From that one prompt that said 'Heinz Doofenshmirtz has died'
The main console nearly bowed to the power of Perry's fists as he slammed them down, chair behind him clattering to the ground from the force at which he stood. He glared up at the screen, murder in his eyes and a ferocious curl to his lip. That was not funny.
Major Monogram and Carl glanced at each other, then back down at Perry with some amount of trepidation. Everyone knew of Perry's less-than-professional connection to Heinz Doofenshmirtz; they just didn't know how deep that connection ever went. "We understand that this might come as a bit of a... shock. We just got the news ourselves."
Perry's fists clenched even harder, if such were possible; his nails dug into his palms as he ground his teeth. Heinz, dead? Impossible. He had just thwarted him yesterday. The resultant explosion from his self-destruct button shouldn't have been near enough to cause serious harm. Not to the most resilient man he knew. Could it be? Did someone finally manage to thwart his nemesis? But that was his job. Who else... What else...?
( If this was Peter's work, he thought savagely, then OWCA would have a rogue agent on its hands in no time flat. )
「Show him to me,」demanded the agent without preamble, his signage snapped out restlessly. He held up a finger when Carl opened his mouth to object.「Now.」
Carl pressed a button. A pneumatic tube appeared next to Perry, which he tried not to hurry into. His mind was still reeling from the news... If it was news. Some elaborate plan, perhaps — or a duplicate, a clone, a doppelgänger of some sort. He'd cloned Perry before. Why not himself? He felt sick. His stomach was tying itself in knots. It was as if his body knew, even if he refused to believe it himself. Don't be dead, Heinz, he prayed, his heart beginning to ache as its beat thundered in his ears. Don't. Don't. Don't.
The morgue was clean in a way that was disturbing even to Perry. Every inch of it gleamed with a sickening promise. I will take him, it whispered as Perry exited the tube. I will take him and tear him apart.
He was so small.
Perry swallowed hard and approached the gurney, his body beginning to shake. Monogram and Carl stood nearby the tube, but he didn't care about his audience just now. Heinz — wonderful, ridiculous, extraordinary Heinz — lay there cold and lifeless. His arms were missing; someone had put them to the side in preparation for the autopsy, he guessed, but it only served to make his nemesis look... Tiny. Frail. Helpless. His fingers danced over his narrow forehead, down his cheek and along his neck where he finally stopped to check for a pulse. He bent, listening for a cough, a breath, anything, but nothing came. His own breath caught in his throat. No. No-no-no.
Ever so slowly, ever so painfully, Perry realized that yes, he was looking at his esteemed beloved cherished nemesis. He could remember every burn, every scar, both pink and grey, old and new. They were all there. Every single mark, every single story, mapped out on the stiff body displayed before him.
Perry choked.
Was he sick, or was that a sob? There was a constriction in his throat that he didn't recognize, and a wetness in his eyes that he refused to name. He breathed hard through his mouth, tried to let the pressure out, but he couldn't. For once, Perry the Platypus couldn't control himself. His fingers clenched on the side of the gurney as he tried and failed to stem his tears, determinedly blinking them away. Heinz wouldn't want him to cry. He would never want Heinz to see him crying. He needed to be the personification of unstoppable, dynamic fury that Heinz knew. For Heinz, he needed to be Agent P.
I never got to tell you, he lamented, and let his fingers trace over Heinz's cheek again. I never got to tell you... but I will show you.
He took one last look at Heinz, not knowing what his expression looked like — not wanting to know what his expression looked like — and turned away, heading back for the tube.
"Agent P — " Monogram tried; but Perry shouldered past him and took the tube back to his lair, where he shouldered his jetpack and headed straight for Doofenshmirtz Evil, Inc. He would find out who did this if it took his last breath.
And they would pay.
