galumphing through life

"We have one task for you all today." Greenway stood in front of the group, a lengthy course set up behind him that undoubtedly would be the rough playing field the recruits would be stuck in for the next however many hours; James was listening in from the back of the crowd with Monroe and Cress, who shared his intrigue for the upcoming task. "And that, is to retrieve the flag on that post from _____." He pointed to the small tower settled in the very back of the course, the red flag flying in the wind high up on a pole that was dutifully guarded by a sniper. James didn't know much about ____, he hadn't really spoken to him much, or found the chance to. But what he had heard from the others, is that _____ was one ruthlessly accurate shooter. He didn't look much like one, but James supposed that was rather the perfect ploy.

"Seriously?" A voice scoffed from the front; Bradly, to be assumed, who always had something to complain about when it came to training. "_____ is a fucking crazy shot. That's gonna be impossible."

"And you think the ones trying to kill you out in the field won't be? They won't go easy on you, and neither will he. These bullets may be fake, but you better act like they're bloody real." Said Greenway sternly. "But I suppose we know who's going in first now. Everybody else, form a line, wait your turn." He then waved over to _____, who waved back, ready and waiting as the game begun.

James hadn't even moved from the back of the group yet when a shot was fired.

"Your out, Bradly."

Bradly groaned. "I wasn't—I didn't even—how's that fair—!"

"Doesn't matter what's 'fair'. Your dead. Anyone who lasts longer than he did gets a second try."

"Aye, you'll get 'em next time, mate." Monroe patted Bradly on the shoulder as he walked passed, leaning in to whisper to James then: "Bet we'll get that flag in no time. You just watch."

And watch he did; turn after turn, each trainee failed. No matter what way they turned, _____ seemed to know their moves before they even made them, taking them down by one seemingly unavoidable shot. Monroe didn't have any luck, now sat grumbling to himself. Cressida had the longest time so far staying 'alive', but was ultimately caught too. Now, it had been James's turn. The timer started and he dove into a tall patch of grass for cover, trying to think of a play to get that flag that hadn't already been tried. He managed to keep covered and evade for a few minutes, almost as long as Cressida—but during a spring of over confidence he took a hit to the shoulder. He was able to try again, but the same thing happened.

The next day, given the same task, was an exact repeat; though now each recruit was given unlimited chances, if they were determined enough to do so. James watched once more as everyone still failed, giving up after just the third or fourth attempt—but James himself? He couldn't quite walk away so easily from the challenge. He went again, again, again and again, still finding himself in defeat up against _____. Victory, however, he didn't believe to be unachievable. That was how he found himself that same night sneaking into places he shouldn't be snooping along with Monroe.

"Have you ever talked to _____?" James asked as he was digging around in boxes that had all sorts of files and papers inside them, eventually finding the one that had all the recruits personnel files, that they certainly weren't supposed to be reading for themselves. Though it wasn't James's own that he was looking for.

"Nah. Maybe over lunch once, can't really remember." Monroe said, keeping an eye out the office window. "Why are so interested in this bloke now anyway? What's a file gonna do to help you pass the class?"

"I want to know who I'm up against. There's yours, if you want." He tossed his onto the desk and Monroe scooped it up right away. James kept sifting through until he found _____'s, his eyes skimming over the papers, whistling in sight of the undoubtedly impressive score _____ had ranked up as an overall top student, who—to James's surprise—had already graduated. "He's passed training?"

"Oh, yeah. That sniper group was already here even before us. They were just finishing off their advanced classes when me and Cress got here—-I even got to see them try taking each other down on boats one time." Monroe told him, leaning up against the door while flipping through his own file. "Now they just stop by sometimes to pick at us until we all move on out of this place. _____'s really the only one who sticks around, though. Sometimes I spot him working out or brushing up on the courses."

"Says he was kicked out of schools for picking fights…"

"Pfft, really? Never seen the guy get into one here."

"Just an old habit?" James kept on flipping through, finding himself more curious about ______ than he probably should have; he glanced passed the word deceased under both _____'s parents names and skipped that particular page. He then read out a note that stood out: "Loyalty absolute, instincts top notch. Confidence below average, performance above expectations…"

"That's a mouth full. Mine just says still needs work. Come on!" Monroe tossed his file away.

"Right, well, we aren't out running, or gunning him. I know what to do." James started to put back all the scattered files.

"Take his gun before classes start?"

"Not exactly. We… have to shake up the rules of the game."

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Greenway waved from the front of the course and you got into position high up on your post, the last recruit, the ever determined James Bond, delving back into the challenge. You were surprised by his stubbornness in not giving up, but just as intrigued by it, honestly—wanting to see him succeed. You watched as he took cover upon entering, taking a familiar path he had before, gaining in closer to your post and reaching the spot where a gun lay up from grabs; usually the spot he was caught in leaving, not even getting a chance to take a shot of his own. You waited for that predictable movement, your crosshair landing on a shift in the patches of grass to your right. In that split second your attention was drawn, a shot from down below was fired, but not at you; you flinched as bullets hit the flag pole, sending the flag itself off it's hooks and blowing forward, taken by the wind. You went back to your search, not spotting Bond anywhere visible on the course. Not until the flag floated all the way down and he came out from hiding to snatch it. You sat back, a smile working up on your lips; it seems that you, had just met your match.

Later that afternoon you found Bond outside, leaning against a wall ledge that overlooked the ocean. You walked up to join him, taking the chance to talk. "Hey. That was good, what you did today. How'd you think of that?"

"I stayed up all night thinking about it. Then, I thought—well, why not spare the trouble and have the flag come to me instead? Honestly, I wasn't that sure it was even going to work until it happened." He said, balancing what looked to be a playing card in the cracks of the ledge.

"That was a slim chance, for sure."

"I work best with those odds. But I do have to commend you for your work, too. I don't suppose you could teach me to shoot like that?" He leaned in a bit closer then, just for the both of you to hear. "If your going to be around, of course."

"Well, I might just be around the range course tomorrow morning." You said.

"I do believe I'm free that morning, as it happens. Maybe I'll—"

"James." It was Cressida Bright who suddenly passed by then, holding up a pair of keys. "Don't forget, your still on driving duty in five. Meet you down there."

"Suppose we'll catch up later, then." James flashed you a smile and you nodded. He was already gone by the time you noticed the playing card he'd forgotten behind; under of acorns. You picked it up in hopes of returning it to it's owner the next time you met.

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You looked down to the card in your hands as you sat on the bus, the other few passengers around you quiet as you were left with small, fond memories; James had let you keep it after you met up for target practice in Malta, as a memento for your unexpected friendship. You had always kept it with you ever since. You hadn't seen James for awhile recently, only occasionally catching him when you were both in around MI6. But even then, that wasn't very often. He had just called you earlier in the night, having returned with Greenway from Aleph; you didn't know all the details, but you heard it had to do with the tricky search for 009—whatever they found there unknown to you. You wouldn't bother James for it, you could hear his exhaustion slipping through over the phone as he said he 'just wanted to see a friendly face'. Having been in the area, you hardly hesitated to catch a ride to his place, the flat itself heavily quiet the moment you stepped through the door.

"Just you here? Are you and Cressida not…?" You asked. You knew he, she and Monroe had been living together, much like you and your own flatmates. But the place lost a light you could feel was once there before, not quite a comforting home any longer. You weren't there during the hotel attack in Slovakia, having been busy with your own tasks at the time leagues away, but you were there at Monroe's funeral.

"She… couldn't handle staying here, left a note. I don't blame her for… wanting a change of scenery." James said as you followed him into the kitchen, offering you up something to drink from what was still laying around. You just went for some water, not wanting to test the lukewarm cans of soda. "I suppose I'll be looking into getting a new place for myself, I don't have much use for all this space on my own. What about you? Still living with your old roommates?"

"For now. They're both wanting to get out. Not just from the apartment, but the whole program… I'm starting to think they were cut and just won't say it. They're alright lads who get the job done, but we weren't ever really friends. Not like you and—yeah… I guess I'll be asking for a new place too, soon."

"Well, maybe we'll be neighbors." Said James; you weren't so opposed to the idea. "But, make yourself comfortable. You can stay as long—or little, as you'd like. Things are a bit scattered around here, I haven't been back since… everything. Bathrooms down the hall, and there's… TV. Not even sure if we still get service for that. Or we can just… talk."

"I don't mind talking. I'll just—bathroom, yeah. I'll be right back." You found your way down the hall and took a stop there, coming back out and taking a detour into one of the bedrooms that was open, figuring it was his as James was looking around inside. You stood by the nightstand next to the bed, something immediately catching your that sat on top of it; a photograph. You picked it up, looking at it closer, the warmth of the image palpable. There was a woman and a man and a young boy playing cards by a homely fire, a family. The woman's face was turned from view, but the man looked just like James. You put it down once you saw that James had noticed. "Sorry."

"No harm done, it's a good photo. I never quite liked standing still for pictures as a kid, but… now I wish I had more of them." He picked up the photo, sitting down on the side of the bed, smiling fondly at it—at what was.

