SPECTRE 2 -THE NEW FANFIC FROM CRAZYPERSON44 FEATURING BOND AND SWANN AS THEMSELVES. In a very much altered Craig universe of course.
The universe of 007 Legends, no doubt. My best guess. Craig's already done some of the Connery and Roger Moore missions, as well as some others, you get the drift, but not all of them of course. Still haven't decided why Zorin is alive, but he's just awesome you know? The song I would want for this is 007nside on YouTube.
List of Main Characters:
Bond: James Bond is cold, cunning, and efficient as an agent. However, he wants to retire, but can't. He is pulled back in when SPECTRE starts wreaking havoc again.
Swann: Swann doesn't want the life of a spy either, but like Bond is thrust back into it.
M: Gareth Malleroy resigned as M after some sort of incident with the Chief of Staff. It most likely involved coffee and classified documents.
This new M is much much older. Q suspects he is somewhat forgetful at times.
Max Zorin and Carlos Ramirez: A microchip mogul and a drug kingpin. They're the new leaders of SPECTRE...or are they?
Q: You know about him. Gadget guy.
Rea Salone: She says she works for Greek Intelligence...she says that yeah.
JW Pepper: A fat Louisiana sherrif who shows up now and then. He now has a fully grown and beautiful adopted daughter named Pele A. Pepper.
Wint and Kidd: Freelance Killers for hire. But they are polite and welcoming.
The Spang Gang: A group of mobsters who get money from rigged horse races. They are led by Sherrafimo Shpang (Serrafimo Spang, but I said it the Connery way).
General Pomerov: A Russian spy who stole equipment to conspire with SPECTRE.
Francisco Scaramanga: Man with the Golden Gun and member of the Spang Gang which also has ties to Zorin. Duh.
Polla Ivanova: One of View to a Kill's best bond girls. She's Russian, she likes classical music, and telling legends and fairy tales?
Blofeld: Poor old nutty lunatic villain, with his adorable cat, he's in prison for the majority of the story, but indeed makes a striking appearance.
AND NOW OUR STORY BEGINS!
Prologue:
Imagine a gunbarrel sequence. Seriously. Anyway...here we go:
Bill Tanner, Chief of Staff for M was showing Colonel Greensbury around every nook and cranny of the MI6 building in London.
"Welcome to your new office," said Tanner, introducing Colonel Greensbury to his room.
"Thank you, I think I shall like it here," said Greensbury.
"I should hope. It's a matter of England's national security that you do!" replied Tanner.
"I'll see to it that I enjoy every aspect of my new life," said Greensbury pulling out a Camacho Triple Maduro cigar from a box and smoking it.
Next he would imbibe in an Ashton Classic, then a Robusto.
He had a penchant for fine cigars, and was hiding a Churchill, Gurkha Majesty's Reserve, Natural Toro and Black Dragon under his desk.
"You're getting a fine start, I think," said Tanner.
"Now that I know it's for the sake of our fine country, the more the merrier" replied M, taking a puff from his cigar.
"You'll find the documents for MI6 operatives in the third drawer to your left, if you need anything just shout for me" said Tanner.
"Good, thank you!" replied M, lighting up a Lonsdale.
"MI6 will resume duties as usual from here onwards," said Tanner. "Anything I can get for you?"
"A fresh cup of Earl Gray perhaps. Oh, by the way there's reports coming in that Bond is in India, any idea why that is?" asked Greensbury.
"No idea, no idea at all sir. Had an eye on him for a while, but she failed to report. She did say there's something strange about Bond, that he's had his mind on other things ever since he met Dr. Swann. We may need him soon for an important mission, Mr. Greensbury" suggested Tanner.
"Greensbury? Ha, silly man. From now on, call me M. Only...M!" replied Greensbury, AKA the new M.
Brief flashback to Bond at a beach:
Bond was sitting underneath a tree. An aesthetically pleasing auburn-haired English woman was sitting on the branch of it.
"How's it bloody going up there, stranger?" asked Bond, taking a sip of his dry martini.
"I'm doing fine," replied the woman.
"As fine as you look?" asked Bond.
"Fine, just fine. Don't pretend you don't know who I bloody am. Also, what brought you to the beach?" asked the woman.
"Beauty and enchantment, of course. I must have the pleasure of knowing the name of those two qualities" said Bond.
"Remember me? I'm Gala Brand, a part of the Special Branch! Ever considered joining?" asked the woman, in a distinct British accent.
"Oh? Is that it? I'm tempted to. But you and MI6 will be pleased to know where I'm going next!" said Bond as he finished his drink.
"Where?" asked Gala looking confused.
"India," said Bond, adjusting his tie.
"INDIA? What? Hold on a minute, can you take me with you?" asked Gala. Bond approached Gala and smiled peacefully as he gazed into her eyes.
"Of course...not!" said Bond. Gala and Bond briefly embraced, and shared a quick kiss.
"I was sent here to evaluate your skills, and you pass with flying colors James" said Gala, as she slipped off of the branch into Bond's arms.
