These hearts of ours glow with a burning courage! Their thunderous beats tell us to grasp at victory and defeat injustice! Now, take this! Our love, our anger and all of our sorrows! Together we rise!Together we are Travelers!-Opening statement of the Traveler's Guide.

Phineas Flynn was one of the most successful architects in England. He had designed buildings that could withstand most bombs. That was his claim to fame; making buildings that time and again did not fall down. Oh, sure, he had gotten multiple offers to work on military projects, mostly weapons, but he always declined on the grounds that he did not want to build weapons. He considered himself a moderate success.

So why exactly was he face-down in the dirt while a bunch of kids giggled?

"Flynn!" Buford's gravelly voice shouted, "That may have been the most pathetic example of a fight I have ever seen! And I saw a weasel fight Baljeet once. Just horrible, just very horrible. You are nowhere ready to defend yourself against fruit let alone against an unarmed opponent!" He turned to the the group of teenagers who were still giggling, "To end this session, I want all of you to run from here to the mess hall and back!"

A groan was heard, followed by the pattering of feet jogging in rhythm. Phineas decided to stay on the ground. The packed dirt was cool and soothed his bruises. He winced when he felt the toe of a boot poke him in the ribs.

"Flynn, didn't you hear me? Just because we were friends doesn't mean you get to skip out on training. Get up."

Phineas felt two hands gently pick him up; he doubted they were Buford's hands. "Perhaps I should I take Mister Flynn to the infirmary, Mister Buford?" A young voice questioned.

Buford sighed, "Why not? Ferb is probably going to kill me once he realize how beaten up Dinna Bell is."

Phineas' arm was swung around a neck of a person somewhat shorter than he was; his ribs and shoulders burned at the motion and he let out a small squeak of pain.

Buford rolled his eyes and grumbled something about pain tolerance.

"Ah, don't worry about being defeated by someone younger than you. I mean, I've been training with Mister Buford since I was ten. You just got here three days ago. My name's Samuel Colbert by the way. First and last name because there are others Samuels around here, but I'm the only Samuel Colbert, you know?" Samuel half carried and half dragged Phineas to a small hut beyond the ring of packed dirt. Phineas made it a point to ignore the barely disguised glares of some of the pedestrians. He kept his gaze pointed towards the ground of blue dirt and rocks. He was really starting to hate the color blue. It was everywhere, in the ceiling, in the dirt, in his food, in his and the clothes of every single kid. The loose pants and baggy long sleeve shirt were indeed blue even by candle light. He knew, he had seen them.

"Why am I wearing the kids' uniforms?" Phineas asked, keeping his eyes to the ground. He did not want to meet the eyes of the other Travelers. Something about their gazes made him feel uneasy.

Samuel laughed, "This isn't the kids' outfit. Anyone who isn't certified to be a proper agent in their respective fields wears the blue outfit until they are skilled enough. It's in the Traveler's Guide, haven't you read it?"

Phineas coughed and chuckled, "I've started on it."

"You better read the thing soon. Southpaw prefers that all Travelers know it backward and forward, you know?"

Phineas grimaced. He still wasn't used to the idea of Isabella being a ter- a leader of a revolution. He briefly wondered why he hadn't seen her around for the last three days.

Coming to a stop in front of the hut, Samuel called out, "Miss Sarah! Miss Sarah, are you busy? I have a patient!"

The wooden door opened and a young woman with brown hair and blue eyes peeked out form behind it, "A patient? What happened?"

Samuel chuckled, "Well, Mister Buford said it was a good idea to break him in and he said 'you and him fight' and we did, and I beat him, you know?" Samuel unwound Phineas' arm from his neck and slightly pushed him towards the young nurse, "Miss Sarah will take care of you. I, on the other hand, have to go. Southpaw hates it when we're late to strategy lectures, you know?" With that the young man walked out the door and disappeared behind the flimsy wooden door.

Sarah walked towards a cabinet and pulled out a small vial, "Training, right? Was it just a fight or was it with weapons?"

Phineas sat down on one of the cots and winced, "Just a fist fight, with lots of kicking. And the ground hitting me repeatedly."

Sarah chuckled, "You weren't hitting it?" She mixed some some powders together into a small cup and stirred some water into it.

"No, I'm pretty sure the ground hated me." Phineas smiled. He knew a pity laugh when he heard one. He was just glad that she was polite enough to give him one.

Sarah smiled and handed Phineas the cup of water, "Drink this. It should numb the pain. Unfortunately, I don't have any salve to clean up those wounds, so...spread a bit of dirt on that?"

Phineas stared at the nurse in shock.

She threw her hands up in defense and said,"Kidding. It was a joke."

Phineas nodded, "I see," and downed the drink.

All at once he heaved, coughed and choked. He wasn't sure why, but the drink, which he was sure was room temperature, burned his tongue and throat. Phineas was certain his taste buds were completely gone now. He gasped and tried to breathe, "What is in this drink?"

Sarah shuffled awkwardly, "Sorry, I seem to be running low on some supplies and the necessary ingredients to actually make that drink tolerable."

Phineas nodded and tried to drink the rest of the liquid fire, "Why are you running low on supplies?" His taste buds were still there. Joy, now he could taste another dinner consisting of bean and rice soup.

Sarah sighed and leaned against the door-frame, "About three months ago we had a battle that lasted for two days. In the aftermath, we had a lot of wounded and that's where all the medicine went."

