GOLDENEYE: ROGUE AGENT

"Real Fear"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It is uncharacteristic of me to write a fan-fiction, especially for a game that has does not even have a good story. But I could not sleep one night, so I got up and just began typing. I'd played the game earlier in the day, and I couldn't help but think what must be going through this character's mind as he kills all these hundreds of people and moves right on to the next mission tirelessly, pressing onto a goal that, once achieved, only leads to his being betrayed again by his allies. So this is the result.

It was the same motion as always, like a rhythmic dance of death: shoot, turn, shoot, duck, dive, grab, run, repeat. It was the only thing he'd known for the past six days of his life, but his body felt no fatigue. The adrenaline rush was one he'd run on for his entire life. The fire of life had always flowed through his being. He'd also been blessed—or cursed; it depended on how you looked at it—with the gift of ending life as well. That was why he had enrolled in England's Special Forces to begin with. He'd excelled at everything, especially combat training. But it did not last long.

MI-6 had called him a "brutal killing machine", and discharged him mere months ago. On what grounds? He did not know, but he suspected it had something to do with that assignment in Beirut. There were no hostiles left to eliminate thanks to him, and very few of them were still in one piece. He did the job too well, and he knew that MI-6 feared him. They knew his potential to be their greatest weapon, but they also knew his potential to destroy them all to a man, just because he saw them as hostiles. They were not human. They were simply targets to him, and that's all they needed to be.

And he thought about this as he heard his heart audibly thud in his chest, his legs screaming for the merciful luxury of rest, his lungs burning, and his whole body feeling more alive than ever. He looked straight ahead, oblivious of the shouts of the soldiers and completely unaware of the bullets and explosions that erupted all around him. His goal was near. His target was nearly indefatigable. But so was he. But he was not going to die yet.

His Golden Eye was his secret. It was his source of power. The shining orb in is right eye socket had replaced his original eye had been taken from him in a firefight years ago. He did not think of it as an act of mercy that he had survived. He thought it terribly unlucky for whoever had shot it out. It was a god in its own right. With it, he was capable of deflecting bullets, seeing through walls, scrambling electronic equipment, and sending screaming men and women flying off balconies to their deaths, their path guided by an unseen force: magnetism. And he used every one of these and often as possible. He would not want his power to go to waste, after all. It was too bad that he'd killed the man responsible for endowing him with superhuman power. It was also too bad, he thought, that his master had tried to kill him. His master had tried to destroy him with a weapon of matched power. But even he was dead now, perished at the hands of his own creation. And now, the man knew who he was. He was Goldeneye, the unstoppable force of death and destruction. And he was set on eliminating anyone who stood in his way. Right now, that something was heading towards him at two hundred forty five miles an hour.

The eye deftly responded to his will. His vision flashed into a kaleidoscopic burst of color before acknowledging his request to return to I-Hack mode. He immediately targeted copter-fighter hybrid aircraft up ahead, its engines screaming loudly and both of its machine guns blasting away at him uselessly. The asphalt around his feet burst into ruin, but he did not care. He ran on tirelessly, never breaking his gaze from the craft. He grew closer with ever step, waiting until he was close enough to deliver the lethal strike. Then he sent the magnetic charge shooting, it seemed, from his consciousness into reality. He watched in numb satisfaction as the hover-fighter's tight circling motions instantly crumpled due to the devastating EMP blast. It slid aimlessly through the air above him, its controls jammed. He did not need to pay further attention to it. He heard its whine get louder as it spun out of control, flying past him and diving in a corkscrew motion towards the soldiers and tanks that were following him. He heard their terrified screams and the ensuing shriek of metal that told him his plan had been successful.

He felt the intense heat on the back of his neck. Shards of metal whistled past him and spanged across the pavement like leaves in a strong wind. He heard the deafening explosion roar behind him as the fuel engines exploded, and heard the multiple replies as the tanks' ammunition cooked off as they were obliterated in one, fiery instant.

But the only difference it made to him was that his eye's power was now down 50. It steadily climbed as he continued to run, restoring itself gradually to maximum power again. The heat gradually faded, and there was no gunfire. Everyone was dead and he knew it. He then switched his eye back to I-Shield.

He approached the edge of the huge structure and finally slowed his pace to a walk. His body thanked him, but he ignored it. At any second, he might have to start running again. He lifted both of his submachine guns onto his shoulders, and slowly walked over to the edge of the dam. He finally let his feelings set in.

It was cold, and the snow that fell heavily from the sky collected in his dark hair. His boots crunched in the snow as he looked out onto the bleak river before him. He exhaled, and his icy breath was swept away. He now felt the pain of the thirty bullets that had found their mark. He felt the hot blood running down his black Kevlar armor and falling to the snow beneath him, turning the ground crimson. He became aware of the fact that his breathing was becoming more and more shallow. But it never occurred to him that he was dying. He couldn't die. He was Goldeneye, built to destroy all that opposed him.

The wind slowed a little, and his thoughts poured in. There was no one left to kill. There was absolutely no one. He'd killed them all, quickly and decisively, personally put the gun to their head and blowing their brains out. The only person on his side was him, and it was the only person he needed. Save for one, but the only woman he'd ever loved had even died trying to save him. But she had been foolish. He needed no saving. He'd finally decided in mind that she was weak and stupid like the rest of them…he was the best.

