Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s your first day at your new high school, you have just moved there from France. Summer vacation has just ended for the students, and they don’t seem pleased to be back, they don’t make eye contact with you, and when they do their eyes seem glazed over. You open your new locker, struggling with the locks. ‘ Ugh, these things are so old they barely move ’ you think to yourself. You look beside you and notice the boy with the locker alongside yours looks terrified. He is noticeably shaking, his eyes darting left and right as if scouting for danger. You don’t think much of it, who isn’t nervous on their first day?

You look back to what you were doing, unpacking your things into your locker. Suddenly the tone of the hallway shifts, it’s silent other than nervous murmurs from your classmates. You hesitate from your task, looking to see what caused this. The only change that had occurred was that one guy had jaunted into the hallway, but nobody is looking at him but you. Their gazes look to their feet, not daring to go up. You don’t though. You saw him.

You find him difficult to describe, his very nature a mystery to you. His shape is that of Humpty Dumpty, the egg from the fairy tails, but his demeanor is that of a small angry goblin, scrounging for food. He wears a black shirt with skulls on it, the symbolism of it evident to you. You make eye contact, time stops for a split second. And for that second, it seems as if the hallway has emptied and you and him are the only ones there. You don’t know what the feeling in your stomach is, dread? That would make the most sense.

Suddenly your brain pushes you back into the real world. You notice he’s walking over to the quivering boy who has the locker next to yours. Predator and prey. “Buford,” The boy sputters, looking down at the haunting menace that has just approached him. Buford , you think to yourself, that’s his name.

Buford snarls at the boy like a wild cat, the room is deafeningly silent after. You watch Buford’s hands. There’s something off about them. Suddenly you realize. They’re sharpening. Claws . People start slowly moving out of the room, you look side to side hoping to god that a teacher- someone- anyone will come and de-escalate the worsening situation, but it’s helpless.

And it’s over before you know it. The floor tiles are stained red in a matter of seconds. The boy’s locker swings open and closed from the force, and you back up, drenched in the vile liquid. Buford looks down at his work, emotionless. “That was the last straw, Phineus,” He says, his gravelling voice booms through the hallways. Small sobs break the silence as he leaves. The janitors arrive, holding back cries as they clean up the mess.

You’re pulled away from the scene by the nurse, your ears are ringing, you can’t believe what you’ve seen. A boy’s life was just whisked away in a matter of seconds as a room of people were left helpless as but to watch it happen. Suddenly you're pulled back to reality by a woman’s voice.

“Dear?” The nurse asks, shaking your shoulders a bit. She’s an older woman, slouched over with short, greying, curly hair. Her room smells like rubbing alcohol and sickness. “What’s your name? So I can call a guardian to come bring you home.”

You answer shakily, trying to retrieve yourself, “I’m y/n…” She nods and gives you an understanding pat on the shoulder, but soon wiping off the residue left stuck on her palms. “You’ll be home soon dear don’t you worry.” Her smile is comforting, but you can’t help but ponder, how often does this happen ? It can’t be this often can it? It’s only your first day. 

About half an hour later your father arrives to pick you up. The car ride home is silent, and you know that he knows. Your father has never been one to be open with trauma and emotions. He most likely just hopes you’ll get over it with time. Although, a counseling session has already been scheduled for you by the school. Tomorrow during homeroom. You lean against the car window, gazing out at the suburban scenery. Your 104 days of summer vacation could’ve never prepared you for this.

What did that kid... Phineas ...even do to deserve such a fate? And how was Buford not in prison by now if this was something expected of him? You just don’t understand. You think about it that night, staring up at your ceiling. You still have those LED stars from your childhood glued up there, although they hardly glow anymore. But the faint light does give you the leeway to see the blood still stuck under your fingernails. You want to throw up.

“How are you feeling this morning?” The counselor looks up at you from her laptop. There are posters on the walls about overcoming your trauma and “getting back up again.” It sickens you. “Bad,” you answer honestly. You just simply don’t want to be there. She nods and types something long into her laptop. How much could she get from just that? You’re already tired of this woman.

