Chapter 4.
When Things Get Out of Hand
The next time the team came together to 'hang out', Q had a feeling they had gone way too far, but wisely kept his mouth shut. What did he know about spending time with friends, anyway?
Still, as he stood rooted to the spot, watching the one named 'Cutter' deliver a good kick to the nearby trash bin, making it tip over and pour its smelly contents onto the pavement, he just didn't understand what the others found so 'funny', 'cool' and especially 'brave' about it… What did one need bravery to attack a small inanimate object for? Not that it could fight back or anything… Q, who watched agents go into real life-threatening situations day by day without batting an eye, certainly had a completely different definition for being daring. But he was not normal – they were.
"That's the perfect spot." – Declared 'Dino' proudly, kicking the poor, abused bin further away. Bobby opened his enormous backpack, and for the first time, revealed its secrets to Q.
"Spray paints? What are these for?" – Asked the confused newest member, never having used anything like that before.
"Well, for drawing on the wall, of course!" – At the Quartermaster's confused expression, Gary added. – "Graffiti, man! Cool, ain't it?" – He said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever and Q were stupid not to have thought about it on his own.
"What!? But that will damage the wall…"
The others just laughed at him, some already selecting their color for the picture they wanted to make.
"Come on, Rocky, don't be such a spoilsport! Grab one and… let your imagination run wild!" – Encouraged Aaron with a friendly wink.
"NO!" – All the young men stopped to look at him bewildered. – "I mean… I'm… well… not very… ahm… artistic… I can't draw to save my life." – He added apologetically, in reality not having intention of ruining someone else's possession. That was just not him.
"Then write." – Shrugged Smokey, already having turned back to the wall. The others followed his example.
For lack of a better idea, Q quickly drew a small π – the Greek letter for pi – in plain white paint. He instantly felt bad about it and hoped it would come off the next time it rained – though he somehow doubted it.
"No offense, Rocky, but… what's that?"
"Nothing. I told you; I'm not artistic."
J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B
"Hey, Rocky!" – Shouted Aaron after him as he was about to head home for the night.
"Yeah?"
His friend caught up to him, looked around to check that nobody could hear him and continued in a decidedly quieter tone.
"Next Sunday is the third anniversary of Brian's death. You know what that means?" – Q just shook his head. He didn't know and honestly didn't really care either. He felt horrible: his head was pounding as if he had a whole rock band drumming in there and he could barely keep his eyes open. It was evident that alcohol and weed didn't mix well with him, even if he was getting used to simple smoke by now. (Though he still even had some trouble with that if his current nausea was anything to go by…) He had no idea how he'd even get himself all the way to Vauxhall the next day, let alone how he'd be able to deal with minions and Double-Os, and perform all his tasks with the hangover he was sure to expect. – "Brian was my older brother. He was 32 when he died." – Aaron explained, obviously missing the other man's inner turmoil.
"Oh. I'm sorry, man. It sucks. What happened?"
"He was shot by cops." – The statement was just that: a cold explanation, lacking any emotions. Just an answer to an innocent question. That didn't stop Q from a double take.
"What!?"
"He was just fooling around. His gun wasn't even loaded properly. He just wanted money, you know? He wanted to frighten the employees of the bank but didn't want to hurt anyone. The cops didn't care. They just shot him because he refused to give himself up. Those stupid idiots!" – He hit a nearby tree in a sudden aggressive outburst. – "He wouldn't have hurt anyone!"
By now Aaron had dropped the 'cool' façade and his head was getting redder by every word he spat. Q just stood there, absolutely unable to move and had no idea how to react to that at all. Realizing that the other clearly expected some kind of answer from him, he shook his head in denial.
"It's… wow… horrible. I can't believe it." – That part was at least true. He really couldn't believe it: what kind of people had he gotten himself surrounded with!?
"Yes. So, I hope you're free on Sunday, because we're going to get revenge."
"What!? How…?"
"There's that small bank where we just walked by today, remember?"
"Yeah…"
"It's really small and the area isn't so great either. It's not very well protected. We'll do what Brian wanted: go there, frighten everyone and get the money. Just that simply. To honor my brother."
"NO! Aaron, don't be stupid! You'll end up just like your brother! Robbing a bank… it's not something to joke with. Especially in times like that… The police will handle you like some terrorists! They'll shoot first and ask questions later. This is crazy!"
"What, are you afraid?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact: I am!"
"Pity. I thought you were my friend. Turns out you're just a little baby. I bet you still wet the bed at night, hmmm?"
"Aaron, listen to me: I. Am. Your. Friend. But I don't want to rob a bank. And believe me, neither do you."
The older man grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.
