Cast:
- Will Poulter as 007
- Katy M. O'Brian as Valentina Vega
- Peter Capaldi as Q
Whispers from a Serpent's Song
A 007 Adventure
There was a woman sunbathing; of that he was certain.
Even through his bloodied vision he knew it was a woman. He could always recognize a woman, especially one of the proper variety. For, yes, there are cars and watches, but then there are proper cars and watches. There are Packards, and then there are Bentleys. There are Casios, and then there are Pateks. There were women, and then there was the specimen lying before him.
He first caught sight of the sun glistening off of her bronze hips. She was lying on her back, and the light seemed to roll down the plummeting curves of her body before reflecting back with a shine that could be described as hellfire. She tilted her head, with its pinned-back jet-black curls bouncing atop it, backwards to gaze at him, upside down, as he descended from above her. Around her neck was a lattice-work of some strange piece of jewelry. It was a mix of choker, necklace, and collar that spread a diamond-studded silver web of chains from her neck to the edges of her shoulder blades and across the top of her perfectly tanned breasts. Around her waist was the loosely tied string of a bikini bottom that desperately begged to be un-knotted. She wore nothing else.
As he lowered down to the pool-adorned top deck of the double-decker luxury class yacht beneath him, the woman rolled over onto her stomach so that she may have a clearer line of sight with which to shoot him a disarming and alluring smile. She noticeably wriggled her shapely backside into a comfortable position as his dangling feet scraped the wet boards of the poolside deck before her. It was an erotic motion, surely, but also inescapably akin to a cat preparing to pounce.
The suspension crane to whose hook the man found himself bound and desperately hanging from finally came to a grinding halt with his feet touching the ground beneath him by only their tips. He had previously spent the last fifty minutes dangling over the endless blue of the Atlantic Ocean and hoped the relief didn't show on his face for having some of the pressure taken away from his screaming shoulders and wrists. The woman bit her bottom lip and giggled as she swayed her sweaty shoulders back and forth.
He heard four separate clicks as the four hefty, stinking bodyguards around them cocked their four now-loaded berettas. The man couldn't help but smile. It always amused him when someone cocked their gun as a desperate intimidation tactic. As if to say 'oh now I mean business'. What kind of idiot doesn't have his weapon ready before facing an enemy?
The woman rose to her feet, bending and swaying her naked body in every way she could on her way up. The man tilted his head back, allowing some of the sweat and blood to drain from his eyes, and let out a succinct, to-the-point "Damn".
"Feeling a little strung out, good sir?" rolled out of the woman's mouth in a delicious Spanish accent.
"No, quite fine, really.", responded the man politely and with good humor. "My fault, in truth. I neglected to clean the blood out of my eyes after your good man struck me from behind and before your good man hoisted me up with the rest of today's fresh catch. So now I find myself in the face of… truly stunning scenery… and am regrettably blinded."
"I shall happily remove the wool from thine eyes…" she said as her warm hands cupped each side of his head and her thumbs pressed into his closed eyelids. They swiped in each direction and the man found himself staring into the crystal blue eyes of the gorgeous Hispanic woman. "...If you only return the gesture, naturally. I'm flattered to receive company, but I truly do prefer notice given first."
A gruff overweight man whose clothes were so stained the original color could not be guessed at stepped up and held his gun forward and slightly tilted. Another "intimidation" tactic. When he spoke, the hanging man couldn't tell if it was sweat or spittle that shook loose from his fatty jowls. "I found him in cargo bay 6, Miss Vega. He had this on his person." He handed over a small black pistol. Attached to the barrel was a six-inch silencer. The serial number was filed off. "Caught him trying to pick the lock to the access corridors. Most likely trying to enter the engine room."
The woman turned from the suspended man and stared off the stern of the deck, feeling the weight of the gun in her hands. Fifty feet from the massive yacht upon which they stood was anchored a gigantic cargo freighter that took up the entire horizon line. Endless stacks of cargo containers lined the entirety of the hull. It was like a floating city; a massive wall of steel jutting upwards in the middle of the ocean. A hulking suspension crane was anchored into the middle of the freighter, and it now stretched across the gap with its lone, precariously hung occupant suspended over the smaller boat. Besides the two vessels, the only defining scenery was the unending blue abyss that stretched on beyond the point of comprehension in every direction.
She whipped around and her icy eyes pierced like daggers before her warm smile camouflaged the venom. She held the gun aloft. Her grip was casual, but still pointed at him. "I'd like to know the name of my gentleman caller. Will you need to spend some more time above deck for that information? Blistering under the sun and fending off the birds?"
