Chapter Text
The monthly “Complain About Your Nemesis Hour” that the O.W.C.A. held wasn’t every agent’s cup of tea, but Peter loved them. He objectively had The Worst Nemesis in the World – not in evilness, but in personality.
He glanced around the room and noted the usual boycotting posters (Don’t talk about people behind their backs!) the retaliating slogan (Every agent needs an out!) and the other two regulars who came – Scotty the Squirrel, whose nemesis made painful traps, and Orton the Owl (Two words: noc - turnal).
Peter tore open an instant coffee packet and dumped hot water on it, scanning the room for someone new to talk to. His eyes fell on a rectangle of teal fur, and he was so startled he dropped his wooden popsicle stick stirrer.
Agent Platypus was here!?
Peter didn’t actually know much about Agent P, not even his name, just that he was one of, if not the, best OWCA agents in a generation.
He was at the other end of the buffet table, awkwardly avoiding eye contact and picking tiny bits of cheese off his plate. A flamingo agent came up to him, and Agent P regarded her with a polite gaze. Agent F began gesturing excitedly and talking very fast, and Agent P nodded along, eyes glazing over every now and then. Eventually he offered her some cheese, which shut her up. Leaving the plate in her wings, he slipped away.
Peter bent down and picked up his stirrer, eyes fixed on the platypus. Burning with curiosity, he dropped it in the bin and decided he could try bonding over being exceptional agents – after all, he was the top agent in the Seattle division.
He casually came up next to Agent P and picked up a tiny muffin. “Flamingos, am I right?”
Agent P’s eyes shot to him, slightly startled. He shrugged and selected a mini quiche. “She wasn’t that bad. She was just telling me about some mission she’d gone on in Australia.”
Peter sipped his coffee. “That would be like someone telling me about their trip to China, wouldn’t it.”
“Similar,” Agent P agreed. “Though I’m more exotic.”
Peter laughed.
He stuck out his paw. “Perry. Danville division.”
Peter shook. “Peter, Seattle.”
Perry raised an eyebrow. “Peter the Panda, best agent in Seattle?”
“You’ve heard of me?” Peter asked in surprise.
“Panda from Seattle,” Perry replied. He plucked a shrimp from the table and swallowed it whole. “Who else would it be?” He side eyed him. “Besides, you approached an exceptional agent with the ease only another exceptional agent ever really does.”
Peter glanced away, suddenly lost for words. “Umm…”
Perry’s eyes glinted. “Hey, at least you did better than Franny.” At Peter’s look of confusion, he clarified, “The flamingo.” He picked up a scone. “What brings you here?”
“I’m a regular,” Peter confessed. Perry arched his brow slightly, but he didn’t push, merely waiting.
Peter sighed and succumbed to his usual complaints.
“My nemesis is The Worst. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t tell me anything, sometimes it feels like I’m thwarting a brick wall! And –”
He’d said the same thing almost every meeting, sometimes twice. It genuinely made him feel better, but he regretted the intensity whenever he stopped.
Usually, the agent he was talking to – well, at – would glance away, maybe laugh a bit (usually in the wrong place), and sometimes gently interrupt him and ask if they could leave. The not-so-nice ones would just go, and he would be left talking to no one.
Perry did none of those things. His gaze was fixed on Peter, and he seemed interested. When Peter faltered in embarrassment, he even rolled his paw, like, keep talking.
When he was done, Perry was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Sounds like you and I are here for opposite reasons.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re done. Sounds rough.”
“You have no idea,” Peter grumbled.
Perry’s eyes glinted again, and Peter realised that it was him smiling. “You’re right, I don’t. But,” he added, “maybe you don’t know him well enough? One of my –” He paused for a split second then continued, “friends is practically mute and doesn’t really emote at all, but once you get to know him he’s a softie. Probably doesn’t help, but…”
He left the sentence hanging.
Peter shook his head. “He’s been my nemesis for nearly a year.”
“Ahh, gotcha. What’s he called?”
“Professor Mystery.”
Perry nodded. “Sounds like someone who would do that. Have you tried communication? You know, leave a note or text saying how you’re unsatisfied?”
“No. He’s not my friend, he’s my nemesis.”
He misaligned his bill, his version of pursed lips. “You could always file a complaint with the head of your department.”
“Do you think I haven’t tried?” Peter demanded. “They keep telling me that it will work itself out. It won’t.” He crushed the now-empty coffee cup in his hand and slammed it in the trash.