Bond's smartphone began ringing. It slipped out of his pocket, and then he saw a cat pick it up and run off with it. Bond bid a polite farewell to Gala and raced after the phone.
He could hear the voice of Felix as the small brown tabby cat ran off with the phone. Bond snatched it up out of his mouth.
"You may be a wonderful cat, but you've no business with anyone named Felix" said Bond. He picked up the phone.
"Okay Felix, I get it. Yes, yes. Well it's because something came up. Oh, alright I'll be there, this better be worth it" said Bond.
"What's the news? All of it good I hope. And who is that you were talking to?" asked Gala.
"I'm off to catch a flight to India" said Bond.
"Take me! Now!" shouted Gala in a provocative tone.
"Sorry Gala, but I'm on my way!" said Bond, walking away and adjusting his cufflinks, leaving Gala near the tree branch, bamboozled.
THE STORY FINALLY BEGINS:
We join Bond, in India:
Wednesday, Festival of Lights, City of New Delhi, India:
SPECTRE opened up with a festival, so I thought I'd essentially continue the tradition. This time one that is held in India and meant to represent life, and triumph of good over evil.
An amalgamation of lights, colors, and festivities brought brilliance to the night, as James Bond viewed the city that was filled to the brim with coruscant conviviality.
He was in his helicopter on loan from MI6, he had visited India during this time occasionally in the past while on vacation to partake in recreational activities, but this time was different as he hovered in front of a seemingly abandoned building, the tone became darker, as he observed a captive woman surrounded by four hooded men. Although this wasn't an official mission, Bond was no stranger to danger, Felix had told him an important person in the area was potentially in danger, and he wasn't about to let a lady remain in trouble. The men were shocked to see the smiling face of a secret agent being lowered from a wire in front of their window.
"For your eyes only, chumps," Bond whispered outside the window in a determined tone.
Bond crashed through said window, and using a silenced Walther PPK, he quickly disposed of the men with cold precision. He then freed the woman who had been tied up against the wall.
She thanked Bond, but with nervous acquiescence in her voice.
Her eyes were soulful and green, like emeralds.
"Thank you, I must know your name" said the Indian woman.
"Bond, James Bond. For real," replied Bond earnestly.
"I am Aditi, Aditi Aparna," replied the woman.
"No need to look so frightened anymore" said Bond.
"Why shouldn't I? I've been through a lot!" said Aditi.
"You're going to be okay. Those evil men are gone," explained Bond.
"I will? They are?" asked Aditi.
"I assure you my intentions are strictly honorable," replied Bond. "I'm here to rescue you"
Bond observed the blood-soaked floors. They were covered in rings containing the symbol of an octopuss.
"Well, you've certainly earned yourself a ring collection" said Bond.
"No thank you, they had terrible taste in jewelry" said Aditi.
"Well, we'd best get out of here" said Bond. He and Aditi grabbed onto the wire and lowered themselves out of the building slowly.
"This wouldn't make a bad selfie now would it?" said Bond, pulling out his smartphone and photographing him and Aditi.
"Do you know who I really am?" asked Aditi.
"Who?" asked Bond.
"I'm the daughter of the President of India" replied Aditi. Bond's eyes widened.
"Well, that makes things ten times more interesting" said Bond. He then received a call from MI6 demanding to know his whereabouts. Bond had heard that a very large criminal group was resurfacing, and Bond kept having to explain that yes indeed it was SPECTRE and that he had obtained proof.
"The people that took me. They are a very powerful criminal group. They have their hands in any dark deed you can think of. I mean anything!" said Aditi.
"She was probably kidnapped and given off to a horrible ring with lots of slimy tentacles," thought Bond.
Bond and Aditi finally landed in front of a crowd of civilians, almost appearing to have floated down from Heaven.
Why you ask? The wire they were lowered from was invisible, and the helicopter was high above and cloaked.
The citizens decorated Bond and Aditi in wreathes of flowers and jewels. Bond and Aditi laughed.
"Well, I must be going now, incognito that is, think fondly of me!" said Bond.
"No, you must stay" said Aditi, clutching onto Bond's suit. Felix lowered some more invisible wire that clasped onto Bond from behind, launching Bond into the air.
Everyone in the crowd was amazed.
Cue theme:
There's nothing more to give, there's nothing more to say.
Time flies by so fast, there's never just one more day.
The end is near some say, but that's superstition's way.
Every thought in the brain of a master agent always starts from our minds own clay.
For them a killing isn't work, it's all just merely play.
Evil lurks in every corner, there's only one way left to keep it eternally at bay...
Stop Spectre Forever Today! Yeah, you gotta stop, stop Spectre…..forever today!
Starring Daniel Craig and at times Roger Moore's spirit as Bond.
Starring Dr. Swann as Dr. Swann, with a Lea Seydoux stunt double.
Starring Ernst Stavro Blofeld as Blofeld.
Christopher Lee's spirit as Scaramanga.
AND MORE!
Meanwhile...….
