When the elevator door opened on the basement floor the guard bore the same expression as every guard in every government building in the world. Grim.

Bond took two strides out of the elevator and observed the massive bank of monitors on the west wall, marvelling at the level of survellance going unnoticed by the general public. Felix was adamant that spys would be out of work in the next ten years, or repositioned as nothing more than trigger pullers. And only then because it's cheaper than drones. Bond was starting to agree.

In front of him was the bank of computers and IT personel charged with monitoring email activity, and through the glass partition he could see Q giving some young intern the standard safety talk procedure when dealing with live grenades. He stopped to watch and soon the practice dummys in the mock store front were propelled ceiling-ward and Q's face lit up with the satisfaction one only gets from blowing something up.

The fact that no heads turned when the grenade went off just proved the excellent sound-proofing of the glass partion. Ill have to get some for the flat, thought Bond.

He made his way passed the grim faced guard and down the stairs towards the back of the complex. Past the scienctists and analyst, past all the best and brightest young brains in Britian, and all he could see was the end of the line for him. An aging predator in a world with no need for sharp claws and big teeth. A soft world where paper work is more powerful than a PP9.

Q stood at the glass entrance, his fingerprint the key to give Bond entrance. An elderly man with a passion for tweed, Q had disobeyed orders to wear a white lab coat for thirty years, prefering to dress for Sunday dinner with his great aunt, regardless of where he went.

A soft noise, straight from Star Trek, accompanied the opening of the glass panel.

"Hows the new breed coming along Q? Training your own replacement?" said Bond with a wry smile.

"There isn't enough training in the world that can prepare them for dealing with you Bond."

"Just takes years of experience I suppose, something you have. Years and years and years of experience."

"Yes, well you seem content to cut my years short. Now listen up, this is your new Audi." Q turned from Bond towards a bright red sports car.

"An Audi? What happened to the Jags?" Asked Bond, an unpleasent look flickering across his face, before being replaced by his usual calm demenor.

"Well you keep destroying them. The last one we actually managed to recover had been stripped by Algerian rebels. Now, somewhere in Algiers, there is a old BMW fitted with a bastardised version of a mini rocket launcher." The unpleasent look had made its way across the room to Q's face, where it passed by in a few seconds to be replaced by the standard old senile gentlemen look.

"I thought all your gadgets came with a self destruct mode?" Asked Bond.

"They do, but it only works if you activate it, and since you never listen to a word I say, you've never learned how!" said Q, slamming his clipboard on the desk and turning to hide the red shade his cheeks had turned.

"Thats a bit harsh Q, I just don't have the time to activate it. Getting chased by Algerian rebels doesn't leave you with a lot of time to plan your next move or come back for loose ends."

"Yes, well, i've taken that into account here, and since i figure the chances of getting this car back in one piece are slim, I have taken the cheaper option. On this particular model there are fewer gadgets than your used to." He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, and unlocked the doors as Bond walked round him, admiring the sleek curves of the machine.

"So i'll have to use my charm and wit?"

"Yes, and i'm sure that will be a major task for you Bond. Now, once more, pay attention and i'll tell you what all this does." Q opened the car door and motioned for Bond to get in.

The plush seats yielded to Bonds slim frame and welcomed him in. The interior was pleasant, but nothing like he was used to. He could tell, no matter how nice this car was, he wouldn't love it like the old DB9 he left in a lake somewhere, maybe Switzerland.

"Why don't these cars come with a cigarette lighter anymore?" He asked, knowing Q wouldn't would take the bait. Well, he had to get his own back for having to drive this.

"No smoking in the car Bond, for crying out loud, you'll blow yourself up before anyone else gets the chance! " Bond could see Q going red again, the blood pressure must be rising, he thought with a smile.

"Guess that's why they don't fit them anymore." Chuckled Bond softly, almost to himself.

"Quiet and listen, this is an Audi TT, there are bullet proof windows and reinforced doors that can withstand the inpact from a scud missile..." Q started to say, before Bond cut in.

"I'm not sure they use them any... "

"I don't care Bond, listen, the wheels are self inflating should you get a flat." Said Q, turning away from Bond and moving over to his desk to pull open a drawer containing a small tube filled with pills.

"Hold on, is that all I get?" asked Bond, concerned they would be sending him into a Iraqi hellhole in a convertable with bulletproof windows. Might as well forgo the bulky chest armour too, since he thought it made him look fat anyway.

"That's all there is Bond, you keep destroying cars and we don't have the money to replace them. You destroyed a £100,000 Aston Martin 4 months ago." replied Q.

"Technically that was Serbian rebels."

"No, it was you driving into a Serbian rebel compound in a metallic silver Aston firing rockets and machine guns, it's not exactly the height of stealth espionage."

"Sometimes the most direct way is the best." said Bond, getting out of the Audi.

"Yes, well with that in mind ive had this Audi fitted with a new radar that should be able to pick up the heat transmittence of anyone in an average sized building and relay that to your phone, giving you an accurate read of all targets. Providing it doesn't get destroyed before you get inside." Q swallowed back some of pills and dropped the tube back into his desk drawer.

"Should be handy." Bond said this while moving to his right slightly, trying to get a better view into the desk of the Quartermaster.

"Quite, and since your infiltrating a German smuggling ring, you won't stand out too much driving up to the gate. How's your German accent?" Asked Q.

"Improving. I've been getting lessons from a schön mädchen I met in the pub. You know German women have this way they..."

"I don't care Bond. I just don't care." Said Q, slamming his desk drawer shut and walking away.