She has bright pink hair and circular black glasses that are never positioned right on her nose. Her entire room is painted an eye-bleeding neon yellow and there are baby duckling stickers all over her windows and magnets that say “Confidence is key!”

“Why does he still go here?” You finally ask. 

She looks up at you, tilting her head slightly, “What do you mean, hon?” 

You glare at her, tired of it. “What do I mean?!” You shout, “Why does that Buford kid still go to this school? He tore a kid to shreds right in front of me AND the whole school too. Everyone saw!”

She nods knowingly and closes her laptop, “That’s just how this school operates, hon. Nobody is left behind here. Everyone deserves equal opportunity to a quality education. And we are of the opinion that that is just what Buford Van Stomm needs to become a better person and live an overall better life.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. What kind of messed up dystopia is this? So you just have to deal with this? It’s not like you can go to another school. This entire area is just a suburban trap, no other schools within hours of the area. Just white picket houses upon white picket houses. Surrounding the town there’s nothing but blank desert for miles on end.

You’re sent back to class. You can’t pay attention. Your Chemistry teacher is going over his syllabus. And you can feel eyes burning into your skin. You know he’s there. You slowly turn to look. It’s him. Buford Van Stomm. He sits right behind you. Your heart sinks, you feel a pit in your stomach, you temporarily feel the breath leaving your lungs. You quickly turn back to look at your desk, trying not to panic. You figure as long as you don’t interact, everything should be fine. He won’t bother you. 

And this works for a time. Until one week later. Your chemistry teacher assigns lab partners. He uses one of those dreaded wheel-spin websites. Your name is one of the last to be called. There are only maybe five kids’ names left. And one of them is Buford’s. You can feel yourself holding your breath, along with the rest of the remaining kids. But odds are not in your favor. The wheel lands on your name. And then on Bufords. It feels like a death sentence. Even the Chemistry teacher realizes what this likely means for you, and he nods solemnly. All the other kids won’t look at you either, it’s like they don’t want to get too close. Like it’s contagious .

Buford looks at you, “You’ll be doing all the work.” You nod. He nods back emotionlessly and then the bell rings. You can’t wrap your mind around it. The kids stay a few feet away from you as they pile out, looking down at their tennis-shoes.

Chapter Text

You’re eating lunch alone, watching something on your phone, when someone appears behind you. A young man, maybe a year older than you, with a long square face and a patch of spiky green hair. He sits beside you in silence. “Uhm… hi.” You say awkwardly. He doesn’t respond back, he just nods. The silence continues like this until it is broken ten minutes later.

He has a surprisingly strong British accent, not what you were expecting. “I hear…” His voice is soft, “That you witnessed my brothers death and are now receiving counsel for it.” You look up at him. That boy- Phineas' brother. They look nothing alike, but you nod. “I did.”

“I am sorry you had to see that,” he continues, “But I would like your help in bringing justice to his demise. I want Buford to face repercussions. We can no longer sit back and watch our classmates be slaughtered.”

You’re amazed by his bluntness. But someone finally understands what you’ve been saying all along! You nod in agreement with him, “Yes! Of course I’ll help.” Ferb smiles - or tries to. He has a very small mouth. “Thank you.”

He explains his plan, “This will be very dangerous for you, so if you ever want to back out you, of course, may,” you nod, “The plan is simple, I want you to become friends with Buford. Perhaps more. Get close to him and collect evidence. I then use this evidence and send it to the police of outside cities. Somewhere with real law enforcement, real justice.” 

At the end of the day you shake hands. On your walk home you realize you have much in common with Ferb than many would realize. You both have been greatly affected by Phineas’ death, and you both burn with the desire for justice. You will make a remarkable team. You will avenge that boy’s death together.

“Energy has the same dimension as what…” You mumble to yourself. Buford is sitting next to you, looking at his phone. 

“Energy per unit volume,” He says without looking up, “That’s the answer.”