Somewhere outside a barber shop in the United States:
It was a cloudy day in the Fall. The air was cool, yet discreet without breeze. Voluminous tires gripped, greased, and strangled the rough edges of the road mercilessly, then relinquished their hold to pardon a criminal, as a certain Francisco Scaramanga departed from his vehicle, a shiny Bentley Continental.
He was a man about thirty five years of age, 6 ft 3 inches tall, brown eyes and grayish hair in a crew-cut. He possessed a high-quality single-shot machine that fired a custom-built 4.2-millimeter golden (23-carat gold with traces of nickel) dum-dum bullet that was illustrious in its history. For backup purposes of which he was dubious about, he also carried a long-barreled, gold-plated, single-action Colt Peacemaker .45 caliber revolver that shot fine crafted silver-jacketed bullets possessing a gold core. Each gun could be disguised as a beautiful cigarette case, fountain pen or almost any household utensil you could think of. Almost. Maybe not a television remote.
Scaramanga made his way to an outdoor table and sat on a chair.
Two men were now seated by said outdoor table. One was the aforementioned man, Scaramanga. He was mostly freelance, but he did work for a mysterious unnamed organization that rigged races, as well as drug-smugglers and other various criminal groups. He felt he was free, anonymous, independent, and he liked it that way. The other man was a jockey. He had just won the most important race of his life.
"Scaramanga, my old friend. You attended the race I take it?" asked the jockey.
"A fine display of skill and prowess. You do realize that everyone within my circle and their mothers expected Loud Whisper to win that race?" said Scaramanga, a tall man with brown eyes that pierced the spirit.
"No, not really. My horse Shy Smile was the national favorite" replied the jockey. Shy Smile was the horse the jockey rode to the finish line, despite the injections given to Loud Whisper.
"Ah, you're not correct. Mark my words, Loud Whisper was supposed to win. Well, looks like about time for your haircut. The whole area is under new management" said the strange man.
"New management? That's a shame, Joe's the only barber for me" replied the jockey.
"Oh, it's not an issue. Ask for Wint and Kidd, two professionals, very good at cutting" said Scaramanga in a distinctly cold tone.
"Will do," replied the jockey, entering the establishment.
"Sounds like someone is having a bad hair day," muttered Scaramanga to himself, as a faint scream could be heard.
Another man, about eighty-five or so was reading a newspaper and sipping coffee.
He was seated one table across. He spoke some words.
"Exactly who might you be old chap?" asked the man, wearing dark sunglasses. He looked a tiny bit like Major Gowen from Fawlty Towers.
"Me? My name is Francisco Scaramanga. I would stay, but seeing as I skipped my lovely succulent breakfast I'm not in high enough spirits" said Scaramanga.
"I see, indeed!" said the old man. Scaramanga continued speaking.
"Just so you know, I have impeccable judgement, and I have the distinct pleasure of being a part of the most powerful organization in the world" said Scaramanga.
"Oh, sure" said the paper-reading man, laughing.
"Silence is golden, and so are my bullets" said Scaramanga, aiming his gun at the man. The old man saw Scaramanga apparently floating up into the air. Before making sure he hadn't been drinking too much coffee, he looked up in awe as Scaramanga kept seemingly lifting himself higher and higher into the atmosphere. In reality, some invisible wire had been clasped to him from a helicopter above. The helicopter had words marked on it that read:
ZORIN INDUSTRIES
Note: Yes, I did just give Scaramanga his own Bond intro, similar to Bond's as he is the anti-Bond.
Zorin Industries was of course a subsidiary of the most powerful criminal group ever:
Spectre! Special Executive for Counter-Intelligence Terrorism Revenge and Extortion. This is the group we will focus on in our story. And we join them now in their headquarters, somewhere in Rome:
Chapter 1:
A large table could be seen. Many people were seated in front of it. A lone man in a huge throne-like chair stood out amongst the pack.
"All the excitement in London rang a distant bell," said the voice of Carlos, a large burly mustachioed man dressed dressed a tiny bit like Oddjob but wearing sunglasses, and an exorbitant golden suit.
"I tried to save him, it-it-it was Bond, you have to understand, he made an impossible shot!" said the man who flew Blofeld's helicopter (died in the movie roll with it).
"You know the rules, I'm the godfather now, what I say goes, this is a dedicated fraternity that relies on the upmost strength and integrity of its members, that means no losers here" said Carlos, lighting up a cigarette and taking a puff from it.
"No, please have mercy" shouted the former pilot.
"You no understand? I read the manual, no losers, bold print, this organization does not tolerate failure" replied Carlos.
"Do me a favor then, make it quick" said the pilot.
"Also against the rules. Since Mr. Hinx is apparently on civil service duties, guards take him away, give him a very good drink" said Carlos.
The pilot was taken into a room with a large body of water containing sharks, and he then became the meal of said sharks.
"Señor Carlos, you were not the first choice for replacing Mr. Blofeld, but you have certainly proven yourself by killing his strong would be succesor" said General Pomerov, a former KGB spy.
"Does anyone have any problems with me being in charge? Anyone willing to challenge my position?" asked Carlos.
