A.N. This fiction is the first story in my series Becoming Q. It works as either a stand alone piece or as a prologue to later parts. Later parts and stand-alone pieces will be posted (in chronological order) as they are written as additional chapters to this work.
Summary: Transitions are rarely smooth at MI6. Some less so than others.
Becoming Q
by Midnight12reader
The massive punch of pain, terror, the overwhelming, consuming fear of it all hit with the weight of a battering ram against his senses. It was almost enough to send him to his knees, crashing against his shields in waves with all the force of a sledgehammer against plaster. Only his iron fisted control, hard won, kept him on his feet at all.
Well, that and not an insignificant amount of pride. It wasn't enough, however, to keep his head from spinning or his vision from going hazy around the edges at the overwhelming amount of feeling. And it was pride, more than anything else at that moment, that kept him from blacking out. As the first wave hit his shields, he vaguely felt the building shake on it's foundations at the force of what appeared to be, if he had to guess, an explosion. The lights flickered once, twice, before dying out altogether. It was only a moment before the emergency lighting kicked in, leaving the room bathed in an eerie blue haze.
Ryan took a moment to simply breathe, the soft inhales and exhales echoing in the empty space, before slowly reaching up and removing the prescription safety glasses now perched precariously on his nose. He deftly set them aside with a muffled click, face blank in what he could self diagnose as a minor case of shock. Joy. He calmly picked up his regular pair and slide them into place with practiced motions.
Staring ahead, mind slightly numb but working to reboot, he slowly turned to face the reinforced door. He paused for a moment, turning back and unstrapping a small hand gun from its nesting place under the counter of the testing booth. Unthinkingly checking it's status, and sliding an extra clip into a spare pocket, he turned back to the door. You never knew, he thought idly, when a trigger would have to be pulled, but best be prepared either way. He smirked, his lips quirking up at the corners. Most would think him incapable. They would be wrong.
The thing he remembers most, thinking back on that day, isn't the dead bodies scattered across the floor as he had stepped out of the heavily fortified room, or the fires that had sprung up in the bomb's wake, but the silence. It was the silence that blanketed the whole event that had had him spurring himself to action after all, that had finally cleared away the final cobwebs that had blanked his mind. He thought it rather obvious really, and he wondered why none of the other staff that appeared to be wondering around in a fog had reached the same conclusion. No clamoring sirens, no insistent alerts equaled no standing security, equaled no guarantee that this wasn't only the first act in a greater scheme.
Ryan picked up his pace considerably after that, leaving the checking of the downed personnel to the other agents, as he strode quickly down and through the labyrinth of halls, absently tucking the gun into the small of his back and pulling a small contraption of his pocket as he went. His mind he controlled with a firm mental hand, quickly pulling his shields together and reinforcing them to the best of his now limited ability, determined to only think, and think quickly, not to feel, not now. That was something that could be pushed aside to be dealt with later, he promised himself.
He swiftly typed in a long string of code, waiting impatiently as his set protocols engaged, unlocking and unfolding the older security system and existing network for his perusal. It was only a matter of moments before he was connected to everything and better able to understand what had occurred above. Ryan had never really been good at following other people's protocols, or being surrounded by tech he wasn't allowed to actively control. If they hadn't wanted him plugging into the network and making improvements, they never should have hired him. He smiled grimly. Or maybe that was why they hired him the first place. One never knew with M. M was more than a little crazy, scarily so, or so he had been told, it had made some of her Double-O choices seem more understandable, so he was inclined to agree. He smirked as the relevant data began streaming across the small screen.
It appeared that the explosion had taken out M's main office floor, and had taken out most of Q branch's more vulnerable areas, in order to cripple their defenses and create a leak through which they could worm their way into their systems. While saddened at the loss of life, Ryan was satisfied that his improvements to the security system had not been in vain. Otherwise, they would have all been fucked by now.
With that cheery thought, Ryan reset the system with a swipe of his thumb, and engaged the necessary programming to begin to back tracking the signal to the source as, he made his way deeper into Q branch to assess the damage. As the main entrance to the inner sanctum of Q branch came into view, Ryan unconsciously straightened his shoulders and lengthened his stride, as he absent mindedly reached up and brushed bits of plaster out of his hair.