Bitterly swallowing the rest of the drink, Phineas grimaced and asked, "Shouldn't Isabella know that you need more medicine?"

Sarah stared at Phineas with a gaping mouth. Confusion was written on her face, her brow was crinkled and her eyes squinted., "Who are you?"

Phineas felt a cold pit in his stomach. He had done something wrong, he just didn't know what. Coughing and apprehensive he answered, "I'm Phineas Flynn."

"That's not what I meant. I mean, who are you to refer to Southpaw in such a familiar manner?"

"We were friends when we were younger." He briefly reminisced about those summer days, they all seemed so long ago and unreal.

Sarah nodded and handed Phineas a cup filled with water. At his face she stated, "It's just plain water, I swear." Phineas drank the small amount of water greedily desperate to rid himself of the acrid taste.

Sarah smiled and said, "Why don't you get out of here? I'm sure you have better things to do than to talk to the nurse."

"Okay, then. So...I'll see you around?" he asked with a hopeful tone.

"Yeah, sure. Hopefully not because you're in need of more treatment." The young nurse flashed a cheesy smile.

Phineas chuckled, "Let's hope so."

Isabella let her head fall to the desk in front of her. Repeatedly. She had so much paperwork to fill out. One stack, in her opinion an unholy amount of paper, was nothing but forms requesting her permission to do stuff. Apparently, the Seventh Empirical Army could not so much as breathe before she signed a form. For if they did, then The Empire risked ninety thousand soldiers suddenly rebelling. As such, all orders had to be cleared by General Shapiro.

The second, much larger stack of papers, even more unholy in its massiveness, was nothing but requests for her to do something. The Travelers were in a predicament. If they moved without permission, they jeopardized any future plans. As such every move had to be approved by Southpaw.

The only thought crossed Isabella's mind at the moment was, 'Don't I have people to do this for me?'

Django was sleeping. He was supposed to be taking stock of how much food they had, but he had asked a random passerby to do it for him. He had been very persuasive. Now he was taking a nap in the storage room. In his opinion, it was a well deserved nap. Even if he was napping between two sacks of rice. Nothing could wake him. Nothing would wake him. Not even the voice of an angel.

"Oy, you lazy bum, get up!'

Adyson's voice was the furthest thing from an angel's voice Django had ever heard. And angels did not poke you in the ribs with the toe of their boots. Or wear boots for that matter. He rolled over on his side and tried to ignore the ticked off ace.

"Hey! Get up, will ya? That slave driver has been hounding me about you not turning in your paperwork."

Django's eyebrow twitched, "Where do you get off calling Isabella a slave driver? Insulting the boss is a privilege reserved for those who actually work. All you are is a pilot. No administrative duties, no paperwork, no right to insult the boss. That's how a corporation works." He burrowed himself deeper between the sacks of rice, desperate to go back to his sweet slumber.

He would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for that meddling pilot picking him up by the collar of his shirt and forcing him to face her.

"You know, you really shouldn't be sleeping between the rice. It's not sanitary," she eyed him. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his gaze seemed distant.

"It's not so bad. I mean, the rice isn't dirty or anything." Django yawned and closed his eyes.

A young girl ran up to them, with a sack in her hand and a worried look on her face, "All the food is gone." She gasped out between breaths, "As in, there's only enough for three days or so," She held up the sack and turned it upside down, "As far as I can tell, the sacks were chewed through."

Adyson chuckled, "This is great," she swung her arm around Django and pulled him close, "You know why, right?" She drawled out the last word, her eyes gleamed dangerously.

Django did not like that look. It usually meant he was going to get dragged somewhere and do something. He just wanted to sleep, "No, what does it mean?"

Adyson pointed at the young girl, "You. Fetch Isabella. Bring her here, " The young girl nodded and jogged out of the warehouse, "What it means, dear boy, is that with the lack of food, our brave leader is going to be forced to stage a raid for supplies. And I shall snake myself into that raid!" She threw her arms in the air and laughed, "Finally, I won't be stuck in this cave! Bored! With nothing to do!"

Django groaned, "Please, stop shouting. It's really embarrassing. How are you going to get in the raiding party, anyway? Isabella rarely lets you go on them."

"I have an ace up my sleeve," she grinned.

Django raised an eyebrow, "An ace?"

"Well, more like a joker."

His eyebrow went higher.

"And there's two of them."


"And they're brothers."

Django sighed.

"It's Phineas and Ferb."

"Metaphors aren't your strong suit, are they?"

Adyson laughed, "That requires subtlety! And you know my stance on that!"

Django rubbed the bridge of his nose, annoyance evident on his face, "It's for the weak." He rubbed his eyes, they were stinging now. He really needed to get some sleep, sleeping so little was bad. It was bad and a sin as far as he was concerned. He felt his eyelids getting heavier. The next thing he felt was his arm being moved and an arm being wrapped around his waist.

"Alright. Don't fall down or nothing," Adyson spoke, mostly to herself. Django had fallen asleep.

Isabella walked into the storage room, mumbling to herself, "Rats couldn't have just gotten in..tight security all round the storage facility..."

"Oy, crazy! You've noticed how all of our food is gone then?" Adyson shouted across the room towards the jacket wearing girl.

Isabella nodded, "What strikes me as odd is that rats were able to infiltrate the storage facility and destroy so much food in such a short amount of time."

"Could be Platy-rats. They're hungry things after all," Adyson pointed out.

