~*~ It took a while but here is chapter 2, monkeys included.
The gigantic ball of luminous gas often referred to as the sun rose over England shedding its light on cities, towns, small populaces, sheep paddocks and two distinctly different men who were at that very moment going for their morning run. James Bond was going for a leisurely run at Carrington while David was running through the halls of the MI6 building and had so far only managed to knock over 5 people, a create full of weaponary and a water cooler. David was late, very late. Which was quite unusual for him as he was more than used to getting up at unheard of hours. He rounded the corner and had to dive roll to avoid trampling a little corgi that was sitting patiently right in the centre of the corridor. The corgi had a pristine white note attached to its diamond-encrusted collar. David was unsure what to do - get the letter or not? He didn't even know whom the letter was for. What if the dog was violent? David shuddered as he remembered his first experience with a Queen
corgi - if that's what it was, of course, it had all the right markings, a diamond collar, a distinctly malevolent tinge to its little doggy eyes and, of course, a diamond collar. He had his first run in with one of these unrelenting beasts when he had gone to the palace for some reason or another. Anyhow, he had mistakenly wandered off the clearly designated route and found himself face to face with a one-foot tall terror. It had chased him for miles. David still woke up at night wondering were that fiend was. It was lucky for him that M chose that moment to go looking for the truant Mr Beckham. Unfortunately he didn't notice the dog until it was too late and he had stamped on its little royal tail. M looked down to see a growling mass of fur decimate his trouser leg. He bellowed before jumping behind David. Both men looked more than apprehensive as the corgi advanced, saliva dripping from its tinny mandibles. David and M took the chance and pelted down the corridor and
barricaded themselves in M's office. M straightened his collar before sitting in his luxury recliner.
"So David what's your excuse mmm? Why are you so late?" David looked down at his feet, blushing slightly as sounds of the mad corgi ripping at the thick mahogany door could be heard from outside.
" Sorry sir... I was watching Tweenies..." David shuffled his feet with embarrassment.
"That show with the brightly dressed mad little cartoon thingies?" David nodded his head unsure of what would come next.
"I love that show! Well then that's all understandable! Enough said!" David smiled thankfully. Between you and me David hadn't been watching Tweenies - he finds it strangely scary and confusing - he had instead been watching the news! M shuffled some paper on his desk before looking up at Beckham earnestly.
"You have a mission Mr Beckham..." Beckham suddenly looked very enthusiastic.
"A mission!" M nodded sternly.
"Here are your orders," M handed David a cream coloured envelope with TOP SECRET stamped on it in red ink. David looked at intently.
"Well open it." Suggested M who had no idea himself what the mission was and was more than eager to find out what important job a footballer turned secret agent would be deemed fit to run. David opened it in a cavalier manner, little bits of paper going everywhere. M brushed a bit off his head while David read aloud.
"Beckham you are instructed to break through and neutralise the Dutch crime syndicate the `The Van Men' by tea time. You have permission to use any weapons from the armoury, M is instructed to take you there. Good luck soldier/ midfielder."
M was impressed; obviously the hierarchy had more confidence in Mr Beckham than he did! The Van Men were a notorious mob; he had lost two and half agents in the war against them so far. He leaned back in his chair, mind racing, things don't bode well for Mr Beckham.
Meanwhile at Carrington.
It was just another day training with the mad Scotsmen. Over the years the lads had managed to build up a rudimentary understanding of their famed but illegible manager.
"Ack Jimmy where be that lad who do not appreciate a nice dirty jock strap?" Bond stepped out from behind a tree, incapable of making an ordinary entry.
"Are you referring to me sir?"
"Oh aye!"
"Then I am here sir." James indicated himself with a sweep of his hand. He ran to a different tree. "And here sir." Everyone was looking at James with a confused almost scared look on their faces. Sir Alex gave Bond a calculating look before throwing him a Nike football. James caught it, looking at it blankly.
"Well lad show us your skills." Sir Alex urged. James still slightly confused threw the ball up in the air then shot it three times before it hit the ground with the handgun he kept in his left sock. All jaws dropped, someone sniggered.
"Wha.. What!! What the hell was that? You just shot my football!!" Sir Alex's face was taking on a pink tint. Bond pocketed the gun and looked at his new boss meaningfully.
"Yes," He said slowly "what exactly were you expecting?"
"A less violent approach!" Spat Sir Alex as he cautiously pocked the deflated ball with his foot.
