Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Aaaaah, Perry the Platypus." The lanky man smirked evilly, putting his spoon into his yogurt cup. "How do you like my literary trap? I got the idea while I was reading some old books."

"Chrrrrrr," chrrrred the teal platypus, glowering from behind the bookcases surrounding him.

"Come now, Perry the Platypus, you're quite fortunate. There's plenty of classics here, like... uh... War and Peace, Pride and Prejudice, Crime and Punishment... Wow, there are a lot of And titles here, aren't there?" The man ran a finger along the spines. "Spice and Wolf? I don't even read japanese! How'd that get there? Uh... Well, the point is, you have a lot of reading material right now. You should be grateful, Perry the Platypus, not everyone has access to such a wealth of knowledge!"

Perry gave him a flat look.

"...Yes, yes, I know it's not really that much of a positive." The man sighed, putting a yogurt cup on a nearby table and leaning against it. "It's all relative, you know? Being captured is an inconvenience, and getting books doesn't really improve the situation. But hey, you're a secret agent that almost always beats your nemesis and has a really cool fedora. Me, I'm just an evil scientist trying to take over the Tri-State Area with high-tech devices. Or fixing moderate problems with high-tech devices. Or getting revenge with high-tech devices. Or trying to be a good dad." He paused, thoughtfully. "Hmm. Should I use more high-tech devices for that?"

"Chrrrrrrr."

The man nodded. "Yeah, I guess you've got a point. What I'm saying is that this whole evil scientist thing? It's tiring, after a while. I mean how many times have you foiled my schemes so far? It's gotta be... like, a lot. I don't know, I don't have the actual calendar transcripts in front of me. It gets to me sometimes, just... all those defeats, all that struggle, all the trials in my life... yeah. It's like I'm fate's plaything. Sometimes I feel like it's pointing and laughing at me. 'Hahaha, there's Heinz Doofenshmirtz, let's see what funny trauma he can suffer this time!' It's just... aggravating, Perry the Platypus. SO frustrating."

Perry nodded sympathetically, subtly taking the books off the shelves surrounding him.

"So I decided to flip the script! Instead of fate pointing and laughing at me, I'm going to point and laugh at fate! Or, you know, somebody who metaphorically represents fate. Buuuut then I decided that was waaaaaay too difficult, so I figured I'd find somebody who has it worse than me and point and laugh at them, instead. But where would I find anybody like that? They're not likely to live in Danville, or Drusselstein, or anywhere on the planet. And then... it hit me!" Doofenshmirtz frowned. "Rather literally, actually, I was going through some old project files, and a box of paperwork fell on my head."

Doofenshmirtz smirked evilly and pulled a remote out of his labcoat, pressing the button with a flourish that knocked the yogurt cup on the ground. "BEHOLD, MY OTHER-DIMENSIONINATOR!" he cried as a spotlight switched on, illuminating the machine behind him. "Slightly modified, I swapped out the self-destruct for a targeting system, and rotated the portal aperture device by a third. Turns out it's more energy-efficient to pull in objects than to do that whole portal-opening thing!" He paused. "I think. I don't actually remember ever using this. Which is weird, because the paperwork says I built it before..."

Perry shiftily avoided meeting his eyes.

"With this machine, I will search the multiverse for somebody whose life is worse than mine! Then I will bring them here, point at them, and laugh! AHAHAHAHAHAAAA! Finally, I won't be the butt of fate's constant evil jokes!"

"Chrrrrrrr," Perry pointed out.

"What? No! It'll be hilarious! I mean," Doofenshmirtz frowned, "unless their life is so bad that it's not funny. I guess that could happen." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll help them out then. Oh! And they'll be so grateful they'll be willing to help me out in my plans to take over the Tri-State Area! It's a win-win! Now, let's see what poor sod has a life worse than mine!"

He spun on his heel, cackling maniacally--

"OH!" His foot stopped in mid-air. "Ha! I nearly stepped on that yogurt cup, did you see that Perry the Platypus? I should pick this up and put it in the trash. I don't want to go slipping around and accidentally messing up any delicate electronics, after all." The evil scientist picked up the yogurt cup and dropped it in a trash can. "There. Now where was I... oh right! I was about to summon somebody to laugh at!"

Doofenshmirtz took one step forward, slipped on a pencil, and flailed wildly as he fell toward the Other-Dimensioninator. His head slammed against the controls, pushing a slider to the maximum before he caught himself on the activation button.

"Oh. Huh." The evil scientist looked up at the machine as it began to glow ominously. "Wow, that's... not necessarily a bad thing. Let's see, what's the input say... oh!" He looked over his shoulder at Perry. "Yeah, we should shut our eyes. You know. Before we go blind from the imminent city-wide flash. I don't think it'll be permanent, mind you, it's just a really big flash, you know, like a camera or--"

A blinding flash of green-white light burst out from the machine, flying through the walls and across the entire city with a shriek of agony helpfully provided by Doofenshmirtz.

"AAAAAAAAAAEWAGH! OW! Oh god! I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!" The doctor rubbed at his eyes. "Gotta blink away the black floaty things..."

Perry sidled out of the bookshelf, taking off the sunglasses he was wearing and putting them back in his fedora. He looked to the machine warily, wondering just what that flash of light portended...

Taylor Hebert opened the front door, and stared out at an unfamiliar street.

"Uh, Dad? I don't think we're in Brockton Bay anymore..."

Chapter Text

"Alright." Director Emily Piggot sighed, arranging the files in front of her and looking at the various capes assembled at the table. "Let's get this over with. At approximately 1643 hours, the entirety of the city was enveloped in a bright greenish-white light which caused temporary blindness that thankfully faded after an average of ten seconds. Another effect of the light was Brockton Bay's apparent transportation to Danville, a city in the northwestern part of America. This should have been a devastating transition for both cities--car crashes, incompatible infrastructure, that sort of thing--but by all reports Brockton Bay slotted into Danville without any serious logistical issues."

"Convenient," noted Assault.

"Suspiciously so," the director agreed. "Especially since mounting evidence suggests we're no longer on our own Earth."

Triumph stiffened. "What? How can you know that?"

"I was outside when the transition happened," Velocity told him. "Took a look around while I was heading back, and... there are unfamiliar brands, and familiar brands don't exist. There seem to be parahuman equivalents here and there, but they're much rarer, and there's no PRT. And, well..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Everyone seems to have four fingers on their hands. Not five, like we do."

"It's an initial assessment, but not one without merit," the director said. "Triumph, as soon as this meeting is over, I'm going to send you to your father's office out of costume. Our short-term goal is to recover from the transition, preferably without upsetting the locals, and that means making sure Roy gets in contact with the local government and smooths over ruffled feathers."

Triumph swallowed. "Y-yes ma'am. Uh... if the streets have changed--"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out." Director Piggot folded her hands together. "This situation was no accident--the transition was far too clean for it to be--but whoever brought us here is clearly trained in long-term subversive techniques if they were able to hide their operations from us for so long."

"Or possibly a local," Assault pointed out.

"Also possible," Director Piggot conceded. "But that doesn't change much. Our long-term goal is to find out who did this, how, and how we can get back to Earth Bet. We'll be coming up with a strategy for that in the coming weeks, but first: damage reports. Armsmaster?"

"The transition did cause some network issues at headquarters and on the rig," the man in blue power armor stated. "Surprisingly minor, given the total disconnect from Earth Bet's power grid, but rebooting the computer systems and hooking them up to the local networks will likely take a few days. Assuming that it's even allowed by the locals... or that nothing else crops up." He paused. "Dragon's own armor suffered a similar disconnect, but she assures me that it'll be functional within the hour. Her primary concern at the moment is her disconnect from the Guild network."

"Hopefully they'll be able to handle things without her in the interim," Dauntless muttered. "I don't like wondering what'll happen if the Birdcage broke down."

"She assures me that her responsibilities should be handled by backup programming she put in place." Armsmaster glanced at a clipboard in his hand. "Aside from the network issues, there are a few cases of electronic breakdown both here and on the rig. All our tinkertech had a... hiccup, for lack of a better word. While nonfunctional at the moment, it might be possible for Dragon and I to repair everything, though it would take me off the patrol roster."

"Patrols are going to be a complicated issue in an entirely new city," the director pointed out. "We're going to need to get used to new streets, new capes, differing laws... and that's before we consider how our own gangs are going to match up to the local criminal element. You'll likely be off the streets for a few days anyway." She tapped her pencil on the table. "Would Kid Win be able to accelerate the process?"

"I... do not know if he's ready for that responsibility."

"We can figure that out later," Piggot decided. "It's likely that everyone from Brockton Bay is having similar network issues. I'm not sure if the locals would also be suffering from the same issues, but I wouldn't be surprised. Helping smooth over that sort of issue could likely endear us to the city."

"Hey, what if Kid Win was put in charge of that?" Assault suggested, sitting up. "Actually, what if the Wards all did a check-up patrol? Show the flag, introduce the civilians to the friendly kid angle... keeps them from getting antsy while waiting for orders."

Director Piggot frowned, but nodded reluctantly. "Reasonable. Since Armsmaster and Triumph will be busy, I'll leave you, Battery, and Militia to chaperone the wards on an impromptu patrol. That should be two for each of you, I'll leave you to sort out the details."

"Console's still down," Militia pointed out. "What should we do if we encounter a situation?"

"Use your best judgment. Priority should be given to situations involving capes--I don't want the locals to think we can't clean up after our own mess." She sighed. "Which reminds me: Velocity, you're going to have to go to New Wave and make sure they're caught up on all this."

Velocity nodded.

"Dauntless, I'm leaving you on base to handle... anything unexpected," Piggot said. "You'll be under Armsmaster and Dragon's command." She sighed, flipping through the files. "We don't know how long we're going to be here, so we have to hope we make a good impression. Between the flash affecting Brockton Bay and the possible reactions of the locals, I'm certain there'll be more than a few cases of hysteria we have to defuse."

"Huh." Sherman leaned out of the tour bus window. "Hey guys, you see that weird collection of sci-fi-looking buildings floating in the bay?"

"Huh, yeah." Bobbi lowered his glasses. "Those weren't there before."

"Flash of light, and suddenly new buildings?" Danny grinned. "You know what that reminds me of?"

Sherman and Bobbi both rolled their eyes. "The '87 Washington tour," they chorused blandly.

"The '87 Washington tour!" Danny cheered. "Be on the lookout for grumpy pancakes!"

Chapter Text

"You know, Perry the Platypus, this is one of my most unusual failures yet. Because usually when I fail, something happens. There's an explosion, or a stampede of crocodiles, or you thwart me somehow." Doofenshmirtz scratched his head as he looked at the machine. "But as far as I can tell there was just a flash of light and nothing happened. Maybe this Inator was a dud? No, Inators are never duds, even the stupid ones work. Hmm. Perry the Platypus, what do you think?"

Perry, having freed himself from the book trap some time ago, walked over to the remote control and turned on the television.

"--continue our coverage of the legal battle between Huge-O-Records and Marty the Rabbit Boy this evening. Back to you, Bridgette."

"Thank you Gordon. Breaking news! Danville has been merged with Brockton Bay, a city from another reality! After the mysterious city-wide flash of light, brand new buildings and entirely new streets have mysteriously appeared everywhere, and people with five fingers are wandering around in confusion!"

"...Huh." Doofenshmirtz gave Perry a confused look. "Why did I make the vector adjuster go up to city scale? I'm sure I had a reason..."

Perry rolled his eyes.

"Concerns have been raised about the infrastructure and logistical problems this may cause, and multiple agencies have made outreach to their counterparts. Our mayor is busy talking with their mayor, our police are talking with their police, and our pizza delivery people are talking to their pizza delivery people. While the situation is unprecedented, the fundamentals will hopefully be resolved within the afternoon."

"Well, this is a pickle, Perry the Platypus. I mean I can't exactly point at a city and laugh can I? Especially if the whole city has a life that was worse than mine. That means that everyone from Brockton Bay has a worse life than mine on average--or that a few specific people have really terrible lives that weigh the average down." Doofenshmirtz rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Actually what do we call these people? I'm sure they need a name... Brocktonort? Brocktonulace?"

Perry crossed his arms, tapping his foot against the ground.

"What? This is a very important question, Perry the Platypus."

The agent pointed meaningfully at the Other-Dimensioninator.

"What?" Doof followed the gesture, before giving him a disbeliving look. "You want me to use it again? Even after the city summoning thing? Why would I do that, Perry the Platypus, it's not like I can..."

He trailed off thoughtfully.

"...actually, you know what, I CAN still do my evil scheme!"

Perry facepalmed as the man rushed back over to the Other-Dimensioninator and made a few adjustments. "Just have to make sure to keep the Vector Adjustor down to a single person and things should work out exactly as I intended them to in the first place! I, doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz, will have the last laugh!" He turned to the platypus as he tapped the final button. "Cause, you know, I'm going to point at somebody and laugh at them, that was my plan in the first--"

A small green fist interrupted his sentence, sending him flailing back as the Other-Dimensioninator whirred back up for another go. Perry spun around, jumping for the control panel, but he was jerked back when Doofenshmirtz grabbed his tail and flung him away from the machine into a convenient pile of books. He emerged with two large encyclopedias wrapped around his tiny hands--

"Wait wait wait, what, are you serious?" Doofenshmirtz wagged his hands in disbelief. "Using books as weapons? Do you know how much that'll damage them? Reading's rare enough these days, we don't need to abuse books any further, do we?"

Perry, without taking his eyes off the doctor, slowly lowered the books.

"There, see? Now let's have a fight like civilized people--"

A sudden flash of green-white caught their attention, and Doofenshmirtz spun around with a manic grin. "Ha! Now at last, I have found somebody with a worse life than me, and it's a... cute little... girl." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Okay, something must be wrong with the Other-Dimensioninator's targeting system. Uh, hey there, little girl! What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Riley!" the blond girl grinned, pulling a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and wiping something off her hands. "Who are you? And where am I?"

"Well, I'm Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and you're in my lab. You're taking this really calmly--wait, is that tomato sauce?"

"Oh no," Riley chirped brightly, "it's blood."

"Oh okay." Doof nodded. "That makes sense."

"You're not worried?"

"It's perfectly normal for kids to have their hands covered in blood, isn't it Perry the Platypus?" Doof turned to Perry for support, only to be surprised when the platypus was shaking his head. "It's not? What do you mean, I had my hands covered in blood all the time!"

"Wait really? You too?"

"Well yes. You see, back in Gimmelshtump, in the days of my youth, I was forced to work in a butcher's shop. We weren't a very rich family back then, so we all had to contribute to the income. Anyway, I was very young, too young to actually wrestle with the hogs, so instead the head butcher would have me cutting open dead hogs and organizing their organs. It worked pretty well, until I accidentally dropped some of the meat into their pen. I didn't know it at the time, but hogs go wild for hog meat. There was a stampede, and all the hogs got out, and we were all forced to wrestle the hogs back into their individual pens." Heinz sighed. "Then the butcher fired me, my parents disowned me, and... well, it's a long story."

