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-- File: gunsmith_bond.txt
[Hi there! this is a happy little fic I began a while back, but quit work on (attribute this to my laziness...), whicis why it seems to end so, ah, abruptly... Anyhow, it's a little crossover I did of a series which doesn't get nearly enough play. If you have any C&C, it's always welcome, as long as it's honest. Feel free to email me at Big_Joe@n2.com. Enjoy (or not)!]
[Don't let me forget! All the characters except for the raspy goon guy belong to people who aren't me! Just to get that cleared up.]
Gunsmith Bond
Prologue
"Here's the shipment, Bean. Just be careful with it," rasped the contact assigned to deliver the goods.
Standing in the darkened parking garage, Bean looked the man in the eyes long enough for him to get the point. Bean "Road Buster" Bandit was the best at what he did. Questioning his reliability was not recommended.
Bean loaded the case into the trunk of his corvette, "It's fifty grand, not a dime less. If your employer wants too keep using me, it's fifty grand."
"Of course, Mr. Bandit. Why so paranoid?" asked the man from inside his trenchcoat.
"I've had bad experiences with mystery clients," he growled, falling into the driver's seat.
Suddenly, Bean gave a start and looked to the entrance ramp.
"Shit."
A man in a black suit emerged from the shadows, walking casually toward them. "Excuse me, I think I'm a bit lost. Perhaps one of you can help me," he asked in a confident Scottish accent.
Bean stood up out of his car with almost a grin on his face as he saw the man reach into his jacket. "Depends on what you're lookin' for, buddy."
Pulling out a small black pistol and aiming it at Bean's head, he explained, "Why, it's a black case about big enough to fit in your trunk. In fact, I think you may have seen it."
Undaunted, Bean began to get back into his car, "sorry, can't help ya." Looking over for the other man, he found only empty space. He had already taken off.
"Hold it right there. Get it out of your trunk. Now!"
"Let's try no."
"Then I'll just help myself," commented the man and shot Bean square in the chest.
Sitting down, Bean commented as he closed the door, "You're welcome to, if you can."
As he drove away, Bean noticed the man leap out the edge of the garage. Considering that this was the fourth story, Bean expected something more than escape. Plowing down the spiral ramp, he heard another car start up behind him. It wasn't until he was out of the garage that he could hear the engine well enough to place it. Or rather, not to place it. Bean knew the sound of every stock engine ever produced, and this wasn't any of them. Finally, he was able to see the car behind him as in came around a corner. An Aston Martin DB5. Whoever this was, they played hardball. Bean smiled. Good.
After a few minutes, Bean could tell the man had realized that even with that monster engine, he couldn't catch up to Bean. It was a little disappointing. However, the machine guns sprouting from the foglights were surprising. Swerving to the best of his ability, Bean still caught a few bullets, though they only did cosmetic damage. But still, cosmetics cost money. This wasn't amusing anymore. Weaving to avoid traffic, Bean pulled onto the freeway, heading into Chicago. Something caught his eye in the rear view mirror, and Bean barely was able to avoid the small missile in time. Missile? This guy was dangerous. Working to get out of the other car's line of sight, Bean steered for an off-ramp. The other man still followed, though not as closely. Just as Bean got to the exit, something shot out of the grille of the car, which Bean was unable to dodge, given the concrete walls on either side of him. Expecting an explosion, Bean felt a slight shove as it lodged into his rear bumper. Suddenly, the DB5 began to slow, and the corvette with it. Somehow, that thing was hiding a winch and pinion. Bean decided for the last time to just get the hell away. Flooring the pedal, Bean pushed a button that ejected the bumper, causing the corvette to shoot well away from the slowing Aston Martin. Looking at his tag detector after stopping at a gas station some miles up, he was able to determine that the car was clean.
After parking in his garage, Bean assessed the damages. The bumper was not too expensive, and easy to buy without arousing suspicion. The bulletholes, on the other hand, were a bit more conspicuous. He would have to buy new panels and replace them himself, which was almost more trouble than it was worth. The fact that disturbed him, however, was that the bullets had actually penetrated to bulletproof paneling. If that guy had that kind of power, Bean could expect to see him again. After removing the bullets, Bean walked upstairs, sweaty and ready for a shower.