Perry held up his paws. “Easy. Calm down.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Why are you here?”
Perry smirked. “I thought I’d come to see what it’s all about, obviously not the right place for me. My nemesis talks too much.”
“Excuse me?!” Peter cried indignantly.
Perry chuckled. “I know. Sorry about that.”
“How is that a complaint?”
His eyes flashed again. “If you ever meet him, you’ll understand. I once thought about asking to switch, but I decided to see how it went, I’d never had one that long before. I’m glad I stayed.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked, curious despite himself. Agent P was an enigma to him.
Perry thought for a moment. “Is my story something widely spread around OWCA, or just my reputation?”
Peter shrugged, trying to stay nonchalant. “I’ve never heard your story.”
“In a nutshell, he’s the only nemesis I could hold down,” Perry explained.
“Hold down?”
“I was assigned seven or so before him, all major threats. Out of all of them, the longest lasted about a week.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged. “The only reason I never defeated him was that he’s a minor threat, so there was no justifiable reason to. I was annoyed at first, but it ended up fine, and anyway, we’re friends now.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Your nemesis is your friend?”
Perry frowned, then nodded in realisation. “Ah. Yeah, it’s a whole thing. Most villains monologue, see, and you can’t help but sympathise with someone who pours their heart out to you.” Another flash of the eyes, which the panda was starting to find hypnotic. “In extreme cases, the agent is the only one who cares.”
Peter winced. “Yeah… no thanks.”
Perry laughed. “Usually there’s no getting out of it. Agent Silent G visits his under cover because he enjoys his conversation.”
“What’s yours called,” Peter pressed. He ignored the last part because an idea suddenly came into his mind.
“Dr. Doofenshmirtz. He’s Drusselseinian.”
“What’s he like? In three words.” The in three words he knew was a thing.
“Talkative, maniacal, comically-tragic.”
“That’s four words,” Peter noted, but his mind was ticking.
“The last one has a hyphen. You?”
“Silent, devious, mysterious. But not in a good way.”
Perry made a hm sound. “I’m sure it’ll work out. Somehow. If you need help, let me know.”
Peter swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” His watch beeped, and he glanced down. “Ha, I should have known.”
“What?”
“I have a couple days off soon, so Dr D is doing some larger schemes to make up for it, apparently. Then when I’m off, he’s going to some evil scientist convention in Seattle.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Peter said, but he was internally screaming at the idea of a nemesis scheduling schemes.
Perry’s watch beeped again. “Alright, Monogram, calm down,” he muttered. “Gotta go. See you around, Peter.”
“You too,” he replied.
Perry ducked through the jumble of fur and feathers, and Peter stared after him.
A voice next to him said, “That was impressive.”
Peter turned and saw Orton the Owl. “What was?”
Orton gestured in the direction Perry had gone. “You just befriended Agent P.”
“So?”
The owl blinked slowly. “Look in the dictionary for ‘lone wolf’. You’ll find a picture of him. The only friends he has he’s known since birth and the Academy. Respectively.”
Peter frowned. “I’m sure he was just making small talk.”
“He offered you help. That’s not small talk. To him.”
Peter gazed across the room.
“I’m in his division. With Major Monogram,” Orton said. “One time? I saw one of his first reports. It was funny.”
Peter bit his lip. “How so?”
“Apparently the nemesis trapped him in an ice cream cone. And monologued. For twenty minutes. About rocky road.”
“Uhhh…”
“Then he got upset when Perry escaped before he was done. Stuck to an almost cartoonish schedule.”
Peter’s brain was racing, so he changed the subject. “How’s that thing with your nemesis?”
A fluff of feathers. “Fine, except that she’s a morning person. I just come here for the free snacks.”
And the owl snagged a tiny sushi.
Peter’s stomach sank. “Oh. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “See you next week?”
A shrug. “Maybe. I might talk to Dee. See if she’s up for a night scheme.”
“O-okay.” Peter backed out of the room.
Once in the safety of his vehicle, he texted his superior.
- Greetings, Leiutenant Lexicon. May I stake out a convention?
His phone dinged, and he frowned. Lexicon was never that quick to answer. He checked it.
It wasn’t from Lexicon.
- Hey Peter, it’s Perry. I got your contact from the files. Feel free to use my number to rant.
He felt a pang, but replied.
- Thanks.
- Don’t mention it.
Lexicon texted back.
- Sure. Gonna be a lot of paperwork, though.
Peter breathed deeply. He could handle paperwork if it meant a reprieve.