"...huh," said Riley. "You never cut open any humans?"

"What? No! I was a butcher, not a doctor!" Doctor Doofenshmirtz blinked. "I mean, I'm a doctor now, but not a medical doctor. I have doctorate in evil science."

"Evil science?" Riley perked up. "That sounds cool!"

"It does?"

"Yeah! You can make like laser guns, or robot minions, or, or, big evil lairs!" Riley gushed. "That's really cool!"

"Yeah, it... it is, isn't it?" Doofenshmirtz looked down on Perry with a smug grin. "You hear that, Perry the Platypus? I'm cool!"

Perry rolled his eyes--and then leaned back when Riley suddenly lunged forward. "Oh my gosh. Is this your minion?"

"Oh no," Doof replied, "this is my nemesis, Perry the Platypus!"

"Your nemesis?" Riley asked curiously, eyeing Perry with a calculating gaze.

"Yep. Can't be a proper evil scientist without a nemesis," the doctor explained. "I start an evil scheme, he comes to stop me, I trap him and explain the scheme, he breaks out and stops me, I curse him as he leaves... it's pretty much a daily routine by now."

Riley frowned, looking up at the doctor. "You could just kill him."

"What?" Doofenshmirtz tilted his head, confused. "Why would I do that?"

"...so he'd stop thwarting your evil schemes," Riley replied, as though it were obvious.

"Hoo boy." Heinz knelt down, putting a gentle hand on Riley's shoulder. "Listen, Riley, it's not that simple. Perry the Platypus was assigned to me by the Organization Without a Cool Acronym. If he were pulled from my case, they'd send in another agent, you understand? And besides," he wrapped an arm around the increasingly uncomfortable Perry, "we've developed a good working relationship as nemeses! I'd rather have the platypus I know then some gnu I don't."

Perry chittered at him with annoyance.

"Hey, Peter the Panda was a one-time thing!" Doof insisted. "...Okay, two times. But the second time involved aliens, meteors, and Baloony, and it was... very confusing."

"...huh." Riley looked at Perry again. "So... why is he teal?"

"What are you talking about? All american platypi are teal!"

"...huh." Riley shrugged. "I didn't know that."

"Hmm, they must not have american platypi in your world. Speaking of which," Doofensmirtz stood up, "I think I need to adjust the Other-Dimensionator to send you home... unless you don't want to go home. I mean, do you want to go back?" he asked. "Because I specifically set the machine to pull in somebody with a worse life than mine, and it pulled you in, so--"

"I--wait, my life is worse than yours?"

"Well, if the scanners are working right," Doof allowed, "but they could be broken. What's your life like, anyway?"

"Oh, I travel around the country with mister Jack," Riley explained brightly.

"Mister Jack?"

"Yeah! He took me in after..."

Something passed across Riley's face. A flicker of pain that Perry wasn't sure he had seen until he caught Doofenshmirtz's expression and realized the man had seen it too.

"...well, he took me in, and now I help him out!"

"Really?" Heinz Doofensmirtz smiled gently. "Why don't you tell me more while I work on fixing my machine?"

"Okay!"

Chapter Text

Taylor chewed her lip as she walked down the street, carefully not meeting the eyes of any of the people wandering around in confusion. Some of them she recognized, vaguely, as neighbors and other citizens of Brockton Bay. Others she didn't recognize at all. Listening through her swarm had given her some insight into the whole situation, with multiple people talking about a broadcast that had gone out less than an hour ago... on the network native to this reality. The idea that Brockton Bay could just be transported to another world, though, was mind-boggling. Nobody could just hear something that strange and just say 'that's cool, so what are we going to do today?'

"Huh, an entire city from another world was just transported to Danville! That's cool. So what are we going to do today?"

Taylor did not jerk around in shocked disbelief, mostly because the ants in the nearby lawn were doing it for her. She carefully wandered past, focusing her swarm through the house and yard as she glanced over the fence.

"You've got a point, Ferb," said a boy with a large nose--large enough to make his head look like a triangle. "This entire situation would be very disruptive and upsetting for the Brocktonians. Or is it Brocktonites? Brocktonese...?"

The other boy, who had a strangely cubical nose and green hair, gave him a flat look.

"We should do something for them!" the triangle boy declared. "Make a welcoming package for everybody who got sent here. But what would we put in it? And how many packages should we make?"

Taylor smiled wryly to herself as she walked on, passing a darkhaired girl in a pink dress who made a beeline for the backyard gate. Okay, so innocent and naive kids could maybe just accept the new paradigm without any real concern. The inside of their house seemed pretty normal, aside from... all the hidden tunnels and pipes... leading to an underground garage...?

"Hey Phineas! Wat'cha dooooin?"

"Oh hey Isabella! We're planning on making a welcoming package to give to everyone in Brockton Bay!"

Taylor cautiously approached what seemed to be an auxillary entrance to the underground base. She lifted the trash can lid. The can itself seemed quite empty, but she was able to work some bugs in and out of various cracks near the bottom.

"One big welcoming package or three hundred and fifty thousand individual ones?"

"Hmm. What do you think, Ferb?"

Dead silence came through the swarm for a few seconds. Taylor rolled her eyes and put the lid back on the trash can, turning around to head back home.

"Yeah, good point. I guess we'd need to know more about them before we make a big production. A few hundred thousand gift baskets it is!"

"We should put in the essentials. You know, a few hundred bolts, a set of basic tools--"

"And a few food items!" Isabella suggested. "Nonperishable goods. Oh, and some cakes and cookies. You think the Brocktonborn like jewish food?"

Taylor jerked to a stop.

"We could scale up some Lekach recipes, maybe make some strudel to throw in."

"That's a great idea!" the triangle-headed boy proclaimed. "Heck, let's throw in stuff from all our cultures! Mexican artwork, Indian poetry, British tea!"

"I'm sure everyone from Brockton Bay will love our multicultural greeting baskets!"

Taylor looked over the fence, taking in the smiling little girl in a pink dress and bow. A horrifically unbidden image rose in her head, of that little girl cheerfully holding a basket and knocking on a door, only to come face to face with the snarling metal visage of Hookwolf. She banished it from her mind, but it was swiftly replaced with the vague idea of the drug-addicted Merchants inviting her in for a party, or the draconic visage of Lung looking the girl over and snatching her up--

She hung her head with a long, resigned sigh.

Then she headed for the backyard gate, knocking on it carefully. "Uh... excuse me?"

"Oh hi!" The triangle-headed boy waved. "I'm Phineas Flynn and this is my brother Ferb Fletcher. And our neighbor, Isabella Garcia-Shapriro."

"Hi!" the girl waved.

"Hello. I'm... my name is Taylor Hebert."

"Nice to meet you, Taylor!" Phineas greeted happily. Ferb cleared his throat, flicking his eyes significantly. "Oh! Hey, are you a Brocktonary?" Phineas added curiously.

"...I'm from Brockton Bay, if that's what you're asking."

"That's perfect! We could really use your advice on something. Come on in!"

Taylor pushed the fence gate open, surprised that it was unlocked. Then she glanced at the glass sliding doors and winced. "Yeah... you really could use my advice..."

"So," Phineas began as she walked over, "what exactly do you think the average citizen of Brockton Bay would appreciate in a greeting gift basket?"

"It's not the average citizen you need to worry about," Taylor informed him, sitting down warily. "It's... the capes."

"The what?"

"The parahumans." She took in the confused expressions. "The, uh, people with superpowers?"

"You guys have superheroes?" Isabella gasped eagerly. "Real live superheroes?"

Taylor nodded. "And supervillains."

"Oh." Isabella deflated a little. "At least the superheroes outnumber them, right?"

"....nnno. No they don't."

"Well then, we just won't deliver any gift baskets to the supervillains," Phineas decided. "All we have to do is avoid their evil lairs."

"They, uh, don't have lairs," Taylor explained. "At least, I don't think they do. Maybe they have hideouts? But the capes in charge of the gangs probably have ordinary homes they go to when they're not fighting."

"Gangs?"

Taylor took a breath. "Okay, so from the top...."

"...and that summarizes all I know. Which isn't a lot, I know, I only really started looking into things a few months ago."

"I am highly offended that the largest criminal element in your city is a group of neonazi wannabes who regularly mangle mythology for their racist ideology," Isabella stated flatly. "I'm tempted to load the gift baskets with multicultural foodstuffs just to spite them."

Taylor cringed. "That... might not be the wisest idea."

"Oh I know, I'm not stupid. Just mildly vengeful."

"Good. So... it might be best if you avoided going around and knocking on people's doors," Taylor repeated. "I don't want you to endanger yourself while trying to help."

"Well, it's a good thing we weren't planning on delivering the gift baskets in person anyway," Phineas decided. "I mean, three hundred and fifty thousand people? That would be wildly inefficient."

"Better to rely on the mail," Taylor agreed.

"Or on this automatic self-motivated gift basket production machine," Phineas stated, gesturing to the machine that now took up half the backyard.

Taylor's lips twitched. "Or that," she jokingly conceded, looking at the very fancy piece of playground equipment Ferb had put together while she was explaining things. "I'm sure it's a wonderful... uh..."

A basket with food, supplies, and a well-written welcoming note on fancy stationery glided out of the object. It scanned all four of them with some sort of light thing, beeped when it hit Taylor, and hovered toward her. She took the handle with some shock.

"It works!" Phineas declared happily. "Now we just have to keep the system topped off until we send out enough baskets for everyone!"

"Um," Taylor said intelligently.

Isabella gave her a smug grin. "Yeah, they do that."

Ferb looked around the yard. "Hmmm. Hey, where's Candace?"

Chapter Text

"Stacy, who else but my brothers could cause an entire city to be teleported from another reality and near-seamlessly integrated with the infrastructure of the city?"

"Weird things happen in Danville," Stacy pointed out. "You should probably call them to make sure. You don't want to look crazy in front of the Brocktonei."

"I thought it was Brocktoners?" Candace blinked, shaking her head and pulling out her cell phone. "Whatever, I guess you're right. Let me just ring them up..."

Stacy took a moment to glance around at the confused masses that had spontaneously appeared in the mall post-flash. Most of them were still wandering around in a daze, or trying to work nonfunctioning phones. Some of them, though, had expressions of anger or fear. "Maaaaaybe we should have this conversation somewhere private."

"Yeah yeah yeah, one second Stace. Hi, Phineas? Yeah, did you make something that could transport people in from other realities?"

"Uh..." Stacy noticed some eyes turning their way. "Candace?"

"You didn't? Really. Okay, so what did you do today?"

"Candace?"

"Gift baskets?! Huh. That sounds... actually nice and normal!"

"Candace!"

"What?" Candace snapped, looking at Stacy.

Stacy merely gestured at the crowd of people now surrounding them.

"Aheheheheheh... I'm going to call you back, Phineas." Candace snapped her phone shut. "Hey guys! You're looking... upset."

"What's this about another world?" one of the men growled.

"You didn't see the news bulletin?"

"Candace, the only reason we saw the news bulletin was that we were in front of an electronics store when it aired," Stacy pointed out reasonably. "So why don't we--calmly! Calmly.--summarize what it said, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah! Of course." Candace took a breath. "I am calm. I am serenity. I am--"

"Long story short, the big city-wide flash brought you and your city into Danville which is on another Earth and nobody knows why," Stacey summarized quickly. "The people up top are investigating and telling everyone not to panic, but--"

"Really? That's it?" The man scoffed. "Don't panic? What kind of morons do you take us for?"

"The kind neither of us are qualified to help out." Stacy began pushing Candace away. "So if you'll excuse us--"

"I heard that girl say her brothers did this!" shouted a woman.

"I didn't say that!" Candace objected. "I said they were making gift baskets for everyone from Brockton Bay!"

"What, you expect us to believe that?"

"But it's true--they are! I'm just--"

"Okay, okay, calm down everyone." A new voice cut through the crowd. "I saw the bulletin, too. Right place, right time, it was an electronics store. Our phones aren't working yet because they're not linked to the local service," continued the speaker, a blonde girl walking through the crowd. "Do you really want to pick a fight with a pair of teenagers just because you misheard something they said?"

The crowd glared at her suspiciously.

"In front of those very annoyed-looking security guards?" she added, pointing at the mall's upper level. "Is that really the first impression you want to give our new neighbors? Just go home. Check on your friends and family. I'm sure somebody's already organizing a response or three."

With some grumbles and huffs, the crowd began to disperse.

Candace heaved a sigh of relief. "Wow. Thanks, that could have gotten messy, fast."

"Yeah, you must be a regular superhero," Stacy agreed.

The blonde's lips twitched with amusement. "Yeah... yeah, something like that. You two sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Not the worst thing I've been through," Candace grumbled. "But an angry mob can ruin your day fast."

"...I'm surprised you have experience with mobs," the blonde said, looking her up and down. "You don't seem very, uh... mob-worthy."

"She's not," Stacy assured her. "But she's had an interesting life."

"That's one way to put it," Candace groused.

"Let's not overwhelm the girl," Stacy suggested gently. "We only just met her. I'm Stacy Hirano," she added, holding out her hand, "and this is my friend, Candace Flynn."

"Pleasure to meet you both," the blonde said, shaking the hand. "My name's Lisa Wilbourne."

"Welcome to Danville, Lisa. Hey, since you're already here, you want to come shopping with us? Maybe we can compare Brockton Bay fashion and Danville styles."

"Sure, why not? Most of my schedule's already thrown with everything going on." Lisa fell into lockstep with the pair of them. "And I can keep you two safe from Brockton Bay's more reprehensible sort."

"Is that really an issue?"

Lisa chuckled. "The PRT haven't quite worked up the gumption to slap the HOSV label on us, but there've been a few threats over the years."

"The PRT?" Candace gave her a curious look. "What's that?"

"The Parahuman Response Team. Government organization that deals with people who have superpowers."

Stacy blinked. "Wait, wait, hold on. Are you, like, actually a superhero?"

"Nope! But my job does involve them from time to time." Lisa grinned smugly. "I'm a part-time analyst for an independent contractual security assessment organization. Not really that important in the grand scheme of things, but sometimes people need to know if a tinker can break into their private vaults."

"Huh." Stacy looked her over. "I thought you were around our age, but you've got a job like that?"

"More an internship, really, but it was the kind of offer I couldn't refuse."

"Must be pretty interesting."

"You have no idea."

"Hey, what does HOSV mean anyway?" Candace asked casually.

"High Occurance of Supervillains. Or Hive Of Scum and Villainy. Depends on who you ask."

"...And your superhero organization has debated whether to call Brockton Bay one of those," Candace clarified warily.

"Yeah..." Lisa shrugged. "We've got a few gangs that have some powerful capes. You might want to watch your step from here on out."