Pulling on his pants, Bean took another look at the bullets. He could take them to Rally and have her check them out. That could give him an idea of what this guy's budget was. They were armor piercers, but especially good ones. One of them, however, didn't look quite right. Unlike the rest, it had simply flattened out, which didn't explain how it managed to stick in the armor. The adhesive on the front did. Suddenly Bean jumped up and ran to the garage.
"Shit! It's probably too..." he broke off as he saw the man in the black suit below, leaning against the trunk of the corvette.
Holding a remote detonator in his hand, he looked up at Bean and said, "I've been waiting. Now throw me the keys or you go up in smoke."
Looking around the doorway, bean saw several shaped charges designed to blow his ass up. "Nice work. Here ya go," Bean commented, throwing the keys from out of his jacket, "But, can I ask you one question?"
"Certainly," replied the man while pulling the case out of the trunk.
"I haven't ever heard of a guy with your skills and equipment around here. Just for the record, who are you?"
Making his way out and setting the timer on his detonator, "The name's Bond. James Bond."
Chapter 1 culture clash
"Hi, welcome to gunsmith cats, may I... oh, hi Becky. What's up?" asked Rally Vincent of the freckled brunette who burst into the gun shop.
Walking past to the counter and adjusting her glasses, Becky motioned for Rally to join her in the back room. Looking to make sure no customers were approaching, Rally shut the bulletproof door behind her and put on a pot of coffee.
Sitting down, she asked, "What's this all about, Becky? You look like you just got back from Detroit."
"You haven't heard about Bean?"
"What about Bean?" replied Rally, beginning to suspect the situation.
"His place got blown up, and somebody stole his shipment."
Rally stared blankly, trying to reconcile this news with reality. "Bean? Bandit?"
Becky began to take on a worried air and continued, "the same. I couldn't believe it either, but I went to check and it's true. Some guy in a suit drove up in a DB5, took the shipment and blew the place up."
"How did it happen? It isn't like Bean to let himself get followed," asked Rally as she stood to get the coffee.
"Well," explained Becky, looking upwards, "I'm going to give you this info for free, as you can probably help me out in this case. While he was receiving the shipment, the man in the suit showed up and tried to get it from them at gunpoint."
"Lemme guess," said Rally, giving Becky her coffee, "He shot Bean, Bean drove off, and they made a chase of it."
"Exactly. Of course, Bean lost the guy pretty quick, but he lost his bumper, too. The guy had some sort of grappling hook. Plus, he tagged Bean's car in the process."
Rally looked up, "That would explain how he was able to plant the explosives in Bean's place, but not why Bean didn't detect the tracer."
"It's scrambled so you can't pick it up with the kind of equipment Bean has."
"Whoa. This is professional stuff. What did Bean get into?"
Becky reached into her pocket, and Rally could hear the familiar sound of spent rounds tumbling about, "This is above professional, Rally. I found these at his place. This is the one from Bean's jacket."
Rally looked at the shell, mentally taking into account the shape and size of it. "Fired from a walther ppk. Not my style, but..."
Becky dropped about ten rounds onto the table, "These were in his car, but he dug them out."
Once again, Rally eyed them carefully. "These are custom jobs. They look like military work, maybe."
"They were fired from the other guy's car." Rally whistled in appreciation. "But you'll really like this one. This is the tracer."
Becky dropped one lone bullet onto the table.
"That?!" exclaimed Rally, "That's an undetectable long-range tag? In a high velocity bullet? Yeah, they made it so the front would collapse to take most of the impact. And the front's sticky to keep it on armor it can't pierce. Who the hell has access to this kinda shit?"
Becky suddenly became deadly serious. "This guy was one of two things; a government intelligence agent or a syndicate agent. Either way, this is way outta the league of anything I've ever dealt with, and most probably anything Bean's ever dealt with. This guy had charges that leveled the building without touching the garage. I want you to help me get to the bottom of this."
As Rally put her coffee down to speak, a familiar voice came from the door to the garage, "Can I help, too, Becky?"
Becky turned around to see Minnie May Hopkins' almost five-foot frame and answered, "Of course, just don't get any ideas."