"But the question remains, how did they get in the storage? All the guards know full well to keep the doors locked unless the cooks require ingredients. More to the point, who gains from the destruction of our food supply?" Isabella ran her left through her hair. Adyson recognized it as a nervous habit. After all, Isabella had lost her bow ages ago, and her hair had a tendency to fall in front of her eyes.

Adyson scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I am amazed at your rationale. Not everything is a conspiracy against you. Some poor schmuck probably left the doors unlocked and that's how the platy-rats

got in."

Isabella glanced at Django briefly before returning her gaze to her ace, "It's best to err on the side of caution."

Adyson snorted, " 'Best to err on the side-' who speaks like that? Really, you sound like a badly written comic book character!" She stifled her laughter, "Listen, since there's going to be a raid tonight, I have a suggestion."

Adyson moved Django around in such a way so as to be able to carry him on her back.

Isabella walked out of the room, "Well, tell me on the way out. I have far too much paperwork to hang around here all day."

"Well, I was hearing some rather unsettling talk around the Mess Hall," Adyson jogged to catch up with Isabella. It briefly occurred to her that she might be disturbing Django from his sleep. She then considered the point moot as he was an unnaturally heavy sleeper.

"Unsettling talk? Such as?" Isabella was paying attention. She always paid attention when it came to 'unsettling talk' especially when the Travelers were involved.

"Well, you know how Phineas and Ferb were the ones who built that roller-coaster that eventually lead to Ol' Emperor Doof? And how people are completely resentful of Phineas and Ferb?" Adyson asked.

"Is there a point to this?" Isabella sighed. She knew all of that information.

"Totally. You see, that unsettling talk goes something along the lines of them not earning their keep here." Adyson dodged a small pothole.

"They've been here three days, what exactly are they supposed to do?"

Adyson shrugged, "Well, something. Everyone else sees them as two moochers. They're not even assigned to a department yet. So we have two people, who do nothing, eating for free. Of course, everyone is pissed."

"If logic worked that way, then you would have been killed by irate Travelers long ago, considering you don't have a job besides piloting." Isabella pulled the door behind her. She quickly noticed that the door was free of any bite marks.

"You know what else I don't have? Mommy issues. Now, shut up and let me tell you my plan. See, we take take Phineas and Ferb along on tonight's raid, then people will see that they totally deserve those three bowls of rice a day."

"I don't have mommy issues, you insufferable imbecile-"

"Nobody talks like that!" Adyson chuckled. She had gotten a rise out Isabella, like always.

"At any rate I'll take your idea into consideration and-"

"I'm going along, right?" Adyson asked with a hopeful tone.

"No," Came Isabella's curt reply.

"Come on! Who's going to take care of them during the mission? Every other Traveler probably wants to kill them. Buford has to stay and protect the cave, Django works at most with one other person, and," she shuffled him in attempt to make him less heavy, "He's the walking dead, right now. You micromanage everything. Baljeet and Gretchen never go on raids. I mean who else is going to take care of them?"

Isabella glared at Adyson, "Fine. Do something useful, will you? Get Gretchen to give you a list of the people coming on the raid. I want everyone rounded up in the Mess Hall in fifteen minutes." She turned to walk towards Mess Hall, "If you'll excuse me, I have a raid to plan."

Adyson grinned, "You hear that Django? I'm going on tonight's raid! No more boredom for me!"

Django buried his head in Adyson's neck, "So I heard. Congratulations." His voice was still heavy with sleep and almost slurred.

"You're awake? And I carried you?"

Django yawned, "You love me too much to let me sleep on the cold floor."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

Phineas sat down and winced. His wounds still ached, though not as bad as before. Ferb sat down next to him and raised an eyebrow.

Phineas smiled sheepishly, "Buford pitted me against a fighter. He was tough guy. Don't roll your eyes, he was! That's him over there." Phineas pointed towards Samuel who waved back and had a cheesy grin. Ferb stifled a chuckle. That lanky boy was the one who had severely beaten his brother? It seemed like a legitimate idea.

Adyson plopped herself next to Ferb with Django following close behind her. She reached under the table and pulled out a trumpet.

Django sighed, "I think that you try to get Isabella mad at you as much as possible."

"When did you put a trumpet under the table? How did you even know you were going to sit there? Just...why?" Phineas asked. He was quite confused.

Adyson stared at Phineas. She merely shrugged, "Tradition."

"Really, reason and logic are not friends of hers. How have the two of you been getting along?" Django asked the brothers.

Phineas smiled, "We're doing fine. A bit bruised myself, but nothing too bad."

Django nodded and the table went quiet.

Isabella scanned the Mess Hall. She counted about forty people, all scattered about talking and mingling. She stuffed her hands in her pants pockets and then quickly took them out again. Hands in pockets, she reminded herself, were for nervous people or relaxed people. She did not want to give either impression. She instead crossed her arms at the back, left wrist being held by the right hand. A stance both open and defensive.

"Attention!" All voices were silenced and everyone looked at Isabella, "I recently been informed that we are severely low on supplies, particularly food and medicine. As such, we are going to go on a raid. Our targets reside in the city of Swampton."

Isabella motioned to a man and a woman to bring up a large map, as they unfurled it and stood at opposite ends to showcase it, Isabella pointed out five spots on the map, "The targets shall be warehouses ten through fourteen. Team Friedrich, you shall take route seven in and route two twelve out, target warehouse ten. Team Four Star, you shall go in through sub-route nine and leave through route five ten, target warehouse eleven, Team Charlie, you go through route eight and out through ninety, target warehouse twelve. You also get my congratulations on not having an utterly childish team name."

