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The Lingering Fate


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#1 Double-Oh-Zero

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Posted 26 August 2003 - 05:22 PM

Discuss the story in this thread.


Okay, here we go. By popular demand (*ahem*- Blofeld's Cat and Dr. Niles Crane) I'm posting my proposed Bond Short Story here for the world to read. Now, as far as I know, all ideas in here are my own, and didn't come out of anyone else's fanfiction, or for that matter, any of the official authors' works. If you feel that I've copied it from somewhere else, or this story has sprung up before, please feel free to PM me. If not, it's still from my noggin, so bugger off if you think you can copy it without my permission.

The Lingering Fate: A New Bond Fanfiction
by Fraser M. Lomas


James Bond disliked waiting. He lit his second cigarette of the past hour and contemplated the situation. Bond had been ordered by MI6 to keep a close eye on the conference concerning revolutionary new software manufactured for the governments of the world that would(supposedly) be of great benefit to society . The superpowers had asked MI6 to designate a few agents to scrutinize interplay during the conference on this, the night, when the software was being sold to world governments. Bond had been assigned the rather mundane task of monitoring the back entrance to the building . Beforehand, MI6 received word that there was an assassin who had been assigned by an excluded government to assassinate the representatives and take the software himself. And, if the assassin's duty was fufilled, the agents were to investigate as to why and how it could have happened. Bodyguards were stationed throughout the building, which was a large, high profile executive building. MI6 decided that a government building would be too risky, and the location where the software was developed would be too obvious for the assassin to infiltrate, so they stationed the potential buyers at a venue near MI6 HQ, since the software was developed in the UK.

And now Bond numbly sat in the driver's seat of his rented car that was stationed a block away from the building so as to not arouse suspicion (Bond had insisted on the Aston Martin DB5, but the rented car was another precaution by MI6), pondering for the seemingly hundredth time why and how long he must wait. Waiting was, to Bond, inviting Death to slowly wrap its icy hands around your neck, squeezing slowly and leaving you gasping for air and life. The only time Bond didn't mind waiting was usually waiting to kill, as he knew how the situation would play out. In this instance, he couldn't know, and he desperately wanted to know. Bond longed for the abstraction that a heated card game could provide in a casino or at a club, rather than his present situation in the front seat of a car, in the darkness. He was waiting behind the hotel, in the alley. No one was around. He could hear noises in the distance from cars, people, and other sounds associated with a city the size of London. He hadn't been assigned a real mission in months, and his trigger finger was itching intensely for some action. He lazily stubbed out his cigarette in the car's already filthy ashtray from users past, and became restless. He checked his watch, which read half-past eleven. "Christ", Bond thought, "what in the hell are these people discussing in there?" After all this waiting, Bond's interest was piqued - he was curious to see just how "revolutionary" and "beneficial" this software was. He had been neither informed of it's pupose , nor had he been permitted access to the building, unless a time arose when the people inside needed his protection.

