFUL! Expect a loud-noise-inator in the near future. Insert maniacal laughter here.

His response makes me swallow a maniacal chuckle.

I'll bring my ear plugs. 🙄

"Ferb, you don't think!" Phineas suddenly exclaims.

Showtime: Part Two.

I put my phone away and tell the boys, "I'll answer any questions you no doubt have."

The boys stare wide-eyed at each other, then at me, then at each other, then at me. Ferb opens his mouth. It hangs open for a moment before closing again.

Phineas speaks instead. "Um, Dr. D? By any chance, is the platypus's name Perry?"

"Mmaaayybbeeee," I draw out.

Phineas stammers a few syllables. Ferb opens his mouth then closes it again.

"So, wait," Phineas says at last. "Does this mean our Perry is…is a secret agent? And, he couldn't tell us because then he'd have to leave forever…and we'd have to forget we ever knew him?"

I snap my fingers. "Got it in one."

I can actually read Ferb's expression now, as it mirrors the surprising amount of sadness that's on Phineas's face.

Phineas asks quietly. "Did-did Perry make this scavenger hunt?"

"That was him, alright," I confirm. "He told me he- Well, he didn't tell me. He-he can't talk, you see. He mostly communicates with written words and hand gestures. And, text messages when we aren't in the same room. But, he conveyed to me that he didn't want to hide the truth from you boys anymore."

For some reason that makes them even sadder. I would have expected two ten-year-olds to be more excited about their pet being a secret agent.

It all adds up with Phineas's next words. "Does that mean Perry doesn't like being in our family?"

"KRKRKRKR!"

There's a loud clang when the vent cover lands on the hardwood floor. Perry the Platypus darts over to us, not subtle at all, not hiding his anthropomorphism.

"Perry?!" Phineas exclaims when he and his brother whirl around and see their pet standing on two legs and wearing a brown fedora. "Is that you?"

Perry the Platypus glares dagger at me, somehow conveying sorrow, panic, and I will stab you if you don't leave all at the same time.

I cough into my fist. "I, uh… I'm gonna go…somewhere else."

Perry

Heinz wanders off, leaving me alone with my boys. Not one of us speaks. Not one of us knows what to say. I wasn't planning on revealing myself until Heinz was able to explain everything. But, when Phineas asked that question, I lost it.

How could Phineas and Ferb ever think that I don't love our family? That I don't love them?

Phineas throws his hands out toward me. "You're a secret agent. An honest to goodness secret agent. And, you have been all this time?"

I nod and try to steady my breathing.

"Why are you telling us if it means you'd have to leave? Did we do something wrong?"

I shake my head and grab the story papers from Ferb, scanning for the sentence, "The platypus loved his family with all his heart." I point to that sentence and show it to the boys.

It calms them but not enough. "Okay," Phineas says carefully, "so you do love us. But, why would you tell us now?"

Even I can't answer that question for certain. Still, I let the story papers fall to the floor and pull out the notepad and pen I keep with me and jot down my working theory.

There's been so much going on in my life lately, most of it pretty bad. The other night, when you saw through my guise and saw how sad I was? That night came after I hit one of my lowest points ever. I wouldn't have slept so soundly without you boys on either side of me. The morning after, it finally hit me how much I despise lying to you two. I hate lying to our whole family, but you're my boys. I love you so much. You two are special to me in a way that I can't put into words. As long as neither of you breathes a word about my double life, I think we can make this work. I wouldn't mind coming out to Candace and your parents, but I'd rather keep it between the three of us for now. That being said, I understand if you aren't comfortable lying to them.

I hand them my notepad and pretend that I'm not on the verge of collapse as I wait for their response.

It takes way too long for Phineas and Ferb to look at each other…and smile.

"Sure, Perry," Phineas says. "We'll keep your secret. Even from Mom, Dad, and Candace. We don't want to lie to them, but it's your secret, so we can do it if it makes you more comfortable."

"Clearly," Ferb adds, "you've been doing it for quite some time. It's only fair that we do the same until you're ready."

They… They aren't mad. Phineas isn't yelling at me. Ferb isn't looking at me like he's never seen me before.

They accept me.

I've been strung up tight all morning and all of last night, when I barely slept because I was so afraid of how this would end. Now I press my hands to my eyes and bow my head as sobs I can't control ravage my body.

"Oh no!" Phineas shouts. "Did we say something bad?"

Still crying, I shake my head. They didn't say a single bad thing. Just the opposite.

Ferb's quiet tone asks, "Could this be one of those stress-relieving cries?"

I nod. That's a good way to describe it.

I cry even harder when I feel my boys wrap me in their arms.

Heinz

I didn't eavesdrop on their conversation - I'm not quite evil enough - but it clearly went well, and that's a huge relief. I offer to make some hot cocoa while I help Perry the Platypus explain everything, and we all congregate in the kitchen.

While I'm making our drinks, Phineas and Ferb regale their pet with questions, yes or no ones to avoid the language barrier. Everything from "Do you have a bunch of cool gadgets?" to "Can we still give you belly rubs?" I've never seen my nemesis smile so much. It's like he's been carrying this huge weight on his shoulders and was finally allowed to drop it. (Note to self: weight-on-my-shoulders-inator.)

The chatter doesn't cease when I set four steaming mugs on the kitchen table and we all sit down, with Perry the Platypus in his booster seat, of course. He has a notebook - the travel-sized one that I grabbed while I was making myself scarce - out and is ready to answer any curiosities that can't be satiated with a simple yes or no.

"Do you have a romantic partner?" Ferb asks him. "If so, are they a ninja?"

"Why a ninja?" I ask.

"Why not a ninja?" Ferb counters.

Perry the Platypus laughs before jotting something down. I crane my neck so I can read while he writes. I, too, am curious whether or not my nemesis is seeing anyone. Even more so now that the possibility of that person being a ninja has been brought up.

Happily single, and aro/ace to boot. I figured that out during a Pride Month celebration at work last summer.

Perry the Platypus notices me looking and, rather than glare at me like I thought he would, he nods, granting permission for me to look. I smile in thanks, and he keeps writing.

I use "celebration" loosely. All they did was hand out rainbow wristbands and pamphlets that discussed each category of the LGBT+ community. It was still pretty enlightening, at least for me.

He slides the notebook over to Phineas and Ferb. While they read the note, I say to Perry the Platypus, "You spelled 'arrow' wrong. Also, I never knew you were a skilled archer. 'Course it's not like I've given you a lot of opportunities to show off your archery skills."

Perry the Platypus cuts me off with an eye roll and the sight of him pulling out his tiny notepad. He writes in it then tears off the page and hands it to me before stowing the tiny notepad away. I have to hold the paper close to my face and squint to read the tiny writing.

Aromantic: feeling no romantic attraction toward anyone

Asexual: feeling no sexual attraction toward anyone

"Ooohhh," I say. "Now I get it. Shouldn't asexual be abbreviated differently, though?"

Perry the Platypus shrugs.

Ferb slides the notebook back to my nemesis, and Phineas asks, "So, Dr. D, how do you know Perry? Do you work together at," he glances down at the pamphlet, and his face twists in confusion, "ow-cah? Wow, they weren't kidding when they named it the Organization Without a Cool Acronym."

Perry the Platypus shrugs again, this time more animated and with a small grin.

"We do work together," I explain. "But, I don't work for OWCA. I work with - not for, with - an organization known as LOVEMUFFIN."

"What's that?" Phineas asks. "Some sort of bakers' association?"

"No, I-I'm not a baker," I correct. "I mean, I do bake but not professionally." Why is Perry the Platypus gritting his teeth and slicing his hand across his throat? I ignore the gesture and focus on the boys. "LOVEMUFFIN is an acronym like OWCA except, you know, cool. It stands for-"

Perry the Platypus makes that throat-cutting motion even faster and chitters loudly at me.

"What?" I snap at him. "I was just going to tell them that LOVEMUFFIN stands for the League of Evildoers Maniacally United For Frightening Investments in Naughtiness! I don't see what the big deal-"

"Wait!" Phineas shouts. He points at me. "You're evil?" He turns to Perry while still pointing at me. "He's evil?" He picks up his half-drank mug of cocoa with both hands. "We drank something made by someone evil?"

I take in Phineas and Ferb's whitening faces that are taught with horror and Perry the Platypus's frustrated chitter and facepalm, and I now know why my nemesis was trying to shut me up.

I wave my hands in front of me. "No no no no! I am evil, yes, but I have a whole thing about poisoning. And, that thing is that I would never do it. You see, during my teen years I went into this snake pit because- Eh, the reason's not important. Just know that I have no intention of poisoning you, okay? None. Zilch."

The boys turn to Perry the Platypus for guidance. His reassuring smile and the long sip he takes of his cocoa puts them at ease.

I gesture to my nemesis and say, "See? I'm a nice guy. I just do bad things sometimes. I'd tell you the story of why I turned evil, but-but that could take a couple of hours and not all of it is age-appropriate."

Ferb pulls out the story papers, and he and Phineas go over one of the pages before grinning at each other.

"I get it," Phineas says to me. "You're the nice evil scientist Perry wrote about in the story."

"Yeah! Yeah, that's me! I assume. I don't know exactly what was written, but..." I look to Perry the Platypus for confirmation. He holds up his mug in a salute to me. "It's totally me!"

I start to say more, but thundering mechanical footsteps get closer and closer until Norm is standing in the kitchen. "Dad," he says, "have you seen my- Oh! Hello, children. You must be Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher. My father informed me that you would be coming. Excuse me while I commit your energy readings to my memory banks to avoid one day mistaking you for a threat and obliterating you."

I told him not to say that…

Phineas and Ferb pay the disturbing comment no mind. They are utterly captivated as a wide red light emits from Norm's chest and waves over them from shoes to hair.

"Dr. D," Phineas says, "is this your robot?"

I raise my mug toward the robot in question. "Oh, yeah. That's Norm. My, er, son. Who is a robot." At Perry the Platypus's blatant shock, I shrug and say, "We're trying something."

My nemesis sends me one of his trademark smirks. He's always been able to see right through me. Must be his secret agent training.

That smirk melts into a fond amusement when Phineas pipes up, "Ferb, I know what we're gonna do tomorrow! Dr. D, do you have a schematic for Norm that we can use as a baseline?"

Perry

That night, my boys and I are too wound up from the day's events to sleep. I feel bad that they have to lie to our family as well, but I appreciate their desire to let me come out to everyone when I'm comfortable.

If I'm ever comfortable. I'm still wondering what mysterious force possessed me to tell Phineas and Ferb the truth. But after our long talk with Heinz and to a lesser extent Norm, I don't regret it a bit.

"A squirrel as a power source seems a little inefficient," Phineas says. "How do you feel about plutonium isotopes instead?"

Ferb gives a thumbs-up in reply.

My boys are lying back on Phineas's bed, each of them holding one end of Norm's schematic while they plan tomorrow's invention. I am curled up by their feet with a notebook and pen close by in case one of them needs my input, since I'm so familiar with Norm.

Heh. They want my input. I never thought I'd see the day.

I already texted Frieda, Pinky, Stacy, and Vanessa that the reveal went well. Frieda responded with a thumbs-up emoji and an offer to tell my mother about it, which I accepted. Stacy and Vanessa sent similar reassurances that they'd keep my blatant disregard of protocol on the down-low. Radio silence from Pinky however, and after learning of his desire to go rogue, that worries me.

Maybe I'm being paranoid. He might be in the middle of a mission, or perhaps he's with Vivian and Isabella and doesn't have an opening to check his phone. I hope one of those is the case.

"Hey, Perry," Phineas says suddenly. He and Ferb have put the schematic aside and are now sitting upright and staring at me intently. "There's something we meant to ask you earlier." Phineas scratches his ear, not quite meeting my eyes. "It's, um, a little personal. We understand if you don't want to answer."

Wary yet curious, I nod once.

Phineas accepts my silent invitation. "How did you get to be a secret agent? Platypuses don't do much, but you're obviously not a normal platypus. How did that happen?"

A few weeks ago, I would have had no problem telling them the little information I had. Now the very thought of the process has my fur standing on end and my metaphorical stomach in knots.

I reach for the pen with a shaking hand anyway. I'm through with lying to my boys. I want to be open and honest with them from now on. But, not too open and honest. I can give them the bare bones without lying.

They sense my discomfort, and Phineas holds out his hands and says, "Really, Perry. You can forget it. We don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

I ignore his protests and start writing. I explain that OWCA finds animals who are on their deathbed and gives them a second chance at life through genetic modification. I add that I don't know how the process works, which isn't really a lie, so they won't ask questions. I then tell them that the downside is that agents can't breed with regular animals and that I am an anomaly in that I was born to an agent father and a regular platypus mother. I don't mention my sister - that would only sadden them - but I do inform them that, so far, no one has been able to figure out how I was able to be born.

Of course, I make it clear that I didn't have to almost die to become anthropomorphic, adding that I always looked up to my father and took an interest in the field because of him. (That part sends a little twinge through my chest, but Phineas and Ferb don't have to know why. Not right now, at least.)

I hand them the notebook and let them soak in my written words. When they're done, Phineas says, "Wow, Perry. You just keep getting cooler!"

"The platypus as a species is a mystery," Ferb states. "And, you, my friend, are far more mysterious than some."

I can tell he meant that as a compliment, so I grin and shrug modestly.

"Ferb," Phineas chirps, "I thought of another thing we could do tomorrow. Genetic modifications!" I accidentally make a noise, and Phineas assures me, "Not to anything sentient. I was thinking we'd modify plants to do cool stuff."

My fur flattens, but I'm not relaxed. I know my boys wouldn't do anything to desecrate harm animals, but the idea of them messing around with that stuff sets me on edge. Nevermind the fact that they've done things like that before without issue.

My personal cellphone vibrates in hammerspace, setting me even more on edge because who would be calling me at this hour?

I pull it out, and Phineas asks, "Is that a work thing? Should we leave?"

My heart warms for the umpteenth time since I officially revealed my true self to them. I adore them for taking this as seriously as they do.

The caller ID tells me it's Pinky calling, so I hold up a reassuring hand and answer my phone.

"Are you alone?" Pinky barks before I can get a word in.

We're off to a terrible start. "Phineas and Ferb are here, but they won't know what we're saying."

"Oh, yeah. I saw your text. Congrats."

He said that too absently for my liking. "Thanks. And, don't worry. Your cover is safe. Though, it doesn't sound like you are."

Though neither of them speaks platypus, Phineas and Ferb are watching me as though they can. I stand up and turn away to avoid their penetrating gazes.

Pinky blows out a breath. "I'm doing it. I'm going rogue, Perry. I know I shouldn't. I've got Isa and Vivian and you and my other friends to think about, but-but you don't understand how…there this horrible idea is! I can't get it out of my head! It's like…like…"

"A compulsion?" I suggest. "That's how I felt about telling Phineas and Ferb about me."

"Then, you get it. I just wish my idea wasn't so...horrific."

I pinch the space between my eyes and wish that this day, one of the best days of my life, could have ended on a high note. "I'm not going to help you, Pinky. I'm sorry, but I can't do it. You go on about how brave I am, but I'm not brave enough for this."

"That's okay. I wasn't going to ask you. Frieda offered to work with me from the sidelines because of your dad." Because of what they're doing or have already done to his body, is what Pinky means. A shudder rips through me. "I'd rather not involve anyone, but she insists. But, I wanted you to be the first to know."

My heart breaks a little. "Thank you. If anything goes wrong, I'll make sure Isabella and Vivian are taken care of. However I can."

Pinky's voice is choked on the other line. "Gracias. As soon as I hang up, I'm going to call Frieda. Then, I'm going to use a burner laptop and a fake email address to send all the documents and pictures I took to everyone in OWCA."

"How did you get all of their emails?"

"Perry, do you know me? I once stole six dollars from the IRS because I was bored!"

I almost laugh. "Keep me posted if you can."

"I will. Gracias por ser mi amigo."

Thank you for being my friend. The words nail me in the chest. "Stop talking like you're gonna die or something!"

There's a quiet stress laugh on the other line. "Sorry."

"Pinky, you don't have to do this."

"...Yes, I do. I can't make myself not want to. Even if no one believes it, this at least needs to be out in the open. And, if I get caught, I… I don't know. I'll figure something out."

My throat tightens. I clench my bill and press my phone to my chest long enough to take a deep, steadying breath. Then I tell Pinky, "I know I said I wouldn't help you directly, but if the worst happens, come to me. You don't have to call first. Just find me, and I'll make you disappear. I know people in witness protection. You can start over wherever you want. And again, I'll do anything I can for Isabella and Vivian."

"Perry…" Pinky chokes on my name and collects himself before adding, "Thank you."

"Don't let it come to that."

"I'll try my best."

He hangs up. I take a quivering breath and put my phone away.

"Perry?"

Phineas's quiet concern makes me turn around. My boys are oddly blurry, and I realize it's because my eyes are full of tears. I'm not going to involve Phineas and Ferb in this mess. No matter how much my broken emotions bother them, I refuse to answer the questions neither of them are voicing. I only shake my head and fall into their arms.

Chapter Text

Perry

After indulging in a few moments of weeping quietly in my boys' arms last night, I informed them of my father's passing. I didn't tell them how it happened. I just let them hold me again and assume that was the reason the phone call upset me so much.

I said I wouldn't lie to my boys anymore, but some things are just too dangerous.

They insisted on sleeping on either side of me like they did the other night, and I was content with this until I realized my restlessness was keeping them up. I attempted to sleep in my pet bed after that, but it didn't work, so I said, "Screw it," and went to my lair to do some cleaning I've been putting off.

Now here I am at HQ, sitting between Peter the Panda and Ivy the Puff Adder in the conference room instead of eating lunch. Which means that I'm tired and hungry, and that is doing nothing for my mood.

Chatter echoes through the room as we wait for Major Monogram to arrive. He isn't late; the rest of us are early. Pinky's email went out just as he'd told me it would, and it seems to be all anyone is talking about.

I stifle another yawn. Peter notices and asks with masked amusement, "Long night?"

"Just didn't sleep well."

Peter makes an affirming sound before leaning on the arm of his chair and lowering his voice. "How have you been since, you know, your dad?"

The question comes from a kind place, so I allow it. "Alright. That email isn't helping, though." For a number of reasons.

Peter sucks in air between his teeth. "Yeah, that's…that's freaky stuff. But, there's no way it's real."

Play it cool, Perry. "I'm not saying I believe it. It's just that the idea of it is, quite frankly, pissing me off."

"I know what you mean," Peter says. "Sending out fake news is one thing, but this is just disturbing!"

On my other side, Ivy joins the conversation. "What if it is true though? What if we all have…corpses in us?" Her shades-of-brown patched four-foot-and-change body coils tighter in horror.

I suppress a shiver and roll my eyes. "Please. Reusing corpses to power other animals? That sounds like the plot of a horror/sci-fi movie. Whoever sent out those files and images is obviously just trying to freak us out."

"You think so?" Ivy asks hopefully.

"Absolutely," I say with a conviction I don't feel. "This is just some wackjob's idea of a prank. Or, one of our enemies trying to divide us. Something like that."

Ivy doesn't quite relax, but she isn't coiled as tightly either. I honestly feel bad about giving her false hope. She's the newest agent in Monogram's division though not new enough to have any of my father's body parts in her, and one of the first things she did was introduce herself to me as a fellow venomous species. She clearly knew my reputation, as the end of her tail had been quivering as she held it out for me to shake, but I respected her boldness and made an effort to be welcoming.

"I just can't shake the thought, though," Ivy confesses. She eyes her long, thick body with a shudder. "There's so much of…me to play with."

I'm so much smaller, yet I have pieces of four different animals that shouldn't be there shoved inside of me. And, unlike the rest of the O.W.C.A.'s agents, I've been intelligent and anthropomorphic since I was born.

It suddenly dawns on me that I might be the least mutated agent in OWCA.

"It is a scary thought," I say with faux calmness. "But, I wouldn't put too much stock in it."

Belatedly, I wonder how Pinky is doing. Admiral Acronym's division had their meeting first. Then Commander Conjunction's. Now Major Monogram's, and I am purposely not looking in Frieda's direction; I suspect that she isn't looking in mine either.

We all fall silent when Major Monogram steps into the room with Carl not far behind.

For the first time, I wonder how much Major Monogram knows about the genetic modification process. How much any of the division leaders know about it. They can't be totally in the dark, can they?

