Secret Agents

Chapter 9: No Where

The last thing Anthony Padilla remembered was checking his ankle.

Beetle Fight said it wasn't a tracker, but Anthony still believed it was.

Besides, you could never trust a villain.

Villains were tricksters that'll make you believe something and ending up lying to you at the end.

Anthony knew he wasn't that dumb to fall for a sneaky villain prank.

But now, he didn't know what happened afterwards.

Except for the fact that he could be dead.

He felt something hard hit his face before he blacked out.

Maybe Beetle shot him in the face.

Or maybe he was stabbed to death.

Anything could've happened.

But now, he felt like he was waking up.

Was he?

Maybe.

~

"Where the fuc..."

"Good! You're up!" a voice interrupted.

Anthony looked around.

It looked like a cabin.

A really old cabin, but not too old.

Nothing like his apartment back home in Los Angeles or the Smosh House in Sacramento.

Then, he noticed the person who interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

He didn't know who in the world it was; he just looked like an old man, maybe around the age of 50.

Then, he realized he was in a bed, and there was a wet towel on his cheek, along with a bandage wrapped across his head that made him feel like a warrior.

"Like I was saying, where in the world am I?" Anthony finally asked.

"My home." The man said.

He seemed to be cleaning something, but Anthony wasn't even going to try to guess what.

"Wait! Am I still in Paris?" Anthony finally asked.

"Why yes, just out in the country parts of it of course." The man said walking up to him.

"That means I can go find Agent P and tell him I'm fine!" Anthony said excitedly trying to get up.

But it was like his legs wouldn't let him.

Or anything in general.

"Don't even try to get up my friend. I don't believe you can."

"What happened in the city?" Anthony finally asked ready for answers.

"Well, you got slapped in the face, hard enough to leave you unconscious. After that, everyone who saw began to panic, and the rest was a blur." The man said pouring something into a cup.

"Could you at least tell what happened after I got slapped?" Anthony asked.

"The same man who slapped you suddenly pulled out a gun and shot you."

"Sh...Shot me?" Anthony asked.

The man nodded, "Luckily, you're alive, as you can tell, but after that, the man ran off from the scene. I ran up and quickly noticed you got shot in the leg and somewhere in the middle part of you."

Anthony felt terrified.

For he never imagined getting shot.

"After that, just took you in and fixed you up as best as possible and you we're in a good three day coma." The man concluded.

"Three day coma?!" Anthony said shocked.

"Yep! But hey, you're awake and alive now and should be back to normal in a good week or two."

"A good week or two!? But that's not enough time! Beetle could take over!" Anthony realized.

"Now is this 'Beetle' guy the one you we're fighting?"

"Yes."

"Was he the one who put that little device on your ankle?"

"The tracker? Yeah." Anthony replied staring at his ankle.

"That's definitely not a tracker. Trust me; I know little machines when I see them."

"Well do you know what it is?" Anthony asked now more curious than frightened.

"It's either one of two things: a timer or a bomb."