"Oh." Candace's shoulders slumped. "Great. All that on top of whatever my brothers get up to..."

Lisa gave her a confused look. "Your brothers can't possibly--"

A small swarm of gift baskets floated by, scanning everyone as they passed. Some broke off and glided by startled individuals, one in particular hovering in front of Lisa's shocked face.

"Hmm. Scanner and hovertech--not that high by Phineas and Ferb standards," Stacy mused, "but given the sheer quantity of baskets they'd have to make, I'd rank this as a high middle sort of stunt."

"Wait. Her brothers made..." Lisa gestured. "Those?"

"Yep."

Lisa finally took her gift basket, looking through it with an odd expression. "And this is going to everyone from Brockton Bay."

"Probably."

"...yeah, there's going to be consequences for this..."

Chapter Text

Taylor watched in awe as hundreds of gift baskets poured out of the strange machine every minute, covering the sky in an array of bright wicker and scanning beams. "I don't believe it. I'm seeing it and I don't believe it."

"Mmmm..." Isabella rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Well, they're not bending the laws of physics this time, except for the whole mass production in a tiny space... but that is still pretty impressive. I'm going to put this one as a 7.2 out of 10 on the 'most impressive things Phineas and Ferb have done' scale."

"This is only a 7.2?"

"At a rough estimate." Isabella shrugged. "Could be lower, honestly. I'm a little biased."

"Alright, everyone, production seems to be going well." Phineas stepped out of the machine with a smile. "All we need to do now is maintain equilibrium, and things should take care of themselves."

"I don't believe it." Taylor stared up at the swarm of baskets. "I'm seeing it, and I don't believe it."

Isabella smirked at her. "Oh believe it, sister. This isn't even close to being the craziest thing they've done."

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"Weeeeeeelll..."

Taylor blinked, finally tearing her eyes from the swarm of gift baskets. "Uh..."

"Why are you--?" Taylor's question was interrupted by a guitar riff from Ferb.

"Okay, that's--that's good to know Candace--"

"Why is she singing?" Lisa whispered to Stacy.

"Shush, she's on a roll!"

"...where is that music coming from?" Lisa asked, staring around. "Does--does she have control of the mall's P.A. system?"

"No, that's just a Danville thing," Stacy assured her. "Oh look, here's the chorus girls!"

"Who are these people?!" Taylor cried, looking around wildly. "And how can I hear the other half of this song?!"

"Look Ferb, chorus girls!" Phineas waved brightly. "Hi ladies!"

Lisa glanced around carefully. The locals didn't seem disturbed at all, while her fellow Brocktonies were very visibly confused. Her eyes turned back to where Candace was... angrily dancing.

"Seriously, is this normal?"

"What, the musical number?" Stacy shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much."

"I... see," Lisa muttered.

Taylor boggled at the blatant choreography going on in front of her, and the complete lack of reaction that Phineas and Ferb were having to it.

How, she wondered in a daze, was Isabella keeping up with the professional dancers?

And when had Phineas pulled out an electric keyboard?!

"....why are you blushing?" Taylor asked suspiciously.

"What?" Isabella looked around quickly. "I'm not blushing, you're blushing!"

"But--"

"CHORUS GIRLS!"

Lisa watched the finale with some bemusement, quirking a brow as Candace somehow twirled down a human pyramid and landed arms extended right in front of her.

"...so, uh... do I applaud?" she asked Stacy, sotto voice.

"I mean, if you want to. Donations to the local choreography corps would probably be more appreciated."

"The what?"

"The choreography corps. What, do you not have those in your world?"

"We don't have spontaneous musical numbers, no," Lisa deadpanned.

"Huh." Stacy considered that for a moment, and then shrugged. "Weird."

"...okay." Taylor turned away from the baffling image of a green-haired boy writing out paychecks to a group of chorus girls. "Okay, so you have organizations devoted to... sudden musical numbers. That's... kind of bizarre, but alright." She took a breath. "What I want to know is where that other singer's voice was coming from!"

"Oh that's just a basic duet simulcast," Phineas explained. "Perfectly common."

"Perfectly common." Taylor nodded in disbelief. "This from the kid who built a miniature gift basket factory in his backyard."

"Yep."

"...You really don't understand how any of this is strange."

Isabella grinned. "I prefer the term extraordinary."

Chapter Text

"...but Mimi was practicing with her fire, so Ned's fart exploded! She went flying! Probably would have died if she didn't set her pants on fire to teleport back to the bridge."

"Yeah, falls from that height can be dangerous," Doofenshmirtz agreed from his toolbox. "Just gotta connect this to that..."

Riley looked up from the game she was playing with Perry. "I really hope you finish that up soon. I was kind of in the middle of helping mister Jack when you brought me here."

"Helping him with what?"

"Oh I was improving him," she explained, rolling the dice and moving the unicorn a few spaces along the board. "You know, putting in some muscular enhancements and all that."

"Right, you mentioned you did mention you were some sort of surgical prodigy. Wait, did I pull you out of your world while you were doing surgery?"

"Yep."

"So is this Jack guy in danger? Cause it sounds bad to leave a surgery half done."

"Oh, he's not going to die, I'm too good for that. But, well, he might be inconvenienced."

"Bonesaw? Where'd you go? Be a good girl and come back, I can't move... my anything. And I think my liver just fell on the floor..."

"I'd like to get back as soon as possible, in any case."

"Then it's a good thing you've got a proper evil scientist working on this!" Doofenshmirtz declared.

Perry rolled his eyes and the dice, moving the fedora piece along the board.

"I mean I'm not exactly comfortable sending you back," the scientist continued, "since it's been conclusively proven your life is way worse than mine. And, well, you are only four or five years younger than my own daughter."

"You have a daughter?"

"Oh yeah, Vanessa! She lives with her mother, we both agreed that would be better for her after the divorce, but she comes over to visit a lot." Doofenshmirtz attached a few wires to a computer chip, frowned, and then reattached them to different points. "You'd like her, I think. I mean, she likes dressing in black and she was at that dance party in a scrapyard."

"So she's some sort of... punk goth girl or something?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Riley paused in the middle of rolling her dice. "Heeeeey... you aren't trying to convince me to stay 'for my own good', are you?"

"What? No! I mean, I wouldn't mind you staying, you seem like such a sweet little girl, but forcing my own will on you would be immoral and irresponsible. And it would probably also count as kidnapping. I don't do that."

"Chrrhrhrhrr," Perry reminded him.

"Alright, fine, I do it on occasion, but only in service of my evil schemes," the doctor corrected. "And I'd never kidnap anybody below the age of consent. I thought that was a given."

"It really isn't," Riley deadpanned, rolling her dice and moving her unicorn to the final space on the board. "So... this is the part where I ring the bell, right?"

Perry nodded, gesturing his concession.

Riley shrugged, reaching out and ringing the tiny bell. "Skiddly-Whifflers...! Hm. I'm not really feeling it. I mean it was fun, but kinda simple? Not really intellectually engaging at all. Back with the others we had to come up with our own games, and inventing the rules was half the fun."

"I guess that makes sense, imagination is one of the most powerful forces on this planet. Right after love, and right before quantum physics." Doofenshmirtz slammed the panel shut. "Okay, I think we should be good to go now! If you just stand on the target painted on the ground there, I'll have you back to your horrible life lickity-split."

"...You're just going to send me back?"

"If you want to go back, yeah. But if you don't that's totally fine too!"

"I mean," she clarified, "you aren't going to test it on anything first? Just in case?"

Doofenshmirtz blinked, looking at the target painted on the balcony. "...Huh. That's a good idea. Wait one second."

Riley watched him run into a storage closet and start muttering to himself as he began to look for something he definitely wouldn't mind losing.

"...he's not going to send me back, is he."

Perry quirked an eyebrow at that statement.

"I saw the way he looked at me when I told him how I met mister Jack. I saw the way you both looked at me, actually, but seeing any expression on a platypus face is weird. But he really doesn't want to send me back, does he?" she continued. "So he's going to saobotage his own machine."

The platypus waggled his hand noncommitally. It wouldn't necessarily be out of character for Heinz to do that, but it also wouldn't be out of the question to fail legitimately.

And, privately, Perry actually did want him to succeed--for all that Riley portrayed herself as a friendly little girl, she had outright admitted to travelling with and being raised by serial killers. He wasn't unsympathetic, especially not after she'd described how 'Mister Jack' had forced her to try to save her family in a twisted game, but... well, he could easily see the girl stumbling across the Flynn-Fletcher house and taking an interest in his boys.

"...You know, you're pretty smart for an animal," Riley mused, leaning in. "And you have very dexterous hands... I wonder how they work?"

Perry leaned back uncomfortably, eyeing the hand that was moving toward the pocket in her apron--

"Alright, I got it!" Doctor Doofenshmirtz stumbled back into the room, carrying a sack of golf clubs. "This'll work out great, right? You can play golf with your buddies!"

"Oooo!" Riley got up, bouncing on her feet as the unsuspecting bag was placed on the sacrifical altar... of SCIENCE.

"Okay, so if I'm right, I just press this button and that thing will vanish. And then, you'll be next! But you won't actually vanish, you'll just go back to your world, which looks like vanishing from our end--"

"I get it."

"Oh, good, I don't have to explain it then. Okay, here we go!"

Doofenshmirtz raised a finger dramatically, before slamming it down on the button. A beam of greenish-white shot out and hit the bag of golf clubs. It began to glow.

"It's working! Oh, it is...!"

The bag continued glowing.

"...hmm." Doofenshmirtz rubbed his chin. "You know, it really should have vanished by now. At least from our perspective. Why is it still glowing?" He wandered over, leaning down to take a closer look. "It's sort of shifting back and forth, like it wants to go but can't. Almost as if there's something on the other side stopping it."

"Really?" Riley tilted her head. "What could possibly stop it?"

"I don't know, an eldritch alien hivemind? Could be anything really. Oh, something's happening, it looks like it's about to--"

The light jumped off the bag and enveloped the Other-Dimensioninator with an ominous glllnchnkr-nk-nk-nk sound. It vibrated into psycadadelics, shifted through various eye-bending forms, before finally spiraling away with a pop. Where once stood a testament of the power of EVIL SCIENCE, there was now nothing but empty space and a bagel.

"Huh." Doofenshmirtz picked up the bagel and took an experimental bite. "Strawberry? Who makes a strawberry bagel? How does that even make sense?!"

"I'm guessing that you're not going to send me back," Riley deadpanned.

"Not today, no," Doof agreed, nibbling on the bagel. "Seems like you're stuck here for a bit."

Riley sighed. "It's... it's fine. I've already upgraded Mister Jack's head to be able to surivive without his body. As long as somebody finds him, he'll be okay."

"Bonesaw? This really isn't funny!"

...sniff, sniffle schnuff...

"Riley? ...Alan? ...Ned?"

...skitter, snnnnnniffff...

"Alright, anybody? Come on! I know you can hear me!"

"Squeak?"

"What was that?"

"Squeak squeak..."

"Oh god. You're a rat. Go away. Shoo--"

Woosh!

"No no no get out of there--no, that is not nest material--no, no no no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Schnk, schnk, schnk..."

"But hey," Doctor Doofenshmirtz declared, "that means Perry the Platypus and I can show you how to do the one thing that both evil scientists and secret agents do!" he declared brightly.

Perry blinked, confused.

"And what's that?" Riley asked curiously.

"Weeeeeeee CREATE FALSE IDENTITIES FOR OURSELVES!"

Perry facepalmed.

"That... sounds like a lot of fun, actually," Riley admitted.

"I know, right?" Doofenshmirtz wrapped a hand around her back, guiding her to the computer. "There's a great website for setting up your schooling history, come on, let me show you..."

Chapter Text

"Well, I'd say that was a very successful afternoon!" Phineas declared as the stream of gift baskets finally petered off. "We did a good thing for the Brocktonclan, had a fun musical number, and made a new friend!" He smiled cheerfully at Taylor, who blinked back with bafflement.

"Wait, what? We're friends now?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you kind of did come into our backyard and help us with a project, seems like friend material to me." Phineas turned to Ferb, who nodded in agreement. "See, even Ferb thinks so."

"Huh." Taylor stared down at the kids. "I... guess we are friends now, then. Um... nice to meet you, I guess...?"

"And it's good to meet you too, Taylor!" Phineas declared brightly. "Hey, if you stick around you can meet the rest of my family!"

"...they'd be okay with the random girl who wandered into the backyard?"

"Sure. That's how we met a lot of our friends." Phineas pointed up. "Look, here comes a new one now!"

"Uh, Phineas?" Isabella stepped back warily. "That... kinda looks more like a flying soldier than a friend--"

"Oh no, it's okay," Taylor reassured her. "That's Dauntless, one of Brockton Bay's heroes."

"That I am," said the man as he landed in the backyard, a smile visible under his greecian helmet. "Hello, kids!"

"Hey, mister Dauntless!" Phineas greeted cheerfully. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, my boss noticed a swarm of objects spreading out across the city and sent me to investigate. When I realized they were gift baskets, I decided to track them down to their source."

"Oh yeah, we made those."

Dauntless looked down at the boys. "Did you now?"

"Yep! I'm Phineas, and this is my brother Ferb. And when we heard the broadcast about the new city being merged with Danville, we decided we had to do something to welcome them all. So we built that," he gestured at the machine, "to make all the gift baskets."

"Impressive," Dauntless praised.

"Yeah, it's up there," Isabella agreed. "I mean, I wouldn't put it in the top fifty of their inventions, but it was fun to work on."

Dauntless turned to her. "They, ah... do this often?"

"Build things? Yeah, pretty much once an afternoon. Granted, citywide projects like this usually only happen twice a month or so. I'd have to double-check my records to be sure."

"Oh wow, you keep records?" Phineas asked, impressed.

"I'm the head of a Fireside Girl troop, Phineas, of course I keep records. How else will I confirm how many patches everyone has earned?"

Dauntless cleared his throat. "Well, I'm fairly certain Armsmaster would love to have a look at those records sometime, if you're willing to drop by the PRT headquarters one day. And I'm positive he'd like to have a look at that machine."

"Oh cool!" Phineas said. "Who's Armsmaster?"

"He's the head of the local Protectorate," Taylor explained. "Basically the leader of a superhero team. His power lets him build incredible technology."

"That's right," Dauntless agreed. "Do you mind if he looks this thing over?"

"You can take it with you if you want. Ferb?"

At Phineas's unspoken question, Ferb pressed a single button on the side of the faux-playground. Dauntless and Taylor watched, flabbergasted, as the machine folded up into something no larger than a book, which Ferb handed to Dauntless casually.

The hero stared at the object in his hand, as though it defied explanation.

"...and I just press that button again to make it expand?" he finally asked.

"Yep," Phineas said. "Make sure it's facing this side up, though."

"I'll remember that. Well, I believe I should be making my way back to headquarters."