Carl moves to stand in the corner of the room while Monogram addresses the rest of us. "Greetings, agents. I'm sure you all know why you're here." This starts up another round of murmuring, which our superior silences by holding out his hands. "Settle down. Settle down." Once the tense peace returns, Monogram puts his hands behind his back and continues to reveal none of what's on his mind. "For those of you who haven't checked your email recently, someone has sent out documents and imagery that they claim are actual files on OWCA's genetic modification process."

There's a reason Francis Monogram is the leader of an entire division of hyper-intelligent animals, and moments like this are a reminder of that. He is calm, collected, and utterly stoic despite the gruesome nature of the topic at hand, a topic he may or may not know is based on fact, not fiction. He is also a kind man with a goofy side that amuses me as often as it makes me roll my eyes. But, make no mistake; Francis Monogram is a formidable leader.

Despite recent events, I find that I still respect him, I probably always will, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Monogram goes on. "I want to assure you all that the contents of that email are one hundred percent fabricated. If anything, it's an elaborate prank. We have yet to discover who sent it out, but we will not rest until the prankster is found. At this point, we have no reason to suspect that it was an agent, so you can all rest easy knowing that-"

At this point, Carl rushes to Monogram's side and stands on his toes to whisper in our superior's ear. Carl's cellphone is clutched tightly in his hand, and he looks a little green around the gills. Carl shows Monogram something on his phone, and whatever it is makes Monogram turn a similar color.

One by one, we all start pulling out our phones, including me. There's a new email from a different address than the one Pinky used. The sounds of shocked gasps and nervous mutterings tell me that it wouldn't be rude if I opened an email in the middle of a meeting.

A single sentence is the first thing I see, and it's enough to pique my interest.

This isn't a prank.

Below that are two attachments. I tap one and…

…watch for about ten seconds longer than last time before turning it off. I make the mistake of checking the other attachment.

Then I delete the email. Delete the video of my latest biannual "physical." Delete the sight of myself being cut open, probed, unconscious and unaware and nonconsenting. Delete the voices of the scientists analyzing my biological structure so coldly, as though speaking about a husk and not a living thing with feelings and opinions and loved ones. Delete the documentation of my unusual birth and how my bodily functions compare to those who were born as mindless animals.

Distantly, I hear Ivy ask me, "Did you know about this?"

On my other side, Peter says to her, "Does he look like he knew?"

Whatever my face looks like, there is no way it can make anyone suspicious of the fact that I did know about this. The shock and horror and betrayal I'm feeling is unmistakably real but not directed at what everyone is assuming it is.

Pinky Garcia-Shapiro, what were you thinking?

I hear Major Monogram over the pounding in my chest and blood roaring in my ears. "Quiet down, everyone. And, stop staring at Agent P."

"What?" I blurt out before feeling ridiculous because of course everyone was staring at me. How could they not?

Monogram loudly clears his throat. The cracks in his stoic armor are long and obvious, but he presses on like the professional he is. Carl retreats to his corner and looks like he's trying not to throw up. "It would seem there's been a…development," Monogram starts. "We'll-we'll look into this. I'm sure it's just as fabricated as the other ones. I mean, what possible reason could they have for…"

Our terrified eyes meet briefly before he turns away. Yet again, I wonder how much he truly knows about all of this.

"That's a good question," Sergei the Snail says. "Why would they do that to Perry?"

Joanne the Bluejay adds, "He's always out of commission when he gets those biannual physicals. I've always wondered why."

"Then, why didn't you ask him?" Herman the Hedgehog snaps.

Joanne ruffles her feathers indignantly. "His medical history isn't any of my business."

Peter holds up his phone in outrage. "Well, someone is making it our business!"

"Perry," Ivy hisses, "what's this about? There's-there's a simple explanation, right?"

"No," I chitter breathlessly. All eyes are on me again. I close my eyes like I'm composing myself. I am doing that, but I'm also coming up with a response that won't reveal anything. When I have one, I address the crowd and allow my fear to show because they can't question it right now. "I don't know what this is. I knew my medical checks were different because of my origin, but…but I don't know what this is!" My voice cracks at the end. Again, no one can question it.

My proclamation results in more panicked chatter, and this time Major Monogram isn't able to get everyone quiet. It takes Frieda slamming her wings on the table and screaming, "SHUT UP!" at the top of her lungs to make everyone, well, shut up. She then gestures to Major Monogram, silently asking him to speak.

Which he does after a moment. "Uh, thank you, Agent F. Agents, I have no idea what any of you were saying just now, but I think this is a good time to adjourn the meeting. Like I said, we'll get to the bottom of this. I'm sure the latest…stuff is as fake as the rest. You are all free to return to your posts while…while I make some calls."

Nobody stops me from barreling past them, though I have to pretend they aren't all gawking at me in horror and/or pity.

"Agent P."

Major Monogram's voice stops me from bursting through the doors to a section of the building that isn't choking me. He waves for me to join him off to the side. I reluctantly walk over to him. Once the room is mostly empty, he crouches down to my level.

"Carl showed me a little bit of…that." Monogram shudders before the walls come back up. "But, I hope you'll take it with a grain of salt. I've worked with these doctors for as long as I've been a major, and they would never do anything like that without the patient's consent."

Oh? Did all those deceased agents consent to having their body parts removed? Did the animals OWCA rescues consent to having pieces of corpses shoved inside of them?

I make damn sure to keep my face straight.

Monogram stands up. "I'm sure there are gonna be a lot of rumors swirling around, but I know you'll be a professional and not let them get to your head."

Too late for that.

I manage to get out of headquarters with my sanity intact. Now I am driving Ramona through the skies because I'd gotten a text from a certain chihuahua.

Can we talk? Same place as before?

Sure, Pinky. We can talk. Assuming you're still capable of speaking after I've finished strangling you.

"Perry! Perry, wait up! I can't fly as fast as Ramona!"

For Frieda, I am willing to put my plans for murder on hold for a few minutes. I halt Ramona's flight and spin her around to face Frieda, who sends a slight breeze my way with each flap of her large pink wings.

"Did you know he was going to do this?" I demand.

Frieda shakes her head. "No. If I did, I would've stopped him."

That takes some of the wind out of my sails. "I'm on my way to meet with him and discuss this. Don't follow me."

Frieda clenches her beak but doesn't argue.

I spend the whole drive stewing in rage and humiliation. By the time I reach the old abandoned Old Abandoned Amusement Park, I am itching for a brawl.

Pinky's pink and purple hovercar is parked in the same spot as last time, though he is sitting in the driver's seat. I park next to him, and he leaps out of his vehicle and runs around mine to meet me as I'm slamming the door. (Sorry, Ramona.)

"Perry, I'm so sorry-"

I cut him off with, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip your fur out and feed it to you!"

Pinky groans and slumps over. "There isn't one. Perry, I know I said I was okay with people thinking those videos and documents were fake, and I thought I would be! But, when Admiral Acronym was going on about how it was all a prank… I-I just got so angry! And, some agents thought it could be real, but so many others were agreeing that it was nonsense-"

"So, you decided to show them something they couldn't easily disprove? Pinky, do you know how humiliated I am? The kind of position you put me in? You could have at least warned me!"

Sometimes I really hate having a heart, because the tears in Pinky's eyes are making it bleed. "I wasn't thinking. I never wanted to hurt you!"

"Well, you did. You fucking did!"

I turn and gear up for a kick before I realize I'm aiming at Ramona. Then I walk around her and twist my foot to activate the titanium spur on my right ankle before kicking Pinky's hovercar as hard as I can and retracting my spur. The pain in my foot is atrocious and causes me to limp back to Pinky's side, but the dent and the tiny hole in his hovercar's exterior is worth it.

"If I didn't love you so much," I snap, "I would've jammed my spurs in you."

"And, I would have deserved it," Pinky says miserably. "Perry, the moment I sent that out, I realized what I'd done, and I felt awful!"

I growl under my breath and toss my hands at my sides. "Well, you can't unsend it." A bitter laugh escapes me as I shake my head. "The worst part is that I get why you did it. People do need to know about this. And, as agents, sometimes we have to make spur of the moment decisions that not everyone likes. From a field agent standpoint, I completely understand. But, from a person standpoint, I'm furious and I hope Prof. Poofenplotz puts a rhinestone-studded collar on you and carries you around in her purse!"

Pinky knocks his fingers together and looks up at me from beneath the brim of his fedora. "She actually has done that before. Not both at once, but there have been a few traps inspired by collars and purses."

I don't know if it's the stress or if I've finally cracked, but suddenly I'm laughing so hard that I have to keep one hand on Ramona for balance. Pinky starts giggling, and that quickly transitions into him in the same position as me, laughing like an idiot while balanced on my hovercar.

"I'm still mad at you!" I say through my laughter.

"You should be!" Pinky giggles back.

Once our laughter dies off, I stand upright and say, "Thanks for the reprieve, but I genuinely have never been this angry with you before. I'll get over it, but I'm going to hold this against you for quite some time."

All traces of laughter are gone from the friend I currently can't stand. "I don't blame you. I should have gotten your permission before sending that out."

"Yeah, you should have. But, you didn't."

With that, I climb back into Ramona and start her up. Pinky keeps his eyes on the grass beneath his feet.

"Pinky," I say, drawing his big sad eyes toward me. "I love you, okay? And, no matter how angry I am, my offer still stands. You come to me if you need an out. I'll make it happen. And, I'll do what I can for your family."

"Thank you," he says thickly. "I love you, too. Even if my...recent actions make you think otherwise."

That draws a traitorous smile out of me, so I counter it by saying, "I still want you to be Poofenplotz's purse dog."

After that wreck of an afternoon, I come home to what would be a pretty bizarre sight if I lived with any other human family. There is a small but elaborate stage in the center of the background, decorated with balloons and steamers and what I believe is the Jamaican flag. The band appears to be made up of sentient plants playing instruments and using their roots as legs. (Is that Planty the Potted Plant on bass? I wondered what happened to him after he left OWCA.) No music is playing. The band is either setting up or taking a break. The kids are all chatting excitedly about one of the songs, suggesting the latter.

Phineas sees my seemingly mindless persona coming from around the corner and runs up to me. "Oh, there you are, Perry. You're home early." He holds out his hands toward the stage. "Check it out! We genetically modified plants to have sentience, and they formed a reggae band!"

How did my life get to the point where that is not a strange sentence to me?

"You wanna join in the fun?" Phineas crouches down and whispers, "Are you able to?"

After the day I've had, I could use some mindless fun with the kids. No one is looking, so I smile and nod.

"Great!"

Phineas picks me up, and I return to the guise of an average domestic pet as he carries me back to the group.

Among the sentient plants is a venus flytrap who can apparently talk. In a Jamaican accent. Makes about as much sense as anything else in my life, I suppose. "Alright, children," the flytrap says, prompting the kids to gather around the stage. "Poppa Flytrap hopes you had a nice break, because the band and Poppa Flytrap are going to teach you a new dance!"

I can already tell this is going to be exactly what I need. No drama. No tension. No betrayal. Just wholesome nonsense with my boys and their friends.

Phineas sets me down in front of the stage. "Can Perry participate? He can't dance like the rest of us, but we'd still like him to be included."

"Of course!" the Poppa Flytrap says. "Poppa Flytrap welcomes all in his dances! And, he has the perfect role for your beaver."

"Platypus."

"For your platypus! Now for this dance, I want all of you in a single file line along the stage. Yes. Perfect. Perry, you will be on that end, next to Baljeet."

Rapid footsteps crunch the grass, and two small hands lift me up as Baljeet says eagerly, "You are with me, Perry!"

He sets me down next to him at the end of the line, and the music starts up.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Poppa Flytrap says, swaying to the beat. "Now pay attention, and I will teach you how. To do. The chlorophyll!"

"The chlorophyll," it turns out, is an educational number about the life cycle of the average plant. We are instructed to "hide in the ground like a little seed" and "spread out your roots deep down below" and things of that nature. (No pun intended.) Each step in the cycle has a corresponding dance move, and the chorus seems to be freestyle, simply being "Oh, oh! Do-do the chlorophyll!" sung three times and ending with another shout of "Oh!"

This is absolutely ridiculous, and I would give anything to do the dance alongside the kids! But, this is a rare opportunity to join in on one of the boys' projects, so I'll take what I can get.

"Alright, Baljeet," Poppa Flytrap calls out. "For this next part, I need you to pick up Perry."

Baljeet does so, cradling me in his arms, unaware of the burst of excitement rushing through me. Lay it on me, Poppa Flytrap! I'm ready to participate!

Poppa Flytrap moves his leaves (arms, I guess) to the side. "Now I want you to pass him down the line to the beat of the music, and when he reaches the end, you all will pass him back down. Keep doing this until Poppa Flytrap tells you to stop."

We do a practice round, with me starting in Baljeet's arms then being passed to Buford then Isabella then Phineas then Ferb. Once I'm passed back down the line to Baljeet and Poppa Flytrap is satisfied that we know what to do for the next verse, the venus flytrap resumes singing.

"🎵Now here comes the honeybee on a sunny day! Spreading the pollen every which way!🎵"

Once the second verse is finished, I am returned to my spot sitting next to Baljeet, where I continue trying not to bob my head or shoulders to the beat. I'm not into reggae, but how can I not enjoy myself when I'm with Phineas and Ferb and their friends and I actually get to do something with them?

This is exactly what I needed.

The song ends with "🎵Now you're doing the chlorophyll! Oh!🎵" and the kids clap and cheer while the band takes a bow.

"That was the best song yet, you guys!" Isabella praises.

Buford looks over at me in confusion. "Hey, what's with Perry?"

Oh, crap! Am I showing too much emotion? I was being so careful-

"Whoa!" Phineas says with a wide grin. "Perry only thumps his tail when he's really excited!"

Oh, I didn't realize I was doing that.

Someone's phone rings, and Poppa Flytrap pulls a cellphone out from nowhere and says, "Excuse me, children. I have to take this."

"Where did he get a cellphone?" Baljeet wonders as the venus flytrap steps away to take the call. "He has only been sentient for a few hours!"

"It's best not to think about it," Buford decides.

Ferb walks over to scratch my head in just the right spot, prompting me to press my head against his hand in thanks, and Phineas joins us and asks me, "Are you having fun, Perry?"

"You know it!" I chitter.

"How would we know if Perry was having fun?" Buford asks. "He probably doesn't even know what's going on."

Phineas grins at him. "Tail thumps don't lie! And, Perry's always loved music."

"As the old saying goes," Ferb says, "music soothes the savage beast."

In this case, the savage beast is the emotional torment I've been stuck in for the past few weeks. If the day comes when I am too far gone to be able to enjoy moments like this - be they as wacky as enjoying a reggae band made up of anthropomorphic plants or as simple as enjoying a nice head scratch - I will pay someone to shoot me.

That day is not today, a statement emphasized by the addition of Phineas bending over to scratch that spot just above the base of my tail. An added bonus of being Phineas and Ferb's pet: they know all of my favorite spots.

I'm gearing up to roll over for belly rubs when Poppa Flytrap runs off the stage and stops in front of me and the boys. "Phineas! Ferb! Poppa Flytrap has wonderful news!" The boys stop scratching me and give our new friend their full attention. "That was my agent calling. Poppa Flytrap and the Sprouts are going on a world tour!"

"But, you have only been sentient for-"

"Let him have this," Buford says to Baljeet.

"That's awesome, you guys!" Phineas says to Poppa Flytrap.

Poppa Flytrap shakes Phineas's hand and then Ferb's, saying, "Poppa Flytrap is so grateful to you boys for giving him and his friends their start." He turns around, and we follow his gaze at the sound of a truck backing up just outside of the fenced in yard. "It looks like the crew is here. We must be on our way."

He climbs back on to the stage as the truck lowers a crane that grabs the whole thing, including the band and the instruments. We all say and wave goodbye, including me, though mine is a subtle wave that is low to the ground. A risk, but far from the biggest risk I've been taking lately.

"Come see a show some time, mon!" Poppa Flytrap calls as the truck carries him and his band and equipment away.

The kids call out promises to do so, and soon the band is out of sight. I'm disappointed that they couldn't stick around for at least one more song, but I'm still buzzing with a glee I haven't felt in ages.

How many times have I watched my boys' projects play out on the cameras I installed for just that purpose and longed to join in the fun? As brief as this encounter was, I will cherish the memory of enjoying Poppa Flytrap and the Sprouts' live concert with the kids.

Moments after the band is gone, Candace bursts through the back door, dragging her mother along back the arm. Candace juts her hand out to the yard and declares, "See, Mom? Plants!"

Linda examines the empty yard with a humoring smile. "Well, grass and trees are plants, so you're not wrong."

Candace finally looks at the yard with a befuddled, "But, but, but…"

Linda lets that go, as per routine. "I brought Chinese for dinner. Buford, Baljeet, Isabella, you kids can join us if you want. There's plenty to go around."

The kids all rush inside with exclamations of gratitude, with me and my rumbling stomach - I still haven't eaten since breakfast - trailing behind. Suddenly, Candace lifts me up and hugs me to her chest with a heavy sigh.

"Sometimes I wish I was a platypus like you, Perry," she confesses. "You eat. You sleep. You stare into space. Your life is so easy."

If you only knew, Candace Flynn. If you only knew.

I wonder if this is going to be our new routine, my boys and I sitting on one of their beds - Ferb's this time - at the end of the day and talking like people. I certainly wouldn't mind if it became our new thing. It's a great way to unwind, and now that I've found the courage to tell Phineas and Ferb the truth, I wish I had done it years ago.

My boys take their time explaining their genetic modification process, which of course is nothing like OWCA's, not that I expected it to be similar. But, after learning how OWCA does it, can you blame me for being leery? But, my boys' version, predictably, is very different from OWCA's. Phineas and Ferb use gene splicing and DNA reconstruction and a bunch of words I can't pronounce. They don't add someone else's parts to the subject; they use what's already in the subject. Their entire explanation makes my head spin, but the knowledge of how they genetically modify things comforts me as much as it upsets me.

Phineas and Ferb don't need to desecrate corpses. Why does OWCA have to do it?

No. No. We are ending this day on a high note.

"Did you like the band, Perry?" Phineas asks.

I grin and nod. That chlorophyll song is stuck in my head, but it's worth it.

"That's good," Phineas says. "Ferb and I weren't sure if you really liked them or if you were just being polite. We don't know what kind of music you like or…or anything about you, come to think of it. We should make a Q and A sheet for you so we know about your likes and dislikes."

Ferb leans over and rifles through the drawer of his nightstand. He pulls out a bound stack of papers that's about an inch thick with pages that appear to be double-sided.

"Two steps ahead of me as always, Ferb!" Phineas praises.

Ferb hands me the typed-up-in-Comic-Sans questionnaire, and I skim the pages. Clearly, the boys are hoping to make up for lost time. Some questions are about simple things like my favorite color or movie or music artist. Others are more personal, such as my early life with my parents and which of my old injuries came with cover stories and the actual cause of the ones that did.

I'll happily fill out the questionnaire, but something tells me I'm not going to answer everything I'm being asked.

"You don't have to fill that out tonight," Phineas assures. "Just do it at your leisure. No rush."

I nod and stow the questionnaire in hammerspace.

Ferb nudges Phineas, who is now scratching his ear and looking anywhere else until he says, "So, um, speaking of personal stuff, are you doing okay? With your dad, I mean."

Can I end any day on a high note anymore? I shrug and let my grief show even though that's become one small problem in a sea of much larger problems. How much of his body did the scientists take?

The boys draw their own conclusions from my non-response. "I guess these things don't get better overnight," Phineas says. "I'm glad we could at least put a smile on your face today."

That puts another smile on my face now.

"What about your mom?" Phineas asks. "How is she doing?"

I checked on Mom before I came home today. She's getting better every day, though she isn't quite her old chipper self yet. I hold out my hand flat and wiggle it.

"Is there anything we can do for her?"

Phineas's innocent question and Ferb's sad yet anticipatory stare wedge a lump in my throat. I shake my head but smile at them so they know how much I appreciate the offer.

We go quiet for a moment before Phineas lays back on the pillow and stares at the ceiling. "You know, hearing about your dad got me thinking about my dad. Not our dad. My dad. My first dad."

His biological father. I haven't heard much about him nor Ferb's biological mother. The little bit I know comes from their surviving parents. Linda cuddled with and vented to me about her first husband on the anniversary of the man's death. Lawrence told me about his first wife on the way to a charity pet show meant to raise money for cancer research.