"I lost mine, too. My parents." You sat down next to him. James looked back up at you, surprised by your confession. "I was young, grew up in the middle of the slums in London… my father got killed in a robbery, and my mother—well, she couldn't take things anymore and overdosed. After that I was in and out of boarding schools all the time, it just… didn't work out for me. I didn't know if anything would work out. Or get better. I felt like…" You gestured around the air, not knowing what word you were looking for.

"Lost?" James guessed.

"Yeah, honestly."

"You get used to a certain way of life, and then it's all changed… so fast so you can't even get your footing. Almost feels like you aren't in control of your own life anymore, just sort of… swinging by each day." He said; a truth you could share having experienced. "Well, whatever it was that had you walking into MI6, and my… literal falling into their radar, I'm glad it gave us the chance to meet. I haven't had that many friends for this long till recently, believe it or not. This is a new personal record." You both quietly chuckled.

You put a hand on his shoulder, James smiling to you in return. The room fell back to it's stark quietness, but not so much the same bleak silence it had around it before, instead becoming something softer; a comfortable silence, as you both looked to each other, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time floating back up inside you, the comfortable silence eventually becoming anticipatory. Though, what you expected, still seemed to be uncertain to you both. Your hand stayed, watching as James's eyes glanced over you, all of you, your heart beginning to run. It felt like a flickering light between you both, unsure if it should stay on or fade back away. You were getting curious to know what it would be like to have that light on, as James leaned in closer, the space between you becoming smaller inch by inch. His hand had only just brushed against yours, as then you heard the sound of something loud falling and thumping onto the floor down the hall.

Your brows furrowed in response, and James could only shrug back, the silence following the sound unsettling, intentional. You both knew then you weren't the only ones in the house any longer.

Slowly creeping out from the room, you split up—James heading down the hall to the rest of the place, and you checking in right nearby in the bathroom. It looked as empty as it had been before, till you were grabbed from behind, arms wrapping around your neck. You rammed yourself and the intruder backwards into the wall, the crash hard enough on him for his grip to loosen and for you to slip out. Now face-to-face, the masked stranger charged for you again, the both of you tossing each other around until you managed to trip him over the bathtub, having hit his head on the floor on the fall back down and taking him out. You rushed down the hall, having heard more commotion and finding James holding another assassin against the wall: "I'll ask again, who do you work for?"

"Take the shot!" The assassin croaked.

A laser light landed on James from somewhere out the windows, but he was quick in reaction, the assassin taking the bullet instead as he pulled him in front of him. The windows shattered as more shots were fired, the both of you ducking for cover behind some furniture, the living room quickly becoming a total wreck. "Bloody hell! Don't suppose you brought your own fancy toy?" James asked.

You shook your head; it's not like you were allowed to carry a bolt-action on the bus any given night. All you and James were left with were your Q-Watches and the chance to run. You left out the balcony and down onto the rooftops, the shooter across the way holed up on top of another building by a construction crane. The assassins shots were sloppy—(at least to you)—and hasty, clear enough that they wanted one of you dead but didn't have the patience to wait for a promising enough opening. That, and maybe James had taken some notes about dodging bullets from your class after all.

Both of you made it across the rooftops, the assassin on the other side, and right next to you both—the crane. You and James only needed to look at each other to know you both had the same bad idea. You each darted and jumped for it, climbing up the ladder and getting inside the control room. James hit a bunch of the buttons at random, managing to steer it and get it to move above the assassin, making a treacherous path for you to both climb up further onto. You ran across the top of the crane, the wires holding it up snapping and breaking from the shooter and causing it to fall, and you both along with it. You slipped down from the crash, getting back on your feet, the assassin just as staggered dropping his gun. "You!" James called; you recognized the man, too. It was one of the Murto twins. This was your first live encounter with them, but you had read their striking file once before.

Murto fled, and the chase continued. He made the short jump across the buildings, but when James tried to do the same he only just managed to grab onto the edge, just barely able to pull himself up. You didn't have room to try the jump yourself, watching as Murto stood over him and kicked him off and down the roof, only giving you a smug grin as he walked away. You backed up, gearing yourself for the jump, but not making it either as you slipped on the broken roof tiles, catching yourself and hanging onto the gutter. You looked down and saw James hanging onto something else underneath you closer to the ground, sighing in relief. You both managed to drop down into the alleyway without too crushing of a fall, brushing yourselves off and pushing yourselves back up on your feet. James activated his earpiece, Moneypenny's voice connecting and coming in through your own.

She didn't sound too pleased. "James, this had better be—"

"It is. Someone just tried to kill us."

"Us? Who's—?"

"______'s with me."

"I was… in the neighborhood." You said.

"Our tea-time was interrupted. At my apartment. I got his phone, I need you to trace a text." James said, the both of you staggering down the alleyway, neither of you ready to give up the chase just yet.

"What? I can't. I'm… well, I'm on a date." Moneypenny told you. "And your suspended, James. You'll need to report this is HQ, go through the proper channels—"

"It's the twins, we don't have time for protocol. If I lose the trail, we'll never know who they're working for. Please, Moneypenny."

Though you could hear and imagine her reluctance, Moneypenny was going to help you, date inconveniences regardless. She had found a location for you two, tracking Murto's phone all the way to the 125th Webb Industries Anniversary Gala, the signal coming in from one of the museum exhibits; it had sounded like the perfect place to hide yourself among the crowd. "If Webb is a target, we can't sit on this. I need to issue an alert." Moneypenny warned as the two of you crossed the street, heading up toward the entrance.

"Don't. He'll only slip away again… we need time." James said.

"Moneypenny, can you contact Q and ask if it's done yet?" You asked her.

"Ask him what? What's it?"

"He'll understand. Just—check for me, please?"

You heard her sigh. "Alright. Both of you be quick about this."

"It? That sounds ominous." James raised a brow to you.

"Just a… bit of an upgrade to my gun." You shrugged, now waltzing on up into the event. You and Q and some of the others in the lab had been tweaking things for some time, making a better sniper rifle to suit your needs and tasks, but with some added Q-Lab flare and perks alongside it. You hadn't known if you might need it, depending on where the night was about to take you—but you figured it wouldn't hurt to check.

After quietly snagging some press badges for yourselves from individually unsuspecting would-have-been guests, you entered the grand main room of the gala, the space as elegant and prosperous as the Webb name itself. The two of you split up to cover more ground faster on each side of the branching rooms, unable to get a fixed place on the signal, till James pinged you from wherever he was: "He binned the phone in the bathroom. But… CCTV might have caught him. Moneypenny, if I access the camera feed, can you locate him?"

"You'd have to patch me directly into the CCTV network terminal. Go to the security room, it's… first floor, east wing, staff offices."

"Got it. _____, will you watch the perimeter down here? Wouldn't want him trying to make a break for it if we're both occupied elsewhere."

"On it. Keep me updated, yeah?" You said.

You could picture the smile on James's face as he spoke. "You will be hearing every minute detail."

You kept a circling patrol around the bottom floor for some time as James worked on getting into the CCTV room, keeping yourself up as a casual guest, 'perusing' the exhibits, or admiring the art on the walls by the exits. You had lost count of your current round, watching around by the bar stand when James patched through with some promising news. "Found him, he's down in the basement archives. Heading there now—"

"Enjoying the party?" A man sauntered up to you then, an easy-going smile on his lips. He looked familiar to you, though you couldn't quite place exactly why; had you known each other from somewhere?

"Oh, yeah. Yes. It's… impressive." You nodded.

"Yes, well, my father likes to have nothing less than that. As you can see."

Father. The familiarity clicked for you then; the man was Nicolas Webbs son. You had a vague memory of seeing them on some magazine once and skimming through the article that talked about Webb Industries 'future forwarding technology'. This man's name was lost to you, though you pretend to know exactly who he was.

"And who is it you write for? I don't believe I caught your name, either."

You remembered the press badge hanging from your shirt and the story that had to come along with it; in truth, James had always been better than you at this whole 'bluffing' thing, his confidence coming naturally, while you had to pull yours out. Still, you put on your best poker face. "Craig… Brosnan. I'm an independent journalist."

"Ah, I see. Well, I have the time for a few minutes…" Webb leaned in closer, resting and arm against the counter. "What do you say I offer you the chance for an exclusive interview? Could be just the two of us, drinks on the house."

"I'm in the basement, he's—" James was cut off by the sound of gunfire, the rest of what you could hear a jumbled mess; you had to get down there.

"That would be… great. I'll swing back, I've got to go find my mate, I… haven't seen him in awhile. You can really get lost around here." You said, starting to back away.

Webb seemed convinced enough, though still asked: "Your sure you wouldn't like a drink for the road?"

"Thanks, but I'm good." You waved him off, escaping the conversation at last; you wondered why Webb even approached you in the first place and was so keen on conversation, left to think that it wasn't just an interview he wanted. But you could think more about that later. "James? What's going on?" You got no reply. "Moneypenny, how do I get down to the basement from here?"