You look over at him, surprised, “Oh-” You say, “Thanks.” You’re confused, why would he want you to do the work if he knew the answers without even having to think about it? Maybe there was more to this situation than you thought. You then remember what Ferb said… try and get close to him. As close as possible.

“Wooowww,” You string out your words, “You’re pretty smart.”

“Did you think I’d be stupid?” He asks.

You pause, oh . You weren’t expecting that response, and his tone was so aggressive as well . “No no no!” You say, “I just wasn’t expecting you to be THAT smart y’know?” You giggle nervously and twirl your hair around your finger. This is the worst.

His eyes look away from you and back to his phone, “Okay then.” You feel some relief but you don’t know how to go on from there. “Uhm- I don’t think we’ll be able to finish this during class. Could I come over? Or maybe we could call or something?”

He stands up and pushes your desk over with a sudden burst of aggression. The room goes silent, people hold their breaths. “What is wrong with you?!” He yells out. You scoot away in your chair and then clumsily stand up, your heart racing. “No you can’t come to my house,” He spits, “Are you stupid or something? Why would you even ask that?!”

“I’m sorry!” You say. He runs out of the room in a storm of rage. Everyone’s eyes are on you. All of your stuff is scattered on the floor. You feel like a failure. How will I get close to him now ? You put your face in your hands as the school bell rings. You can still hear the whizz of his wheelys as he rolled out the door ringing in your mind.

You and Ferb sit at the lunch table, trying to come up with a plan B. You can’t help but feel guilty, his plan was perfect, but you were careless. Ferb sighs and looks over to you, “Well, there's no point wallowing in our suffering. It’s already been done and there’s nothing we can do about it. All we can do is try again, and I think I know how we can get this back on track.”

You’re standing in front of Buford’s locker, holding a small card and a bouquet of roses. Everyone around you is whispering and you're shifting your weight from foot to foot. They probably think you have a death wish, and you don’t blame them for that assumption. Ferb is watching you from the corner of his eye, waiting to give you the ‘He’s Coming’ signal. You wait there for a few more minutes when you finally get it. Ferb waves his pinky finger and walks away, leaving you to your own devices as Buford approaches.

“What is this?” He grunts.

You laugh nervously, “Well I wanted to apologize for yesterday, I didn’t mean to come on so strong!” His humpty-dumpty-esq face contorts into a scowl. You hurry to fix the situation, not wanting to let it escalate this time, “Hey! I just mean- I really do want to be your friend. I mean I’m sure nobody else wants to after the whole-- murder thing. But it’s all good with me!”

He doesn’t seem convinced. You shove the flowers and the card into his hands. “Haha! Anyways bye!” He’s still scowling and his bottom teeth are showing over his top ones. You speed walk away into the room Ferb was hiding in, the Storage. Ferb lets out a sigh of relief to see you haven’t been ripped to shreds, “Did it go well?”

You shrug, “Well… I’m not dead, but he also didn’t say anything good either.” 

Ferb nods in acknowledgment, “Well we can’t expect him to trust you first thing, y/n. He’s a serial killer after all. Make sure to remember that.”

You laugh, realizing what he’s suggesting, “Of course I’ll remember that! What do you think I’ll actually fall for Buford? Not in a million years. That guys a maniac!”

Ferb nods, “Well I was only making sure. You gaining actual feelings for him would surely put us off from our true goal. This must remain only an act.”

You’re walking through the halls of the school. It’s 6pm, the scheduled time for another meeting with Ferb. It’s been about a week since your last and not much progress has been made, so you’re hoping for some good news. You pull the door to the storage room open and walk in, you see Ferb sitting at the makeshift table you’d constructed out of cardboard boxes… and someone else? It’s a girl, she has dark brown hair that goes down to her shoulders and a black jumpsuit on. You sit at the table as Ferb introduces her to you.

“Y/N, this is my girlfriend, Vanessa Doofenshmirtz,” Vanessa holds out a hand and you shake it, “She’ll be helping us with our investigation into Buford.”