"Watch out for random musical numbers," Taylor said quickly. "They apparently happen here all the time."

"Oh, thanks for the tip, miss..."

"Hebert. Taylor Hebert."

"Taylor's from Brockton Bay too," Phineas explained brightly. "She helped us figure out what to put in the gift baskets and avoid... a certain cultural faux pas."

"Well, that was very kind of you, miss Hebert," Dauntless said. "I'm glad somebody as quick-thinking as you found these two before anybody else did."

"Oh. Wow. Uh. Thanks, I... thanks."

"In any case, I really should get back. Farewell, citizens!"

With his boots glowing, Dauntless launched up into the air and flew away just as the back door to the building slid open.

"...and I'm telling you that every time my mom comes home their invention is... gone," the redheaded girl finished, deadpan. "Alright, what was it this time, Phineas? Random explosion? Mysterious ray from the sky?"

"A superhero wanted to take our invention to his boss so he could look it over," Phineas explained.

"...well at least that isn't as bad as the animation studio that literally danced away."

"Wow, Candace, you really weren't lying," said the blonde girl. "I'll admit I doubted you, but what do you know, the machine is actually gone." She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm being ruded. Lisa Willbourne, Brockton native. I bumped into your sister at the mall. You must be Phineas and Ferb, right?"

"That's us!" Phineas agreed. "And that's Isabella, our neighbor from across the street."

"Pleased to meet you," Isabella chirped.

"Oh, and this is Taylor," Phineas added. "She came over to help us plan out the baskets."

"Honestly, I was just kind of walking by when I heard their plans and... I kinda... had to stop them from doing something really foolish," Taylor admitted.

"Ugh, thanks," the redhead groaned. "Brothers, am I right?"

"I wouldn't know, I'm an only child."

"Lucky you," the girl deadpanned. "Oh, sorry, right. I'm Candace Flynn, the older sister of these two. And this is my friend Stacy."

"Sup," Stacy said. "Love your hoodie, by the way, very chique."

"...thanks...? It's storebought..."

"Oh, I know, I've had to buy soooo many ribbons, you have no idea."

"Well I'm glad to have another friend that'll help me look after my brothers," Candace declared. "They can be quite a handful."

"So I've gathered," Taylor deadpanned. "There was a whole musical number and everything."

"Oh god, that happened here too?" Lisa groaned, though there was an amused glint in her eyes. "I swear, I nearly jumped when Candace broke out into song."

"Hey, my singing isn't that bad!" Candace objected.

"Oh it definitely isn't, but Brockton Bay isn't used to random musical numbers."

"That's sad," Phineas mused. "Random musical numbers are a great way to bring the town together."

"They take a lot of prep though... or maybe they don't for you guys..."

The conversation wandered and meandered from there till at last the visitors, one by one, decided to go their seperate ways. Taylor was surprisingly the last to depart, and she walked home with a gift basket in her hands, humming the tune she'd only heard that day quietly to herself.

"Hmmhmm something fun, the boys'll get it done, hmmhmmhmhm soon, just wait an afternoon, hmmhmhmmmhm hmmhmm hmmmm hm hmmmm..."

She rolled her shoulders as she entered her house, locking the door and dropping the basket off on the table.

"Impossible's a word hmmmhmmhmmhmm absurd, hmmhmhmhmmhm hmmmhm hm hmmmhmm, hmmhmhmm you have no idea what's in stoooooore..."

And for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Chapter Text

Thomas Calvert was an organized and orderly man. His end goal was to rule Brockton Bay completely and totally, with both a legitimate position and a stranglehold on the criminal world, and that took careful, measured planning. He lived his life in a strictly and personally regimented manner, lining up his goals and his means perfectly with every action he took. He knew full well the dangers of risk-taking, since he alone could take risks without those dangers ever truly affecting him. Even the chaos of the city was taken into account when he scheduled his daily routine.

Which meant that unexpected developments were some of the most frustrating things in his life.

Oh, he didn't fall into a murderous rage, like his colleague in Boston would have, but he did tense when that flash of greenish-white blinded him in both his timelines--and forcibly shutting the one outside his base down. He barely had time to process that before his computer abruptly shut off, followed by the lights flickering ominously. It could have been a malfunction... or it could have been an attack. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the radio communications didn't seem to be working...

He split the timeline, heading for the security office in one reality while he tried to reboot his computer in the other. Opening the door was a bit of a struggle, but he managed it and stalked into the hallway of his underground base.

"Report," he demanded as soon as he arrived at his destination.

"Sudden disconnect from the power grid, sir. I've got men looking into it, we should be good to go as soon as they figure out what went wrong."

"Any sign of outside involvement?"

"Besides that green-white flash? Unclear."

Calvert rubbed his chin. The flash that had happened in both realities... was it targeting him specifically, or had it affected the whole city?

"Try to get in contact with our assets outside as soon as possible," he ordered, storming back out of the command center and toward the garage. As soon as he found out what was going on, there would be hell to pay.

In his other timeline, he'd finally booted up his computer, and was running through the network checks. Everything inside the base was still connected, even if some of it was unpowered. But switching the computer over to internet mode revealed that he couldn't connect to anything outside the base; it was almost as if everything was gone. Frustration building, he slumped in his seat, forcing himself to focus on the timeline where he was driving out of the secret garage. Maybe getting a view of things with his own eyes would provide him with some sort of clue.

The car trundled out the hidden entry and up the ramp, emerging on an unfamiliar road with unfamiliar buildings. Calvert had just enough time to gape incredulously before an enormous cheese wheel, of all things, crushed his engine.

He dropped the timeline immediately, leaning back in his seat in shock. That had been entirely... that was... a cheese wheel?

Why a cheese wheel?

Shaking it off, he split the timeline again, this time trying to access the external cameras. He could see the cheese wheel rolling down the road, cars swerving to avoid it, being chased by a teenager in a sweater vest of all things. There was something odd about the kid, but it didn't really matter at the moment--no, what mattered most was getting a read on the situation around his base. He examined the screens carefully, noting how some of the buildings were exactly as they should be and some were very, very different. So it was a citywide effect, after all.

In his other timeline, he was already marching back up to the secret garage. The cheese wheel was rolling away, so it'd be safe for him to get out and drive home. He could likely find some actual information there, if his computer was still connected to the internet...

The car trundled out the hidden entry and up the ramp. Calvert turned right, just in time for a ballistic llama to go through his windshield.

He opted to drop that timeline, doublechecking the recordings from the external cameras in his office. Yes, that was a god-damned llama running down the street. Wearing a tutu, of all things. Why was a llama wearing a tutu? Why was a llama there at all?

Calvert decided against driving out of his base a third time. Once was happenstance. Twice was coincidence. Three times was not worth risking.

He could wait until the connection to the external network was fixed. His apparent absence might lead to uncomfortable questions but, if his slowly growing hunch was correct, those questions would be overshadowed by whatever had just happened to the rest of the city...

What could have happened? The flash, the change in buildings, the lack of any serious damage to the infrastructure... It was entirely out of his experience, even living in a world of parahumans. There should have been some sort of city-wide warning, an a-class or s-class alert. A fresh trigger, maybe, could have flown under the radar, but the number of triggers that could immediately pump out this amount of power... it wasn't nearly as high as the public believed. And as terrible as Brockton Bay was, the relative trauma of a trigger had no bearing on its power.

He split the timeline again, experimentally calling Cauldron... only to find that even on this unique phone, he had no signal. That... was impossible, wasn't it? They were everywhere...

Collapsing the timeline again, he took a glance at the cameras again--and leaned back in shock when he saw a woman in some sort of victorian outfit ride up to the hidden entry on a scooter, with ramparts of all things on the back of the vehicle. It at least fit with the theme, going by the knight's helmet she was wearing. She looked at the door, then at her tablet, then knocked with a shrug.

After a moment, Calvert flipped on the intercom. "Captain," he said, splitting the timeline, "we have an... unexpected guest at the garage entrance."

In one timeline, he folded his fingers. "I want you to go out there and politely ask what she wants."

In the other, he turned to the screens. "Bring her in for interrogation."

His mercenaries obeyed swiftly in both timelines. In the first, the captain moved alone, swiftly arriving at the garage gate and opening the door. His words, and hers, transmitted clearly through the comm.

"Excuse me, ma'am, this is private property--"

"Oh, did Doctor Bloodpudding hire you?"

"I'm... unfamiliar with the individual in question."

"You know, the evil scientist that works in the underground lair," the woman said as though it was perfectly normal. "I mean, usually there's a slot for me to slide his pizza in, but it looks like you've done some renovating... you sure this isn't his place?"

"I'm quite certain," the captain said sternly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"This doesn't make sense, I was sure I followed the right road..." The woman pulled out what was most likely a phone. "Let me check... oh. OH! Oh, well, that explains things... quick check, you're from Brockton Bay, right?"

"...yes. This is Brockton Bay."

"Ah, yes and no." The woman flipped her phone around, showing some sort of news article. "Apparently your entire city got teleported from your world to ours. Which means Brockton Bay and Danville kind of got all jumbled up together."

"I... see. You understand I'll have to confirm that myself."

"Sure, sure, I get it. Anyway, I've got to get this pizza to Doctor Bloodpudding--Ye Olde Pizza promises to deliver in one one thousandth of a fortnight, after all!" The woman got back on her scooter and pulled out a business card, handing it to the captian. "Sorry for the mixup, and remember us when you get hungry!"

"Let her go," Calvert ordered the captain when he started to move after her.

The man paused. "Confirm, no capture?"

Calvert watched through the cameras in the other timeline as the woman acrobatically dispatched the mercenaries with a prop sword--obviously a prop, since none of them were being cut open. But she was still taking on experienced mercs and winning.

"Confirm," he said, dropping that timeline. "She's just a pizza delivery girl."

It was clear he needed to reevaluate his position.

Chapter Text

Missy Biron was always the first up in her home, and that was by choice and design. Sure, most kids her age would ordinarily wake up at seven, maybe seven thirty, and get ready for school. But she had powers, and responsibilities because of them. Being available early could be the difference between a successful villain capture or a dead civilian. So Missy had gotten into the habit of waking up at six-thirty, having breakfast while reading updates from the PRT on her phone, then brushing her teeth and taking a very thorough shower before getting dressed for the day.

That this routine let her avoid her parents as much as possible was an entirely unintentional bonus. Er, side effect. That she would never bring up with the Youth Guard. Ever. And if she got tired during the day, well, soldiers caught catnaps all the time. It wasn't adorable, it was professional. No matter how much some idiots on the internet would say otherwise.

And all that meant that Missy was the only one awake on the morning after the weird city-wide event that she was sure was going to get a case file. Which of course meant that when somebody knocked on her door, she was the one to answer it.

Miss Militia looked down at the girl, still in her pajamas, and smiled gently. "May I come in?"

"...I should ask you for today's Master Stranger code, but my phone's still not connected to the network."

"Last year, when Assault did that whole Secret Santa thing, Challenger used you as a proxy to figure out what to get me as a gift."

Missy rolled her eyes, stepping aside. "Had to check. Come on in. Can I get you anything? Cereal, toast, coffee?"

"No, that's fine..." Militia paused, looking at her. "You know how to make coffee?"

"Yep. Don't drink it, but it does smooth out tempers in this house." She moved her half-eaten bowl of cereal to the counter, then sat down as professionally as possible while still wearing pajamas. "So, what's with the early-morning meeting?"

Militia quirked a brow, but took a seat across from her, mimicking the standard position they would take in briefing rooms at the PRT headquarters. "We're still cataloging the fallout of everything that happened yesterday, which has put a large strain on our general operations. However, there is one event in particular that has caught the Director's attention."

She gestured toward the counter, where three gift baskets were partially emptied. Missy glanced at them, turning back to Militia with professional curiosity. "I can see why a swarm of flying gift baskets would catch the PRT's attention, especially after everything else that happened yesterday."

"Yes, but the problem is that it wouldn't catch just our attention," Militia replied. "A gift basket went out to every citizen of Brockton Bay, without discrimination."

"...meaning the gangs are now aware of a potential new Tinker to recruit," Missy realized. "Great. Do we have any leads?"

"Fortunately enough, we do. Dauntless was able to track down the source of the baskets and even speak to the boys who made it." Militia pulled out her own phone, bringing an image on screen. "Meet Phineas and Ferb."

Missy looked over the image and winced. "Wow, that poor kid--I mean, his head is literally a triangle. And... is that other boy's hair green?"

"Missy."

"Right, sorry, I'm good now. Just... a little surprised they're so, ah, distinctive." Missy shook her head, focusing again. "So, these two are responsible for making all those baskets?"

"Not quite. These two made the machine that made all those baskets."

"Wow. Mass production."

"Mmmhmm. The machine managed to make roughly three hundred and fifty thousand baskets within two and a half hours. That is a little over twenty-three hundred baskets a minute."

Missy blinked. "What? You're sh--you're kidding me," she corrected at Militia's stern look.

"Armsmaster calculated it himself."

"Wow. Uh. How big was this machine?"

"Fully deployed, it's about as big on the outside as a PRT van."

"...on the outside," Missy repeated.

"Yes."

"Fully deployed," Missy repeated again.

"Yes. Phineas and Ferb willingly gave it to Dauntless for Armsmaster to examine, after pressing a button that made it the size of a book."

"...Okay, I know the Youth Guard will kill me if they ever hear I said this, but that is bullshit."

"It absolutely is," Militia agreed. "What's more, one of the girls there outright stated the boys build similar things on a daily basis."

"A daily--?!" Missy shook her head in disbelief. "You're telling me that these two kids can create machines that do incredible things while being impossibly compact every single afternoon?"

"You can see why the PRT is so interested in them."

Missy slumped in her chair, rubbing her temples. "Okay. Okay. So we've got the planet's youngest pair of super tinkers, who have just helpfully announced their presence to every gang in the city, while we're undergoing the turmoil and chaos of being dumped into a new world. Obviously we want to get a read on them, but... we probably can't just ask them to come in, because the PRT doesn't have any actual authority here. So you're coming to me, because I'm about their age."

"Give or take a couple years," Militia agreed. "It'd be easy enough for you to ingratiate yourself into their friend group. Just say you were curious about this whole new world and you decided to meet the boys who made the baskets."

"Right, because that wouldn't be creepy at all," Missy muttered. "Alright, I'll do it. Let me guess, you want me to be there in my civvies?"

"It would... not be all that suspicious for a hero to show an interest, admittedly, but Armsmaster felt it was best to see how Phineas and Ferb behaved normally before deciding whether to leverage the Protectorate's resources and reputation." Militia reached into a pocket and produced a small disk on a string. "He did provide a discrete tinkertech body camera for you to wear."

"Because every girl wants a necklace that can spy on people." Missy yawned, shaking her head. "Okay, obviously I'm not going to be able to finish my breakfast, let me shower and get dressed and I'll be out in... fifteen minutes?"