Every member of Team Charlie gave high fives to each other.

Isabella coughed, "If you're quite done, I'd like to continue. Team Serenity, route four ten in, route one out, warehouse thirteen. Be careful, warehouse thirteen is notoriously guarded. Mr. Brown, Ms. Sweetwater, you and the Flynn-Fletchers shall accompany me in warehouse fourteen. Riot Force," Samuel perked up his ears, "Keep tabs on the cops for us. You shall be stationed near the police stations. If you see a mass exodus of police heading out towards any of the warehouses. Radio us. Then get out of town. Should Riot Force fail to inform us in time, switch to plan Zero Zero Nine. We shall take the trucks and fill them up. A simple plan for a simple raid. That being said, I don't want anyone getting careless, so no playing hero or trying to be the next Rambo, got it?"

Forty heads bobbed up and down.

"Good, everyone assemble at their respect- Adyson, what in the world is that?" Isabella asked with an overly sweet voice.

Adyson was far too busy polishing her trumpet and as such barely mumbled the word trumpet.

"You're not taking that on the raid, are you?" Isabella smiled a sickeningly sweet smile.

The occupants of the room rolled their collective eyes and left the Mess Hall to prepare for the upcoming raid. They had about ten minutes to prepare. All exactly like clockwork.

"Of course I am! A Traveler is improperly dressed without a trumpet!" Adyson raised the trumpet high above her head, "It signals the presence of a warrior! It represents the high and majestic voice of a revolutionary!"

"You're breaking uniform by having that trumpet! It's like having a target painted on your back!" Isabella yelled.

Django sighed and motioned for Phineas and Ferb to follow him, the clamor of the two bickering women fading behind the trio.

Phineas glanced at Ferb. His brother was as impassive as ever, a different type of stoic from his usual relaxed, blank face. He had seen that face multiple times, whenever Ferb had to return to the battlefield. It disturbed Phineas to see that visage on his brother.

"Django, Why were we chosen to go on this raid?" Phineas asked.

The scruffy man shrugged, "PR, I think."

"PR?" Phineas asked. What did Public Relations have to do with anything

Django nodded, "Don't tell me you haven't noticed the angry glares from the rest of the Travelers. I mean, they're not exactly subtle. Anyway, to make them less...glareful... you two are going to go ahead and break into warehouses and bring back food. Food makes everyone happy!"

"I don't like this.'s not in my nature," Phineas followed Django followed close behind.

Django glanced at Phineas, "It's not like the normal people eat the food. Most of it is for the rich dudes and high government official, and most of that ends up rotting. Consider us a long term Robin Hood. We steal from the rich, give to ourselves, and with the energy, act for great justice!"

Phineas nodded, "I guess...what do you think Ferb?"

Ferb nodded, "Seems like a legitimate plan."

Phineas smiled, "It does, doesn't it?" If Ferb thought it was a good idea, then who was he to say otherwise?

Phineas was really wishing he had stayed behind. The people in the truck were insane, he was sure of it. All of them wore the green jackets, all of them were sitting on benches bolted onto the side of the truck, all of them were insane. He could not stress that enough. And his backpack of supplies was digging into his back.

Samuel sat next to him, working on an old crossword puzzle, it still astounded him that the seventeen year old was allowed to go on raids. It surprised him even more that the boy was utterly calm.

Phineas cleared his throat, "Say, Samuel, why are you so calm?"

Samuel grinned cheerily, "I've been going on raids since I was approximately fifteen. This will be my last one before I get to wear this jacket permanently, you know?"

Phineas raised his eyebrow, "Don't your parents worry about you?"

Samuel shrugged, "I don't know them. I was in a Containment Pod until I was four. The closest thing to a parent I've ever had would be Adyson and the rest of them, you know?"

Phineas blinked.

"That's the reaction I get from everyone else when I tell them Adyson is the closest thing to a parent I've ever had." The truck slowed down and Samuel stood up, " Here's my stop." He pulled a backpack on and addressed the other four youngsters, "Right! Riot Force move out!" With that, the five kids jumped out of the back of the truck.

The door closed and the truck moved on again. Phineas rested his head on his right hand. Even if Ferb said it was alright, he still didn't feel all that comfortable stealing food. Ferb, however was rarely wrong, he had saved them multiple times when they were children and adolescents. Phineas trusted Ferb beyond a shadow of doubt.

That said, the twisting knot in his stomach still bothered Phineas. He quickly glanced over at the other bench, Adyson was talking with Isabella in an animated fashion, while Django sat at Adyson's left and would sometimes glance at them and huff. It was a strange scene, Phineas thought.

The truck lurched forwards and stopped.

"We're here," Django announced.

"Thanks Captain Obvious! You going to tell us how it's perpetually gray outside as well?" Adyson grumbled.

"Yes, I will actually. It's a different shade of gray," Django said in all earnest.

"Oh, really? That's interesting." Adyson was always found it interesting how Django could distinguish between shades.

"Yes, It's probably because it's nighttime," Django said in a voice that suggested he had just said something wise.

"If the idiot couple is done-" Isabella interrupted.

"Oop, we've angered our fabulous World War Two Era Green Arrow, Django!" Adyson smiled.