“Doofenshmirtz?” You say, “Are you related to the engineering teacher?”

She nods, “Yeah, that’s my dad.”

You’re surprised, you can’t really see the resemblance. Mr. Doofenshmirtz was a gangly old man with an inhumanly triangle-shaped head who spoke in riddles. And so far, Vanessa was fairly normal looking and spoke normal english.

Ferb continues, “She will be assisting me in building a machine that will allow us to contact authorities from the outside world. It will be a difficult task, so I figured the daughter of Doofenshmirtz could surely assist. I’d ask the man himself, but I’m afraid he’s much too senile at this point to even consider it. Our plan would surely be outed to the rest of our peers if we told him.” 

Ferb and Vanessa lead you behind the school to an old tornado cellar. The room is wet and damp and moist and humid and every other word that could be used to describe a place that is extremely unpleasant for humans but an absolute breeding-buffet-extravaganza for every kind of horrifying insect to exist. But you seem to be the only one there at all bothered by the conditions. Vanessa idly reaches over your head and pulls a string coming down from the roof.

The lights flicker on as she pulls away, and her arm slightly brushes against your back. “Well here’s how far we’ve gotten with the communication device,” She says, walking over to stand next to a large machine stationed in the center of the room. It’s about twice Vanessa’s height and it looks like no device you’ve ever laid eyes on before. It’s shape is unique in of itself, it twists and curves and jabs out and spikes at random. Red and green lights blink on what looks to be a control pad and there seems to be a screen in-the-making at the top.

A “wow,” escapes your lips and Vanessa smiles. Ferb is looking through his tools and she steps over him to come stand next to you. “Don’t be so impressed yet,” She says, “It’s not even usable yet. I’d say it’s only 10% completed, and at our current rate it may not be done for some time. Especially with that screen- we just can’t seem to make that thing work .” She has an annoyed edge in her voice when she speaks that makes you smile, “Oh,” you laugh awkwardly.

In an attempt to fill the silence you say, “So… Doofenshmirtz taught you all of this?” 

“Ah,” She grins, “Sort of. I suppose that would be surprising to hear about him. That he can actually teach. But yeah, he did--when I was younger I mean. He’s rather senile now though. With his riddles and stuff.”

“Oh,” You say, regretting bringing up such a solemn topic, “I’m sorry about that.”

“No it’s fine, it’s kinda funny to talk to him now anyways. And I’m glad I got to learn from him back when he was sane,” She laughs and does an accurate impression of him, “I am transparent, sparkling and shiny. I am smooth, sleek and stylish.I am tiny and delicate. I fit only one fair maiden in the land. Who AM I?”

The school is already buzzing when you arrive the next morning. Kids are sniffling in corners and pushing you every which way to try and get to the exit. When you finally escape the mob you let out a sigh of relief. You spot Ferb and jog over to him, “What’s going on?” 

Ferb looks down at you with a solemn expression, “Buford.” 

You give him an understanding gaze, “Who was it this time?” 

“Doofenshmirtz.”

You are sitting on the floor in a girls bathroom stall, your arms wrapped around your knees while Ferb sits across from you in a similar position, trying to make room in the cramped space. 

“I just don’t understand,” He sighs, rubbing his tired eyes, “Buford has never killed two people in such a short time span. I mean-- less than a month?! I know you haven’t been here very long but it’s unheard of. And nobody even knows what provoked him this time, he just attacked. At least Buford and Phineas had a history but Doofenshmirtz…”

His ramble faded and he took a breath. You pat him on the hand, “Have you spoken with Vanessa?”

“No,” He sighs, “I wouldn’t even know what to say. This is a mess. What if she gets too depressed to work on the machine? Then our plan is over. I can’t make that thing by myself! I don’t have half the technical knowledge Vanessa does… god and I’m a jerk for even being worried over that and not Vanessa…”

“I can talk to her for you!” You say it without thinking, but Ferb’s gaze when he looks back up at you is so hopeful that you won’t dare take it back.

