Disclaimer - I don't own James Bond, or The World Is Not Enough from where this scene was taken. I just own the way I wrote it, and my own thoughts about what Bond may have been thinking when he confronted Elektra.
Maiden's tower certainly lived up to its name, James reflected as he ran up the flight of stairs that twisted like a spiral like the inside of a lighthouse. He panted lightly as he ran up the stairs; contrary to what some believed when they saw the amount of meat he ate and how many vodka martinis he drank, James always worked hard to maintain his physique in order to keep himself healthy and fit enough for active duty, but also because he enjoyed it. He privately worked on the martial arts, worked out in gyms, and so on whenever he was off duty to keep his strength, speed and reflexes in full working order.
The maiden's tower staircase was hardly a challenge, but the kind of physical workout he'd needed ever since he'd gotten into this mess. And he also needed to concentrate on something other than the low grade ache in his still healing shoulder from that impact on the Millennium dome a short while ago, and the feeling in his neck where that screw had almost snapped it. It was rare he had to run up a flight of stairs like this, but he welcomed it. He also welcomed the adrenaline rush that surged as he dashed up the stairs, but there was also a sense of anger there as well to push him forwards that motivated him just as much as the adrenaline did. After being lied and manipulated like a puppet by Elektra King before Renard had set the record straight in a hostile takeover to steal some weapons grade plutonium where he wasn't meant to survive in the first place, James had no intention of letting Elektra live. Beyond the fact she was now an extreme psychopath, she was also treating this whole thing like a game. Elektra was like a deranged child, always willing to kill and play dangerous games designed to torture and to kill, and yet she always showed herself up as an innocent victim whilst being as flirtatious and as brazen as she could get away with. It had worked well with him, James was angry enough to admit.
Usually he was compelled by that kind of woman, but even James had scruples, and he felt nothing for her, not anymore. After saving Christmas's life and meeting Renard for the first time in person despite knowing of the terrorist, so many things had clicked in his brain about the kidnapping case. He glanced up the stairwell to find her. Elektra wasn't hard to spot; she might have a significant headstart after Valentine had freed him from that chair she had tried to use to break his neck and some of her men had come to slow him down, but her long dress was easy to spot from where he was, but what did she plan to do? She had no where to go since she was rushing to the top of the tower, so why bother running unless she was thinking this was just a romantic game of chase. Her swift mood change surprised James after experiencing some of the anger locked away inside her petite body when she'd twisted that screw deeper into his neck.
It was so strange - most of the so called masterminds turned out to be men; contrary to what M had said to him a few years ago during that Goldeneye mess before he learnt of Alec's betrayal, he had nothing against women, many of the women who'd worked with him had proven stronger than other misogynistic dinosaurs, as M had called him, would've accepted. Granted, some of the things he did say to them might be construed as sexual discrimination, but truthfully it was just concern. Once they'd proven to him that they could handle the stress and general grief that followed him around like a puppy, he opened up to them more. But Elektra….. James wondered as he ran higher up the tower whether or not she had a secret way out of the tower, reminded vividly of the secret walkways and passages he'd encountered during his career, and hoped he wouldn't have to deal with another one even if the tower itself was old enough; it was the dawn of the new millennium, surely that sort of thing was relegated to those books where fireplace niches were all the rage. But if this place was old enough, then Elektra may have found one, or Renard.
Thankfully most of the masterminds he'd dealt with in the recent past - Alec and Janus and Carver had been more high tech, but was Elektra the same? Either way he'd find out soon. Other things were on his mind as well - where was M? He knew she was here somewhere, unless of course either Renard or Elektra had killed her already. Where was the submarine they planned to destroy with the weapons grade plutonium? It was likely to be close since neither Renard or Elektra would want it to be too far away where they couldn't get access to it. Besides Valentine had hinted there was some type of submarine pen here on the island, he would need to find it. And fast. And lastly was Christmas alright? While he personally doubted the terrorists would try to kill her because it wouldn't get them anywhere; she might be unwilling to help in their plan to destroy Istanbul since she knew what would happen, but even Renard wasn't stupid enough to kill a nuclear physicist even if he was sure he knew what he was doing. Christmas's knowledge of nuclear physics would make the meltdown easier to achieve, but she would probably cause an accident to happen, some failure or other to make their plan impossible or she would slow them down.