Isabella slipped on the goggles and helmet customary on all Travelers, "Green Arrow, my...just be on your toes, understood?" She opened the door and darted towards an imposing building on the right, Django following behind.

Adyson pushed the brothers out of the truck, "Come on, new guys in the middle!"

The trio caught up to Django and Isabella; both were currently crouching under a window whispering.

"You could have said this before. How do you even forgot something like that?" Isabella glared at Django.

Django shrugged. He knew it wasn't customary for him to forgot anything.

"Well, could you make it back in time for the pickup?"

"Who the hell do you think I am?" Django snorted.

"Fine." Isabella said reluctantly.

And with that, Django took off running.

"Where's he going?" Adyson asked.

"Special assignment. Now, come on, you know the drill," Isabella crouched on one knee and cupped her hands.

Adyson nodded, reached into her backpack and pulled out a small tool, rectangular at the head. She placed her foot in the cupped hands.

"On three."

Adyson chuckled, "Yours or mine?"


Adyson yelped as Isabella stood up suddenly and she was catapulted towards the window. Grabbing the windowsill she slid the tool under the window muttering about revenge. After forcing the window, she jumped in to warehouse.

Isabella crouched down on one leg, "Phineas, up you go."

Phineas nodded. He and Ferb had pulled the same stunt when they were younger. It took less than a second to jump through the window and land in the warehouse. It was a dark warehouse, cold and dry, the only light some sickly yellow bulbs. Metal shelves stacked with crates reached the ceiling which was criss-crossed with catwalks.

Phineas stared at the room, "All of this is food?"

"Nope," Adyson said as she dragged in two dollies, "Medicine is stored in here."

"No, but, the trees outside are dead. How can anyone grow anything?" Phineas asked.

"Greenhouses," Isabella's curt response came, "Now, the truck returns in ten minutes. We have that long to gather as many supplies as possible. Phineas, you go with Adyson and stock up on food. She has the list. Ferb, you're with me." She took one of the dollies and pushed it to the right, while Adyson and Phineas dashed into the center aisle.

Adyson sang under her breath, "We take to get along. We're holding on, We're holding on. All these Estates were wrong..."

Phineas began moving crates onto the dolly, ignoring the self-proclaimed ace.

Ferb was wary. They had yet to encounter any guards. It smelled suspiciously like a trap.

"I called ahead and told the guards we were coming. They know they'll get a reward for leaving us alone," Isabella said as she heaved another crate of medicine onto the dolly, "That's what you were wondering, right?"

Ferb stacked another crate on the dolly and stared at the young woman.

"I'm almost insulted, Ferb. You make it sound as though I could never communicate with you."

Ferb smiled and looked down at the cargo.

"Yeah," Isabella nodded, "That should be it. Do you mind taking these out to the pick up point? I still have to leave the reward for the guards."

Ferb glanced at the woman.

"Well, bribe is such an ugly word."

Ferb rolled his eyes and pushed the crates towards the pickup point.

Isabella reached inside the pocket of her pants and thumbed a small pill bottle, "Nearly empty, anyway."

Phineas was going to lose it. If he had to hear Adyson sing the line 'Simon, don't stop with all the lying' he was going to lose it.

"Simon, don't stop with all the lying."

Damn it! Preempting the song's sixth iteration, he quickly asked, "So, Adyson, why did you become a Traveler?"

Adyson rubbed her neck trying to get some knots out of it, "Food."


"Well, a stable abode was also a big incentive." Adyson stacked the last of the bean sacks on the dolly and sat down beside it.

Phineas copied her, "A stable abode?"

"Yeah, the three of us rarely stayed in a place for more than a week."

"The three of you?"

"What are you, a parrot? Yeah, Me, Gretchen, and Isabella. Only the really rich can afford to live by themselves. It was annoying, really. 'specially during the few times when I had girls over."

Phineas recalled the many times that Ferb had brought girls home and agreed. Phineas would usually get locked out of the apartment. It tended to get on his nerves.

A few seconds of silence passed before Adyson started singing softly, "We take to get along, we're holding on..."

Phineas sighed.

"What? It's a good song." Adyson defended indignantly.

"Yes, it's a fine song. But Ferb used to play that song so many times."

Adyson stared at Phineas. A serious, intense stare meant to convey feelings that were strong and should be respected. It was instantly ruined by her goofy grin, "Your brother and I both like the same music. We should totally have s-"

A banging from outside the warehouse interrupted the joke. Adyson stood up followed by Phineas.

Ferb and Isabella ran up to the duo. The pounding on the warehouse door was accompanied by a loud scraping noise. The door was being opened.

Adyson ran to a ladder and started climbing it. At the same time, a squad of six police officers charged in, one of them spoke in a crisp manner, "By the words of our glorious leader, Emperor Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and by the order given out by the Head of the Security Department, the Department of Intelligence and Enforcement, Ca-"

The robotic repetition obviously remembered by rote was cut short by a blaring trumpet's note from on high.

Isabella groaned, "She didn't."

There, on a catwalk, proudly stood Adyson, a shined silver trumpet in her hands. "How's it? My trumpet sounds awesome, right?"

The one who was interrupted before stared at Adyson before restarting his speech again,"By the words of our glorious leader, Emperor Heinz Doofenshmirtz, and by the order given out by the-"

"Will you shut up?" Adyson shouted, "I mean, you're standing in the presence of a legend! How's about some excitement? Fanboying is accepted, even encouraged."

