#exploding pen

Did you know that you'll be able to get an exploding pen in Hitman 2 next week? Well, you can. But what other unlikely weapons would you “kill” to see in the game?

Stay a while.

Hello and welcome back to another of our Community Q sessions! Yep, it’s the time of the week when we flip the tables and get your opinion on a different topic each and every week. So, have a look, have a think, and tell us your opinion.

Community Q: Which unlikely weapon would you kill to see in Hitman 2?

Agent 47…

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YEP YES Jen.

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“… and you gave him my fucking car?!” 009 was yelling.

Q was very quiet. Confrontation was not one of his known strong points. Generally, Q dealt with confrontation by blowing something up by way of a deflection and hoping that would do it.

(Apparently it was not something to do in a board meeting. M had been deliriously angry, once he’d stopped laughing about it).

“I repeat: I did not give. He stole.”

009 let out a short, bitten-off laugh. “You’re trying to tell me that your favourite agent accidently broke into your citadel to steal the best car MI6 has churned out in a decade?”

“Car manufacture is not our primary aim, but we are damn good at it,” Q returned, staring at his desk with absentminded optimism and trying not to flinch at the shouting when 009 got too close. “009…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“What are you doing?”

Bond’s voice was very mild.

Q’s eyes darted straight to the door. “Ah, double-oh seven…”

“Get out, Bond, I’m talking to our esteemed Quartermaster.”

Never had the word ‘esteemed’ held so much poison. Q had frozen entirely, a rabbit in headlights with nowhere to go. “I…”

“Shut up.”

“You do not tell your superior officer to ‘shut up’,” Bond pointed out, with a little more steel. “What is the problem here?”

Q cleared his throat. “009 is just leaving, I think.”

“The hell I am.”

“I am still your superior officer,” Q pointed out dangerously, rather grateful for Bond reminding him. “Out. Please?”

009 wasn’t moving.

Q grinned, winked at Bond, and threw something at their feet.

There was a melodramatic puff of bright purple smoke. Bond ducked, Q ducked, and a smaller secondary explosion burnt 009 at around chest level. He yelped in pain and shock, while Q hummed briefly under his breath.

The third one was at groin height. It was really quite lucky that Bond had understood in time.

009 buggered off pretty quickly after that.

“Thank you, double-oh seven.”

Bond smiled, the strange sideways one he used when actually being honest. “It was all you, Q. Nice job, by the way. What was it?”

Q’s grin was all teeth. “Exploding pen,” he said brightly. Bond’s eyes widened. “Kidding. Exploding watch. A different prototype. Like it?”

“Bit ostentatious.”

“I’d imagine you love it, then,” Q continued, back to smiling honestly. “Tea?”

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Teehee :D Jen.

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Q was knotted into his office chair in such a way that not a single limb extended over the edges of said chair, feet somewhere close to his face and knees non-existent, back arched over, and Bond was convinced it couldn’t be comfortable.

“… Q?”

The Quartermaster glanced up, and looked at Bond with vague confusion. “You’re back.”

“As expected.”

“But you’re on time,” Q managed, blinking. “Well. Hello, double-oh seven. Congratulations on a successful mission.”

“How are you doing that?”

Q looked at Bond, followed his gaze to himself. “What?”

“You’re barely occupying space.”

“A talent of mine,” Q shrugged. “I’m extremely good at making myself fit into anything. Stowing away in the backs of cars is a personal favourite, although really, most places will do. I actually find it rather comfortable.”

Bond nodded with vague distrust. It seemed strange. “So…”

“If you think about it, fitting things into odd places is more or less my job,” Q pointed out. “Your pen, for example. Lots and lots of components fit perfectly into a pen which can kill people in at least three ways, and that’s without creativity.”

Bond couldn’t help the beginnings of a smirk. “So you… you spend your life fitting things into things?”

Q glanced up, horrified to realise that he was blushing ferociously. “No. I mean, it’s some of the job but it’s obviously not everything, I do a lot of other important things but these are pet projects and…”

Bond put his hands up in a placatory gesture. “It’s fine,” he told Q calmly. “I get it. Just thought you may enjoy some extracurricular fitting-things-into-things…”

“Get out of my office,” Q whined, head falling into his hands. “Good god. I shouldn’t be allowed to talk. Ever.”

Bond was trying very hard not to outright snort with laughter. “It’s okay Q, I promise,” he managed, suppressing his smirk very badly. “Just a suggestion.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“I’m actually just seducing you, but you can take it as mocking if you like…”

Q’s head perked up again. “Come again?”

“I’m seducing you. Dinner?”

Bond had never seen Q look quite so bemused. “Well… that would be nice…” he began uncertainly, “but on the proviso that the things-fitting thing you’ve adopted is put to one side as the worst chat-up line in the Western world.”

“Deal,” Bond grinned. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Seven,” Q contradicted. “I’m hungry.”