Soon you find yourself in the counselor’s office once again. Everything is exactly how you’d left it the previous two weeks before, god- she was even sitting in the exact same position, eerie.

“Welcome back Mr/Ms (Y/N). I’m hoping you’ve had a lovely day so far,” She smiles a wide smile that shows all of her perfectly straight, bright white, too-long teeth. You notice she’s almost…inhuman looking.

“Well considering the engineering professor got torn to shreds and the school was in shambles the second I showed up- no. My day hasn’t been lovely, actually.”

She waves her hand and laughs like somethings funny, “Oh you’re such a silly (boy/girl/whatever) you aren’t really that upset over such a trivial thing are you? Maybe that’s why you’re always so unhappy during our meetings. You let the small things get to you. Let me tell you young (lady/man) in a few years you’ll forget aaaallll about this. In the long run nothing matters after all!”

“Wow, I’ve never seen nihilism framed in such a happy light before,” You say sarcastically, “And what do you mean ‘small’ he’s dead! He was a teacher and father!”

“Hon,” She says, “He was scheduled to be let off from work soon enough, all of his riddles were getting much too confusing for the rest of us to decipher! So don’t be so glum!”

You push your chair backwards with the backs of your legs and stand up with an aggressive expression on your face, “Are you insane?! Just because he wasn’t going to teach anymore doesn’t mean he had to die! If you keep letting Buford get away with this, soon the whole school will be dead!”

An eerie silence fills the room. All you can hear is the gentle squeaking of the counselor’s seat as she slowly stands up. You’d never seen her in full before. You see now that she’s a rather short woman, maybe a head below you, and she has prosthetic legs. You look down to meet her gaze and are surprised to not see her well-known smile, but to see a threatening glare.

“Listen,” She whispers, “You do not want to keep questioning the rules. They are here for a reason. If you continue on like this, we will launch a full investigation into you, your personal life, and your past. You will never go another day unmonitored in your life. And if that doesn’t work, and trust me when I say this, child, you will be granted a much worse fate than even Buford himself could imagine.”

The bell rings, indicating the end of your session. She sits back down and smooths out the wrinkles in her satin dress, fixing her hair so it sits neat, “Have a lovely day, hon.”

You walk down the road holding a note in your hand. 657 Yellow Street. Vanessa’s home address, given to you by Ferb. 655...656...657- ah!--You’ve found it. The house is to say the least- very unique compared to all the rest. Surrounding it were hundreds of copy-paste white suburban-nuclear homes. But 657 was a giant purple tower that seemed as though it held endless floors. But despite its size and prominence on the street, the tower was dilapidated and seemingly uncared for. The metal doors were rusting over. The purple paint was chipping off. A giant metal sign hung above the doors on one nail- threatening to fall at any second with its creaking. The sign read, “Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated.” 

Before you can knock you notice Vanessa walking down the sidewalk, she must’ve been out, and she’s just now returning home. You give her a small smile and a wave to greet her as she approaches.

She’s holding a bag of groceries. “Want me to help with those?” You ask, already taking them in your arms. She smiles and doesn’t protest, holding the large doors open for you. The inside is only slightly less unkempt than the outside, dust covers every shelf and the carpet seems to have not been cleaned in perhaps a decade, but it smells absolutely lovely. Like vanilla and strawberries.

You set the grocery bag down on what looks to be a dining-room table. Vanessa sidles up beside you, “So, why are you here?” Her voice is interrogative, but she’s smiling.

You hesitate, “Well… I thought you might not want to be alone after this morning.”

Her smile doesn’t falter, “Oh alright.”

You spend the rest of the evening sitting on Vanessa’s couch watching movies and chatting about surprisingly normal things. You’re laying upside down on her couch, your head hanging off the side as she sits on the floor. “So what’s up with… y’know… the tower,” You finally ask. Vanessa looks at you and responds, “Ah, right. That’s probably kinda confusing for you.” She sits up a bit.