The leader of the squad raised a hand gun towards Adyson, "Identify yourself."

Adyson smirked, "Gladly. Listen up, boys this is your elder speaking! Perk up your ears and stand at attention! Having fought for the Imperium, this pilot was the best rookie of them all! A defector from decadence, she joined the Travelers in a quest for great justice! When they talk about that indomitable spirit, that paragon of badass, the Crimson Arrow, they're talking about me! Adyson Sweetwater The Triumphant!" She stretched out her arms, "Come at me, Bro!"

"Secure the other three. That traitor will pay," the leader turned around to see the other three gone,

"Where are they?" He asked, panic evident in his voice.

The other squad members shrugged.

"Well, then at least get Sweetwater."

"She's gone too." One of the young officers astutely observed.

The leader looked at the catwalk and back at the empty spot. He was going to get punished that night. This was his first assignment as leader and he had failed. The eighteen year old boy felt tears stinging his eyes.

Phineas couldn't believe that they had been able to slip away so easily. It was unreal, lucky beyond compare. Isabella had said it was because they were young.

"What does their age have to do with our luck?" Ferb asked.

Isabella slowed to a walk and looked around, "They couldn't have been more than eighteen, that's why when Adyson declared herself as their elder they stopped and listened. Lesson four in the pods is 'Always listen to your elders'," spotting a yellow flag on the first floor of a building, Isabella picked up the pace, "Those kids spent their whole lives in those pods. The common sense to disregard a social rule while in the field has not been acquired by them yet." She knocked on the door of the building with the yellow flag.

A man's voice came from the other side of the door, "We're not open!"

Isabella quickly responded, "Yeah, you are!"

"Quit shouting! Do you want the whole neighborhood to know you're here?" The man's voice responded.

"They're not going to say anything!" Isabella volleyed.

"You're being a pain! Go away!"

"Let us in! We'll pay you!" Isabella banged on the door.

"'Us'? 'Us?' Who am I serving?"

"Nothing more than three humble Travelers," Isabella said..

Some clinking noises could be heard and the heavy door opened, revealing a thin man with a thin mustache, "You people are everything but humble. Hurry up and come in."

The trio quickly shuffled in and the heavy door slammed shut. Phineas scanned the room; it was filled with old computers, newspapers and books. The whole room was covered in a film of dust and the windows to the outside were polarized. There was a door that led to the back, perhaps it was a storage room.

The thin man spoke again, "Well, what do you want? I don't have all night, you know."

Isabella nodded, "Right. If you could come with me, sir? You two," she pointed at the brothers, "Stay out here. Make sure the cops don't-"

"Cops? Are you kidding me, Travvie? Cops? Is my store going to get demolished again?" The thin man asked worriedly.

"Keep a look out for the cops?" asked Phineas.

Isabella nodded and walked into the backroom with the thin man following her, protests of her walking around the store as if she owned the place coming from the thin man.

Phineas glanced out the window every now and again, noting the buildings. They seemed to be built professionally up the third floor,after that, it seemed that the owners had constructed their own additions out of wood and other materials. Bridges connected the additions, and some additions were close enough for the roofs to lean against one another, creating a sort of canopy of wood. It was all dangerous, and ready to collapse at any second. He briefly wondered what happened to the building codes.

Ferb was more occupied with listening to what the thin man and Isabella were saying. The voices were muffled, and he could only hear bits and pieces of what they were saying. Cops and payment seemed to be some of the most often used words. He could guess that they were bartering about the payment. He did prefer to know what was going on, though.

Inside the backroom, the thin man and Isabella were arguing. Isabella felt a migraine coming on, the arguing and the stress of the chase combined to make a horrible situation. Another door leading to the outside was in the backroom.

" all I can give you is the one moped. It's not much of a getaway vehicle, though," The thin man finished, "Hey, are you even listening?"

Isabella shook her head, "Yeah, listen, if that's really all you have then just gives us that."

The thin man was shocked; he was expecting more of a fight, "Uh, okay...just let me get it." The thin man opened a crate and pulled out a sunglow yellow moped with two metal tubes on the side.

The garish color only served to worsen Isabella's migraine. She couldn't take it anymore, she pulled out the small bottle of pills and popped two in her mouth. The effect was almost instantaneous; the quickening of her heartbeat, the scene around her became sharply focused and then fuzzy before settling on a normal focus.

The thin man snorted, "You're not the one driving then. Hey, you two, get in here!"

Phineas and Ferb hurried in to the backroom. Upon spotting the moped, Phineas smiled and Ferb rolled his eyes.

"I remember this type! I used to have one when I was at the university. Remember, Ferb? One exactly like that, yellow and all. That baby could do so many impossible things!" Phineas smiled fondly at the memory of his old moped.

The thin man smiled, "See, this guy knows a good product when he sees it! I like him, I like him a lot,"

the thin man tossed Phineas the keys, "Only a true moped aficionado should drive such a beauty."

"Well, thank you for the ride, sir. Now, let's move out before the cops arrive," Isabella sat down on the moped.

"Wait, we're all riding the same moped?" Phineas asked.

Isabella nodded, "That's right."

Ferb shrugged and sat on the left side of the seat sideways, Isabella sat on the right, both grasped the tubes. Phineas had just enough space to sort of sit.

"This is highly uncomfortable." Ferb muttered.

The thin man opened the back door, "So that would be about, let's see..." As the thin man calculated how much was owed to him, Phineas started the moped.