"Ideas? I just wanna find out what the hell those explosives were! Man, if I could get my hands on those!"
Rally and Becky both grimaced at the thought.
"May," added Becky, "This is big. Real big. If you could ask Ken if he knows anything about it, it would help us a lot."
"Alright, but I need to know all the details," said May as she sat down and poured a cup of coffee.
Suddenly the red light above the door to the shop began to flash, signaling a customer. Letting the other two talk, Rally returned to her post at the counter to do her day job.
Looking at the smaller pistols was a fortyish man in a black suit. The word dapper sprang to mind.
"Yes, may I help you?"
He turned around smoothly and strode to the counter and looked Rally in the eyes. Somehow, he wasn't letting Rally look away. "Yes," came his voice in a smooth British accent, "I'd like you to take a look at my gun. It's been through quite a bit, and I wouldn't mind having it silenced, too, if that's not any trouble, darling."
A bit taken back by the accent, she proceeded, "Alright, Mr..."
"Bond. James Bond."
Writing his name on the form she asked, "So Mr. Bond, did you come all the way from the UK just for my little gun shop? Oh, and that reminds me. I'll need the gun."
Drawing a black walther ppk from his jacket he answered, "To be honest I'm not in the states for your shop, dear, but I couldn't resist stopping by. Your reputation precedes you, Rally."
Picking up the gun, Rally frowned as she felt the weight of the bullets in the clip. "Thanks, but you oughtta be more careful. You left it loaded."
"I always do."
Looking out the window for his gray Aston Martin, she replied "You must lead a dangerous and well informed life, Mr. Bond. How did you hear about Gunsmith Cats?"
Smiling slightly, he returned, "Oh, a coworker recommended you. It seems we're both the best at what we do."
Somewhat flattered, but suddenly nervous as she realized how dangerous he was, she asked, "What would that be?"
"Oh, quite a bit. Perhaps I'll tell you all about it when you drop off my gun. I'll be at the Hilton in suite 1236. How does ten o'clock sound?" he proposed as he leaned toward her.
"Um, ok, sure, Mr. Bond," responded a suddenly flustered Rally, "um, do you still want the silencer?"
"Of course. We wouldn't want to wake the neighbors," he commented as he strolled out the door confidently.
Rally took a moment to regain her composure, and another moment to review the previous events. Shocked by her girlish behavior, Rally found her way back to Becky and May.
"Rally? Are you alright?" asked a concerned Becky, "You look out of it."
"Um," began Rally as she was interrupted by May.
"So who was he? When's the date?"
"Huh?" asked Rally with a start, "How'd you know it was a man?"
Closing her eyes, May explained, "When you've lived the life I have, you get a sixth sense for these things. So how was he? Rough? Suave?"
Rally shook her head, "Um, suave. He was really smooth. And British. And he drove a DB5."
Becky and May leaned forward and looked at Rally in disbelief.
"You think it was..." trailed off Becky.
"Yeah, it was the guy alright, but he didn't seem like the kinda guy who could take on Bean."
"Well he did," interjected May, "Did you get his name?"
"Uh huh. He said it was James Bond. And he left his ppk here." said Rally, holding up the small black pistol, "so I can see if it fired that bullet."
"This seems too good to be true," commented Becky, "I think there's more to this than we thought."
"I guess I'll try to find out tonight at ten."
"What?" asked Becky and May in unison.
"He invited me to his room at the Hilton to return his gun," explained Rally.
As Becky simply stared, May exclaimed, "Alright! Way to go Rally! Finally, a date with a real man! Wait, he's not ugly is he?"
"What? No! Hey!" Rally caught herself, "It's not a date. I'm just going to his hotel room this evening to find out what's going on."
Becky eyed Rally a bit sideways and said, "Rally, you're going to an attractive, debonair, British man's EXPENSIVE hotel room tonight. If you don't think that's not a date, maybe you ought to lower your standards a bit."
Moneypenny looked up from her typing as the door to the reception office swung open and a hat flew gently in, landing perfectly on the hat rack. As James Bond sauntered into the door, holding a large black case, she put her hand to her chin and gave him a slightly reproving glance.