“We used to have a normal house before. But freshman year I came home and he’d bulldozed the whole thing. I think that was the first crazy thing he really did. He was plotting to become some kind of evil mastermind and invent devices that would destroy the town and stuff. He thought this place was cursed. But pretty soon after the tower was built he started talking in riddles… and now we’re here.”

She’s staring up at the ceiling now, “We only ever lived in the first two floors. I know dad did stuff on the other floors but I never looked, I guess I’ll have to now… maybe Ferb will help… or you. Either way I’ll have to sort through all the god-knows-what he put up there. I’m hoping maybe after everything is all cleared I’ll be able to move to a different house.”

The room is silent for a few seconds until you fill the void with a question, “Why did your dad think the town was cursed?”

Vanessa smiled a bit, “He would always go on and on about how the government wouldn’t let us leave and how if we said anything against them we’d get absolutely ‘crucified.’ I was born here, so I don’t know what the outside is like- or if there even is an outside, but he always used to tell me about it. Snow, beaches, cities, the country-”

You cut her off, “What do you mean the government won’t let us leave?!”

You grab a bottle of glue from the bin and pull a pair of scissors out of your pencil case. Buford is looking at you from the corner of his eye, pretending to stare at his phone like he usually does. You begin cutting out pictures and gluing them to the posterboard, trying your best to ignore it but, Jesus Christ, he is the creepiest looking creature to ever exist.

Surprisingly enough, Buford has become an even more unsettling sight in the previous few days. A few of his teeth have rotted out and his eyes bulge from his face. His hair is tangled and he looks as if he hasn’t washed in ages. When he speaks-which is rare- the words come out gravelly, as if he’d been smoking for 50 years. You’d ask him what had happened if you weren’t absolutely horrified by the sight and presence of him.

Your project is almost complete, and whilst you are  relieved to be done with it, you realize you aren’t even close to being as good enough friends with Buford as you’re supposed to be. You sigh and think to yourself. Maybe you could try and use his newfound suffering as an ice-breaker? Well- you have to do something, and that seems as good as any other plan.

You scoot a bit closer to him in your chair (you’d been as far away from him as possible previously to try and escape the odor radiating from the guy) and turn to face him. “Hey, are you doin’ okay?”

He looks at you with a blank expression, “What.”

` “Well you don’t seem as--uhm--alive as you usually are, and I got a bit worried about you. I know we’re not friends per-say but I would like to know that you’re doing alright.”

Good start; he’s not yelling yet. “Oh,” he mumbles, “I’m fine. They just did a mandatory house cleaning at my place a few days ago. It’s rough.”

“Mandatory house cleaning?”

You sit wide-eyed listening to Ferb explain to you what a “mandatory house cleaning” entails. He speaks casually, as if it’s nothing, “They pick the next family at random so you can be picked two weeks in a row if you’re really unlucky. But basically at some point, with no warning, your house gets filled with salt water while you and all of your belongings are still inside. Then it’s drained and then the process repeats over and over for 24 hours or until the government determines whether or not your house is clean enough.”

The more you know.

Chapter Text

It’s been over a month since Phineas’ murder. Outside it’s pouring rain, muddy sludge washing over the sidewalk. Inside, you sit with a small group of mourners. They all pay a large resemblance to Phineas, other than Ferb and another girl your age. She’s sitting by a window, solemnly staring at the clouds. 

She’s slightly shorter than you, she has a short black dress on, matching her long hair. You stride over to Ferb and tap on his shoulder. “Who is that? She doesn’t look related.”

“Oh, that’s Isabella, Phineas’ girlfriend. She’s taken his death pretty hard, from what I’ve heard, but I haven’t spoken to her since.”

You nod and look back to the girl, wondering whether or not you should approach her, when a young boy runs into the room looking distressed. Everyone in the room turns around to look at him. “Baljeet?” Ferb asks, looking as confused as you do. The boy-Baljeet- is hunched over at the doorway, trying to find his breath, when he staggers over to Ferb.