Phineas props himself up on his elbows with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I shouldn't-"

I cut him off with an invitational twirl of my wrist. He can tell me. I don't just let everyone ramble to me because I'm the family pet. I want to listen, especially to topics as important as this.

Phineas accepts the invitation by lying down again and speaking to the ceiling. "He was a trucker, and I guess there was an accident. I never got to meet him though, 'cause Mom was still pregnant with me at the time. Candace remembers him a little but only vaguely."

My heart breaks at Phineas's…not a lack of emotion, but something so deep that it can be misconstrued as such.

Ferb lies down beside him with a similar not-lack of emotion. "I vaguely remember my birth mother. She died of breast cancer when I was two years old. My earliest memories are of visiting her in the hospital."

My heart breaks even more, splitting straight down the middle as I crawl between my boys and flip over on to my back. They press themselves against me.

"Do you have any pictures of your dad, Perry?" Phineas asks me.

I pull out my personal cell and scroll through until I find one. The sight of my father alive and well leaves a deep ache in me, but I smile at the image before holding it out for my boys to see. It's a picture from the time Prof. Applebottom's scheme took place at John P. Trystate Elementary, where Phineas and Ferb were acting as stage crew for the school play, though they kept the special effects low-key at the principal's insistence. I was there in disguise to be supportive, and long story short, Dad insisted I take a picture of the aftermath to show Mom how our team-up went. The image is a selfie with me, sans disguise, holding my phone and grinning toothily at the camera while pointing my thumb over my shoulder. Behind me, Applebottom is scowling at the camera and is covered in glitter glue and has a large bruise on her chin, the bruise being courtesy of my father. She is tied up in colorful streamers, and Dad is holding a loose end and sending the camera a smug closed-billed grin and a thumbs-up.

I zoom in on my father, and my boys shift closer to me for a better look.

"You look a lot like him, Perry," Phineas comments. "I'm guessing your fur comes from your mom."

This prompts me to keep scrolling until I find a picture of Mom. It's one Dad took because "you guys just look so cute!" He didn't realize until afterwards that he was using my phone, but it's a nice picture so I don't mind. Dad and I had brought Mom to Lake Nose after zoo hours, and Mom and I were coming out of the lake after a swimming race. (I won, for those who are curious.) We are half in and half out of the water, and I am smiling at Mom right as she appears beside me, her eyes in a rare position of total focus and locked on me with a small proud smile.

Next thing I know, Phineas and Ferb are digging around in the closet and pulling out pictures of their late biological parents, showing me where Phineas gets his triangular head and where Ferb gets his green hair from.

Despite the painful direction our conversation took, I feel that this day is ending on a high note after all.

Chapter Text

Heinz

I haven't been this excited in weeks! Finally, I will be able to have a two-way conversation with Perry the Platypus without needing to decipher his hand gestures or waiting for him to write things down!

The device started out as a small megaphone, but after spending a few days toying with it, it's finally ready for a test run. This "megaphone" has a much boxier base where most of the mechanical installations and wiring are hidden, but I added a plush-grip handle on the bottom for convenience. I also painted the base and handle teal and the speaker orange to keep up with the theme.

Behold! The platypus-translator-inator!

…It just occurred to me that you can't behold it because this is a written fanfiction and the author can't draw to save her life. But, you can behold it in your mind!

Frankly, I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner. Communication is vital in any relationship, and that is especially true for one as complex as mine with Perry the Platypus. Granted, he never needed vocalizations to properly communicate with me - even when he isn't gesturing or writing, he has a very expressive face when he isn't using that poker face of his - but I would still like to vocalize with him.

With all the drama that's been surrounding him lately, it's more important than ever that I know what's going through his head. Even someone as strong as Perry the Platypus can only take so much.

Before I try this bad boy out on my nemesis, there's another platypus I want to have a chat with.

I wait until a visiting family leaves before approaching the Danville Zoo's platypus habitat but pause when I notice that now two sections of the sign are covered up. Does that mean Perry the Platypus's mother is the only platypus in the zoo now?

Are all platypuses named Brutus dying? For Junie the Platypus's sake, I hope this Brutus just got transferred to another zoo. Even though this Brutus was incredibly rude, it would surely bring up all sorts of things if he had up and died on poor Junie so soon after her husband of the same name.

Junie the Platypus is laying on her stomach on a rock next to the artificial river. She looks like she's falling asleep. I hope she doesn't mind if I keep her from her midday nap.

I turn on the platypus-translator-inator and speak into the microphone I installed. As I speak in English from this end, platypus noises project from the cone-like speaker. "Testing. Testing."

Junie the Platypus shoots into a sitting position, and my pulse pounds with excitement.

"Hello? Junie the Platypus? Can you understand me?"

When a platypus speaks, their chittering passes through the speaker and comes out in the form of English words and a synthesized voice meant to mimic what they would sound like if they were a human.

When Junie the Platypus speaks, I have proof that it works! Her voice is more childlike than I expected, but it suits her. "Oh, yes! How are you doing that? The keepers never know what I'm saying, and I never know what they're saying!"

I'm talking to her! I'm talking to Perry the Platypus's mother! This is fabulous! But, if I let my excitement take over, I'll risk embarrassing myself.

That thought sends a ripple of belated anxiety through me. This isn't my first meeting with Perry the Platypus's mother, but this is my first proper meeting with her. I need to make it count.

Focus on your invention, Heinz. Your inventions are where you are most confident.

Even with Junie the Platypus's seemingly unfocused eyes on me…

"You see, Junie the Platypus," I say steadily, "we are able to communicate with one another through use of my latest invention." I gesture to it with a flourish of my free hand. "The platypus-translator-inator! As you can hear, when I speak into one end, what I'm saying comes out as platypus words. And, when you speak from the other end-"

"It comes out as human words?"

I snap my fingers. "Bingo! That means we can talk to one another!"

Junie the Platypus leaps to all fours and thumps her tail with glee. "How fun! I've never had a conversation with a human before! Let's start with names. You know mine, but what's yours?"

She…doesn't know my name? Maybe she doesn't recognize me because I wasn't wearing my lab coat at the funeral. Based on what I've seen, ordinary platypuses - no offense to Junie - aren't that bright.

I press my free hand to my chest and remind her that, "I-it's me, Heinz Doofenshmirtz."

Junie the Platypus tilts her head. "Heinz Doofelsneeze?"

"No. Doofenshmirtz."

"Doolyshoes?"

"...Eh, you can just call me Heinz. It's so nice to finally get to talk to you! How have you been?" I rub the back of my neck and hope I'm not overstepping when I add, "Since the funeral, I mean. Have you been doing okay?"

Junie the Platypus tilts her head the other way. "That depends. What's a funeral?"

Did she really ask me that, or is my inator not working as well as I thought? "The-the funeral. You know, that ceremony we went to to honor your husband's sacrifice of…of himself."

Junie the Platypus takes a few steps closer, perching right on the edge of the rock, and squints at me. "Husband?"

"Okay, your mate or whatever animals call their significant others. It's just that your son hasn't mentioned anything about you since then, and I wanted to-"

I'm stunned to hear Junie the Platypus giggling over this. "I think you have me confused with another platypus. I don't have a son. Or, a mate."

But…I was certain…

No, I definitely recognize her! How many light teal platypuses named Junie can there be? And, Perry the Platypus told me that his mother was the female platypus from the Danville Zoo. Which is where I am.

My platypus-tranlator-inator must need fine tuning. Yeah, that must be it.

I ignore the sensation in my gut in favor of trying to save this. "Oh, uh, my bad. We can still talk though. I really would like to get to know you better."

So, we chat until I can no longer ignore the nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me that something is inconceivably wrong.

Perry

It's never good when your superior wants a word with you in private.

It's worse when your superior wants a word with you in private while you've been going behind his back and looking at classified files, sharing those files with three other agents, and knowingly letting a rogue agent walk around freely.

It's even worse than that when that private meeting occurs mere days after you've told two members of your host family the truth about who you are.

I am completely, irreparably fucked.

But, I don't let my fear show as I enter my lair and find Major Monogram standing in the middle of the room. Unlike me, he isn't projecting a casual air of What's this about, boss? He is picking at a button on his army green jacket and has the face of a man who hates the task he's about to perform. Red flag number one.

I approach him with a hearty salute I don't feel, and he clears his throat. "Hello, Agent P. I suppose you're wondering why I've called you here."

Please don't let it be for any of the reasons I think! Don't tell me you know I've read and shared those files! Don't send me after Pinky! And, for the love of all that is holy, don't reassign me to another family!

I work hard to keep my face and my posture impassive. I am an expert at reconnaissance, and I will reveal nothing. Nothing.

There isn't a trace of disappointment or hostility coming from Monogram, but I remain on guard.

"We, uh…" Monogram fiddles with another of his jacket buttons. "We need to talk about your mother."

My heart stops beating. A small gasp breaches my defenses as a thousand scenarios-

"She's fine! She's alive and well!" Monogram rubs the back of his neck and mutters sheepishly, "I probably should've led with that."

I give him the coldest stare possible, and it makes him exactly as uncomfortable as I intended.

He coughs into his fist and drops to one knee, regaining the level of nervousness he started with. Actually, no. He seems…sad? "Listen, Perry." Perry. Not Agent P. Perry. Red flag number two. "I need to make it clear that I had nothing to do with this decision. In fact, I only just found out the decision had been made! If I'd known sooner, I swear to you that I would have done everything I could to stop them!"

I don't know where this is going, but I loathe it all the same.

I feel my stoic façade slowly breaking down as Monogram rests a hand on my back. Red flag number three. "Perry, it-it seems the higher-ups are taking that whole prank thing pretty seriously. Which is ridiculous because it can't be anything but a prank!" He sounds like he's trying to convince himself of that more than he is me. Could he truly not know? "Either way, I'm sure you're wondering what this has to do with your mother. Well, even though she's an ordinary platypus, the higher-ups think that she's a security risk."

What? How? Yeah, she knows about the O.W.C.A., but she would never go around spilling secrets! She doesn't even leave the zoo unless someone gives her a way out!

Monogram seems to read my thoughts and holds up his hands placatingly. "I agree that this is total nonsense, but it's not up to me. Again, I wasn't even consulted! But, they feel her knowledge of OWCA combined with her civilian status would make her an easy target."

My hands are shaking so badly that it takes me a moment to pull out my phone and show Monogram a picture of Stacy Hirano wearing the fedora I gave her and flashing a toothy grin and a peace sign at the camera.

Monogram softens at the image. "I know we didn't do anything about Miss Hirano, but she has proven to us that she is both an asset to the agency and is able to defend herself. Your mom, well, she doesn't do much. They're worried that if any evildoers got their hands on her, not only could she not protect herself, but she could spill some secrets if the kidnappers found a way to communicate with her. I know, I know. It's paranoia at its finest, but that's what I've been told."

I put my phone away and press my hands to my chest before throwing a few punches at the air. Because, I'll train her. I'll train my mother to fight, to sneak around undetected. She already knows a few simple maneuvers from Dad. How hard can it be to teach her some more advanced ones? I'd have to modify some of my moves so that she can do them on all-fours, but I can make it work!

Monogram regards me with pity before shaking his head. "I'm afraid it's too late to train her. Something about those leaked files - that are definitely not real - has gotten the higher-ups spooked. They… They've decided to erase your mother's memories of the O.W.C.A.. And, of anything…and anyone associated with the agency."

Including your father, he doesn't need to say. Including you.

My knees shake. My body feels like it's made of lead. I might become the first platypus in history to throw up.

"It's already been done. I'm sorry, Perry. I wish I'd known about this ahead of time-" His phone rings, and he gives me an apologetic look before glaring at his phone and answering. "What is it, Carl? … No, I didn't forget this time! I just got done telling him. … He's, uh, taking it as well as we thought he would. I think he's in shock. Oh! He's shaking his head. He might have entered Denial. Now he's running…toward his jetpack. Now he's putting it on. I should probably be stopping him instead of narrating everything he's doing."

It's not true. It's a misunderstanding. Major Monogram was given the wrong information. That's all it is. As soon as I get to the zoo, Mom will run up to me, and we'll have a good laugh about the mix-up.

Frieda's bright pink form is easy to spot as she flies my way, intercepting me when I'm halfway to my mother, who obviously knows who I am. I stop because there's no need to hurry because nothing about my mother has changed.

Frieda points downward with her talon and calls out, "Perry, land! I need to talk to you!"

She flies down on top of the Mr. Slushy Dawg without waiting for a response. Which is fine. I can spare some time to talk to her about something other than my mother. It's fine.

Everything is fine.

I set my jetpack beside me on the roof, and Frieda doesn't waste any time squawking, "Something weird just happened, and I don't know what to make of it."

See? This has nothing to do with Mom! "Define 'weird,' Frieda. Yesterday, Phineas and Ferb gave plants sentience, and those plants are now touring the world as a reggae band."

"Fair enough," says the flamingo who I once saw hitch a ride on the giant floating baby head. Danville is a strange city. "Doofenshmirtz was at the zoo again, and this time he brought what he referred to as a 'platypus-translator-inator.'"

I tilt my brow at her. "I'm sorry. Did you say platypus-translator-inator? Does that do what it sounds like it does? If so, I'm surprised he hasn't tried that sooner."

Frieda ruffles her feathers. "It seemed to be working well. He was having a whole conversation with your mom. But, here's the thing. Your mom was acting…odd."

This has nothing to do with what Major Monogram told me. I defy you, knotted sensation in the pit of my stomach! "Odd, how?"

"She was talking like she didn't know who Doofenshmirtz was, and she kept getting his name wrong- Actually, that's nothing new. But, she should have recognized him from the funeral if nothing else."

"They've decided to erase your mother's memories of the O.W.C.A.."

"But, here's the part that freaked me out."

"And, of anything…"

"Your mom was saying that she never had a mate or a son. And, she sounded like she meant it!"

"...and anyone associated with the agency."

"When I asked her about it, she acted like she didn't know me either! My theory is that it had something to do with that inator. Like, maybe the frequency was scrambling her brain or something. Doofenshmirtz seemed pretty put off by it too, so if my theory is correct, I don't think it was an intentional side effect- Uh, Perry, are you okay? 'Cause you kind of look like you're gonna pass out."

I don't recognize my own voice as I tell Frieda what Major Monogram told me about my mother. About how the higher-ups had her memory erased of OWCA, of Dad, of Frieda…of me.

Frieda's long black-tipped beak is wide open. She appears frozen in that position. Then she shakes it off and stammers, "They… They… They wouldn't. She's not a threat! To anybody, much less OWCA! She can't even figure out how cardboard boxes work!"

A random hysterical thought has me wondering who is going to get Mom out of the Enrichment Box now that Dad is gone. "I need to talk to her."

Frieda winces. "Perry, I don't think that's a good idea."

A quiet broken giggle bubbles out of me. "In case you haven't noticed, Frieda, I've been having a lot of bad ideas lately. What's one more?"

"Perry, please," Frieda begs. She pins me in place with her wings the second I strap on my jetpack. I don't look at her as she squawks, "If what you're saying is true, this isn't going to do you any favors!"

But, maybe if Mom sees me, her only surviving child, her "miracle baby" as she puts it, then the memories will flood back to her.

There is a strong chance I only think that because I've reached Bargaining.

Frieda squawks in surprise and releases me once I activate my jetpack and blast myself into the air, heading straight for the Danville Zoo. I ignore her call for me to come back and wait until no one's looking to descend into Mom's habitat. I stash my jetpack and fedora in a bush and crawl out on all-fours.

The Enrichment Box is moving in circles seemingly on its own. Cries of "Help me! Help! I can't see!" can be heard from under the cardboard.

It's such a familiar and achingly normal sight that a knot wedges itself into my throat. I rush over and grab a flap on the box with my bill as Mom passes. I throw my head back and knock the box on to its side. Mom skids to a halt, squinting and blinking as her blue eyes adjust to the harsh summer sunlight.

I hold my breath as she swivels her body toward me. Please know me, Mom.

"Did you save me?" she asks.

No sign of recognition. "That was me," I say steadily.

There's a spring in her step as she trots closer to me. "Thank you so much! That box is so confusing."

Why won't she nuzzle me or jump on me so I can lift her up in a hug? "Well, uh, human stuff, you know?"

Mom sizes me up with a curious quirk of her bill. "I didn't know the keepers were bringing me a new friend! If I had known, I would've had a nice hole ready for you!"

A gunshot straight through my chest, leaving a bullet-sized hole that you can look through for a clear image of what's behind me. That's the sensation her words leave me with.

Iron will. Nerves of steel. Heart of glass. "A-actually, I just happened to be passing by and thought I'd give you a hand." I cough into my fist. "I-I, um, I should get going." I start to turn around-

"Wait!"

-and spin back around with hope flaring in my chest.

A flame that is extinguished when my own mother says to me, "I forgot to ask you your name. Mine's Junie."

I swallow thickly and don't let my voice shake. "I'm Perry." You should know that, Mom. "I'll see you around…Junie."

"Okay. Bye, Perry! Thanks again for your help!"

"Yeah, uh," I stammer to her retreating form, "no problem."

I sprint back to the bushes to claim my fedora and jetpack before blasting myself into the sky. I fly blindly over the city, not caring where I'm going or who sees.

My mother doesn't know who I am.

She doesn't know who her late husband is.

She doesn't know who that flamingo that lives in the habitat next to hers is.

OWCA erased her memory. They erased my mother.

My feet collide with something, sending me spinning out of orbit and landing on a hard surface with my jetpack crushing my spine. Pained speckles decorate my vision when I open my eyes to see how badly my emotional state has screwed me over.

Luck has spared me, however, as I quickly recognize Heinz Doofenshmirtz's balcony, as well as the man himself. He is standing next to a large inator and is gawking at me with both hands death-gripping the railing behind him.

Once he recovers from the shock, he relaxes his stance and says, "Perry the Platypus, are you okay?"

I'm not okay, Heinz. I am absolutely not okay. The organization I spent my whole life admiring and taking pride in is recycling the bodies of its own agents. My father is dead, and OWCA has probably preserved all the parts of him they felt they could still use by now. One of my closest friends has gone rogue, and I'm too much of a coward to do the same. All of my co-workers saw me being sliced open and probed. My mother doesn't know who I am.

"Man, you don't usually wipe out like that. And, you almost flew right into my bad-idea-inator! You could have accidentally fired it, and some poor sap would have had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea and felt an intense compulsion to enact it. Normally, I wouldn't mind, but I already had one misfire with this thing, and I don't want another until I officially start that scheme and you break out of your trap and start punching and kicking and tail-smacking me. See, my goal for the bad-idea-inator is to hit Roger with it and make him have an idea so terrible that everyone loses respect for him, and I can waltz in and take over. I'll tell you more when you come over to thwart that scheme, but I-I really don't want another misfire until then. I should probably move this thing off my balcony, but it's so heavy and I didn't install wheels on it. It was torture just getting it on the balcony. I'd rather not have to move it off of… Are-are you crying?"

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

I gulp down air and swipe at the tears leaking down my face. I know I'll have to tell Heinz about my mother, but I can't right now. I just can't.

So, I pick myself up off the floor and restart my jetpack, ignoring Heinz's shout of, "No, wait! Come back! Perry the Platypus!" as I launch myself into the air.

I want to stay up here in the sky forever. I want to spar with Dad no holds barred until I can't think. I want to curl up in one of Mom's holes and weep into her fur.

I want the courage to go rogue like Pinky.

Speaking of which, here comes Frieda's tall, lean pink form alongside Pinky's much smaller body and his jetpack. Frieda must have called him. I don't want to talk to them, to anybody, but it doesn't feel right to leave these two in the lurch, so I land in a secluded spot behind some building I don't care enough to identify.

Pinky lands and throws off his jetpack seconds after I've done the same. He launches himself at me and crushes me against him. He trembles harder than ever, making me tremble by proxy as he sobs into my thick neck. "I'm sorry, Perry! This-this is my fault! It's all my fault!"

In a few rushes of air, Frieda lands in front of us and says needlessly to me, "I told him about your mom."

A new wave of tears clogs my throat. I choke them down and wrap my arms more gently around our friend. "It's not your fault, Pinky. You couldn't have known."

Pinky squeezes me harder, and I let him get it out of his system while I push down the need to do the same. Frieda stands there awkwardly, alternating between looking at the sky and preening her feathers.

