Deep in the bowels of the red light district of some unnamed North American city, a hooded figure slowly floated through the crowds. His cloak bore the insignia of an eye dripping blood. The crowd gave him a wide birth, and some whispered as he passed. Even hardened muggers, rapists, and murderers stayed away. No one had the guts to give a Syndicate Emissary trouble.
The stranger made his way to the side of a strip club and gave a series of knocks. The door opened and he made his way down the stairs to a shadowy room lit by low hanging red lamps. He threw his hood back to reveal his pale, alien face. None of the rooms occupants seemed fazed by a scourge splitter entering their den. The splitters eyes traveled over them to the leader, a hulking, heavily tatooed ex-drug dealer who had been recruited by the Syndicate to control this branch due to his intimate knowledge of the area
"We could have a problem." the Emissary rasped in his inhuman voice. "Cortez has arrived."
In a pub on the lower west side of London, Bond and Cortez were relaxing over drinks while getting to know each other a little. Presently Bond's contact, a layed back computer nerd type named Jack Thorne, meandered in.
"Lemme just start off by saying it's highly irregular for you to be briefed out in the open like this and M's getting tired of you flaunting her authority-" Cortez interrupted him.
"It was my call. I don't like being cornered in someone elses office." Thorne raised his hands defensively.
"Hey man, I'm just passing the message along. Yo, keeps! Beer on this end!" he hollared to the haggard bartender before sitting down.
"Do try to keep it down." advised Bond. "Just because we're in public doesn't mean we must draw attention to ourselves." A mug flew down the counter to Thorne, who stopped it and flipped a coin back to the tender. Thorne picked up the mug and put it to his lips for moment before slamming it down empty and signaling for a refill.
"So has MI6 discovered who sent those thugs after me?" inquired Bond.
"Yeah." Thorne fit in between gulps. "Some new group called the Syndicate. We can't find to much on them right now, but we, meaning me, myself, and I, have been checking around." Thorne called to the bartender again.
"He always like this?" Cortez muttered to Bond while Thorne was distracted by a beautiful brunette that had just entered and was sitting down bar from them.
"It would appear so." mused Bond, glancing around the rest of the pub to check out the other clientale. A group of muscular thugs lurked in one corner, completely drunk, two teenage girls and their boyfriends were making out in another, the center tables taking up by an apparent business meeting.
"Anyway," said Thorne, still occasionally glancing at the woman up the bar. "This group is pretty widespread both in locale in interests from what I can find. Drug dealing, gunrunning, extortion, control of 3rd world politics, and a hell of a lot of other stuff. Basically the you name it, we do it of the underworld."
"Is there any chance this group is related to Janus?" queried Bond.
"Well, maybe. Janus pretty much shattered after Trevelyan died in that mess in Cuba, but it looks like these guys are using most of Janus's bases and a large amount of their people and capital. Probably made a take over bid and kept running business as usual."
"Janus?" asked Cortez.
"Russian arms smugglers, headed by an ex MI6 operative named Alec Trevelyan." supplied Thorne. A shadow pass over Bond's face, and Cortez opted not to press for details. He could tell when someone had been betrayed.
"You guys might wanna get down......" suggested Thorne, already diving off his barstool. A burst of machine gun fire obliterated the bottles behind Bond and Cortez and they both dropped, drawing their weapons and rolling behind tables. The brunette that Thorne had been checking out had pulled a sawed off shotgun out from under her dress and the thugs Bond had noticed earlier had opened up her with automatic weapons.
"Turf war?" suggested Thorne, whom had produced a lethal looking throwing knife from his sleeve. Cortez looked at him in disbelief.
"A knife? What can you do with a-" the shooting stopped. The woman had killed all four of her opponents and was now turning on the trio were they hid. Thorne popped up for a second and hurled his knife with suprising accuracy and speed, taking off her trigger finger, middle, and ring. She grimaced and raced for the door, firing an uzi she had had hidden somewhere with her good hand. She did not realize that Cortez had left his hidy hole and was unprepared when he tackled her and slammed her into a pole, knocking her cold.
The teen couples in the corner, whom had been staring in horror at the bodies, were jerked back to reality by the approaching sirens.
"You better stay here." Bond told them before going to find the bartender.
"Who do you think she is?" Cortez asked, looking down at her body.
"Could be anyone." replied Thorne. "Bond has more enemies than the rest of the agency put together. 'Course, I was under the impression he killed them all, but whatever. Ya know, she's pretty cute when she's unconcious and bleeding on the floor."
At this point the cops burst in and began setting up obstructions to keep the gathering crowd out. They wanted to take Bond, Cortez, Thorne, and the rest of the pubs customers down to the Yard for interogtion.
