007 Bond the Hedgehog: Blood Feud
Chapter 1: Infiltraion:
Hello all and welcome to the new story of mine.
The idea came to me whilst in the middle of a chat with Lisa the Cat. I'm excited about the revival of Goldeneye 007 for Wii, and I was hoping to convey my love for Ian Flemming's MI6 operative extraordinaire with my base of Sonic the Hedgehog writing.
So I came up with the idea of setting up an alternate universe combining the two. Here, Mobians and humans live alike in countries of our universe. GUN is the United Nations, except slightly more militaristic. The Cold War still happened, and all tensions remain between all countries. Oh, and Afghanistan is still invaded by ISAF, except the invasion force is made up of Mobians are humans alike. That's about all you need to know.
So please, read, review and enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing besides the plot. The idea for Bond the Hedgehog and other characters go to Ian Flemming and Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios. I own none of the firearms mentioned, they are property of their respective owners. All brands mentioned are owned by their distributors. I own none of the aircraft portrayed in this story, they are property of their corporations and manufacturers. Any combat system is property of its owners and manufacturers. Any naval ship mentioned is property of its respective navy and shipbuilder. All military vehicles mentioned are property of the manufacturers and owners. Any country mentioned in this story or my alternate universe is property of itself. Finally, any music used for inspiration or mentioned is property of its artist and their label.
AND NOW WE BEGIN!
The valley was dark, even for the middle of the night. Dark clouds blocked out the usually bright moon, and the little light came from the far away twinkle of the control tower on the abandoned airfield. Weeds overgrew the cracked tarmac, and the occasional mouse or rat broke from the safety of the high grasses on the side to make a suicidal run across the tarmac, as the dark shadows of owls passed overhead, occasionally diving to cash in on the foolishness of the rodents.
The young Mobian coughed and watched his breath turn to vapor in front of his eyes. He shifted his weight so that he might get a bit more support against the tree as he tried to once again to relieve itch in his foot with the barrel of his assault rifle. He shivered; the wind bit at his flesh even with a thick combat coat and his fur standing in its way. Dull blue eyes scanned fruitlessly over the airfield in an attempt to find a runaway GUN personnel who would try to escape after the initial massacre.
His victim lay sprawled on his stomach. Blonde hair spilling even under the GUN helmet, his eyes were closed, head tilted to the side and his arms were tilted at various angles across the earth. Had it not been for the multiple small holes spewing blood in his chest armor, he could have been mistaken for sleeping.
The black-clad Tasmanian Devil sneered at the human. For too long they had tried to control the world and the Mobians within it, now it was their turn. The ORGANIZATION would take down Station Square, enslave the human race and finally prove the worth of the animal race. Conflicts like Afghanistan and the Congo would be irrelevant as the two races turn on each other. Any Mobian standing in their way would be-
He could not finish the thought, for the second he had let his guard down, a shadow had slipped down from the tree branches above, quietly stepped up behind him and grabbed him by the throat.
The Devil fought as hard as he could, twisting and squirming. His opponent, however, was trained in such and simply used the momentum generated by his victim's thrashing to throw his into the side of the tree.
The last thought that ran through the rebel's head was whether he would go to Hell after sending his parents there.
One sickening crunch later, he found out.
The assailant stretched out his hands and after careful consideration, removed his mask. Blue-grey eyes looked with contempt upon his victim, but returned to their hardened state after he saw the dead soldier. Quickly, he kneeled and patted down the body of the rogue, before settling on grabbing an identity card and several rounds of ammunition for the rifle. He cocked it and set an eye down the sight. It was a modified AK-103, equipped with a laser sight, silencer and under barrel grenade launcher. What a rebel was doing with equipment like this worried the agent.
He quickly scanned the identity card with his smartphone. The screen went white for a second, before showed a profile of the Devil. Named Saturn, he was an angry young youth who had mysteriously murdered his whole family before disappearing off the radar for several years.
The phone suddenly buzzed, and the assailant lifted it to his ear.
"Agent 007?" an elderly female voice asked on the other end.
"Yes?" the agent answered.
"We've got you on our satellite. It's good to see you're alive. Your contact told you everything, correct?"
He was silent for a second, "He did."
"Good, because I want you to forget everything you heard. There's a newer, more pressing matter on hand."
The agent was silent once again, but before he could reply, a twig snapped nearby. He threw himself to the ground, watching the air in front of him.
"Bond? Are you there?" This time, there was hint of concern in the address.
"Listen, I'll have to call you back M. I've got company." he whispered into the phone.
"Ugh, not this aga-" the rest of M's transmission was cut off as he hung up.
The second the conversation ended, two more soldiers staggered through. From their raucous laughter, stumbling posture and the fact they were holding bottles of obviously ill-gotten vodka, Bond could tell they were stone dead drunk. They passed quietly, and Bond let out a sigh of relief, but sucked it back in once the two came back.
One of them, a brown cat, pointed at the dead rebel and laughed, "Hah, Saturn's sleeping on the job again!"
The other one, a grey wolf, stumbled over to the dead GUN soldier, "You damn Homo, how do you like your afterlife?" With that, he drew back his head, hawked and spat on the face of the dead soldier.
That was all the motivation the hedgehog needed. A former soldier, he knew the one thing you NEVER, EVER did was disrespect an enemy soldier after death. That was for barbarians and immature teenagers. Snapping up to one knee, he drew the AK-103 seamlessly into position on his shoulder, as a red dot appeared on the wolf. Lining up the end of the barrel with the back of the wolf, he killed him with a quick shot through the heart. The rebel fell to his knees, and collapsed over the soldier, bleeding not unlike he was.
