I don't own neither James Bond or Digimon. This story is purely ficticious in what would be a version of Casino Royale with our digidestined as protagonists. It's purely entertainment, please enjoy!


Marc Cooper did his normal walk to his office. It was half past 1 AM. The streets of Budapest had been empty since one hour ago, especially in that neighborhood were there were mostly business buildings. His office was on the Szerégy Tower. He got out of the lift and walked through the carpeted path. There was no one in the corridors, louder than the silence only his steps. He opened his door and saw a man sitting at his chair, next to the shelf. Anderson hissed. He knew exactly what was happening, better than anyone he knew his sins. He heard a click and knew there was a gun pointed at him and lurking in the shadows. Marc smirked.

"How's M going?" he asked as he walked to his secretary. The window permitted some illumination form the lights of the city. The tip of the gun, decorated with a silencer showed itself whilst sticking out of the shadows. Anderson sat at his chair desk with a relaxed pose. Both men knew that none of them was actually relaxed. Just one of them would get out of that room alive. He stretched his fingers and was able to open a drawer, as it slid silently Marc saw the gun waiting for him.

"You've been a bad boy, Mr. Cooper" the intruder said. "You knew this was coming eventually."

Anderson took a look at his killer, A young blond man with deep blue icy eyes, who had no problem in handing that gun.

"How did you got to me; that is a story I'd like to hear."

"You left some loose ends…like your contact in Prague, for an example."

"What happened to Marcel?"

"Let's say he's the first 0" the blonde man coldly said.

"If I ever got to become chief of the department, I guarantee you that I would never allow the double 0 program."

"But you are not the chief of the department, so that makes things rough on your side".

Marc's hand quickly picked the gun. He could be old but the moves were still there, just like ridding the bike. His feet kicked the table and the office chair rolled back against the window. The gun was pointed at his killer, and Marc didn't think twice before pulling the damn trigger. The clicking sound echoed through the room, but no bullet was shot. The blonde men smiled. In his hand something twirled, it was the gun's charger.

"We never actually got a chance to know each other, Mr.…"

"Well, I know where you keep your gun. We don't need to meet".

"Maybe we did. Maybe I could tell what takes a man to betray his country. For an example, how you're treated…"

"Sins are sins! You don't have an excuse apart from gluttony" his killer said. Marc spared some seconds. There was some chance that telling the truth, telling how MI6 had treated him could save him.

"You should no…" Marc continued, he replaced his chair and positioned himself at the desk like the gun pointed to him had no impact whatsoever. "It comes to a time that…" Everything went blank for him. A bullet cracked up his skull between the eyes, his corpse fell from the chair and hit the floor.

"I 'm sorry, I don't like small talk".

You know his name...