iSpy Love

Dunwitchya

Phase Five: Confused Eyes and The Fight

"Don't talk to me like that, Gotchabaux, if you know what's best for you." Chief spits, leaning across the metal table and into Dylan's face.

I fight back a smirk.

"Y-yes ma'am--s-sir--CHIEF!" Dylan stutters. It's so very hard not to laugh.

"Don't call me 'sir', Gotchabaux," Chief says in a low, menacing voice. He nods slowly, fear clouding his eyes.

Chief gets up and straightens her pinstriped pencil dress before leaving with her chin high.

That's when I laugh. Out. Loud.

"Hey!" Dylan says, scooting his chair back with a loud screech and slapping me hard across the face.

"You did not!"

"Oh, yes I did, honey!"

"Dylan Ian Gotchabaux, you little twerp!"

"Madison Isabella Marianne Dunwitchya, you little jerk!"

"No one says my middle names!"

"No one says mine!"

"I do!"

"Me too!"

"That..." I pause, chuckling to myself a bit. "Ok."

"What?" He asks, and his eyes are wide as he stares at me suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," I sing, prancing out of the room.

I have him trailing behind me like a little puppy. "What is it Maddie? I'm curious now. You saw the way Chief was looking at me. I need to get better at sly remarks and comebacks. I need to be a cooler spy. Help. Please," Dylan pleads, grabbing my arm and looking down at me.

I stare into his eyes. "Are you for real? Ha, Dylan, nice one. That's cute. Maybe you're more cut out for actor than spy."

"No, Maddie. Seriously. Help me."

His eyes become so mesmerizing. So... beautiful.

Wait, what?!?!?!

Nononononononononononononononononononooooooooooooooooooo. No. Way. In. Heck. Noooo.

"Yes." I whisper, nodding uncontrollably.

NO!!!

"Thanks." Dylan sighs in relief, patting my head stupidly before slipping away.

No! What just happened? I look to my hands and cover my mouth. Shiz...

I'm. So. Confused.

And I'm never confused.

_~~~_

"Well, thanks for lunch, Radhika. See ya," I say goodbye and leave Mellow Mushroom, pushing my shades down over my eyes. I shake my head, sending my blonde waves flying from my face. I spot the A. S. G. A.'s Cadillac near a hotdog cart.

While I'm walking towards it, something wet hits my shoulder I lift my sunglasses slightly and look down. A blob of ketchup rests on my black tanktop. Oh, no...

I put my sunglasses back on and look up, searching for the hotdog cart. "Hey you!" I call, when I spot it.

"Yeah?" The guy yells back. "Have a hotdog!" He sends a mammoth hotdog my way.

Oh no, honey-bunches. I bend backwards and throw my arm up, catching the oversized chicagodog in my palm.

"Mr. Hotdog?"

"Yeah?"

"Have a taste..." I read my arm back, standing up. "Of your own medicine!" I shout, hurling the hotdog at Mr. Hotdog. Ketchup and mustard flies everywhere. Chili splatters across his face.

He screams in frustration. "Just eat a hotdog, lady!" He shouts, grabbing the mayo bottle and squirting it across the road at me. I duck, grabbing a rock.

"Eat a rock!" I say, crushing the rock in my hand.

All of the chatter and ruckus on the street stops. Everyone stares at me. Hotdog Man gapes, astonished. I use this diversion to jump onto a nearby trampoline and soar through the air, landing ontop of a Volkswagen Beetle parked in front of Mr. Hotdog's hotdog cart.

"Punch-Buggy, no punch backs!" I sing, punching Mr. Hotdog square in the jaw.

He stumbles back, clutching his chili-covered face with his condiment-covered hands. "What the..."

"Don't play with your food." I spit, literally. He nods, scared and runs away.

The street cheers, and I bow. I can see Radhika by the MellowMushroom entrance, staring in awe and clapping. "No more Mr. Hotdog!" She chants, marching down the sidewalk. Others follow suit, and I feel a cold hand grasp mine, helping me down.

"Good job, Miss. He was a pain. Always throwing chili dogs at us." The man in a pressed black suit comments, straightening his blue tie. I can't see his face completely; he has big, dark sunglasses covering the top half of his face.

"Thanks," I say.

"No problem."

I'm about to walk away when his cold hands clamp my shoulder, his thumb pressing my pressure point. I yelp in pain as I fall to the ground weakly. No one hears me as they chant and March around the town square. "Please sir," I croak, too pained to fight back. I feel so weak. I'm so disappointed in myself.

My world becomes black as a burlap sack covers my face. I scream, "Help!" but no one hears. Two strong, cold hands pick me up and throw me over a man's shoulder.

_~~~_

A/N:

*gasp!* another spy kidnapped???!

So sorry for the late update, I'll be honest: I forgot. Like completely. I know, bad excuse, but gimme a break. Also, sorry it's short. I wanted it out ASAP so no one dies IRL.

But there's good news, too! Next week's chappie is really special ;)!!!

Also, I don't know if it's just because I'm completely and full ignorant in the field of pressure points, but I don't feel pain when someone pushes on mine. Is it just that that's not exactly where mine is? Can they be in different spots? I feel so stupid :') but eh.

Anywho!!! Buhbye! Until Saturday!

Ps. I promise I won't forget👌