As happens so often, Q loses track of time during the day until another agent comes up, dressed in a rather sharp suit, and clears his throat a little. "Q, sir. I'm here by M's request to escort you back to your flat." The man says somewhat formally, keeping a decent distance and not crowding Q.

Looking up and over at the man in surprise, Q adjusts his glasses and nods. "Ah. Of course. Let me just get my jacket, I was at a good stopping point anyway.." Putting his soldering iron aside, Q walks over to grab his jacket and keys, looking around and patting his pockets to make sure he doesn't need anything else, before he nods slowly to the agent. "Lead the way, agent."

The walk to the elevator and the ride down to the parking level is quiet, making Q shake his head a little. It's obvious that the other man – about his own age – wants to ask questions of him, but is keeping silent either because he is under orders or is merely concerned with propriety or something of the sort.

Once in the car, Q leans his head against the window, staring out at the buildings whizzing by as he thinks about Bond and how his job might be going. If all goes well, 007 should be headed back to London in the next day or two. And the boffin certainly wants his mate to come back sooner rather than later. It's just been a day, but a lot of things have happened and he misses his mate. Absently, he puts one hand over the mark on his shoulder where it's hidden under his shirt, wondering what the agent is doing-

Q's thoughts come to an abrupt halt as his world is thrown into confusion. Thrown across the car, his head and shoulder impact the opposite side of the door, glasses falling to the floor board. Vaguely, he realizes that a car must have impacted the driver's side where he was sitting. After what must have been only a few seconds, the door supporting his back disappears and strong hands grab his arms, a black fabric bag going over his head. Still dazed and likely concussed, Q is in no state to fight back, instead being dragged across the pavement and tossed into the bed of a truck or back of a van. Whatever it is, it is wood, smells faintly of gasoline and is very hard. Before he can react any further, Q is pressed flat onto his front, knee pressed across his back before rough, strong hands bind his arms behind his back.

The most striking thing is the silence. There are the normal noises of the city Q can hear over the ringing in his ears, faint sirens in the distance, but from his kidnappers there is nothing beyond few grunts of effort. Despite any training he had when he was just another member of Q-branch, he is unable to distinguish anything else as he lingers on the edge of consciousness.

At some point after being put inside the vehicle, Q must have passed out, since his next thought is when he jerks awake. Unbound, with no hood on his head, and significantly more rumpled than he remembers being. He must have been searched when he was out. Lifting his hand to his sore head, he feels a small bandage there which gives him hope. They don't want him dead, at least. He is more valuable as a hostage to these men. They must want money or something from him specifically. Either way, it gives the young man time to figure an escape. Since he woke up on the floor, he now takes the opportunity to look around, examining the small cell he was put in.

From the mustiness of the room, the young boffin assumes it is in a basement somewhere. There are no lights, just a heavy wooden door at the top of 4 stone steps, and two windows set high up in the walls. The windows themselves have bars over them, but some sort of rice paper or something to make them opaque so no one can look out or in, but it does allow some light in. The amount of light coming in leads Q to believe it is either daytime, or they are right next to a street light of some sort. Unfortunately he cannot hear any noise from outside. They must either be off the street or there is an incredible amount of sound proofing between him and the outside world.

Straightening himself the best he can, Q runs a hand through his hair before he starts to feel along the wall for anything of interest, also noticing his glasses are still missing. Until they ensure his cooperation, he assumes they don't want to give him anything to help him escape or possibly injure himself. Interesting, but frustrating. And if he is merely being used for ransom, there is no reason to give his glasses back.

Finding nothing of interest along the walls, Q sighs a little and arranges himself in the warmer corner of the room away from the windows, leaning against the wall and deciding to try and get some rest. Apparently there is nothing he can do until his captors decide to make some contact with him.

~oOo~

Half an hour after Q leaves the building, Moneypenny receives an alert which sends her rushing into M's office, glad that the older man is working late like he so often does, due to having agents on critical missions in other time zones.

"Sir, you need to see this." Moneypenny says as she loads something up on her tablet, turning it around for her boss to see the video. It's CCTV video of a car crash. While it might look like a normal crash, the young man being dragged out of the car to the unmarked van is rather distinctive. "The alert came through that one of our cars is involved in a crash, we pulled the footage." She explains of it.

M looks over at the tablet, thinking his assistant must have something awfully important to barge in in such a rush. Of course, as soon as he sees the video he understands. "Q." He states without question. "The agent driving the car?" He questions, sighing a little as he sees the look on Moneypenny's face that tells him the fate of the driver. It really is surprising how many employees MI6 loses to rather mundane things. He is starting to think that he needs to have someone look into that. Of course his mind first goes to Q, and then is immediately brought back to the matter at hand. "Assign whoever you need to. Identify those men. See if Tanner has any matches for those men from the restaurant. See if they match any of those two men." He demands in frustration as he points at the tablet. "Find Q." He orders, before he goes and pours himself a drink. "And contact R, to take over Q-branch for the time being. I'll contact Bond."

"Is that wise, sir?" Moneypenny asks after jotting down some notes of what she needs to do, and sending out some secure emails to those involved. She knows Tanner has probably gone home for the night, so she sends him an email, and will call him if he doesn't respond soon.

M glances over at Moneypenny and shakes his head. "I don't have a choice. Hopefully by the time 007 comes back, we will have Q safely back home. Monitor whatever you need to, see if any demands come through on any channels. Find him." He repeats his order in a clear dismissal.

With a firm nod of her head, the young woman turns on her heels and strides for the door, looking down at the paused video on her tablet, the way Q is pulled out so limply. "Please be alright, Q.." She mumbles, only having hope of his health from the fact that the kidnappers put a hood over his head. Surely they would not have bothered if he were dead.

Deciding to head down to Q-branch to talk to R, Moneypenny takes her tablet, sending off orders. She doesn't want the whole building in a panic, but there are people and departments needing to know Q is unavailable, while others can help in locating the boffin. It is getting late but at the moment she doesn't bloody well care who she wakes up or drags into work. If Q were made to talk, he has too much valuable information about the security and technology MI6 uses to allow him to be held hostage.

Ok. So. Life. That's all I have to say. Glad to be back to this! And Spectre comes out on DVD on Tuesday so hopefully watching it again will give me more inspiration! Thanks to everyone who is sticking with me, I will try to be a better author for you guys. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Comments/Reviews welcome!