"There's no problem," replied a sly man known as Scaramanga.
"Good. Now then, James Bond killed my partner in crime, Franz Sanchez. He was a good man, honorable!" said Carlos
"Tell us more about your brother in crime" said Max Zorin.
"Loved animals. He carried an Iguana on his shoulder with him everywhere he went in public appearances. I loved Sanchez almost as much as I love the money I make with my business. I'm more qualified than anyone to destroy Mr. Bond, and replace Blofeld as supreme author of his pain" said Carlos.
"You intend to ensure Bond's future is shaken, stirred, and utterly imploding on itself. Haha, good, good!" said Zorin, but not before his cold blooded laugh.
"What is your connection to Bond?" asked Ramirez.
"Oh, a long time ago in California we played bridge," said Zorin thinking himself clever.
Later, the SPECTRE meeting was basically over save for a few closing statements...
"I hate to interrupt Number One, especially after such touching closing statements for our meeting, but I have an announcement of my own to make" said Zorin.
"Your precipitous intervention has ushered in quite an inauspicious beginning to an otherwise
wonderfully productive evening, Mr. Zorin" said Carlos.
"I assure you, I will take care of all negotiations from here onwards!" said Zorin.
"What the hell do you mean by that? Do you think SPECTRE decisions are made easily?" asked Carlos.
"It will be...smooth sailing, as some would say, ah-ha-ha!" said Zorin.
"Smooth sailing? Haha, you put a high price on yourself saying that. I am Carlos Ramirez, number one drug kingpin in Spain, there is no one who compares with me" replied Carlos, a man who spoke in a heavy accented deep voice, with great equanimity that rivaled that of Zorin and Hugo Drax combined.
"Well look, I think I may have just the deal for you. In recent years I have aquired partnerships with several corporations who are more than willing to
put into prospect my ambitions. My ambitions are your ambitions, that is, if we reach an agreement" said Zorin.
"Are we pitting nations against each other, or playing ring around the rosie with world powers or what? What's your profession again? Potato chip mogul?" asked Carlos.
"I haven't the time. You must learn some knowledge I gained from Blofeld about how things are run here. Rest of our discussion must of course be confidential" explained Zorin.
"You do not speak to me that way! You answer to me! Loyalty is the most important value here at Spectre, and you know as much about it as you do the anus of a shoefly! I decide how our discussions are carried out!" shouted Carlos, slamming the table violently with his fist.
"Look, Carlos. I am simply making a request. May we discuss our terms somewhere else?" asked Zorin.
"Excuse me, gentleman, this meeting is adjourned. Called off, kaput. Me and Zorin are going to go discuss terms for our global project" said Carlos.
"In that case, I shall introduce our newest recruits to our latest splendors of gadgetry. I've designed lots of little beauties!" said Scaramanga.
"Actually, I design most of them. Scaramanga shows them to people" said Dr. No.
"Ahem. You are forgetting someone, your main man!" said Mr. Auric Goldfinger.
"Ah, yes. Well, Goldfinger and I design most of the gadgets for SPECTRE" said Dr. No.
Wint and Kidd's Second Job:
A young man had discovered a strange deserted area in the desert storing packets of meth crystals.
"I'd better call the police!" shouted the man in a panic.
Wint and Kidd were waiting for him, guarding the area with a huge bucket of boiling mud.
"Call? In a desert this large? It must be tiring," said a creepy voice. "Being alone in the desert with no water for so long,"
Wint and Kidd grabbed hold of the man and bound him and gagged him.
"Who the hell are you? Oh shit, fuck, no way! Aaaaaaaaugh!" screamed the young man in a mumbling tone as he was drenched with boiling mud, repeatedly.
"Odd, I don't recognize him anymore, not as talkative, Mr. Kidd," said Wint, after the job was ultimately done.
"He's just a bit burnt out on life, Mr. Wint" replied Mr. Kidd.
"Yes. Some people are more shy than others, but they all tell a story in their own way, Mr. Kidd!" said Mr. Wint in an eerily comforting tone.
"Curious, how anyone who goes near those crystals has an accident!" replied Mr. Kidd.
Meanwhile, at a hotel Bond received an encrypted top secret voice message on his cell phone:
"Bond, this is Q Branch, we need you to get back in the field, out of retirement. M still wants my balls for Christmas ornaments, Moneypenny is delerious, and the terrorist group SPECTRE is rebranding itself and planning more attacks. Developed some new gadgets for you 007, but remember, I have cats to feed.
Also, what the hell were you doing in India?
From MI6 with love, Q"
Event 1: Châteauneuf-du-Pape
It wasn't typical of James Bond to find himself in dilapidated areas that lacked the refined gravitas of said agent. But it was a testament to the
grittiness of his resolve that he would enter such a place in the beginning, a seemingly abandoned warehouse in the middle of the desert.
