Setting up the trap had taken less than two hours. It hadn't been unlike the time he had placed such bread crumbs for another wanted person. Silva. Back then he had carefully placed a lead for the former MI6 agent-turned-traitor to follow Bond to his old family lodge. Now he was leaving carefully worded hints for the werewolf killer to follow, leading them to a supposed ally and friend.

The waiting was the hardest part. Waiting for a response. Waiting for any kind of contact to be made.

Q spent it talking to Finch. He was getting to know the cipher little by little, though he knew he had yet to actually crack the core, find out who this man had been and what had happened to him. Finch had told him that yes, he was dead. He had died a few years ago on paper and no one knew he was still there, active, able to access the machine.

They talked about how he had found Reese, had offered him this second chance, had brought him back to life in so many ways. Q had been fascinated by how quickly their relationship had progressed, how Finch had commanded Reese's loyalty without knowing what the man truly was.

"I knew he had been part of a pack," Finch had told him. "I didn't know what he was; only that he wasn't a werewolf. He never showed what he was in the slightest. Mr. Reese has himself under tight control."

"Now you know," Q commented.

"It changes nothing."

"Of course not. But you know his loyalty to you is absolute."

There had been silence on the line. Finch knew; and it had touched him deeply. Q was sure of it.

He enjoyed their conversations. Finch was given a few tidbits about the quartermaster as well and he was very curious about the whole technopathic abilities. Knowing the man was a cipher had Q give him a few hints.

Felix Leiter called twice. Snow was getting more and more restless, was demanding to be allowed to hunt the killer, but the CIA was keeping him under control. The question was for how much longer. He was an alpha without a pack, a loner now, and he was seething with rage. His pack had been exterminated, aside from one hellhound who was MIA, and it was tearing him apart,

Bond explored New York, got to know the area they were planning to set the trap, as well as his temporary 'territory'. Sometimes he was shadowed by Reese, sometimes they met up over a hot dog or coffee. They didn't really talk much, but they still exchanged information in their own way.

Agents, Q thought. It was so typical.

x X XX x

It took almost forty-eight hours of patience for the first message to be left for Reese from an unknown source.

'They deserved it' was all that was left under an encrypted address.

Finch was impressed, as was Q, who had a direct comm. line open to the other man. Both were trying to discover where the message had come from.

"Internet café," Finch finally said.

"They have cameras," Q remarked.

He could almost imagine the smile on Finch's face. "Already checking. I have the time stamp. It will take a while. Let's answer our friend first."

The exchange was slow, hours between each text. It gave both Finch and Q time to hunt for the mysterious killer, but whoever it was, he was good. The surveillance cameras at the internet café had been strategically placed, but one of the ten places was almost invisible. That had been the one the killer had used. There was no image.

It didn't stop Bond from going to the café to have a look around, ask a few questions.

The man behind the register wasn't sure who had used the computer. It had been a cash payment and since it had been around lunch time when he had relieved a colleague, he wasn't sure who had been there already and who had paid him for the computer use.

"He's good," Q murmured.

"Agency," Bond replied. "Definitely a former agent."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

Q didn't ask for an explanation, simply passed on the information to Finch.

"I believe Mr. Bond is correct. I have received another message for Mr. Reese, this time from a disposable cell. It was already disposed of, of course."

"What did it say?"

"It was a proposal to meet."

Q raised his eyebrows. "Already? Well, I'm surprised."

"The killer knows who Mr. Reese is, 007. He was part of the pack who has been eliminated one by one. Either the killer is getting to his next victim or he sees Reese as an ally because he is different from the werewolves."

"I'll run a check on Reese's old acquaintances and colleagues. I might have missed something." Q grimaced at that thought and he heard Bond chuckle.

"As if you would, Q," he said with an affectionate note.

"Yes, very hard to believe, but it's never a mistake to recheck everything."

"You do that."

And Q did.

In the meantime, Bond prowled through New York, doing whatever an agent did when he wasn't busy hunting a mark.

* x X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX x

The call came just as Q was done leaving an electronic trail that led to John Reese and would hopefully catch the attention of the killer.

"Agent Leiter, what can I do for you?" Q asked politely.

"Is Bond around?" Leiter asked without a greeting, sounding slightly stressed.

"He is currently in the field. I can patch you into the comm. line."