"This is gonna be a looooooooong night." muttered Thorne as he got into the cop car.
The stranger made his way to the side of a strip club and gave a series of knocks. The door opened and he made his way down the stairs to a shadowy room lit by low hanging red lamps. He threw his hood back to reveal his pale, alien face. None of the rooms occupants seemed fazed by a scourge splitter entering their den. The splitters eyes traveled over them to the leader, a hulking, heavily tatooed ex-drug dealer who had been recruited by the Syndicate to control this branch due to his intimate knowledge of the area
"We could have a problem." the Emissary rasped in his inhuman voice. "Cortez has arrived."
In a pub on the lower west side of London, Bond and Cortez were relaxing over drinks while getting to know each other a little. Presently Bond's contact, a layed back computer nerd type named Jack Thorne, meandered in.
"Lemme just start off by saying it's highly irregular for you to be briefed out in the open like this and M's getting tired of you flaunting her authority-" Cortez interrupted him.
"It was my call. I don't like being cornered in someone elses office." Thorne raised his hands defensively.
"Hey man, I'm just passing the message along. Yo, keeps! Beer on this end!" he hollared to the haggard bartender before sitting down.
"Do try to keep it down." advised Bond. "Just because we're in public doesn't mean we must draw attention to ourselves." A mug flew down the counter to Thorne, who stopped it and flipped a coin back to the tender. Thorne picked up the mug and put it to his lips for moment before slamming it down empty and signaling for a refill.
"So has MI6 discovered who sent those thugs after me?" inquired Bond.
"Yeah." Thorne fit in between gulps. "Some new group called the Syndicate. We can't find to much on them right now, but we, meaning me, myself, and I, have been checking around." Thorne called to the bartender again.
"He always like this?" Cortez muttered to Bond while Thorne was distracted by a beautiful brunette that had just entered and was sitting down bar from them.
"It would appear so." mused Bond, glancing around the rest of the pub to check out the other clientale. A group of muscular thugs lurked in one corner, completely drunk, two teenage girls and their boyfriends were making out in another, the center tables taking up by an apparent business meeting.
"Anyway," said Thorne, still occasionally glancing at the woman up the bar. "This group is pretty widespread both in locale in interests from what I can find. Drug dealing, gunrunning, extortion, control of 3rd world politics, and a hell of a lot of other stuff. Basically the you name it, we do it of the underworld."
"Is there any chance this group is related to Janus?" queried Bond.
"Well, maybe. Janus pretty much shattered after Trevelyan died in that mess in Cuba, but it looks like these guys are using most of Janus's bases and a large amount of their people and capital. Probably made a take over bid and kept running business as usual."
"Janus?" asked Cortez.
"Russian arms smugglers, headed by an ex MI6 operative named Alec Trevelyan." supplied Thorne. A shadow pass over Bond's face, and Cortez opted not to press for details. He could tell when someone had been betrayed.
"You guys might wanna get down......" suggested Thorne, already diving off his barstool. A burst of machine gun fire obliterated the bottles behind Bond and Cortez and they both dropped, drawing their weapons and rolling behind tables. The brunette that Thorne had been checking out had pulled a sawed off shotgun out from under her dress and the thugs Bond had noticed earlier had opened up her with automatic weapons.
"Turf war?" suggested Thorne, whom had produced a lethal looking throwing knife from his sleeve. Cortez looked at him in disbelief.
"A knife? What can you do with a-" the shooting stopped. The woman had killed all four of her opponents and was now turning on the trio were they hid. Thorne popped up for a second and hurled his knife with suprising accuracy and speed, taking off her trigger finger, middle, and ring. She grimaced and raced for the door, firing an uzi she had had hidden somewhere with her good hand. She did not realize that Cortez had left his hidy hole and was unprepared when he tackled her and slammed her into a pole, knocking her cold.
The teen couples in the corner, whom had been staring in horror at the bodies, were jerked back to reality by the approaching sirens.
"You better stay here." Bond told them before going to find the bartender.
"Who do you think she is?" Cortez asked, looking down at her body.
"Could be anyone." replied Thorne. "Bond has more enemies than the rest of the agency put together. 'Course, I was under the impression he killed them all, but whatever. Ya know, she's pretty cute when she's unconcious and bleeding on the floor."
At this point the cops burst in and began setting up obstructions to keep the gathering crowd out. They wanted to take Bond, Cortez, Thorne, and the rest of the pubs customers down to the Yard for interogtion.
"This is gonna be a looooooooong night." muttered Thorne as he got into the cop car.