He took several shots at some old wine glasses, shattering them into pieces, not
even taking in usual concerns about alarms being set off or guards gone wild. Bond had within him what the Greeks would call the power of Thrasos, and he was viewing this particular situation as though he were in some sort of lucid dream, not an actual mission. He began hearing explosions from the nearbye room, so he kicked down the door, with his Walter PPK in tow, armed and poised for pistol action. He saw two men mixing together several solvents, powders, and acids. This was an illegal operation, the creation of methamphetamines. Bond, gun drawn and aimed at the heads of the two men, slowly entered the room.
"Don't even breathe," said Bond. "Don't flinch an eye either. Who are you men working for?"
"Señor Bond, we work for no one but ourselves, we're just metallurgists" replied Sanchez, one of the men, his hands up in the air.
"I don't believe you for a second," said Bond, grappling up Sanchez under his forearm, and aiming his gun at his head. The other man attempted to draw his
gun and shoot Bond, but Bond opened fire on him, shooting him in the chest, dead at point blank range.
"Bond, wha-wha-what are you doing?" shouted Sanchez.
"You apparently want bullets for breakfast, don't you?" said Bond in a cold voice.
"Bond, you don't know what you're up against" said Sanchez, panting nervously. Bond saw that armed guards were beginning to enter the room, after hearing
all the shots fired.
"Oh, I think I do, pimps, punks, and a putz" said Bond, shooting Sanchez, and after adjusting his cufflinks briefly, he entered the next room guns blazing the living daylights out of the opposition, while taking cover behind steel barrels time to time.
"Then again, I don't really give a damn, I just want you all dead as moth guts splattered on a window" said Bond, ditching his Walther PPK and replacing it with none other than a Browning M2 50 caliber machine gun. Again, he felt as though he were in a dream. More guards were coming towards him.
Bond then saw some explosives.
"If you're ever in a jam, just make toast! No, this is a meth lab. No way. But the urge...ok!" said Bond, shooting the explosives and sending the guards flying.
Surprisingly Bond was still alive and there was no major consequences or fallout. This was certainly a dream.
He began shooting down guard after guard pulling off headshots effortlessly, until they were all dropping to the floor like flies. Eventually, he came across who seemed to be in charge of the operation, sitting in a wooden chair in front
of a desk.
"Damn! My own man turned against me, no that's not quite it, another informant ratting me out to the CIA, MI6, the FBI? IMF? Oh wait, no. Some newbie I don't even recognize" muttered the man.
"You're looking at Bond, James Bond!" said Bond. The man sitting in front of the chair reached for his gun.
"You are a thorn in my side, Mr. Bond!" said the man. But he was completely out of bullets.
"Am I looking at the bellicose bellwether of bullshit? Am I?" asked Bond.
"You could be looking at the belweather of many things, Mr. Bond. Bullshit is only one of my many enterprizes, though I do admire its
shape, its brilliance" replied the strange mustachioed man. Bond now could tell he was in a dream, as this statement made little to no sense.
"What is your name? Come on, tell me your name or I'll find out the easy way" said Bond.
"And what might that be, eh?" asked the man.
"I'll look at the credit card attached to your pathetic corpse, and then toss you in a bloody trash bin for the vultures to feed on" replied Bond.
"I am but a lowly businessman in the humble service of Carlos Ignatius Ramirez. He's the big fish for your frying pan, not me" said the man, who lept out the window at lightening speeds, breaking the glass and running away outside. Bond followed in pursuit, as fast as his feet would carry him, all the way to the edge of a cliff. Bond cornered the drug dealer with his gun drawn to his head.
"One last chance, who are you?" asked Bond. "Give me everything or nothing," he added.
"I told you, I'm nobody, I've given you all the information you need, I'm no help anymore" replied the man.
"You know what? I think you're bloody well correct, thank you!" said Bond, kicking the man off the edge of the cliff. But he let out a parachute, and escaped.
"Oh, rats" said Bond. He then saw a bottle of French wine roll up in front of him, as if out of nowhere. A note was on the botttle:
Châteauneuf-du-Pape, mixed with Absinthe. Love, XOXO Madaleinn Swann.
"What the holy hell kind of bullocks has she been giving me?" Bond thought.
He wondered if he would start to hallucinate, as absinthe allegedly has such properties, though unconfirmed.
Surely Swann, the best Bond girl wasn't a SPECTRE defector.
Oh god that rhymed. Anyway, back to the story:
"This is certainly surreal," Bond murmured. He looked
at the date. It was current, so he began drinking. He thought he heard an old record playing the song "Underneath the Mango Tree," then he woke up.
Yeah, it was all a dream. Or an all time high. We'll take on the world and win, doing so much more than falling in love.
BOND WAS IN BED IN HIS APARTMENT IN BRISTOL, ENGLAND.
"Bond," said a tipsy female voice. "Bond, you have been drinking and dreaming again" she added.
Bond opened his eyes to find himself in bed, beholding the glorious sight of a well-endowed Dr. Swann in a maids cap, wearing a French black backless dress with yellow trim, with a skirt far above knee length, and a half-apron of lace. She sported fingerless gloves as well.