He was not prepared for the mighty power of the moped.

The trio shot out from the backroom, with the thin man shouting about thievery. Phineas had a difficult time trying to control the moped, he could barely concentrate on not letting go of the handlebars let alone steering or slowing down.

"Phineas! Get it under control!" He heard Ferb scream.

He couldn't respond, and the buildings flying by were making him nauseous. He was thankful that the goggles he was wearing protected his eyes from the sharp wind. The moped kept on flying through the streets, all in a straight line until the straight line became a dead end. The police had set up a barricade of two patrol units.

With herculean effort, he was able to turn the moped around and fly away from the police. It seemed that police were not letting them go without a fight, as they started giving chase. Truly expected. It was their job, after all. That there were four other cars blocking all escape routes, that came as a bit of a shock. Phineas stopped the moped, it nearly tipping over from the momentum. There was nowhere to go, the patrol units blocked the road on both sides. The left and the right sides were occupied by tightly packed buildings. There wasn't even one alley that wasn't a dead end, only walls and doors into the buildings.

"Wow," Isabella said in an impressed voice, "The mayor here actually gave some funds to the police department like he promised. Why is it that politicians only keep their word when it impedes me?"

Ferb snorted.

Isabella smiled, "Relax, I do have a plan." She scanned the the skyline surrounding them, "Just give me a second to make it a bit more concrete."

Phineas gripped the handlebars until his knuckles turned white. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he briefly thought that his hands would hurt tomorrow, "You might want to hurry up with that plan of yours." He glanced between the eight cops that had gotten out of the patrol units. One of them had a megaphone.

The man raised the megaphone to his mouth and began spewing the same rhetoric the young cop had back a t the warehouse.

"Phineas. Directly on your left," Isabella said.

He looked to the left. His gazed settled on a wooden door. She couldn't be serious, "You know that's a door, right?" He asked the his passenger.

"That's right," she responded, "I want to you drive through it. That door is probably made of rotten wood."

"Probably? What happens if it isn't?" Phineas asked.

"Don't you worry about the door. Let me worry about the door," was Isabella's confident answer, "Just remember to go as fast as possible."

Ferb tightened his grip on the bar. Something told him it was going to be a wild ride.

Phineas considered that he was, perhaps, insane. Then he pushed the moped as fast as it would go and crashed through the door. The moment the trio crashed through the door, they were rocketed upwards a narrow flight of stairs. Phineas' eyesight was scrambled, he saw the stairs bouncing and meshing with the hallway. When they reached the hallway, several flimsy doors were opened and filled with questioning eyes. At the end of the hallway, there was another set of stairs. An apartment complex, that's what it was. A really, cramped, dark, mildew-smelling, apartment complex.

A man with a dirty gray uniform and lab coat stared at the rare sight before him. He sighed, "Does this mean cops are chasing you, then?"

The trio slowly nodded.

The man bellowed, "Everyone! Run! Hide the stuff, the cops are coming!" And like so many cockroaches the inhabitants of the building began scrambling about, some carrying bags, other rectangular packages wrapped in brown paper.

"Freeze!" The command came from one of the officers who had reached the second level.

The people did just that. They paused for a bit before they started running towards the the second staircase. Some were either brave or dumb enough to run towards the officer in an attempt to run past him.

Isabella patted Phineas' back, "Drive! If the people are smart, they'll get out of the way!"

Phineas wasn't sure if that was exactly true, the hallway was narrow and the sea of people was exceptionally thick. However, a smaller part of him argued that if he did not go up those stairs, he would go to jail.

Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for more stair riding, he throttled the gas, and the crowd hearing the engine, parted to let them through. The bumpy ride up the stairs was mercifully short this time around. He considered it a bonus that no one was severely run over by the yellow metal death bullet. There was another stairway waiting for him at the end of the hallway. He felt sick to his stomach and his back and knees screamed out in protest.

"Up again, I suppose." Phineas revved the engine and, once again, the people cleared a path for the moped; the trio shot through it and up the stairs and crashed into another door. He stopped the moped and looked around, searching for the next staircase.

Except they were on a roof. Apparently, it was the only flat roof, as the other surrounding buildings had those little wooden huts he saw before. Phineas turned to look at Isabella, "Now what? Do we just go crashing through these as well?" Phineas would never had thought he would ever say that. Ever.

Isabella smiled, "You bet, go through that one on the right."

Ferb groaned, his back was growing sore from being hunched on the bouncing moped. Phineas, once again, pushed the moped as fast as it would go before ramming through the wooden walls of the house. If the inhabitants were there, he had no clue, because before he knew it, the moped was crashing through another wall. And another. And another. And another.

He had never been so glad for helmets and goggles as he was at that moment.

However, the wooden village above the city had to run out of roofs at some point. The trio was now positioned before a wooden rope bridge linking one roof to the next.

Phineas shook his head, "No way! There's no way that flimsy bridge is going to take the weight of this thing! Let's just get down and-" The roaring of two small motorcycles interrupted him. He was starting to think that fate did just not want him to finish a sentence. Phineas felt a cold whirlpool of fear spin in his stomach, "Across the bridge, then."

He gave chase once again. Because two motorcycles chasing a trio of rebels in green jackets on a singular, yellow moped across a wooden rooftop village made as much sense as anything else.

