Disclaimer - I don't own the rights to any trademarks within.
A/N – The following is based on the James Bond fan movie "A New Way to Die" that I made with some friends at school. The "prose" version is based on my script without the accommodations I had to make for my actors or for the sake of what we could realistically do. So this is the version with the better "special effects" added back in. Also, I've attempted to be just a little bit more in step with the style of the literary Bond, with largely the feel of the cinematic Bonds.
Ian Fleming's James Bond 007
in
"A New Way to Die"
At the Castle Bloodhaven, located in the Austrian Alps, Double Oh Four of MI6 stood on the balcony, watching the gala below, and contemplated her code number. Double Oh Four was the handle she preferred to go by when dealing with her colleagues. Her given name seemed too much like an immature knock knock joke, and the men who found out about it always had a field day.
"Knock, knock." "Who's there?" "Iva." "Iva who?" "Iva Hotbod."
In a few minutes, Professor Wolfgang Koehler would assume the podium, and he would begin his lecture on his recent discoveries in the fields of genetics and pharmaceuticals. But in reality, the lecture was just a ruse. The idea was to get Koehler in the proximity of the nearby MI6 safe house, which he would be escorted to as soon as he finished his speech. Double Oh Four was one of the agents assigned to make sure the relocation went smoothly. One of the agents.
She knew whose show this was really. She was merely back-up. The famous Double Oh Seven was on the case. Double Oh Four considered this with more than a small amount of resentment. Even as an agent in the exclusive Double Oh section, one of the few women on the Service who had been granted a license to kill, she was a woman in a man's world. She was only there to see that things ran smoothly, along with Remington, a standard intelligence op. This was Double Oh Seven's operation.
She saw him now. He was wearing that ridiculous white dinner suit that had gone out of style in the 60's. Yet, though she was loathe to admit it, he managed to look good in it. As she squirmed uncomfortably in her navy blue evening gown, being more accustomed to working plain clothes jobs, Double Oh Seven moved about in his formal wear as if he had born in it. He moseyed over to her as comfortably as if he had been attending the gala as a mere social event.
"The snow is a new shade of white."
"It will never melt," Double Oh Four responded, completing the recognition code. "It's about time you showed up, Double Oh Seven."
"I was just freshening up a bit," Double Oh Seven replied. "Is he here, Double Oh Four?"
She pointed and he trained a pair of tiny binoculars, similar to those used by opera attendees, on the elderly scientist.
"He'll be stepping up to the podium soon," Double Oh Four said. "We're to escort him out immediately following the speech. The formula he's carrying must not fall into the wrong hands."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
James Bond brought his head back from the pair of binoculars he was wearing and looked at the beautiful young woman beside him. The drab navy blue dress she was wearing looked less expensive than the other guests' extravagant outfits, but it was tight in all the right places and showed off a great deal of the woman's long, shapely legs. Bond looked into her blue eyes and saw a great deal of resentment there. This didn't seem to be the type of operation she was used to participating in. He guessed she had just recently received her Double Oh designation.
Bond looked through his binoculars again and scanned the crowd. His vision came to rest on a peculiar man who seemed to be in a foul mood. He was a tiny man, not much taller than five feet, with thinning black hair and coke bottle glasses. The man was arguing with a more physically fit man with medium-length blonde hair.
Bond adjusted the focus on his binoculars and could see the tell-tale bulge of a weapon beneath the blonde's dinner jacket.
"He's armed."
"You'd better go investigate."
Bond slipped the binoculars into the coat pocket of his white dinner jacket.
"Who's the other operative?"
"Remington," Double Oh Four said.
"I've met Remington. Dandy chap. Be sure and say hello for me. By the way, rather garish earrings you're wearing."
Double Oh Four sighed.
"The radio receiver's inside."
Bond removed a pair of sunglasses from another of his coat pockets and slipped them on.
"Mine's in the left earpiece. The transmitter?"
"Bracelet," Double Oh Four said, lifting a delicate hand so Bond could see the pearls around her wrist.
"Cufflink," Bond responded. "Good old Q, eh?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Double Oh Four slowly approached Professor Wolfgang Koehler. The elderly scientist looked nervous, and understandably so.