Though we all know Swann wouldn't dress like that. So Bond was hallucinating. Either that or the wine was making Swann do her "crazy things" as mentioned in the movie Spectre.
"So it's true, you are still a spy aren't you? You were on a mission Wednesday night, I'm now sure. Once a spy, always a spy, naughty boy!" said Swann, placing her index-finger on Bond's nose.
"So what if I was? And why are you dressed like that? You should be in your doctor clothes, this is unbecoming of a professional like you," said a drunk James Bond in a jovial joking tone, while chuckling.
"I am in my doctor clothes, Mr. Bond" replied Swann.
"I must be dreaming," said Bond.
"I wish you had been dreaming Wednesday in India. If you retire, will you start collecting rare guns and blowing up toy trains?" asked Swann.
"If you speak your native tongue to me, nothing like nostalgia I suppose. Or strawberries and grapes! Open your tunnel, will you?" said Bond, slowly and sensuously feeding Swann pieces of chocolate covered fruit, which she continuously begged for.
"Mm, thank you Mr. Bond! I would like to go to India with you next time. On a flying carpet, decked out in jewels of all colors" said Swann.
"That could be arranged I suppose. I feel a tad bit strange. Do I need a checkup?" asked Bond.
"If by checkup, you mean your blood alcohol level, then yes" replied Swann.
"I'm hysterical!" shouted Bond. Swann slapped him in a playful and oddly loving fashion.
"So different," said Bond. He continued, "You're the spiciest love I've ever had. You match me, don't you?"
"Yes, but it's beyond that, I complete you. Don't think this is zeh moment you win. Now then, your level," replied Swann.
"It's not high enough yet, is it?" asked Bond.
"No," replied Swann, going to the kitchen of their Bristol apartment. She came back with a vintage red tinted bottle.
"Châteauneuf-du-Pape, for ze bellweather of wine-bibbers, no? Zat makes both of us, Mr. Bond. We are both ze belweathers of wine-bibbers" said Swann, pouring some wine into a glass.
"It needs some absinthe, excuse me for a second" said Swann, who was not aware of its full powers or impact, due to the fact it never affected her.
When both their glasses were filled, Bond and Swann clung them together.
"To a long, happy, carefree life for a renewed man and woman, our previous lifestyles behind us" said Swann.
"To you, Dr. Swann, to both of you" said Bond, seeing double.
"We have been through so much," said Swann.
"How do you suppose Blofeld is doing?" asked Bond, chuckling.
"Oh, stop it Bond," said Swann. "Let's talk about us"
"I let loose that day with you at the motel more so than any other in my entire life. And to think I was on a deadly mission. It must be love, Dr. Swann, I'm no stranger to it" said Bond.
"Do you know what I like about you best?" asked a tipsy Swann.
"What?" asked Bond.
"James, it's zeh way zat you hold me, whenever you hold me" said Swann, nearing tears.
They embraced sensuously and kissed with vigerous passion for a good fifteen seconds. Just as she was beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt, Bond then realized Dr. Swann was in a knee length white overcoat with buttons on it. She was looking like her usual psychiatrist self, much to Bond's surprise, disorienting him.
Bond began freaking out, flailing his arms, thinking he had to reach for his gun to fight the drug cartel. He started yelping. Swann slapped him again.
"Make them go away, doctor. Make the bad people go away!" said Bond.
"There's only two bad people in the room Mr. Bond," replied Swann, before letting out a soft moan.
"Just you and me eh? You look like bloody Blofeld wearing that" protested a hallucinating Bond.
"It's me, James, ze author of all your pain" said Swann in a mocking tone, having fun. "It's always been me" she added, scrunching up her nose.
"Help me Swann!" yelled Bond.
"Do you need an anesthetic injection, Mr. Bond?" asked Swann, reaching for her coat pocket.
"No, no, please no. God in heaven, no" replied Bond.
"Are you sure?" asked Swann, giving Bond an icey cold stare. The aforementioned stare was idiosyncratic to Dr. Swann's character.
"No, it's the kind of thing I'm not particularly privy to. Tell me, Dr. Swann, what made you change?" asked Bond.
"I didn't change. These are my doctor clothes" replied Swann.
"When I saw you earlier, you were wearing long tight latex stockings, an apron, a black dress and a maids cap" said Bond.
"Based on the murder and mayhem in your mind during sleep, the hallucinations, both auditory and visual, I would probably diagnose you with very mild schizoaffective disorder" said Swann.
"Oh too bad it's only mild I was rather enjoying it for a while" said Bond.
"There is no way you derived pleasure from it" replied Swann.
"I enjoyed the part where you came," replied Bond.
"Well, there are of course the misplaced unethical doctor patient concupiscent desires, we'll get to those soon, I know just how we can deal with them" said Swann.
"Sounds interesting" replied Bond.
"You were always a double-o to me. But, that's okay, it's just a number" said Swann.
Later that day...
"So, Bond, where are we going? We're not going anywhere in zat lemon, I am afraid. My father would not have been caught dead driving something like that"
said Swann.
"He had poor taste. There's nothing wrong with it. It just needs new spark plugs" said Bond laughing.
