Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Bodies.

There were bodies everywhere. Their abdomens were riddled with bullets. Pools of blood congealed around the corpses. A sea of red. Eyes remained open- glassy and staring off into nowhere. Blair whimpered. Her bottom lip trembled. She let out a scream and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. The entire room was littered with corpses and the debris from the furniture that had been destroyed by countless bullets.

Her stomach churned at the sight of all the mangled bodies and the smell of the blood was making her head spin. Blair closed her eyes as her mind began searching for ideas for what to do. She had been brought up to deal with a million situations, yet being surrounded by a dozen dead bodies had never been one of them. Tears started to drip down the sides of her face.

"Oh God, what do I do?" Blair cried, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "What do I do, what do I do?" Blair repeated over and over again. Her knees got weak and unable to support her own weight, she fell to the floor. She landed in a pool of blood and found herself collapsed over one of the dead bodies. Blood went everywhere. It dampened the ends of her hair and stained her skirt. She raised her blood-covered hands to her face in shock. Blair began to shriek with horror as she frantically tried to wipe the blood from her hands onto her blouse.

There was a buzz. Blair froze at the sound of someone's phone ringing on silent. She felt the buzzing coming from the body she had fallen on to. Adjusting her body position to be facing the body, she placed her hands under him and began trying to flip the corpse over. Blair finally managed to flip the body over to reveal the dead man's face. His eyes were dark and his expression angry. He wasn't one of her father's men. Still, she carefully lifted the front of his jacket and reached into the inner pocket.

Blair drew out the phone which continued to incessantly buzz. Caller ID flashed the name "Boss" across the screen. Blair quickly pressed down on the end-call button. The phone stopped buzzing. Blair closed her eyes again. She tried to take a deep breath but struggled to since her body kept shaking. She exhaled as slowly and steadily as she could before taking another breath. Eventually her breathing calmed and her heart rate returned to normal. Turning on the phone, Blair punched in the only numbers that came to mind.

837-9266-1100

"They're dead." The words flew out of Blair's mouth as soon as they answered.

"Confirm that the line is secure," the gruff voice on the other end replied.

"Did you not hear me? They're all dead!" Blair looked around the room, trying to identify the ones who had been assigned to protect her. She had known them for less than a week and never really studied their faces.

Still the voice on the other end asked again, "Agent, confirm that this line is secure!"

"I'm not an agent and I don't have time for your all your protocol, dammit. This is fucking Blair Waldorf and I'm telling you that all your men are dead!" Blair yelled into the phone. The loudness of her voice surprised her as her words echoed of the walls. An eery silence fell over the room reminding Blair that she was the only one alive. There were a few minutes of silence.

"Do not move your location. We are sending Air Evac right now."

The phone slipped from Blair's fingers and into a puddle of blood. Turning her head away from the body, Blair began to vomit.

"You were supposed to be promoted today."

A thin manila folder dropped in front of Chuck. Top Secret was stamped across the front in bright red ink. Chuck slid the folder closer to him and opened it. A smal square photo of him was attached to the left side with a paperclip. The picture was from almost five years ago when Chuck started off with a desk job. On the right side was a single sheet of typed paper. Chuck's eyes quickly scanned the page. Name, date of birth, height, weight, years active... the paper was just a profile. At the very bottom though, the last line was noticeably different to any profile of his that Chuck had ever seen.

Status: 009

Fucking hell. Double-O. Chuck could hardly believe it. Had he really just earned his place in the most elite branch of MI6 and the licence to kill? This was what all agents dreamed of. Chuck read it again and again. 009. It had a nice ring to it... He had only heard of a few double-O's, mostly through rumors. Their missions were dangerous and the identities of the agents were mostly kept hidden from the rest. Chuck paused.

"Wait, did you just say I was supposed to be promoted?" Chuck flipped the folder close, a sense of anxiety starting to gnaw at his insides.

M leaned back into his seat. "Well, if you hadn't failed your tests, maybe there would have been hope for you."

"That's bullshit, I passed all my tests." Chuck's mind recounted the most recent round of tests meant to assess his physical, mental, and medical health. He was in excellent shape and his marksmanship was practically flawless. It had been a waste of six hours but a new batch of tests were required every six months.

M bent over to open his file cabinet. He withdrew another folder, one marked with Chuck's name followed by Test Results. "While you passed your physical examination with ease and there has been no change in your medical condition, you did manage to somehow fuck things up with your psychological evaluation."

Chuck squinted, trying to remember the details of the mental test. Yes, there had definitely been more parts to the test last time. It irked him at the time that it was delaying the process but he had never thought of it afterwards. "What do you mean I failed my evaluation. I passed every other time, didn't I?"

"Well, you see, it seems you've developed some rather nasty habits over the years of being in the field. It says here that you display a lack of maturity, impulsiveness, and potentially addictive behavior. It's rather obvious why you can't be a double-O agent, isn't it?"

"So is that why you called me in? To tell me that I could've been double-O if it hadn't been for a stupid test? That if I hadn't made bad decisions out in the field, that I could've promoted?" Anger started to build up inside of Chuck.

"We can't risk any agent, especially one of double-O status, to be out in the field with such an abysmal mental evaluation. It's simply a liability this agency cannot afford."

"So, what are you just going to demote me then? Stick me back in the office?" Chuck looked down in shame, unable to make eye contact. "Father," his voice came out raspy. "Please, let me prove myself."

"No, you are not being demoted. And yes, I will let you prove yourself. As a double-O agent."

Chuck looked up.

M nodded. He tore the mental evaluation from the folder and held it over the rubbish bin. He set one of the edges on fire using a lighter and let the flame spread for a few seconds. He dropped the paper into the bin to finish burning.

"I hoep you realize that by doing this I am putting both myself and you at incredible risk."

Chuck nodded.

"Come in first tomorrow morning to receive your mission."

Chuck stood up and headed towards the door.

"And Agent 009..."

Chuck stopped and turned.

"...don't fuck this up."

A/N: So, I may or may not have been very heavily influenced by the recent James Bond movie. I just couldn't bring myself to give Chuck 007 though. The thought of Chuck speaking in Ed's regular accent made up for it. Leave a review if you are inclined. x