167 replies to this topic

[ImTheMoneypenny]

Just finished reading Chapter 3, certainly didn't expect the outcome! Good work once again!

As I said in my DA thread, your work is taut action and also very visual and visceral as well. I tend to get flowery feminine in my style, I wished I could get properly masculine in writing.

Anyway, enjoying TMBYD very much!

[Harry Fawkes]

Spoiler

There was a soft knock on the door and Bond wrapped a towel around his waist.
‘Come in,’ he called.
A tall, slender woman with long black hair came in carrying a silver tray. She wore a black silk shawl which swung around her body as she moved across the room to place the tray on the centre table.
She turned and smiled beautifully at him.
‘Ms Sabah thought you might want a drink before you rest,’ she told him in perfect English.
Bond looked down at the three bottles: Gin, Vodka and Kina Lillet. There was a shaker, a lemon and a small ice bucket.
‘That’s very considerate of her,’ he said.
The woman nodded and started pouring the ingredients into the shaker.
Bond stood there, looking at her.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked after a moment.
‘Satina.’
She finally poured the drink into a long glass and gave it to him.
‘I hope it is to your satisfaction, Mr Bond.’
He raised the glass to his lips, holding her bright brown eyes in his and tasted it.
‘Perfect,’ he told her.
She looked pleased at that.
‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’
Bond smiled softly.
‘I’m tempted,’ he said, eyes glowing. ‘But no, I’ll be fine thank you.’
And with that Satina left and he was alone again.
Bond moved to the window and looked out.
The red ridges and deep depressions of the Libyan desert beyond went on forever. The only way out of this place would be by chopper, he reflected as he relished his Martini.
But then where the hell would he fly to if he did manage to escape?
The British Embassy was located on the 24th Floor of the Burj Al Fateh building in central Tripoli. Getting there would be a bloody gauntlet in itself considering the fact that he was a British spy operating illegally here...
Bond knocked back the remaining Martini and went into the shower room. There was everything he needed – shower soap, shampoo, electric razor, aftershave lotion, tooth brush and tooth paste and deodorant.
Bond shaved and had a cold shower after which he fixed himself another Martini.
He was tired now.
Five minutes later and completely naked, Bond lay down on the bed and closed his eyes…

COMING SOON

CHAPTER 6

[Greene Planet]

When in 09? Nice excerpt by tha way!

[Harry Fawkes]

Spoiler

'...Tell me about the Apocalypse Agenda then?
Nadesh sipped some of her drink and when she turned back to face him, held his eyes in her own.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘I find that hard to believe, Nadesh.’
Silence, just the distant, sad call of a desert owl from outside.
‘What about the Shaheel Peshant?’ Bond asked finally.
‘The Shaheel Peshant is an organisation my father set up years ago to train men and women from a number of countries in Africa that are afflicted with war. Eritrea, Djibouti, Kenya, Sudan, Mauritania, Ethiopia, Somalia, Rwanda. God only knows how many innocent women and children die every day because of these wars.’
Bond sipped some of his drink.
‘The people in these countries I’ve just mentioned are helpless, James, helpless in the face of evil oppression. There are small pockets of resistance against these dictator governments, freedom fighters who risk their very lives to overthrow some of the most cruel and inhumane leaders of modern times. I’m talking about people like Robert Mugabe, Geer Mukombozi, Kamuzo Banda, to name but a few. Well, these fighters need money, weapons, training - which is exactly what the Shaheel Peshant provides. My father has dedicated his life to these causes. He has worked hard to build up a network of business partners who can finance such a project on a large scale.’
‘You finance terrorism.’
She was taken aback by that and it showed in her eyes.
‘Freedom fighters, James. We finance freedom fighters.’
‘One man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist.’ He told her...

ON DANGEROUS GROUND

COMING SOON

[ImTheMoneypenny]

Can't wait!

[Harry Fawkes]

Chapter 6 posted.