"James, you're late again. M has been stewing in her office waiting for you"
Sitting on her desk, James put his hand on her own. "Speaking of stew, let's you and me have a quaint American dinner tonight, with a fireplace and everything."
"Surely you've heard what Americans do next to fireplaces?"
"Oh, well nothing's too good for you, darling."
Suddenly a voice from the box on the desk ended their conversation. "007, when you're quite through, it would be nice of you to come into my office," M asked, audibly annoyed.
Hopping down from the desk and making for the door, James called back to Moneypenny, "It looks like we've been thwarted again, darling."
"Now you know what the other fellow must feel like, James."
As soon as the door was shut, M swiveled about in her chair to face 007, eyes cold with professionalism.
"That took you long enough, 007. Did you encounter trouble with the driver? More importantly, did you get the case?"
Opening up the plastic case, James revealed the large hollow cylinder inside. "Here it is, the shipment they were trying to keep out of everyone's reach. Did you get any information on that driver or the girl with the gun shop?"
Tapping a few keys on her computer, M brought up the data. "Bean Bandit. Often referred to as 'Road Buster.' He's known for incredible driving skill."
"I had assumed that. Also he was driving a modified Corvette, perhaps 1971."
"Yes," answered M, looking intently at the screen, "That does seem to be his vehicle of choice. He never does a job for less than forty-thousand dollars, and his reliability is unquestionable."
Bond smiled. "Not anymore, I suppose."
M resumed after a short sigh, "Then there's the girl, Rally Vincent. Gun shop owner by day, bounty hunter by night. She's been known to associate with Bean, but not as a friend. They seem to be something of professional rivals."
"I know the feeling."
"I'm sure you do. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand. It would seem that her skill with a pistol is unsurpassed. In all possibility, she might have outshot Scaramanga in his prime."
Bond smiled again, "Except that he's a bit deceased. What does she use? I'd like to know what to expect."
"She seems to favor a cz-75. Also, her partner both in the shop and in the field is a woman you may want to keep your eye on," stated M, handing James a picture of May.
"I just might do that," James commented, seeing far more than the dimuitive exterior.
"Her name is Minnie-May Hopkins, and she is known as an explosives expert, though far better known in circles of, shall we say, ill repute. Be careful, James."
Almost grinning, James looked up at M. "This just gets more and more interesting, doesn't it?"
"If you think that's interesting, wait till you hear who she's dating." M reached over and kept talking as she handed James another picture. "Ken Takizawa. I don't think I need say anything more."
The smile had vanished. "No. No, you don't."
M turned off the screen of her computer after a moment as began again, "So you have arranged a meeting with Miss Vincent?"
"Yes, hopefully I can convince her to help us on this one, or at least squeeze out a bit of information."
"Please, spare me the details," responded M, eyes closed, "report back first thing in the morning. Oh, and leave that... thing here," M looked toward the case, "We'll get it to Q branch for examination. Dismissed, 007."
James nodded his affirmation and walked back out to Moneypenny, who was waiting with anticipation.
"Did everything go alright, James?"
"Of course. But it seems I may have to deal with a woman of the night," James said in mock horror, giving the picture of May to Moneypenny.
"You're so brave. You'll do anything for your country, James," she replied sardonically, looking at the photo, "Absolutely anything."
Waiting in the elevator, Rally Vincent turned to the small blonde behind her. "May, did you have to tag along? I thought you said this was a date."
"I'm just here to make sure nothings goes wrong. Just call me if you need me."
Rally looked down in shock, and stammered, "s-so, you're NOT going to try to interfere? You're actually trying to help without spying on me?"
Tapping the small microphone on the almost invisible headset, she responded, "Hey I never said anything about spying."
Rally shot her a dark look.
"But I think I'll leave you two alone. I can't even remember the last time you had a date, Rally. I'm sure as hell not gonna screw it up on you."
"But it's not a date," Rally grumbled weakly.
When the elevator stopped at the twelfth floor, Rally and May stepped out as casually as possible. They walked together as far as the next fork in the hall, at which point May turned off and made herself out of sight. Contrary to the normal effect of May leaving, Rally felt more nervous. She hoped she wasn't walking into a trap. No, he seemed sincere. There was a good chance he just wanted to have a nice evening with her. Rally grimaced. Perhaps it would be easier if it were a trap.
