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[Rogue007]

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[center]Ian Fleming

[Rogue007]

London, England. December 20

James Bond, Agent 007 of Her Majesty’s Secret Service sat at his office desk.
His office lacked any real personal items, but Bond always liked it that way. He didn’t like to be reminded much of his past, and, despite what his fellow agents said, thought it made him perform better in the field.
Not having a true connection to anyone surely helped when you were facing hordes of men with various weapons ready to take your life.
Bond sighed as he filled out paper after paper that detailed his mission of how he had defeated Raphael Drake and his elaborate plan of destroying the world. What a mission it was, too. It wasn’t every day he got the chance to go up into space. Although, it wasn’t something he’d like to experience for a third time.
How he hated paper work. Bond could just as easily tell everything that happened to M, but of course, things had to be done in a business-like fashion.
He normally ended up telling M everything anyways, and also managed to escape the hassles of paperwork when it came time to go out on another mission.
After what seemed like four hours, Bond finished the paperwork. He leaned back in his chair, resting his head in his hands.
Bond looked to the wall where the clock was held. The large hand pointed to eight, and the other, smaller hand laid to rest on the 12.
Eight o’clock? It feels like I’ve been in here for hours! Bond thought unhappily, for he’d only been at MI6 for an hour. He would undoubtedly receive much more paper work and be assigned to research for the next 12 or so hours.
Bond opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of brandy and a shot glass, the British flag expertly graved onto the side.
He poured himself a glass and took a small sip as to saver the drink as long as he could.
The com that was located on his desk pinged.
“Bond, get in here. This is an emergency.” M said hastily, her voice slightly altered to give her a more mechanical tone.
Bond quickly got up from his desk and walked past the other Double-0’s, normal agents, and inexperienced operatives, most of whom had only started recently.
Bond thought back to his days as an operative. It was no fun, indeed. No gadgets, no freedom, nothing. You got your orders, you carried out whatever mission you were assigned with the other operatives and agents, then reported right back to MI6 to do twice as much paperwork as you would be required to do if you were a Double-0.
Bond walked through the door that separated the normal offices from Moneypenny’s and M’s.
He looked to Moneypenny and smiled as she worked on her computer. She had always looked so cute when she worked, her face stern and determined as she filled out whatever paperwork and retrieved whatever documents M needed.
Moneypenny looked up from her computer and at James. She held his gaze for a moment, then looked back down at her computer.
“I’m sorry about last night, Moneypenny. I had a mission that I needed to complete. You understand, don’t you?”
She said nothing as she continued to work at her computer.
Bond gave a sympathetic smile and kissed her on the head. They did have reservations at one of the best and expensive restaurants in all of London, and work had once again gotten in the way.
Bond slowly, cautiously opened the door to M’s office as not to disturb anything important she might have been doing. As he looked inside, he saw that she was looking his way, apparently not looking like he might have disturbed something with his entrance.
M was looking older than ever. Dark circles almost seemed to be one with her eyes. Terrorists, dictators, and psychotic warlords had been most active as of late, and they were beginning to take their toll on M.
“Sit down, James. And close the door.” M gave a cold look to Moneypenny who was spying inside the room. Moneypenny quickly acknowledged that M had seen her, and retreated back to her desk.
Bond did as he was told. He closed the door and then sat in the chair that sat before M’s desk.
“James,” M began with a sigh. “I know this isn’t going to be easy for you to hear, since I know you were great friends with Charles, but I regret to announ-”
“No,” Bond said, cutting her off. “Don’t tell me Charles didn’t make it.”
M gave him a stern, disciplinary look for cutting her off. “As I was saying, I regret to announce that Charles didn’t make it off the island last night. He sent me everything he knew, but apparently he was caught. The suicide coin we gave him…we implanted a chip into it as to notify us if it had been used.”
M sighed again. “Q received a message that indicated Charles had indeed used the suicide device.”
“No, no. Charles wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t give up like that.”
“Not unless what information he was carrying was to important for anyone to discover. I can assure you James, his death was quick and painless. Far less painless then his certain torture would have been.”
Bond sat there in silence. Charles Wicker, Agent 004, was Bond’s good friend. His brother, Damien, was also enrolled with MI6 as an operative. His father had also been a Double-0 a few decades ago.
“What information had he been carrying?” Bond swallowed hard, afraid to know the information that had drove his friend to kill himself.
M got up from her desk, using her controller to initiate the display board. The screen, looking much like a television, came up through the floor and flickered on. It began a slideshow of pictures. The images consisted of an island, a Blackhawk helicopter, armed soldiers, the interior of some high-tech building.
“Charles was sent out to investigate suspicious activity in Japan. A new computer company had been set up in the outskirts of Tokyo, one who’s construction hadn’t been announced by anyone. The corporation who owns it refused to let anyone outside of its workers to tour it. Tokyo police are investigating, but I had good reason to believe there was more to it than that.”
“What reason?” Bond shot back.
“I’m getting to that, James. I did some investigation on the company…”
“Yes?”
“It’s the same company name that Dr. No had used for his
‘bauxite mine’ at Crab Key, so I sent 004 to Tokyo. I received a communiqu