"Certainly not." The man smiled. "The name is Bond. James Bond. MI6."
The icy blue eyes blinked rapidly in response. "You just… You just told me? You're a secret agent, aren't you?"
"Oh I was always rubbish at the 'secret' part. And if it's all the same to you, without being droll, there's really only so many times a man cares to be tortured in life. Shall we save ourselves the trouble?"
"How generous. And why are you here, Mr. Bond?"
"Well if you would be so kind as to point out your employer I'd like to promptly murder him and then buy you lunch."
Her smile was genuine. "You are speaking to my employer. I am Valentina Vega. This is my operation. Does that surprise you?"
"No, but it does very much so disappoint me", replied Bond with a slight shake of the head. "Like wasting good wine on church."
"Ah, do you like wine?" chirped Vega as she turned and strutted over to an elaborate poolside bar. She handed off the gun to the closest guard who holstered his own weapon and glared at Bond's firearm like a shiny new toy. On the counter was a cornucopia of contraband entertainments. Bottles of various heights towered above neatly arranged hypodermic needles and crop-like rows of fine white powder. "Or perhaps some other indulgence? That's all I am, Mr. Bond: A purveyor and a supplier of what you need and what you want. Is MI6 really so concerned with my little vice trade?"
"Oh I'd never begrudge one their vices. And I'll take a glass of the Macallan, if you so please. No, I'm not here because you distribute half the narcotics out of Asia from The Siren Serpent here; nor am I here for the stolen vehicles, weapons, artwork, medicine, or that fascinating collection of cherub dolls that I found aboard."
Vega finished pouring the glass of scotch and waltzed it back over to Bond while lighting a thin cigar. Her chest heaved up and down as she took deep starting puffs.
She stopped in front of him and delicately tipped the glass to his lips. He closed his eyes as he swallowed the scotch with a satisfied sigh. She exhaled a plume of thick cigar smoke and he breathed deep like a baker inspecting a fresh batch.
"Do you want one?"
"No, I quit."
She paused and exhaled another cloud or aromatic smoke. "Why?"
"I honestly have no idea." he said with a genuinely beleaguered sigh. "I'll finish that scotch, thank you."
She tipped the glass once more and he greedily swallowed the remains.
He breathed deep, and when he looked up again it was a different man than the one she had been speaking with. Vega had to stifle a shudder as she saw, for the first time truly, Bond's eyes. They were dead. Lifeless. It may well have been a corpse hanging from the crane hook before her. His charms and mannerisms were just sweet flowers to distract from the smell of a long rotted carcas.
"I'm here because of Shenzhen."
She exhaled long and fully. "Ah."
She turned and crossed back to the bar, this time with no performative strut. Bond watched as the sun began to make its slow crawl to the horizon line. He couldn't deny how lovely she was, framed by that burning splendor.
"'Cargo Container dropped outside of Shenzhen Port. 200 Innocent souls trapped within.'" quoted Bond. "200 girls. Not women, girls."
Vega poured herself a drink. Bourbon.
"Human trafficking is treated as a very serious matter, Mr. Bond." She downed her drink in one go. "It is better to murder 200 souls than to be caught trying to sell them." She suddenly raised her empty glass into the air and brought it down with a shattering crash upon the counter's edge. She strolled around the bar and walked towards Bond with the jagged glass still in her hand. "You think me a hypocrite, no? The stroooong, self-made woman using other unfortunates to prop up herself, no? Mi papa was a minister, Mr Bond. Before road agents left him dead in a ditch. You may not believe it, but I was raised devout."
"That tracks."
"He told me the story of the garden of Eden. Of how man came into being. How God created each of us. But why did he create us, Mr. Bond? The story never tells us the most important part! But I have my theory: In all of time and space and the infinite possibilities of the cosmos, there was one thing our lord and savior lacked: entertainment. Silvio!
The same greasy thug who captured Bond shuffled up to her. He didn't dare interrupt.
"Silvio, you have done me a great service, bringing me this man." she said as she delicately placed her hands, one of which held the shattered glass, upon his chest. It was the sort of gesture reserved for a lover. "There is no telling what damage this interloper could have caused had he reached the engine room."
He blushed and began to breathe deeply. "Oh course, ma'am! I-It is an honor to do right by you, mistress!"
"But what I don't understand… is how a clearly white, British man with no sea-bearing of any kind managed to get on my ship at all? Here? In the middle of the goddamned ocean?"