"Well, I'm done playing around like a little kid. It's time to really do something. You're either in or not, but you have to know: if you won't come with us now, you'd better never show yourself again. I mean it. We're in it together if we're a team. For Brian."
This couldn't continue like that. It just couldn't. Q couldn't just walk away and let them get themselves killed; he owed them that much at least. There was only one way out of it…
"All right. I'm in."
J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B
"M! We need to talk!" – Panted Q, all but running into M's office early in the morning the next day, causing Moneypenny to look after him worriedly as he hurried past her without even really glancing into her direction. He had barely been able to contain himself the night before; had nearly called his boss at least three times before finally convincing himself that a few hours wouldn't make any difference.
"Q… What happened? You look… sorry to say, but you look really horrible."
"There's something you have to know… I did… stupid things. And now I'm in trouble." – The Quartermaster hung his head. Admitting this was much harder than he would have thought possible but there was just no way around it now. He had gotten himself into this mess and now it was up to him to try and get out of it somehow.
"Tell me everything." – Instructed M sternly, not looking nearly as surprised as Q had expected him to be at a revelation like that.
So, he did tell the man all that had been going on with him in the last few weeks.
"… and now I don't know what to do. They won't listen to me. I just… don't know. Sir." – He finished slightly out of breath, face red from plain embarrassment about his behavior. Telling the happenings like this, everything seemed even worse than when he had been there, doing them.
M was silent for a long time, just watching him with a completely blank, unreadable expression. Finally, he leaned back in his leather chair and asked gently.
"How did that happen, Q? Why did you even mix with folks like that? That's not you."
Q could instantly feel his temper rising at that.
"With all due respect, sir: You have no idea what I'm like." – Silence again for two whole minutes, during which Q had regretted his outburst. What was happening to him!? He was here to ask for help and still lashed out at the man who he wanted help from! What kind of an idiot was he, really!? – "I'm so sorry, it was uncalled for."
"Yes, it was. Listen, Q; I get it. This job… it's not easy. You lead a whole department, deal with agents, witness horrible things… And you're a genius; your IQ sets you apart from most people. You were looking for friends, for 'normal'; whatever it is. I get this part. I just don't know how you ended up in the worst possible company… Cigarettes, alcohol and even drugs. Q, really?"
"I don't understand it myself. It just happened." – The young man admitted miserably.
"Well, be that as it may: I'm glad you've finally come to me. Better late than never, right? Needless to say, we all have noticed something going on, we just couldn't really pinpoint it yet."
"What do you mean by 'all'? The others… Eve… Tanner… Agents…?"
"Yes, and your co-workers. Q, you haven't been yourself; I mean the Quartermaster we thought we know; ever since that time I convinced you to take your first day off. Now I wish I hadn't done that… Then again, otherwise maybe we'd never have learnt that you're unhappy here. For that, I'm very sorry, and we'll need to talk about it at a later time. Right after we'll have sorted out this problem at hand."
"Yes, sir." – Q knew he wouldn't get out of a reprimand. And he didn't want to: he felt he deserved it. – "But what do we do? Even if I don't show on Sunday; they will still attack. They'll get themselves and everyone else in the bank killed. Innocent people… And whatever you may think: they are no terrorists either. They don't deserve this! These are deluded stupid kids who never had a chance. Please, M, do something!"
The leader of MI6 thought about things for a moment.
"Lots of things you've done are crimes. Minor ones, true, but crimes nonetheless. Whatever we do now, it will come to light and others will learn about them. But there's a way out: we'll work with the police together. We get you into the gang as a covert agent, we'll pretend you've been working like that the whole time. You will show on Sunday and you'll go in with them. You won't tell them anything, but everyone inside the bank will be prepared. No civilians."
"M, I… don't know what to say. This would mean I'll get away with the things I did."
"This would even mean you'd get praised for your excellent work. Nobody has to know the truth… This conversation will never get out of this room. Officially, it never even took place. You came here to report to me about your undercover mission. Everyone here will have to believe I knew all along, just wasn't able to tell them because of secrecy. We can argue we needed someone like you, because no agent could possibly have pulled this off believably with that group of young men. We needed someone of your character. Someone they could relate to. Not a Double-O who projects confidence and strength. They'll have to accept this explanation." – M nodded to himself, satisfied with his plan.
"And the police? What will we tell them? MI6 shouldn't handle homeland operations. Especially not 'simple' ones like that."
"Let the police be my problem. They owe me anyway. You'll be on loan with them. We'll do the paperwork and all. But Q, you need to understand: this will be dangerous. I know you're not a field agent and still, this time you'll be required to go in armed and ready to use your gun if needed. Can you do that? I know your marksmanship is excellent; you're the one who develops and tests everything the agents use out there after all; but I also know you've never shot at a person before."