"We have a van waiting for you outside. And I have a few spare energy bars."

"Thanks, that'll be really useful. Do you mind handling my parents while I get ready?" she asked as she walked toward the stairs.

"I can do that."

"Great. Thanks."

Missy yawned again, rolling her shoulders. She'd take a nap in the van. Because she was a professional.

Chapter Text

"You know, this whole city fusion thing sure is confusing," Buford noted.

"I knoooow!" Baljeet agreed. "I was in the library when it happened, and it took me three hours to find my house again!"

"Yeah, I know. I was with you, remember?"

"Oh yes, I could not forget," Baljeet said flatly.

"Speaking of which, are you sure we're heading the right way? Phineas and Ferb's house might have been shifted around with all that."

"Not to worry, Buford. After I got home yesterday, I triangulated the relative position of their house from the paths of multiple flying gift baskets. We should be in the right neighborhood."

"Assuming the baskets flew in a straight line."

"Yes, assuming--"

"Which doesn't strike me as the most efficient distribution method Phineas and Ferb could have chosen if they were trying to cover the whole city."

Baljeet stopped in his tracks. "...no," he admitted, "that... would likely be a spiral of some sort, wouldn't it." He frowned, pulling out a notepad and quickly sketching out a few calculations. "...Okay, the good news is, we are probably in the right neighborhood--"

"We're lost, aren't we."

"We are not lost!" Baljeet insisted. "We are just going to have to more actively observe our surroundings in order to locate our objective, that's all."

"So we're lost."

Baljeet sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Okay, maybe we are a little bit lost."

"Well, that's a problem," Buford stated bluntly. "What are we going to do now? It's not like somebody who knows where Phineas and Ferb's house got moved is just going to drive up."

At that very moment, a black van with a purple stripe and the letters PRT stenciled on the side drove up to the curb across the street. When it drove off, an ordinary-looking blonde girl around their age was standing on the sidewalk, intensely looking at the phone in her hand. "Okay, so I go north five blocks, then east three, and I should be at 2308 Maple Drive..."

"Huh." Baljeet looked at his notepad. "She's right, I think, that's the way to Phineas and Ferb's place."

Buford crossed his arms. "So we're going to follow the girl to our friend's house?"

"Apparently, yes." Baljeet pocketed his notepad, jogging after the girl. "Excuse me! We seem to be headed to the same place, do you mind if we walk with you?"

The girl looked up from her phone, a little startled. "Uh... who are you?"

"Oh, my name is Baljeet Tjinder. And this is Buford Van Stomm," he added, gesturing to the other boy.

"Sup."

"We were headed to our friends' house, but the whole thing with the cities fusing have left the roads rather confused," Baljeet continued. "You seem to have the location of Phineas and Ferb's house, though, so if you do not mind..."

The girl blinked for a bit, before tilting her head. "...Sssssssssure. Sure, you can walk with me."

"Excellent! Hopefully I will also be able to gauge how accurate my triangulations were," Baljeet added happily as they walked along. "Oh, did you triangulate their approximate locations from the gift basket flights as well?"

"No, I--uh..." The girl hesitated, before sighing. "Yeah, it was my uncle who did all the math. The swarm of gift baskets kind of put him on edge--that just doesn't happen in Brockton Bay, you know?"

"Oh, you're from Brockton Bay?"

"Yep. I kinda got curious about who was sending the baskets out, so I... took a look at my uncle's calculations and, well, here I am!"

"Was that van your uncle's too?" Buford asked.

"N-no. It... belongs to my aunt, actually. They're not married," she clarified quickly, "different, you know, branches of the family. She just gave me a ride. In her work van. Don't tell anybody, she might get in trouble for that."

"...yeah okay." "Sounds normal to me!"

Taylor wasn't sure what brought her back to the Flynn-Fletcher house...

Okay, that was a lie. Curiosity. It was a burning curiosity. And the lack of anything better to do until Winslow decided to start up again.

What she wasn't sure about was why she decided to come the very next morning. And she definitely wasn't sure why Candace had, upon seeing her, decided to drag her up to her bedroom for 'girl talk.'

"...so I'm just not sure whether I should wear my normal casual outfit on my date with Jeremy or if I should wear my fancy pink dress or my fancy purple dress or maybe something else. What do you think?"

Taylor stared at her, her mind wandering to the partially completed spidersilk skinsuit hidden in the old coal chute.

"I have... basically no eye for fashion," she finally admitted.

"...but your name is literally Taylor," Candace pointed out.

"And your name is Candace. What does that mean?"

"I... don't know," Candace admitted awkwardly. "I guess I'll have to look it up later. But seriously, you've got to have some fashion sense, I mean just look at you!"

Taylor glanced down at her basic black slacks and hoodie, before giving Candace a confused look. "I just threw these on this morning."

"Yeah, but... I mean..."

Candace stared at her for a moment.

Then her face fell into a flat scowl. "You're just one of those people that looks good in anything, aren't you."

Taylor shook her head. "I'm pretty sure I'm not--"

"Well, there's only one way to test that out," Candace declared, leaning in with an ominous expression. "We're going to have to go... ON A SHOPPING SPREE!"

"What."

"Oh this is going to be so much fun, I'll call Stacy and Jenny--no wait, Jenny's at another protest. Oh! Maybe Lisa will want to come!"

"You really don't have to do this," Taylor said. "I mean, it's not like I can buy new clothes."

"I'll buy them for you."

"I don't want you to waste money on me--"

"Pssh, it's not wasting money! It's clearly for science! Besides, I'm pretty sure my family's upper middle class or something." Candace was already packing her purse. "I mean, how else could Phineas and Ferb afford all the materials they need to build their inventions and contraptions and roller coasters and weird, strange, devices that constantly make my life crazy even though MOM never sees them--"

She spun around with a grin that aborted Taylor's attempt to crawl out the window halfway. "Anyway, the point is it'll be fun. And you'll get to see what the Googolplex Mall's like!"

After a moment, Taylor sighed, crawling back into the room. "Fine... but I reserve the right to not get anything."

"Sure, sure. Come on, let's go!" Candace grabbed her wrist and dragged her out. "The bus'll be leaving any moment!"

Chapter Text

"...so while predetermination of the basic scenario can lead to continued stagnation, it can also lead to interesting iteration and evolution upon examination of various introduced variables. And that is why fanfiction continues to propagate, despite or sometimes because of the dislike for the source material."

"Well," Baljeet said as he entered the backyard, "it sounds like we just missed a fascinating conversation."

Phineas turned to him with a smile. "Just a little scholarly discussion of internet sociology."

"Careful with that, Dinnerbell," Buford warned. "Tryin' to make sense of the internet can be one of the most dangerous things in the world."

"I'll keep that in mind. Oh, hello!" the boy added, greeting the blonde girl. "I don't think we've met before."

The girl shrugged. "My name's Missy Biron."

"Well, I'm Phineas Flynn, and this is my brother Ferb Fletcher."

"Yeah, it's... nice to meet you. Uh, quick check," Missy glanced around, "you are the ones that sent those gift baskets out to everyone yesterday, right?"

"Yes, yes we are," Phineas confirmed with a smile. "Did you like yours?"

"Oh, it was great! Very nice to receive in the middle of a very, VERY confusing day. It's just... kind of amazing that you made all of those in one afternoon. And that they could fly. And scan people."

"Oh, it was nothing," Phineas assured her. "We build more complex things all the time."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well--"

"Heeeeey Phineas," Isabella drawled as she entered the backyard. "Waaacha doooin'?"

"Talking with one of our new Brockton neighbors. Missy, this is Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, our neighbor from across the street. Isabella, this is Missy Biron, who just showed up to ask us questions about the gift baskets yesterday."

"Huh, neat."

"I mean, it--it's not just the gift baskets," Missy protested awkwardly. "It's more the whole... conceit behind... the gift baskets. Like, you do something like that every day?"

"Well, not exactly like that," Phineas allowed. "We like to mix it up a little. Sometimes we'll join a musical performance, sometimes we'll go to space, and sometimes we'll help the Fireside Girls."

"Speaking of which," Isabella interjected, "I was kind of hoping you'd be available to help us out with something. The Fireside Girls had planned a charity sale of homemade dolls today. We spent a few days making a lot of them, and we put them all in a warehouse for safekeeping, but..." She glanced at Missy awkwardly. "...well, Gretchen checked there today and all the dolls were stolen."

"Oh no!" Phineas gasped. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Yo Squealer! Happy Valentine's day or something!"

"Skiddy, what the heck?! What am I supposed to do with all these dolls, do I look like a girl to you?"

"Well you sure don't look like no hag!"

"I don't know and I don't really want to find out," Isabella admitted. "But the charity sale's scheduled for this afternoon, and we don't have anything to sell." She sighed dramatically. "All those poor kids and parents of kids and kids at heart, coming in to get a genuine Fireside Girl doll... I would really, really hate to disappoint them."

"And I would hate for them to be disappointed." Phineas turned to his brother. "Ferb, I know what we're going to do today!"

"Wait, wait wait," Missy held up a finger, "you're going to spend the afternoon making dolls?"

"Sure."

"You've gone to space before," Missy stressed, "and you're going to settle for making dolls?"

"I don't see it as settling for anything, honestly," Phineas replied. "I mean, space will be there for the next few billion years, but the charity sale is happening this afternoon."

"That... I mean... I guess I can see why you'd make it a priority, I'm just surprised," Missy admitted. "I would have thought you'd... do something more your speed."

"We like to go with the flow. Heck, one day we thought Perry had laid an egg, so we made a giant robotic platypus butt to help incubate it."

"Perry?"

"Yeah, Perry, our pet platypus. Uh, hmm." Phineas looked around. "Hey, where is he, anyway?"

"Good morning, Agent P," Major Monogrom began without preamble. "As you are no doubt fully aware, the unexpected merger of Danville and Brockton Bay is causing numerous logistical problems for all sorts of governmental organizations, including the OWCA. We've had to scramble agents to reassess the current location of various buildings, map out the new roads, frankly it's been a madhouse. This means our intel for today is less, well, informative than it would normally be."

An image appeared beside him, showing a familiar evil scientist entering the Googolplex Mall.

"Some of our analysts have suggested that Doctor Doofenshmirtz deliberately committed this act in a deliberate attempt to mess with our operations, thereby granting him the ability to act with impunity during our period of confusion. Personally, I don't have nearly as much confidence in his competence, but we're still not sure what he's up to. He could be trying to commit evil at the local mall. He might be shopping for components for his next nefarious scheme. Or maybe he's just buying a gift for his daughter. Still, you know the drill--look into the situation and make sure he doesn't make a mess of things."

Major Monogram scowled out of the large screen. "This is more critical than ever, Agent P. What information we have about our new neighbors suggests we may be entering an unprecedented period of criminal activity, villainous deeds, and malicious intent. We're talking more general naughtiness than the Coal Christmas of 1865."

Perry the platypus gaped in unabashed shock. He'd had an inkling of the situation--more than an inkling, given how he'd been present for the events causing it--but for things to be that bad... well, he'd have to keep an eye on the entire tri-state area.

"Your mission mandate is no longer merely stopping Doofenshmirtz from committing evil," Monogram continued sternly. "You must also ensure he does not purposefully or even accidentally contribute to the criminal element that is even now preparing to establish itself in our fair city. We'll try to have dossiers for them as soon as possible, once we can make contact with our Brockton counterparts. But for now, we need you to make absolutely certain that Doofenshmirtz is still doing... what he usually does. So you can stop him from doing anything worse." The major straightened up firmly. "Good luck, Agent P."

Perry saluted, put on his jetpack, and rocketed out of his secret underground base.

Chapter Text

There was something genuinely worrying about being transported to another world...

Well, okay, there were a lot of things worrying about being transported to another world. Even before the whole kerfluffle with Earth Aleph, history and fiction were rife with the dangers of leaving one's homeworld behind. And now everyone's phone was down, the streets were wrong, there were stores nobody recognized and strangers for neighbors... it was pretty stressful. So of course it was totally logical for Vicky to go out for some retail therapy. Heck, there was even a new mall to explore!

...a new mall, it turned out, that didn't take Earth Bet money.

"Sorry, miss, the card didn't read," the cashier said apologetically.

"Wonderful. And you're sure you can't take the dollar coins?"

"I don't think my boss would let me."

Vicky sighed, rubbing her temples. "This is going to be a big problem, I can tell..." Everyone from Brockton Bay was going to find that their money was worthless, and that would lead to a lot of desperation and poor choices. She could practically see the jump in robberies now. And of course, the heroes would try to keep things under control, which would pull their attention from the villains, and...

She sighed again. "Do you mind if I speak to your manager about this? Actually, no, I'm probably going to have to speak to the mall director first, this is bigger than a single store." Her eyes drifted to the bag of clothes, a mournful expression on her face. "Guess I'm not buying anything today."

"I can get those for you," said a new voice, as a brown-haired girl stepped up to the counter. "You'll take my card, right?"

"If the system works," the cashier agreed, watching her slide it through. "Aaaaaand... there you go, purchase paid for."

Vicky sighed with relief. "Thank you so much. I'll pay you back, I swear."

The girl shook her head with a laugh. "Don't worry about it, my mom's loaded. Vanessa Doofenshmirtz."

"Victoria Dallon, but my friends call me Vicky." The blonde grinned as she picked up her bag. "Hey, you're a local, right? You know the best places to shop around here?"

"I've got a good handle on the scene, yeah."

"Maybe you can show me around after I talk with the mall director."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Are you really going to talk with the mall director about your declined card?"

"My declined card? No. The potential declined cards of everyone from Brockton Bay? Yeah, that's going to cause issues." Vicky walked for the exit. "I mean, sure, we could stick to Brockton stores, but with the roads being the mess they are the mall's probably more convenient for some people. If they can't buy things here with their own money, they might... you know... resort to desperate measures."

"...What? Like... stealing, or something?"

"Or something," Vicky agreed dryly.

Vanessa shrugged. "I'm sure the police will be up to it."

"And what if they aren't?"

Vanessa smirked. "Well... let's just say Danville has its own collection of surprises."

"Right, lady," growled the man as he waved his switchblade, "give me whatever's in your purse!"

Professor Poofenplotz looked at him for a long moment, before shrugging. "You asked for it." She pulled her GoAwayIficator out of her purse, pointed it at the man, and zapped him into another dimension.

"...oooookaaaaay..." Vicky gave the girl a weird look. "….you gonna explain that?"

"If I did, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" Vanessa replied cunningly.

"That," Vicky began, before realizing she didn't know how to argue with that. "Whatever, where's the mall director's office?"

"Second floor, east wing, across from the liquid massage store."

"...you just know that?"

Vanessa sighed. "Let's just say my dad is... a character."

"Hello, excuse me!" Doofenshmirtz waved down a shop employee. "Do you know where the surgical bed are sold?"