"Let me see. But you might not make it in time." She said.

"I can make it."

As you shifted through the crowd, however, from the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of a security guard following your path as soon as you walked by. Another joined moments after, the two of them not so subtly trailing you and the timing far too coincidental; had the Webb's been connected to the Murto's and caught onto you and James already? Either that, or Webb's son took rejection quite poorly. You were forced to take a detour into the restroom, taking the time to wash your hands at the sink, the security standing behind you, waiting for the guest that was beside you to leave. The moment the door shut one of them approached you and put a forceful hand on your shoulder. "You'll be coming with us."

"I'll say it again, I'm good." You grabbed ahold of them, pulling them forward by the shirt and smashing their head into the mirror. The second guard was already on you the moment the first collapsed to the floor, holding you down against the sink counter. You kicked and pushed them back, sending them bumping into one of the electric hand dyers. You used your Q-Watch to send it on the fritz, making it burst stumble the guard enough to knock them out. You took one of their hand guns for yourself.

"Oh my God! " A man cried as he sprinted from the stall he was in and passed the scene out the door. You followed in his tracks back into the crowd before you could be seen.

Suddenly, James came back online, exclaiming: "It's Webb! The Murtos are working with—Nicolas bloody Webb… he's behind everything!"

"I just ran into some of their security." You pushed through the guests who were gathering closer up to the front stage in the center room, keeping your face pointed low as you spotted more guards begin to pop up among the crowd, now on alert. "James, they know we're here. Or they know something—"

"Then it isn't safe for you to be in there. We are in over our heads. We need to inform M!" Moneypenny said.

"No time. I'm going after him. Greenway's the next target, I heard it myself. We'll make him call off the attack. ______, are you still up there?" James asked.

"Yeah, but security's starting to fill up the place." You peered out to take a look, laying low over in the front entrance by the information desk, the room empty now that every guest had flooded to the main hall. "Something's happening at the stage, I might be able to get ahold of him if—"

"Are you both out of your mind? Nicolas Webb's one of the most powerful men in Britain…" Moneypenny warned. "Let's think this through."

"What about Murto's earpiece? If I patch you in, can you trace a second attack team?" James suggested instead.

"Hm… it does look like it's transmitting a geo-location signal to a device inside the building."

"It has to be Webb. He commands the assassins. Tell me you can hack it…"

Moneypenny scoffed. "From a bathroom stall at the Knight Errant? Not a chance. But I can use either of your watches as a data extraction tool. One of you just get close to Webb and I'll handle the rest. I only need a few minutes to update the software…"

"Keep an eye out for him, I'm heading back up." James said to you.

As you went to reply, you took a sudden and hard punch to the side of your face. You staggered into the wall, brushing the blood from your nose as you were greeted by three more of Webb's security. One charged for you and you dodged, chucking a nearby heavy (and expensive looking) flower vase at another, tackling them over the information desk. As you toppled them, another grabbed you by your shoulders and yanked you upwards, but as they did you swung your head back at their face, hitting them hard enough that it hurt you just the same. The person under you snatched a pair of scissors from one of the shelves in a last effort, you clutching their wrist and holding back the small blades from reaching you, as down the hall came the sound of applause and the echoing voice of Nicolas Webb from the stage. "Hello, hi… well, oh—welcome all!"

Your hand shook, the guard who's head had just clashed with yours wobbling back up, bending over for another grab and getting stabbed in the shoulder with the scissors instead as you let go and moved, both left to writhe on the floor in silence knowing none of you could make a peep and disturb the event.

"Tonight we celebrate the history of Webb Industries…"

Vaulting over and out of the desk, the last guard swung for you, missing the first few tries until they grabbed you by the back collar of your shirt and pushed you into a bench and a side table.

"But merely looking back would be… complacent. Personally, I prefer… to look ahead."

Hissing through you teeth and getting back up, as they grabbed your shoulders, you grabbed onto them.

"For more than a century, Webb Industries has pushed for a better, safer future…"

You kneed them in the stomach, holding down there head to do the same, knocking them out clean.

It was Moneypenny's voice who broke through Webb's then. "It's done, I've updated your watches. The hack starts automatically when you're within three feet of the target."

You nodded to yourself, sucking in a breath and brushing your shirt off. You started to head back down into the main hall to find James and see what you could do about getting this hacking done when—

"James? Talk to me! What's—?" Moneypenny came through again, suddenly panicked. "_____, he's not responding! Something's happened—"

"Heading there now!" You started to push your way through the crowd, getting near the front of the stage where Webb stood as quick as your bruised self could, though still not spotting James. You turned back, your eyes darting around the room, your heart thumping loud in your ears as across the room you saw an unconscious James being dragged out by more security. "They have him. I'm going to follow."

"Be careful. And don't act rashly, we can't target Webb unless we are certain he—"

"I know."

From a distance you followed them, ending up in a small exhibit still under construction that was being used as an impromptu interrogation room. You hid behind one of the large statues, having a clear view of the scene ahead of you as you carefully peered out; James had been woken back up, tied to a chair alongside a woman you didn't recognize, who sat unresponsive. Both the Webb's were already there, circling them like sharks. "How did you allow her to get this close? And what is he doing here? You know I handle MI6. Wasn't there two of them?" Sir Nicolas questioned.

"Already taken care of." His son said confidently; you had to scoff in response, sitting back out of view as a guard moved to stand watch. You continued to listen to their tense conversation. "But this one… they were onto us and I didn't think we had time for your back channelling."

"That is precisely the problem. You don't think."

"Careful—careful. You know how I get, father."

"Enough, Damien."

"Yes, well alas, there's no time to back-pedal now. The ball is rolling—I have a full strike team on Greenway. He is as good as dead."

"Fine. Now… clean up your mess." A pause from Sir Nicolas, then: "It needn't have come to this, and I'm truly sorry."

"It's only cold-blooded murder. Don't beat yourself up about it." James spoke up, sounding his usual wise-cracking self still.

Sir Nicolas left then by himself, unknowingly walking right passed you out one of the doors; you could follow him, catch him here and now—or see where he plans on going next. But you couldn't leave James. You wouldn't. Certainly not with this Damien, just based on what little you already knew and could assume about his character; it was clear enough he, or his father—wanted you both and this woman dead. And the Webb's didn't seem like the type to pull punches. "You know, your friend is smart." Damien started, though you could still only listen, the guard still standing by the wall that led into the next room. You wouldn't be able to sneak by him without drawing full attention to yourself. "He knows not to take drinks from strangers. It's a shame, I would have liked to speak with him more… oh well. What can you do?" What came after sounded like someone took a heavy hit; most undoubtedly James. "No witty remark? Not even the old 'you're never gonna get away with this'?"

"Tell me something, do you always bring sedatives to a party? I should count myself lucky I didn't wake up in your hotel room." James provoked. Your watch had begun to notice a signal coming from his, leaving you to wonder if James was trying to hack into Damien's phone in a second attempt. He continued to poke at him, a snide comment here, a fair question there, till a guard rushed through one of the doors passed you again and tried calmly getting Webb's attention.

He must have called 'sir' at least five times before Damien snapped at him: "What? What is it you want? Can't you see I'm busy!"

"The other agent, he's… gone. Five of our men are dead. He… might still be in the building. Sir."

There was a hard string of silence. "Still in the building?" Damien started to laugh, then he yelled: "Then find him and kill him instead of standing here like a dolt! Your all useless! Go! The rest of you… make them disappear."

Two of the security in the room fled at once, Damien leaving out another door and passing you by. The pair of security that stayed were walking up to James, their backs turned to you and giving you the perfect chance to jump. You took in a breath, hoovering a hand over the gun you took and sprung to your feet. You were unexpectedly beat to it, however. You stopped in your tracks, it was the woman; she took down the guards swiftly from behind within seconds. "Well… guess you didn't need me after all."

James's smile was bright as he saw you. "It's the thought that counts."

You went up to him, untying him from the chair. He certainly looked a bit battered, the both of you did. "You good?"

"I can take a few punches. And you…?" James gestured around your nose and face.

"I'll walk it off."

"A sweet reunion, but we'll have company soon." The woman interjected, heading around to check the doors, finding them to be locked. "I don't suppose you have an exit strategy?"

"This wasn't exactly a planned visit." James said. You noticed a sort of familiarity between the two of them as they interacted.

"You know her?" You asked.

"We've… met before. Bit of a story. Isola Vale. Isola this is—"

"Hardly the time for introductions, wouldn't you say? Now come help me up, there's a window here." Isola said, waiting for one of you to give her a boost. James did the honors and she was able to make it up. Your foot was already using James's shoulder as a step as you went to go, reaching to Isola for a helping hand that she turned down at the sound of incoming voices. "No time, someone's coming. Hide." She slipped out the window then and you fumbled down off of James, the two of you taking cover.

"She does that." James whispered to you.

Two more security sauntered into the room. "—You don't know the half of it. Management just issued a 'code white' back at the Perch. All hands on deck."

"An all-out data wipe… because of two guys?" The other said.