Pushing aside all thoughts of the feisty nuclear physicist out of his mind, James ran on. This was not the time. He'd just turned a corner on the stairwell when he heard Elektra call from above. "James, you can't kill me, not in cold blood," she shouted all the way down to him, and he could see the smirking delight on her face, it was the same psychotic glee she'd had in her eyes that had disturbed him when he'd pleaded with her to listen, and to not destroy Istanbul with the submarine. Her refusal to listen, her rants about the injustices of her life at the hands of her father, how all the oil belonged solely to her and her family, and how her own father deserved to die for refusing to pay the ransom which eventually meant nothing to Renard after the Stockholm syndrome had kicked in, and now this showed James that Elektra was beyond saving. For a moment he wondered just what had made Renard care in his own psychotic way for Elektra before he shoved the thought firmly out of his skull as he started chasing after Elektra. Plus he was tired of the sound of her voice after having it ringing inside his skull when he was in that chair when he could feel that screw being driven into his neck.
There was nothing to save, but that didn't mean it wouldn't at least hurt to try and get through to her. There might still be enough of the Elektra before she'd been kidnapped by Renard there for him to work with, but he had his doubts. He'd tried and he'd nearly had his neck snapped as a result. But this time he was free, he was mobile and he was armed, though she could be armed herself. Her words echoed figuratively and literally around the tower though, and their implication angered him, and spurned him on. He'd just reached another level and was about to go higher when another woman's shout caught his attention. "BOND!" It was M. So she was still alive, at least she hadn't been hurt. Ignoring the irritation he'd been put off the chase for another minute, he rushed into the room where the call had come from. M was standing behind a caged door. He held up his gun and ignoring his boss's cowering away aimed it towards the padlock and shot it.
The padlock split open in a flurry of sparks, but he kept going without stopping to say a word. He didn't have time to wait for M to come out, or open the door for her himself like he'd normally have done. He still had to get to Elektra, and besides M would understand how important the mission was, either way he simply didn't care. The higher he went the simple, unfinished, decayed brickwork faded into a luxurious finish like the ground floor, but he didn't have time to reflect on the builder's choice for decoration. James was surprised to find Elektra just standing there in the bedroom, not even trying to find some way to escape when he finally stopped running and just panted with exertion and anger, just looking at him with that same expression of pure arrogance and cruel triumph behind that childlike facade of hers. She wasn't even trying to defend herself even if a part of her must have acknowledged the fact he'd probably kill her, but if it had occurred to her then she'd chosen to ignore it. Her manner annoyed Bond even more; it was as though they were 2 lovers playing a childish game of tag and he was cornering her, and she was getting ready to run off out of the way again. But this was no game, and somewhere deep in Elektra's warped skull she knew that. Her psychopathy just wouldn't accept it. Her chest was heaving from the effort of the climb, but James ignored any feelings of arousal; if he could kill Xenia Onatopp after resisting her charms, her talents and her beauty and replace it with what was underneath when he realised what kind of woman she really was, he could easily deal with Elektra who didn't hold a candle when it came to the type of madness Xenia had represented. Elektra had worked hard to hide the woman she'd become whereas Xenia had never hidden her sexual madness from anyone, but Elektra was more dangerous than the insane ex Janus henchwoman could ever have been.
She was like a chameleon, hiding her true self from the world.
Or a Black Widow spider, just waiting for the next unsuspecting male to be ensnared in her web.
For a moment he just stood there, at the top of the stairwell, holding his gun up pointing at her. He was panting, the ache in his shoulder pushed to the side as he gazed at the woman in front of him. Elektra wasn't even frightened of the gun, though she knew it was there. After the moment wore off, James took out the radio he'd picked up and dropped his stance and held it out for her to take, he decided to give her one more chance.
James had no real idea why he was trying to make her turn her back on Renard when it was clear she was a sufferer of Stockholm syndrome, but he had to try. It was rare he tried to be merciful, but sometimes people wanted power for the sake of it, and they could be talked down if given a chance. "Call him off," he instructed quietly to recover some of his energy from his run and to keep his anger firmly and tightly under control. To his relief Elektra did take the radio out of his hand, and it reignited hope that she still had some kind of conscience inside her psychotic personality, but when she just stood there quietly, that same arrogant knowing smirk on her face, he began to lose his temper. He wasn't angry with her refusal to change, he was angry with himself for giving her this chance in the first place when he already knew she was beyond saving, though he knew he'd have to try it. But he was more furious with her for smirking like that at him, and for thinking that she knew him when she knew next to nothing about him at all. Finally he lost patience with her. "I won't ask again," James got out even as he fought against his raging temper. "Call him off," he ground out knowing he was repeating himself, but despite everything Elektra had put them through - him, Valentine, the submarine crew, Christmas, M, and lastly her father, she was still a girl. After a few seconds of seeing that same smirk on her face, James finally lost the battle with his temper. "CALL HIM OFF!" He shouted in her face, and he couldn't even bring himself to care when she visibly flinched at the shout.
