A Most Unusual Encounter

Chapter 3

"Did you think that you could really change the future?"
"What did you tell them?"
"Tell us now and we will make your death painless."

James refused to answer any of the questions put to him by his captor. His resistance was met by a sharp blow to his side accompanied by an almost maniacal laughter from his captors. The pain coursed throughout his body. As Bond groaned in response, he couldn't help but hate the fact he couldn't control his body; his pain. He was at his end. James had practically lost all sense of time. He surmised that he'd had about two hours of sleep since his capture. Bond had no idea as to where he was at the moment. He assumed he was somewhere in Montenegro, but even that bit of information was useless. Each time James attempted to close his eyes, he was awakened by the stinging sensation of a whip at his back or electric paddles at his sides. He had only been given water and a few sips at that; no food. Even then Bond wondered if there wasn't something else in the water. Now as struggled to move; hands hoisted above his head, Bond knew one thing; he was going die. The Organization would have its pound of flesh.

The Organization was an anonymous group of hired assassins, information brokers and financial supporters to world terrorists. For quite some time, they barely registered on MI6's or even the CIA's radar. However, following the events in Miami and Montenegro, their existence was quickly made apparent to members of the intelligence community. They did not seem to be following any particular path; rather they were more like businessman. Their services were available provided the fee was paid. No one knew what other requirements were made of those who gained membership into The Organization. However, disloyalty was not tolerated, as demonstrated by the death of Le Chiffre. They had somehow managed to catch James off guard and now he was the victim to a very simple and yet effective torture session.

James didn't want to admit it, but the pain was excruciating. He had dislocated his shoulder earlier in one of his many sessions. He couldn't cry out or even fight back. James was powerless as he hung in the cold, damp darkness. Suddenly and without warning, he felt the stinging sensation of a cat-o-nine tails on his back. No questions were asked. The whipping continued and James screamed in agony. No one heard his cries for help.

"Ve . . . s . . . per . . ." The beatings continued until James realized . . .

. . . that it was all a dream or rather a nightmare.

"James!" A voice shouted. He could hear a voice but had no idea from where it was coming. Everything was still unclear, his vision blurred. He felt someone pushing down on him. Knowing he had to escape, James struggled to sit up.

"James!" The voice cried out once more. He paid it no heed, instead pushing forward, swinging his legs to the side and standing up from the bed. Bond immediately collapsed to the ground. It was then that the waking nightmare ended.

"JAMES!" The voice pleaded. Bond finally woke and opened his eyes to find his body sheen in perspiration. He looked up and found Anaya staring back at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" She asked, her tone conveying both irritation and concern.

"I . . . uh . . . where the hell are my clothes?!" Although at a loss for words, Bond nevertheless noticed the immediate chill which struck his body. He wore no clothes and his energy was drained; just asking the question required an effort.

"Please . . . sit back. You'll hurt yourself. If you want to get up let me help you." Anaya urged; her voice softening.

"Just give me my damn clothes!" Bond retorted, his irritation growing more and more with each passing minute. He found his teeth beginning to chatter a bit.

"I burned your damn clothes!" Anaya snapped as she helped him back onto the bed. "They were covered in filth and blood. Just wait here a minute and I'll get you some clothes!" Anaya turned and left the bedroom, rendering Bond speechless for the moment. He had not counted on her demeanor changing so suddenly. He pulled his knees closer to his body; trying to ward off a slight chill he felt.

A few minutes later, Anaya returned; a pair of pants and tee shirt in hand. Trying really not to look, Anaya began to help James get dressed. She began with the tee shirt, gently pulling it over his head; much like a mother would dress a child. James pushed his one good arm through and Anaya then lifted his other arm, trying not to move his injured shoulder. Next, Anaya brought forth a pair of pants. She assisted Bond in sitting up on the bed once more and in getting his feet into the legs.

"Use me for support," Anaya told him. James did as she instructed and stood up slowly. A momentary wave of dizziness caught him by surprise. He would have fallen again had Anaya not steadied him.

"Are you okay?' She asked.

"I'm fine." He answered, his eyes closed for a minute, hoping the feeling would pass.

"Okay, let me help you finish." Anaya leaned down and began to pull the pants up towards James waist. She tried to not look, but it was difficult not staring. Although he was not overly big, James did indeed have a striking physique. He wasn't exceedingly muscular, but he was far from weak. The combination of the tautness and smoothness of the muscles in James's chest brought many thoughts to her mind. From Anaya's perspective, James seemed to be so perfect, so charming, so . . .

"I think I can take it from here." Bond offered, breaking Anaya out of her momentary reverie. He pulled the pants up around his waist and fastened the closure.

"Of course . . . I'm sorry, I . . . uh . . . would you like something to eat?' She replied.

"That'd be fine." He replied.

James slowly followed Anaya to her kitchen, taking a place at the small kitchen table. Trying to gather his bearings, Bond determined now was as good a time as any for a few questions.

"Where am I? What is this place?" He asked as Anaya began to prepare some food.

"You stumbled into my house. It's not much, but I call it home. You're safe for now. I don't believe the police will be back. Um . . . that's all I can think of at the moment." Anaya turned back to the stove, "Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes. I hope eggs are okay."

"It's fine. Aren't you uh . . . concerned about what the police said regarding me last night?" Bond was grateful but hesitant at the generosity of this mysterious angel in white. He needed to determine to what extent he could trust her.

[size=3][font="Times New Roman"]Anaya stopped and turned towards James. "The police in Montenegro are notorious for their dishonesty. Some of them are also not too bright. The one who came to my door last night must have been new. You came to me, asking for help. For as clich

Edited by lafemmefantome, 01 January 2007 - 04:01 AM.

Chapter 4

At MI6, the scene was a mixture of chaos sprinkled with calm. However, that did not stop anyone, who worked with M, from noticing the tension that permeated throughout headquarters. Most avoided conversation with M, other than what was required of their position. To say that the mood was edgy would have indeed been an understatement. It had been almost two weeks since M last spoke with Bond and there had been no word since then. He told her he would return within a few days.

Recently promoted to the status of double-0, Bond made his fair share of mistakes on his recent mission, and he yet managed to eliminate Le Chiffre, banker to the world's terrorists. As his absence approached the third week, Bond's disappearance was elevated to that of a possible kidnapping. However, no demands had been issued. There were no calls indicating where they could find his body. Simply put, there was nothing. It was as if James Bond of her Majesty's Secret Service had dropped off the face of the earth. MI6 pursued all possible leads, each one ending in a dead end. Nevertheless, there was one lead they had yet to investigate. Unfortunately, it meant dealing with the one person M had hoped to avoid . . .

[size=3][font="Times New Roman"]Ren

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