Suddenly, she found herself in front of suite 1236. From the distance to 1234 and 1238, she could tell how large it was. As she knocked, she mouthed a silent 'wow.'
"Come in," a familiar voice called from inside.
Putting her hand on the gun inside her jacket, she slowly entered in as if to a war zone. Inside was James Bond, sitting calmly with a bottle of vodka on a table next to him.
"Hello, darling, I've been waiting," he spoke after a sip of vodka, "But I don't think you'll need that cz-75. This is a social visit."
"No, I think I'd rather have some insurance," she said as she aimed it for his forehead, "I want some answers, buddy."
"How can I argue with that? I never could say no to a woman."
Rally rolled her eyes. "Ok, Casanova, who do you work for?"
"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell unless I get something in return," he smirked.
"I guess I was wrong."
With a smile, he asked, "About what, dear?"
"About you. I thought you were different from other men, but you're just after the same thing everyone else is."
"Well, I wasn't aware everyone else was after the new drug runner in town, too," he replied, "In that case, I'm surprised he's lasted this long."
Rally's look switched to a questioning look. "You mean that's who Bean was running that for? But he said he'd never run drugs again..."
Standing up, Bond answered, "Well, it seems he was as good as his word. It wasn't drugs."
"What was it?"
"We're, ah, not sure just yet," he said as he walked next to her, "But we have a bad feeling about it."
Suddenly, Rally thrust her gun at him as he began to try to push it down. "Hey! Get back! How do you mean, we?"
"We're on the same side, Rally. There's no need for that thing."
After a moment of thought, she returned the gun to its holster. "Oh, and here's yours," she stated, pulling his ppk from another holster, "and the silencer, too."
Catching it as she threw it to him, he commented, "I can actually feel the difference. Oh, and I can see my face in it. How much was it again?"
"Here's the bill," she said, stomping it onto the table with her hand.
"So, can we be friends, Miss Vincent? As I've said, we're on the same side, and I think you would get something out of it, too," he asked, signing the bill.
"Hm. Well, if that's all our business, I'll be going. I'll call you soon with a time and a place."
Shaking his head, he replied, "You don't trust me?"
"Of course not," she said coldly, and then added with a smile as she walked out, "and we need to talk terms."
James sat down, satisfied, though not quite pleased with the previous events. She refused both his offer (ouch) and him (ouch again), but at least she was considering them. And if she had contacts with Takizawa, she would find his references more than reassuring. But still, he was alone.
"Who are you?"
James looked up suddenly at the woman he recognized as May Hopkins.
"James Bond. You must be the famed Minnie-May Hopkins," he spoke, his prospects improving.
"Famed?" she asked, closing the door.
"Oh, I've heard you're very good at causing explosions."
Proudly she replied, "Well, I am known for my expertise with grenades."
"Who said anything about grenades?"
Rally's doorbell rang, prompting her to get up from her place in front of the computer. Opening the door, she saw the slightly concerned face of Ken Takizawa.
"Oh, hi, Ken, come in," she invited.
"Right," he answered as he sat on the couch, "Now what's this about? It's not like you and Becky to come to me on something."
Looking away, she replied, "Well, we thought, with your, um, past, you might be able to help us."
"Hmm. Yes, May told me some of the situation."
Rally made a sudden realization. "Hey, speaking of May, shouldn't she be with you?"
"She's not here?" asked Ken, "I haven't seen her today."
Rally put her hand to her chin and commented, "You know, I haven't seen her since we went to the guy's hotel room. Oh no, you don't think..."
"Probably not. She's resourceful. And it could be other things, too."
"Like what?"
"We can ask her next time we see her," he said coolly, "So have you got any information on this guy?"
"Yeah, we know he carries a ppk, he drives an Aston Martin with all sorts of gadgets on it, and he's British," Rally answered.
Ken thought for a moment before commenting, "I think he's probably on our side, and he sounds like... no, but..."
"But what?"
"Have you got a name?"
"Yeah, answered Rally, "He says his name is James Bond."