That’s when you notice the gash in his stomach. Blood is running down his shirt and you can see it's obviously a stab wound, and a severe one. Ferb catches the boy in his arms, the gore imprinting onto his dress suit. You watch in horror as Baljeet chokes on his words, desperately trying to pull a message across before his inevitable demise. 

At this point, a crowd gathers around him. You and Ferb are pressed together by the group of people, and Baljeet is lying in his arms. His eyes are slightly rolled back and he’s convulsing slightly. This definitely couldn’t be just a stab wound.

“I-I told… I saw.. I kne…” His voice trails off and his eyes roll back fully. Ferb shakes him furiously, “Baljeet?!” Finally an adult, his mother, pulls Ferb away from the graphic scene. Next thing you know an ambulance has already arrived at the funeral home. You're being pulled away by a paramedic and they’re asking you questions but you don’t quite understand what they are. 

You notice Isabella seated next to you, no longer being questioned. She’s wide eyed and unblinking, almost as if she was paralyzed from the shock. Drool rolls down her lips, and that’s when you realize. She’s dead too.

There's a needle sticking out of her arm. You’d assume it was self inflicted, but it was placed somewhere she wouldn’t be able to place it herself. Poisoned.

Chapter Text

Ferb wakes up in a small padded room with a glass door stationed on the opposing side. He looks down to see his clothes have been changed while he was unconscious. He’s now wearing what seems to be plain white nurse scrubs. He uncomfortably looks at his reflection in the glass door. He has dark bags under his eyes and his green hair is unkempt. He runs his hands through it, feeling the coarseness and sighs as it slides back down to his side.

Suddenly a woman appears at the doorway. Her figure is slightly distorted by the glass but Ferb can make out by her bright pink hair that it’s the school counselor. She’s wearing a fluffy yellow dress and she has her face pushed against the glass, peering inside with her jet black eyes wide open. He looks down and notices the clipboard resting in her arms.

An arm reaches out behind her and causes her to stumble in slightly into the room. Ferb looks up and sees that the arm belongs to Principal Lang. His eyebrows raise in slight surprise. It wasn’t common to see Principal Lang. Most days he would only speak through the loudspeaker or yell at distressed parents through the doorway to his office. But today he was standing out in the open.

The counselor laughs and dusts herself off cheerily with no response to the Principal’s obvious distaste for her, Principal Lang makes no signs of amusement, and he crouches down in front of Ferb to look him in the eyes. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Ferb chooses not to respond, instead looking at the white padded ground below him. The Principal’s eyebrows furrow with frustration. “You just couldn’t make this easy could you? Well…we know about what you’ve been doing,” He stands back up and looks down menacingly at Ferb, “We launched a small investigation into your friend (Y/N) after they had a…concerning interaction with the counselor here.”

Ferb hides his disappointed expression, why wouldn’t (Y/N) have told him if something had happened? This was a disaster. Suddenly, the counselor chips back in with her cheery tone, “Well Ferb, I’m sure you know what must come next. We have a 0 tolerance policy for treason at this school. I know you’re upset because of your brothers passing, but dear me- I never expected this from you!”
Ferb glares up at her, finally showing emotion, “Who all did you catch? And why did Isabella and Baljeet have to pay the price for something they were never involved in?!”

The counselor begins to speak but Lang interrupts her instead, “Baljeet listened in on our meeting about what we should do with you three-(you, (Y/N), and Vanessa that is) and we worried he would inform you. Unfortunately this caused our abduction of you to be premature. We were hoping to sneak in when you were all together, and there would be no witnesses. But well- we had no choice but to destroy all evidence. That evidence including Isabella and your family.”
A silence fills the room for a solid minute, until the counselor’s voice fills the void, “Well!” She claps her hands together happily, “Ferb, hon, I reckon you should enjoy your final hours!” She giggles,”Lord knows you don’t have many left!”