You and James eyed each other; a data wipe implied the Webb's had even more to keep under wraps.

"Somehow that makes it worse. Vince? Noel? You two just about done in there?" The guards walked over to the now empty interrogation room, while you and James made a break for it out the way they came in.

"What happened?" Moneypenny checked in.

"It isn't Sir Nicolas controlling the kill team, it's his lunatic son. We barely escaped. Tell me your plan worked…" James said, the two of you ending up in a workshop, the lights flickering on as you entered, also revealing that you weren't alone; more hostiles were arriving already.

"I'm processing… piggy-backing the signal. Tracing their coordinates… look, we find the kill team, we find Greenway. Where are you now?"

"We're just about to be swarmed by trigger-happy mercenaries. We need a way out of the museum."

"Already on it. According to the schematics, there's an old backlot behind the exhibits. Chances are the hostiles don't know about it." Moneypenny told you.

"Moneypenny, whoever this bloke is, he doesn't deserve you." James turned to you then, the hostiles gaining in closer. "You ready?"

You slipped out your gun. "I've been waiting for this all night."

after escaping the gala…

You held on tight as James drove the bin lorry straight through a buildings first floor, crashing passed the front doors and swerving onto the road, successfully ditching the rest of the hostiles and leaving the gala behind. "Now, where were we?" He flashed you a grin from the drivers seat.

"Christ, half of Kensington would've heard that…" Moneypenny said.

"Half of England heard it." You corrected.

It was a short drive to your next point, turning into an alleyway, the headlights catching who stood there; Greenway. He looked to have run into trouble of his own, but was very much still alive and kicking, even with an arm sling. "Thought I told you to go home." He said to James as you both hopped out of the truck, then turning to you. "And you don't even live around here."

"We both needed some fresh air." James said. You shrugged.

"Clearly." Greenway looked back at one of the dead, presumably hasty assassins that you also had the pleasure of meeting. "And did you figure out who's been trying to kill us?"

"Webb."

"So you understand what we have to do next."

"File a report..?" James assumed.

"Or a few." You added.

"We need… to make the first move."

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The Webb Industries building was a beast within itself, having to crane your neck just to see it's full size. You three were able to walk in right through the front door, Moneypenny having gotten clearance for you three as upper middle management. Where you needed to get was an impregnable, self-contained structure atop the main building, known as the Perch. Assumingly, where they store the data—the very data and evidence that Webb was looking to delete during this company wide 'code white'. After one troubling elevator ride with chief legal officer Roger Finch, a bit of climbing and scaling walls, nabbing keycards, opening some locked doors for Greenway, a trip through a maintenance vent and a quick tussle with one unsuspecting security guard—you three ended up on the second floor, each of you poking around the spread out space. "I'm curious, Greenway, what's your take on Sir Nicolas's dark secret?" James asked as he was looking at one of the wine bottles from a collection on a shelf.

"My guess? It's about his son. Can you imagine what it takes to keep Damien's criminal record clean? Hush money alone would feed a small nation." Greenway sighed. "I bet 009 found out about something. Figured it'd be his golden ticket back into MI6's good graces. So he had to die at all costs. See? Simple."

"Very."

"If 009 did find something, what was—is it? What's bad enough that they will do a full blown wipe-out like this?" You wondered aloud, your mind swarming with possibilities.

"A lot of things." Greenway said.

"Maybe they're covering up for the aliens." James joked, though Greenway didn't find it funny in the slightest. "Sorry. Just trying to… lighten the mood."

When you all reached down the hall, the door was—unsurprisingly—locked. Stumping you from moving any further once again. Greenway took a look at one of the floor plans hung on the wall. "Well, let's see… ok. I have an idea. But first, come and join me for a minute."

"Don't tell me the old pro needs a timeout."

"Tactical pause."

You, James and Greenway stood at the railing that overlooked a shallow pool with a large, leafless tree planted in the center, two slow running waterfalls behind it. You wondered if it had any intention, any meaning, or if it was just another extravagant art piece for Webb to have. "It's strange, don't you think? Sir Nicolas seemed genuinely sorry about what happened tonight."

"He liked you, Bond. But you got in his way. That's the world you're in now, the both of you. Half the job is doing something you'd rather not. Sooner you learn that, the better." Greenway told you, leaving you and James to talk among yourselves for a bit.

You both stayed quiet for some time, leaning against the railing, watching the waterfalls move. "Can I ask you something?" James spoke up. "Just a… thing, that's been on my mind. Thought I should get it off my chest before we're too busy."

You looked to him, your interest certainly peaked. "What is it?"

"Well, I've got myself in a bit of a fix. There's this… incredibly handsome and wonderful gent, who I've found myself fancying for quite some time. I'm just not so sure if he might fancy me the same way back. Bit hard to get a read on."

Your heartbeat started to quicken, the same air that had been around you in his flat suddenly stirring up again. You knew this was hardly the time or place to be having this conversation—if it was really going to happen. But you couldn't ignore it. "Have you asked him? Maybe… he feels the same way you do. Maybe, he isn't sure either if you… would really want him like that."

"I want him." James said without hesitation. Your hands brushed, having inched closer to each other without thinking. You went to say something when Greenway then returned back from his mid-mission stroll to clear the mind, his timing feeling intentionally unfortunate. You and James gave each other some space, having to leave behind your personal matters then and there, still left to lay between you. A flickering light that yet had the chance to stay on and show it's warmth.

You knew it was going to be a long night.

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A long night had quickly turned into long days.

After learning the crushing truth about THIEA, about operation Knightfall and 009's false accusations, you, James and Greenway had just barely escaped with your lives. Your findings, however, had not proven to be so lucrative in the end, and M was hardly pleased when she called in you and James. You three had been caught on the CCTV loud and clear, going rogue 'assaulting' Webb Industries and being accused of terrorism. You knew now just how well the Webb's could twist a story to fit whatever narrative they wanted, and the evidence throw against you did not bode well, arrest orders with your names on them already working through the system. You couldn't have botched this any worse had you tried, in M's own weighted words, but she was still willing to give you and James another chance. Or, order you to. Now you both were being sent on a black op to collect the proof you needed to bring down the Webb's.

And where you were headed? A luxury resort in Vietnam. An unsuspecting trip booked a year ago by two billionaire playboys Mr St. John Smythe (James) and Mr Reed Du'ar (You). Damien and his kill team would be headed to this same resort to 'correct' another one of THIEA's mistakes and make the story fit the way they wanted. Their exact target was unknown, which is where you and James came in to play for some good old fashioned spy work.

Before you left, you stopped by to see Q for some gear. You and James both had new suppressed pistols and a fresh gadget load out, but Q had one more thing for you in particular. "I would have gotten this to you sooner, but there was still some kinks to work out." Q brought over a large case, handing it to you; you already knew what it was. "You can't send a chef into the kitchen without his cutlery, can you? Ah, but, I'm afraid this is only permitted for emergencies." You opened up the case on the ground, whistling as you laid eyes on your brand new shining gun and all it's parts. You held it, the feel comfortable and suited just for how you liked it. "Meet Q-Labs new bolt-action sniper rifle, or, the Q-Sniper, for short. Lighter weight build for better transport, fixed for a capacity of ten rounds, increased range, precision scope, detachable silencer and easy to carry stock and bipod on your person. Two sized barrels for the choosing, an IR target laser that also just so happens to double as real laser, exactly like your gadget strap, with the push of a button. Oh, _____, press that square panel." You tapped a part of the gun, and at the very end of the back, a retractable blade popped out. "A last minute addition, in case you find yourself in close courters or out of ammunition."

"Q, I don't know how you do it." You said with awe.

"The stars the limit here. I'll have it sent to your location, along with another surprise."

"It looks good on you." James said to you.

It was time to show the Webb's you weren't going to let them win any longer.

At The Pearl, things were going smoothly for you and James. You had three potential targets to keep an eye on: Theresa Lorca, Ellis White, and Ramon Hernandez. You managed to plant bugs on each of them (including help from both your excellent new pair of Q-Trak glasses, the other gift from Q when you arrived) with relative ease, only running into a few hiccups; Sneaking into Ramon's villa as yoga instructors, having to listen to Ellis White speak, or charging in and right back out of Lorca's place thinking she was in danger, though she only had been doing a bit of mid-day free diving in the pool. Damien hadn't been set to arrive for some time, so now that your targets had been marked for safety, you and James had some time to kill and enjoy your own villa. Moneypenny may have not been so keen on you putting your guard down, but James had managed to convince you to take a breather and take in the pleasures of island life. At least for a bit.

You had been laying out by the pool, kicking back for a few minutes, though the humid heat had you going for the water fairly quickly in escape from it. You put on just your swim trunks and dunked into the pool, the cool water a relief. Looking out to the view of the ocean, letting your shoulders fall, you relaxed in the water, listening to the sounds of all sorts of birds and the shuffle of trees around you. The life of a '00-in-training certainly did have it's perks, from time to time. You got out from the pool just as James came down from upstairs in the villa. "Waters great, you should jump in." You patted your face down with a towel, glancing back up to see James staring at you a bit wide-eyed.