"New spark plugs. That's a good one, I'd prefer a Mrs. 007 licence plate" said Swann sarcastically.
"Yes, quite. Well, are we going? Hampshire or Burton Town in Sumerset?" asked Bond.
"Oh, I haven't decided yet. I was thinking more along the lines of Dungeness Beach" said Swann.
"You must be joking, you must be" said Bond.
"Yes," replied Swann. "But let's book a flight there anyway, for laughs," she added, giggling up a storm.
Swann was much more vivacious than usual.
"Yes, let's do that, let's book a flight to Dungeness Beach, it's a very good idea" replied Bond earnestly.
Later...
A not so rational Bond and Swann made reservations for the only living hotel in Dungeness Beach, England's only desert, and proprety to many strange power plants, and even stranger natural plants. Okay maybe not that strange.
They got a shiny new car with spy upgrades!
On the way to the hotel:
"Look at yourself," said Swann, holding up a mirror to Bond.
"No, I'm driving" replied Bond.
"Are you afraid of what you might uncover?" asked Swann.
"Yes," replied Bond. "A sense of bad mojo, and deja-vu" he said, as he looked through his rearview mirror to notice he and Swann were being followed by
four KIA Spectras. The spectras took a turn and drove off, while a large black unmarked truck did indeed begin following Bond and Swann. The trucks windows were tinted in such a way they could not be seen through.
"Those are Spectras, Bond, they have nothing to do with Spectre" Swann assured him. But just then, a barrage of bullets came from the windows of a large
truck. Someone who looked an awful lot like Mr. Hinx began firing, alongside a machine-gun toting blonde blue eyed man in a suit, and a mustachoied Spanish gentleman.
"Q forget to delete a few of those perfectly non traceable files on you eh?" said Swann, ducking, and reaching for her gun.
"This is what happened last time, but I'm not going to let it happen again, it's Blofeld" said Bond, having a flashback.
"What should we do?" asked Swann.
"Like I always say, if you're ever in a jam, just make toast" replied Bond.
He pulled out a Browning M2 50 caliber machine gun and began blasting at the gas tank of the truck, but missed. He then pushed a button next to the gear shifter of his car, activating a Q device
which set out a grappling hook that caught on to the truck, like a fly on sandpaper. Bond then began steering his vehicle around and around, then relinquished
his grip from the button, but not before asking Swann what kind of mental disorder she'd diagnose the SPECTRE goons with.
"Let's see, they're clearly from the revenge department avenging Blofeld's arrest," said Swann.
"Yes, so what do you diagnose these twits with?" asked Bond.
"I'd say they have severe attachment issues!" replied Swann.
The truck then burst into flames, but the three men in it activated Ejector seats, sending them flying in the air.
A fat man with a Louisiana accent who happened to be on vacation witnessed the event.
"I ain't never done that before! What the hell is going on around here? Must be the work of that English secret agent from here in England again!" said the man.
Another voice in the far distance could also be heard saying the following words:
"JW Pepper? Where are youu?" JW blocked the sun by placing his arm over his forehead. He attempted to make out what appeared to be his wife in the distance, wearing a floppy purple hat. His wife was called Mable.
"Mable, Mable! You ain't never gonna believe this!" said JW Pepper.
"What happened JW?" asked Mable.
"Right when I was minding my own business, eating some chicken tenders and a Crispy Creme, I saw three people flyin' through the air attached to car seats" replied JW.
"JW you ain't seen nothing. Why don't you come back to the hotel you need some rest" said Mable.
"Mable, I swear! I ain't makin' this up, hell I'd tell the BBC, CNN, the Food Network, Geraldo Rivera, Ancient Aliens. Mable, I'd even make the History Channel!" said JW.
"JW, lay off of those Crispy Creme donuts for a while. Might do ya some good" replied Mable.
"Mable, why did you drag us out here? This ain't no flippin' god damn beach!" said JW.
"I wanted to see England, JW!" replied Mable.
"England? This looks like Afghanistan. Or Siberia, Russia in Russia. Or that Area 51 American military base in America!" said JW. JW heard a young woman's voice
in the distance.
"Hey! Hey Daddy, it's me! I graduated from criminal justice!" said the high squeaky voice.
"Mable, our spicy little pepper is calling out to us!" said JW.
Pele A. Pepper was JW's surprisingly beautiful blonde adopted twenty six year old daughter. She was in the process of entering the police force, just like her dear old dad.
She was cute, sweet, and well-meaning, but fell in love at the drop of a hat.
She was named after a Hawaiian fire goddess, her full name meaning "Hot Pepper".
Pele loved to watch NASCAR with JW. But we'll deal more with her later in the story. A little bit.
Her middle name is Agnimetra.
Later, at the hotel:
Swann was getting dressed/undressed for a night of bonding with Bond.
"I told you I can't live like this, always being on the run from people. What am I gonna do with you?" said Swann.
"I don't know I'm convinced you handle yourself pretty well," said Bond. Swann took this as a compliment.
