.

14

Kane Island, before the attack on Wayne Manor

Bond emerged from the chilly waters of Gotham Bay by degrees, keeping his eyes just above the water line. He removed his mask and goggles, things that might have made him visible from a distance, and scanned the beach. There was no sign of activity. His mouth cleared the lapping water, and he slowly drew a breath, his first in nearly two minutes. He scanned the area a second time. Two large buildings and several smaller pavilions dominated the island. Behind them stood the old tower structures, from which rockets once blazed up from the earth, out into space. The massive rigging still bore the NASA logo, a proud symbol of a simpler time. Again, Bond scanned the area. Not a soul in sight. He dipped back below the water.

Seconds later, he resurfaced, followed by Selena Kyle. She ripped off her mask, sputtering. Bond tapped her head, motioning her to keep low to the water. With Selena bobbing in place, he swam the hundred yards to the pier, gliding silently underwater. He climbed the pilings, and pulled himself up, noting the speedboats tied to the pier, along with a small ferry. He waived Selena in and set about stripping off his wetsuit. Selena made the pier and hauled herself up, scowling.

"Th. . .that wa…water…is fricking c…cold! Why the h...hell did we leave our b...boat back on that island?"

"It's called spying," Bond said as he checked his Walther, making sure his watertight holster was just that. "Keep it down."

"Y…you keep it down," she grumbled, stripping off her wetsuit, shivering. She kicked the flippers off angrily. "And p…people pay to do this? Bunch of idiots…"

Bond rolled his eyes. His weapon in good order, he holstered it, and turned his attention to Selena, who was struggling to get her Catwoman gear on. Her skin was white and covered in gooseflesh.

"Come here," Bond said, reaching out. She slapped his hand away. "Come here," he repeated, forcefully. He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her back. "It'll warm you."

She pushed him away. "I don't like you right now."

"Yes you do," he said, tilting her face up to his, smiling. She stared at him, her brow knit in anger.

"Do they teach you to be this obnoxious in spy school, or this just a British thing?"

"Yes," Bond said. He kissed her. She fought him. He kissed her harder. She let him. She kissed him back, sinking into his arms. After several seconds, he pulled back.

"Warmer?"

"Yes. I still hate you."

"You'll get over it," he said. "Get dressed, quickly. I don't like being out in the open like this."

Selena looked around. "Why? Place looks deserted."

"I know. That's what worries me."

. . .

After hiding their equipment in a speedboat, Bond and Selena walked across the beach, towards a raised boardwalk that ran the length of the island. Beyond it stood a massive building complex, Mission Control emblazoned on the wall. There was a colorful mural below the lettering—rockets blazing against a field of stars, comets and planets spinning by as happy astronauts waved to the earth below. Like Selena said: tourist trap.

As they approached the boardwalk, Selena hurried her pace. Bond caught up to her, putting his hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"Running draws attention," he said. "I thought you were a thief?"

"I'm the best. There isn't a burglar alarm I can't beat, a penthouse I can't reach, or a safe I can't crack. But this commando stuff is for the birds."

"So, you can climb a skyscraper, but a little swim rattles you?"

Selena glared at him. "If you think you're getting any tonight, think again."

Bond grabbed Selena's wrist, and pulled her to the ground. He put his finger to his lips, signaling for silence and quietly rolled them towards a small tuft of beach grass...just as two men walked down the boardwalk at a hurried clip. They were dressed in tactical gear, with weapons holstered at their hips, and were deep in conversation. Over the sound of the surf, Bond could not hear their words. As they passed, he turned to Selena.

"Not tourists."

"There are no tourists," she said. "Look."

Selena pointed to a sign posted off to her right, reading Island closed for the season. As Bond read, the overhead P.A. speakers on the buildings crackled to life.

"Attention all personnel…pre-launch briefing begins in ten minutes…all technical teams report to mission control"

Bond dusted sand from his jacket. "Let's go. I want to see what's happening in there."

Rounding the building, they found the freight doors padlocked. Bond tried the small door off to the side. There was an electronic lock mounted over the handle, requiring a security card. Taking a small tool kit from his windbreaker, he knelt, working to pry off the lock. Selena tapped him on the shoulder, a smirk on her lips.

"Step aside, James…this is my specialty."

She pulled a key card from a pouch on her belt, and slotted it into the mechanism. "These Jorgenson keypads are easier to hack than a Twitter account." There was a cable attached to the card, connected to a device the size of an MP3 player. The device made a small 'beep', and the lock flashed green.

"Voila! Lead the way, agent man."

They stepped inside. The shipping bay was deserted, but the crates stacked against the wall, and the tow trucks lined up against them were unmistakable signs of recent activity. Somehow, Specter had managed to turn a faded tourist trap back into a functioning missile base. Bond was impressed. He and Selena headed towards a large corridor, when a voice called out.

"You two, what are you doing back here?"

Bond turned. There were three men standing behind them. The unmistakable air of security agents.

"We're on our way to the briefing," Bond answered. The men approached warily. Selena's black leather suit was garnering suspicious stares.