"I'll manage. Wouldn't want to ruin my hair on a good day." He said, looking you up from top to bottom and back, not exactly trying to hide his gaze. You remembered then his honest admission when you were in Webb Industries.

I want him.

Suddenly, you could feel that want right in front of you. It was undeniable—for both of you.

"What were you going to say before Greenway came back for an ill timed interruption? If you'll humor me for a moment."

A smile crept up on your lips, dropping the towel back on the lounge chair. "I didn't think we had time to talk about that right now."

"We have time." James stepped in closer, taking off his glasses and tossing them to the side table. Neither of you had to question it any longer; you met him halfway, your lips meeting with his, a relief and a rush all at the same time. James responded even more avidly, cupping the side of your neck, wanting you as close as you both could be, the water still dripping off from your skin soaking his clothes. Somewhere in the mix, you heard a startled Moneypenny over the comms, disconnecting from them entirely from you two. Your mind was already elsewhere by that point, you and James heading back inside the villa to do just a bit more of 'time killing'.

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"I can help with that." You stopped James in his tracks as he fumbled with where to start with his bowtie. Night had come and the two of you were getting ready for a snazzy party and Damien's ultimate arrival. James wore a well fitted white suit jacket and black trousers, and you the same with your preferred colors. You stood in front of him pulling and twisting the fabric, glancing up every now and then to see James smiling back at you as you did so.

"Who taught you how to fix-up bowties?" He wondered.

"Boarding school. I'd say I have more muscle memory from tying ties than I do on a trigger. You really never tied one at least once in school?"

"It's complicated."

"First times for everything. There, that won't budge all night." You finished up the tie. James stepped up to the mirror and took a look for himself, seeming quite pleased with your work.

"Well, one of you put on your glasses so I can see how you look." Moneypenny said. James put his on as he faced the mirror, before turning to you to show off your party ready garb. "Ooh, very dapper. Give us a twirl."

You shook your head and slowly spun around with your arms out for her to see. "Happy?"

"Very. Your turn, James."

"Piss off." He said with a lighthearted smile.

You felt around your pockets, the expected smoothness of the playing card you kept not there. "Hang on, I've just got to grab something before we leave." You started to look around the bedroom, unable to remember exactly where you might have dropped it off from the time between you getting in the pool and you and James coming back inside the villa stepping over your discarded clothes on the floor.

"So, what's your game plan?" Moneypenny asked.

"Fine dining and expensive champagne." Said James. You scoffed a laugh as you searched the pair of your trousers that you had been wearing earlier that day, though the card wasn't in those pockets either.

"Be serious. Damien and his men are on their way."

"We've got this. Once we're in the restaurant we'll get eyes on Ramon and Ellis and Lorca, keep tabs on their movements. We won't—what is it exactly your looking for?" James came over to you as you were looking around the nightstand.

You sighed. "The playing card you gave me. I had it on me when we were bugging everyone, where…"

"You still have that?"

"I keep it on me most of the time, sort of like a… good luck charm. I know it's just a card, but it's—"

"Guys, I think you need to get to the Emperor Villa. Now. Lorca's heart rate's through the roof." Moneypenny suddenly interjected, sounding spooked. "Listen, she's not alone—Ellis White is with her. You don't think…?"

"No, I don't. Something's wrong." Said James.

You nodded, having the same gut feeling and pulling out your gun case from underneath the bed. "What's the location on Damien? Are they already—?"

"Looks like they've stopped… pulling up nearby CCTV to get a better look." There was a hard pause from Moneypenny as you were already on your feet down the stairs and out your villa, James following at your side. "Shit. It's not Damien. I've been tracking the wrong SUVs." That was enough to have you both sprinting right through the party entrance and along the swerving trails until you reached the front of the Emperor Villa, the doors shut and the place far too quiet for either of your liking. SUVs were parked out and left behind , proving the worst; they were already here. "Go! Find us a way in." You told James as you swiftly started to prepare yourself and your Q-Sniper for it's first night out. You were ready within seconds, having to climb up some rocks that lead up to a ledge that dropped down into the villa, finding James below, who had already handled two hostiles that were there. "I'll cover you."

James nodded.

Moneypenny had told you of an entrance through the roof, and from behind you made James a clear path easily, getting through the spaced out hostiles around the bottom of the villa without anyone hearing a thing with your new silencer. The both of you took down one each at the same time as you made it to the side stairs, rushing up to the roof, where there crouched down you spotted Damien and Murto and their crew. James, and therefore Moneypenny, was catching it all with his glasses; Murto was holding Lorca as Ellis was brought in by another and shoved into the mix onto the ground. "No, no—what's this? What's the American doing here?" Asked Damien.

"Came 'round looking for a booty call. Didn't go the way he'd hoped."

"He doesn't fit the narrative. The real Caliban never allowed for collateral damage."

The operative shrugged to him. "Nobody's perfect."

"How many times? My father is adamant that the validity of THEIA's conclusion is not questioned." Damien walked up to the operative, his tone biting and demeaning. "Are you dumb? Look at me—are you an idiot?" The operative had no response. "You make him disappear, alright? The boys in ops will patch up the loose ends. Go!"

The operative picked up Ellis off the floor and rushed him off somewhere.

"And Niko, bring Lorca to the sight. I think it's time we set things in motion."

The three left then, unknowing of just what you had caught. "Tell me you got that." Asked James.

"Oh, I got it all right."

"Will it be enough?"

"It'll have to be. Now, go get the girl."

"Not yet, they'll kill Ellis."

"You can't save them all." Moneypenny said bluntly. "There's only two of you."

"And that's enough." You pulled back the bolt handle on your gun, sending your words off with a click. "Go get Lorca. I'll find Ellis and take care of the rest of the party here."

James placed a hand to your arm, you placing your hand over his, a promising touch that you would come back to each other. James headed back for the stairs while you carefully dropped down from the ceiling into the villa, the place swarmed with even more hostiles. Though, they were little trouble to you. You had them dropping like flies, none of them getting the chance to warn another about your presence as you made your way down the floors and to the basement. You reached the room where Ellis was being held, kicking the door open and surprising the two hostiles inside. Once they were down you went up to Ellis and checked his pulse; still alive. You turned around, looking out the open shutter windows, fireworks flashing up from boats on the water and into the air. "James, Ellis and the villa are secure. What's your—?" Suddenly, a wine bottle was lazily thunked against the back of your head, not exactly succeeding in it's efforts to injure you.

Ellis stood with the bottle still in hand, wobbly, but ready for another attack. "Du'ar? You're with them?!"

"I'm not—" Ellis swung at you again. "—with them! Quit it, I just came to—"

"What the hell have you done with Theresa!" Ellis came at you, fists raised and ready to put up whatever fight he thought he was in. You only had to hit him once before he was knocked out again.

"Now he's secure…" You sighed to yourself. "James? Are you—?"

But it wasn't James's voice that came through. It was Damien. "Oh, I'm afraid James can't come to the phone. Shall I give him a message for you?"

"You motherfucking—!"

"Well, there's no need to be rude. I'm only paying you back. You killed so many of my men, it's only fair I rid MI6 of a few of their pests, starting with your bothersome partner here. Don't worry, I'll be making sure it's slow."

Damien left the comms and you were heading out the open shutters back outside. "Moneypenny!"

"I heard. I can still see through his glasses, they're taking him somewhere. Getting you a signal on his watch." She said.

Within seconds you had a tracking signal coming from his watch. Now all you had to do was get there and find him.

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You watched through your scope as James woke up tied down to a stone slab, one overly large chainsaw at the end of it by his feet, ready to—quite literally—split him in half; the Webb's really did have a habit for the over dramatic, even when murdering someone. He and Damien spoke for a bit, perhaps James trying to convince him to stop in a very last ditch effort, but it didn't matter what he said. As soon as Damien flipped the switch for the saw, you shot it down, his men following right after. Damien himself fled the moment your fire rained on them, but not leaving without a hit to his arm as a warning of what was to come. "Nice of you to join the party. Your a bit late." James chuckled, looking around to try and see where exactly you were.

"I'd say I'm right on time. Don't move." You shot the first strap around James's chest off, letting him snap off the other at his legs, though he was still handcuffed as he ducked behind the stone for cover. You saw from your perch as dozens of hostiles flooded the area; it looked like it was time to test just how fast your draw really was. "We've got more coming in your way. But they won't be getting near you."

"I know they won't."

"Get through the quarry, I can meet you at the other end."

"It's a date."

James kept himself down low as he moved forward, marking some of the incoming hostiles for you to snag and clear a path for him, even getting to try out your laser by cutting down metal towers and concrete structures, making them fall and crash over groups of gun-men. You didn't let a single bullet touch James.

James was able to meet up with you at last and reach your position. You helped him out of his cuffs and got him a gun that a dropped hostile wouldn't be needing any longer. "Not bad." He said to you. "What do you say is next? I trust your call."

