Bond toyed with the small rectangular object. "Why the hell does Q make everything so damned complicated?" he thought as he slid the key (and what other gadgets Q had managed to fit inside the little black rectangle) into the start button. He pushed the transparent button once, and the V12 burbled to life. Neutral into first, and the car pounced forward.
Regrettably similar who woman, cars were passive things to bond. No car ever stayed with him for more then a few months. Even through his early years his aggressive driving had led to an impressive car-kill-count. In fact James had scarred everything from his best friends VW, to his Headmaster's saloon. This car though was different. It looked, sounded, and felt like something special.
The first thing one would notice about this car would be the grille. Its iconic shape flowed into the hood, then into the roofline, while the feature and shoulder lines showed off the muscle underneath. The whole piece tapered off into an elegant spoiler lip, while a rear diffuser brought up the bottom. An Aston Martin badge was proudly portrayed in the back, and DBS found to the right. The whole car was stunning, an excellent example of British design. First into second, and the car raced ever further into northern Italy.
Bond held the car closer to the apex then he needed to. His job usually involved a lot of dirty work, but here, now, winding through other traffic, Bond was having fun. He was not without a mission though. Crudely tied up in the trunk was the man who had killed Le Chief on the barge. The same man had been responsible for Vesper's death, and Bond wanted revenge for his lover's life, but he needed the man to talk first. The man had to be linked to something bigger, otherwise he would not of been sent to the barge. Bond's best bet of making this man talk would be to take him to M in the MI6 office in Sienna. There the unnamed man wouldn't just talk, M would make him sing. Second snapped into third, and trouble became visible in the rear view mirror.
Two Alfa Romeo 159s quickly became visible in the rear mirror. No doubt these were men sent by the unknown organization, men sent to kill Bond before he had any usable information against their employers. Bond opened up the throttle, and 510 horses surged through the rear wheels. Third gear popped into fourth, and the men in pursuit started shooting.
Bullets whizzed everywhere, and the surrounding traffic scattered. A truck was hit by stray fire, and smashed into the sidewall. In an attempt to compensate the driver swerved right and hit Bond. The DBS and the truck were now joined by a part of the smashed truck, only to be severed by a ramming 159. The door flew off, and the Aston spun into the same wall the truck had. "Shit," thought bond as he pushed in sixth gear. "Q is going to kill me for that."