Moresvick Industries Storage House, Hong Kong, 11:46:25 PM:

Two guards walked back and forth among the rows of crates in the warehouse. They held their rifles loosely, across their chest. They were not expecting trouble.

On the roof of the warehouse, two shadowy figures stood in black, leather jump suits and dark sunglasses. Each held a machine gun in hand, with a pistol on their belts. They looked in through the ventilation shaft, scoping out the security. Finally, one of the figures quietly removed a cylindrical device, from their belt. The device was about six inches long and had a red button on the side. The figure held the device up to one of the screws on the vent cover and pressed the button. The screw flew out of its hole and stuck to the device. The figure pressed the button again and the screw fell onto the roof. The figure repeated this process again until the screen was free of its place over the vent. Then the figure climbed into the shaft, followed by its partner.

When the two figures reached the bottom of the shaft they looked down onto the warehouse. Seeing that the guards were not present, they let a rope down to the concrete floor, fifty feet below. As the first figured crawled down the robe, one of the guards walked out from behind a crate and looked up. He saw the intruder, but was taken off guard. The figure, whose form showed her to be a woman, slid quickly down the rope and wrapped her legs around the guard's head. Before the guard could cry out or shoot, he was strangled.

The first woman waited as the second figure, also a woman, slid to the ground.

"Well that was easy enough," the first woman said.

"There's one more guard around here s-," two machine gun shots rang out and the second woman fell dead. The first guard, Bond, ran after the girl.

The girl dashed out of the warehouse and jumped over the loading ramp, where a black SS Impala was parked. She got into the car and sped onto the street. James ran to where she had gotten into the car. He pulled a cellular phone out of his coat pocket and dialed *660. An Aston Martin DB 5 roared around the corner of the warehouse, and the door popped open. James jumped in and sped after the girl. He pressed a button on the stereo and the radio opened to reveal a GPS screen. He quickly spotted the car on the map and chased after it. He followed the vehicle onto the expressway. When the opposing driver spotted him she sped up and began weaving among traffic. James, however, would not be discouraged, and he also increased his speed. He drove right up next to the woman. He noticed only a small black marking of some kind on her neck. He took aim, seeing that the windows were not thick enough to be bullet proof. Just as his finger cam down on the trigger of his PK2, the woman drove the Impala into the Aston, and James's shot strayed into the air. The woman then sped up even further and dogged around a freight truck. James followed close behind. He saw the car pull off at an exit, but he couldn't get over into the next lane because of the truck. James drove by the exit and slowed to a normal speed. Suddenly, he drove across the median and caught up with the Impala, again. The driver saw James and looked left and right, desperately, as she became entangled in bikes and cars. James, too, became caught in the mess of traffic. He put his car on medium security and stepped out, onto the crowded street. Pushing, his way through the mass of people, he caught a glimpse of the car, and then lost it. By the time he got back to his car, the Impala was not to be found on his GPS.

James entered his hotel room to find a pleasant surprise. A woman. She was about five feet, nine inches tall, with a beautiful face and a nice petite, but erotically beautiful form. She was wearing a long, black dress that came down in the back and her hair was fixed into a bun. "What's your name?" James inquired. "Chii-in Yeou." "Well, I suppose that isn't why you're here is it? Do you speak English?" The woman answered neither of these questions. After a moment of silence, the woman turned around and began to shake her thighs temptingly. James smirked and moved in closer. He put his hands on her hips and moved up and down her figure. James slowly, softly moved his hands up to her shoulders and removed her dress. She was wearing black lingerie without a bra. James again moved his curious hands to cup her breasts. He toyed with her chest. "You look familiar," James said. "What is your name, again?" "Michelle Grant; we worked together in the Middle East." James pulled his pistol from his pocket and put it to her back. "Wrong answer," he said and shot her.