"Violence is my duty Sir." Sir Alex looked exasperated.
Back In London.
M had called a security team to take away the vicious corgi so he could take Beckham to get all weaponed up. The weaponry was in the third basement. The entire level was dedicated to all things destructive. Various guns lined the walls, there was an entire display for knives and even a wall for blunt instruments such as crowbars and monkey wrenches. Beckham was impressed. He had never seen so many weapons, he wondered with awe which ones he would be allowed to `borrow'. M was leading him through the impressive arsenal to a room right at the back which had 007 printed on it's shinny red surface. Once inside M closed the door gently behind him.
"Well?" he asked tentatively. It wasn't a particularly impressive sight - especially not compared to the wonders that lay outside. The room was Spartan with pale concrete walls and floor. The only furniture was a simple pine table off to one side. An aluminium brief case rested on the table.
"Um... it's... ah... nice?" hazarded Beckham, fidgeting slightly.
"Nice? It's not just nice! It's splendid! Amazing! Riveting! Absolutely breathtaking!" Beckham nodded hopelessly. M picked up the brief case and patted it in an affectionate manner. "It's 007's very own brief case!" chirped M excitedly, David was completely lost. M handed the case to David, with as mush ceremony as he could muster.
"Err thanks." managed Beckham, as he looked it over cautiously. "What's the combination sequence?"
"007 of course!" M looked a little exasperated. "James isn't very imaginative..." David nodded in agreement even though he actually thought it was a clever password. "Well I suppose you'll be getting on your way then!" Suggested M as he pushed Beckham out the door, locking it behind him.
"Huh? Don't I get any weapons?" M looked confused.
"But you have a brief case... why should you want any thing else?" David was about to answer when he spied a gigantic crossbow.
"What about that?" Asked David as he pointed to the massive gun.
"Don't be silly! That's for hunting Russians!" M chuckled softly. "You'll be fine with what you've got. Now get going!" M said as he looked at his gold Rolex, which had monkeys as clock hands.
~*~ If you would like to send condolences for the brutally murdered Nike football you are welcome. Please remember even though footballs are just round balls what love to be kicked around but are, alas, largely inanimate doesn't mean they deserve to be shot! PLEASE REVIEW - wow that sounded desperate.
The gigantic ball of luminous gas often referred to as the sun rose over England shedding its light on cities, towns, small populaces, sheep paddocks and two distinctly different men who were at that very moment going for their morning run. James Bond was going for a leisurely run at Carrington while David was running through the halls of the MI6 building and had so far only managed to knock over 5 people, a create full of weaponary and a water cooler. David was late, very late. Which was quite unusual for him as he was more than used to getting up at unheard of hours. He rounded the corner and had to dive roll to avoid trampling a little corgi that was sitting patiently right in the centre of the corridor. The corgi had a pristine white note attached to its diamond-encrusted collar. David was unsure what to do - get the letter or not? He didn't even know whom the letter was for. What if the dog was violent? David shuddered as he remembered his first experience with a Queen
corgi - if that's what it was, of course, it had all the right markings, a diamond collar, a distinctly malevolent tinge to its little doggy eyes and, of course, a diamond collar. He had his first run in with one of these unrelenting beasts when he had gone to the palace for some reason or another. Anyhow, he had mistakenly wandered off the clearly designated route and found himself face to face with a one-foot tall terror. It had chased him for miles. David still woke up at night wondering were that fiend was. It was lucky for him that M chose that moment to go looking for the truant Mr Beckham. Unfortunately he didn't notice the dog until it was too late and he had stamped on its little royal tail. M looked down to see a growling mass of fur decimate his trouser leg. He bellowed before jumping behind David. Both men looked more than apprehensive as the corgi advanced, saliva dripping from its tinny mandibles. David and M took the chance and pelted down the corridor and
barricaded themselves in M's office. M straightened his collar before sitting in his luxury recliner.
"So David what's your excuse mmm? Why are you so late?" David looked down at his feet, blushing slightly as sounds of the mad corgi ripping at the thick mahogany door could be heard from outside.
" Sorry sir... I was watching Tweenies..." David shuffled his feet with embarrassment.
"That show with the brightly dressed mad little cartoon thingies?" David nodded his head unsure of what would come next.
"I love that show! Well then that's all understandable! Enough said!" David smiled thankfully. Between you and me David hadn't been watching Tweenies - he finds it strangely scary and confusing - he had instead been watching the news! M shuffled some paper on his desk before looking up at Beckham earnestly.