CHAPTER 7
EXCURSION TO HELL

COMING SOON

[Harry Fawkes]

Spoiler

The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) is the part of the British Cabinet Office responsible for providing co-ordinated intelligence assessments in the fields of security, defence and foreign affairs. It oversees the setting of priorities for the UK's four main intelligence and security agencies (the Secret Intelligence Service, the Security Service, GCHQ, and the Defence Intelligence Staff), and also their performance. The JIC's main task is to produce top-level all-source intelligence assessments for UK ministers and senior officials. The main building of the Cabinet Office is at 70 Whitehall, adjacent to Downing Street...
It had turned rather cloudy that afternoon as the Daimler turned through the gates. It dropped him outside the main entrance and a young man in a light grey suit greeted him.
‘Good afternoon, sir.’
He led him upstairs along a carpeted corridor to a white door directly opposite the entrance to the Devonshire Room and was shown to a comfortable chair in the outer office.
The young man then disappeared behind a door and Colonel Gordon Jackson sat back.
He was sixty-four, of medium height with broad shoulders under a Burberry coat which he wore over a dark blue three piece suit and white shirt, the 22nd Special Air Service Regimental tie perfectly knotted at his throat. He had the dark ruthless face of a man who
had seen everything there is to see, and more, much more.
It was several moments later when the young man reappeared.
‘Sorry to have kept you waiting, sir,’ he said. ‘The Committee will see you now.’

[Greene Planet]

Freakin awesome chapter titles, I jealous.

[Qwerty]

New addition up now.

[Harry Fawkes]

Hiya folks.

Sorry about the delay but I'm back.
First I have just posted Chapter Seven which I enjoyed writing immensely. Secondly, I owe you an apology of sorts. Chapter 7's title is Queen's Regulations and not as was reported by myself earlier as Excursion to hell.
That's Chapter 8.
Must've been the bubbly. Or simply the fact that not even I know where the hell I'm going with this story.

Ah well.

Anyway, hopes you enjoy the British end up on things!

[Qwerty]

New addition up now.

[Greene Planet]

Exellent work Fawkes

[Harry Fawkes]

It was a few minutes before midnight when Bond and Nadesh left Al Hasarran on two black horses, riding out of the large wooden gates at a fast gallop.
It was a beautiful night, the full moon shining brightly, the desert around them mystifying, alluring. The air was quite cool now and Bond wore a light blue cardigan.
They’d just finished dinner and were now on their way to visit what Nadesh had called ‘Id Dmuh ta Allah’.
What exactly that meant Bond had no idea.
He looked at her as she rode her steed - the arched back, the blue black hair blowing in the wind towards him, the wonderful sight of her lean thighs between the horses back, not to mention her perfectly rounded backside in the tight jeans, bounding up and down with each hurtle.
Bond smiled.
She was something, this Nadesh...
About twenty minutes later they rode over a large sand dune and came to an oasis in the middle of this vast ocean of desert. It had appeared as if from nowhere, magical, out of place in this empty yellow void.
Bond could hardly believe his eyes at the beauty he was faced with. Palm trees, fresh and luminous, green bushes, bright and strong; exotic wild flowers and plants of every colour and description...
All this bordered a wide and long pool of calm, dark water.
Heaven in hell.
Nadesh dismounted and stretched after the ride.
‘Id Dmuh ta Allah, James,’ she said as he moved in beside her. ‘The tears of Allah.’
‘Beautiful. Just like you.’
He looked down at her and his eyes devoured her...


Harry is Back (

Spoiler

I hope

)

[Greene Planet]

Me too.