Eventually, Pinky sniffles and pulls back, wiping his arm over his glassy eyes. "What are we gonna do?"

"What can we do?" I counter.

"Pinky," Frieda says. "I know I said I'd keep my distance, but…" She breathes in through her nose and ruffles her feathers, her posture rigid with resolve. "I'd like a more active role in what you're doing. I wanna go rogue with you. For real. Not just as a backup."

My lungs stop working.

Pinky stops shaking as he gapes up at the flamingo in a fedora she might not be wearing for much longer. "A-are you sure, Frieda?"

Frieda nods. "If I've learned anything since this whole crazy adventure began, it's that the O.W.C.A. isn't what we thought it was. They do a lot of good, yes, but there comes a point where you have to ask if the good outweighs the bad. I was already on the brink after Brutus died, but this development with Junie was the final straw." Frieda sits down, still much taller with that long neck, but closer to eye level with me and Pinky. "Let me help you, Pinky. I can't hack, but I can sneak around, gain intel. Whatever you need. And, by the way, I'm not taking no for an answer."

Pinky's lips slowly widen into a fragile smile. "I guess I'll say yes, then. Thank you."

I hug my arms around myself because I need to hold something and this seems like the wrong time to hug one of my friends. Neither of them is looking at me, but I keep my eyes trained on the asphalt and confess, "I don't think I can do this. I know what OWCA has done, but…but it's also the only thing I've ever wanted since I was a puggle. I can't just turn my back on it. And, now that Phineas and Ferb know about me, I…I can't risk them getting involved. I'm sorry."

I force myself to look up when Frieda rests her wing on my back and says kindly, "Perry, neither of us was going to ask that of you."

"Yeah," Pinky barks. "We wouldn't have said no if you offered, but we weren't going to put you on the spot."

I hug myself tighter. "But, I feel horrible. You guys are only in this mess because I dragged you into it, and-"

"Well," Pinky says certainly, "maybe we needed dragged in. The O.W.C.A. cannot keep…reusing us! And, what if some other agent/normal animal pair has a child who survives? Do you want that kid to be put through freaky surgeries like you?"

The very thought sends an intense shiver up my spine.

Which of course Pinky sees. "I don't know if Frieda and I can change anything, but we have to at least try."

"Besides," Frieda adds, "it was Doofenshmirtz who brought this to your attention, right? Even if he hadn't told you about it, he wouldn't have ignored it. Who could ignore that, no matter their moral alignment? Something would have happened with or without you, Perry."

I suppose she's right. Still…

"I told Pinky that if his position was compromised," I say to the woman I've known since I was an egg, "then I would help him get a new identity and a new life anywhere in the world. That applies to you too, Frieda. Don't hesitate to come to me if you need to get away."

Some of the tension seems to melt off of Frieda. "Thank you, Perry."

"You know," Pinky adds, "having a solid contingency plan is pretty helpful."

A wobbly smile pulls at my bill, but it doesn't last. "I wish I could help you more. You guys are just tougher than I am."

Pinky waves off my self-loathing. "Please. You've been keeping this secret and offering us an out should we need it. You are helping us, Perry."

Why doesn't that make me feel better?

Heinz

I may not have installed wheels on my bad-idea-inator, but I did install a telescope for better accuracy and so I could see the look on my brother's face when he enacted whatever horrendous idea the inator put in his head.

That's not what I'm using the telescope for right now, though I need to be careful since the inator is aiming at whatever I'm looking at.

I scan the city, searching for a platypus in a fedora who's in the wrong kind of pain. What could have happened to upset Perry the Platypus so much? Scratch that. What could have happened this time, since bad things seem to be happening lately.

Could it have something to do with his mother's odd behavior? Unless my platypus-translator-inator was really off, something was clearly wrong with her.

There. There's Perry the Platypus. Right there behind the laundromat. I almost missed him because he's being swaddled in the arms of Pinky the Chihuahua and Frieda the Flamingo. Whatever happened, I'm glad Perry the Platypus isn't facing it alone.

Except that as soon as the group hug ends, Frieda the Flamingo takes to the skies, and Pinky the Chihuahua runs out of my telescope's range. Perry the Platypus stands there, staring at nothing. Then he plops down on his rear and puts his head in his hands. I don't think he's crying, but it's hard to tell even with his image zoomed in on through the telescope.

Poor little guy. He looks so sad and pathetic. I should text him and ask if he's okay. Actually, that would be stupid. He's clearly not okay. I'll ask him if he wants to come over and talk. Er, write.

No, wait! My platypus-translator-inator! He can come over and talk!

I whip my cellphone out of my pocket and casually lean my elbow on the bad-idea-inator-

Rrrreeeeee!

I yank my arm back when I realize that I had accidentally pressed the "on" button. Which caused the bad-idea-inator to fire. While aimed directly at Perry the Platypus.

I feel sick as I take another look through the telescope. Perry the Platypus is in the same spot, but he is now standing up. He has been facing away from me this whole time, so I can't see his expression as he contemplates-

Maybe the ray didn't hit him. Maybe it went over his head or a bird flew in the way and got hit instead. It's possible!

I should, uh… I should move this thing off my balcony.

I wish Norm was here to do this for me. My legs and back are in agony, and I can hear my titanium arms creaking as I push the bad-idea-inator into my living room. It feels like I've been doing this for hours! I'm tempted to leave it here, but now it's pointing directly at my front door, and that's just asking for trouble.

There's a knock at the door, and I leap back from the inator, almost falling over as my aching muscles sear through me. No more misfires with this thing until Perry the Platypus thwarts that scheme.

Speak of the monotreme, and he will unlock your front door and let himself in.

"Perry the Platypus," I say. "How unanticipated. And, by 'unanticipated,' I…I really mean that. Are you feeling any better after," my inator hit you, "that, uh, emotional display earlier? You-you really scared me with that one. Do you want to talk about it?"

Perry the Platypus's shoulders are hunched as he rubs his arm and looks down at various parts of the carpet.

"You actually can talk about it, you know. Like-like really talk about it. Wait here. I'll be right back."

I run to my inator storage room, where I'd been trying to drag my bad-idea-inator to, and grab a certain handheld device before running back to my living room. Perry the Platypus has moved closer to my bad-idea-inator and is eyeing it with a cautious curiosity.

After the scare with the latest misfire, the sight of him being so close to it sends alarms blaring through my head. But, I know the only button on it that Perry the Platypus would push is the self-destruct button, so I push the fear aside and hold out the inator I want him to focus on.

"Behold! The platypus-translator-inator! So, you know how you can't talk? Well, okay, you can talk, but-but not in words I know. It's all just 'diggeta-diggeta-diggeta' to me. Now, don't misunderstand me. Communication between us has never been an issue. I do it verbally. You do it nonverbally. It works for us. But, with everything going on, I-I thought it might be easier if you and I could communicate directly… I-it just occurred to me that I've been speaking through the platypus-translator-inator this whole time, which means that my voice is being translated into platypus as we speak. And, since you can understand English, to you it probably sounds like I'm speaking with a weird echo."

With wide eyes and a taut face that suggests he's still processing this, Perry the Platypus nods.

I lower the inator. "The inator was actually inspired by your mother. I realized that I'd never made a real first impression with her. Our first meeting was at the Danville Zoo, but I didn't know she was your mother, and that rude platypus distracted me with his rudeness. You seriously would have hated that guy!" Perry the Platypus looks really uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Anyway, my second meeting with your mother was at the funeral and, well, that's not exactly an ideal place for a meet-and-greet. I wanted a real meeting with her, which is why the inator works both ways. It translates English into platypus, and it translates platypus into English! Although, my talk with your mom was a little weird- I-I'll tell you about it in a minute. Why don't you give the inator a whirl?"

Perry the Platypus had been listening with one of those forced poker faces of his. Now he accepts the small megaphone-shaped inator with an appraising eye. The inator is about half his size, but he has no trouble holding it in one hand. I hold my breath as he raises the speaker to his mouth.

"Maw meh me meh moo. Topeka, Kansas. Topeka, Kansas. Okay, now I'm the one with a weird echo."

I throw my hands to the sky in glee. "Yes! This is so exciting! I actually know what you're saying!"

Perry the Platypus lets out a small, stunned laugh. "I'll admit. This is kind of cool. Although, I am curious as to why I sound like Dee Bradley Baker."

I run his comment through my head before realizing, "You know, now that you mention, you do sound a little like Dee Bradley Baker. I programmed it to synthesize a voice that would suit the platypus speaking and…" I shrug. "I guess that's what came out for you. But, as I was saying, the initial purpose was to get to know your mother, but… Well, that conversation went okay, but I'm a little worried about her. I think grief might be making her loopy."

Perry the Platypus's shoulders hunch again. He clenches his bill and grips my inator's handle tightly in both hands. "Loopy as in…forgetful?"

I point at him and shout, "Exactly! She- Oh, man. That's-that's why you were so upset, wasn't it? Look, let's not panic. Maybe we can find her a-a grief counselor or something and-"

"That won't help," Perry the Platypus chitters. The pain he showed so openly when he crash-landed on my balcony is back.

I nervously rub one hand over the other. "It-it might help. I'm sure we can find one who works with animals-"

Perry the Platypus shakes his head. "It's not that simple, Heinz."

Through the platypus-translator-inator, he tells me everything that's happened since he showed me the documentation of OWCA's corpse desecration. Pinky the Chihuahua decided to go rogue, and his first rogue act was to anonymously share those documents with everyone in the O.W.C.A.. His second was to share Perry's file and the video of him being vivisected. (At my outrage over that particular action, Perry the Platypus assures me that he already read Pinky the Chihuahua the riot act.) An unforeseen consequence came in the form of "the higher-ups" getting so nervous over the truth coming out that they deemed Junie the Platypus a "security risk" because she can't defend herself if someone tries to get information out of her. Perry the Platypus had offered to train her to fight, but by the time he'd found out about this, it had already been too late.

It wasn't grief that made Junie the Platypus act so weird. It was OWCA erasing her memories. She truly did not remember me. Nor, her late husband. Nor, her child.

It isn't easy to render me speechless, but right now I have no words. There are no words for the levels of evil this so-called good agency has going on behind the scenes. And, they'll clearly do anything to keep that evil behind the scenes.

Even erase the memories of an innocent woman who was associated with them through marriage and motherhood and nothing more.

Perry the Platypus is still pacing back and forth and ranting through the platypus-translator-inator. The floodgates have opened, and he has apparently reached the Anger stage of his grief. "Now Frieda's going rogue alongside Pinky. And…and I want to do the same, but I can't! I can't bring myself to do it! OWCA has been all I ever wanted since I was a puggle! Through them, I've met so many wonderful people, seen so many amazing things, done so much good! Yeah, lying to my family sucks, but I love this job. I take pride in the good I do. And now that Phineas and Ferb know about me…" Perry stops pacing and trails off with a sigh, pinching the brim of his bill as he pulls himself together. "Before my dad died, he told me that he wanted to investigate OWCA's genetic modification practices, but he didn't because he had Mom and me to think about. I get that. Even if my boys were still in the dark, I would get it. I've got them and Candace and Lawrence and Linda. But, Phineas and Ferb would try to help me if they knew what was going on. God only knows…" He trails off again, pinches the brim of his bill again, this time with a pained expression I may never truly understand.

I am once again struck dumb, this time by the depths of Perry the Platypus's pain. First OWCA's disturbing practices. Then his father's death. Then losing his mother even though she's still alive, which makes it even more painful when you think about it. Now it sounds like Perry the Platypus is having a serious morality crisis.

The first step toward the path of evil.

A shudder rips through me at the thought. Any other evil scientist would be thrilled right now. They would be encouraging this, persuading their nemesis to go rogue with his friends.

Underneath the surly façade, Perry the Platypus is about as pure-hearted as they come. For him to even consider going rogue, he must have truly reached his limit. Every evildoer knows that feeling, the knowledge you lock away in the back of your mind that one more push will knock you over the edge. You dig in with your nails if you're really hopeful stubborn like I was, but you can only hold on for so long…

Any other evil scientist would push their nemesis over. I am not any other evil scientist, and I know that turning evil would be a fate worse than death for Perry the Platypus.

And, he just keeps talking. "I have an idea of how I can find the courage to help Pinky and Frieda. You're gonna think I'm insane, but that's okay because I also think I'm insane."

My stomach churns when I remember that the bad-idea-inator had been pointing right at him-

Perry the Platypus steels himself, regaining his suave tough guy exterior but unable to mask the waver in his synthetically human voice. "I want you to hit me with your make-everything-evil-inator."

Yep. That is, in fact, a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea.

I finally find my voice. "No. No, I…I'm not gonna do that."

Perry the Platypus looks like he expected that answer, but he still begs, "Please! You have to! I don't know why I suddenly wanted to ask you, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I truly cannot go against OWCA without it! I'm not brave, Heinz! Everyone thinks I'm brave, but I'm not! I'm a fucking coward!"

He releases a choked breath and tosses the platypus-translator-inator on the floor. He turns away from me and presses the heels of his hands over his eyes, taking deep breaths as he struggles to hold himself together.

I have never seen my nemesis like this. Knowing him, it's more likely that he's never let himself be seen like this. My heart aches as I drop down to my knees. Perry the Platypus is on a slippery slope toward evil. I need to catch him before he slides right over the edge.

"Perry?"

His hands flops to his sides, but he doesn't respond.

"It's…i-it's my fault you want me to turn you evil."

He doesn't turn around, but his head lifts up, so I know he's listening.

"I was worried about you, and-and I'd installed a telescope on my bad-idea-inator, so I used that to look for you. I found you sitting on the ground all pathetic-like and I wanted to text you and ask what was wrong, so I…leaned on the bad-idea-inator- Just-just a casual thing. Wasn't even thinking…"

Perry the Platypus turns around to give me the most irritated stare I've ever seen from him. A look that screams, Why am I not surprised?

Shameful tears sting my eyes. "It was an accident! I didn't mean to give you a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea! It just happened! It was a misfire! Possibly the second one I've hit you with. I still don't know where that first misfire went. I-it more likely hit some random guy on the street, but-but this one really did hit you, and I'm sorry!"

Perry the Platypus closes his eyes, steeples his fingers, and inhales and exhales slowly. I choke down a sob as I wait for him to move from that position. Whatever he's planning on doing to me, I won't fight back. I deserve every punch and kick and tail-smack that is about to come my way.

Finally, my nemesis opens his eyes and chitters at me. Then he remembers the platypus-translator-inator is on the floor, and he picks it up and chitters in a way I can understand. "While I am not happy about this…I suppose I should be thanking you."

Um… "What?"

"I'm like…thirty percent certain this is the bad-idea-inator," he draws out a hard glare, "talking, but I really do want to help Pinky and Frieda. But, I don't have it in me to go rogue. I need a push like the make-everything-evil-inator."

This is not what I wanted! This is not what the bad-idea-inator was for! And, it's certainly not what the make-everything-evil-inator was for! "Perry the Platypus, do you realize how big a risk that is? You know what the make-everything-evil-inator did to Carl and Lawrence! We don't know what kind of villain you would become!"

Perry the Platypus stomps his foot and shouts, "What choice do I have!?" His voice breaks on the last syllable. I've only just noticed that he is trembling. "I'm not as strong as you, Heinz! I can't turn my back on a life of good, but I want to go rogue!"

His honesty comes through even with the synthetic human voice. Tread carefully, Heinz. "Don't you think there's a reason you can't go rogue on your own?"

"I already told you I'm a coward," Perry the Platypus chokes out, barely hanging on to the edge of evil. "Weren't you listening?"

There's a tightness in my throat as I gently pry the platypus-translator-inator out of his tiny hands and set it aside. It's my turn to talk now. "Perry, did it ever occur to you that you're just not an evil person? I-I realize that should be an insult coming from me, but it's not. You are a beacon of good. A bringer of justice. A semi-aquatic…savior. A hero who…heroes? A purveyor of-"

"Krkrkrkr."

"Sorry. I got a little sidetracked there. The point is that you're not a bad person. You can't turn your back on good because that would be like turning your back on yourself."

Perry the Platypus lowers his gaze so that I can't see his face beneath his fedora. His hands are bunched into shaking fists at his sides. I take his hands in mine, though the size difference means I'm mostly pinching his hands between my thumbs and forefingers. Regardless, he lets me.

The nerves buzzing through me are calming down now that I'm getting through to him. "Listen, Perry. I want you to go home and think about this. Really, really think about it. And, if you decide that turning evil truly is the next step for you, I'll help you ease into the lifestyle. We'll start with petty theft and go from there. But, you need to be absolutely certain, okay?"

Perry the Platypus looks up at me with broken brown eyes and nods.

I give him a gentle push toward the front door. "Now, off you go, mister. You've got some serious thinking to do."

Perry the Platypus gives me a sad yet grateful smile over his shoulder and tips his hat before heading for the exit. I stand up and let out a small relieved breath. Perry the Platypus won't turn evil. It's simply not who he is. And, I know that if anyone has the willpower to break through the bad-idea-inator's influence, it's him.

Satisfied, I return to what I was doing. "In the meantime," I grunt as I shove the bad-idea-inator centimeter by agonizing centimeter to my inator storage room, "I'll - argh - put the bad-idea-inator - ugh - in storage."

Perry the Platypus turns around and chitters at me, pointing at one spot on the floor and then another.

"I'll-I'll get it, Perry the Platypus. I've m-moved it - mmph - this far."

My nemesis shrugs before turning back to the door.

"I just gotta - ugh - get a…better grip on it."

I feel around my inator for a better holding spot. In my blind search, my hand slaps down on a button.

The thin green beam is a direct hit on Perry the Platypus. The only sound is the pounding in my chest. I'm not even sure I'm breathing.

When Perry the Platypus slowly turns around, there is a taut look on his teal face that I have no idea what to expect from. I only know that it won't be good.

I ditch the inator and run up to my nemesis. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! That was an accident! Again. Man, the bad-idea-inator is really starting to feel more like a plot-device-inator, isn't it? Either way, you need to resist the compulsion to do…whatever you are currently thinking about doing because, and I can't emphasize this enough, it is a terrible, horrible, no good- Hey, where are you going? Perry the Platypus, you get back here this instant!"

I run after him as he barrels through my living room and down the hall. I have much longer legs, but Perry the Platypus has always been faster than me, so I can't stop him from running into the room where I keep my-

No…

My legs are still aching from trying to move the bad-idea-inator, but I push through the pain and…fall flat on my face. The impact blazes through my already aching body, yet irritation trumps it all. "Really? I tripped? At the most dramatic moment possible? That is so cliché!"

But, I have no time to dwell on that because I hear an inator going off and see a flash of green light coming from the wide open door. Pure adrenaline gets me on my feet and into the inator storage room in record time.

All of my inators are intact, but I can't tell which one went off from sight alone. I currently have fourteen inators of various shapes and sizes tucked away in here for later schemes. Any of them could have been activated. I already know which one was.

My eyes lock on a small creature laying on his side in a charred spot against the wall directly across from the source of my dread. The creature's teal fur is singed, and upon first glance, it looks like the inator hit some random platypus who must have snuck in somehow. Then I see a burnt fedora lying a few feet away and put two and two together.

"Perry the Platypus!" I race to his side and kneel down to cradle him in my arms. I lightly jostle him, but he doesn't react. Panic threatens to overtake me. "Wake up! Perry, please wake up! W-what inator did you use?" As if I don't already know.

The answer comes when Perry the Platypus's eyes flutter open. Those dark brown orbs that are usually filled with kindness and determination are now shadowed. His bill slowly spreads into a grin that is nothing like the taunting smirks or friendly smiles I'm used to seeing as he rolls out of my arms. He walks over to the fedora on the floor and picks it up, eyeing it thoughtfully.

While he's distracted, I sprint back to the living room and slam my hand down on the bad-idea-inator's self-destruct button.

Chapter Text

Heinz

I stand back and feel the heat of the explosion and the loud boom resonating in my skull and the sting of shrapnel slicing open my clothes and scratching my skin as the bad-idea-inator explodes. The familiar sensations ground me, keeping me from having a panic attack.

Perry the Platypus, my stern yet kindly and selfless nemesis, shot himself with the make-everything-evil-inator.

And, it's my fault.

I should be celebrating. I should be having an evil montage - perhaps in the form of a music video like when I hung out with those supervillains from New York - with my newly villainized nemesis and treating myself to that gourmet almond brittle they sell in the fancy candy shops that Charlene gets her chocolates from.

