A/N: The following fanfiction is based on a nightmare I once had.
It was a beautiful warm late summer night on island of Ischia. James Bond was drinking his Martini and staring at last bright red trails of a sunset on a darkening sky from the lobby of a small hotel while he was waiting for another undercover meeting with local mafia boss. He wasn't particularly suspecting nor worried, because it was his zillionth similar procedure. In fact, Britain's greatest secret agent was very bored and impatiently waiting for conversation's end, so he can finally penetrate armpits of a lady he met on a beach that day.
Around 9:15 pm two shorter men in black suits came into a lobby. One was chubby and had a pattern hair loss, while the other one was scraggy, had a mullet and wore sunglasses on his disproportionally large head. They approached James.
"Good evening. You must be dr. Flavioli" - said the man with mullet and sunglasses.
"Yes, you're correct. My name is Flavioli. Richard Flavioli." - Bond answered.
"We're very excited to meet you" - said the balding guy - "I'm Giorgio Bianchi, and this is my colleague Bartolomeo. Come with us, consigliere Roberti is inviting you for a dinner in his cottage."
"Thank you. I'm looking forward" - replied James, and followed the cumbersome pair out of the hotel and into their car.
It seemed like everything was going like clockwork until the car suddenly stopped on a desolate beach, and soon another two vehicles arrived.
"So, we had a meeting with signore Flavioli yesterday" - spoke the mullet guy - "who sent you?"
"I cannot recall" - replied 007.
"Seems like your brain needs refreshing" - answered the chubby one.
Then the two armed guys pulled James out of the car, and led him to a cliff. One tall strong man with shaved head followed them. Once they stopped, he took an old handsaw out of a sheath, and pushed it on 007's head. After taking a deep breath, and releasing a threatening smirk, he proceeded to slowly pull James' hair of his head with a handsaw. The pain during the rough shearing was frustrating, but the real horror started when he proceeded to cut secret agent's skull. The process was very slow, as the bald maniac's rusty tool was getting stuck even more frequently then while cutting of the widest and toughest elm branches, causing the acute aching to increase after every sudden break. Blood started pulling out of the top of James' head, and the sound produced by friction was unbearable.
Screams of agony from James' mouth overpowered the eerie sounds of enhancing cool wind and waves hitting the cliff, since they were louder than sighs of pleasure of all the ladies he made happy combined. As the deadly saw progressed from skull to cortex, the pain became even more appalling, and the air protruding Bond's head made him feel freezing from inside. Massive amount of blood poured into his nose, and started choking him. Rough coughs began interrupting painful screeches that gained a significantly raspier timbre when James' vocal cords became weary.
Brain was easier to cut through than its skeletal protection, but since the handsaw was now dealing with broader area, it continued to stuck at a similar rate. As the death machine impacted various control centers, James' brain was gradually loosing its functions. He first lost the control over his movements, and after that all of his precious memories left his brain. Once his IQ was on a level of a person unable to take care of any aspect of his life, the only perception that remained in his mind was discomfort.
James was still alive and his mind was slowly shutting down when the bald sadist had to stop his action to clean the handsaw from the remains of brain tissues and to rest his arms a little. When the rest was over, he started steadily extinguishing Bond's senses. First tactile senses, then vision and hearing, and finally temperature and pain. A few minutes before James' heart stopped beating, he gradually came to a stage of unawareness well below passing out.