[Harry Fawkes]

EXTRACTS FROM TMBYD

After having ‘ejected’ the secret agent aboard his sleek projectile-looking Subaqua-Scooter through the left torpedo hatch, the British Trafalgar Class nuclear submarine crept away from the forbidden waters at sixteen knots, an ancient dark grey sea monster above white sands and rock.
Gliding through the ink black sea for over an hour and a half, the secret agent finally surfaced within six hundred metres offshore for his final approach, a sinister figure in black shark-skins.
The Mediterranean Sea was dead-calm that night and, thankfully, there was no moon.
His dive helmet was equipped with a night-image intensifier lens and he looked around, the distant coastline glowing eerily.
Checking the readings on the display inside his helmet, he then took a final bearing of his landing zone, El Hadara beach and checked his air. He punched and locked the coordinates into the Scooter’s guidance system then finally pulled back on the throttle.
The Subaqua-Scooter together with its black rider sliced through the sea again, disappearing as though it had never been, down into the abyss below, and Commander James Bond stirred it progressively towards the Libyan coastline beyond...


‘By the way,’ Raisul said, lighting a long black Cheroot as he waited. ‘I heard someone almost killed you eight months ago.’
Bond’s eyes darkened at the memory.
‘That’s right. I took a bullet to the chest and one in the back.’
‘You are lucky to be alive then.’
‘Believe me, luck had nothing to do with it. Hell was just too crowded at the time.’
Mulai Raisul blew out dirty grey smoke.
‘And Stavros?’ he asked.
Bond finally wrapped the last soft flap of the black veil around his face, leaving only his eyes exposed.
‘He’s the bastard who hired the executioner who shot me. He’s also my best lead to the Marcuzzi.’
The man called Mulai Raisul flicked the cheroot away.
‘Then God help him. Come, Englishman, the horses are further on and it is a good ride to where he lives. On the way, you can bring me up to date on how things are back at MI6


He reached down then, sliding his hand across her stomach and fondled her womanhood with his gloved fingers for a while, caringly, deep. Sabiha arched her back and moaned softly. She loved the touch of real leather against her body, inside her.
Stavros smiled.
He was a strange one, Sabiha observed, this man. But it was worth every moment being with him for the short periods he required her, which unfortunately were not as often as she would have favoured. Once every two weeks, if she was lucky. He would send one of his men down to Bin Al Hara to summon her. No matter what she’d be doing she would have to drop everything and ride out to him, even if she was with another client. Still, he paid well and although he had strange tastes (not that she hadn’t come across worse), he always ended up satisfying her like no other man could or ever had, albeit his sometimes violent ways.
Stavros finally stood up and got undressed and she looked at his handsome body. It was muscular ~ the body of a hard man, of a fighter and he was fully aroused.


He moved with the speed of a snake striking its prey. He threw himself on top of him, reaching for the man’s neck and dug his fingers into it. Bond squeezed for all he was worth. His sharp nails drew points of blood as they broke skin. He formed a hook with the index and fore finger of his right hand, the thumb curled inwards towards the anterior jugular, just like his unarmed combat instructor had shown him a million years ago, and with one sharp jerk into the neck followed by a stiff pull sideways and up, Bond savagely tore out the man’s throat from his neck. The man squirmed on the floor, his scream choking to a gurgle, both his hands to his neck in an attempt to stop the blood, his life, from gushing out. Bond watched him jerk violently about on the floor in a fit of spasms, a hideous display, that terrifying gurgling noise coming from his mouth and bright red blood gushing between his hands.
Bond crawled back against the wall behind him, away from the surge of blood, white as a sheet, chest heaving to catch his breath.
It had been a bloody long time since he had used such a nasty method to kill a man.
Hoda Korosu the Japanese called it – Naked Kill.
He looked down at his right hand and noticed that he was still holding the man’s throat.
James Bond felt physically sick…


Bond took a pull on the cigarette. He didn’t like what he was hearing at all but he needed more, much more than what Stavros was letting on.
‘There are ways I can make you talk,’ Bond said and there was a cruel menace in his voice. ‘Painful ways so I wouldn’t force my hand if I were you.’
Stavros nodded.
‘I will not talk unless I want to and you know that, Bond. Not even under torture. I’ve said enough already. Take me with you and I will give you all you need to know. Other than that…’
‘And how do you propose I get you out of this country?’
‘There is an airstrip three miles away from here. I have a plane which I use now and again to fly out of here. I could fly us both to Malta. Once I am safe in London I will talk.’