The cat, after initially looking confused at his friend falling dead, quickly figured out what was happening, even in a drunken state of mind and whirled on Bond's position, hand reaching for the automatic at his hip. His drunken state prevented him from getting a firm grip, however, before the laser was on him and he was taken out in a similar fashion.
Bond slid in a fresh round into the rifle, impressed at the effectiveness of the silencer, then grabbed the gun off the dead cat. He quickly analyzed it to be a Walther PPK, his classic choice. "Nice to have an old friend on my side." he muttered with a smirk, holstering it.
Barrel ahead, he made his way across the edge of the airfield, cautiously watching for any guards, and disposing of any he managed to get behind. Eventually, he got the main facility, where he discovered bits and pieces of what had once been a GUN convoy and C-130 cargo plane. Burned out HMMWV's lay scattered around, their occupants' remains charred and blackened. Several were also lying dead a short distance away, as if they had gotten out to fight, but were cut down. They lay where they fell, islands in a lake of blood and gasoline.
Bond took cover behind one of the broken vehicles. There, as he sat heavily against the passenger door with his knees drawn up, he checked out the ammo on his firearms and finally fully removed his mask. He had a tan muzzle, scruffy and unkempt at the moment, his blue eyes and short golden quills, once again unkempt. Unsure of where to put his mask, he searched himself for an empty pocket. When he turned his head to the left, however, he found himself staring at a face.
He jerked away from it, before realizing this was an unlucky sod that was killed by the rebels. As he cautiously inched towards it, he could define the soldier's feature as Asian. His helmet had been knocked off, and a small hole in his head, no bigger than a dime oozed blood.
Unimpressed, Bond tossed the mask over the face to cover it up. Sliding up into a crouch, he carefully made his way into the cargo bay. It had been doted with bullet holes, and there were plenty of dead GUN soldiers here as well. What intrigued Bond, however, was the special carrying rack that had been installed. It looked like was created to carry barrels. Lowering his finger for a second, he ran a finger along the metal until he felt a series of bumps. Lowering himself to investigate, he saw that the metal had been punched out in a series of serial numbers that read 84967385.
Grabbing his smartphone, he quickly took a picture of it. Dialing M, he got to her on the second ring.
"What's the matter Bond?" M didn't actually sound too concerned for the moment.
"I just need a quick analyses on a serial number I'm sending you." he began, quickly hitting the send button on the phone, "Also, I need details on recent GUN activity in and around Vasily Air Base. I think we might have som-"
A chatter of automatic gunfire interrupted him as bullets struck the metal beside him. Instincts kicked in and he dove behind an empty barrel. Mentally cursing himself for letting his guard down, he peered out slightly. Four rebels armed with AEK-971's stood at the end of the boarding ramp, rifles trained along the storage facility. They slowly began moving their way up, keeping their guns trained.
The agent sat back, closed his eyes, breathing heavily. Once he was ready, his eyes snapped open and he prepared himself. As soon as he saw a pair of combat boots stomp by him, he swept a foot out and tripped the guard. The heavily armed rebel fell hard, his rifle underneath him. Bond was immediately on top of him, and dispatched of him with a swift blow to the neck.
The other three shouted and ran over to check on their fallen comrade. The first one to appear on the end of the aisle fell to Bond's pistol the second he entered view. The second followed suit. The third one, however, managed to get his rifle up and fire a bullet at the hedgehog. Leaning to one side, the agent dodged it and cracked off a round in return from his Walther. It struck its target just below the collarbone, and he fell with a cry.
Lifting his phone once again, he continued his conversation, "I think we may have something here."
"Is this going to always be your excuse for interrupting up on girls?" M inquired dryly, before hanging up herself.
Bond gathered his rifle and quickly exited the aircraft. There was increased activity around the decimated convoy, and it took a lot of his training and skill to reach the hanger. However, once he did, he slipped inside through a side door.
The first thing he noticed was the perfect formation of SU-27's and MIG-29's lined up inside the hanger. The fighters were lined up in an arc, six overall. Each carried a heavy armant of R-73 and R-77 missiles. All looked well maintained and upgraded to current Russian standards.
"Not so abandoned after all." thought the hedgehog dryly, before his buzzing phone interrupted him.
M cut straight to the chase. "Bond, this is important, so listen up."
"You have my ears."
"GUN has recently been seizing chemical weapons from old Soviet states to keep down the level. They recently came across a facility in Siberia, abandoned, carrying a massive quantity of something known as Agent J. It's a nerve agent unlike any other in that it targets the brain, causing strokes within seconds of exposure. Most of it had been put under GUN control, however, that convoy you saw was the last of the deliveries. Bond? Are you there? Bond? Bond?"
The cellphone slipped out of his hand clattered to the floor as Bond felt the cold steel of a barrel press against his neck fur. His eyes widened and he inhaled sharply at the touch, but that was nothing compared to what came next.
"Hello James." crooned a familiar voice.
DUH DUH DUH!
What is the mysterious ORGANIZATION?
Who is the person pressing the gun against his head?
How will Agent 007 escape this one?
FIND OUT IN CHAPTER TWO OF AGENT 007: BOND THE HEDGEHOG!
A.N: No OC's are accepted for this story unless asked for, it will be a mainstream story.
Music used for inspiration:
Adam's Song: Blink-182
21 Guns: Green Day
Move Along: The All American Rejects
Anthem Part 2: Blink 182
Open Your Eyes: Sum 41