An almost incoherent "thut, thut" and some movement in the quiet shadows out of the corner of Bond's left eye made him reach for his Walther PPK and Q-Branch infra-red/night vision binoculars, all in one fell swoop. Bond immediately saw the suspected assailant kneeling on the pavement across the street of the hotel, in the shadows, with some sort of semi-automatic gun that was used for range shooting, since it had a scope and long barrel. Might be a custom gun, thought Bond. He also noticed two agents dead on the ground in front of the hotel. Immediately, he turned on the small walkie-talkie in his cuff that allowed him and the other agents to communicate. He alerted the other agents to the presence of the killer, just as he disappeared behind the hotel into the shadows. Bond quickly dropped the binoculars, and attached a silencer to his gun. He made sure he had his extra ammo clips in his jacket pocket, then straightened his tie before exiting the car. Bond didn't expect a response from the others via his earpiece. He left the car with his gun held at his side, taking the small sniper's scope out his pocket while glancing around then proceededing cautiously towards the hotel. He approached the two deceased guards, submerged in a pool of their own blood. Bond reacted to a sharp noise that emanated from around the corner by raising his gun, at the ready to inject a dose of death into the assailant if the situation warranted it. Bond leaned against the wall and briefly updated the situation by means of his radio. He was informed that the conference was still going on, and the area around the room was impenetrable, but that the killer still hadn't been spotted. Bond cautiously crept around the corner, where he noticed that a window had been broken. Bond silently but quickly dashed to the window, but he was halted abruptly by a bullet whizzing past his arm. Instinctively, Bond dropped to the ground and took cover behind the nearest object, which happened to be a dumpster. He peered around the corner, and ascertained that there was no one there. Then, another bullet seared past his shoulder, and hit the ground loudly. Bond realized that the assassin was above him, as an empty ammo clip dropped clumsily from above him onto the ground nearby. Bond looked up, but the killer had already left the now half-open window of an hotel room three stories above Bond. Quickly, Bond activated his other Q-Branch gadget, his wristwatch that ejected a 75 foot rapelling cord, and aimed it at a spot just beside the window. Bond was elevated in seconds, and had his gun aimed and ready. He managed to get one leg through the small opening, which had obviously been closed in haste. He opened the window with his leg, and slid halfway through. He detached the cord from his watch, and slid all the way through the window. The hotel room was unoccupied, and Bond made his way to the closed door. However, when Bond tried to open it, he found that it had been locked from the inside.

#2 Double-Oh-Zero

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Posted 26 August 2003 - 05:25 PM

"Good evening," said a harsh voice from behind. and even though the lights remained off, Bond knew instinctively that he was in the same room as the assassin. The faint light from the window allowed Bond to see that the killer was wearing a ski mask, which covered only the bottom portion of his face. Over his left eye was a patch, which failed to conceal the prominent scar across that side of his face. His hair was like Bond's, jet black with specks of silver at the sides, but without the thick comma hanging over the forehead.

"I suppose you're the night porter," said Bond, starting to walk towards the assailant. "In that case, I think it's time for one of us to check out." As soon as these words had left Bond's mouth, his Walther was kicked out of his hands, and Bond was being tackled to the ground. Bond immediately gave a rabbit punch to the killer, and kicked him off his chest. Suddenly, Bond saw a flicker of steel in the hands of his opponent, and realized a knife was coming towards him. Bond jumped to his feet, but the knife still managed to somewhat hit it's mark, cutting a deep gash in the left side of Bond's chest and part of his upper arm. As a counter measure, Bond immediately got a firm hold of the man and threw him into the door. The assassin slowly rose to his feet, his back toward Bond,and started unlocking the door. Bond dashed over and kicked him sharply in the kidneys. The man then hesitantly jumped to his feet, and drew out a long cord, and attempted to get it around Bond's neck. Bond grabbed the man by the arms and flipped him onto his back. Now with his assailant at his mercy, Bond realized that he only way to make him give up was to shoot but not kill him. Without hesitation, Bond picked up his Walther, aimed steadily, and took satisfaction in hearing his weapon speak it's deadly words for the first time in a long while. The man's body slumped onto the floor, his hands still clutching the cord, feebly. Bond stood over him, holding his side with his free hand, intent on finding out who this man was working for and who he was. Bond gingerly removed the mask, and looked coldly into the man's eyes. He knelt over the man and spoke into his walkie-talkie to alert the others of his current situation. Bond grabbed the man by his shirt collar and began to ask him questions.

"Who sent you?" Bond authoritatively asked the assailant.

"Gow to 'ell," said the man, in a thick Cockney dialect. As he said it, he quickly drew a small cyanide pill from his coatsleeve and swallowed it in one gulp. Bond tried to make the assailant cough it up, but it was too late. As the poison did its work, the man's eyes rolled back into his head and his body became a lifeless machine, whose components had the energy extracted from them by the hands of death. Bond went over to the bed, lit a cigarette and painfully took a deep breath of the smoke, ignoring the "No Smoking" sign clearly posted on the wall.