Bond managed to look around him and saw what looked like a sleek, silver Lynx helicopter landing opposite on the road, its rotors whirling round. He watched as soon after someone stepped out.
Two riders dismounted their bikes and went over to greet the new arrival.
They talked for a couple of moments then walked towards him and he crawled up on both knees, hands flat on the cold sand, coughing.
‘Please don’t move, James, or my men’ll have to shoot you dead.’
Bond couldn’t believe his ears.
He looked up at the person who had arrived in the helicopter and his heart missed a couple of beats, sinking when he saw her face. She was just how he remembered her: the stunning face, glowing, exquisitely olive coloured and the luminous blue-black eyes. The excitement in them, that glowing fire that burned brightly was still there. The mouth, sensuous and full, and last but not least, the purple-black hair - straight, shoulder length.
He bowed his head as if in defeat and stayed there looking down at the sand beneath him.
‘I knew we’d meet again, James,’ Nadesh Sabah told him cheerfully. ‘Serendipity at its best. And there I was thinking you were dead and gone.’


He took a long pull at the cigar and looked down at them, his eyes glowing.
There was a passionate fire inside his eyes and the twelve were simply captivated by them.
‘You have all invested money – millions and millions of dollars,’ he continued. ‘You have invested manpower, property, intelligence, technological information - your lives, even - just to see this new beginning through. To witness the rising of a new era. Well, my friends, what you have invested has not and will not be in vein. We are there. You are there. The Shaheel is there.’
Sabah courteously raised a hand and the lights in the room dimmed gradually.
A few feet away from him a holographic image materialized from nowhere. It was the image of the most powerful weapon ever invented by man: the Antiproton Energy bomb.
‘Gentlemen, I give you Prometheus’ fire…’


They were now about one hundred meters away from the bomb Keller had planted.
He produced the small radio control device.
Thirty meters.
Twenty.
Ten.
Five…
‘Now!’ Keller hissed through clenched teeth.
A blinding flash of pure white light lit up the landscape, accompanied by a thunderous explosion which shook the entire road. A column of black smoke soon followed, filling the night sky. The other Cherokees skidded out of control and veered off to the right and left to avoid the burning wreck of the lead vehicle that now blocked the road.
Eleven figures dressed in black appeared as if from nowhere and started blasting their weapons at the vehicles.
The SD11 men responded heroically, some dashing out of their vehicles and shooting as they ran for cover, others were cut down as they responded from their seats or tended to the wounded.
The fire-fight lasted around ten minutes during which one of the Shaheel men, using an AAM S5 Stinger, shot down the two helicopters as they circled above, their flash lights lighting up what had now become the killing ground...


‘Nadesh, your father will never let go of you. There’d be no place on earth where he wouldn’t find us. If his organisation is as big as we believe it to be he has men everywhere. We’ll always be looking over our shoulders. Whatever has to be settled has to be settled here at Al Hasarran before we even think of looking for what we had before you left that day.’
‘You’re very cruel, James,’ she said. ‘I can see that now. But then you’re a spy, aren’t you? And spies can be very cold, can’t they.’
‘If I don’t stop what you’re father is planning then a lot of innocent lives might be lost. I have a job to do and I’m going to do it. I have no choice.’
She nodded resignedly. ‘I will help you in any way you require. You are the man I’ve fallen in love with and I’ve already lost you once; there’ll not be another time. Now come, let’s eat and then I want to show you something…’