"...Sir, this is a furniture shop. If you want hospital equipment, you're probably not going to find it here."

"What, why not? It's a bed! How hard can it be to find a bed?"

"An ordinary bed is designed to hold an intact body horizontal and keep it comfortable while it is unconscious, which is ultimately a very simple thing. A surgical bed is designed to hold a damaged body in place while experts carefully try to make sure said body does not die under their care. That is something that requires much more specialized equipment."

"...Huh." Doofenshmirtz rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I never thought of it that way."

"If you really want a surgical bed, you should probably be looking at specialist shops, not the public mall."

"Thanks for the tip! You don't mind if I look for an ordinary bed while I'm here, do you? I just took in a little girl and, well, I want to make sure she feels safe, you know?"

The store employee quirked an eyebrow. "Of course, sir. Although..." He paused. "Why exactly did you ask for a surgical bed in the first place?"

"She wants to perform surgery," Doofenshimrtz explained.

"...she wants to be a surgeon?"

"That's one way of repeating what I just said, yes."

"And... you wanted to get a surgical bed for her," the store employee clarified.

Doofenshmirtz frowned. "What, are you saying I shouldn't support my soon-to-be-adopted girl's interests?"

"I'm just saying that it... seems a little unusual to be getting a surgical table for... how old did you say this girl was again?"

"Oh, around twelve or thereabouts. Her previous, uh, foster family didn't exactly keep track." Doofenshmirtz shook his head. "Frankly I don't think they really cared for her as a person."

"Aaaah." The employee nodded. "I see. Well, in that case, I can point you toward a few good children's beds. And, if I may..." He leaned in conspiratorially. "We have a selection of particularly large plushies. Almost human-sized. Good way to practice surgical stitching without, you know, needing an actual person."

"Oh. Oh! Oooooooooh." Doofenshmirtz grinned, steepling his fingers evilly. "I'm picking up what you're putting down. Let's get moving!"

The employee smiled, leading him through the store and entirely missing the fedora-wearing platypus peering out of a ceiling tile.

Chapter Text

"Alright," Candace said, "now try this one on."

Taylor sighed, taking the dress and shutting the door again. "I've tried on a dozen outfits already, Candace."

"Yeah, so?"

"So why do I keep trying on more if we're not going to buy them?"

"To figure out what you're comfortable in!" Candace replied. "What good is an outfit you only wear once? You should wear every article of clothing you have on a biannual basis at least."

"...then isn't this all a colossal waste of time?"

"I don't think so."

"But I'm not going to be wearing this dress that often."

Candace blinked. "Why not? You look good in it."

"You've said that about everything I've worn so far," Taylor pointed out.

"And you've looked good in everything," Candace replied, nonplussed. "Well, okay, except the carrot outfit."

"I still don't know how you convinced me to try that on. Or why it was being sold in a clothing store..."

Candace gave her a strange look as she stepped out of the dressing room. "Why wouldn't clothes be sold at a clothing store?"

"It's--it's not clothes, it's a costume," Taylor pointed out.

Candace stared at her, trying to process the words.

"...Costumes," she explained very carefully, "are a type of clothes."

"That is technically correct, but most people don't have a costume in their closet."

"I'm pretty sure all my friends do. I know I have," Candace did some quick mental calculations, "at least ten closets in my costume. Wait, no, ten costumes in my closet."

"Ten?"

"Probably more, if I'm honest. There's the princess dress from when Phineas and Ferb helped make a movie, the outfit from my brief stint as a supermodel, the hot-dog outfit that has a complicated backstory, my Mom suit--"

"Your what now?"

"My Mom suit," Candace repeated. "It's a platypus costume."

Taylor took a moment to adjust her glasses. "...Is this another Danville thing? Like the music?"

"I mean, I guess it could be? I just always thought it was normal. What, don't they sell costumes in your world?"

"Not anymore."

"What? Why not?! Halloween alone would probably--"

"One word, Candace: Parahumans." Taylor gestured out the door. "Once people got powers and started dressing up, looking ridiculous became a way of broadcasting you were 'special'. After the first few dozen incidents where heroes and villains mistook trick or treaters as people that could shoot lasers from their eyes, the whole 'costumes for fun' thing really fell by the wayside."

"...that makes a weird amount of sense, actually," Candace conceded. "Still not going to get rid of any of my costumes. The Dangeraffe may once more rise if she is needed."

Taylor blinked. "Wait... do you have superpowers?"

"Technically no, but trying to bust Phineas and Ferb requires a metric ton of skills," Candace explained. "I need to be athletic enough to keep up with whatever they've made, smart enough to identify their latest project, and observant enough to figure out where they are at any given moment."

"I... see."

"Yeah, it's a full-time job. But relaxing is crucial too, you know, because otherwise I'd just go mad from stress. Which is one of the reasons why I go clothes shopping a lot! " Candace looked her over. "And you do look good in that dress, by the way, very elegant."

Taylor bit her lip, carefully not mentioning the large cart of equipment she could see Phineas and Ferb pushing down the corridor just outside the shop. "Uh... thanks, I guess."

"Girl, I'm just spitting facts! Now come on, this hat is TOTALLY you."

"Gretchen, how are we for cloth?"

"We've got twelve bolts of felt from the craft store and various other fabrics as well."

"Great! Holly?"

"Paint for the doll faces secured, ma'am!"

"Wonderful! Katie?"

"Couldn't get the usual plastic, the city fusion apparently shut down the ordinary delivery lines, but I did buy a lot of hand soap!"

Isabella frowned at the massive collection of bottles Katie pushed in on a trolly. "That's... hm. We're going to need to inject the color in somehow, and that means we'll need air filter masks...

"Not to worry," Phineas declared as he entered, "we've got just the machine to melt down that plastic and turn it into doll hands!"

"And what do we do with the soap in the bottles?" Buford groused. "I mean, that's a lot of soap!"

"Hmmm..."

Ferb tapped his brother's shoulder and pointed out the door.

"Oh, that's a great idea!" Phineas declared. "I mean, sure, we'll have to add a bubble-making machine to our final production, but that should only take... fifteen minutes, I think."

Missy stared at the increasingly complicated contrivances being assembled by children in the currently empty mall store. "Why do you need all this equipment to make dolls?"

"Well, over there we have the pattern press, there we have the plastic press, that's the cotton stuffing machine, that's the love and good vibes imbument device--"

"No no no, I'm not asking what they do," Missy clarified. "I'm asking why you need these machines for something like making dolls."

Phineas stared at her. "I'm... not sure I understand the question--"

"You could, hypothetically, sew the dolls together by hand," Missy explained. "Heck, it'd probably be cheaper. I mean, look at this, you've somehow managed to construct a miniature factory in the mall! A factory! For handmade dolls!"

"...I'm pretty sure my family's upper middle class or something," Phineas mused. "I mean, how else could Candace afford all those fancy dresses and concert tickets?"

Missy rubbed her temples tiredly. "It's not the expense that's the issue here," she groused. "I mean, yes, that's kind of the issue, but it's more a symptom of... the issue. I just... why? Why did you do this thing in this way?"

"Why did we come up with an overly complicated solution to a very simple problem?"

"...Yes. Yes, that's the question."

"Hmmm." Phineas tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I believe it would only be appropos to answer that question in a manner that exemplifies our reasoning for doing things the way we do them." He turned around with an authoritative clap. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for a musical number!"

Chapter Text

Phineas pulled out a screwdriver and started assembling some of the complex machinery, even as he began to sing (much to Missy's confusion).

The fireside girls were completely unphased, joining in the process of building things in a burst of spontaneous choreography that left Missy baffled.

It wasn't long before the machines were put together, a fact that surprised Missy almost more then the Fireside girls bursting into chorus.

And then Missy was somehow swept into the operation of complex machinery, Phineas looking over her shoulder and guiding her hands in a surprisingly simple pattern. Soon enough, she was putting plastic into a machine which popped out uncolored doll heads, despite never having worked anything more complicated than the Wards console before.

Dolls were assembled by the dozens in mere moments, every girl plus Phineas and Ferb coordinating in an intricate dance--and it was a dance, Missy realized, matched to the rhythm of a tune she hadn't heard till that very hour.

Missy wasn't sure what was more astonishing; the rapid assembly of the dolls, the sudden perfect choreography, or the fact she was able to keep up with it despite not having any training at all in either matter.

Phineas casually stepped off one of the higher pieces of machinery to stand on his brother's head. Ferb, for his part, accepted this with a slow pirouette. The girls (aside from an increasingly nonplussed Missy) backed him up with a series of hypnotic vocals.

The brothers proceeded to go through a series of intricate poses that Missy vaguely recognized as mimicking some famous works of art. Why, she couldn't fathom, but there it was.

Phineas finished his note and for a moment, a brief moment, there was a pause in the music, as everybody held very still. And then the boy spun on his toes, kicking back into gear as he pointed in rythym at the various components of the doll-making line.

He jumped on the circular display of dolls that they had somehow managed to make in the space of a few minutes, spreading his arms wide in an all-encompassing gesture as the music (which Missy only just realized was coming from some nonspecific point) rose to a final crescendo.

"...what... what just happened?" Missy asked after a moment.

"Oh, right, Brockton Bay doesn't have musical numbers for some reason." Phineas shrugged. "Yeah, they're a relatively regular occurrence in Danville. I think the whole Tristate Area has an average of three or four musical numbers a day...? I'd have to look up the statistics."

"That---okay, that's a little weird, but that's not what I was asking." Missy gestured at the panel in front of her. "I've never... done something like this before. I mean, this is heavy machinery, right?"

"I'd put it in the 'medium heavy' category," Ferb offered instead. "Not as heavy as actual heavy machinery, but still heavy enough to require some effort to move."

"...But it's still industrial equipment," Missy pointed out. "Which I have had no training for. And yet I somehow... just knew how to work it."

"I find a lot of people are gifted with unexpected talents," Phineas replied.

"That's not--do you seriously not see anything strange about this?" Missy insisted. "Is it just normal in Danville for kids to use industrial machinery?"

"Are you asking if we're a little young to be handling industrial equipment? Because yes, yes we are."

Phineas's casual statement prompted an expression of pure incredulity from the Brocktarian girl. Baljeet put a gentle hand on Missy's shoulder. "Listen, it's Phineas and Ferb. They just... do these things. It works! I tried questioning it a few times, using the scientific method, and... well, in the end, I found that it's better to just accept that they do these things."

Missy gaped for a moment or two, before shaking her head. "You know what? It's not my job to answer these sort of questions. I'm just here to... uh... I just came by to meet these two after those gift baskets. That's all."

"There, you see? Soooo much easier."

Missy casually pushed Baljeet's hand off her shoulder. "Whatever, we have dolls to sell for charity, I guess. Nothing about that is going to be weird."

Chapter Text

"Well, that's furniture plus a big teddy bear solved." Heinz Doofenshmirtz rolled his shoulders with a groan as he pushed the cart out. "Man, I should have brought Norm to carry all this stuff. But then I wouldn't have anybody to babysit Riley. I wonder how they're doing? I hope they aren't up to anything too destructive." He rolled his eyes. "What am I saying, one's a giant robot man and the other was practically raised by a cult of serial killers. They're probably terrorizing the rats in the building or something."

"And then she tore off his arm and ate it."

"That Sounds Like It Would Have Been Extremely Traumatizing To Witness!"

"Yeah, but Ned grew it back in, like, an hour. More tea?"

"Why Thank You! I Thoroughly Enjoy Partaking In Imaginary Beverages!"

"Horrifying to think about, really. Oh well, the sooner I get back the sooner I can fix whatever they broke." Heinz pulled out a paper, running his fingers down a list. "Now let's see, we've got furniture, new dishes, an experimental lab set up, sheets, pillows, some healthy but expensive foods for a growing child--actually, now that I think about it I'm going to need to have a talk with Riley about that, what with all the surgeries she's been through..."

"Chrrchrchrrrrr..."

Heinz looked down at the agent frowning up at him. "Oh hello, Perry the Platypus! Don't worry, I'm not up to any evil schemes today. I'm just getting things for Riley--you know, since my place is really only set up for me, Norm, and Vanessa when she visits. I'm kind of surprised you're here, actually, wouldn't OWCA be dealing with the whole Brockton situation?"

Perry gave him a flat look.

"Okay, yes, I know that I caused the Brockton situation, but it was an accident. And it's not like I'm going to do anything evil today."

Perry crossed his arms.

"You're going to stick to me like glue, huh? Alright, fine." Heinz looked at his shopping cart. "You know what, why don't you help me with my shopping? I'd get it done that much faster and you'd be able to keep an eye on me."

Perry considered the situation but, eventually, nodded his consent.

"Great! So we should probably get some toiletries. You know, toothbrushes, toothpaste, combs, that sort of thing. Hmm. While I'm thinking of it, we might want to get some new towels as well... Come on, Perry the Platypus, let's hit Watercloset Wonders!"

"Chrrrr."

"Yes it is a real shop. I should know, my cousin Narthelliot runs it. Funny story about that, really--"

"Oh look, there's Stacy and Lisa!" Candace waved eagerly at the pair. "Hi girls!"

"Hey Candace! Hey Taylor!" Stacy sauntered over idly to the pair. "How're you two doing?"

"Great! We've been doing a little shopping and expanding Taylor's wardrobe. Did you know she didn't have a single dress?"

"That's not nearly as surprising as you think it is," Taylor grumbled. "A lot of girls in Brockton don't have dresses."

"Yeah, you want to have your legs free for running," Lisa agreed.

"Ah, yeah, that makes sense. It's why I wear a skirt. That and I've got great legs," Candace mused. "Oh! Taylor! We should get you a skirt!"

"What?!"

"You'd look great in a skirt!" Candace insisted.

Taylor stared at her, as though she'd suggested the sun was a fine place for ice fishing. "...no I wouldn't."

"Yes you would, you've got fabulous legs."

"...no I don't."

"Oh god." Lisa put a hand to her temple. "Taylor, can you tell me who it is that filled your head with lies? Cause if they said you looked anything less than at least pretty, I think they deserve a punch or two."

"That's not--" Taylor cut herself off, shaking her head. "Look, I... I get that you're all trying to be supportive but honestly, I know what I look like."

"A gorgeous raven-haired teenager that's only two inches short to be a candidate for the next Flawless Girl spokesmodel?" Stacy offered.

Candace scoffed. "Flawless Girl advertising preys on the insecurities of young women."

"As I recall, you were wailing about being 'two inches too ugly' when they came to town to recruit you and risked permanent gigantification to make up for it."

"Yeah, well, I learned my lesson," Candace said. "And that's that I'm gorgeous no matter how tall I am."

"I'm pretty sure Taylor's not done growing," Lisa noted, peering at the dark-haired girl. "I think she might hit six feet or more."

"So I'll always be a lanky twig--? OW!" Taylor covered her head. "Hey, what--? Why do you have a rolled up newspaper?!"