"Do you mind if I dress myself in front of you, Bond?" asked Swann.
"Nothing like a fashion show before dinner" replied Bond. Swann looked out the window to see a lone phone booth in the middle of nowhere.
"Bond, are payphones still a thing?" asked Swann.
"In the middle of the desert probably not" replied Bond.
"You think it's a front for something else? I'm going to go look" said Swann.
"No, don't, it's too dangerous" replied Bond.
"I saved your life from Mr. Jinx back on the train!" shouted Swann.
"You saved my life the first time I saw your eyes" replied Bond. Swann's expression suddenly changed from angry to sad.
"What did you mean about 'last time' when you were talking in the car?" asked Swann.
"I-I-I..it's nothing. Listen, if you want to go see what's out there be my guest, we have all the time in the world" said Bond. No sooner had Bond uttered these words, Swann glanced at Bond as though she were looking into his soul. She felt they were important to him from his past.
"We have all the time in the world, where is that from? Tell me, I promise I won't be upset" said Swann.
"Well, what if all the time in the world just was not enough? Hello? The world is never forever, it never was. Baccarat, casinos, chills, kills, thrills, none of it.
I wanted something more than the world, and you gave that to me, but a long time ago someone else did, I lost her, now I have someone I feel much stronger for and that's you. I don't want to lose you, again" said Bond. His eyes looked very slightly watery, but in Bond's mind they were alligator tears. Swann saw something deeper in all this hooplah. She felt she had to pry it out of him no matter how much pain it caused him. The ramifications were just too huge in Swann's mind.
Somewhere within the confines of the cold-blooded exterior of James Bond was a heart and soul. Or was there? She was mostly comparing him to her own self, on the outside cold and no nonsense hardcore assassin, but on the inside Swann was perhaps something different as well.
"Again? You don't want to lose me, again? How did that slip out of your mouth? That's an odd way of putting it" replied Swann.
"The-the-world is never forever," said Bond clearing his throat. "It's not enough. Look, it's not something I'd readily admit to just anyone, it hurts my pride"
"What? Say that again? The World is Never Forever? That's on my family crest!" shouted Swann.
"Moneypenny did some quiet digging on everyone who worked at the Center for National Security. She's obsessed with you! Has been for a long time" replied
Bond.
"So you found out about my private details through Moneypenny?" asked Swann.
"Be careful, the ears of Blofeld are everywhere, he may have even escaped from his cell" replied Bond.
Bond saw a text from MI6: SPECTRE NOW IN LOVING TENDER HANDS OF MAX ZORIN, MICROCHIP MOGUL, NAZI EXPERIMENT, AND FORMER KGB. Report immediately.
Bond looked horrified after seeing his cell phone text. But Swann looked even more horrified looking at a little black Bachelor's book on the table.
"Bond, who in the bloody hell are Pussy Galore, Plenty O' Tool, Tiffany Case, Agent 99, Agent XXX, Pele A. Pepper, Xenia Onattop, and Honey Ryder?" asked Swann.
"Friends," replied Bond in a solumn tone. "I've got bigger issues right now" he added.
"Friends? Are you sure? They sound like..oh, never mind!" said Swann.
"Try not to think about it" said Bond.
"Holly Goodhead huh?" said Swann. "I'll be damned if I let myself have that name"
"Shut up, I'm trying to reach MI6" said Bond.
"Fatima Blush, are you blushing yet Bond?" asked Swann, continuing to read off the list.
"Haha, no, god this music sucks cock," said Bond, in a surprisingly non gentlemanly manner. You know, Craig not Moore era.
"That looks like Mr. Hinx cleaning up trash outside" said Dr. Swann.
"Word is he's on civil service duties, but it's actually his brother Mr. Jinx" said Bond sarcastically.
"Emma Peel, now there's a name I love!" said Swann in an exuberant tone.
Later...
Swann attempted to find the mysterious phone booth much to Bond's disappointment. She found nothing but a note:
"WE'RE STILL WATCHING YOU BOND AND SWANN. WE KNOW WHERE YOU ARE THROUGH THE BLOOD IN THE VEINS OF 007" Bond showed up on the scene.
"Spectre is still watching us. It's because of the smart blood nanodevices, Bond!" said Swann.
"Yes, Q's magic death potion. I'll have Q de-activate it as soon as I meet up with him" replied Bond.
"Hurry then!" shouted Swann.
"I want you to come with me, since M wants me in London. I want you to come with me" said Bond.
"No!" shouted Swann.
"Listen, Dr. Swann, with your past experience at the Center for National Security as well as your overall Harvard educated resume, you could get a new job at MI6
very easily" said Bond.
"I don't want to go on another adventure with you. I'd rather be shot!" said Swann.
"Listen, Swann, my license to kill isn't for that. It's now for shooting anyone who tries to tear us apart" said Bond.
"What? That is insane. Oh, I will come along for the trip. I can't live like this forever though!" said Swann.
"Every rose has its thorn I suppose," Bond muttered to himself.
Continued in Chapter 2. Go there now, the world may depend on it