Edited by Rogue007, 14 November 2004 - 11:48 PM.

[Rogue007]

Washington, D.C. December 21

Felix Leiter stood at the front entrance to the Ronald Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C., smoking a cigarette. The cigarette was a great comfort as harsh, December winds relentlessly pounded him.
Bond’s flight was over half an hour late, and Felix was getting anxious. He had some very crucial and important information about Dr. No, and each second wasted was a potential life that could be lost if they didn’t act quickly.
Felix waited for another half an hour before Bond finally strode out of the front entrance.
Felix ran up to him and enthusiastically shook his hand.
“James, James, it’s good to see you!”
“Likewise, Felix.” Bond, a half smile spreading across his face. Neither of them had talked to or seen each other for a long time. “Sorry I was late. Airport security, you know how things are.”
Felix nodded understandingly, shaking Bond’s hand a moment longer before indicating for him to get in the car.
Bond did so and climbed into the passenger side, closing the door.
Felix started the car, put it into drive, and they were off. He looked to Bond out of the corner of his eye, noticing that he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.
“You know, you really ought to wear your seatbelt, James. Driving a car is one of the most dangerous things to do these days.”
A broad smile spread across Bond’s face. “Tell that to someone who isn’t enrolled in MI6, Felix.”
Felix laughed heartily at that. He was indeed very happy to see Bond, and from what Felix could tell, Bond was equally as happy to see him.
They drove for a little while longer before they came upon an old, dirt road.
Felix turned the car to the left and down the dirt road, the car rocking in a steady pace as they traversed the road.
“I didn’t they still had dirt roads in Washington.” Bond remarked.
“Well, you’d be surprised with how cheap the CIA can get, even for it’s top spies.”
They drove for a few minutes longer before a large, towering house of 19th century architecture. A large, spacious front porch lined the entire house, hammocks and chairs lined the porch as well. It looked like a nice little retreat from any job, whether you were a spy or otherwise.
Felix brought the car to a stop just in front of the house and put it into park. Twisting the keys, the car gave a slight rumble, and the engine stopped sputtering and settled into silence. He popped open his door and climbed out.
“This is where we CIA agents come to relax a little bit on the weekends. It looks old, but the interior is one of magnificence. More gadgets and gizmos in here that even your Q Branch could appreciate.” Felix said as Bond exited the car.
“Ah yes, the old M told me about this place. I heard it even inspired Major Boothroyd to make some of his own gadgetry.”
“Only in America, James.” Felix quipped. “Come, let’s go inside.”
Felix wasn’t kidding. The interior of the house was totally redone with a 21st century mold. The walls were painted with a soft, amber-colored paint. Leather chairs, couches, and a big screen television made up the living room.
Bond followed Felix into the kitchen, which was equally as modern and lovely as the living room had been.
Felix opened the fridge, also modern in design, and pulled out a bottle of brandy and two frosted cups.
“Care for a drink, James, before we go down to the weapons area?”
Bond nodded and Felix handed him the cup, a fourth of the way filled with brandy.
The two of them both took a sip before Felix set off down the hall. Bond, in turn followed Felix out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Felix knelt over the coffee table and began searching it.
Bond was about to inquire as to what his friend was doing when Felix apparently found what he was looking for. The table slid a few feet to the right on hydraulic levers, revealing a metal door. A combination lock was placed in the middle, next to a long, slender knob in which to open it.
“Convenient,” Bond added, sipping his drink.
Felix put in the correct combination of numbers and twisted the knob. A hydraulic hiss emanated from the door before it lifted up and out of the floor.
A ladder, looking much older and weathered than the rest of the house, presented itself.