"My coworkers are weird," Lisa replied, putting the newspaper back into her purse. "Now stop trying to pretend you aren't pretty and accept that twelve guys have checked you out since we started talking."

"That--what?" Taylor blinked. "That's not--I would have noticed that!"

"You'd be surprised what people miss," Candace replied. "I mean my mom still doesn't believe that Phineas and Ferb have done anything! She's been in the same room as some of their most obvious contraptions, literally two feet away, and she doesn't even hear it when the thing gets zapped by a beam from the sky or pulled out by a helicopter or whatever!"

She paused, taking in Taylor's concerned look, Lisa's baffled expression, and Stacy's amused smirk.

"My point is," she continued, "I can totally believe that you, Taylor, have somehow missed that you are a knockout. But you should trust us when we say you are. Me especially, I've actually been a model once or twice."

"...maybe there are different beauty standards between universes," Taylor mumbled, rubbing her arm uncomfortably.

Lisa sighed. "You know what, sure. We can go with that for now."

Taylor gave an exasperated sigh. "And how have you been adjusting to the city?" she asked Lisa. "I mean, I get that you got Stacy to buy you all this stuff--"

"Oh no, I bought it with my own money," Lisa replied.

"...but... this mall doesn't accept Brockton coinage."

"And by my own money, I mean I dropped by one of the local banks and opened an account with some collateral," Lisa replied smoothly.

"Collateral? Like what, exactly?"

"Just some Bet-exclusive tech."

"Yo Brian! Where's my Xbox?"

"What makes you think I would know?"

"I'll get it back as soon as I can transfer money from my Bet bank accounts to the local version," Lisa continued.

Taylor looked a little skeptical, for a moment, but she apparently decided to drop it. "I guess that makes sense...."

"It's a stopgap solution," Lisa admitted, "but you know what? I'm sure somebody's working on the problem right now."

Chapter Text

"...so the local banks are going to open conversation with the Brockton Banks to start opening up transitory accounts, and as part of that they'll be sending temporary credit cards to anybody from Brockton who signs up." The mall manager turned away from his computer. "In the interim, I've sent out a memo advising the storefronts in this building to accept Brockton coinage at a one-to-one ratio. That policy will likely go into effect tomorrow."

Vicky nodded. "That'll help a lot, thanks."

"And thank you for bringing this issue to my attention. Money matters may be more ephemeral than practical concerns, but a society runs on the exchange of goods and services as much as it does on those goods and services themselves."

"...huh, that's surprisingly deep," Vicky admitted.

"Political science major," the manager explained. "Surprisingly useful in this line of work."

"I can imagine. Anyway, I'll do my best to spread the word about this." Vicky got up out of the chair, backing out of the room. "The sooner the people of Brockton Bay know there's a safety net, the better. Thanks again!"

"Wow." Vanessa put a hand on her hip as they walked away from the office. "You were amazingly professional."

"Yeah, well, my mom's a lawyer. Taught me and my sister a lot of things." Vicky shrugged. "Hey, as long as I have you with me, you know any good shampoo stores in this place?"

"Oh, there's Watercloset Wonders. I've been meaning to talk to Cousin Narthelliot anyway."

"Cousin Narthelliot?"

"Part of the Doofenshmirtz family. Just, uh, try not to stare, okay?"

"Stare? Why would I stare?"

"You'll see," Vanessa assured her with a sly little grin.

Isabella tapped her clipboard with a grin. "It looks like dolls are flying off the shelves! Gretchen, your advertising campaign was excellent."

"Thanks!"

"Missy, you think you can rope some people from the Brockton Bay side of things into buying dolls?"

Missy sighed. "Yeah, that's probably not going to happen."

Isabella frowned in thought. "Right, you guys use dollar coins instead of bills. I guess incompatible currencies would prevent purchases."

"That's not--no, I mean," Missy rubbed her temples, "that's one of the reasons, but... it's more... dolls are happy things. For happy people. Brockton Bay isn't really a happy place."

"Well, Danville is a pretty happy place," Phineas pointed out. "So maybe now that Brockton Bay is here, you can all learn to be happy!"

"...I don't know if that'll work."

"We won't know until we try!"

Missy shrugged. "I mean, sure, but you might want to get ready to be disappointed. When things are so terrible for so long, any improvement is naturally viewed with suspicion. Believe me, I know," she added in a sullen undertone.

Isabella reached out a gentle hand to clasp her shoulder. "Missy... do you want a doll?"

"No."

"Because I'd be quite happy to give you one."

"I don't want a doll."

"Not even one you made yourself?"

"I have lived this long without dolls, I don't need one now."

"I would like a doll," Buford offered. At everyone's curious looks, he shrugged. "What? I can like dolls and still be tough."

"He has a point," Baljeet agreed.

Missy rubbed her temples. "Some of us," she said bluntly, "do not actually want to be 'girly'."

Isabella blinked, staring at her as though she'd started speaking a foreign language. "...is being feminine a bad thing in Brockton culture?"

"No. Yes. Kind of? It's--" Missy flailed her limbs. "Like, listen, people don't think that girls that wear skirts can hold their own against thugs."

"That's silly," Phineas said. "Our big sister Candace wears a skirt, and she's one of the most physically adroit people we know! Heck, she wrestled an alligator with her bare hands once!"

"...really."

"Yeah, that was a weird and complicated day," Isabella noted.

"Trust me," Phineas said, "Candace is definitely in touch with her feminine side, but she's also one of the toughest people in this city."

"OHMYGODIT'SSOCUTEI'MGONNADIE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Taylor clapped her hands over her ears as Candace screeched in adorifying joy and clutched a plushie of... some... weird... cat monkey thing? She wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, besides (apparently) adorable. Then again, she was on a whole other Earth. Lacking context for what was and wasn't normal was... probably to be expected.

"...The heck is a Bango-Ru?" Lisa muttered, looking over the plush lines.

"It's this whole toyline from Japan," Stacy explained. "My cousins are really into it. And also a bunch of people on this side of the ocean. It's... one of those weirdly charming things that probably isn't intended to make much sense."

"Huh." Lisa picked up a strange elephant bumblebee. "This is from Japan, really?"

"Yeah, Japan makes a lot of cool stuff. Video games, cars, toys... I probably wouldn't survive the working culture, though," Stacy admitted. "I'm a little too passive."

Lisa nodded, slowly putting the doll back on the shelf. "Wow."

"What, is Japan different on your world?"

"Yeeeeah, after Leviathan sunk Kyushu the entire country... basically started falling apart," Lisa admitted.

That statement was enough to snap Candace out of her cute-induced fuzzfit. "Wait, who did what now?"

"Levithan," Taylor said quietly. "Second of the three Endbringers. Giant monsters that attack once every three months--one at a time, thankfully, but they're still..."

"They're dangerous enough that they aren't considered polite conversation," Lisa finished for her. "Besides, they aren't here, and I don't think they're coming here. Let's talk about literally anything else."

"Uh... okay?" Candace put the weird japanese plush thing back on the shelf, sharing a concerned look with Stacy. "How about... oh, I know! You guys have superheroes, right? Who's your favorite?"

"Locally or worldwide?"

"How about both?" Candace suggested as they walked down the mall corridors.

"Hmm, okay. Worldwide, I'd have to say Alexandria," Lisa offered.

Taylor smiled wryly. "Oh that's an easy one. Every girl wants to be Alexandria. Super strong, super smart, and she can fly."

"Yeah, and she's the only girl in the Triumvirate--the leaders of the Protectorate, the national superhero organization," Lisa explained for the other two. "But if I had to pick locally..." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I think I'd go with... Assault."

Stacy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "There's a hero named Assault?"

"Yep. He's one of the more down-to-earth kinds, not stiff like Armsmaster or Miss Militia. Really gets what people go through, and generally has a quip for every situation. You need people like that on a team, no matter how irritating they might be, because otherwise the team's always going to be too serious."

"I would not have pegged you as a fan of the jokester," Taylor admitted.

"I have many secrets, and I guard them all with the zeal of a dragon. What about you, Taylor?"

"...Toss-up between Miss Militia and Armsmaster," Taylor finally said. "They both get the job done. When they're not being hamstrung by internal politics, that is."

Lisa hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting viewpoint..."

"Is there a reason these superheroes all have such military names?" Candace asked curiously.

"Because they're part of the government," Lisa replied. "To be fair, though, they don't all have aggressive names. Velocity is a speedster, sort of, and the Wards tend to have less violent names."

"Wards?"

"Underage parahumans who join the Protectorate for training. Vista, Gallant, Aegis, Kid Win, they're around our age or younger." Lisa tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "If I recall correctly, Triumph just graduated out of the Wards into the Protectorate proper..."

"...Huh." Candace put her hands on her hips thoughtfully. "You know, I never really thought about it, but making a separate group for underage superheroes and supervillains kind of makes sense."

"Yeah, one group wouldn't have a driver's license," Stacy agreed. "Among other things."

"Eh..." Lisa waggled a hand. "Some of them have powers that specifically require cars, but yeah, generally Wards are less... active then the Protectorate. For 'I don't want to see my kid battling villains' reasons."

"Oof, yeah, superhero parents must have a heck of a time," Candace agreed. "'It's past your bedtime, young lady! Stop fighting Boot von Stomp and go home!'"

Lisa snickered. "Boot von Stomp? What, does he have super kicking powers?"

"You'd think so, but really he shoots plasma from his hands. He just happens to have huge boots and likes kicking people." Candace turned to Taylor. "What do you think, Taylor? Should our hypothetical teenage superhero have a curfew?"

"Oh look, dolls," Taylor pointed out very calmly, as various flies and roaches around a dumpster outside freaked out.

Candace followed her pointing finger with her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's neat. Looks like the Fireside Girls are having a charity sale." She narrowed her eyes as she spotted a familiar pair of preteens. "And Phineas and Ferb are helping them..."

Stacy frowned, stepping forward. "Candace..."

"Stacy, come on, it's--"

"Candace, it's dolls." Stacy put a hand on her shoulder. "Ordinary dolls. Being sold for charity."

"...Mmmmmnnnnnnnnnnnnnnrrrrrrrrrrggggggrrrrrrmmmmmppppppphhhh...."

"I... don't see what the problem is," Taylor admitted. "I mean, I know Phineas and Ferb make impossible machines, but... are they actually hurting anybody?"

"Mmmmrrrghlfrgphnsnfrblwysgrrrrrrr..."

Lisa watched Candace's twisting expressions with abject curiosity. "...This is an actual compulsion for you, isn't it?"

"RRRRRmmmmmgrmlpfrgglgrrrrmmm..."

"Ahuh." Lisa glanced at the doll sale, then at Stacy. "If we don't let her investigate, what's the likelihood she'll have a mental breakdown?"

"At this stage, I'd give it forty percent odds." Stacy frowned. "I think. I don't know how odds work."

"Ahuh." The blonde looked at Candace for a few seconds more, before clapping her hands together. "Alright, just a brief check to make sure these kids aren't doing anything stupid or dangerous, then we get back to forcing Taylor through retail therapy. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Chapter Text

"PHINEAS AND FERB!"

Missy blinked as a red-headed teenager with an abnormally long neck stomped up to the brothers, who reacted with bright smiles. "Oh hi Candace!"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping the Fireside Girls make dolls to sell for charity."

The girl, Candace apparently, narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "And are you violating any laws of man, physics, or common sense to do so?"

Phineas looked at Ferb. Ferb looked over a clipboard, carefully tapping his pen down it, before shaking his head. Phineas turned back to the girl. "Surprisingly, no. No we aren't."

"That's debatable," Missy muttered. "Sorry, who are you exactly?"

"Oh, this is Candace, our big sister. Candace, this is Missy Biron, she's one of the new Brockton people. And that's Stacy, Candace's friend."

"Yo," said the asian girl walking up.

"And those two are Taylor and Lisa, Brockton natives. We just met them yesterday."

"Ah...huh," Missy said slowly. "Nice to meet you, I guess? I'm Missy Biron."

"Nice to meet you too, kid." Candace narrowed her eyes as she peered into the operation. "So there's nothing bust-worthy here?"

Phineas shrugged. "Not to my knowledge."

"Hrm. And what charity is this sale supporting?"

"Oh we're donating money to the Wheelchair Orphan Foundation," Isabella explained. "Every day, innocent wheelchairs are abandoned by families who no longer need them. The W.O.F. is raising money to make sure these wheelchairs are put into loving homes."

"...what," Missy said flatly.

Candace nodded, pulling out a few dollars. "That makes sense. Put me down for two dolls."

"What."

Baljeet tilted his head curiously. "Why are you reacting with such disbelief?"

Missy took a deep breath. "Baljeet," she said slowly, "wheelchairs are inanimate objects."

"Well, so is Kimpaloon the magical old-timey bathing suit that lives in the Himalayas, and he's an internationally loved and protected creature."

A dead silence descended on the group for a moment.

Eventually, Taylor rose a questioning finger. "I'm sorry, there's... a what living in the Himalayas?"

"A magical old-timey bathing suit," Candace repeated. "You know, white and green stripes, face on the chest, says NANG NANG NANG NANG all the time?"

Taylor stared at her, with an expression that was clearly questioning her sanity. There were similar stares from the other Brockton natives, which grew increasingly disturbed once the three of them realized they were the only ones who were staring.

"Yeah, uh..." Lisa cleared her throat, awkwardly breaking the silence. "We, we don't have that on Earth Bet."

"Huh. Weird."

"...Aaaaanyway," the blonde girl continued, "we have investigated your brother's current actions, and found nothing worth reporting to your mother about. Is your busting compulsion satisfied, or are you going to need to stand here and watch everything in detail?"

"Busting compulsion?" Missy asked.

"It is this whole thing with Candace," Baljeet explained. "She always attempts to show her mother what Phineas and Ferb are doing, but her mother never actually sees it happening."

"Fine, I'll give it a pass. For now." Candace took her purchases, gave one last pointed look to her cheerfully smiling brother, and then started cooing over the dolls in her hands. "Oh you two are adorable! You'll look great in my plushie collection."

"...I'd buy a doll too, but Brockton money isn't any good here," Taylor said, awkwardly rubbing her arm.

"Oof." Missy cringed. "That's going to be a big problem if people don't get ahead of it."

"I'm sure somebody's working on it," Phineas reassured her. "Heck, if it's still a problem tomorrow morning, we might handle it ourselves!"

"I... don't think you're legally qualified to handle interdimensional money exchange."

Candace narrowed her eyes. "No no no, let him talk. I'm very interested. In fact," she pulled out a pen and pad, "I'm willing to take notes."

"Oh, that's a great idea! In fact, why don't we all meet up at the food court to talk about this after we're done selling these dolls?" Phineas nodded toward Candace's friends. "You two almost certainly have a good viewpoint on the Brockton side of things, so we can come up for a plan for tomorrow!"