Ken froze. For a minute, Ken looked past Rally at some nonexistent point. Rally decided to let him be. Finally, he blinked and narrowed his eyes.
"What room was it again?"
"Hilton 1236. Why?"
"I think I should go now."
"Um," began Rally timidly, "So I take it he's a bad guy?"
"Hmm?" asked Ken, snapped out of his daze momentarily, "Oh, no no, he's with MI6. He's as good as it gets. I just have to go."
Rally stood up and opened the door for him. "Uh, alright, Ken. Thanks."
"Yeah, don't mention it," he mumbled, not really listening to her.
Closing the door, she turned to look out the window. Something had really disturbed Ken, but he had said Bond was on the right side. Now she just had to get Becky to help negotiate.
May Hopkins groaned slightly as she awoke next to a big strong man. For a moment she breathed the name, 'Ken,' and held onto him. Unfortunately, as she grew more awake, she became aware of three unfortunate facts. One: this was not, in fact, Ken, but James Bond, with whom she had had startlingly long, experienced, creative sex the previous night. Two: she was sore in some places and aching in others, and not necessarily in the places one would expect. Three: this was not Ken. Tumbling out of the bed, she groaned as she hit the floor, not only because of what she had done, but also because of, well, what she had done. As she stood up, she felt all too many muscles give her a stern admonishment. Before her Gunsmith cats days, she could've taken that workout easily, but she hadn't done anything nearly that ambitious for far too long. Looking at the man in bed, however, caused her to slap her hand to her forehead and grimace. As she looked around the room, memories began to return. The sights of different places, objects, and furniture caused a series of 'ik's, 'ooh's, 'hmm's, and even the occasional surprised look. On her way to the shower, she bit her lip as she walked past the recliner. She hoped it was scotch guarded.
By the time she got out of the shower, it was a good way into the morning, and the man in the bed was dangerously close to waking up. Dressing quickly, she headed for the door to the next room and froze as she opened it. There, waiting, was Ken.
"Hello, May," he said, looking up at her.
May simply stood silent, unable to think of anything to say.
"Let's go."
The best she could manage was to almost silently edge out some kind of affirmation and follow softly. Once in the car, May looked up at him as he started the engine, and tried to say something, not that she had anything to say.
He looked at her. "It's not really your fault. And this isn't the end. But don't make a habit of it."
"O-okay," she whispered.
"He's what?!?" shouted Becky
"MI6. That's what Ken said."
Becky thought and replied, "Wow. This could turn out to be a good thing after all. We could get some real good stuff if we play this right."
"What do you mean?"
"My knowledge of British Secret Service is not all it could be, but I have heard things," she answered, "And they're good things, too."
"Go on."
"There's supposedly a branch which makes all kinds of secret weapons and insane gadgets, which I'm guessing is true."
"Given that car," Rally mused.
"Right. So I figure, that at the very least, we can get some top notch equipment."
"Should I give him a call then?"
"If Ken says he's MI6, he's MI6. Go for it."
Rally walked to the phone and called the number for the hotel.
"Hilton Chicago. How may I help you?"
"I want to make a call to suite 1236, please."
"Yes ma'am," the voice said just before a click.
After a few rings, she heard James answer, "Hello, James Bond here."
"This is Rally."
"Oh," he said, audibly perking up, "I'm sorry. I should have recognized you."
She rolled her eyes, and replied dryly, "Don't worry about it."
"So, are you bearing good news?"
"Actually, yes. We've decided to take you up on your offer..."
"Ah, then..."
"BUT," she interrupted, "We need to talk about out terms. Come down here at seven and we'll do it."
"I'll be there, but I'm going to bring a friend or two, if you don't mind."
"Once again, don't worry about it."
He laughed slightly. "Oh, you're so nice to me. I think I won't be able to say no to you tonight."
"Then maybe you'll throw some of those famous MI6 gadgets into the pot, too."
"Ah, so I see you've looked up my line of work."
"Something like that. Just be there," she said as she hung up the phone.
Looking back at Becky, Rally grinned and put her hand up for a high five.
"Alright!" exclaimed Becky, "We got 'em!"
Becky and Rally were preparing diligently for the negotiations when Ken came in the door, followed meekly by May.