"Why aren't you using the main entrance?" the lead man asked. He laid his hand on his sidearm. "Let's see some identification."

"Certainly," Bond said, reaching into his jacket. He whipped his hand out, a blur of motion, a flash of steel. The man fell, a knife jutting from his throat. As the others frantically reached for their guns, Bond surged forward, sending a spinning heal kick into the head of the man to his right, connecting with an audible crack. He used the momentum to propel a lightning fast jab at the last man, who fell to his knees, eyes bulging as he tried to draw breath through his shattered windpipe. He dropped face down, joining his companions in oblivion. Bond turned to Selena. It had taken less than five seconds.

"My specialty. Come on, help me hide them."

After concealing the bodies in an empty shipping container, Bond and Selena made their way across the bay, heading towards the heart of the complex. Selena was quiet, her manner distant. Bond thought he knew why.

"The killing troubles you," he said. "It's not something I do lightly."

"You do it awfully well. You even make snappy jokes as you do it."

Bond stopped, and turned to Selena. "If I seem cold about it, it's because I have to be. I have a job to do. Sometimes it requires that I do ugly things. If I don't, innocent people die. Those men back there…they weren't innocent."

Selena looked at Bond. "I know. Look, I'm no angel. I…I've killed before, when it was them or me But I hate it, that's all. And I just don't want to end up hating you."

"I won't let you hate me," Bond said, kissing her. "I like you Selena. When this mission is finished, I'd like to get to know you better…but right now, I have to focus. Specter is holding my friend captive, and holding the world for ransom. I have to stop them. Are you with me?"

Selena nodded. "All the way."

They moved on, keeping to the shadows, until they arrived at a corridor. "We have to chance it," Bond said. "It looks deserted. Go quietly, but look like you belong."

They entered the corridor, finding it deserted. There were sounds of a crowd ahead, a hundred people or more by the sound of it. Rounding the corner, they saw a set of double doors, with a sign above labeled Mission Control Center. There was a small office next to the doors, the lights off. Bond peered through the glass. As Selena joined him, he tried the door. Locked.

"Do your thing," Bond said, keeping his voice to a whisper. A second later, Selena had the lock picked. They stepped inside, keeping the lights off.

Selena pressed her ear to the wall. "We won't be able to hear much from here. I could try the air vents?"

"That sounds like work," Bond replied, sitting behind the computer console. "Let's see if Specter has this briefing on video feed."

He touched the mouse, and the monitor blinked on, showing a large auditorium, filled with people. Most were technicians and office drones, but scattered among them were armed security guards.

"Voila," Bond said, grinning at Selena. "By all means, try the air vent if you prefer."

"Nobody likes a smart ass, James. Maybe we—"

The door opened, cutting Selena off. A short, balding man, wearing the cheap suit and white lab coat of a technician, was staring at them, frozen in place, his hand hovering at the light switch.

"What are you doing in my office?"

Bond rose, walking up to the man. "We're checking security protocols."

"But…I'm in charge of computer security. Who sent you?"

Bond smiled. "Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth."

A cloud of gas billowed from Bond's watch, hitting the little man flush. Selena caught him as he crumpled, swinging his unconscious body to the small couch in the corner of the room. She looked up, eying Bond's watch.

"I just have to get me one of those."

"I'll see what I can do," Bond replied. "Hush now, the briefing is on."

Bond sat, turning the volume up just enough to hear the proceedings. On the screen, a woman stepped to the podium. Bond's eyes widened as he saw her.

"Do you recognize her?" Selena asked.

Bond said nothing, his gaze riveted to the screen. The woman at the podium began to speak, her voice sleek, and cool, her accent that of a well-bred English woman born to privilege.

"We are in the final stages of Operation Grandstand. The launch is set for tomorrow morning, 0800. Once our satellite achieves orbit, and the relay connections are established...the world will be ours."

A cheer erupted, the sound bleeding through the walls. The giant video monitors showed images of a rocket, with teams of technicians connecting fuel lines and performing last minute checks.

The woman signaled for silence. "Number One is in conference with our partners, but he wishes to congratulate you on your work."

Behind her, the images of the rocket blinked off the video screens, replaced by that of a man Bond had never seen before. He had no doubt it was Blofeld. Bond listened, his hand tightening into a hard fist.

"The goal we have been working towards these past several months is almost in reach. I caution you not lose focus at this critical time…but I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge your hard work and dedication. At the successful completion of this mission, you will all receive a triple bonus. Tonight, the nations of the world go to sleep, fat, contented, happy in their primacy. Tomorrow…they will awake to a new order. Our order. Specter endures."

Cries of Specter endures! echoed from the Control Center. With a nod to his people, Blofeld's image left the screen. As the woman returned to the podium, a shrill tone sounded, followed by flashing red lights overhead. The crowd looked up as a computerized voice sounded from the PA:

Intruder alert…intruder alert…

The woman shouted into the microphone. "Security, sweep the compound!"

