A Little Big Secret
Gumball had always been in a basic, cliché family, with average friends, and a cliché life path that would not prove of much potential or importance, at least to the people that knew him. One detail was left out, one of great significance that would alter his entire future. Gumball, despite his young age (12), was a federal agent. By law he was required to never reveal his FBI membership to anyone, not even his own kin. This always bit into him, for everyone else thought he was a child of no special talent or purpose. He would continuously be put down because he was an easy target that couldn't defend himself. At least he could physically, thanks to his combat training. However, this couldn't change the fact that he was an emotional punching-bag.
Gumball couldn't deny that he enjoyed some the perks of being a federal worker. He was permitted and required to carry a firearm at all times, but he couldn't go flashing it everywhere. His missions allowed him to skip class whenever he was needed on the field, meaning he had gradually become better at creating excuses. The sad thing was that Mrs. Simian had constant opportunities to overwhelm him with make-up work, periodically causing him to stress. Of course, she got a kick out of that. When he ever had free time, he would either attempt to spend time with Penny (as friends with a crush), walk around town (he was allowed to go into public without adult supervision), or go to the local bar. Yes, Gumball is allowed to enter a bar, but he can't purchase alcohol, not that he would want to. He would often receive awkward glares from other customers, and the bar tender would have to constantly brief them that he was legal. Gumball would visit the bar only to play a round of solitary pool, which seemed to calm him as a beer quells the common working man.
Now, we shall follow current events. (In Gumball's POV)
"Are you in position?" An operative radioed through to my ear buds as I sat at a stool in the Elmore Bar.
"Yes, I'm here. I have a visual on our target. I'll go make contact."
"Affirmative."
I approached a kid of the same age, relatively same height. He was a rouge agent that needed to pay for the abuses of his privileges. He was the first to speak.
"We both know we have what each other needs, x-agent Gumball, so let's make this quick. Did you bring the
COKE-a-cola?"
I flashed a bag of fake cocaine, a few cubes of chalk.
"Does that answer your question? Do you have what I need?"
He gave me three Jacksons ($20 bills) and snatched the bag. I decided to ask why he "needed" the drugs, though I had already heard from briefing.
"If I don't get this guy what he wants, my ass is in hot water. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
As I watched him leave with a nervous look in his eye, I radioed in that the target was on the move. Before I began to follow him, I held the bills towards the light. Hmmm.
I pushed through the doors of the bar and silently rounded the corner as he did. He slipped into a back alley, which I hated! What happens in an alley stays in an alley. I gave some adult agents the nod for them to move in from the other side. I paused for a second to listen.
"IS THIS SOME ****ING JOKE? I pay you in advance and this is what I get? You've got some explaining to do kid. I knew I couldn't trust a twelve year-old ass."
The suspect started to stammer in response to the larger figure when I pulled out my pistol and barged in.
In a calm voice I declared: "Federal agent. Freeze."
The pair immediately turned the other direction to run, only to find two more agents surrounding them.
"**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTT."
The large one pulled out a stun grenade and was automatically shot down, but not before he hurled the explosive in the two agents' direction. The weapon blew them unconscious, which left one other man… or kid.
The fear-stricken bastard barreled into the streets. I could not shoot because he didn't possess a weapon, or so I thought. I tailed him through several blocks, relentlessly screeching at him to throw in the towel. However, he was desperate. He was fed up to the point where he drew a handgun and leaped into a bus. He pointed the firearm at the driver, Rocky.
"Away from here, NOW."
At a loss for words, Rocky complied. I squeezed through the door in the nick of time to face my opponent. With an irritated glare, he fired a couple of rounds from the back of the bus. I leaped behind the front seat, but I realized something before I shot back. He had hit my right paw.
Blood covered my paw and soiled my now-blood red fur. I wrenched at the pain.
Lefty, don't fail me now.
The twelve-year-old gunman continued to point the barrel in my direction. I couldn't risk looking out to shoot. I noticed a curved mirror perched above me, my last resort. I reached my left arm from behind the seat, a morphed mirror view as my only reference. Of course, my accuracy stunk, but it was enough to scare him behind a seat. Suddenly, I noticed the soft plush of the chair I was behind. Poking a hole through it with a claw gave me an idea. I moved from behind the seat and fired bezerkly at the seat he was behind. There were so many holes that it reminded me of Swiss cheese. I heard a loud "AAAAAAAAGHH" protrude from his hiding spot. He fell to his side, releasing his weapon to clench his wounded leg. I kept the barrel pointed at him as I approached. I made the rookie mistake of letting my guard down to look back at all of the silent, shocked passengers.
They cowered before me, assuming I was a criminal as well. I was about to correct their intuition when one lone rider, a peanut girl with antlers, stood up from her seat.