I don't feel like eating almond brittle or having a musical montage. I feel like crying.

"Krkrkrkr?"

I swear that noise makes me jump fifteen feet in the air. I swallow hard and can't stop myself from trembling as I turn to face my… Is he still my nemesis if we're on the same side?

Perry the Platypus is wearing his fedora. He has his hands on his hips and is regarding me with a hard frown. His expression switches to one of concern when he sees my face.

I feel a warm droplet on my face and think it's a teardrop until I wipe it away and feel the sting in my cheek and see the red streak on my hand. "I'm bleeding," I say stupidly.

Perry the Platypus rolls his eyes and gestures for me to follow. He walks away without waiting for me, and I trail behind him on wobbly legs. What's he going to do? Catch me in one of the traps meant for him? Blast me with one of my inators?

…Lead me into the bathroom?

Perry the Platypus pulls the lid down on the toilet then points to it with a stern look up at me. I dutifully sit on the lid and watch him leap effortlessly on to the counter top, landing at the edge of the sink. He swings the mirror back and pulls out a small bottle of peroxide, three cotton balls, and a bandage. He sets the objects beside him and closes the medicine cabinet.

He's not going to hurt me? He's going to help me? Even though he's evil now?

"I-I can do this myself, Perry the Platypus." A firm glare from him has me hold up my hands in surrender. "Okay. Um, thank you."

He acknowledges my thanks with a nod then gets to work, starting with using one of the cotton balls to clean the cut on my cheek with soap and water. I wince and hiss at the sting of the soap and do it even more when the peroxide hits the open wound, but Perry the Platypus pays my discomfort no mind. His motions are gentle but practiced. We've patched each other up after our fights in the past - only the rare times when one of us was seriously injured, implying that my cut is as bad as it feels - but I have no doubt that he has also patched up his fellow agents on the field. I don't know the extent of his medical training, but it would have to be pretty good for the situations he gets into as a secret agent.

Then again, we've established that the O.W.C.A. doesn't care about its agents…

Regardless, there isn't anything evil about what Perry the Platypus is doing. Maybe I was wrong about which inator hit him. But, that look on his face when he woke up… Could I have imagined that?

After sticking the bandage on my cheek, Perry the Platypus mimes holding something in one hand and curls the other hand into a fist while weaving it up and down and up and down.

"Ah, man," I whine. "I just ran out of surgical thread! Now I'm gonna have to go to the doctor and sit in that waiting room where-where they make you read those magazines that are years out of date. And, I'll probably have to sit next to some sick kid who's going to sneeze all over me and make me sick, so I'll be sick on top of having fresh stitches in my face. And-and, the stitches will be in my cheek, so they'll pull in this uncomfortable way every time I speak. And, I talk all the time, so I'll probably end up popping them just by speaking too loudly, and then I'll have to go back to the doctor and start the process all over again! Ugh! Take my advice, Perry the Platypus. Don't ever run out of surgical thread."

While I was rambling, Perry the Platypus had put away the peroxide and hopped off the counter to toss the bandage backings and bloody cotton balls in the little trash bin.

"You know what I should do? I should build an inator that sends people to doctor's office waiting rooms. Now that would be evil!"

Perry the Platypus rolls his eyes with his hands on his hips and a fond smile on his bill. Maybe it really wasn't the make-everything-evil-inator that hit him. Obviously, some inator did, but I think I can finally relax, knowing that I didn't accidentally turn my nemesis evil against his will.

Suddenly, my nemesis wraps his tiny webbed fingers around my much larger non-webbed index finger and leads me out of the bathroom. He lets go of my finger once we're in the living room and gestures to the charred remains of the bad-idea-inator with both hands.

"Oh, are you wondering why I hit the self-destruct button on the bad-idea-inator?" I ask Perry the Platypus, who lowers his hands and nods. "In case you've forgotten, it was doing more harm than good. I realize that the whole point of being evil is doing more harm than good, but-but this wasn't the kind of harm I wanted it to do. I-I guess it's kind of a waste, isn't it? Ah, well. It's not like my inators have never exploded before. It's just that it's usually you doing the exploding. I basically just did your job for you." I half-heartedly shake my fist in the air and add, "Curse you, uh, me."

I take a quick glance at Perry the Platypus. He is shaking his head and smiling at my antics.

"Right," I say. "Uh, so…r-remember what I said, okay? Really give the evil thing some thought before you jump into it."

He nods in that no-nonsense way. Then he points to me and then himself and holds out his hand with a questioning look.

I bend over to shake his hand and say, "Yeah, I've got your back. Whatever you decide, I'm with you, Perry the Platypus."

He tips his hat to me with a grateful smile. I don't know which inator hit him, but he is acting too much like himself for it to have been the make-everything-evil-inator. What a relief!

Before he goes, he walks over the platypus-translator-inator and picks it up. "I have one request, though."

"What is it?"

"Depending on how we proceed, I may need to borrow some inators. If and when that happens, can you promise me they won't have self-destruct buttons?"

I shrug at him. "I don't see the point of an inator if it doesn't have a self-destruct button, but you do you."

Perry the Platypus rolls his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes. We'll reconvene once I have a plan. Pinky got the ball rolling when he sent out those files, but it's gonna take a lot more than that to take down OWCA."

With that, he hands me the platypus-translator-inator and walks out my front door. It isn't until he's gone that the implications of his words sink in.

Perry

Heinz is right. My first official act of evil needs to be carefully thought out and planned. The Organization Without a Cool Acronym is not small, and it is filled to the brim with animals who are only loyal to it because the agency saved their lives.

They don't know what's been done to their bodies.

No, I shouldn't say that. Our superiors are trying to play Pinky's emails off as some sicko's idea of a prank, but the seed has been planted in the minds of even the most firm non-believers.

I'm still not happy that those emails included my own file and the footage of me being prone and cut open on a dissection table - vivisection table, I should say - but I understand why Pinky included those. Written documentation can be easily shrugged off as fabricated. It's harder to look past such detailed footage.

My main priority, of course, is my fellow agents. What everyone knows but nobody talks about is that most of us don't choose OWCA. OWCA chooses us. The scientists bring animals back from their deathbeds in a way that leaves us anthropomorphic and essentially superhuman. Er, superanimal. We don't fit in with ordinary members of our species, nor do we fit in with humans. Where to turn for compassion and understanding besides our fellow victims of circumstance? OWCA knows this, and they use it to their benefit. Some, like Frieda, take to it once they get a taste of adventure. Others do the work because they feel like they don't have a choice. Then you have the rarities like me, Dad, and Pinky, who fall head over heels in love with the job.

I know how lucky I am. Not only do I love what I do, but I didn't have to nearly lose my life to get there. Though, I almost lost my life in the process of getting there, which brings me to my next point.

I may be aro/ace, but the majority of agents are not. Yet, their dating pool is limited to their fellow agents. Sure they can do what my father did and pursue a normal animal, but most are hesitant to do so because of the breeding issue. Not everyone wants kids, but what if that normal animal does? Because of our mutations, we can't breed with anyone who isn't also mutated. There have been enough cases of stillborns and miscarriages to put to rest any hope of getting together with someone outside of the agency.

Then, you get the brave ones like Dad who do it anyway. He told me how terrified he was when he realized that he'd fallen in love with Mom. Supposedly, she was the one to confess, and as much as he wanted to let her down easy, he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. His "fate was sealed," as he'd put it, when he explained why he wouldn't be able to give her a child, and she was okay with it.

A year later, Mom laid two eggs, and Frieda comforted Dad when he had a panic attack over it. Ten days later, against all odds, one egg hatched. Mom and Dad held out hope for the second egg until they could no longer deny that they would never meet their daughter. They coped by pouring all of their love and affection into their son. Even so, they nearly lost that son when his body, filled with his father's artificial genetics and his mother's natural ones, began to destroy itself. When their son recovered (albeit now with a body that was just as fucked with as all the other agents'), they spent every waking moment assisting with his physical therapy and tutoring him in the lessons he'd missed. (That part was mostly Dad.)

Thoughts of my parents send my lower bill quivering. I grit my teeth against a snarl or a sob and swipe my fists over my eyes before the tears can fall. My father is dead because OWCA sent him on a mission they knew he might not come back from. My mother doesn't remember me or Dad or Frieda or Pinky or Heinz or anyone she's met through OWCA because her memories were erased for arbitrary reasons.

It's normal for your parents to die before you do. What OWCA did to me is not normal.

I need vengeance. Not just for myself and my parents, but for all of the animal agents who don't know what really happened to their bodies, who could die on missions big or small, who are forced to hide themselves from their host families.

Ah, yes. Host families. My final point. Not all of us have them, but the ones who do grow to love the humans they live with. It's hard not to at least develop an affection when you live with people who care for you and pet you and play with you and share their thoughts and secrets with you. Yet, we are forced to hide under the threat of relocation.

I never knew how liberating the truth could be until I told Phineas and Ferb about me. (Granted, they learned about me during that whole mishap with the other dimension, but that was…it's own thing.)

If I were in charge of the O.W.C.A., they would still rescue animals, but they would do so very, very differently. And, the animals would be given a choice: become anthropomorphic - likely using Phineas and Ferb's method - or return to their life as a normal animal. They wouldn't even have to work for the agency, but if they wanted do so, they could be open with their host families. Or, they could not. It would be up to them.

If I were in charge, the animals would always have a choice.

That's not to say that I want to be in charge. I'm not the power-seeking type of villain. But, a man can speculate.

I am stowing away my jetpack in my lair when my wrist-com beeps. I know for a fact that Heinz isn't doing anything evil, so what could Major Monogram possibly want? Whatever it is, I need to follow his orders if I want to keep up the appearance that I'm still loyal to the agency.

I take my seat at the monitor and discover that it's not Major Monogram calling me.

"Hey, Agent P," Carl says with an awkward wave. "Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to check on you. I-I know you've been going through it lately with, you know, with your dad and then those emails and…now your mom."

The knot in my throat gets bigger, but I choke it down and smile in thanks.

This seems to boost Carl's confidence a little. "I know this out of left field, but if there's anything I do to make things easier, will you let me know?"

I give him a thumbs-up.

Carl Karl is a reminder that not every human who works with the O.W.C.A. is a bad one. Some of them are as clueless as the agents. We'll have to filter out the good ones and make sure they are well-cared for in the aftermath.

My destination was destroyed by a "Doof Moth" last month (don't ask), and the new location is, oddly enough, within walking distance of my house. It's a long walk, but it's a nice day and I could use the chance to clear my head.

Once I reach my destination, I check for witnesses before sneaking around from the side and entering the seemingly small building. I place my wrist-com up to the handle and hear the locking mechanism click, unlocking the doors. The moment I step inside, a scanner shines a wave of green light over me before a mechanical voice says, "Access granted. Welcome, Agent P."

To the unaware, this is little more than a hat shop, and while the owner does make some extra money by selling his more simplistic wares to the public - online and at fairs to avoid civilians seeing anything they shouldn't - his main job is with the O.W.C.A.. Every agent has met The Haberdasher at least twice, once to be fitted for their training fedora and once to be fitted for their official fedora. Field agents like me are here more often to have their fedoras and/or the microchips inside of them repaired or replaced. But, today I'm here for something a little more personal.

Mere moments pass before a man with a faint Scottish accent steps into the room with a spring in his step. "Agent P! The Perry the Platypus!"

The Haberdasher - he insists that we call him that - is a fair-skinned, bespectacled little person with a prominent chin and well-kept pale gray, almost white hair under an oversized bowler hat. With his duel-striped suit, cravat, signature cane with a bowler hat topper, he looks like a wealthy eccentric who stepped straight out of the Victorian era. Quirky as he is, however, fedoras with circuitry and infinite storage space aren't the only things he can make. His hats can shoot flames, turn you invisible, teleport you, throw shurikens that hit the target every time. If you require something lethal and/or stealthy, he has a hat for that.

The Haberdasher skips up to me and shakes my hand so hard that he nearly lifts me off the ground. "How lovely to see you again! Are you in the market for a new hat? Come and check out my latest creation!" Without waiting for a response, he rushes over to one of the hats on display. Since this is the upper floor, I don't expect it to do anything too secret-agent-y. Proven when he gestures to it with both hands. "It's a top hat that makes the most delicious cheese dip!" He taps a button on the side with his cane, and a spigot appears out of the top hat and pours a generous helping of cheese sauce into a bowl. The Haberdasher grabs a tortilla chip from the container next to it and dips the tortilla into the cheese before addressing me once more. "I know what you're thinking, and you're right. This has absolutely no use in the field. But, hey! Cheese dip!"

He hands me the chip, and I humor him by popping it into my mouth. Then I can't help a faint hum of pleasure when I taste no less than three types of cheese and some warm spices that become more noticeable as I chew. It's not what I came for, but I'm tempted to buy this top hat and put it away for Phineas's birthday. I'd get one for Ferb too, but he isn't big on cheese dip; he prefers salsa with his chips. I know Phineas would share the cheese dip with him regardless.

The Haberdasher places a hand on his cheek as he takes a real look at me. Or rather, at the charred hat on my head. "Oh my! It seems your fedora has taken some damage. No matter. I can fix that up lickety-split!"

I hold up my hands and chitter, "Thank you, but that's not what I'm here for," even though, like every other human I've met, he has no idea what I'm saying.

He watches with interest as I whip out a small box and lift the top off. Once he sees the contents, he throws both hands over his mouth in a gasp, his cane clattering on the hardwood floor. "Is…is that what I think it is?"

With a heavy heart, I take out my father's gray fedora and set the box on the floor. I remove my own fedora and put his on, showcasing how it falls over my face because Dad was bigger than me. I take it off and hold it out for The Haberdasher.

"I see." He takes Dad's fedora from me as though handling a priceless treasure. "I would be honored to resize this for you. Oh, I still remember the day he and your mother brought you here for your training fedora." The Haberdasher clears his throat when his voice cracks. "I'll need your current fedora to transfer everything over. Assuming this will be a permanent switch?"

I take a deep, steadying breath before nodding and handing over my old fedora. When The Haberdasher takes it from me, it feels like I've handed over a vital piece of myself. Which is stupid, considering that I am choosing to do this. But, that brown 1940s style fedora has been a symbol of who I am since the moment it was placed on my head for the very first time. I'm allowed to be evil and sentimental, hence why my father's fedora will symbolize my fresh start. Dad may not approve of me using evil deeds to pursue justice, but he would know that my heart was in the right place.

The Haberdasher looks from one hat to the other, and his chin quivers as his eyes fill with tears. He puts on a smile for me and says, "I'll need some time to get everything sorted out. Come back in about two hours." He looks down at Dad's fedora again, and a small sob leaves him before he ushers me out the door, choking out, "Make it three."

I hear the doors lock behind me.

The Haberdasher is another human who doesn't see the agents as experiments. That was never a doubt in my mind, and seeing him so broken up about my father's passing cements that for me. Like with Carl and whoever else we find who treats us like people, I'll have to ensure that The Haberdasher is well cared for when this is all over.

I sneak back around the building, intending to head home and start plotting. When I'm secluded behind the building, I note the unusual amount of shade for the time of day and look up. An orange sphere is high in the sky and getting closer and closer…

I leap out of the way when a sphere the size of a small car lands in front of me and immediately bounces back into the sky. Phineas's shriek of glee eases the initial shock.

The sphere comes back down in the same spot, this time with Phineas having noticed me standing here. "Hi, Perry!" Up… Down… "What do you think of our-" Up… Down… "-giant bouncy balls?" Up… Down… "You want a ride?" Up… Down…

I give him two thumbs-up when I have the chance.

Up… Down… "Ferb has a basket." Up… Down… "Have fun!"

And…there he goes, off to catch up with his friends, I'm sure.

A loud sproi-oi-oing makes me turn around. This time, the ball is purple and has Ferb strapped into the seat on top of it. He lets go of the steering wheel - yes, there's a steering wheel - and leans over with his hand outstretched.

There's a true smile on my bill as I accept his offered hand and let him hoist me on top of the bouncy ball. The basket attached to the front is just big enough for me to lay on my stomach on the cushion inside. Ferb stretches seat belts (basket belts?) over my back and tail, securing me the way one might an ordinary platypus.

As though my boys were hoping to run into me.

"Hold on tight," Ferb instructs.

On that note, we launch way, way, way up into the air. Wind flies over us, the pressure flattening me into the seat. As we plummet back to earth, I feel the belts press into my spine and tail, keeping me from flying off the ride. We spring back up and start the process all over again. I see Phineas up ahead, along with three more bouncy balls - one gray, one blue, and one pink - that are being piloted by Buford, Baljeet, and Isabella respectively. As Ferb and I catch up to them, I hear everyone's laughter and gleeful screams. Ferb, true to his nature, is silent behind me, but I will happily make enough noise for both of us.

I let myself forget my secret identity for the time being - who's going to pay attention? - so that I can let my giggles turn into all-out laughter and scream at the top of my lungs, "THIS IS AWESOME!"

My boys always come through for me, whether they know it or not. They are some of the only lights I have left in my life. The loss of my parents - because my mother is lost, for all intents and purposes - was a stark reminder of how quickly those lights can be snuffed out. Being a secret agent in general taught me to never take others for granted, and that feels more true nowadays than it ever has before.

I'm savoring this. Every joyous scream I hear. Every sight of the city looking so small. Every drop that makes me glad I don't have a stomach.

Every single second spent with what is left of my family.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. We all eventually touch down in the backyard and climb off the bouncy balls, with the kids minus Ferb babbling about how much fun that was. Ferb undoes my straps, and I assume a mindless persona as he carries me off the ride.

"Oh, you found Perry," Isabella notes when she sees me.

Baljeet looks up at the five giant bouncy balls with a thoughtful hum and his hand cupping his chin. "Your inventions usually disappear by now. Where are we going to put these?"

Phineas reaches into his pocket and says, "Way ahead of you, Baljeet."

He pulls out a small remote and presses a button. We all watch in amazement as the bouncy balls shrink until they are small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Phineas picks one up and holds out for us to see.

"They shrink for easy storage!" he announces. "And, you can use them as regular bouncy balls."

My attention is diverted when Buford tosses one of the balls at Baljeet's head, making the latter yelp in pain and glare at the former, who catches the ball and declares that, "Story checks out."

Soon enough, we are in the kitchen and the kids are bouncing the miniature balls off of the linoleum flooring.

Just in time for Candace to drag her mother in while shouting, "They're bouncy balls, and they're huge!" Then Candace turns around, and the wind is knocked out of her. "But, but, but, but…"

Linda just smiles. "I see bouncy balls, but they aren't particularly big." She sets the grocery bags she was carrying on the counter. "If you kids can give me a few minutes, I'll have some snacks ready for you. And, speaking of, Perry, I have a surprise for you."

Oh? I walk up to her and act like it was only because I heard my name.

Linda pulls out a small bag and bends over to show me- Yes!

"There was a sale on live crawfish, so you're getting a special treat!"

Have I mentioned that I love my family?

"Yeah, good for you, Perry," Candace moans. She lifts me up and carries me into the living room, saying, "I'm borrowing the meat brick."

Candace can run a little hot and cold - it's the hormones - but in this case, "meat brick" is a term of endearment.

She flops down on the couch, positioning me on her stomach and groaning in the most dramatic way possible. "One of these days, Phineas and Ferb are gonna get themselves killed. And, the worst part is that I can't be mad at Mom for not believing me, because I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!"

I've always been torn on the whole busting thing. I won't deny that some of the boys' creations can be dangerous - those bouncy balls are a good example - but the boys always include every safety precaution. Plus, I know what it would do to them if they couldn't express their creativity. And, it isn't as if their inventions cause any harm.

Candace is looking out for our brothers in her own way. She's a good sister, even if her actions can be a little…intense.

She gives the back of my neck a scratch. "You believe me, don't you, Perry?"

"Of course I do," I chitter.

Whatever she decides that I said, it prompts her to run her whole hand up and down my back and head, the pleasant sensation drawing a purr out of me. "You better not tell anyone we have moments like this," Candace warns. "I have a rep to maintain."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

Candace does it for me and scoffs at her own words. "What am I worried about? All you ever say is 'hhhhaaaaahhh.'" Out of all the imitations of platypus calls I've heard from humans, Candace's is easily the worst.

