Burn it down
by ardara
Bond and his entourage are of course properity of their creators. OC Emily Delacroix is mine, as well as the story. Chapter headlines are taken from the song „Burn it down" by Linkin Park, who own them. Forgot anything? Right: Any analogy to persons or events of real life as well as to existing pieces of literature are totally random and beg my pardon.
[Post- Skyfall]. Bond reveals some details about M's death that put Mallory on the dark side... (P16, slight 00Q touch, contains SPOILERS!)
You told me yes
The hot, dry wind run round his skin like sandpaper. Lying flat on the warm dune of sand, the man with the short blond hair was watching the tent camp deep down in the wadi. It was silent, all silent, but it was a menacing silence – like the deep breath before the deep shout.
James Bond took the small data carrier out of the pocket of his skirt und turned it round in his hand, thinking. It was hardly as big as his thumbnail und glittered when touched by the sun; but although Bond could hardly believe it was worth the things which were about to happen.
Shortly after the funeral of M, who was at this point just called Barbara Mawdsley (to him, she would always be M), Mallory had given him the instructions. And so, Bond went to Burkina Faso, to find Christopher Legrange near to Tera. Christopher Legrange was the last surviving accomplice of hold of the data carrier had been very simple; the second part of Mallory's instruction was the one that had been hard for Bond to handle.
You held me high
Still, he heard the voice of his new boss at MI6 echoing his ears.
„You have to set an end to this, Bond. No one but you has matched Silva before, and you have to strike down his last surviving accomplice."
He had turned his back on him and looked out of the window while Bond had open the white envelope containing the instructions.
„Christopher Legrange. Granted the access to the data stream of the african world to Silva. He owns important information on double agents working for Silva's – organisation."
Gareth Mallory spit out the last word, as if he felt uncomfortable using it describing Silva and his pack.
„Find him, Mr. Bond."
A small flame flickered next to the eastern tent. Bond threw himself to the ground and pressed his face down on the sand. The bitter smell of dynamite joined the warm odor of the sandy ground. The silence was teared apart by the explosions, and screaming and shouting arose to an giant orchestra of terror. A big final boum showed the end of the massacre. Bond rose slowly to his feet und looked down the wadi that was filled by a burning sea of flames and dust. The data carrier seemed to be in flames in his hand. Suddenly, he heard a cracking noise in his head phone.
And I believed when you told that lie
In a low, but unmistakable voice he heard Mallory, his new boss, who would never be the real „M" to him.
„007, report." It was not a plea, not a question, but an order. Just a cold order.
„Camp Babatunde is down, Sir", Bond answered.
„Good job, 007", Mallory answered, taking it for granted.
Bond gave him a bitter laugh and turned of the head phone.
Mallory really was son of a b****.