Still, at least it pulled her together, and she lifted the radio to her mouth after looking at him in disbelief. "Renard," she said into the radio, and then held the radio away whilst they waited for the terrorist to reply. "You wouldn't kill me," she whispered coquettishly before adding in a seductive whisper, "you'd miss me." Bile rose in James's throat when she smiled at him, the thought behind that smile made him feel sick. She genuinely believed that he couldn't hurt her because he loved her?
After everything she had done, she didn't even try to look beyond her crimes, how she'd personally been responsible for too many deaths already, and was prepared to be the accomplice/instigator - he didn't know which had come up with the idea, and he didn't care - to the murder of millions in a city that was unlucky enough to be so strategic to her oil plans. James could admit to himself that Elektra had been amazing; the innocence in her had hidden the seductress who'd been playful in bed, and he'd admired her strength of will, and her ability to compromise and to negotiate and to reassure locals her oil pipe wouldn't destroy their way of life, but he had to see her for the psychopath she had become after her kidnap. She loved a murderous fanatic who would soon be dead anyway thanks to that bullet shot into his brain, so where would that leave her if she was allowed to live? Surely she knew he was dying? Bond had a feeling that even if Renard died and she got away, even if by now news of her actual nature had been circulated when she'd kidnapped M, Elektra wouldn't care. She was locked inside her head, lost in a fantasy of oil, and he was sure she had a plan to get away before the meltdown. Her words that he'd miss her almost made him scoff; he missed dozens of women who'd entered his life, only for him to leave because of his duty. The sound of breathing and feet running up the stairs had him turn his head slightly though he kept his eyes focused on Elektra incase she tried something. Somehow he wasn't surprised to see it was M. She was a little bit red faced from her unaccustomed exercise, but seemed alright.
"Yes?" Renard's low voice stopped her from saying anything. Elektra brought the radio closer to her lips, and James hoped she had enough sense to at least talk him out of the plan. He should've known better than to get his hopes up. "Dive!" she shouted into the radio. "Bond-" James raised the gun and shot her in the chest; he briefly registered a look a shock pass over Elektra's face, but he pushed it aside as the bullet sent her flying back onto the bed. He had better things to do with his time than care what some insane girl thought. He lowered his gun hand, disgust filling him. Disgust at Elektra filled him, and her inability to truly see reality past her own little games and her anger at the world, disgust at her father for not paying the ransom for which he paid the price despite M's recommendation, and disgust at Renard filled him as well. But he was disgusted in himself for letting Elektra get too close to him. "I never miss," he whispered, sighing. "I thought you were going to say something to her," he said to M without turning to face her.
M walked over to him, not taking her eyes off Elektra's body on the bed. "I said everything I needed to say to her earlier," she said quietly, gazing at the dead body on the bed with pain and regret. "Nothing I said had any impact on her. She refused to listen to me, so I just gave up. It's hard trying to speak to somebody when they talk about killing you. What did they have in mind? Renard and Elektra were vague about whatever it is they're planning," M looked directly at James, noting the look of genuine regret and nonchalance at what he'd just done, but an acceptance. Briefly James explained what was happening, and M listened in horror to the lengths Elektra had been willing to go to ensure the King pipeline succeeded, but before she could say anything they heard a wail from a klaxon. It was coming from the window, well at least he knew where the submarine was. James glanced at M for a moment before making up his mind, and he headed for the window. "Go, 007. Stop Renard," M encouraged. Still walking towards the window James spoke without turning, "You'd better get out of here, M. There should be a boat down there. Just use it, and try to get to the British embassy." M bit her lip, wondering how on Earth she was expected to find her way around Istanbul, but she nodded. James continued, "One of Zukovsky's men must still be alive to get you to the shore. If not, then just take the boat that brought them here, and use that. Good luck." M took a brave breath, now on firmer ground. "Good luck to you too, 007-James," M replied. James nodded and smiled at her before standing on the rail, and mentally summoned his energy for the jump. He looked down and saw the submarine. The conning tower was almost underwater, if he was going to do this now... He jumped off the rail.
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