To Die Forever

A James Bond Story

"What!" Both Bond and Mullen burst out at the same time. "Surely you can't be serious, he looks like my grandfather?" Mullen exclaims. Bond is surprised; he doesn't look that old does he? And this teen acts like he is a hot-shot. He reminds Bond of Tom Cruise's character in that god-awful Top Gun. Just a younger version. M shrugs his shoulders.

"Yes I am. You two are working together, like it or not." He looks like he is enjoying this. Bond glares icily at him, and then turns to Mullen.

"Fine, might as well get this over with." He grumbles, and holds out his hand for Mullen to shake. "The names Bond, James Bond." Mullen looks at him, his face a blank mask. Who did this guy think he is? Just some idiotic kid who spent all day moping about girls and spots. He still shakes his hand, whilst glaring back at Bond.

"Jake Mullen." He then flops back into his seat. "Now what did you get me and Layer Cake here for?"

"Layer Cake?" Bond asks, confused by the nickname.

"Yeah, you look like the main guy off Layer Cake." Bond's expression doesn't change. "Really, you've never seen Layer Cake? Get a life." Mullen is obviously not impressed.

"That's a little harsh from someone who should be playing Call of Duty, not living it."

"Could say the same about you gramps." Mullen replies to Bond's mocking comment with a smirk. Bond is getting irritated now.

"You two finished, or do I have to listen to your bickering again?" M asks the two 00's. They both are silenced instantly. Bond nods at M to continue.

"Right, I'm sure you've both heard about the bomb attacks last week?" They both nodded, Mullen's expression changing from surprise and sarcasm to a steely, dangerous look, what he called his 'work face'. Who hadn't? Five bombs had gone off, all over the centre of London. Trafalgar Square, London Eye, all the major tourist attractions had been hit. There had been over two thousand dead, with ten times that number injured. It was already being called the worst terrorist attack in history. "You two are going to kill the people who did it."

"So where are we headed. Afghanistan, Pakistan, Saudi?" Bond asks. The reports were that it was a Middle-Eastern terrorist cell, with links to Al-Qaeda.

"Try a little closer to home. Ireland." M answers.

"But I thought it was some jihadi's in dish-dash? Why Ireland?" Mullen joins in the conversation. M pulls a file out of his desk.

"That's the official line. We need a reason to stay in Afghanistan, so we can finish destroying the poppies they grow there." It is a well-known fact that the Taliban grow poppies to make into heroin, funding both their cause and most of the drug dealers and smugglers in the world.

"So we're using the attack as a way to do it." Bond replies, his voice level and monotonous. It is a sign that he is angry. He hates it when this cloak and daggers stuff goes on. As an ex-naval officer, Bond despises moves like this, which takes advantage of innocent civilian deaths and would cause more military. M grimaces, the ex-SAS soldier probably feeling the same way.

"The real perpetrators were a splinter cell of the PIRA, led by this man." M opens the file he pulled out earlier. Inside is a passport photo of a lean man, with a mop of black hair that was losing the battle against greying and hazel eyes that glared at the camera, showing a cunning intelligence. "Shane McDougal. Dual nationality, American and Irish. Served with the US Army Rangers in Gulf War One and Somalia, then came back to Ireland and started kicking things up there. Mostly covert things, beatings, the occasional murder. He's wanted for over fifty cases of assault, and five of murder. His hobbies include torture, bomb-making and golf. The PM wants his head, and you two are going to give it him on a silver platter."

"When do we start?" Mullen asks, his tone serious. Bond is surprised by his change in attitude. He thought Mullen would be a lot less serious about him. A well-worn phrase sums up Bond's surprise. Don't judge a book by its cover.

"As soon as the pair of you are ready." M answers. "You'll need to visit the Q branch to receive your equipment. After that, happy hunting gentlemen." He finishes speaking, and gestures for the two 00's to exit. They stand up from their seats and walk out the door.

As the two walk towards Q branch, Bond begins talking to Mullen.

"Have you even killed a man before?" He asks first, sceptical of the boy's skills.

"Several. Have you?" Mullen replies, without looking at Bond.

"What do you think?" Bond snaps irritably.

"No." Mullen replies with a smirk. They continue walking, Bond's polished parade shoes from his days in the Navy a stark contrast to Mullen's trainers.

"You're wrong." Bond says, slightly embarrassed by Mullen's comment.

"I know. Just from a cursory glance though, I though you were a desk jockey. Who in MI6 hasn't heard of James Bond?" Mullen now turned to Bond. They were of similar height, with Bond having a slight advantage.

"True. Apparently I am quite the legend." The older man shrugs, scratching his stubble.

"You need to shave." Mullen suddenly says. "And change your gun."

"Why the latter?" Bond knows he needs to shave; he makes a mental note to do it in the morning.

"Walther PPK, great compact little pistol." Mullen makes a small gun using his fingers. "But a bit short for fire-fights, better for close-up, or threatening. Whereas my Glock," Mullen points to the Glock 17 he has, whilst making the finger gun larger, "has four more rounds than your Walther, as well as a longer range. Pound for pound, it's lighter too, although, I am thinking about changing it for the Sig 229 in .357. What do you think?" Bond is again surprised by Mullen's knowledge of firearms.

"I prefer my Walther, just a personal choice. Personally, I think the Sig is a great gun, but isn't .357 a bit of overkill?" Bond asks. The .357 Sig round has great stopping power, more than enough to kill a man with one bullet to the chest, but it is powerful.

"Ammo conservation." Mullen simply replies. "One .357 round is worth at least two 9mm, in my opinion, just a personal choice." Mullen mocks Bond's previous choice of words, still with that smirk. The two walk up to the double doors of the Q branch, which they open simultaneously. Inside, as always, is a team of the best minds in the country, running round like six-year-olds.

"Hey, give me a go on the machine-gun briefcase!" James hears one complain to someone else, who is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, holding a briefcase that is smoking at one end. The two 00's, Mullen surprised, for once, Bond unfazed, as nearly always, walk down the room to the mind behind the madness.

"Bond! Good to see you. Heard about the mission. And your new partner." Q greeted Bond with a handshake, before turning to Mullen. "Mr Mullen. Your reputation precedes you. I'm the head of Q Branch." Q greeted him, before shaking his hand also.

"We came to see you about some equipment." Bond said bluntly, after the pleasantries were dealt with. Q nodded with understanding.

"Ah, yes. Time for some fun." He said gleefully, rubbing his hands together with a somewhat sinister smile smothered onto his face.

A/N: I am SO sorry about this huge update span. If you are reading this, thank you for bearing with me. I've pretty much put this chapter up so you don't think I'm dead and turned into a zombie or something (we all know it's coming). So, please, read, review, favourite and follow. See you next time!