As he walked through the double doors and into the heart of Q branch, he was glad to see that none of the main agents had been severely injured, beyond a few scorch marks or minor burns, although the overall sense of chaos was troubling...and irritating.
"Enough." His voice carried easily over the general din, bringing the movement and voices to a satisfyingly abrupt halt. "That. Is. Quite. Enough." he demanded. "Don't you think?" he asked archly. He scanned the room, starring down those who met his eyes.
As one of the nearby agents, whose name Ryan had not yet bothered to learn, opened his mouth to comment, Ryan continued, "Where are Q and R?"
The agent's mouth closed with a soft click.
Silence fell, as slowly eyes were cast up first to the ceiling, as if they could see though to the stories above, before sinking slowly to stare unblinkingly at the floor. It was enough for the obvious conclusion to be reached. Wonderful, Ryan thought tiredly, as an agent coughed uncomfortably. He worked hard, squashing the momentary wave of hysteria that wanted to consume him, thinking of what would have to happen next, just wonderful.
"I see." Ryan finally stated quietly, burying the hurt, anger, devastation deep and locking it into a dark corner of his mind to be felt later, much later, when he was alone and had the luxury of it. And could cry and fall apart and not have to worry about what this all means to him. To his future, to his heart. But now was not that time. His hand shook before steadying quietly at his side.
He watched them solemnly for a moment, soaking in their confusion and the faint threads of fear, before pushing it all aside, "Well, we still have a job to do." He reminded them, tonelessly. He waits, watching for the moment that it happens, when they all look at him and ask themselves if they can follow him, if they should listen, never mind that this is his place. That with R and Q, God, Q gone, they are his.
They jump as the previously dead monitors powered up suddenly around them, screens and lights slowly flickering on. "I suggest you get to it." His tone leaves no room for argument.
He confidently brings up the small tablet, flicking his fingers agilely across the screen. Assignments and data streams began popping up on nearby terminals, as bits of data and code began to stream across the larger monitors.
The television in the corner clicked on, as power was fully restored, volume off, but showing the turmoil on the street above. "We have a lot to do." he states quietly, almost to himself, eyes fixed momentarily on the broadcast images.
Slipping the small device into his pocket, Ryan strode down the short steps and toward the central bank of computers, Q's former home base, now apparently his. The agents parted in his wake, the majority deftly returning to their stations and beginning work on their assignments. Smart of them. Others continued to stare deftly still clearly in a state of shock. They clearly needed more veterans in the department, Ryan thought tiredly.
"Who the hell are you?" asked one of the agents, oh look the same idiot as last time, Ryan thought with a mental eye roll as he came to a sudden stop as eyes darted up to take in the spectacle. Finally found his voice apparently- what a pity. Must be a newbie to the branch, Ryan mused idly. He hadn't been keeping track. Not really his area. New minions were always such a pain, especially when they weren't broken in by, well…it didn't matter now, did it? Time to get back into the game, his programs couldn't run themselves forever.
Ryan turned round slowly, taking time to lock eyes with the agent, "I'm your new Quartermaster." The 'idiot' went unsaid, but not unheard. "Now. Get. To. Work." He clipped out, patience fraying. With that he continued on his way, striding up to the central terminal and beginning to dive into the code that was laying itself out before his eyes. At the lack of movement coming from behind him, he slid one hand from the keyboard, eyes still locked on the screens before him. Reaching behind him, he deftly pulled the gun from the back of his trousers; bring it to rest calmly, deliberate at his side.
Click. He casually disengaged the safety with a flick of his thumb, the sound seemed to echo through the room. "If you'd rather…" the newly promoted Q queried icily. The bustle behind him was most satisfactory, he thought, as he neatly set the weapon down next to the keyboard. It was time to get started.
A.N. I have no idea what name Q would have gone by before becoming Q. 'Ryan' seemed as good a pick as any at the time. I apologize for any and all errors in this piece. This was mostly a short writing exercise to get the fanfiction-writing muscles working again that I thought others might enjoy, so any editing was minimal and cursory at best.