"Let's go show Damien what's what. He'll have nowhere to run anymore." You said. "I'll stay up high and we'll keep pushing through."

"I like the sound of that." James nodded, though before you could climb up to reach higher ground, he reached for your hand and had you stop. "One more thing." He stepped forward and kissed you. You grasped his shoulder, your breath hitching, surprised by the abrupt show of affection, but just as endeared. You pulled back from each other, heading in different directions, your confidence gaining a boost as you and James took care of the small army that Damien had brought along. Though, even with your sharp shooting, they just kept coming; you had found yourself getting pinned down and being shot at from all angles, barely given the chance to take up aim. Luckily, James had assured you he 'had an idea'. That idea, exactly? The biggest mining dump truck you had ever seen driving toward your rescue with him at the helm. You jumped onto the truck and James gunned it through the construction sight, plowing through just about everything until the truck came to a sudden stop. You went out the front to finish off more of the hostiles shooting your way while James fiddled with getting the thing moving again. It was chaotic, the hostiles fire not stopping for a second—but neither did yours in response. Finally, the truck got back to work, swerving further up until you had a place to stop.

You both hopped down from the truck, able to eventually lose the last hostiles trailing far off behind you, heading forward in pursuit of Damien; both you and James knew well you were walking into a trap, and it was what you were counting on.

Dropping down from a roof, James's stolen watch was laying on the ground. As he went to pick it up, James was grabbed from behind by Damien, who was wearing a golden mask and holding a knife to James's neck. You had your gun pointed toward Damien, but he was too closely using James as a shield to attempt a shot anywhere. "You both really are a thorn in my side. Why can't you just die?" James hissed through his teeth as the tip of the knife pressed firmer into his skin, drawing a bead of blood. "Give me the gun."

You stood still, your heart drumming loud, feeling the slightest shake in your hands.

"Do you think he'll do it, James? Or does he need a bit more encouragement?" He went to dig the knife in further and you handed him your gun rear end first. He held up the gun in a slack grasp with the bottom resting on the top of his leg, which had noticeably little protective padding underneath; you and James spared a silent glance. "That's a good boy. You can do something right."

"I know what it feels like." You said suddenly. "Your mother—she overdosed, didn't she?"

Your line hooked perfectly; you could see Damien's breathing become heavy as he forcefully clawed off his mask with his arm still around James. "What the hell did you just say?"

"Mine did too. I came home from school and watched them wheel her out of the house, already dead. Believe me, I know. I know what it's like to feel as if this is the only life left for you. You want the world to hurt, so damn bad… but it doesn't make you feel any better. Doesn't matter how many people you kill, it doesn't bring her back."

For a moment in time, you saw a glimpse of the shattered child that still lived inside Damien. Who maybe still lived inside you too. His hold on the knife lessened, sinking further away from James's neck. "What makes you think I don't want this? I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Save me the hero's speech. You think you can change me? Be the great savior, is that it?" He could only laugh, sounding strangely, honestly amused. "That's wonderful, really! Your hilarious!"

"You haven't heard the punchline yet." James hit the side of the Q-Sniper, triggering the retractable blade and piercing Damien's leg. Damien howled, both the knife and James dropping from his hold; James tore the gun away and tossed it to you, the second it was back in your hands firing a shot. And another, and another, until one landed passed Damien's armor. Damien staggered back, unable to speak as he looked between the two of you, a stain of red seeping through his clothes. He collapsed backwards into a stack of barrels and onto the ground.

Your shoulders fell, a wind of silence finally breezing through a continuously loud night.

You looked up at the brightening dark sky, then back to James. "Let's get out of here."

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"Attention, please, everyone." M stepped up on top of one of the desks, the frenzied groups of MI6 employees from every corner quieting down to listen. "Five minutes ago, Sir Nicolas Webb informed us that if we ignore his demands… the next leak will be be bigger, and a lot closer to present day. Meaning, that sources, assets, and even agents will be at risk. The diplomatic hit we have already taken is irreversibly detrimental to our national security, global interests, and Great Britain's standing in the world. Further jeopardizing that is not an option. It has been decided to accept Webb's demands, and grant him immunity."

Grant him immunity; the words stuck sourly in your ears. You glanced over to James at your side, who looked even less pleased than you.

"Giving in is not giving up! Quite the contrary: we do this to protect the country we all love. It's time to stand down. Thank you." M stepped off her podium, walking through the mumbling crowd and to you both with an easy-going smile. "Bond, _____, congratulations. Your performances in Vietnam proved beyond a doubt that you'll each make excellent 00's."

James stopped her from walking away. "What are you doing? We can't let Webb get away with this."

While you weren't usually one to question orders, this one didn't sit well with you either. "He's had control over everything for too long. This is exactly what he—"

"What we do is my call." M told you sternly. "The world's not fair. I thought Greenway would have taught you both that."

"M, we have to go. The Prime Minister's waiting." Stephan Bright swooped by then.

"Moneypenny will debrief you. Then go home and get some well-deserved rest." M said to you both.

Going home and sleeping it off hardly felt like the right call. You wouldn't be able to sleep knowing Webb had exactly what he wanted, that his narrative is the only one, and that he reigned victorious. Maybe Damien had been right to ask; why couldn't you just die. Why couldn't you just let it go as easily as the others, or understand the decision better like Moneypenny, to put your full trust in M, to leave it be and let it die. But you supposed that had never been you, had it? You hadn't ever let the light flicker out and allowed the dark to fill it, no matter what was thrown at you in your life.

That was how you and James found yourselves planning to go against everything you had been told and search out HYPERION, Webb's mirror computer to THIEA. You were about to rob Q-Lab—(you could see James's more reckless and occasionally downright foolish tendencies had rubbed off on you after all)—when down there you ran into Q and Greenway. The rest of the lab was empty all but for them, but they hadn't been there to question either of you; Q poured you all some drinks, and you sat down on one of the sofas for a short breather, feeling as if you hadn't done so in ages. Greenway came to sit down next to you at one point, just the two of you speaking. You hadn't seen him since the revelations about operation Knightfall, though he seemed to be fairing better than he was then. "You two remind me of myself and 00—Beckett." Greenway told you. "We were reckless, optimistic. Nothing was ever perfect, but we had each other. I took that for granted. You know exactly how hard this line of work can chew you up and spit you back out, it's good to have someone to pick you up."

With a sigh he got back to his feet, giving you one last nod. "Your a good man, _____. I'm proud of you."

You nodded back.

Greenway had a separate word with James before he and Q left, leaving the two of you to grab all the supplies that you needed for your self employed mission.

While you were shutting off all the lights and getting ready to leave, James had something between his fingers that he was handing toward you; a playing card. You cracked a smile as you took it. "You have another one?"

"I have a few, actually. Figured since you lost yours, I'd spare something from my collection. A memento for our… unexpected partnership?" He said.

"I'll make sure not to lose this one." You kept it tucked in your pocket for the time being, you and James getting inside the elevator. After a brief pause, James had looked as if he was about to say something more, but something began to crackle through your earpieces, a woman's voice; Isola Vale, you remembered.

"Hello, strangers."

"I wondered if you'd made it out alive." James replied.

"With the seven kinds of hell you pair raised, I practically walked out the front door."

"Why are you calling?" You couldn't help but jump to the point, or whatever one she had in mind; from the times you had come across her at the gala and in Webb Industries, you found yourself not quite being able to put your faith and trust in her as James had been doing. You always trusted your gut, but this time you weren't certain yet what it was trying to warn you about in regards to Isola and her agenda. You simply did not buy what she was selling. Though, maybe you weren't the target audience she was aiming for.

"We want the same thing. To get to Webb."

"Webb's finished, disgraced and on the run. What makes you think we care?" Said James.

"Please, don't kid a kidder. It's simple: you know where he is, I have the means to get us there."

You folded your arms over your chest, sparing James a glance that told him you were weary of what you were being offered. "And your saying we don't?"

"Nice try, but we all know you're about to burn all bridges. Besides, I already know he's somewhere in the Antarctic circle. So unless you plan to join a whaling crew, I'm your best shot. I pinned the location. We leave in twenty-four hours. Bring your trunks." She left the comms.

James looked to you. "Well, when one door closes…"

You sighed; if you wanted to finish things with Webb, this was looking to be you best—and only bet.

After infiltrating the Webb facility . . .

The doors retracted open, the tall, golden glowing machine right in front of you; you had done it, you and James had reached HYPERION.

Now all you had to do was remove the core and stop the leak.

It was almost too perfectly placed in front of you, proved by Sir Nicolas, who waltzed up across the other side of the machine, gun slackly pointed towards you. You had yours fixed on him; it took you quite the effort to smuggle it throughout the entire facility, so you hardly were going to let it go to waste. "Mr Bond… and Mr _____. Predictably unpredictable. Have you come for my other son?" He gestured to HYPERION, who, you could honestly assume he was more proud of creating than Damien.

"Maybe you'll actually care about this one." James pulled out his own gun.