Felix began to walk down. Bond emptied his cup of brandy and followed after him. He reached the end of the stairs and saw that Felix was nowhere to be found.
The space he was in was small and claustrophobic. Highly outdated computers and radios filled in whatever space was originally allowed.
Bond examined the equipment, looking for some sort of trip-up device that reveal some other room that Felix undoubtedly had already entered.
He looked a long while longer before a com pinged, and Felix’s laugh could be heard.
Bond smiled, realizing his friend was playing nothing more than a practical joke on him. The room evaporated before him, as would the visible C02 you exhaled on a cold winter’s night, into a immense room filled with weapons, cars, and enough ammunition to please anyone looking to fund a small Army.
Felix walked out of one of the offshoot rooms, a broad smile on his face.
“Magnificent little device, isn’t it?” Felix asked, showing Bond a cylindrical, gray device. A red square sat in the middle of the device, next other various blinking lights and switches. He pressed a button, and a small monitor and keyboard revealed themselves. “You enter in whatever projection you want, and it will be realized in a 20 foot by 20 foot display. Comes in handy for confusing any prisoners or guards that haven’t noticed you set the display. Unfortunately, the images it projects is fairly limited, but we’re working on that.”
Bond took the device from him and examined it more thoroughly.
“Magnificent indeed, Felix. I wish Q would’ve given me one of these.”
“Actually, he did intend to give you one on your last mission, but he was worried about its limited projections. But you’re in luck, since you’ll be getting one of these when we go to Japan.”
“That reminds me, Felix. M said you had some important information about Dr. No.”
“Right, I was just getting to that. Come, let’s go meet with the squad that we’re going with, and I’ll brief everyone on the situation in there.”
Felix began walking to one of the other rooms with Bond following him. Felix entered the room that he had exited a moment earlier, and Bond casually strode in after him.
The room was dark and foreboding, scarcely lit with few chairs and one large screen in the far end of the room. It was of great contrast to the rest of the house.
A group of eight men stood in the room, most of them dragging on their cigarettes. They all looked to James like tough, no-nonsense Navy Seals.
Felix cleared his throat.
“Gentleman,” He started, waiting for everyone to deviate their attention to him and Bond. “This is Commander James Bond. James, this is one of our finest anti-terrorist squads.”
“How do you do?” Bond said calmly, as if he were ordering a dinner.
“He’s works for the British Government, and I can assure all of you, he’s going to be a great asset to our mission in Japan.”
“Damn Brits,” one of the soldiers mumbled.
“Corporal Larel, have you anything to add?” Felix called to the disgruntled soldier.
“No, sir. I‘m just a little anxious.”
“I’m sure.” Felix said, pulling out a small remote from his shirt pocket. He pressed a button and the screen on the other side of the room lit up, displaying a small island with scattered buildings located near the center.
"This here is what we believe to be Dr. No's fortress. The island isn't far from Japan itself, making it very easy for Dr. No to get any supplies from the mainland to his island in a very short amount of time. Our objective is to infiltrate this island, take whatever prisoners we can, and secure as much information on Dr. No's own intentions in utilizing this island. Now, we will reach the island via helicopter. When we come within 100 or so meters of it, we will dive into the water and make our way through the caves located at the eastern end of the island. Any questions?"
No raised their hand or make any sort of sound at all.
“Alright, men, gear up. We’re leaving in half an hour.”
“Come, James. I’ve got a few more things to give you that I’m sure will aid you greatly in this mission.”
Bond followed Felix out of the room. He was about to face his nemesis once again. He just hoped he, nor anyone else that was going on the mission, would meet the same fate as Charles did.