"I… don't want to shoot at a person now either. But should it be needed… yes. I think I can do it." – M continued looking him in the eyes expectantly. – "I know I can do it."
"Excellent."
J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B
Sunday came entirely too quickly for Q's liking. By that time, everyone had been told their little story and – not a great surprise there – nobody was impressed with the plan.
Tanner hadn't talked to M ever since, except for when it was really necessary for the job. Gone were their friendly conversations and the chess games. Moneypenny held a grudge as well, everyone could see that. She had even gone as far as to 'forget' to buy lump sugar for M's morning coffees.
But out of everyone, Bond and Trevelyan had been the most vocal about their misgivings:
"M, you can't be serious! Have you totally lost your mind? The boffin isn't an agent, you can't just send him into a situation like that! That's what we are here for! We protect people like Q, not send them to their possible death! Besides, couldn't local police handle this? This is hardly anything for MI6." – Argued Alec, gesticulating wildly, looking for all the world like he wanted to strangle someone. That someone being M, most probably.
"006, I didn't ask for your opinion on the matter. Q and I have been cooperating with the police on this job for weeks and now that it is finally coming to an end, he naturally has to be there. End of the story."
James shook his head in denial.
"I don't see why it had to be him. His not a police officer and he's not trained for this. He is the Quartermaster, for God's sake, he should be working from here. Be in safety."
"007, you'll be ready to protect him, should it be necessary. That's why I told you. But I'm confident our genius can hold his own. Have faith."
So, that was how Q had ended up standing with his 'friends' outside the bank early in the morning on a sunny but cold Sunday, trying very hard to hide the fact that his heart was about to jump out of his chest from sheer terror of what awaited them.
"Nervous?" – Guessed Aaron. So much for hiding it then…
"Just a bit. I told you, I'm not happy about this. But it's for your brother, and because of that, I'm with you guys."
"That's the spirit! So, come on, everyone. Let's go inside." – They checked their fake guns for the hundredth time, making sure they looked real enough to frighten everyone in there (or in Q's case, ensuring the others wouldn't notice that his gun was, in fact, very real…), and walked up to the entrance with forced calmness.
The masks they had pulled over their faces made it very hard to see properly and Q felt his palms get slippery with sweat. He wished he were anywhere but here and vowed again never to become a field agent. But now he had to do this. He deserved having to do this. It was all his fault anyway.
Once inside, Aaron shouted to get the attention of the people inside who, Q was aware, already knew they were coming. All of them played the frightened hostages perfectly thought and the group of criminals, minus Q, thought for a moment that everything was going according to plan.
Spikey snatched a plain black sack and handed it over to the 'worker' behind the counter to fill it with money.
"Quickly. Do it. MOVE!"
"Nobody else does anything. One wrong movement, and I'll shoot!" – Warned Dino the others.
The nervous Quartermaster looked around, waiting for the agreed cue. He knew the police wanted to wait until the robbers had the money and tried to leave the place, and he could see it would come to that point any minute now.
And then, it happened. As Spikey turned with the filled sack securely held in his hand, the bank was stormed. At the same time, the 'extras' dropped their act altogether, and all of them produced guns seemingly out of nowhere. The robbers were surrounded.
"Aaron McCormack. You and your accomplices are arrested." – Said one of the officers, nearing them with handcuffs. Aaron panicked and started to wave around his fake gun.
"I'm going to shoot! If you don't let us go, I'll kill you!" – He threatened, not very convincingly as the wavering of his voice betrayed his real feelings. He was horrified.
Q took off his mask and turned to his friend before he too, just like his brother had done, would get himself killed.
"Aaron. It's over. Come on, don't be stupid. The place is packed with police officers, there's nowhere to go. Give up and you'll be fine. They won't shoot if you cooperate."
All the members of the gang turned to him with disbelief on their faces. Gary was the first to find his voice.
"You? You dirty sneak!"
"Traitor!" – Shouted Bobby. – "Aaron, it's all your fault, you brought a Judas to our group!"
Aaron seemed very uncertain, momentarily even forgetting their not so favorable position.
"Rocky? Is that true? Did you betray us? Is that why the cops are here?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. But this is too much. You have to realize it. You've gone too far and I tried to warn you but you wouldn't listen. I can't let you rob banks and frighten innocent people. I'm so sorry." – He turned away, not bearing to look them into the eyes any longer. – "Officer. You may take them away."
"Bastard! I trusted you! I took you in! I'm going to kill you!" – Shouted Aaron, suddenly attacking him forcefully.
Q was knocked to the ground from behind with full force. He heard shouting and two gunshots. He felt the air being squeezed from his lungs because of the fall and a sharp pain in his left shoulder. For that, he didn't know the exact reason.
Then everything went black.