‘Colonel Jackson!!’ Lord Desprat called out, his cheeks turning bright red. ‘May I remind you that this is the Joint Intelligence Comit…’
‘May I remind you of the Queen’s Regulations and Orders, Lord Desprat,’ M said cutting him off abruptly. ‘The Secret Service Act, 1985, Section 36, Paragraph 4.’
‘What are you talking about?’
The Colonel opened his leather briefcase with his good hand and produced a thick red manuscript. He leafed through the pages and after a few moments, paused then read out loud.
‘It shall be lawful for the head of the Double O Division to make regulations or orders with respect to the establishment, government and discipline of such division, or any part thereof the terms, conditions and extensions of service and the discharge and training of, reinstatement and hitherto deployment of any member of such division or any part of or unit thereof and with respect to all matters and things relating to the duties and responsibilities as handed down directly to such by the Prime Minister of the day. Such provisions supersede any other intelligence or security service, unit or committee in order to reach such aim under this act.’
A deafening silence fell then and M looked directly into Lord Desprat’s eyes.
‘In other words, Sir, my division is sovereign from any other service or committee relating to Intelligence and Security matters,’ M told him. ‘Which I am sure you will agree explicitly means that I am answerable directly and exclusively to the Prime Minister himself.’
‘I must protest!’ Sir William spat.
‘That is your privilege, Sir William.’ The Colonel told him. ‘But right now you will shut up!’

COMING SOON EXCURSION TO HELL

[Harry Fawkes]

[color="#FFC0CB"]

Spoiler

Bond was about to say something when a sudden noise distracted him. It was the sound of oncoming vehicles in the distance.
He turned and saw four bright lights cutting through the darkness further on, headlamps.
‘What’s going on,’ Nadesh said and they got up.
Two Land Rovers came to a halt further on and six men dressed in black robes and black and whiter headscarves disembarked. They carried rifles, AKs.
Bond watched them approach, a bad feeling to it all.
The leader, Ali Hamid, came forward, a slight smile on his rugged face.[/

color]


Harry Fawkes

[Greene Planet]

when will the new edition be up?

[Harry Fawkes]

Just posted it off to the mods. Now I'm gonna log off, sit back with a nice cuppa and relax. Catch up a bit with a bit of reading myself Ah, but TO DIE ALONE



Harry Fawkes

[Greene Planet]

Its cool having exellent author review my work, awesome. Having seom trouble making out the rest though, any tips?

Edited by Greene Planet, 12 February 2009 - 01:47 AM.

[Harry Fawkes]

9

THE THOUSAND FACES OF DARKNESS

COMING SOON

[Qwerty]

New addition up now.

[Greene Planet]

Umm, you have two chapter sevens.

[Harry Fawkes]

Many thanks Green Planet. Must've been in the clouds! So I am now on Chapter 9 then. Uh, yeah, well, erm, uhm...

COMING SOON THEN CHAPTER erm, urh, erm 9

[Harry Fawkes]

Well, Bond has gotten himself into a right fix.

60ft below the ground in a cold, dark hole.

How Fleming's hero'll cope only God knows.

Suffice to say it is not going to be easy.

I have alot of dark horrors in store for him begining with a visit to his past - namely his parent's death and the untimely death of Tracy.

Infact I intend for Bond to spend his time in the most horrible condition described in Chapter 8 reflecting upon his rather tragic life.

In other words, he is going to have to endure the most gruelling form of torture known to man.

The torture of his mind.

And believe me, before the thousand faces of darkness you've got to be a very strong man to come out unscathed...

Harry Fawkes

[Greene Planet]

Nice poem. And yes, you are on chapter 9. So, is this your last piece of fan fiction your doing? Hope not.

[MkB]

I'm way behind my fanfic reading schedule, but I hope to catch up with the last chapters soon. Keep writing!

[MkB]

Finally finished chapter 8 (or 9... or whatever... I lost count too )

I believe the situation you left Bond in at the end of this chapter is a potential feast for a Freudian analyst! Looking forward to seeing what you have in store next

[Greene Planet]

you guys must have alot of time on your hands, I hardly ever get anything done.

[Harry Fawkes]

Lost a man today. mood. No mood to write. Young chap. Good soldier. Dedicated. Got a piss up tonight. Can't believe its almost been twenty years for me. This guy's only been operational for eight months. what a life it can be sometimes.

[Greene Planet]

Are you in the military?