Sir Nicolas raised a hand, showing off the band around his wrist. "Not so fast. Health monitoring device. Like all tech, it's purpose can be redirected… such as dumping every last bit of MI6 data the moment that my heart stops beating."

"We don't have to kill you to stop you."

"Go on then. Risk it." Sir Nicolas looked between the both of you. "Not so easy when you have so much to lose, is it?"

You looked to James, who stood still, focused on Webb till he dropped his aim at him. You still kept yours fixed, waiting for the slightest sign that Webb might try and make a move, and him the same to you; he knew James wouldn't put a bullet through his head, but he knew little about you in that regard. "Your very own magic mirror… it's clever, I'll give you that." James said. "Was overthrowing the government always part of the plan?"

"A last resort, nothing more."

"Doesn't look like one." You scoffed.

"I don't expect either of you to understand. And like a great man once said…never let a good crisis go to waste."

James shortly shrugged. "Happy to be of service."

"There is no flip side to the world I'm building. You think I'm a fiend… but make no mistake, the future will be grateful."

A shot was fired then. James looked at himself, then to you, as you looked to him and back to Webb and Webb glanced at you both; neither of you three had been the one to shoot. You turned around to see Isola at the door, who had been the one to fire at Webb.

"What the hell are you doing?" You hissed, now pointing your gun at her. "I knew we couldn't trust—!"

"You gave me your word!" James said as he was on floor by Webb's side, keeping his heart going.

"You really should know by now, James. My word means nothing. And put that away, _____." She waved a hand to you as she casually walked by.

"James—" You warned. You were going to shoot.

"Don't!" He cried; you didn't understand why, but you couldn't kill her. James himself was asking you not to. And you, for better or worse—trusted him with all you had.

Your nails dug into your gun, finally dropping your aim on Isola.

"Whatever happens… stop her. Don't let them have HYPERION." You heard Sir Nicolas mutter.

You slung your gun to your back. You wouldn't kill her, but you sure as hell could catch her. She snagged the core and made a break for it, you rushing right behind and jumping through the swiftly closing door. James had just barely done the same and nearly crashed into you. The chase was on.

You both hurried through, the building falling apart by the second, things crashing and blowing up all around you alongside rushes of panicked employees who were trying to escape the chaos just the same. Within the mess James was able to patch you both back to Moneypenny. "James, _____? Where are you? I've been trying to—!"

"We were right about HYPERION. Webb's dead. The leak was stopped, but Isola has escaped with the core. You need to send in the cavalry." James told her.

"I—… I'll do what I can."

"Should've had them ready!" You shouted, you and James jumping across broken platforms and gaps, passed fires and collapsing ceilings and wayward bullets, unable to catch up with Isola, who managed to keep staying ahead of you. Eventually, you dropped down back outside where Isola found herself a ride on a boat, and you your very own as well. You hopped into the drivers seat and took the steering wheel this time around, wasting no time speeding onto the water and following after her. You pushed through other boats who were chasing her, swerving around floating icebergs and explosive buoy mines until you both drove up on the ice where her getaway sub was waiting across the other side. You didn't wait a second to pull forward your gun and take a carefully placed shot at the core, flying it right out from her grasp. She didn't try getting it back, only sighing, sparing you a glance before looking to James. "Look at you… all housebroken. What a waste." She went to leave, but the sub was already sinking back into the ocean as two jets flew passed you through the air. She mustered a smile for a moment. "They won't take you two back, you know. You will rot in a cell and leave nothing behind but a blackened file."

You and James shared a look, before he tapped his earpiece. "This is Bond and ____. The threat is neutralized. We could use a ride."

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You leaned up against the wall off your cell back within MI6, arms crossed, tapping your fingers to your shoulder. It wasn't exactly the warm welcome you would have preferred, but going against direct orders and rogue had it's expected consequences. You and James had turned out to be neighbors in the end, at least.

You watched as M and an MI6 Examiner spoke outside, unable to hear what they were saying—or determining—when suddenly someone else came in to rush them out.

Only seconds later did the lights turn red, an alarm beginning to go off and the cell doors opening, abruptly freeing you, James and Isola. Neither of you could guess what any of it was about.

The door to the hall was slowly closing down. "Are you coming?" Isola wondered.

"Get out of my way!" A different voice down the opposite way shouted; there were hostiles breaching inside. You and James weren't going to be leaving.

"Give them hell." Isola said to you both before she slipped out the door.

You and James made your way to escape the cell block, stealthily taking down the first few hostiles to grab their guns off them and firing down the rest. After running into an injured woman, she told you of a red phone in the security room that you needed to get to to get word upstairs of the break-in; you and James managed to get through more hostiles, some without noticing you, some taking a hit by an imploding fire extinguisher. You reached the red phone, and it was M who answered. "Took you long enough."

"M! Listen to me—we've no part in this…" James started.

"No need. I just watched you take down a handful of intruders. I'm not sure what side you're on, but it's clearly not theirs… both of you need an earpiece. Those men you just fought were tuned into our frequency. Grab theirs, I'll update you on the way. And I'm reactivating your Q-Lens's. You'll need all the help you can get."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Later, at THEIA . . .

You and James were sprinting to reach THEIA and to find Moneypenny.

You loaded up another round in your Q-Sniper—(having once again been reunited with from your trip through Q-Lab)—as you went through the door, being greeted by four figures standing in front of THEIA.

One of them turned, and your heart plummeted, recognizing the golden mask he was clad in.

Damien.

"Oh, I was hoping that you'd try and save the day…" He said; Moneypenny was next to him at THEIA's console, looking between you and James with clear fear in her eyes. "What do you think?" Damien took a spin with his arms held out wide, now stuck within a bulky and oversized suit that made up for his lack in real strength, and was likely holding him together from his injures. "How do you like the new look?"

You clutched your gun tight. "I'd like it more with a bullet through your head, where I should've—!"

"Aw, come now, don't be upset. It almost makes me feel sorry for you." Damien stepped over and grabbed Moneypenny by the back of the neck then. You dropped your aim on him at once. "You've had quite the run, haven't you two?" Out from his pocket, he pulled out a lengthy, large knife, it's intent near Moneypenny clear; he wouldn't be fooled by your games this time around. "My father, dead. The truth, out…" He hoovered it over her neck, then pointed it to her stomach. "My legacy, my inheritance, all gone. All except for good old THEIA here. Luckily, I had a host of buyers already lined up, each one more unsavory than the last. And it's all thanks to you. How does it feel? How does it feel to really make a difference?"

Moneypenny was watching you both, waiting, dreading.

"It's all right. Do what he says." James assured; you nodded.

"Go on, do what they tell you." Damien pushed her back to the console, where she activated the core to be released, an operative taking it from her hands and giving it to Damien.

"Now go." You said sternly.

But Damien still had more to spew. "I'm told my father died in your arms. It's not fair, you know… " He turned around and stabbed Moneypenny once in the stomach. "You hogging all the fun."

Your gun hit the floor the moment Moneypenny did, you and James rushing straight to her. You couldn't stand to see Damien walk away again, but she was far more important than he ever would be. James had his hands pressed to the wound. "Don't move—I'm going to stabilize the bleeding—"

"James…. ______—you have to listen," She was grasping his arm, then your hand. "It… it just… it's…"

"Bond, _____!" It was Q who came.

"My God…" Greenway was directly behind him.

"She's bleeding out!" James told them, the panic in his voice nearly worsening your own.

Greenway got to his knees and took over holding the bleeding. "I've got her, Bond. It's all right"

"Damien's only escape is through the tunnels. I've slowed him down, but it's up to you to stop him." Said Q. "Whatever it takes. And have this—it's the master key to the lab. Unlocks the entire arsenal."

"No offense, Q, but we're going to need more than a man-eating couch." James bit back.

"We have the Valhalla! It's the only thing with enough firepower. Get the keys from my coat in Wearables and—"

"Go! You've wasted enough time here. Finish this." Greenway looked up to the both of you; that was an order.

You scooped back up your gun and left with James down a floor hatch.

Q-Lab was being ransacked, Damien and his men trying to pry and burn through the sealed doors to the tunnels, and the Valhalla right in front of you and James. "They're here! Cut them down!" Damien shouted as he spotted you getting in the car; you were in the drivers seat, though didn't have the slightest clue how the vehicle was supposed to work.

"Q, we have unwanted visitors." Valhalla spoke as you were being shot at.

"Yeah, we do! Anything we can do about that?" You asked.

"Certainly."

"Smoke screen… oil slick… sonic cannon…" James read off the options showing up on one of the screens. "Flamethrower! Activate flamethrower."

"Flamethrower not applicable."

"Come on!" You groaned. "Then what is? Give us something."

"Missiles are fully stocked."

"Do it."

"Arming missiles. Twelve percent complete. Stand by…"

Now James was the one to groan. "Activate machine guns!"

The guns pulled out from the sides at once. "Machine guns armed and ready to fire."

"Yes! Now we're talking!" James cheered. "You drive, I'll fire."

You clutched the wheel with a grin. You hit the gas and the car zoomed forward like a jet, swerving up to the hostiles to get James a better shot.