Edited by Rogue007, 15 November 2004 - 12:03 AM.

[Rogue007]

Over the Atlantic ocean. December 22.

James Bond sat comfortably in the seat of the Boeing 747, typing a report to M on his laptop, who was no doubt sitting at her desk at MI6 at this very moment, waiting for his message.
The plane, owned by the CIA, was comfortable and spacious, ideal for relaxing one who was about to depart on a very dangerous mission.
Next to him, Felix Leiter slept, snoring rather quietly. Bond had seen many things in his life, but never a man who snored so softly as Felix.
Bond looked up from the monitor of his computer, hoping to find the waitress who came by every hour or so. The interior of the plane was that of elegance and beauty, yet not so proper to discourage one from kicking their feet up. The seats were made of leather, so soft that they practically molded into the image of your body. So comfortable in fact, Bond had struggle to keep awake.
Bond typed a moment longer before he sent to message to M. It wasn’t long before he received a reply.
James, we’ve received some new information on Dr. No’s whereabouts. We are certain that he has two bases: One in Wyoming and another on an island on the coast of Japan. Why he’s setting up headquarters at either location is still a mystery to us, however, we are sure he’s importing missiles from North Korea. We’re doing everything we can to find out more information about Dr. No’s allies and intentions, but you and I both know that they cannot be good.
Also…I’ve received word that Damien Wicker, Charles’ brother, has left London for Japan. His father tried to get contact with him, but his attempts failed. I wouldn’t doubt that he’s going on some sort of vendetta mission against Dr. No. When you arrive in Japan, do try to locate him. Good luck, 007. I’ll keep in contact with you via radio when you arrive in Japan.
The words resonated through Bond’s head like a blow to his stomach. Wicker. He had always knew Damien and Charles were close. He should’ve talked to him, told him about how mentally and physically unhealthy hatred and revenge could be on the human body. He was a fool not to think Damien would pull something like this. Damien had, after all, been a very short tempered and aggressive one.
I have to get into contact with Damien, Bond thought to himself. It’s the least I can do for his father…for Charles.
Bond immediately began typing a reply, writing a rather long one at that.
“Sir?” A soft, lovely voice asked.
Bond looked up from his computer and saw the waitress.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Ahh yes, that’d be great. I’ll have a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred.”
“Of course, Commander.” She walked away to whatever kitchenette the plane included. Bond watched her as she left, for she was a fine woman. Her shiny, silky black hair glistened in the soft light of the plane as she escaped from view. A fine woman, indeed.
Bond sent his reply to M, then closed his laptop. It was another 10 hours until they arrived in Japan, and he didn’t want to head into a full-out breach with only a few hours sleep. He’d wait until he finished his drink, then he’d promptly go to sleep.
He hadn’t been to Japan in many years, and, he thought with a smile, it was about time he came back.