We cuddle for a short spell until Candace leaves me on the couch and joins everyone for snacks. Moments later, Lawrence comes down the stairs and spots me. "Oh, there you are, Perry." He grabs today's newspaper and a pen off the coffee table and wags his fingers toward himself. "Come, come. Come here, boy."

Normally, I sit on Lawrence's lap in the morning while he does the crossword, but he overslept today and didn't have time. He promised we would do the routine when he got home from work, so here we are.

I hop off the couch and follow him into the kitchen. The kids are standing around and quietly munching on some type of crackers, paying me and Lawrence no mind apart from welcoming Lawrence home.

Lawrence takes a seat at the table and pats his lap while looking at me expectantly. I am about to jump up there when Linda appears beside me with my food bowl.

"Here you go, Perry," Linda says. She sets my bowl in front of me and gives me a pat on the head. "You may as well eat these while they're fresh."

Don't mind if I do! I'm starving, and the scent and sight of crawfish wiggling around in my bowl is making my mouth water.

"Ah, I see the missus has taken to spoiling you, has she?" Lawrence jests, ignoring the fond eye roll from his wife. "Well, don't let me stop you, though I do hope you'll be my thinking buddy as always."

I don't respond because I'm too busy crunching on the shells and chewing through the tender meat inside. Crawfish are expensive, so it truly is a rare treat for me. Especially live ones, the way nature intended for my species to eat them. Thank you, Linda!

Lawrence begins the crossword. "Now then, today's theme is 'Gone Fishin'.' One down, six letters: the loops on a rod that hold the fishing line."

I swallow my mouthful and answer, "Those are the guides."

"No, I believe 'erererer,' is too many letters." He laughs at his own joke.

As I munch on crawfish and bask in the simplicity of my pet life, my mind wanders to my fellow agents once more. It isn't fair that we can't enjoy the domestic sides of our lives to the fullest. I got a taste of that level of freedom when I told Phineas and Ferb the truth. Now that I've gotten an idea of what it's like to be truly open with my family, I want that for my fellow agents more than ever.

And, for myself.

A sudden bout of anger bubbles up in me. A crawfish starts to escape from my bowl, and I get way too much joy out of crushing it in my bill.

Why should we live in fear of being discovered? Why should we suffer the heartache of losing our families? Too many agents have felt that pain. I felt that pain once, and I hadn't even been discovered! No, OWCA sent me away because they felt I would be of more use elsewhere. It came completely out of the blue, not so much as a hint that this would be happening. The transfer had only lasted a couple of hours before sorting itself out, but that was a couple of hours spent with a big honkin' hole in my heart.

That's another aspect I was lucky in; I got to come home.

When OWCA falls, I'll seek out the agents who were sent away from their homes and help them find their old owners. If they want to stay where they are now, that will be fine. If they want to return to their old families, I'll find a way to restore their families' memories. Whatever the case, the animals will have a choice.

The Organization Without a Cool Acronym stole all of our choices. With the help of Pinky, Frieda, Heinz, and whomever else we recruit, I'm going to steal them back.

"Oh, Agent P!" The Haberdasher fans his watering eyes after he places the fedora on my head. "Your father would be so happy to see you in that hat."

I turn around and freeze at the sight of my reflection in the full-bodied (for the average human) mirror. Clad in my father's newly-sized gray fedora, I feel as though I am looking at my actual father. Same dark brown eyes. Same blocky body type. Similar facial structure. The shapes of my bill and tail come from Mom, but the tangerine-coloring is all Dad. If I had inherited his brown fur instead of a darker variant Mom's teal, Dad and I would be near-identical.

Especially with me in his fedora.

The Haberdasher puts his hands on my shoulders and smiles kindly at my reflection. "Let it out, Agent P. I won't tell a soul."

Yes, the tears in my eyes are of grief, but The Haberdasher doesn't know that they are also tears of rage like I've never felt. I blink them away and adjust Dad's fedora with both hands while glaring determinedly at my mirror image.

I'll fix this, Dad. I'll fix everything that OWCA broke. One step at a time.

Oblivious of the turn my thoughts took, The Haberdasher asks me, "I presume that fire in your eyes means that you are satisfied with my work?"

I nod.

The Haberdasher claps his hands together. "Splendid!" He sighs suddenly and rests his cheek on his pressed hands. "You know, my father was the O.W.C.A. haberdasher before me." I didn't know that. "He taught me everything I know about my trade, and I've no doubt that your father did the same for you."

Dad wasn't one of my teachers, but I learned a hell of a lot from him outside of The Academy.

"I miss my father every day," The Haberdasher says. "But, let me assure you that, while the pain will never go away, it will get easier to bear with time."

I tip Dad's- I tip my hat in thanks and act like those words aren't making me even more emotional.

The Haberdasher tips his own hat response. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. We both have our own duties to perform. Until next time, Agent P. And, give your mother a hearty 'happy birthday' from me!"

He doesn't know about Mom. He thinks she still knows him, that she still knows me. On a lesser note, it's not Mom's birthday. I don't have the heart to correct him on either of those things.

Chapter Text

Perry

I call Pinky and Frieda and ask if I can meet with them immediately. Pinky suggests the old abandoned Old Abandoned Amusement again, but we shouldn't be meeting at the same place too often. As such, he suggests the Fireside Girls Lodge since there are no meetings today and the tiny log cabin should be empty. He disables the security cameras before the three of us sneak into the building.

Both of my friends are initially thrown off by the sight of my new fedora, but Pinky gives me an approving tip of his own hat, and Frieda claps me on the back with a sad smile.

Then I tell them that I will be joining them in going rogue, and I am met with stunned silence.

Which Frieda breaks by saying, "Back up. Earlier today, you were bemoaning the fact that you couldn't bring yourself to go rogue. Now you're all gung ho about it?"

She's right. Such a short time ago, I was afraid to step in. Thank goodness for Heinz and his inators, or I never would have seen the light. But, I can't tell Pinky and Frieda about that. They'll try to change me back to my old, cowardly self. They'd mean well, but that's not the man I want to be anymore.

All that matters is the endgame. Showing the world OWCA's horrible practices. Liberating the agents and the few humans who genuinely care about us. Ensuring that no other animals have to suffer the kind of pain that I have.

I settle on telling my friends, "Let's just say I've had an epiphany."

Pinky and Frieda stare at me then glance at each other before Pinky says to me, "Must have been a hell of an epiphany. But, we're happy to have you on board." He punctuates this with a salute that Frieda copies.

I salute back then say, "Fill me in. What's the plan so far?"

Frieda gestures to the chihuahua. "Pinky and I were discussing potential recruits to our cause. Two rogue agents - well, three now - isn't going to be enough to take down an entire organization."

I cross my arms. "Four. I know Heinz isn't an agent, but he's with us."

"Right," Frieda squawks. "Still not gonna be enough, though. The hard part is choosing people we know won't turn us in."

"They have to be agents who not only believe the files I sent out are real," Pinky adds, "but who would be willing to go against the O.W.C.A."

I nod in agreement. "Any ideas so far?"

My friends look at each other and shrug. "Like I said," Frieda states, "that's the hard part."

"One nice thing," Pinky barks, "is that since my emails are so recent, it wouldn't seem weird if we started a conversation about them. Frieda and I have friends in the agency, so we're going to start there."

"I'm having brunch with Helen the Horse and Lois the Leopard on Sunday," Frieda says. "We do a lot of gossiping at those, so I can bring it up then."

Pinky adds, "I'm pretty tight with Ronnie the Rottweiler from Conjunction's division. He's a bit of a loose cannon, so I bet he'd listen. What about you, Perry? Got any agent friends besides us?"

I tap my chin in thought. I've always been extremely careful with whom I befriended, but I never thought that would be a disadvantage. I have some acquaintances, but now that I think about it, there aren't any agents I'm particularly close with besides the two animals in front of me.

I finally shrug and toss my hands at my sides. "You guys are just more extroverted than me. What I can do is sneak around and listen for any signs of unrest. If it seems like someone is unhappy enough with OWCA, I can make my move."

Pinky flicks his tail restlessly. "That's only three potential recruits plus whoever Perry finds, and we don't even know if they would work out."

Frieda frowns deeply. "It's too bad we don't know agents who have already gone rogue or that we know are thinking about doing it."

Her words spark a few memories. "I know someone," I chitter. "But, it would be the biggest risk we've taken so far."

OWCA-Traz is a maximum security prison that houses only the most dangerous former agents. Think Alcatraz for anthropomorphic animals. They allow visitors, but it's a long process that I won't bore you with. Fortunately, my top agent status lets me skip certain steps.

Well, one step. And, it's only one less background check they have to make. And, the computers are slow.

This is why I waited until morning. I knew I'd be here a while.

Eventually, I am allowed to walk to the room I am looking for, where they keep the most, most dangerous criminals. Why my target is being housed with them, I'm not sure. His only crime was trying to hack into OWCA's mainframe.

Perhaps that is the reason. These people will stop at nothing to keep their secrets away from prying eyes.

Of course, this former agent also set fire to headquarters, but considering what the other animals in this wing have done, I still don't think this guy is that bad.

More importantly, after going rogue, he became a mercenary for hire. Even though I'm the one who captured him - twice - I have a feeling he'll hear me out.

But first, I have to get past the guard.

Eli the Elephant is, well, an elephant - the larger African breed on top of it - so he's big enough without the ability to stand on two legs. In addition to his gigantic brown fedora, he is wearing a dark blue guard jacket that must have cost hundreds in fabric alone. Honestly, this organization wastes its budget on the dumbest things.

Nevertheless, they did something right when they appointed Eli to stand guard over the worst of the worst. A bull elephant is already terrifying when provoked, and Eli is stoic and no-nonsense enough to make me look like a circus clown.

"Why do you want to see my prisoner?" he asks in his low, booming voice.

I have to crane my neck all the way back to speak to the guard properly. "I wanna ask him some questions."

Eli's dark eyes bore through me before he nods. "Very well. But, remember the rules. Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You will pass him nothing but soft paper. No pencils or pens. No staples or paperclips in his paper. Use the sliding food carrier. No exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand, sir."

He nods once more before opening the door with his entirely fingerless hand…somehow. "I know you'll be fine on your own, Agent P, but would you prefer it if I went in with you?"

Another advantage of my status is that Eli isn't going to watch my every move. "Appreciated, but unnecessary," I tell him.

He nods a final time before letting me step into the wing and closing the door behind me.

Have you ever seen dungeons in movies and shows that take place in medieval times? The dismal stone walls, dirt floor, and crappy lighting remind me of that. Except the prisoners here are held back by unbreakable glass walls instead of iron bars.

I keep my eyes straight ahead, though I can feel the heated glares on me as I pass the cells. A few growls follow me. Elaine the Anteater screams, "Hey, fuck you!" at me since I'm the reason she's locked up. I was after her in the first place because I caught her raping one of the trainees - it later came out that it hadn't been the first time she'd pulled a stunt like that - so I flip her off but otherwise ignore her.

Something OWCA didn't expect but should have is that, when you give an animal cognizant thought, you unlock the potential for that animal to be a rather…unsavory individual. Hence why they ended up with monsters like Elaine. That's the one thing I don't blame OWCA for, as they would have had no way of knowing how the animals in this facility would turn out.

My target doesn't deserve to be here, though. When I captured him the first time, all I knew about him was that he'd hacked the mainframe and set HQ on fire as a distraction so that he could escape. Out of curiosity, I did some digging after the fact and learned some things that made me sympathize with him, though I still didn't condone his actions. Nor did I go easy on him when Heinz busted him out of prison a month later.

But, things are different now. I can only hope that my target will listen.

His cell is at the end on the wing, and thankfully there is no one in the cells across from or beside him. He must have heard the commotion, as he is standing right up against the glass when I approach. My target is a stark white rabbit with fur that's due for a wash, long ears flopping down the back of his head, and blue eyes narrowed with a mix of intrigue and distaste.

"Agent P," he sneers. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Hello, Dennis," I chitter simply, getting closer to the glass than the guard would approve of. I lower my voice. "I brought a peace offering. It's also kind of a bribe."

He watches intently as I reach into my fedora. His eyes widen and lock on to the fat, fresh carrot I pull out of there.

Then he squints at me and asks, "Has it been poisoned?"

I break off a piece, pop it into my mouth, and chew slowly and thoroughly before swallowing. This seems to satisfy him, and he doesn't stop me from pulling out the food carrier and placing the remaining carrot inside before sliding it through the little slot back into his cell.

Dennis looks at me, looks at the carrot, looks at me, slowly grabs the carrot with both paws. He gives the carrot a long, studious sniff then briefly swipes his tongue over it. He apparently deems it safe to eat, as he wastes no more time and digs in like he hasn't eaten in weeks.

Knowing how little OWCA cares about animals, I wouldn't be surprised if he really hasn't eaten in weeks.

When he polishes off his peace offering/bribe and licks his lips, he masks his pleasure with a hard scowl and lies, "That was, uh…slightly better than the food here. But, you have my attention."

I thought I would. I double-check that no one is close enough to hear but lean in and lower my voice more anyway. "I have a proposition for you. You do mercenary work, right?"

Dennis lets out a bitter laugh and spreads his arms. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't do that anymore."

"What if I told you I could get you out of here?"

Now I definitely have his attention. He puts his paws on his hips. "Cut to the chase, P. What's this about?"

"You and I have two things in common, Dennis. One is the love we have for our owners." When he tilts his brow, I add, "The name 'Lindsey Cross' should ring a bell."

It only takes him a split second to cover up his reaction, but that's a split second too long. "She was my owner. So?"

"So, I understand that you revealed your secret identity to her, were discovered a few days later, and were immediately transferred to another city while Lindsey's memory of you was erased."

I don't miss the tick in his jaw. "And?"

Time to bring out the big guns. "It just so happens that I know three brilliant inventors who are not affiliated with the agency and would gladly find a way to restore Lindsey's memories." And, my mother's, now that I think about it, but one thing at a time. "If you help me with a little something."

Dennis crosses his arms tightly over his chest. His lips are slammed shut, and there's a noticeable quiver in his narrowed brow. His tone is hard in a painful way. "Lindsey is dead."

Whatever I expected him to say, that wasn't it.

Dennis quickly masks his reawakened grief with a smirk. "What? OWCA didn't write that in their little notebook?"

"I, uh… Th-there was nothing in the records-"

Dennis throws his head back in a disdainful laugh. "Of course there wasn't, you glorified beaver! You think OWCA gives enough shits to make a record of that? And, that's if they even know about it!" I quickly raise my hands to my chest and lower them with the palms facing downward. Dennis scowls deeper but lowers his voice. "You wanna know why I went rogue, P? Since you love your weird-ass host family so much-"

"My family is not- Okay, they're kind of weird. Proceed."

Dennis almost smiles at that before jabbing his finger at the glass. "Since you love your owners, let's see if you can comprehend this. Linds and I were a team. Her whole family lived on the opposite end of the country, so it was just us, and we liked it that way. Then out of nowhere, she's in hospital. Know why? 'Cause she's got a tumor right up here." He knocks his fist against his skull. "You believe that? Brain cancer! My Linds! And, it just kept getting worse!"

The more Dennis tells me, the more he covers his emotions with anger. And, the more I regret capturing him (twice) and getting him sent here (twice). Maybe that's precisely why he's telling me.

Or, maybe I'm the first person who was willing to listen. Perhaps both theories are correct.

"Of course I told her the truth! I didn't know how much time she had left, and I wasn't gonna spend my final moments with her living a lie! So, when I got discovered and sent away, you know what I did? I said 'fuck you' to protocol and flew back to her hospital the first chance I got."

"What did you find?" I'm afraid of the answer because I think I know what it is.

Dennis smirks again like he thinks he got one over on me, yet he seems to subconsciously shrink into himself. "What I found was that Lindsey had passed away. Coincidentally, it happened mere hours after her memory was erased. You're smart. You tell me why I went rogue."

I run my fingers through the fur under my fedora and try to make sense of all this. "They…they used the memory eraser on someone with brain cancer? Did- What- Why? I-I'm no doctor, but even I can tell you how dangerous that is! And, if she was dying anyway, who cares if she knows?"

Dennis turns around and locks his fingers behind his head, possibly as a means of hiding his expression. "Long story short, P, your only bargaining chip is six feet under. Whatever you want, you ain't getting it from me."

"I'm sorry."

The honest guilt in my voice shocks him enough to make him face me once more.

"I never knew any of this. All I knew was that you'd hacked the systems and set HQ on fire. If I had known…"

When I can't find the words, Dennis prompts, "Would it have made a difference?"

I consider the question, weigh it alongside who I used to be. "I don't know if it would have then. But, it proves to me now that I made the right call in talking to you. Because it ties in with the second thing we have in common."

"Oh?" he asks with a head tilt.

I get close enough to the glass that my bill is almost touching it and speak quietly enough that Dennis has to get closer as well. "We both want to see OWCA burn."

Dennis backs off a bit to analyze my words, tone, and expression. Then his lips slowly pull into a wicked grin. "Well, well, well. OWCA's golden boy. How'd they piss you off?"

"My backstory is too long to get into right now," I say. "I don't want Eli coming in to check on me. Just know that my team and I are working on finding recruits to our cause, and we agree that you'd be a good addition."

By "agree," I mean that Frieda laughed and said I was insane, and Pinky just kind of stared at me. The actual agreement came in when I explained my plan and reminded them that Dennis would most likely hate OWCA even more once he knew what had been done to his body.

That had led to a new plan. Frieda would seek out potential recruits among the agents. Pinky would dig through the mainframe and pull as many agent files as he could get his digital paws on. Meanwhile, I worked on Dennis and filled Heinz in afterwards.

Dennis twitches his whiskers. "A team, you say?"

"As of right now, there are only four of us. Five, if you agree to join in. We're just getting started and we're trying to keep anyone from knowing we're rogues, so it's a slow process. But, it'll be worth it in the end."

Dennis gazes at me with a new appreciation. "I thought you seemed different, but I just assumed it was the new hat. Alright. I'm in. But, how do you plan on busting me out of here?"

Satisfied, I gesture vaguely for a certain something to come here. Dennis jumps when a pitch black full-body suit a little bigger than we are leaps down from wherever and stands beside me as though someone is wearing it.

When Dennis recovers from the shock, he points to the suit and asks me, "What is that thing, and where did it come from?"

I place my hand on the suit's shoulder. "This is a ninja suit. Created by two of those inventors I mentioned. As for where it came from, I have no idea. You see, the suit's purpose is to allow the wearer to go completely unseen by anyone not wearing a ninja suit of their own. Press this button to activate and deactivate it." I demonstrate by pressing a hidden button on the ninja suit's breast and showing Dennis how it collapses to the ground like normal clothing. I gather the material in my arms and stuff it into the small food carrier to pass it to Dennis. With any luck, the security cameras Pinky shut down are still down as we speak. Knowing Pinky, I don't need luck. "It's also been updated from the original model to adhere to any size and body type, avoid camera detection, and block your thermal signature. The ultimate in stealth technology, though I could be biased. Put this on, and you won't have to lift a finger. The suit will do the sneaking for you."

I felt guilty about using one of Phineas and Ferb's inventions for evil, but they were so excited about my asking for their help that the guilt didn't last long. I offered to repay them, but Phineas said, "You don't need to repay us, Perry! Knowing that we're helping you and your friend is all the repayment we need!" I'd told them that I was using the ninja suit to help a fellow agent escape from the enemy territory he was being held hostage in. It wasn't a lie.

Dennis takes the ninja suit and eyes the fabric with interest. "If this works the way you say it does, I might owe your inventor friends a favor."

You won't get within fifteen feet of them. Instead of saying that, I tell the rabbit, "Here's what I'm thinking. You put that on and when the guards make their rounds, the suit will hide you from them. They'll think you escaped, and they'll have to open your cell to search for clues. That's when you really will escape."

"And, the suit will do all the work?"

"You'll direct the ninja suit to where you wanna go, but as far as you staying undetected, yes, the suit will do all the work."

Dennis presses the activation button and yelps in shock when the suit springs to life and leaps to somewhere unseen. Dennis spins around, scanning the inside of his cell. "Where did it go?"

I shrug. "Somewhere we can't see it. It'll come to you when asked, though."

"Uh…" Dennis glances at me then awkward gestures toward a random spot. "C'mere…suit." He nearly falls over in shock when the suit is suddenly standing next to him. He chuckles in disbelief then lifts both paws toward it and flicks his fingers. "Go hide again!" The ninja suit does as instructed, and Dennis laughs a little louder than he should. "That thing is awesome!"