"Voice analysis complete. You are not Q. You are _____, _____. And Bond, James."

"You got us." James said, hitting an explosive barrel that sent a pack of hostiles flying.

"How did he die?"

"Q? He's fine. Why?"

"He said he would let James Bond drive me over his dead body."

You couldn't hold back a laugh as you spun the car around in a circle, accidentally crashing right through shelves and tables. None of the hostiles stood a chance, and soon they had all been gone. As well as the entire garage. You drove onto a platform that lifted the car up to some mechanical arms that sought to patch it. "I don't see Damien." James eyed around, but almost comically on cue, Damien burst through a door with something worryingly large in hand.

"That would be him."

"I'm starting to get real sick of this." You grumbled. "Should we be getting out of here?"

"Short of an ICBM, you're quite safe inside."

'Safe' was a bit hard to trust when Damien was pointing a huge missile launcher at you. You and James looked to each other, already bracing for impact. The missile hit the workings above you and sent Valhalla crashing to the floor, but—as previously assured—neither of you weren't hurt. "Shit, the door!" You tried budging it open just about every way, but there was no use in trying; it was stuck shut.

"I will raise a ticket with tech support."

"You're not helping." James sighed.

Damien strolled up to James's window, leaning down to look at you both. "Ooof… that is a nasty dent. I do hope you have insurance. Sit tight." He patted the roof. "The end is coming."

You watched in the side mirrors as he walked off, wondering why he didn't stay to make sure you were dead—as if it was like he wanted to keep this game going. He wanted to keep seeing you fail. "Damn it!" You hit the steering wheel, leaning back in your seat.

"Gotta be a way out of this wreck…" James was looking around.

"I resent that."

"Wait… activate ejector seat!"

"Activate what?" You sprung back up.

"Are you quite sure?"

"James!"

"Move over here!"

You shook your head as you quickly got out of your seat and crawled on top of James, feeling his hands grasp you tight as the drivers seat was sent springing right into the air only seconds later, blowing the door wide open and allowing you to escape and continue your pursuit on Damien through the tunnel.

This time was going to be last. You'd make sure of that.

Finally, you two had caught up to him again. "Good god, you must have a death wish. Well, I'm only happy to—"

You fired serval shots at Damien, but all of them proved useless against his armor. You looked to him then to James, the dread setting inside you.

Damien charged forward, grabbing ahold of you and your Q-Sniper, his grip crushing your wrists and sending your watch into an electrical frenzy as it came in contact with apart of his suit. "You'll need to pack more punch than that!" James tried moving up on him from behind, but was forcefully wacked away. Damien crashed his masked head to yours and kicked you back, sending you thumping into a pipe and scattering your gun across the floor. "Better run."

"Split up!" James shouted to you from the other side.

You jumped over the pipe and took cover, looking to your watch; your gadgets had been downed from whatever jamming tech Damien had on him. You had to find a way to shut it off, and quick. You stayed hidden and kept a cautious follow behind Damien until the hack into his suit was finished, making it pop like a fuse and getting both you and James's gadgets back online. You and James found each other and had somewhat of a plan; use the environment to keep cracking down on his suit, which is exactly what you accomplished.

After a final blow to his suit, you and James jumped for him as soon as you had the chance. Damien grabbed James's incoming fist and yours, the three of you pushing back and fighting for control. Damien's hold was too strong, however—weakening your grips and sending you slipping to the ground with another kick. You both rolled out of the way as he nearly plummeted on top of you, instead shattering right through the floor. You all fell down, surviving the crash; inside the underground you and James noticed the same thing planted high along the walls.

Bombs.

He was going to flood the tunnels. "Your trying to kill everyone!" You grimaced as you tried pushing yourself back to your feet.

"Bang on." You could picture the twisted grin on Damien's face under the mask. "There's enough water in this reservoir to turn MI6 underground into a fish tank! By the time they sort out what transpired… I'll be long gone." The floor rumbled under you as Damien got back up, aiming at you both, two sentry guns rising up at the same time to fire away; he really thought all this out well, you had to admit. You and James rushed for cover.

"Gotta find a way to damage him. And those guns should do it." James said.

"We'll go at either side, he can't shoot at us both." You replied.

Splitting up again, you each ran as fast as you could, dodging Damien's continuous bullets and making it to the turrets; you and James took control from either side of Damien, shooting until he finally dropped to the floor, a hole caved in his suit and sparks flying from it. He struggled to rip off his mask, now looking at you and James eye-to-eye as you walked up to him. But there was no defeat on his face; he held the detonator remote, waiting for you. "Aren't you going to stop me?"

James shook his head. "No need. Kill yourself just to get to us? You don't have it in you."

Damien's eyes fell between you two and the remote. "Oh… you've got me pegged." His suit flickered and twitched, but still had there been no remorse. "Truth is… you've set me free. I've never felt so alive."

"Best go out on a high then." James lifted his gun, but Damien pulled the trigger first.

There was an explosion, the platform bridge you were on collapsing in half. You scrambled to your feet, seeing James trapped underneath a fallen chunk of rubble he was trying to lift. You crawled over to help him heave it up, glancing back and forth to him and Damien, who was attempting to hobble away. "Stay down. All I gotta do is walk out the door… and I'm home free!" Once the block was off James, and you sprang to your feet. "Just… lie back and accept defeat. Nothing to be ashamed of. Lord knows you tri—" You charged at Damien from behind, trying to grab the core hanging from his back; he elbowed you in the face, stumbling back onto the floor and into James who was still laying, trying to muster more strength. "No! Why do you keep fighting?" Damien kicked you hard. "After all you've done for these people, they locked you up! You owe them nothing!" He grabbed you by your shoulders and had you pressed down against the railing.

James came in fast, tackling Damien from the side and getting him off you. Damien's attention shifted to him, holding him up by his neck until you attacked again. It was all happening too fast, and you found yourself be held by Damien from behind, his arms crushing around you, one thought in your head; finish this.

The last thing you saw was James reaching for you as you used all your weight to push yourself and Damien backwards and over the railing down into the water.

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You woke up with a panic coughing up water, your heart drumming a thousand miles. There was a gentle hand touching your back, and your anxiety started to quell as you saw James sitting next to you. "The—where… where's the… core? Damien—?"

"Dead." James nodded. "Isola pulled you out of the water. She left with the core."

"She got me—?" You couldn't finish your words, trying to catch your breath; you didn't know why Isola would take the time to save your life, but you supposed you didn't care anymore about the why's. You sighed, laying down on your back again. James joined you, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder; you felt his hand slip into yours, holding it firmly.

It was finished.

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"Who was that you were talking to at the service? The one wearing the cheetah print? Not quite the funeral attire you'd expect." James said as you both walked into MI6, the front entrance hall quiet as usual.

You scoffed. "I stopped listening after he said he was 'real good friends with Damien'. Daniel… something. I think he was trying to sell me a car from his father's company."

"I'm sure Webb will appreciate the commercial use over his grave."

"Back already, I see." Greenway was heading up to you both. "Good timing, I've got something for you two."

"A puppy?" James raised a brow.

"Better. For starters, I've gotten word straight from M that all charges against you have been dropped. Your lucky her and Bright were able to come to an agreement. And…" Out from his pocket he brought out a badge for you each. "001 and 2. You can work out who's who."

You held the badge between your fingers, finding it hard to believe that it was real, after so much time; you had become a 00.

"You should be the first." James looked to you then. "You were brought in before me. And, well, I was thinking since I was the seventh recruit…"

"It suits you." You told him.

"Well then, 001, 007… welcome aboard."

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The morning sun warmed your skin as it peaked through the blinds, nudging you awake, being greeted by the distant sounds of the busy city outside. You rolled over to your side in bed, the framed picture of you and James sitting somewhere in Malta looking back at you on the nightstand; you two had been caught off guard by whoever was holding the camera, but still managed to get your last second smiles in as it was taken. Your playing card sat snug in a corner of the frame.

You sighed and stretched your arms out, getting up out of bed and heading to the kitchen. James was standing at the island, reading something as he sipped his drink from his mug. What caught your eye, though, was him wearing one of your shirts. "I was looking for that." You went around to him and playfully tugged at the side of the shirt.

"I like it, it's comfortable." He shrugged. "Can I have the matching socks?"

"I'll give you both if you give me the missile pen."

"Right, keep the socks."

You noticed the colorful bouquet of flowers then, reaching over to read the little 'to & from' note attached around it. "Cressida?"

"A house warming gift." He handed you over the letter he had been reading, also from her. "She says she's doing better. Maybe even have us over for lunch, if the times right."

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

"Moneypenny phoned me herself earlier, too. Said she's approved for hospital leave. She also told me not to make a big deal out of it. Wasn't a fan of the balloons I sent."

"I told you she wouldn't like it."

"Party crackers it is instead, then."

James came over closer and wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and sparing a few kisses to your neck and cheek. You leaned back against him, closing your eyes, relishing the touch, the comfort, the understanding you had not known you had been wanting for so long.