Japanese runway. December 22
The plane landed around 9:00 AM Japan time. The runway was surprisingly unpaved, but the runway was, after all, a privately owned one.
Felix strode pass Bond as the walked down the exit ramp of the plane, and, to Bond’s annoyance, brushed his teeth with an equally annoying electric toothbrush.
Their was a man waiting for them at the end of the ramp. Surprisingly, he was not Japanese, but, from what Bond could tell, he was Caucasian.
Large sunglasses hid his eyes, giving him a very shady and suspicious look. He calmly spread suntan lotion on his neck and parts of his face.
Bond and Felix reached the end of the ramp, and the man immediately ceased in his using of the lotion. He extended his hand, which Bond shook slightly.
“We weren’t expecting anyone to meet us,” Bond said, looking the man over. “Do you own this runway?”
The man smiled, revealing very radiant, white teeth.
“I’m Luke Baski,” He said, taking off his sunglasses. “Yes, I do own this runway. I like to greet all my more important guests.”
“I’m sure,” Bond looked him in eye for a moment, to Baski’s great discomfort. He cleared his throat and went to shake Felix’s and all the other soldier’s hands.
Felix, who still was brushing his teeth, watched Baski with a suspicious look about his face.
“I didn’t know anyone was going to greet us,” Felix spat the mixture of saliva and toothpaste. “In fact, my superior officers would’ve told me if we were going to meet anyone here. I don’t trust him, James. I don’t think he is who he says he is.”
“That’s because he’s not. I did some research on this whole area, just to be safe. There is no businesses, plane airports or otherwise, that are owned by a ‘Luke Baski’. Come on, let’s go have a little chat with ‘Mr. Baski’.”
They walked over to Baski, who was again spreading suntan lotion on himself.
“Mr. Baski, a word,” Felix said, indicating for him to follow him.
“Hmm? Oh, uh, sure.”
“Mr. Baski, how long have you lived in Japan?” Bond asked.
“Oh, I don’t live here. I just come by here every so often.”
“Then how do you greet all your guests?” Felix put in.
“Oh, well, not many people use this runway…”
Bond nodded to Felix, and pulled out his Walther, and Felix pulled out his Beretta.
“Who are you working for, Mr. Baski?” Bond shoved the pistol hard into his chest.
“What? Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do. Is it Dr. No?”
“Dr. who? I don’t know any doctors! I just own this runway.”
“Mr. Baski, I don’t know where you’re from, but us Americans, well, let’s just say we don’t take kindly to liars. Larel! Lock him up in the plane, will you?” Felix called.
With a slight yell, Baski shoved Felix away and took off, sprinting down the runway.
Bond coolly raised his pistol and fired three shots.
“Felix, take your men and check out the rest of the plane. There could be more of them.” Bond said as he took off towards Baski.
Baski’s pants were covered in blood. He screamed in agony, doing his best to crawl away from Bond.
Bond grabbed him by his shirt collar and shook him a few times.
“I’ll ask you again, who are you working for? Don’t make me repeat this a third time.”
Baski spat blood on Bond’s face, who calmly wiped it off.
Bond fired a shot in between Baski’s legs, who, in response, yelped in fright.
“Okay, okay. I’m working for Dr. No. He asked me to come here t-” A bullet tore through his head, sending blood flying in many directions.
Bond ducked and rolled, then brought his Walther up, looking for the attacker. He saw no one.
Felix ran up to him, his Beretta still in hand. He saw Baski’s bloodied body, and turned away, fighting off nausea.
“Assassin,” Bond said, reached into Baski’s shirt pocket, looking for any kind of identification. He pulled out an ID card, which had Baski’s face on it, and sported a bar code at the bottom. However, much of the other information was crossed out, save his height, weight, and date of birth.
“Damn it.” Felix said, noticing the card’s condition. “Figures he would’ve pulled something like that.”
“Yes, I agree. Standard for anyone who has a chance of getting caught.”
“Let me call up M and my superior officers, and I’ll update them on the situation. They might have some information of their own, as well.”
“Make it fast, Felix,” Bond said, sticking his Walther and Baski’s ID card back in the holster. “From what M tells me, Dr. No’s getting more of nuclear missiles from North Korea as we speak.”
“Right. We’ll unload the helicopters at our warehouse my government owns down the way, and we’ll be at his island by tonight. Chances are, we’re going to meet major resistance on this island.”
Felix began to call up M, nervously pacing back and forth. Thunder blared in the distance as dark, purple clouds moved in. It was going to be a long day.

Edited by Rogue007, 20 November 2004 - 12:01 AM.