"Professor Koehler," Double Oh Four said gently, trying to be disarming, "I'm Agent Iva Hotbod. I'm with MI6. Come on."
She took him by the arm and gently began leading him towards the exit.
"The formula," Koehler stammered. "I'd only intended it for good. I never thought of it's other applications! It must be kept from…"
"Not here, professor," she said sternly. "We need to get you some place safe."
A man in an expensive evening suit, with a silk cravat and a van dyke beard, was smoking a tiny cigarette by the exit.
"The snow is a new shade of white," he said.
"It will never melt," Double Oh Four said. And she breathed a sigh of relief. "You must be Remington."
"Good evening, Agent Hotbod."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The cellar of the castle was like a maze, and Bond cursed himself for giving the blonde man too much of a head start. Bond's target and simply vanished.
Bond raised his cufflink to his mouth to say something to Double Oh Four, but then he dropped it. He'd noticed something on the floor. Something red.
Bond didn't need to study it hard. It was a streak of blood, leading to a closed door around the corner. Bond held his breath, removing his standard sidearm, the Walther PPK, from his shoulder holster and quickly screwing a silencer on. He then leaned around the corner and pushed the door in. There was a loud groan.
The room was empty, except for one man Bond recognized in an expensive suit with a van dyke beard. He was covered in burns and deep lacerations and struggling against the cords that bound him to an uncomfortable wooden chair. Bond kneeled down in front of him and removed the gag from his mouth.
"Remington?"
"James," the other man said weakly. "I'm sorry. He tortured me."
James quickly brought the cufflink to his mouth.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Double Oh Four, I've found Remington! He's been tortured!"
Panic filled Double Oh Four's heart. She'd been close enough to the imposter Remington that he could hear Double Oh Seven's voice emitting from her earring.
"Tough break, my pretty," the fake Remington said.
Two large men grabbed her from behind, as the fake Remington smirked and two others grabbed a panicked Wolfgang Koehler. They dragged the scientist towards a truck as she was dragged the other way.
Just then, Double Oh Seven burst from the castle, firing his pistol and catching one of the thugs holding Double Oh Four in the heart. The two holding Koehler released him, leaving the imposter Remington to deal with strapping Koehler into the passenger seat of the truck. The thugs tackled Double Oh Seven as the remaining goon dragged Double Oh Four back into the castle.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Bond hit one of the thugs over the head with his gun. The other tried to wrench it out of Bond's hands. As they struggled, both lost grip of the Walther, and the gun flew through the air and landed in a tool box that had been left open by a shoddy truck.
Bond grabbed one of the men by the neck and forced their head into a stone fence. He turned around and delivered a karate chop to the other man's neck, stunning him. He then grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off his feet, throwing him over the wall. Bond heard a scream as the man tumbled down the mountain.
The man whose head had collided with the wall was now recovering. Bond backed up as the man reached for a gun. Turning, Bond dove for the toolbox that his gun had landed on. Before he could reach the gun, his hand came to rest on a screwdriver. Bond grabbed it and hurtled it into his attacker's body. The man stood with a blank expression on his face, stunned that the tip had penetrated his chest. Bond stood up and drove the screwdriver deeper in.
"I'll bet that screwed you up," he quipped as the man collapsed and died.
Bond looked to and from the castle. The fake Remington and Koehler had gone in one direction. The goon and Double Oh Four had gone in the other. Bond ran towards the castle.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Double Oh Four struggled to break free of the thug's grip as he dragged her to the edge of the balcony she had met Double Oh Seven on, but he was stronger than her. He pushed her over the ledge and then ran.
Double Oh Four felt herself hurtling towards the ground. Then, suddenly, it stopped. She opened her eyes, ready to face whatever judgment existed in the world after. Instead, she saw Double Oh Seven grinning at her.
His knees were buckling, yet somehow he had managed to catch her before she hit the ground.
"Glad you could drop in, Double Oh Four," he said.
"Please, Double Oh Seven" she said. "My name is Hotbod. Iva Hotbod."
"Well, my name is Bond. James Bond."
A/N - This is set in modern day. The reason Bond is using a PPK rather than a P99 is because it's more old school like that, and that's how I prefer it.