I roll my eyes and mutter, "It's not a toy, Dennis."

Dennis scoffs. "P, I've been stuck in this shithole for over a year. I take my fun where I can get it."

No argument there. "Well, put that suit on, and you'll be out of here and will have some real fun. Once OWCA has been terminated, you'll be able to go wherever you want and do whatever you want."

"I like the sound of that." He spreads out his arms and takes a bow. "I am at your service, Perry the Platypus."

Excellent. "I prefer Perry Flynn-Fletcher, if it's all the same."

Dennis straightens. "Noted. And, know that I still use my owner's last name as well. Not that your little records will tell you that."

The fact that he, too, has a preferred name makes me loathe that the records I found list him as "Dennis the Rabbit." "Alright, Dennis Cross. I want you to wait, say, two days before escaping. That way, there's less of a chance they'll pin your escape on me. Think you can wait two days?"

Dennis shrugs with an eager grin. "I've been here this long. What's two more days? Where should we meet up?"

"Do you know where Lake Nose is?"

"I'm familiar."

"The eastern-most beach has a big rock that's shaped exactly like a giant human nose. You can't miss it."

Dennis snorts at the mental image. "Guess that's why they call it Lake Nose."

"Actually, no relation," I correct. "My team and I will be waiting in one of the nostrils. And, yes, I know how weird that sounds. Meet us there around midnight. Again, two days."

Dennis gives me the first salute he's probably given anyone since his imprisonment began. "See you in two days."

I take my leave, allowing more growls to follow in my wake. Depending on what the prisoners did, I will most likely be liberating some of them as well when all is said and done. (Not Elaine, though. Elaine can rot.) For now, I feign indifference to their plights and knock on the door, calling out, "Agent E! I'm all set!"

The door opens, and Eli closes and locks it again once I'm at his side. "I was about to check on you," the elephant tells me. "You get what you came for?"

I pretend to think it over. "Hard to say. But, I live for the challenge."

"That makes one of us."

I tilt my head, wondering if I actually heard what I think I heard, given how quiet it was. "Come again?"

Eli freezes then leans against the door and feigns nonchalance. "Eh, just brooding. Don't mind me."

Hm… "Eli- Can I call you Eli?" He only grunts, so I make my own assumptions. "Eli, I know we aren't close, but you're still a fellow agent. If there's a problem, I'd like to help solve it."

Eli gives me a once-over before deciding that I'm sincere. Still, his expression and body language are carefully guarded. "Job just gets to me sometimes. Being surrounded by lowlives every day isn't something I would've chosen. But, we do what we have to do."

I can work with this… "I hear ya. It can be a lot for me too sometimes." I gesture vaguely with one hand. "At least I get a break from the darkness. I don't know how you do it."

Eli shrugs. "I do it 'cause I ain't got a choice. But, this agency is the reason I'm still kicking, so I'll do as I'm told. Most of us weren't born special, you know."

My whole body tenses, and I allow that rigidity to leak into my tone. "My own venom chipped away at my insides when I was little more than a child, and the O.W.C.A. made sure it didn't do worse." Even though the O.W.C.A. did do worse to my body. "Don't talk to me like I don't know what dying feels like."

Eli looks down at me in surprise. "Apologies, Agent P. I thought you were the guy who had the agent dad and normal animal mom."

Now it's my turn to be surprised. "I-I am. But, shortly into my training, I was struck ill with a lethal platypus disease called venom displacement." According to the records that are more lie than truth, as it turns out. "It was the talk of the agency at the time, so I just figured everyone knew about it."

Eli turns away with an annoyed swish of his trunk. "I've been guarding this prison for as long as I've been with the agency. Unless the other guards mention it or the prisoners start gossiping, I don't hear much outside of these walls."

My mind races with questions. Where do the guards go when they're off-duty? Are they ever off-duty? Are they as much prisoners as the felons they stand guard over? Do they have families? Friends outside of OWCA-Traz? How does OWCA decide who is forced to spend their second chance at life stationed in this dismal place? Because if Eli is any indicator, that is yet another choice that the animals were robbed of.

The only safe question I can ask the elephant before me is, "How long have you been with OWCA?"

His response: "Longer than you've been alive. Longer than your parents have been alive. Probably longer than your grandparents have been alive. What's the average lifespan of a platypus?"

"Without the genetic modifications, ten to twelve years."

Eli taps his huge stumpy hand to his chest. "Fifty to seventy. With the modifications, who knows?"

I shake my head and let out a low, sympathetic whistle. That is a very long life to be spent stuck in a place like this. It would be one thing if it had been Eli's choice. Or, if he had grown to love the job he was forced into. But, maybe his stoicism isn't merely his personality. He seems worn down. And, why wouldn't he be? He's been forced to stare at the lowest members of society for God knows how long. Nobody asked if he wanted to do that.

So, I'll ask him something now. "I got a hypothetical for you. If you had the opportunity to get out of here and do something wild, would you take it?"

It's hard to see from my low vantage point, but I know there's a spark in Eli's eyes. "You got something in mind?"

Potentially. "Not at the moment, but if something comes up, I can let you know. In fact," I pull out my personal cell, "give me your number. I can call you if I need some muscle." I pretend to reconsider. "Do you have a personal phone? That way, I can give you some levity without the bosses complaining about us using OWCA phones for stupid stuff. And, I can still call you if I need you for a mission."

Eli observes me as though I'm under a microscope then crosses his arms over his chest. "You aren't what I pictured, Agent P, given the stories I've heard. Did you really once knock out a rhinoceros using only a carton of milk?"

An embarrassingly loud laugh escapes me. "Of course not! It was a gallon of milk. Not that impressive."

Eli smiles a little then pulls his phone out of his jacket. "I think I'm gonna like talking to you, Agent P."

"Perry," I request.

He smiles wider. "Perry."

Heinz

I spent the whole night tossing and turning and hating myself. Granted, that is a ritual I am familiar with, but it carried a different weight than it normally would. When I did manage to sleep, my dreams were filled with fire and blood and a platypus with a sinister grin. Again, not unusual, though the platypus part was new.

Now, I shout out a Drusselstinian curse and slam my wrench against my work table in frustration. I made a re-good-inator once before, when my make-everything-evil-inator hit Carl, but I did that on the spot and in a hurry, so I don't remember how I did it. The fact that I'd used parts from the plane Francis and I were flying on at the time doesn't help.

I groan and prop my elbow on the table while resting my forehead in my free hand. My tired eyes are fixed on the small pile of metal and wires that should be a re-good-inator but is actually a bunch of nothing. Why is it that I had no issues with building this inator by blindly grabbing parts from a plane, yet I can't seem to figure it out in my own lab?

Meanwhile, Perry the Platypus is out there plotting an evil scheme to destroy the O.W.C.A., the very organization that I oppose and that he used to adore. I can't help a bitter chuckle at the irony.

If Perry the Platypus had been doing this of his own volition, I wouldn't hesitate to help him. But, my nemesis is only like this now because of my inators, my mistakes.

It's my fault he became the antithesis of himself. My heart breaks at the thought of the evil deeds he could be performing while I'm sitting here being incompetent. Perry the Platypus is one of the most competent people I've ever met. I wouldn't be surprised if the O.W.C.A. headquarters was a pile of dust by now. And, if- When I figure out how to return him to normal, will he remember the bad things he did? If not, he will surely find out about them. How will he survive the guilt?

"Krkrkrkr."

I jerk to my feet at the all too familiar noise. I abandon my work for the time being and turn around to find… "A platypus in a gray fedora?"

The teal-colored mammal drops the smile he came in with and smacks his forehead with a cute yet irritated little grunt. He rolls his eyes and chitters something rude-sounding under his breath before swapping out the gray fedora on his head for a brown one.

I jump back in shock, my already aching lower back colliding with the table behind me. "Perry the platypus in a gray fedora?!"

Perry the Platypus makes a show of switching back to the gray fedora while giving me the biggest God, you're stupid look he's ever given me. And, that's saying something!

I'll let it slide because, frankly, I do feel pretty dumb. "You got a new fedora! It's nice. That's a good color on you." I point to the hat and ask, "Say, wasn't your dad's fedora that color?"

Perry the Platypus smiles again, but much more shyly as he tips his hat to me.

It clicks, spreading a bittersweet warmth through me. "Wait, that is his fedora, isn't it? Aw, how sweet!"

So, maybe Perry the Platypus isn't evil? He wouldn't want to pay tribute to his deceased father if he was evil, would he? Then again, unlike me, Perry the Platypus had a good, solid relationship with his father. Regardless, I don't think Brutus the Platypus would appreciate his fedora being worn by someone evil, even if that someone is his son.

I swallow thickly at the thought and rub the back of my hand. "So, uh, have you thought about that…that thing we talked about?"

Perry the Platypus regains the enthusiasm he came in with. He mimes holding something and chitters purposefully.

"Oh, right! The platypus-translator-inator! Give me a sec."

I jog to the shelf where I keep tools and spare parts and grab the megaphone-shaped inator before returning to Perry the Platypus's side and handing it to him.

He grips the handle in both hands and chitters into it. "I wanna start off by thanking you."

"Thanking me?" I ask.

"For blasting me with the bad-idea-inator. If it wasn't for that, I never would've turned myself evil."

He's thanking me for that? Does he know how much I hate myself for that? Evidently not, considering that he keeps talking and making it worse in the process.

"And, without that, I never would have been willing to help Pinky and Frieda. I'm finally doing something, Heinz!"

Perry the Platypus fills me in on what he, Pinky the Chihuahua, and Frieda the Flamingo have been up to since yesterday. Pinky the Chihuahua is rooting around databases, and Frieda the Flamingo is keeping watch for signs of unrest that could lead to new recruits to their - our? - cause.

But, all I hear is the part where Perry the Platypus is helping a dangerous criminal escape from OWCA-Traz. Granted, I helped this same criminal escape once, but I'm, you know, supposed to do things like that. Perry the Platypus is supposed to stop people from doing things like that. Even worse is that when I ask where he got the "ninja suit" from, he informs me that Phineas and Ferb made it. Perry the Platypus is using his boys' invention for evil.

Which he is aware of, as he is quick to add, "Don't tell the boys I'm using the ninja suit for evil. They think Dennis was captured by opposing forces and is being held hostage. Which, well, he is. Just not the way they think."

Perry the Platypus is using his boys' invention for evil. And, he lied to them about it. Sort of. A lie by omission counts, right?

"To make a long story short," Perry the Platypus chitters, "we're making progress. We have plans in place. And, I'm contributing!" He laughs, and the sound is strangely manic. "Turning evil was the best thing I ever did!" Another knife through my chest. Metaphorically speaking. "I-it's like I have this-this confidence that I've never had before! And, I owe it all to you."

"Perry the Platypus, do you-" -even hear yourself? I was going to ask.

But, he sat the platypus-translator-inator down in favor of wrapping his little arms around my leg, and I am speechless for the… How many times have I been speechless this month? Wow, it's been a crazy month!

Either way, Perry the Platypus has never done this before. There have been a handful of recent incidents during which we'd clung to each other, but those moments were driven by panic, not affection. Neither of us has ever given the other a real hug before.

Until now.

He's so happy. I hate that it took him turning evil against his will to get there…but with tragic backstories piling up around him…can I really take that joy away? But, that joy is artificial, isn't it? And, once he returns to his old not-evil self, he's going to be devastated when his bad deeds come crashing over him.

And yet…something needs to be done about OWCA, and it sounds like progress is being made. Plus, Perry the Platypus seems to be mostly himself, so…maybe it's okay if he's a little evil for the time being? You know what they say. You can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs.

I probably shouldn't use that metaphor when talking about an egg-laying species…

Perry the Platypus leaps back with an embarrassed chirp and uses both hands to fiddle with his fedora while keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

I drop down to my knees, and he still avoids looking at me. I imagine he's bright red under that teal fur. He stiffens when I wrap my hands around his small body and lift him up, holding him against me so that his bill is resting on my shoulder. He slowly wiggles out his arms so that one wraps around my neck and the other around my upper arm. We are stiff and awkward at first but find ourselves relaxing as the position becomes more familiar.

We. Are. Hugging.

And, it's only happening because I turned Perry evil. Guilt slams into me, and I hold him tighter. He tightens his grip on me as well, which doesn't make me feel better.

But, he's happy and OWCA's downfall is set in motion. If Perry the Platypus has to be evil for a while, as long he's still himself overall, that's fine, right?

To keep myself from backing out, I say, "I told you I was with you no matter what you decided, Perry the Platypus, and I meant it. Whatever you need me to do, just ask."

Perry the Platypus chitters gratefully in response, and I feel my heart break a little more.

Chapter Text

Phineas

Lying to my family and friends kind of sucks. I don't know how Perry's been doing it for so long!

I put on a brave face for Perry's sake, but it's hard! When Perry has to sit on the floor during dinner, I have to bite my tongue so I don't request an extra chair for him. Yesterday, when it was Candace's turn to give Perry a bath, I got this icky feeling because Candace was basically giving a grown, able-bodied human man a bath. (I have no idea what I'll do when it's my turn to bathe Perry.)

Perry has started cleaning his own litter box though, so that's a plus.

In short, knowing "Agent P" has been an adjustment. I didn't know how big an adjustment it was until we left Dr. D's apartment that day and everything started to sink in.

But, it's worth the awkwardness because Ferb and I are really starting to know who Perry is. Our pet, who assures us that he likes the moniker, filled out the questionnaire Ferb gave him the day after receiving it. Ferb had found it hidden in his sock drawer, and we wasted no time reading it and soaking up new knowledge of our web-footed buddy. Perry's favorite food is live crawfish, "the way nature intended for my species to eat them," he'd written. His favorite of our inventions is Perry the Inaction Figure because he thought it was "both flattering and amusing." His least favorite was the cirque because, and I quote, "If you ever put me in that ridiculous outfit again, I will not hesitate to pee in ALL of your shoes." Not counting America, he's been to nine different countries for missions: England (is that why he disappears sometimes when we visit our paternal grandparents?), Canada, France, Drusselstein (no surprise there, since that's Dr. D's country of origin), Monaco, Australia, Chile, Iceland, and Mexico. If Ferb and I were kidnapped by bad guys, Perry would, and I quote, "hunt those miserable *heavily scribbled out portion* jerks down and do things to them that I will not describe until you boys are at least old enough to vote."

And, Perry even asked for our help! One of his fellow agents was captured, and Perry asked us to make some modifications to our ninja suits so that agent could get out unscathed. Perry didn't give us the details - he probably isn't allowed to - but Ferb and I were so happy to help that we didn't care! We asked if there was any way we could go on secret agent missions without Perry's bosses finding out that we know about him.

Perry's written response: I would chain you to your beds and strand your beds out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean if it meant keeping you out of harm's way.

I think Ferb and I are stuck on the sidelines, but that's okay. We're still helping!

And, Perry definitely needs help, even if not with secret agent stuff. The poor little guy's had it rough lately. First his father died unexpectedly; Ferb and I are assuming natural causes unless Perry tells us otherwise. Then his agent friend got captured by bad guys. When Perry came home a few hours ago, Ferb and I stole a moment to ask if the ninja suit helped. Perry informed us that the agent was going to give it two days before attempting an escape. He didn't tell us why the agent was waiting. Ferb thinks it's so that agent can gain intel.

Moving on, lately Perry seems…different. I can't pinpoint exactly what's different about him, but I know something is. I mentioned it to Ferb, who says that he noticed it too. However, Perry's behavior hasn't changed, so we're chalking up to us still getting used to knowing his true self.

And, we'd like to get to know him even more. We've been working on something in secret ever since Perry told us about his double-life, and we're finally ready to present it.

We wait until bedtime, which we have subconsciously reserved as our time to hang out with the real Perry and hear about his day. Ferb and I sit cross-legged on Ferb's bed as we wait for Perry to arrive. My excitement is mirrored in Ferb, though instead of a grin so wide it hurts his face, my brother's anticipation is in the subtle crinkle around his eyes and the energy wafting off of him.

Finally, Perry pushes the cracked door open while on all-fours. He doesn't stand on his hind legs until the door is firmly shut behind him. His secret agent instincts are on point, as he takes one look at us and puts his hands on his hips with a tilted brow.

"You're up to something."

I can't fight a small gasp. Ferb nudges my elbow with his own. I'll never understand how he can keep his feelings inside like that! It's a real talent!

Perry squints at us before cautiously walking up to Ferb's bed. He watches us a little longer before slowly climbing up to sit with us. Intelligent dark brown eyes glance between me and Ferb. "What is this?" Perry asks.

Even though he isn't yet aware that we can understand him. But, he's about to be aware.

I gesture to Ferb and myself. "Ferb and I would be happy to tell you what this is."

Perry blinks but seems to dismiss the likely correct conclusion he'd come to. "I am officially scared," he chitters.

I fight back giggles. "You don't have to be scared, Perry."

Perry's eyes widen, and he jerks back a little. I can practically see the gears turning in his head before his bill curls in an amused smirk. "Aren't you boys a little young to be making animal translators?"

We knew it wouldn't take long for him to figure it out. "Yes," I say. "Yes, we are."

Perry snorts. "I couldn't resist. Man, if I had a nickel for every human who decided to make a translator for me, I'd have three nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's kind of sweet that it happened three times."

His words nearly draw a relieved breath out of me. "That's good. Ferb and I were worried that we might be overstepping."

Perry frowns at that. "Why would you be overstepping? I loved talking to you kids before I could talk back! And, now that you know my secret, I have- I have nothing to hide."

I pick up on the way he stammered as well as the barely perceptible hunch in his shoulders, and I sense that Ferb sees it too. That shoulder thing has always been Perry's tell, though it's so subtle, you'd have to be watching for it to notice. Ferb was the one who first saw it, though we were young enough at the time that neither of us remembers the context. We just know that when something is bothering Perry, his shoulders hunch inward a little. It was the first sign to us that Perry wasn't the mindless animal he appeared to be.

Little did we know.

Perry picks up on what we picked up on. "Okay, so I still have some things to hide. Comes with the territory."

Satisfied, I say, "Makes sense."

Ferb nods in agreement.

"So, how do the translators work?" Perry asks.

"Ferb?"

My human brother dutifully removes the platypus translator from its spot behind his ear and holds it out for our furrier brother to see. It's a small, smaller than a pea, circular object with a very thin clear wire that allows it to hook around the wearer's ear. The wire ends in a clamp that secures the translator to the ear. The whole thing is virtually invisible when worn for added secret identity protection.

Ferb and I explain to Perry how the sound frequencies from his chitters register through speakers and reverberate into the wearer's ear as English. Perry's eyes glaze over during the explanation, but he's trying to listen, and that's good enough for me!

Perry waits until Ferb puts his translator back on before commenting, "You two never cease to amaze me. How did you fit all that circuitry into that tiny little speaker?" Ferb opens his mouth to answer, but Perry holds up his hands and laughs, "Don't answer that. My brain is full enough!" He tilts his brow and rubs his chin in thought. "Say, by any chance, do you have some extra translators lying around?"

I love where this is going! "No, but we can make some."

"And, do those things translate other animal sounds?"

"No, but we can work on that. Are you thinking of Dr. D, Perry?"

"Among other things," our pet says vaguely. "See, I'm, uh…working on something I can't tell you about, and one those translators would make things a lot easier. As for Dr. D, he's the third nickel I mentioned, but his translator is handheld and only works on platypuses."

"Say no more!" I turn to Ferb and say, "Ferb, he knows what we're gonna do tomorrow!"

With his signature smugness, Ferb whips out a schematic with measurements and equations and everything else we'll need.

Impressed, I add, "How do you do it?"

"Uh, there's something else," Perry chitters. His shoulders hunch again, and he steeples his webbed fingers. "I was wondering if maybe…you could help me…introduce myself to our family?"

Oh. This just got serious. In a good way, but still. Serious.

Perry feels the shift in the atmosphere and fidgets in his seat, his shoulders pulling inward a little more as he avoids eye contact with both of us. "I-I know I said I didn't want to just yet, but… Well, I can't say…a lot on the subject, but… Something happened to-to the owner of…someone I work with. It just- It got me thinking, you know?"

I wonder what happened. Ferb gives me a warning look before I can ask. He's right; Perry clearly either doesn't want to talk about it or can't talk about it. But, whatever it was must have been pretty bad.