And he'd killed the remaining factions that opposed him. He was king. But looking out into the barren, wind snowy lands reminded him of the truth…that it was only on top. He coughed. It was very cold out here. He'd forgotten long ago where he was. He'd just kept fighting. Pushing them back into their holes…pushing and pushing and pushing…

He finally looked over the edge of the dam, and was reminded why he'd even come here, why he'd just blown up an entire contingent of men and heavy armor with one, deadly strike, why he'd kept fighting tirelessly with the stamina matched only by who he was looking at now. She was hanging off of the edge of the structure, a certain death waiting her if she fell. He'd responded immediately when he'd seen her knocked off the edge by a rocket launcher explosion. And he also saw her right eye. It was golden and shined brightly of its own luminance. Her blonde hair was blowing in the wind, and her fingers gripped the railing tightly, long since turned white. But as she hung there suspended in space, she looked unafraid, just like him. She was his counter, designed specifically to eliminate him. But her master was now dead too, and he'd chased her here. To finished what he'd become part of only a year ago. They stared at each other for the longest time.

"Your master is dead." Goldeneye said, his voice hard and unemotional.

"So is yours." she replied in kind. There was silence between them. Goldeneye felt himself growing weaker. His vital bar that was displayed on the inside of his eye was at 30. It dropped to 29. He lifted his machine gun from his shoulder, and aimed it at her forehead over the railing.

"You know what we must do." he said.

"You're dying." she replied, reading his Golden Eye with her own. "I will be dead, and then there will be nobody. Who will carry on the work our masters started? The plot has failed. We are now null points in an invalid system. There is nothing left."

"I will always be the best." Goldeneye said. "I have defeated armies. I have defeated powerful leaders. You are all that is left for me to defeat."

"Then do so." she said. "But no one will remember you, for you have killed those who could have remembered. I was given but one chance to destroy you, and now I am defeated and I will be of no importance. But you, who have done great things, will share anonymity with me forever in the annals of history."

Goldeneye slowly put down his gun. And then he dropped it to the snowy asphalt. Then he extended his hand to her. "Then you will have to carry on what I have started." He said this simply, and he cared not to think of the ramifications of his trust. It did not matter anyway. He had already been betrayed so many times that it had all faded to grey. But she was like him. She fought for the sake of fighting, and to prove she was the best. Whether she trusted him or not did not matter. He was dead anyway.

Her blue eye held the same emotion as his: nothing. But she took his hand all the same. With an inhumanly strong grip, he slowly lifted her from the railing and slid her body over the edge to safety. His body flared with incredible pain as he did so, and his vitals dropped to 10. He relaxed, and let the numbness sink in. It was no longer cold, and his heart was much quieter than it had been in a long time. It was peaceful. He set her down. Her look was peaceful. He watched as she reached for her pistol at her hip. He dropped his other machine gun. 9.

Her Golden Eye flashed as she stepped back, removing the pistol from the opening in her burgundy bodysuit. Her hair was whipped about her face in the wind as the cold look of determination set in. She leveled the pistol at his chest. "You will pay for your softness, Mr. Goldeneye."

"I am a dead man anyway." Goldeneye said. "But if you are going to kill me…let us do it in a fair draw. I do want to die a coward's death, killed by someone without a fight. You will then have truly succeeded me as Goldeneye…do you agree." He said it as a statement, and not as a question.

"Fair enough." she said, lowering the pistol. "Draw your weapon. Count to ten in your head when I drop this," she held up an unarmed grenade from her satchel, "and fire."

"Agreed." he said. He knew neither of them would cheat. They couldn't, for they were both taught to count the same way: slowly and deliberately. They both stared at each other stoically. Her outstretched arm held the grenade. In the eternity it took her to drop the grenade, Goldeneye thought through what he had to do. He sighed, and closed his eyes. He heard the crunch as the grenade was dropped to the ground. 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1… He counted these slowly, just listening to her shuffle and predicting the outcome. And then he acted.

He opened his eyes, and watched in slow motion as she raised her pistol. He did not move. But his Golden Eye twitched watching his death come to him. His vision went kaleidoscopic for the last time as he switched to his most deadly function: Psi-I.

And as he saw her squeeze back the trigger, he acted. He looked out towards the grey valley below, into the river. He thought of her, and then he thought of what he wanted to do. The eye obeyed his command. He did not look at her as she was lifted off of the ground. He did not hear her scream, or feel her shot whistle past his cheek as it narrowly missed him, kicking the snow up behind him. He did, however, watch as her body entered his vision from the right, flying in midair as if of its own accord. He watched her as the magnetic field violently flung her mercilessly over the railing, and he watched as her flailing body was sent plummeting into the snowy landscape never to be seen again. Her scream faded into the air, the echo lingering, but also vanishing in time. And that was it. His final fight had been won. He hadn't quite cheated…but he hadn't quite come by it honestly either.

And Goldeneye turned his back to that grey world, and slowly walked the way he had come. 2 of his vitality remained. His steps were heavy and arduous. He felled to his knees, looking at the blackened ruin he had created just moments earlier. His eye could heal him in seconds. If he wanted it to. But he was the best, and it would remain that way. He was never returning from whence he came. But somehow he knew it was better that way.

But as he watched in blurred vision as his health dropped to 1. He slowly lied down in the snow, closing his eyes. He did not see his vitality drop to zero, but he didn't need to. He wanted to die, and his last thought was not of where he was headed. He did not care.

The real hell, in his mind, was not pain and suffering. He'd endured enough of that here. The grey slipped into blackness, and then he truly felt no more. But for his last movement, he allowed himself a satisfactory grin. He smiled for the first time since he was a child, the need for an impassive mien no longer a necessity. Because the hell that he was surely entering would not ever match his real fear.

The real hell, he realized, was having no one left for him to fight.