"I, uh, could probably also contribute," Missy interjected quickly. "Call my aunt and uncle for their own thoughts."

Taylor adjusted her glasses. "My dad's with the union, but... well, I don't have a cell phone. Personal reasons."

"I can call him," Lisa offered. "I mean, if you're comfortable giving me his work number."

"...I don't see how you could possibly abuse it..."

"You just don't have the proper imagination."

Taylor frowned. "Okay, now I'm concerned."

"We can talk about it while we keep shopping," Lisa offered, picking up a doll and handing it to her. Isabella narrowed her eyes, holding out a hand. "Alright, alright, hold your horses, I've got your money here..."

"I was not expecting your cousin to look like that," Vicky admitted as she stepped out of the shop. "You sure he's not a case 53?"

"I don't know what that is, but no. The Doofenshmirtz family just has a number of odd lookers." Vanessa put a hand on her hip, gesturing. "Case in point."

Vicky blinked, turning to see a man in a labcoat pushing a rather large cart and accompanied by... a teal platypus in a fedora? "Er..."

"Oh hi Vanessa!" the man greeted in a cheerfully grating tone. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Victoria Dallon, she's one of the Brockton people. Vicky, this is my dad, Heinz Doofenshmirtz."

"Oh! Uh... it's nice to meet you, mister Doofenshmirtz." Vicky glanced at the platypus again. "And... uh..."

The platypus chirred, tipping his hat slightly.

"Oh, that's Perry the Platypus," Vanessa added casually.

"...Nice to meet you too?"

"Perry the Platypus is helping me pick up supplies for--hmm." Heinz rubbed his chin awkwardly. "I just realized, I haven't told you that you have a new little sister yet."

The shock on Vanessa's face was so intense, Vicky thought she could hear the dramatic musical sting. No, wait, she actually could hear the dramatic musical sting, there was a trumpet player literally standing right behind them.

"...Uh..." She looked the man up and down. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm practicing for my audition into the choreography corps."

"The what now?" Vicky asked.

"Hold on," Vanessa held up her hands, "how can I have a sister? I know you and mom haven't gotten back together, and... no offense Dad, but I didn't think you've been with any other woman long enough to get to that point."

A dramatic trumpet tone played at that statement.

"Oh no, I haven't," her father reassured her. "But this girl popped into my apartment after the whole city merge. I tried to get her back home, but that didn't really work out... and, well, I'm pretty sure her birth parents have passed on anyway."

"Oh. Okay, so this is just an adoption." Vanessa let out a low breath. "Okay, that, that I can understand. You nearly freaked me out there!" She frowned as the trumpet player started on a comedic tone. "No, no, this isn't funny. More a relaxed acceptance."

"Aw, darn," the trumpeteer said. "I thought I was really reading the mood."

"Is this normal?" Vicky asked. "Do people just come up and play background music all the time?"

"It's not usually this blatant, but it's pretty clear this guy's an amateur."

The trumpeteer sagged, wandering off as he played a dejected tune.

"He wasn't doing that badly," Heinz said. "Give him a couple of months!"

"...ooooooookaaaaaaaay..." Vicky let out a breath. "So... new sister, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I remember when my mom brought Amy home. That was an adjustment..."

Chapter Text

"You know, it's oddly relaxing to know that Phineas and Ferb aren't doing anything unusual." Candace cradled her purchases in one arm as she examined the mall stores. "Like part of me can't help but think they must be up to something, but I already know their plan for the day, so it doesn't act up too much."

"That is one hell of a compulsion you've got there," Lisa observed. "Have you ever thought of seeing a psychiatrist?"

"I mean, I've signed up to find one, but a lot of the psychiatric offices in Danville are seriously backed up. Probably has something to do with that whole zombie pharmacist outbreak a while back."

Taylor blinked. "...sorry, the what now?"

"Yeah, there was this weird condition going around," Stacy explained. "The mayor got hit by one of those energy beams, turned into a mindless guy in a labcoat, and started wandering around. Anybody he touched turned into the same mindless guy, then anybody they touched did as well... luckily the whole thing was apparently based on a variation of static electricity, so Phineas and Ferb tapped the water tower to sprinkle Danville, and a good rain dealt with the rest."

"I was actually one of the last victims," Candace added. "Helped hold off the mob long enough for the boys to get to the water tower."

The casual, offhand tale made both Lisa and Taylor stare at the girls in abject horror, as though they had admitted to living through a horrific natural disaster. Or, well, an unnatural disaster. Now that Candace thought about it, the whole situation was actually pretty terrifying to think about, and to live through. Was that why everybody was desperate for a psychiatrist in the weeks after? She'd just shrugged and moved on, but then again, she was used to dealing with unusual situations...

"I actually didn't learn about it until after the fact," Stacy added. "Stayed home watching movies. Craziest thing."

"Ah... huh." Taylor adjusted her glasses warily. "And does that... sort of thing... happen often?"

"What sort of thing?" Candace asked.

"You know, big city-wide events that endanger a large population?"

"Eh," Stacy shrugged, "yes and no? There's a lot of stuff that happens that could become a big problem, but they get handled pretty quickly. We only really get big crises like that... I want to say every other month? I'd have to check the official statistics."

"...I... see."

"So where does Brockton Bay suddenly popping up fit on the local crisis scale?" Lisa asked.

"Eh, put it at a six out of ten. Serious, but not severe."

"Good to know!" Lisa pulled out her phone. "On an unrelated note, I need to make a few calls to some friends."

"Oh I know how that feels," Candace said. "Wait a second! We should all exchange phone numbers!"

"I, uh... I don't have a phone," Taylor admitted.

Candace and Stacy both gasped in horror.

"What? I already told you this. It's not that weird..."

"Girl," Lisa deadpanned, "we live in a world with capes. You need a phone, if only to tell your dad if you get caught up in a cape fight. Or a random musical number," she added contemplatively. "Or a minor zombie outbreak. Or... uh..."

"Or you get kidnapped by aliens," Candace offered.

"....yyyyyeah. Or that." Lisa gave Candace an odd look. "That happen often?"

"Oh you have NO idea, trust me."

"...Huh."

"What?" Missy looked at Isabella. "What is it?"

"Well, we've sold all the dolls, which is good, but now I'm wondering what's going to happen next."

"...Excuse me?"

"I mean, look at this." Isabella gestured at the large collection of machines in front of her. "This is all the stuff Phineas and Ferb made for us today, and it's all... still here. Usually it just disappears somehow. But it's... here. Standing there."

"Things don't just... disappear," Missy pointed out. "There has to be a reason for it!"

"Well, there was that one time Candace tried to figure things out," Isabella mused. "That ended with her dumping paint on the yard."

Missy opened her mouth, paused, and slowly closed it. "...so," she decided to say, "you're waiting for something weird to happen to make all this stuff vanish?"

"Yep."

"Instead of, possibly, dealing with it yourself? Wait, what am I saying," Missy corrected, "you can't handle this sort of thing, you're a kid."

Isabella frowned. "For your information, I already got my industrial recycling badge. All the girls did. As well as a commendation from the city safety inspector."

"...I have so many questions, I don't even know where to start."

"Didn't you read the invitation pamphlet? I know Phineas and Ferb put one in each of the gift baskets."

"I, ah..." Missy cleared her throat. "I haven't really had the opportunity to do more than skim it. It's only been a day!" she added at Isabella's look. "I just got transported to another world! Where things like flying gift basket swarms are apparently normal!"

"...alright, but you really should read it. The Tristate Area has some local policies that don't really appear anywhere else in the country."

Missy glanced at the miniature factory that two prepubescent boys had made offhandedly to mass manufacture dolls for sale. "Yeah, I can believe that."

Isabella rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Still, gotta figure out what to do about all this."

"It's not like somebody is going to just walk up and offer to take it off our hands," Missy agreed.

"Oh my god, what are these things?!"

Missy and Isabella were almost bowled over by a blonde woman in dirty khaki coveralls. Really dirty, Missy noted--grease stains and other stains intermingling into a rust-colored pattern that wouldn't look out of place at the bottom of a trash can. The tools hanging off her belt were equally unclean, though clearly maintained enough to be functional. And the sense of being overly used extended to her very face, smudged with oil and eyes reddened with drug use.

"Those are our doll manufacturing machines," Isabella explained brightly. "Phineas and Ferb put them together to help the fireside girls after the dolls we made for charity were stolen."

The woman frowned, almost as if connecting something. "Stolen?"

"Yeah, darndest thing. We stored them all in a warehouse, checked on them every day, and then this morning, poof! They were gone."

"...huh. Weird. Anyway..." She pulled out a wallet. "How much for these things?"

Isabella glanced at her hands. "You should know that the city hasn't quite set up an exchange rate for Brockton money yet."

"Oh."

"Not that it matters," she continued. "You can just take these. We're done with them anyway."

"Oh! Great!" Without another word, the woman pushed the machines together and wheeled them out the door.

"...Isabella?" Missy said, very calmly.

"Yes?"

"That was Squealer."

"...Who?"

"A small-time supervillain working for a drug-pushing gang," Missy explained. "She makes superpowered vehicles."

Isabella blinked, looking after the woman, who vanished around the corner with her haul.

"...Huh." After a moment, she shrugged. "I'll have to keep an eye out for her from now on, I guess."

Chapter Text

"...and that is why Amy hates strawberries," Victoria finished with a shrug. "So yeah, adjusting takes time, but trust me, it's worth it."

Vanessa nodded thoughtfully. "Wow. You know, I'm... still kind of surprised about the new little sister thing, but after Norm, I guess I can understand. Speaking of which, how's Norm doing?"

"Oh he's doing well," her father said. "In fact, he's babysitting Riley while I'm out shopping!"

"Is he... qualified for that?"

"I made him an instruction manual, no worries."

"Can I have another cookie?"

"This Book Says That I Should Not Feed You Too Many Sweets!"

"I mean you shouldn't do that to an ordinary girl, but I totally adjusted my own digestive system to get rid of those problems."

"That Is Something I Can Believe! Okay, You Can Have Another Cookie, But You Cannot Let Doctor Doofenshmirtz Know!"

Victoria boggled a bit. "You made an instruction manual for babysitting?"

"Yeah, Norm loves instruction manuals," Doctor Doofenshmirtz explained casually. "Has a whole library of them he reads."

"I'm still surprised he got a manual for a nuclear submarine," Vanessa added.

"Oh he bought that one online--"

"You let the man who has a manual for a nuclear submarine babysit your adoptive daughter?" Victoria asked, concern clear in her voice.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "My dad hangs out with a platypus, and I turned out alright. No offense, Perry," she added.

"Chrrrhrrhrr."

"Right. Yes. That." Victoria ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, I have to ask: Is the platypus in the hat a normal thing here?"

"Oh yeah, there's this whole organization," Doofenshmirtz said casually. "I mean, they aren't all platypuses, there's a lot of--"

"MAKE A HOLE PEOPLE!" A woman ran past, pushing a collection of semi-industrial looking machines.

Victoria blinked. "Wait--that's SQUEALER! Holy shit I've got to go, uh, nice meeting you Vanessa and Vanessa's dad and... Vanessa's dad's platypus friend..." Shaking her head, she flew after the rapidly retreating woman.

"...Huh." Vanessa put a hand on her hip. "Didn't know she could fly."

"That is odd," Heinz agreed. "Not that there's anything wrong with it."

"No, of course not." Vanessa glanced at the shopping cart. "So... new sister, huh?"

"Yeah. She's a little delicate right now, so I don't know if she's ready to meet you--"

"No no, I get that. But what if I, I dunno, bought some dolls or something for her? Just as a way to say 'I'm your new sister, and I want to get to know you', sort of thing?"

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! Come on, Perry the Platypus, we've got some shopping to finish."

"Thanks for buying us food, Candace." Taylor looked at her meal. "Although I don't know why you insisted on pizza..."

"It's tradition! Teenagers, talk, pizza. I mean, we can get other stuff, but why would we?"

"Oh I don't know," Lisa quipped as she hung up her phone, "we could be on a diet or lactose intolerant or trying to avoid stereotypes..."

Candace narrowed her eyes. "Are you any of those things?"

"Nah, I just wanted to mess with you." Lisa turned to Taylor. "Your dad says hi, by the way."

"Thanks," Taylor deadpanned. "And his thoughts about the money thing?"

"The banks have apparently started contacting the various big businesses and each other, and they're working out a credit card thing. The specifics should be online. If, you know, you have a computer that connects to the local internet."

"Well that's good," Candace said.

"Until people spend all the money on their credit cards and go into debt," Taylor replied blandly.

"Ooof, yeah, credit card debt is the worst," Stacy agreed. "I had a cousin who went into debt. Spent six months working as a department store mannequin."

"...you mean working on the mannequins."

"Nope. As."

Taylor stared at her with confusion. "That... cannot be legal."

"Different world, Taylor," Lisa reminded her. "Different rules. We've seen that ourselves."

Taylor would have objected to that, but at that very moment Phineas and Ferb walked in, followed by their friends. "I see your point," she conceded.

"Hey everyone!" Phineas waved. "How are things with the money situation?"

"The banks are handling it," Taylor replied. "Something about credit cards."

"Huh. Well, I'm not sure that will work out in the long run, but as a stopgap measure I suppose it's alright," Phineas said, taking a slice of pizza.

"I think we ran into one of those super villains you were talking about, Taylor," Isabella added. "At least that's what Missy says."

Taylor stiffened. "You... did?"

"Squealer," Missy reported. "The Merchants are small-time, technically, but she did take that doll-making equipment, and she is a tinker, so... yeah, expect the sale of illegal drugs to go up."

Stacy frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know if there's a market for illegal drugs in Danville. We've got a lot of crazy things going on already, I don't think anybody wants to start hallucinating on top of that."

"Well, the Merchants will find a way," Missy grumbled. "Gangs always do in Brockton Bay."

"But we're in Danville," Candace pointed out.

"Is that really going to make a big difference?" Missy asked sarcastically.

"Hey buddy. You want to buy some good stuff?"

"Thanks pal, but I'm good. I've already got plenty of balloon animals at home."

"Balloon ani--? I was talking about weed!"

"Oh, my lawn's filled with weeds already, don't worry. But thanks for caring about the environment!"

"I think it might," Candace replied simply. "I mean the last time we had a supervillain in town, he lasted all of one day before giving up."

Missy blinked in confusion. "...Huh. Really?"

"Yeah, that was a wild afternoon," Stacy confirmed. "Protip, wandering around in a giant hamster ball is sloooooooow."

Taylor glanced at her weirdly. "I... suppose it would be."

"...I'm going to need to keep coming over to your place to figure out half of what's going on, aren't I?" Missy stated in a flat, tired voice.

"Well not always," Phineas replied. "Sometimes we do projects somewhere else!"

"Wonderful." Missy rubbed her temples. "At least it's not going to be boring."