"Is that why you were asking about extra translators?" Ferb asks. "Would you like us to make some for Mother, Father, and Candace? In addition to one for Dr. D?"

Perry steeples his fingers again. "If it isn't too much trouble. I-I don't wanna cut into your summer fun."

I can't help but laugh at what a silly statement that is before waving dismissively. "Nonsense, Perry! When you told us about your secret identity, Ferb and I agreed that we want to help you out! Even if you won't let us go on missions. Speaking of, are you sure you won't reconsider-"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather shave off all my fur."

It's disappointing, but I know he only wants us to be safe. "Fair enough. Do you want us to make the translators before or after you come out to everyone?"

"I…think I'd like to see how the reveal goes first."

"Alright. But, I know they're gonna love your true self as much as we do!"

Ferb nods with a small smile.

Perry ducks his head with a shy grin. He startles suddenly and glances down at his...vibrating wrist? He pulls back what I realize is a layer of artificial fur to reveal some kind of watch underneath. His eyes narrow at the screen, and he confirms my suspicions when he says, "Pardon me, boys. This is work. I'll take it in my lair. Don't wait up. Love you."

"We love you too, Perry!" I say with a wave that Ferb mimics as our pet puts on his fedora and exits through…

How long has there been a tunnel behind that picture of Ferb death metal screaming at our school's talent show?

Follow up question: How many other tunnels are hidden around our house? If finding the answer didn't mean risking Perry's bosses knowing what we know, I'd search the building top to bottom.

Ferb

Phineas and I barely slept, too anxious on our beloved pet's behalf.

The monotreme in question didn't come to bed last night, neither mine nor our brother's. When we went downstairs this morning, we found Perry in his pet bed in the living room, flopped down on his stomach and out like a light. T'was not the first time we'd discovered him in such a state. Once upon a time, we thought nothing of it because the average platypus sleeps for around fourteen hours a day, with sixty percent of that time spent in a REM state.

Now we know that Perry is far from the average platypus. If he spent the night in his pet bed, especially after leaving so suddenly and telling us not to wait up, it likely means that he had a late-night mission and passed out from exhaustion.

No job is ever as cool as it looks on the telly, and it seems that being a secret agent is no different.

Phineas and I were hoping to do the big reveal after breakfast, but Perry is dead to the world throughout the meal. Again, it isn't the first time, but it's much more concerning now that we know he likely spent the night putting himself in peril.

I admire Perry's fortitude. My human brother, sister, and I, not to mention our friends, are no strangers to saving the world, but we don't do that for a living. I don't know about everyone else, but I know I could never do what Perry does as my career. It takes true courage to face off against the darkest corners of mankind (and probably animalkind) as often as Perry does and still remember how to smile.

My brother and I fill our time by examining our blueprint for the Perry translators and discussing modifications. Per Perry's request, we will not begin the building process until after the truth is out. But, nothing says we can't get a jumpstart.

Phineas and I are seated at my desk - he has one as well, but mine has all the blueprints - going over our notes when we hear our bedroom door open. Our heads swerve in that direction, and thankfully Phineas is seated on the side of me that will not cause his large nose to bump into my more narrow skull. Perry covers his bill in a yawn that now seems far too cutesy for him and closes the door behind him.

He lifts his arms in a long stretch and chitters for the translators in our ears, "Morning, boys."

"It's actually afternoon," Phineas corrects, "but good morning anyway, Perry!"

Perry blinks a few times then looks at the clock on the wall and flinches. "Sorry." He walks over to us, yawning once more as he does so. "I was up all night on a stakeout."

Phineas shares my intrigue. "What kind of stakeout?"

"Some poachers managed to get ivory tusks across the U.S. border," Perry explains, more awake now. "Highly illegal, as I'm sure you know. I teamed up with a puff adder I'm friendly with, so the wait wasn't too boring. And, my budding friendship with an elephant made it all the more satisfying when we brought those fuckers to justice."

Perry punctuates the statement with a proud grin and a fist punching into his hand. As happy as I am to hear that the poachers will be punished, I can't help but blink in surprise at Perry's…description of them. Phineas is frozen and silent next to me, so I know he is just as shocked.

Perry gasps and throws his hands over his bill. He grimaces and chitters, "I-I meant jerks. When we brought those jerks to justice. Sorry. I'm used to talking about these things with other agents."

It seems that Phineas and I aren't the only ones still adjusting to this new normal. Soon we will be joined by three more people.

"No worries, Perry," Phineas says. He slides off his chair. I do the same and stand by his side as he asks our pet, "So, how do you wanna do the reveal? We were gonna ask last night, but then you had to stop those poachers."

Perry looks between us then shrugs. "I don't know. I've been picturing different scenarios, but they all end with the planet blowing up." At my and Phineas's expressions, Perry confesses, "And, now that I've said it out loud, I realize how ridiculous that sounds."

I decide to throw in my two cents. "You know, Perry, it's okay if you aren't truly ready for them to know."

Perry sucks in air between his teeth and rubs his hands together. "No. I want to do this. It's just scary." He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle and scratches his head. "How weird is that? I can take on evil scientists and serial killers no problem, yet coming out to my family is what scares me."

"It isn't that weird," I say. "Sometimes emotional situations can be the scariest situations of all."

Although, serial killers sound pretty intimidating as well…

More relevantly, there's the heightened risk of the wrong people learning that Perry's cover is blown. I know no one in our family will talk, and Perry must know it too or he wouldn't want to tell everyone. But, I can only imagine the fear plaguing him.

"Well said, Ferb," Phineas praises, unaware of the turn my thoughts are taking. He turns back to Perry. "We'll make this as easy for you as possible, Perry." He bends over to rub the top of Perry's bill. "Everything will work out. It always does!"

The trepidation is still present, but our platypus's smile is genuine. "I envy your optimism, Phineas. And, Ferb, your wisdom." He takes in a deep breath through his nostrils then claps his hands together. "Alright. Let's get this show on the road."

Phineas and I gather Mother, Father, and Candace in the kitchen and have everyone sit down at the dining table. Forget a knife; you would need a chainsaw to cut this tension.

"Is everything alright, lads?" Father asks. "You seem so…uncharacteristically serious."

Phineas gnaws on his lower lip and wrings his hands in his lap. Sweat is beaded on his forehead. It seems that the importance of this moment is finally sinking in, and it's sinking hard. We both want this to go well for our pet/brother.

I've always had difficulty with giving voice to my thoughts. It's different with those I'm comfortable with, but I'm typically content to let Phineas do the talking. But, in rare moments like this, when my sibling's thoughts jumble to the point where they block off his vocal cords, I will gladly take the reins.

I clear my throat and fold my hands on the table. "There is something my brother and I have been keeping from you."

Three pairs of eyes lock on me, though Candace is staring harder than our parents. Perry warned us that our sister would likely assume his anthropomorphic state was my and Phineas's doing. I love Phineas dearly, but reading the room has never been his strong suit. Yet, it still stuns me that he has yet to note our sister's dislike of our inventions. Candace's actions are born of love and the need to protect, so I try not to let it get to me.

I do wish Mother could see our work just once, if only to validate Candace's fears. Heaven knows what the consequences of getting "busted" would be, but I'd take that over my sister losing her mind the way she does. I hate upsetting my sister, but I'd hate to disappoint my friends and brother as well.

That's why Phineas does the talking. I wish it was as easy for me to be so open about my thoughts and feelings. I suppose the trade-off is that I'm more perceptive.

One of many reasons why we make a great team.

Now, to be a team player. "It's in regards to our pet platypus. He is, shall we say, not quite the way he appears."

"Sit down, Candace," Mother scolds when Candace leans forward with her arms propping her upright on the table.

A hand rests on my leg and gives it a gentle squeeze. Phineas flashes a grateful smile at me before he finds his voice. "Mom. Dad. Candace. The truth is that Perry isn't a normal platypus. He's actually… He's a secret agent."

Candace is sitting down as instructed, but I swear she just stopped breathing.

Mother and Father, however, glance at each other in amusement. "A secret agent, you say?" Father asks with a humoring grin. "Is that why he disappears all the time?"

Oblivious as ever, Phineas chimes, "Yes. Yes, it is."

Mother giggles. "I'll never get tired of your imaginations, boys!"

Candace glares at our mother. "You realize that if they say Perry is a secret agent, then he actually is a secret agent. Wait!" my sister gasps suddenly. "Is this a confession? Are we getting a confession?!"

Mother fixes her with a warning look. "Oh, Candace, let your brothers have fun."

"But, Mom," Phineas argues, "we're telling the truth! And, we have proof! I'll get- Oh. Ferb's gonna get Perry," he corrects, as I have already gotten out of my seat. "While he does that, I'd like you guys to read this."

I don't need to look back to know that my brother is passing along Perry's "So, You've Discovered Your Pet is a Secret Agent" pamphlet.

Said secret agent isn't waiting behind the wall where we'd left him. Instead, I find him on the far end of the living room. He is facing away from me and speaking to someone through his personal cell.

Perry is speaking so quietly that I likely wouldn't hear him at all if I hadn't left the kitchen. I shouldn't eavesdrop, but his half of the conversation sounds serious enough that I can't help it. "And, that's exactly why we're doing this. I know they've saved all our lives, but the ends don't justify the means."

He pauses for a spell while the other person responds.

"Ivy, keep in mind that they are desecrating corpses! And, stuffing pieces of our fallen agents into other animals." Perry's voice shakes, and he takes a moment to compose himself and listen to what this "Ivy" is saying.

A harsh shiver ravages me. Perry faces off against some truly awful people. Fighting Dr. D must feel like a vacation to him!

A jolt shoots through me when I remember that Perry's father passed away a few days ago. If someone is…doing that to fallen agents, could they be doing the same to the body of Perry's father?

I could never, ever do what Perry does.

"You're still kind of new in the agency," Perry goes on, "so let me give you some advice. There are times when you have to let yourself be a little evil in order to make things right. I promise you, this will be worth it in the end. I won't allow any other outcome. That being said, I understand if you wanna back out. No hard feelings." Perry listens again then nods. "Alright. Tomorrow night. Midnight in the nose cave. We'll see you then."

We? These evildoers must be as wicked as they sound if Perry is working with a whole team to stop them. I wonder if these evildoers are the same ones who captured the agent Perry gave the ninja suit to.

Quiet as a mouse, I sneak back a few steps while Perry hangs up the phone and stows it away. As he turns around, I walk over to him as though I have just arrived and heard nothing. He buys it; I take pride in my ability to remain undetectable.

I offer him my hand. He takes it, and I give his hand a squeeze when I feel it trembling in mine. Whether his nerves are from his upcoming mission, whatever is about to happen in our kitchen, or a combination of the two, I can't say. I start to walk with him, but he doesn't budge, only stares into space with his shoulders hunched and his free hand curled into a fist at his side.

"You don't have to do this, you know," I assure him. "Our brother and I can play it off as some sort of game."

Perry looks like he wants us to do just that, but he takes a deep breath and says with a steely resolve, "Let's blow up the planet."

I squeeze his hand again, and we walk into the kitchen. Four sets of eyes lock on us, and Perry's hand trembles harder in my grasp.

Father is the first to speak. "Well, I'll be darned."

Perry forces a too-wide grin and waves his other trembling hand. His voice quakes just as much. "Hi, everyone. N-nice to…m-meet you."

Candace springs out of her seat and rushes behind Mother's chair and clamps her hands down on Mother's shoulders. "You're seeing this, right, Mom? You're seeing this?"

Mother blinks several times. "Are-are you telling me Phineas and Ferb did that?"

"Actually," Phineas chimes in, "we had nothing to do with it."

Candace claps her hands and lets out a triumphant whoop. "You hear that, Mom? They had nothing to do with- Wait, what? What do you mean you had nothing to do with it?"

"I mean exactly what I said." Phineas hops off the chair to stand on Perry's other side. He gestures to our pet with a flourish. "Thanks to the genetic enhancements the O.W.C.A. gave to Perry's father, as I explained, Perry was born awesome!

Perry ducks his head with a shy, wavering smile. I squeeze his hand again. He squeezes back, still shaking.

Father chuckles and rubs his chin, observing our pet in a new light. "My word. Will wonders never cease?" He purses his lips then frowns. "But, that pamphlet said that if we know about this, then Perry has to leave."

"Yeah," Phineas says with poorly-hidden sadness. "Perry told us that he just couldn't take lying anymore."

"He told you?" Mother gasps. "He can talk?"

Phineas chuckles. "No, but his handwriting is really nice. We think it'll be okay so long as nobody says anything to anybody. Perry's secret identity has to stay between us."

I nod.

Perry lets out a breath that is somewhat reminiscent of a sob as he lifts his head to turn his damp, pleading brown eyes on our family members. Was he this afraid when he told me and Phineas? I was so stunned at the time that I didn't notice, but looking back, I believe he was.

"Well, of course it stays between us!" Father announces, allowing me to release the breath I didn't know I was holding. Father bends over in his chair and reaches to ruffle Perry's head fur. "We wouldn't want to lose the old boy now, would we?"

Perry's trembling is starting to lessen.

"Mom?" Phineas prompts.

Mother blinks out of her stupor. "This is, um…different. But, he's still our pet. Uh, should-should I be calling him our pet?"

Perry nods, an action that catches Mother off-guard. It's going to take time for them to start addressing Perry directly and expecting an intelligent response from him.

Phineas turns to our sister. "What about you, Candace? You're okay with this, right?"

Candace scoffs and waves dismissively. "Please. Like this is the weirdest thing that's ever happened around here. Since Perry's weirdness wasn't caused by you two, these lips are thoroughly sealed."

Suddenly, Perry drops to his knees. He is held upright only by my grip on his hand tightening on instinct. Phineas grabs our pet's other arm and asks frantically, "Perry? What's wrong, boy?"

"Dear me!" Father gasps. "Is he alright?"

Perry chuckles dazedly.

A soft smile pulls at my lips. "He was a mite nervous about this."

Phineas grins in a way that betrays his own anxiety about the situation as he rubs Perry's back. "But, it's all over now, Perry. No more secrets in our family."

Perry clenches his bill and nods as two tears slip down his face.

"Well, if he is a…secret agent," Mother says, still processing this, "then I'm sure he can't tell us everything."

"Yeah," Phineas agrees. "But, the big stuff is out in the open. Ferb made a questionnaire regarding his likes and dislikes. We can bring it out for you guys-"

"Wait a minute," Candace says suddenly. "Perry, does this mean that all those times I called you an ugly, smelly meat brick and told you to get away from me, you not only knew what I was saying…you also comprehended it?"

Perry stares at her for a moment before offering her a shrug and very sheepish grin.

It takes all four of us to pry Perry out of the arms of a sobbing and apologetic Candace.

"Sorry I froze up on you, Ferb."

I place a reassuring hand on Phineas's shoulder. My brother and I are standing together in the living room both to give the rest of our family some one-on-one time with "Agent P" and because Phineas wanted to apologize. Unnecessarily so, I might add.

Phineas rubs his arm and gazes sadly at the carpet. "I guess it suddenly hit me how important this is to Perry," I suspected that was the issue, "and, I don't know… You're just better under pressure than I am."

"It's called covering your partner's weaknesses," I tell him. "Something you and I are well-versed with."

My brother relaxes in full. "Yeah. We make a good team."

We fist-bump just as the landline rings. Phineas jogs over to answer it. "Flynn-Fletcher residence. Phineas speaking. … Oh, hi, Isabella! … Really? That's awesome! Hey, Ferb," my brother says to me. His eyes dart to the kitchen, and he lowers his voice. "Guess what. Pinky's a secret agent like Perry!"

Well, this is a revelation. I am now wondering how many other animals in Danville are secret agents. Though, I am concerned as to what Isabella knowing would mean for Pinky. Will the poor chihuahua have to be relocated now?

Phineas hears what I'm not saying. "Isabella says that Pinky confessed to her and her mom this morning. They're gonna keep Pinky's secret like we're keeping Perry's."

"I presume that the reason Isabella is telling us," I say, "is because Pinky informed her that we know about Perry?"

"Yep!" Phineas chirps. His enthusiasm fades in an instant as Isabella keeps talking. He is unusually somber when he says to her, "Sure. We'll be right over." He hangs up and says to me, "Isabella wants to talk to us about Pinky. It sounds pretty serious. We better get over there."

Phineas and I spend a few moments having a staring contest with an anthropomorphic Pinky, who gives us an awkward wave while Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro looks like she thinks she's dreaming all this. Isabella grabs my brother and I by the arms and drags us upstairs to her bedroom.

"So, your dog's a secret agent, huh?" Phineas says once the three of us are alone. "You know, Ferb made a get-to-know-you questionnaire for Perry when we found out about him. We can print you a blank copy if you-"

"Maybe later," Isabella says. "I'm still kind of processing all of this. I mean, Pinky's, you know, my dog! I've been petting him and taking him for walks and…bathing him! Ew! I've been bathing a grown man!"

That did occur to me in regards to Perry. I used to enjoying bathing my pet, but I'm hoping he'll start bathing himself from now on. Phineas and I already have plans to install a platypus-sized toilet and sink in the bathroom.

"I know what you mean," Phineas says to our friend. "It's a lot to take in. But, it's not like Pinky doesn't love or trust you."

"I know that," Isabella says. "Pinky explained the whole relocation/memory erasing thing. That's not what's bothering me. Well, okay, it does bother me. But, the thing I wanna talk to you about is why Pinky decided to tell me and Mom the truth."

Phineas and I share a glance, our minds ever linked. We're both thinking of Perry's note to us, in which he stated that his decision to embrace honesty came after we unknowingly comforted him during one of the lowest points of his life. Perry never told us what that point was, and we knew better than to ask, but I have to wonder if Pinky was in a similar mind frame.

Isabella wrings her hands and goes on with her mouth twisted in a deep grimace. "Pinky said that he was involved in a mission that he described as 'the most dangerous and completely insane thing he's ever done.' He told us because…he's worried he won't come out of it." Her voice starts shaking at this point. "He said he wants us to know the truth in case the worst happens."

A statement which emphasizes how dangerous the life of a secret agent can be. Mother is right about there being a lot of things Perry can't tell us, but I do wonder how many things he chooses not to tell us.

"Whoa," Phineas says. "That's heavy."

Isabella blinks back her tears and clenches her fists at her sides. "He even said he was going to work on this mission tomorrow night. And, he's going to be gone all night! I'm really scared, you guys. I don't wanna lose Pinky! Especially not now!"

Phineas starts to speak, but a recent memory causes me to interrupt. "You said he'd be gone tomorrow night?"

Two pairs of similarly colored blue eyes are on me now. "Yeah," Isabella confirms. "Why?"

"Don't tell Perry, but…"

I paraphrase the half of Perry's phone call that I heard. I watch my companions' expressions grow more and more horrified as I inform them that some dastardly beings are stealing the deceased bodies of OWCA agents and doing some sort of experiments with them in regards to other animals.

Isabella recovers from the shock first. "That's…that's horrible!"

"And, really gross, too," Phineas adds. "Do you think Pinky could be a part of Perry's team?"

I shrug since I don't know for certain, but the timing is rather convenient.

Isabella shivers. "If that is what Pinky's doing tomorrow, then it's no wonder he wouldn't tell me!"

I start to speak, but I notice that Phineas has that thinking look he gets right before deciding on the day's activity. I normally love that look, as it precedes fulfilling my passion for building and creating, but in this context, that look scares me.

His next words confirm that I have every right to be scared. "You know, it wouldn't take us long to build a couple of updated ninja suits."

Isabella leans back a little, as wary as I am. "What are you getting at?"

"Ferb and I already fixed up a ninja suit that avoids cameras and blocks the wearer's thermal signature," my brother says thoughtfully. "I bet we could add in scent blockers so none of the animal agents will be able to smell us coming."

"I don't know, Phineas," Isabella says, echoing my thoughts. "This sounds like something we should leave to the professionals."

Phineas holds up his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying we get involved with what Perry and Pinky and whoever else are doing. But, if something does happen, wouldn't it be better to know what's going on?"

He has a point. If our pets and brothers perished, it would destroy us, but it would destroy us even more if we hadn't the slightest inkling as to what happened to them. I don't like this, but if the alternative is losing Perry and never knowing why he was lost… I glance at Isabella and know that she is thinking the same thing about Pinky.

This could easily bite us in our rears, but after what I heard, I know I won't be able to sleep tomorrow night without at least thinking that Perry will be home in the morning.