"You have a mission Mr Beckham..." Beckham suddenly looked very enthusiastic.
"A mission!" M nodded sternly.
"Here are your orders," M handed David a cream coloured envelope with TOP SECRET stamped on it in red ink. David looked at intently.
"Well open it." Suggested M who had no idea himself what the mission was and was more than eager to find out what important job a footballer turned secret agent would be deemed fit to run. David opened it in a cavalier manner, little bits of paper going everywhere. M brushed a bit off his head while David read aloud.
"Beckham you are instructed to break through and neutralise the Dutch crime syndicate the `The Van Men' by tea time. You have permission to use any weapons from the armoury, M is instructed to take you there. Good luck soldier/ midfielder."
M was impressed; obviously the hierarchy had more confidence in Mr Beckham than he did! The Van Men were a notorious mob; he had lost two and half agents in the war against them so far. He leaned back in his chair, mind racing, things don't bode well for Mr Beckham.
Meanwhile at Carrington.
It was just another day training with the mad Scotsmen. Over the years the lads had managed to build up a rudimentary understanding of their famed but illegible manager.
"Ack Jimmy where be that lad who do not appreciate a nice dirty jock strap?" Bond stepped out from behind a tree, incapable of making an ordinary entry.
"Are you referring to me sir?"
"Oh aye!"
"Then I am here sir." James indicated himself with a sweep of his hand. He ran to a different tree. "And here sir." Everyone was looking at James with a confused almost scared look on their faces. Sir Alex gave Bond a calculating look before throwing him a Nike football. James caught it, looking at it blankly.
"Well lad show us your skills." Sir Alex urged. James still slightly confused threw the ball up in the air then shot it three times before it hit the ground with the handgun he kept in his left sock. All jaws dropped, someone sniggered.
"Wha.. What!! What the hell was that? You just shot my football!!" Sir Alex's face was taking on a pink tint. Bond pocketed the gun and looked at his new boss meaningfully.
"Yes," He said slowly "what exactly were you expecting?"
"A less violent approach!" Spat Sir Alex as he cautiously pocked the deflated ball with his foot.
"Violence is my duty Sir." Sir Alex looked exasperated.
Back In London.
M had called a security team to take away the vicious corgi so he could take Beckham to get all weaponed up. The weaponry was in the third basement. The entire level was dedicated to all things destructive. Various guns lined the walls, there was an entire display for knives and even a wall for blunt instruments such as crowbars and monkey wrenches. Beckham was impressed. He had never seen so many weapons, he wondered with awe which ones he would be allowed to `borrow'. M was leading him through the impressive arsenal to a room right at the back which had 007 printed on it's shinny red surface. Once inside M closed the door gently behind him.
"Well?" he asked tentatively. It wasn't a particularly impressive sight - especially not compared to the wonders that lay outside. The room was Spartan with pale concrete walls and floor. The only furniture was a simple pine table off to one side. An aluminium brief case rested on the table.
"Um... it's... ah... nice?" hazarded Beckham, fidgeting slightly.
"Nice? It's not just nice! It's splendid! Amazing! Riveting! Absolutely breathtaking!" Beckham nodded hopelessly. M picked up the brief case and patted it in an affectionate manner. "It's 007's very own brief case!" chirped M excitedly, David was completely lost. M handed the case to David, with as mush ceremony as he could muster.
"Err thanks." managed Beckham, as he looked it over cautiously. "What's the combination sequence?"
"007 of course!" M looked a little exasperated. "James isn't very imaginative..." David nodded in agreement even though he actually thought it was a clever password. "Well I suppose you'll be getting on your way then!" Suggested M as he pushed Beckham out the door, locking it behind him.
"Huh? Don't I get any weapons?" M looked confused.
"But you have a brief case... why should you want any thing else?" David was about to answer when he spied a gigantic crossbow.
"What about that?" Asked David as he pointed to the massive gun.
"Don't be silly! That's for hunting Russians!" M chuckled softly. "You'll be fine with what you've got. Now get going!" M said as he looked at his gold Rolex, which had monkeys as clock hands.
~*~ If you would like to send condolences for the brutally murdered Nike football you are welcome. Please remember even though footballs are just round balls what love to be kicked around but are, alas, largely inanimate doesn't mean they deserve to be shot! PLEASE REVIEW - wow that sounded desperate.