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"Bartender! Beer for me and my friend here!" Q yelled over the crowd. Bond noted how the bartender dropped everything and went to get what Q had asked for before anyone else. After grabbing the beers, Q said, "Come on Bond, get some expression in that face of yours! Let's sit over here."
He led 007 to a rounded booth. At first it was filled but with only a simple look the booth emptied. Slowly, Bond sat down on one end and Q sat on the other, swiftly moving so that he was right beside Bond instead of in front of him.
"I would ask what you've been up to lately but I already know that," Q said, taking a swig of his beer.
"How? How could you possibly know what I've been up to?"
"I worked for MI6, it wasn't exactly hard to get pass the encryptions. I gotta' tell you; it was fun messing around with all that info."
Bond, if it was even possible, seem to freeze up even more at those words. "006, he died because of misinformation even though we were certain it had been correct before. Was that your doing?"
"Yep, all mine," Q replied, smiling as he did.
"What happened to you Q? What happened to the man that I knew?" Bond asked.
Q rolled his eyes in response as he muttered, "You must be getting deaf in your old age Bond. I told you, Q's not up here anymore." For emphasis, he hit the side of his head with his knuckles.
Deciding simply going along with what he was saying would be for the best right now, Bond tried asking, "Then where is Q? Hmm? Tell me that. Where is my quartermaster?"
"He died. Alone, scared, terrified really. The entire time he waited for you Bond," replied Q, making the o in his name pop. "All alone in the dark he was, hoping to be saved by his little agent and you didn't do a thing."
"I thought you were dead!"
"I'm not dead, not yet but poor little Q is. You should've saved him, helped him but ya' didn't."
"I would've given my life for Q if it were possible."
"I know I know, always the hero aren't you?" muttered Q, shaking his head and sighing loudly. Suddenly, he perked up, the grin on his face growing as he said, "I almost forgot to tell you the great news. You should be proud Bond. I think my body count may have even surpassed yours by now."
"Your what?"
"You heard me correctly the first time, my body count. My first kill was the guy who use to lead the terrorist group. Snapped his neck I did. After that it got so much easier and defiantly more fun too. I didn't know there was so many ways you could kill a guy. If I had, I would've started this much sooner."
Bond's stomach seemed to turn inside out at his words. "How could you even suggest that would make me proud? It's sick Q. Completely and utterly sick."
"My names not Q it's—oh never mind! Still, if you want to see sick look at this."
With a flourish, he pulled his button up shirt down, revealing the skin on his chest. The color was a bright pink compared to the rest of his skin and instead of being smooth, was deformed and distorted; burned.
"Two years. It never did heal completely. I've got more on my back, legs, arms, pretty much everywhere. It was nearly three months of torture that I went through. If I remember correctly, it was the second month when Q finally went."
"There really is nothing left. Q's gone."
"Well, I wouldn't say completely gone," replied Q. "There are certainly some physical features that are the same."
And suddenly he was straddling Bond, his arms on Bond's shoulders and his lips nearly touching the agents when he stopped, his grin widening even more. "You are feistier than I remember."
"Get off me." Bond dug the barrel of his gun deeper into Q's stomach. When he only laughed, Bond repeated himself. This time his voice deepened and a growl seemed to emit from his the back of his throat.
"Alright, fine, be that way," Q replied as he jumped off. "Still, I'd put that gun away right now unless you want to be blown to smithereens."
Bond looked around and saw that a good many people were staring at them and not in the way that people who don't know what's going on stare. These party goers new exactly what was happening around them and exactly who Q was.
"Are they all part of your terrorist group?"
"A good number of them yes, a few simply share our . . . ideals."
"And do you share their ideals?" asked Bond coldly.
"Not really. I just do this for fun," Q replied, grinning manically. He took one last swig of his beer and then moved over and was finally up on his feat again. "Well, I've gotta' say this was much more fun than I expected it to be. I guess I'll see you around Bond."
"You do know that I'm not just here for the fun of it. This is a mission I'm on."
"I know."
"Then why not kill me right now?"
"You still don't get it do you," Q replied laughing. "This is a game, I want; I've wanted you to come find me. I'm curious how you'll do against all that I have planned for you."
"Telling me all this certainly won't help you."
"Oh believe me I know. I'll be waiting for you, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, a week at the most. Can't wait to see what you come up with Bond. Until then," and with that Q disappeared into the crowd.