Principal Lang nods with a stoic expression and leads the counselor out of the cell with his arm around her waist. Ferb sits with a grim expression plastered on his face. His mind swirls around one all encompassing concept; He is going to die.
And soon.

You’ve been trapped in this god-forsaken place for what feels like an eternity. No windows. No clocks. The only things you can see out of are the glass door at the end of your prison and a vent coming out of the ceiling that occasionally blows moist humid air into your cell. Yesterday included one of those occasions, so the room is foggy and you can feel the sweat dripping off your skin and soaking into the padded flooring.

In the beginning- however long ago that was- you were offered at least the small luxury of clean water and bread. But at this point all you have is a rusted metal pot in the corner of your room, filled with odorous water, a small patch of mold growing at the surface. The little food you get is stale. In the beginning you were too scared to eat it, believing there may be poison. But eventually desperation took over. At this point you wish they had been poisoned.

You now know what the counselor meant about receiving “a fate worse than Buford could even imagine.” Because this was nothing like the deaths you’d witnessed. Those deaths had been cruel and unforgiving, gruesome even. But at least those had come and gone swiftly, leaving hardly enough time for the victims to think before their doom. No time for panic or regret. But this, this was torture. You had all the time to think of what you’d done. How this was your fault.

You’re coughing into your quivering hands, the wheezes echoing in the enclosed space. You gasp for breath, feeling drained. That moment is when you hear a familiar voice. It’s coming from above you. You want to look up and catch her eye but your entire body is telling you no. You hear the squeaking of metal scraping against metal. You feel yourself dizzying. And that’s when it goes black.

Vanessa is dragging (Y/N)’s body through the tight vents, huffing to herself. The alarms had already gone off by that point, and she hadn’t expected (Y/N) to be unconscious by the time she got there. For Christ’s sake it had only been two days. But she couldn’t dawdle on those thoughts now, soon enough the guards would realize that (Y/N) had been rescued through the vents.

She drags on the limp body for another ten minutes before finally reaching an exit. But guards are already waiting for her. Along with Principal Lang. They all hold powerful weapons, pointed straight at her. She smirks, knowing she’d prepared for this moment long ago. Principal Lang takes a step toward her. A foolish move.
Vanessa holds up one hand, and the sound of someone- or something quickly approaching can be heard through the vents. It’s loud enough that it shakes the floor the guard’s stand on. Principal Lang looks up to see the cause but by then it’s too late.

Buford Van Stomm has wrestled him to the ground and is absolutely tearing him to shreds, the guards watch in horror and shoot at the beast. The bullets have no effect, they bounce right off of him. Once he’s done with Lang he whips his head around to the terrified guards, his mouth foaming as he stands on his hands and knees above his previous meal.

Vanessa smiles and runs out the doors with (Y/N) in her arms.

You wake up the next day, drowsy and dehydrated. You pull your arms over your face, relishing in the temporary darkness while you can, until you hear Vanessa’s voice. “Ah you’ve woken up.” She tosses a bottle of water over to you, not realizing your arms are too weak to catch it. The bottle hits you in the face straight on- but she doesn’t apologize, she just snorts.

You drearily look around the room you’ve found yourself in. You don’t recognize it. It’s more technologically advanced than anything you’d seen in the suburbia previously. Vanessa recognizes your confusion and she smiles, “Ah, this is Perry’s lab.”

You raise a brow, “Perry?”

She nods, “Yep. He’ll be here shortly. He’s a detective from the outside. We managed to contact one before Ferb and your abduction. I think he’ll be of great use to us. First he’ll help us get Ferb back. Then-” She claps her hands together, “Boom! We’ll have half the town arrested and put to justice!”

She seems confident. “Is he really that good?” You ask, “You don’t seem nervous about it all.” She scoffs slightly, “We don’t have time to be nervous anymore! This isn’t just about Buford like it was in the beginning. This is about the whole town. Buford was nothing in comparison. You’ve seen it first hand! You were halfway dead after only two days in their custody!”

Two days.