Note: I do not own James Bond or his associates.
Q holstered his weapon. Though he had designed a number of firearms, he rarely deigned to use them, preferring to cripple enemies with his sleek laptop and an unusually active mind. A week ago however, a mission that required an on-site hacking of a system whose operators jealously guarded their secrets- a task that no one else could perform, had forcefully launched Q into the field.
The physical security at the location was as tight as a drum. The virtual firewalls were endless. His security (Agent 007) was a constant pain in the behind. In short, it was not a simple mission. After what seemed like an eternity, the mission was finally complete, another in a string of achievements under his belt. This terrorist organisation would blight the world no more.
A satisfied smile was plastered on the young Quartermaster's face as his mind filled with thoughts of a steaming mug of well-deserved Earl Grey and planting a stink bomb into Bond's Aston Martin in retaliation to his ridiculing of his dress sense (as if the agent had any taste to speak of, being constantly garbed in black suits and ties, perfect for funerals). The smug creature (who was currently inspecting one of the fallen guards' weapons with detached interest) would never know what hit him. Q chuckled inwardly. The reaction would be priceless. The covertly mischievous Quartermaster contemplated installing a high-resolution surveillance camera in the vehicle to capture the moment and downloading the clip into his laptop and mobile phone for his personal viewing pleasure on rainy days. It would be a phenomenal mood lifter in years to come, he was certain.
Abruptly, the deafening roar of a firearm's discharge rudely interrupted his fantasy. Instinctively, his head swivelled to the source of the noise, just in time to see a blurred grey spot rapidly advancing towards him. A bullet. They must have missed a guard in their haste- a fatal oversight. Q was deer caught in the headlights, frozen to the spot. Unlike Bond, he had not been trained to instinctively dodge shards of murderous, fast-flying lead. He dwelled in cyberspace, slaying virtual foes, decimating digital fortresses. All the pleasurable thoughts that had graced his mind only seconds before had swiftly fled, leaving a black void. He could only watch wide-eyed and slack jawed as his death flew towards him.