"Thanks."

Q did just that, informing his agent of the incoming call.

"Felix?" Bond asked.

"Snow has disappeared," Leiter said without preamble.

"Disappeared?"

"He was with the White pack, in protective custody. Tom White, the alpha, said he was restless, angry, attack-happy, but he was keeping himself under control and didn't shift. He was sometimes going head-to-head with White, but for a werewolf he was civil."

"How could he disappear from a pack?" Q wanted to know.

Leiter sighed. "Wish I had an answer, Q. The pack tried to track him, but he's good. Of course he is. He ran black ops and he knows how to mask his scent for others like him."

"So he might be after the killer on his own?"

"Yes. Or the killer already got to him."

Bond muttered something uncomplimentary about alpha wolves.

"Thank you, Felix," he said out loud. "We'll keep an eye out for him."

"Yeah. Let's hope you won't find a body."

And with that the call ended.

"You there, Q?"

"Always," Q answered easily.

"Ideas?"

"Concerning Snow? No. We should concentrate on our own plan right now. Should Snow intervene, we'll deal with it."

It was a plan as good as any.

"I'll let Mr. Finch know," Q continued. "Then we wait for the killer to hopefully contact Mr. Reese."

"Any plans for dinner?" Bond asked casually.

The quartermaster chuckled. "Surprise me."

Bond echoed the amusement.

x X XX x

He did surprise Q.

* x X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX x

When the killer finally made the next move, things sped up.

Exponentially.

The trap was ready. They had a place, knew every corner, every nook and every cranny. Bond and Reese would take down the suspect, then the CIA would be called in. The NYPD wouldn't be involved. While Reese trusted Carter and had another detective working for him, neither was equipped to deal with a werewolf killer. They suspected it was another werewolf and taking one of them down for good was almost impossible without help.

Reese was ready. He had exchanged a few messages with the pack killer, though still had no idea who it might be. The man knew him, that was clear. Some remarks had been personal, but not revealing.

What neither had expected was for their target to be completely aware of what they had planned. For James Bond was suddenly faced with a werewolf who had been expecting him, who had waylaid him, who kept him from reaching the target area.

Because their target was now the hunter.

"Shit!" Q whispered. "Finch!"

"John is already on his way."

But he was at the meeting place, several blocks away.

x X XX x

The thing about chasing a werewolf down a dark alleyway was that they were fast. Very, very fast. The wolf was still humanoid in shape, but with claws, fangs and pointed ears, as well as a lot of hair growth.

Bond was darting after the shadowy thing that was barely more than a blip on his radar, gun out, breath hissing through his teeth. He was fit, in shape, more than ever now that the phoenix was out of the box and free to roam, but the supernatural had an advantage.

It was insane to watch the dark figure jump over fences and climb walls. The Double-Oh agent had a hard time keeping the wolf in his line of sight and something niggled in the back of his mind.

He skidded around a corner and was just fast enough to evade a handful of claws lashing out at him. Eyes glowed in the dark and he heard a vicious growl, then he was pushed back with enough force to bruise his ribs, and the werewolf was off and running once more.

Playing, he thought darkly. He was playing.

He aimed his gun and fired.

A yelp was the answer.

But the wolf still disappeared into the open doorway of a building.

Damn!

"White's pack is still fifteen minutes from your position," Q informed him, voice calm and even and very much his handler right now.

"Tell them to drive faster!" he hissed and slipped into the building, all senses on alert.

"Reese is closing in from the other side."

He didn't reply, eyes scanning for the werewolf.

The building must have been part of the railway once. There were old, rusted rails set into the concrete floor and the size and height of the building suggested it might have been a service station. Bond wasn't sure since he had lost track of where exactly they were in the harbor area after the chase. Judging from the dust and the debris everywhere, it had been out of use for decades.

The light coming in from the outside was blurred and barely illuminating the floor. The windows were smeared, some broken.

He moved silently into the structure, hearing nothing but the muted sounds from outside, seeing no movement.

But the werewolf was here.

The phoenix was bristling with the knowledge of another predator close by, wanting to bury its claws in the other.

"Did you really think I would be so easy to trap?"

The voice was deceptively soft, clearly female, and it held a growl that spoke of the true nature of the woman now stepping out of the shadows.

