I have been neglecting you, my readers! I apologize deeply! But this silly chapter refused to be written. I know where I want to go, but I couldn't find a place to start. Grrr...

Furious, Bond strides out of the main office area, bypassing a startled Eve. The new secretary stares after the double-oh, wondering what on earth made him act like that. Bond tends not to let anything-or anyone-get on his nerves, but maybe Mallory has a special talent.

This is going to be fun.

The new Head of M16 steps out of his office and Eve turns her attention to him. Mallory watches Bond turn a corner and then sighs.

"Sir, is everything alright?" Eve dares to ask. 007's paperwork lays open on her desk, the pages in the middle of being looked over. It seems that the report on Mr. Silva will have to wait until later.

"No," M says, exasperated, "How did she deal with these double-ohs?"

"With humor and a tolerant attitude, I suspect." Eve offers with a small smile. As helpful as the double-ohs are, they're notorious for being difficult to handle. And that doesn't even scratch the surface with 007.

M makes a sound of agreement, "I don't know how she managed. They're worse than some of these terrorist we hunt down."

"That's why we have them, sir."

"Keep an eye on 007 for me, Eve. I want to know if he's done anything irrational," orders M, and then heads off to check up on the various branches of M16. Eve sighs and turns back to the folder, scanning the pages.

I'll just have to make sure he doesn't get a hold of anything explosive. He'll cool down in a bit. Eve thinks, deciding to give Bond some space. She doesn't want to get her head bitten off.


At the sight of the double-oh striding down the halls, employees and interns scramble to get out of his way. No one dares to make a sound, least they should reflect Bond's mood onto themselves.

Fury roars in the double-oh's ears. Bond takes turn after turn, distancing himself from the problem. It is not the best tactic, but one that keeps blood off the floor. If Bond was in the field and M made such a remark, he wouldn't have known what hit him. But he isn't in the field and M is his superior.

The double-oh realizes where his feet have guided him. Scattered bursts of gun fire shatter the otherwise quiet room. Only a few of the firing lanes have agents honing their aim.

Bond pauses, and relaxes his shoulders to forget everything. He picks a lane towards the center, a similar distance from the exit and entry points. And the double-oh focuses on the target ahead of him, black lines bold against the white background.

After a few shots, Bond halts in his shooting and studies the board. He swears under his breath, pulling out of his shooting stance. The holes from the bullets miss the center of the chest, straying near the lower right side.

Of course, Bond thinks with disgust, rolling his right shoulder. The bullet wound pulls, protesting. Nothing has changed since I took that test.

The double-oh turns away from the shooting range and heads back into the old passage ways that is M16's compound.

Silva was right. I am not ready.


Q gauges how his employees are working when the Quartermaster hears the almost inaudible sound of footsteps. Everyone single person scrambles to their own desk to work in silence. No one's eyes stray from their tasks. There are only three people in M16 that could quiet everyone in the room without a word, and Q can rule out one.

Bond appears at Q's side, blue eyes narrowed. Even without really looking at Bond, the young man can tell the double-oh's mood borderlines fury, if his tight expression is anything to go by.

Q, looking up from his laptop, knows better than to play their usual game of words.

"What is the matter, 007?" He asks in a wary, neutral tone. Q's fingers halt typing as he studies Bond behind his glasses, giving the double-oh his full attention. What could have ever put Bond in such a mood?

"I have been declared unfit for fieldwork." The snarl in Bond's voice would be hard to miss.

"What?" Q says, blinking, "But M passed you. I heard her myself," The Quartermaster replies, shocked. The other employees in Q branch listen into the conversation as they work.

"I didn't pass it," Bond admits in a low tone, only loud enough for Q to hear him. The double-oh shifts his gaze to the room. Some of the techs discover their paper work is more interesting than the conversation at hand. His blue eyes snap back to the Quartermaster.

"Yes you did. Barely, but you did." Q insists again, recalling when M-the previous M- had let Bond return to find the terrorists. The double-oh didn't pass with flying colors, but Bond had managed to claw his way to the minimum score.

"No, I didn't, Q. Listen to me," Bond repeats again, regaining the Quartermaster's full attention. Q pauses, and then frowns.

"But that doesn't make any sense…" He murmurs, and then turns to the laptop, fingers flying over the keys. The Quartermaster pauses, reading the report on the screen. He stays quiet for a few moments.

"Then why did she clear you?" Q says to himself, a rhetorical question more than anything else. Bond has no answer.

Q studies the laptop as if it has done him personal offence. Without a word, Q types in commands and a new window pops up. He scrolls through it, eyes flicking from both documents.

"Since the last examination you took in August, your scores have plummeted," Q says, distracted because he still compares the documents.

"I am aware of that, Quartermaster," Bond says with a sarcastic edge, leaning against the Q's table. Q decides not to comment on that one. Both stay silent for a few moments, one of them gathering his thoughts and the other watching the first.

"Is Eve's shot the one that is still bothering you?" inquires the Quartermaster, accepting paperwork from an intern brave enough to approach them.

"No, it is Patrice's," Bond corrects in an impartial tone. He turns his critical gaze back to the room. The double-oh makes notes of the positions of desks and people as an automatic reflex. An important idea that has been drilled into every field agent's head: Be alert and tuned into your surroundings.

"What are you going to do about all of this, then?" Q breaks Bond's thoughts, sipping tea from his Q₁₀ mug as he reads through the papers.

"It is simple; I am going to pass them."

When the Quartermaster looks up, Bond has disappeared. Q's lips twitch in a small smile.

That bloody double-oh.


It is so nice to see everyone again! I am sorry for lack of updates and I will try consistently from now on.

Prosper: You will have to wait until next chapter! ;P

BadassCat: Damn right! Bond=Sexy! Yes, I want the china bulldog back too ;P

Lily: And on Mallory's first day on the job too! ;D