Phineas felt the bridge sway and groan under the moped, some of the boards threatened to fall to the ground below. Somehow, the bridge breaking apart under the strain of the moped wasn't his biggest concern. No, that honor was reserved towards the bullets that sure to start whizzing by him at any moment.

There they were. One, two, three, whizzed by. He jumped when two of the gun shots sounded unnaturally close. He quickly glanced back to see Ferb and Isabella holding the smoking guns. He couldn't believe it, "You guys have guns?" He shouted, trying to be heard among the engine and the clacking of boards

Isabella shouted back, "Yeah! You don't get one yet!"

Finally, the bridge came to an end and they were once again on a roof that led nowhere. When Phineas saw another door, he instantly knew what he had to do. He asked though, "Down the door?"

Isabella gave him a thumbs up before returning fire to the cops.

The moped crashed through the door and down three flights of stairs. He heard Isabella shout something about going left as soon as they were out of the building. That's exactly what he did.

Unfortunately, the six cop cars were waiting outside and chased them. The two on motorcycles had more than likely reported where they were going. Phineas kept the moped at top speed. He winced every time he heard a gunshot. He just wasn't used to being so close to them. The red-head was thankful that there were no people out in the streets, it made maneuvering easier.

Was...was that an explosion he heard in the distance?

Isabella growled, "I told that useless pilot to keep collateral damage to a minimum!"

Ferb grinned slightly. Adyson seemed to be as boisterous as ever.

Phineas saw a railroad track up ahead. He also heard the freight train that was using it.

"Don't slow down and we should make it!" Isabella shouted.

"Should?" Phineas asked worriedly.

" Don't worry about whether or not we'll make it. Let me worry about whether or not we'll make it," came the woman's confident reply. Phineas briefly wondered if that was her new catchphrase or something.

It had now become a three way race between the cops, the moped, and the freight train. Phineas muttered a few words, hoping that he wouldn't die. He still had to see his Mom, after all. The freight train was still barreling down the tracks. The cops were catching up. The moped still had four hundred meters to go. Everything seemed to slow down.

Three fifty.

The bells began to ding.

Two hundred.

The freight train whistled a warning.

Two hundred.

Ferb's hands gripped the bar tighter.

One fifty.

One of the officers thought of his wife waiting at home.

One hundred.

A smug smirk settled on Isabella's face.


Phineas' scream died in his throat as the moped flew in front of the train and across the other side. The freight train did not allow the patrol units to chase the yellow moped anymore. Whoops of victories were drowned out by the cursing of the cops and the rumbling of the train.

The yellow moped puttered along. Phineas finally figured out how to control the yellow death bullet. The dead trees rolled by at an acceptable pace. No one had spoken after they had crossed the train. It was a comfortable silence.

The cave came into view and Phineas angled the moped towards it. The dark of the night gave way to total black before that faded out into the blue of the center of the cave. In the middle cave a truck was parked, surrounded by a crowd.

On top of it stood Adyson. She was telling a story, "...So I says, 'Cop', I says, 'Doesn't matter what you have. Because at least I HAVE CHICKEN!'" Her voice boomed across the cave and the people cheered. The truck opened to reveal several live chickens.

Adyson spotted the moped trio and got off the truck. She waved and ran towards them, "I see you three are finally back! How did it go?"

Phineas fell off the moped and groaned.

Adyson pulled him up, "C'mon, some beer will fix that right up!" She pulled him away towards the center of the crowd, shouting that he was going to tell everyone about his first mission.

Isabella smiled and began walking towards her room, she needed to be back in Danville tomorrow and had yet to finish all her paperwork, before Ferb grabbed her attention.

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

Ferb nodded. He glanced at Phineas, who was now standing atop the truck, a can of beer in his hand, nervously telling how he had piloted the yellow death bullet. The crowd cheered at parts and laughed at others. Buford was setting up a drum set around the truck, Django held a banjo and a folder. He saw Isabella and walked slowly towards her.

Isabella nodded, "You don't want Phineas on the front lines? I'll see what I can do."

Ferb sighed his thanks and walked towards the crowd. He briefly saluted Django when they both crossed paths. Django gave an easy smile to the the soldier.

Django handed the folder to Isabella. She flipped through it and smirked.

Django laughed, "I take it your satisfied, then?"

Isabella nodded, "I am. You always come through Django."

Django shrugged, "Well, you know me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a banjo to rock." He jogged back towards the truck where a small band ready to play some music had formed.

Isabella studied the plans inside the folder while the band played their music. 'Neural connectors?' she glanced at Phineas and Ferb dancing among the crowd, 'I'm sure that won't be a problem'. She walked back towards her room. No problem at all.

Django belted out the chorus, So let the revolution, let the revolution...BEGIN!

Adyson: Wicked good job, everyone!

Isabella: 'Wicked good job'? Are you twelve?

Adyson: At any rate,we just finished episode one and we now have food and medicine. And from the sounds of it, a real party!

Gretchen: What's going on?

Isabella: I think she's lost it.

Adyson: Tune in next time for another exciting installment of 'The Revolution Will Not Be Televised!' Watch as I and the rest of the Travelers fight off a hangover! Fanservice, ahoy!

Gretchen and Adyson: Oh, one of those.

I felt the need to include a 'next time segment'. I also figured I should update at least once in 2011. Many thanks to The High Lord of Terra for Beta-ing and putting up with midnight ramblings of how a scene doesn't work. I hoped you enjoy yourself. Stay Classy, Archive