"Bond pointed the gun at her, but Kara Stanton only smiled derisively. Her eyes turned a golden orange, her features shifting into a much more ferocious visage. Not fully wolf, no longer human either, but clearly supernatural. Her hands now featured long, sharp claws and her movements became more lithe. Her ears looked larger, more pointed, slightly swept back, and the teeth were longer. As she moved, her body flowed through the transformation like it was made of liquid instead of solid material.

Werewolves were able to shape-change, though not all managed a fully lupine form. Some were the hulking figure out of horror movies, stuck between two shapes, but still a very deadly and effective killing machine.

Stanton's clothes were close to ripping.

"You look surprisingly good for a dead wolf, Agent Stanton," Bond said conversationally.

"Fool," she growled.

Yes, he had been a fool.

"It was a trap," Q murmured in his ear, sounding impressed despite the fact that their own trap had become one for Bond.

"Did you think you would be a match for a werewolf?" she mocked.

Bond cocked an eyebrow.

"I can take you out with a swipe," Stanton added, smiling viciously.

"Maybe. But now we know who to hunt."

She chuckled. "So what? I did what I came to do. They paid for their sins."

The ugly memories of Silva rose, of M's death, of his taunts that she would pay for her sins.

"So you found Snow?"

She circled him and Bond followed her movements with sharp eyes. "He will get what he deserves."

Stanton grinned widely, showing sharp teeth in a no longer human mouth. Her features had begun to shift further. She gestured toward a darker corner of the building and a light snapped on.

Nice party trick, Bond thought.

And there was Snow. Bound to a chair with ropes that must have been reinforced to hold a werewolf, but then again she might have drugged him. He looked barely conscious and the shallow wounds must have been much more painful, a lot deeper, before his healing abilities had kicked in.

Clearly drugs, he decided.

Werewolves were fast healers and Snow's body shouldn't have taken so long to close the last cuts. So it had to be drugs and who if not another werewolf of Stanton's caliber would know better about what to use?

"Then your mission is over, Agent Stanton," Bond stated.

"It will never be over."

"Too bad."

"Kara."

She tensed and whirled around, her growl turning into a surprised rumble. "John."

Reese stepped out of the shadows, gun in hand, face a mask. His eyes, silver-ringed, were filled with surprise.

"Why?" he only asked.

Stanton just laughed and it held a note Bond didn't like. Not hysterical, not insane, just slightly out of touch with reality in a very bad and dangerous way.

"You know why!" she spat.

And just how dangerous she was, how close she was teetering on the edge of an abyss, showed when, without warning, she lashed out at Bond, claws swiping over his chest and drawing blood.

Her speed was insane and he didn't have a chance. No human stood a chance against a werewolf, not even a preternatural like the phoenix.

Bond fired his gun, hitting her left shoulder, but like all werewolves she had a very high threshold for pain, one surpassing even his own, and she healed very, very fast. The bullet didn't even stop her, like the deep claw marks across his chest didn't bother Bond either.

Much.

For now.

Still, the fight was short.

He was a very good fighter. He had trained relentlessly for all his life, was in perfect shape, was at a level that other Double-Ohs might never reach because of his preternatural status.

But Kara Stanton was a werewolf and they were killing machines.

James had let Reese win, more or less, in their first confrontation. It had been the plan to lure him out, to get him close, and he had tested the waters.

Stanton wasn't Reese.

For one, she was a lot more insane. Actually, she was very far gone.

Bond doubled over when she kicked him in the ribs, probably breaking a few, then Stanton buried her claws in his body again, this time drawing more than superficial wounds.

Her bared teeth were in his face. Her fingers curled in the deep wounds, digging even deeper grooves into his flesh, and he might have screamed.

Bond wasn't sure of anything any more.

He had no time to do more than gasp, then his world shrunk down and he crashed to the floor.

Reese hadn't intervened. Wise decision. Maybe the plan hadn't been for Bond to die, but he had set himself up as bait in a way. She considered him human. An easy kill.

And he was.

Resurrection was going to be a bitch.

She was there, perched over him, talons easily sliding into his soft neck and throat, tearing apart vital tissue.

Blood pooled around him.

Glowing eyes stared at him out of a blood-spattered face.

Stanton bared long fangs and snarled.

"Fool."

Then there was nothing.

tbc...