It was a cut and dry mission. There was a sex trader who had information Bond needed, and thus came the raid. It would have its casualties he knew, but it never really bothered him much anymore. Nothing bothered him much anymore. M had insisted that he take back-up with him, saying they could kill two birds with one stone: get the information they needed and shut down a human trafficking ring. The thought was that of an idealist, saving people while hunting to save more. It bothered Bond quite more than he wanted to admit, the fact that the saving of women sold into slavery was inconsequential in his eyes. Perhaps his resent brush with death had not done as much good as M was hoping for. Vesper had been cold for nearly a year and a half now, after Quantum he'd gotten some closure, but no one truly found solace in a situation like his.
That morning he had found himself contently cleaning his favorite gun, and a twisted smile formed on his face: target practice.
That's what this raid really was for him. Putting more bodies and nameless faces on his high score, he hadn't had a good gun fight in a while; M had him on surveillance and undercover work mostly these days. The sheer violence was sorely missed, and this was a large compound, lots of warm bodies to make cold.
As he stood behind the firing line, waiting for the signal, his mind drifted to how he'd become such a monster. He was no novice in that regard, he knew himself and he knew a monster when he saw one. He'd killed a few in his day, would most likely kill more. More recently he had fought a battle with one every day, it began every morning, when his eyes met the reflection of the monster in his bathroom mirror. Anger boiled in him- unchecked rage that made his shoulders and hands shake.
She had done this to him. She had turned him into everything he had once fought against. She betrayed him and made him into a blind fool.
Perhaps that's why he had no joy over freeing these women. They were all the same- they took what they needed and left the shell of a good man behind. He never counted himself as a "good man" but he was sure as hell better before her than after her.
He heard the whistle, the signal the raid was about to begin. His brain diverted from his past and set forward to the iron clad door in the back of the compound. The mission came first, nothing else matter, no one else mattered. The door was quickly disposed of and the some odd twenty men rushed in with fervor, killing as they went. There were express instructions to leave the ring leader alive, or at least until 007 extracted the information he needed.
Gun out, eyes and ears open, the MI6 agent swiftly worked his way around the building. His bullets shot true every time as he mentally counted the number of bodies that hit the ground. Blood sprayed over walls and the gurgling of blood chocked death echoed in his ears. Briefly the question of whether he would be able to sleep tonight fluttered cross his mind, and in that moment he couldn't decide which to be worse: if he could or if he couldn't.
People scrambled in every direction, screams of men and women alike clouded the air and made it nearly impossible to focus clearly. Door by door he cleared the compound, no sign of his target anywhere.
As he came across one of the last hallways he heard a distinct sound emanating from just around the corner. A dull thud resounded over and over again accompanied with the incoherent rambling of a woman.
"Hold on!"
"Olive I think someone is coming!" a distinctively British voice followed by that of heavy Russian were discernible in the chaos.
"We can't leave them! We don't know whose here!"
"We have to go Olivi…" a shot interrupted the conversation and Bond took cover, leaning heavily on the wall, slowly turning his head to peer around the edge of the wall.
"Figures you would be the last one standing. Tell me, should I call my men to take care of the others? Attachments my dear, they pay a hefty price," the gritty voice belonged to that of Reginold Rominof, just the man Bond was looking for. The old Russian raised his hand, gun firmly grasped there, and looked with eyes of fire at the brunette who stood guard in front of a heavily fortified door.
"You gave me much more trouble than you were worth whore," A shot rang out. A body crumpled to the floor. It surprised both the woman and the agent when it was realized Rominof was lying cold on the cemented ground.
The brunette stood in shock and looked at the ground in horror. Two bodies lay motionless, that of the Rominof and of a young blond, no more than eighteen if he had to guess. Bond cleared the hallway, checking the man's pulse and cursed when he found none. The mission was blown, by his hand none the less. He had lectured and lectured those going in with him that no matter the situation; no one was to put the Russian down until he was thoroughly questioned. And yet, he lay dead and useless on the ground. Emotionless blue eyes met startled and fearful brown.
She was young, much too young to be in the middle of this, and it was at that moment Bond realized he had instinctively put Rominof down to save her life. The sigh was one of unchecked anger and irritation. She didn't move, simply started back at him with a listless expression.
"Help them. Please," her voice had lost all courage and strength it held only moments before, but her determination was steady. Her eyes diverted back to the door with a dirty window showing a mass of distinctively female bodies huddled together.
"Wait here," with those two words; Bond took off in the direction of the main hall. He knew someone would have something useful to open the door, and if he was honest with himself, he was going to be the one to do it. He had killed his single most promising lead to save that woman, and he'd be damned if it was a sacrifice in vain. Locating one of the men who carried the supplies, he procured a small and centralized pipe bomb. The device would easily slice through the rusted door. The walk wasn't a long one, and Bond made little effort to hurry. Most of the building had been cleared, and it was obvious that most of the men had been detained or put down; nothing but a couple fleeing stragglers. Now it was just the process of clean up.
Just as it was not ten minutes ago distinctive sounds were clear from the hallway in front of him but these sounded much more violent. A fist connecting with flesh and a female cry in response made Bond pick up speed, securing the bomb in a pocket of his cargo pants, he came around gun up just as the blood began to flow. Two shots, one to the heart and one to the head dealt with the mercenary efficiently.
A curse escaped the agent however when he spotted the very obvious protruding of a knife from the British woman. She swayed dangerously and Bond leapt forward to catch her. He lowered her gently to the ground, blood seeping through his fingers as he applied pressure to the newly acquired wound. Another of the raid teem rounded the corner and Bond shouted out orders for them to get a team together, call an ambulance and to open the 'god damn door.' His eyes then returned to the pure chocolate brown pools he had been trying to keep focused.
"Get them out," it was weak, an imploring tone that had the damaged man above her softening his gaze.
"We will. But you need to stay awake," he responded, also lowering his tone, trying to coax her into staying focused on him. She smiled softly at him, and when their eyes met again, he felt the very unique feeling of being seen. She looked at him like she knew him; like she saw the hurt he had been forcing down and bottling up for the last year.
"You're a good man," she said, lifting her hand up gently and placing it on his shoulder. Her eyes hardened a bit in sheer determination and her voice held the conviction he sorely lacked.
"Stay one."
So much inspiration from the great series by hybridbpv; Check out what amazing stuff is happening over there too. This will be a short comprising of one-shot type thingies! More to come and much more character development promise! I aim to escape Mary-Sues but Lord knows I might fail. R'nR