"That's our cue," Bond said, grabbing Selena's hand. They bolted from the office, racing back the way they had come. At the intersection with another corridor, a man jumped out, trying to tackle them. Selena drove a straight kick into his face, dropping him like a stone. They rounded the corner to the shipping bay, finding a security detail waiting, six men, two women. Bond drew his gun, and Selena pulled daggers from her harness, setting aside any concerns she had about taking a life. The Specter agents fell. Shots rang down from a platform above, the crossfire so close Selena felt bullets crease her cheek. Bond took aim, fired, then spun and shot again, a flash of speed Selena could hardly believe. Four shooters fell, landing on the concrete with a sickening crunch.

Bond rushed to Selena. "Cats really do have nine lives," he said, amazed to see no injuries. "Come on, we've got to make the beach."

They tore out of the building at a dead sprint, heading towards the water. Harsh voices called out behind them, followed by the ruthless bark of machine gun fire. Bond answered with a volley from his Walter, not breaking his stride. They dashed across the boardwalk as slugs tore into the wooden planks at their feet. Leaping the railing, they tumbled to the sandy beach six-feet below, giving them temporary cover. As Bond reloaded his Walther, he turned to Selena.

"Get to the pier, I'll cover you."

"I'm not leaving you!"

Bond grabbed her shoulder. "There's no time for this! You have to leave, now!" He pressed something into Selena's hand. It was Batman's communicator. "Get to safety, call Batman. Tell him what you've seen here—go!"

Bond shoved her towards the pier, and then turned, laying down fire at the Specter agents. Selena hesitated…and then she ran. As she made the pier, she looked over her shoulder, in time to see James overrun. Out of ammunition, he charged his attackers, felling six of them before being clubbed from behind. The urge to race to his aid nearly overwhelmed Selena, when the first motorcycle flew off the boardwalk, racing her way.

Selena jumped from the pier, landing in one of the speedboats. She fired up the engine, with a silent prayer for having paid attention when James had shown her how earlier. Taking a knife from her harness, she sliced the anchor line, as the motorcycle rumbled overhead.

"Freeze!" the Specter agent shouted, skidding to a stop on the pier. As he struggled to free his gun from its holster, Selena spun, throwing her knife. The blade sunk into the man's shoulder, and he fell to the water, screaming. She took a final look, unable to tell if James was even alive as the Spectre agents carried him away. Selena took the throttle and piloted the boat out into the bay, as hot tears stung her eyes.

The sound of engines firing made her turn. Specter was in pursuit. She had a good head start, but they were armed, she wasn't, and Gotham was miles away. Time to call Batman. She reached for the communicator, when bullets ripped into the water beside her, spraying foam. Forgetting the communicator, Selena opened the throttle, smiling; danger was like candy to her.

"Okay," she said, licking her lips, "let's see how many lives I have left."

. . .

Bond awoke slowly, painfully. Even blinking hurt, but finally, he managed to open his eyes. He was in a dank, bare room, sitting in a hard metal chair, his hands and feet tied behind him. He was not alone. He looked up, focusing his vision with an effort. A man walked up to him, tall, silent, and menacing. Bond nodded, genially.

"I don't suppose you could loosen these ropes? It's a bit uncomfortable."

"You go nowhere, English," The man said, his Russian accent unmistakable. He pulled the tattered shirtsleeve from Bond's arm, revealing a tattoo.

"SAS," he said. He rolled up his shirtsleeve, revealing his own tattoo. "Spetsnaz," he said, proudly. The tattoo signified Russian Special Forces; a black bat, wings spread over a blue field. Bond smiled.

"If I were you, I'd hide that tattoo. I have friend coming, and he's not going to like you stealing his look. Not one bit."

The Russian swung, backhand. The blow nearly knocked Bond to the floor, chair and all. Straightening himself, Bond looked the man in the eye.

"Spetsnaz must be lowering their standards. You hit like my grandmother."

The Russian glared, rearing back for another blow. A voice called out from behind Bond, halting the Russian. It was a woman's voice, one Bond knew well. It was the voice from the Specter address, moments ago. It was a voice from another lifetime.

"That is enough. For now. Leave us."

The big Russian looked over Bonds shoulder. "I stay. He is dangerous."

The woman laughed. The sound was soft, like lavender and silk, but underneath it, was steel. "He certainly is. As am I. Leave us."

The Russian glared at Bond a final time. "I see you again, English."

Bond smiled. "I look forward to it."

As the Russian left the room, the woman walked forward. With her every footfall, Bond felt his blood turn to ice. She stepped into view, beautiful, as he knew she would be. Her dress was elegant, her raven hair stylish, and alluring. She smiled at him. Lavender, silk...and steel.

"I've been expecting you. I wish the circumstances of our reunion were more...accommodating. But I suppose it had to be this way."

She walked closer, peering into his eyes. "Rudeness doesn't suit you, James. Have you nothing to say, after all these years?"

Bond met her gaze, with steel of his own. He willed the smile to stay on his face.

"Hello, Vesper."