James Bond 007 in...
SPECTRE ATTACKS!
Chapter 1
"Well, Q, old man," called the quintessential, at least in his own uniquely skewed view, MI6 agent dressed as if he were currently on his way to some sort of ceremony, instead of Q-branch beneath MI6 headquarters at 85 Vauxhall Cross. "You and your white-smocked assistants certainly seem busier than usual. What's the occasion?"
"Bond," grumbled the man with the bushy eyebrows and slightly stooped stance and a shamed shake of his head. "Weren't you supposed to bloody be here an hour ago?"
As the well-dressed 007 swiftly relived the recent byplay with a mousy-brown haired, though still lovely, executive secretary named Ms. Jane Moneypenny, a ghost of a smile perilously close to a smirk dominating his handsome mien...
"Uh, I had an important meeting to attend prior to appearing before your austere Self, Q."
"Balderdash," snarled, almost merrily, the person everyone now readily referred to as Q, thanks to this sandy-haired, steely blue-eyed British operative. "Before you receive your next top secret assignment from M, 007, perhaps it would be prudent to take a look at the latest 'tricks of the trade', as it were, that could actually keep you alive long enough to complete your mission. This way please."
Once again, as 007 straightened his expertly knotted necktie, whilst training at least part of his magnificent multitasking mind to the few female technical assistants assigned to Q-branch that James would, indeed, deign to "date"...
"Here we have a few more of those extra-special wristwatches," Q proudly pointed out in regards to half-a-table containing neatly arranged wrist-worn timepieces as much "spy-master" paraphernalia as they were extremely expensive luxury articles: Omega, Rolex, Cartier, etc.
"And now," said Q with a slight sigh, much like a man with more on his proverbial plate than he had the time to adequately attend, "on to a few new entries in the 'gadget game'."
The two strode toward a secondary section of the below-level wing, as it were. The area around which quite a few smock-wearing individuals, with IQs no doubt damn near double that of the average man or woman, spend endless hours working out indubitably innovative devices.
"First, we have a very clever little item," Q quite ecstatically stated as he picked up a pen that, aside from the fact it was, indeed, an expensive implement for writing a letter to a loved one, seemed to be able to do little else.
Such was soon to be delightfully demonstrated by Q as much more. "Looks like a gentleman's ink pen..."
"Yes," expertly explicated James Bond with as much emotion as a man of means might afford anything of such taste and social significance for the upper-crust crowd. "A Dunhill Sentryman Swarovski Crystal, I believe. Limited Edition, naturally. Somewhere in the neighborhood of two thousand, four hundred and eighty-three pounds sterling, if I'm not mistaken. Quite lovely."
"Yes, yes, " heavily heaved Q while languidly redirecting 007's attention to the attractive fountain pen's true intent. "We've developed, at a price at least a thousand times its 'street worth', some sagacious anti-threat utilities. Such as..."
Looking about at the gathered gents in white smocks ranging from mid-twenties to late-fifties, all quite tense as far as James could conclude, before Q finally indicated one of the younger men with a sharp gesture and sharper pitch, "You there, uh...Rodney. About time you made yourself more useful than usual. Take the pen when prompted."
"Y-yes sir, Quartermast--," began the glasses-wearing nerd-for-hire, before quickly correcting himself in front of the Number One Double-Oh. "I mean...Q."
After some simple manipulation of the clip and body of the otherwise ordinary pen, save for its supposed price had it been a more or less plain Dunhill, Q nodded for Rodney the Nervous Nerd to take it from his own outstretched hand.
It became clear to Bond that this was most definitely not an unchanged Dunhill Sentryman Swarovski. Such was visibly established to be the case once the pen was no longer in tactile contact with Q's always-in-agitated gesticulation extremity.
As Rodney suddenly stiffened with bespectacled eyes insanely large, while clearly unable of simply letting go of the Dunhill writing implement, James simply shrugged, "So what, Q? It electrifies in the same manner that might be accomplished by a standard street Taser or..."
"Not 'electrifying', 007," Q cut in with a grand grin gracing his typically cantankerous countenance. "The near nano-level electronics inside set up a special electromagnetic field that interacts with...as well as interferes with...the human body's natural nerve impulses, basically electrical in activity. So much so that the person, preferably an enemy of the crown, could not move or even think until said device was deactivated by the touch of the proper person whose prints are rapidly read via its preprogrammed micro-computers. Then..."
Q calmly demonstrated such by simply grasping the pen twixt thumb and fingers of his hand, whereby Rodney the Nervous Nerd was once again his previously spasmodic Self.
"Uh, e-excuse m-me," stammered Rodney while running the fingers of the put-upon appendage through hair as unruly as any James Bond had yet to spy, no pun intended! "But, uh, I th-think I need to use the f-facilities."
He was holding his pants-protected privates and quite comically trotting toward the far side of the sub-floor section, no doubt dribbling a tiny trail of unwelcome urine in his wobbly wake.
James Bond, 007, cast an incurious scowl of impassivity at the ink pen and its still-smiling-with-self-pride in his work branch head.
"Is that all it can do, Q?"
END OF CHAPTER 1
