CHAPTER I: Dangerville?

Poptart Warnings: This is actually considerably violent. And not punching-and-kicking violent, but rather "are-we-even-thinking-bout-the-same-show" violent.

"All I'm saying is that you should be able to walk to the bank by yourself."

Albert was trekking along the street with Irving, who had a large piggybank in both hands. His younger brother glared up at him.

"It's a dangerous endeavor!" Irving exclaimed. "You don't know what could ever happen to a charming little boy with an armload of cash."

"Then I guess we won't ever know, and for two reasons: A, there are no charming little boys around here; and B, we're in Danville."

"Whaddaya mean, 'we're in Danville'?" Irving asked. Albert snorted.

"Oh, poor, naive little Irving. Don't you know? Outside of Phineas and Ferb, nothing ever actually happens around here." Irving raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? And what are the fantastic adventures of the boarding school?"

"I'll have you know that Timmy Eberhardt threw up on Mrs. Shannalski twice last year, and Reginald Jackswell punched the shop teacher in his gut!" Albert replied indignantly. "It's just as fascinating as this place, and more so than it'd be without those couple of kids." Irving gasped.

"Lies! There is nothing as interesting as Phineas and Ferb!"

"Sure there isn't." Albert said in a taunting voice. "Oh, look, we're at the bank. Better be careful, Ir-ving, or else somebody might want to take the charming boy's cash. Are you worried?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." Irving said nonchalantly, blowing a raspberry at his brother.

Everything decided to happen as things would normally go—wait in line for too long, get to the front desk, make a deposit. Actually that last part was a bit problematic, because the minute Albert and Irving got there, somebody else had entered the bank. And that somebody kept his hand behind his back. As soon as everyone turned away, there was suddenly the sound of a gunshot, and then a shattering sound, screaming, and static, along with a shower of sparks from directly above Irving. Albert barely managed to pull him away from danger, shoving him behind his back and shielding him with his own body. Right then, the lights went off. A great panic swept through the bank.

There came a demand from the middle of the darkness that everybody got down on the floor, and then that the particular person that spoke would have money put in their bag. Irving practically threw himself on the ground, but Albert didn't even budge. Maybe he was shocked into a frozen state. Perhaps he had been swept over by a wave of courageous defiance that refused to allow him to get to the floor. And then there was always the possibility that Albert was simply a complete idiot.

"Hey, nimrod!" The man who had demanded that money be put in his bag exclaimed. "You better not be standing! I CAN TELL WHEN YOU'RE STANDING!"

Albert still just stood there.

"What part of 'get down' did you not understand?"

Yep, still standing.

"Alright, funny-man, here's the deal—get down or little Porky in front of you here gets a lead filling!"

Albert lay down as flat as he could. Irving turned to him.

"Are you nuts?" He whispered. "You could've—"

"HEY," The man cut him off, "SHUT UP!"

Long minutes later, there was the quick light of the door to the bank being opened, followed by the sound of the man shuffling out. Everybody slowly began to stand up, and gradually began chattering until they were just below panicking again. The female clerk quickly pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911. Somebody pulled out a flashlight and started to scan the room with it. When the light caught the two boys, Albert quickly looked to the side and saw that his brother was still on the floor. His face was flat against the marble and he was whimpering.