"Oh, hi Ken," Rally greeted casually, then doing a double take at May, "Wh-what's wrong, May? You're not all over Ken like normal..."
May barely lifted her head. "I, uh, I, I'm sorry... I don't know what I was thinking..."
Ken sighed and sat at the table. "Alright," he said softly, "Let's talk James Bond."
"So HE killed 003?" asked Q in surprise.
James looked sown at some gadgets, "Yes, that's right. I ended up shooting Takizawa's girlfriend in the scuffle. It's not something I'm proud of."
"I should imagine not!" chastised Q, "Then again, I can't particularly say I'm proud of anything you've done..."
"Thank you for the history, 007, but we have business to attend to."
Q and James looked over to M, who had just entered the laboratory.
"Oh, yes, this little specimen," commented Q as he picked up the cylinder Bond had delivered earlier, "R, bring the apparatus over here. And don't foul it up this time..."
A gangly, mustached man turned around to look at his superior. "Right away! Lord knows I'm paid well enough to put up with this harassment..."
"Pipe down!" ordered Q as R wheeled a cart full of devices, "Now, we've done various tests on this piece you've brought us, and the results are..."
"Rather inconclusive. Aren't you glad you came by to see us?" interrupted R.
Q shot R a withering glance and continued, "As I was saying, inconclusive. But we did find that it is made of a high-density polymer, impervious to many forms of radiation."
"Impervious to radiation?" asked Bond, "What would a drug dealer want with that?"
M looked to Bond and replied, "That's what you're to find out, 007. Now, what was this about the bounty hunter?"
"Oh, yes. She seems to want compensation for her services."
"What's this got to do with us?" asked Q.
James gave Q a grin and picked up a random gadget. "Well, it seems your work is in high demand, old chap."
"Ugh, field work," sighed Q as R chuckled slightly, "And I suppose I'll need my assistant to carry all the luggage!"
As Q made his way off in his normal frustrated way, M turned to James. "And I suppose you'll want me there as well..."
"Of course, M. You wouldn't trust me with 3 young ladies, would you?"
Chapter 2 Point for Point
Rally and Becky looked on in awe as a man in a lab coat wheeled in cart after cart of bizarre devices, weapons and machinery. Bond and an older woman were already in the basement and waiting when another, even older, man in a lab coat stepped inside. Rally looked over at Becky and saw that she was spending as much time watching Bond as she was the merchandise. Whatever Bond had that caught May was aiming for Becky too. Rally looked at him and remembered when he had made the date in the gun shop. Even she wasn't immune, it seemed.
Finally, the last of it was presented on the carts. The two men stood back and let Becky and Rally simply look over the plethora of devices for a moment. Rally did her best to pretend she knew what they all did, though she was completely lost. Becky seemed to be doing the same thing. The younger man seemed to be hovering over them, apparently trying to get them to say something first. Rally tried to put some distance between them.
"I thought you said there would be THREE girls, 007," M whispered into Bond's ear.
"Well, I had somewhat of a run in with one of them. The one connected to Takizawa..."
"I see," M turned her attention to Q, who had just made his way to them, "What is all this?"
Smugly, Q replied, "Oh, these are all either old enough to be outdated, or simply personal inventions of mine. I certainly wouldn't breach national security."
Standing behind Bond and in front of Becky, Rally listened as the older man, apparently known only as Q, explained the functions of the various devices and demonstrated on his assistant, R. While Q seemed to be enjoying it, R didn't crack a smile the entire time. Afterwards, Becky and the woman, called only M, sat down to terms. Eventually it was agreed that Rally and May would assist Bond in any way necessary, given a hefty fee. Rally was amazed when she received $20,000 in cash, and her pick of any of the various devices laid out before her. Apparently the British economy was in better shape than it seemed.
[See, there's that abrupt end I was talking about... Anyhow, if anybody expresses an interest in seeing more of this I'll certainly get around to it promptly (no, really!). If you want to see my personal domain of hell, as well as some original stuff (yes, that kind of thing still exists), please visit http://DUNOTS.tripod.com and stroke my ego. Oh, and to all you MSTers... have fun, but let me see what comes of it.]