Here's another part of the story I've done before NaNoWriMo in November. I'll try to get at least one more story up before November, and hopefully several during the month. As always, please read and enjoy!

9:31 AM

French countryside

Bond's eyes snapped open after hearing a clatter in the kitchen.

He assumed the noise was Eamon, but decided to check just to make sure. Leaping from the makeshift bed on the floor, Bond suck toward the kitchen. Eamon was bending over to pick up a plate he had dropped.

Rolling his eyes, James decided to grab some coffee while he was there. Eamon gave him a cursory nod and left the kitchen. His relation to Bourne was still troubling Bond, but he decided that he wouldn't press the issue, not now anyways. He poured himself a cup of coffee. It wasn't bad, and much better than what he was used to. Taking a sip to clear his head, he suddenly realised that he was alone the house with Eamon.

Puzzled, James walked outside to look for Jason and Sonia. He found them uncovering the rental car. "What's going on?" James asked.

"Slept in?" Jason shot back. "We're heading to Paris to meet a contact. We may have found a pilot willing to help us."

Puzzled, James asked, "Is it really so hard to find a pilot?"

"It is if you have to find one that's not only off the grid, but willing to help three fugitives fly to an ARES-held town," said Bourne.

Sonia spoke up, "Not to mention having only a little money to work with."

Bond nodded his agreement, and helped pull the rest of the tarp off. Crossing his arms, James asked, "So who's staying with Eamon? We can't really leave him here by himself while we're still in town."

Sonia pointed at Jason. "He found the pilot, so he goes. You too can go, Mr. Bond." She almost smiled, but smirked instead. "Paris was never my kind of town anyways." She turned on her heel and walked back toward the house, not looking back.

"Well, I guess that settles it," Jason said. "Time to get going then." Bourne got in the driver's seat, and James sat in the back; it gave him a better view to see if they were followed. Starting the car, Jason zoomed out away from the house and onto the roads of the Parisian countryside.

11:24 AM

Paris-Orly Airport, Paris

The roads were crowded around Paris, and even more so at the airport. Luckily, this mysterious pilot had picked a relatively smaller airport to meet at.

Silent for the whole trip, Bond now spoke. "So who exactly is this pilot of yours?"

"Don't know his name, goes by the codename Petrel where I found him," Jason replied.

"All I know is that he's supposed to be off the grid and willing to take us for cheap. Seems good enough to me." James tugged at the pistol in the waistband of his trousers. It never hurt to be too sure when it came to these things.

"And where exactly did you find him?" Bond asked.

Bourne smiled. "The internet."

The pilot wanted to be met at his plane, so the pair walked across the tarmac. The surface was practically boiling; James felt too much like a lobster for his own comfort. On their way, they passed many private jet planes, but none had anyone standing in front.

Briefly, James wondered how easy it would be to simply steal one of those planes for themselves. As they came to the end of the row of planes, they spotted what seemed like an old single-engine propeller plane. Beside it was a figure leaning on the gunmetal-grey surface.

As they came near, Bond realized that the pilot was actually a woman. She was short, and had close-cropped black hair; and was dressed in what seemed to be a military-issue pilot uniform.

She didn't look up until they were almost next to her. Scanning them both, she extended a hand to Jason. "You can call me Kestrel." She spoke in an almost military manner.

However, she smiled when she shook James's hand. "And you can call me Aimee."

Returning her smile, and almost forgetting about revealing his whole name, James said, "The pleasure's all mine."

Jason, meanwhile, had rolled his eyes and was paying more attention to the craft. After their greetings, she introduced them to her plane.

Speaking in English, she said, "This is my baby, a de Havilland DHC-3, one of the best aircraft there is. She'll make 200 kmh easy, and is easier to fly than a paper airplane."

James could see she was enjoying this. Too bad it looked like a piece of junk to him. He supposed it would suit their task, though.

Jason turned to face her. "How good of a pilot are you?"

From her expression, she took it almost as a personal insult. "Monsieur, I am the best stunt pilot in France, and you can ask anyone and they'll tell you. I am your best chance to get to your destination without your 'friends' finding you."

Seeing the expression on Bourne's face, she said, "Don't act like I am stupid. No one who wants me to fly them has a clean record." She smirked. "I see you are no exception."

Changing the subject, Bond asked, "Have you gotten the details of the job?"

Turning towards James and smiling sweetly, Aimee nodded. "I know I am to fly you to Nice. Is that enough?" Jason shook his head yes. "Good," she said. "Now I just need half of the money up front, and the rest later." She rubbed her thumb and middle finger together in the universal sign for money.

Not knowing the finer details of the plan, Bond looked to Jason, who brought a briefcase from the car. Strange, Bond didn't remember it being before. Jason opened it for Aimee to see, then handed it to her.

Bond could see several rows of bills on the inside. For a moment he wondered where Jason had gotten the money, but then decided it best if he didn't know.

She smiled at them both now. "We can leave when you are ready." She made the sign for telephone with her thumb and pinky. "Call me when you are ready." With that, she walked back to the front of her plane; where James could now see was having maintenance done to it.

Jason and Bond began walking back toward their car across the tarmac. "What do you think?" James asked.

"She seems nice, and competent too." Bourne replied. "Bit of an attitude if you ask me."

Bond shook his head and smiled. "I rather liked it, actually."

Jason sighed. "Do you think she'll try anything funny?"

"Doubt it," James replied. "Not after seeing her track record." He thought for a minute. "But be ready, just in case." Jason nodded and patted his hip.

Reaching the car, the pair climbed in; James opted to drive this time. He set the small car in gear and rolled onto the Parisian streets. It would be a long way back to the house.