"Well I had to put out contracts for the repairs to the starboard hull… he slipped in with the other workers and…"
"So you didn't personally vet every man bringing their stinking musk onto my ship?!" she said in a parody of a loving tone.
"I… I spoke at length with the company manager and-"
Bond felt the man's sweat hit his cheek before he even heard the slap.
She had struck him. Hard. And two of the goons were behind Silvio, grabbing him by the arms, before he even had a chance to respond. Vega rubbed her temples with the hand holding the fractured glass.
"Where was I? Entertainment! That's why we're here! Not to think. Not to feel. Not to yearn. We just dance on our strings for the puppet master, eh?"
She flicked her wrist upwards and suddenly the crane was online again, pulling Bond up from the deck and twisting him in the wind several feet above the others.
"Everything we have has been given! Adam had to wait for God to give him food, to give him friends, to give him purpose!"
The crane lurched to a halt. Bond was past the rim of the deck and was openly hanging over a hundred foot drop to the waters below. Vega was turning her attention back to Silvio, who was struggling against his own captors. Vega placed one hand on his shoulder, and brought up the other with the broken glass.
"When Adam wanted a mate, did he do anything about it? No." She violently thrust the glistening glass into Silvio's generous belly, on the right-hand side, where Bond had a very clear view. The man screamed and struggled, but Vega kept speaking in the same calm tone as the glass and her hand disappeared into the bloody folds of his stomach. "He just sat. And hoped. And waited. For someone else to do it for him." Silvio's vocal cords started to tear from screaming as she ripped her hand from the wound, threw the broken glass upon the deck where it bounced and left a splattering trail, only to once more thrust her emptied hand into the bloody maw. "So God reached into Adam…. and took out a…"
CRACK*
Silvio slumped unconscious into the arms of his captors as his screaming finally died out. Vega slowly turned around to stare at Bond with a madwoman's eyes. She proudly held out an outstretched arm towards him. Clutched in her gore-soaked fingers was a lengthy fragment of Rib Cage bone.
"And then, even Eve only knew how to beg. For fruit. For knowledge. For satisfaction. I used to think it cruel. That God would make these things that only know how to want. But I see things from his perspective now. I can relate."
"To God? You don't say." Bond said with clear distaste.
"They just expect everything, don't they? They want it all! To only eat an apple and have all the mysteries of the universe opened to them." She gave a dramatic thumbs down, one that would have made the old emperors proud, and the crane slowly began to lower Bond beneath the top deck. "They want to waltz into a cargo crate, and walk out into a new world of possibilities! But that isn't the world God made, is it James? NOTHING is given! You have to take it all! Everything or nothing!"
Bond looked at his expensive loafers dangling above the yacht's second deck, as the crane swung him directly over it. It was under the top deck, stacked adjacent like escalating stairs. Bond immediately noticed that the entire surface of the level had been modified, with 8 foot sloped walls and a deep pit at its center. The entire second deck was like a deep bowl, sinking deeper as you approached the center. And there was something very large amassed in the pit of that makeshift arena.
"God should have scratched the whole affair then and there! Start over from the top!" Vega howled, cackling. "If you ask me, he should have just fed that bitch to the snake!"
Bond watched as he rapidly descended onto the second deck, and the massive head of a coiled anaconda perked up to watch his arrival.
Its tongue slipped from within its great mouth and danced in ecstatic anticipation. The 30 foot long body lay lumped and piled atop itself, and might have been mistaken for a pile of rolled-up carpet rugs until that heap stirred into excited movement. The crane came to a slow crawl and halted low enough that Bond had to hoist up his legs to stay out of reach. The tire-sized head that looked more appropriate for a crocodile was weaving its way upwards to him. The creature's eyes were far more human than Bond would have expected, and his stomach turned as he recognized the clear excitement and hunger in them. His arms were already depleted of strength, and as he began to feel the snake's slobbery maw trying to gain purchase on his right foot he began to kick desperately. Striking the snake on his nose felt like kicking a tombstone. The monster was in no way dissuaded by the frantic spasming, and continued to curiously nibble and poke at the dangling appendages.
Vega was waving from the deck above, still holding the bloody rib bone. "Lucifer there has some secrets to share with you, Mr. Bond!" she called down playfully. He could feel the tip of the thing's fang dragging across the fine leather of his shoe. She casually chucked the rib bone at his chest, where it bounced off and clattered on the floor. "But I'm afraid any forbidden knowledge will only be wasted on you now. Farewell." With that she gave him one final, devilishly-alluring smile and then casually tilted her hand towards the crane.
The latch on the hook released.
Bond dropped into the wriggling mass beneath him.
Vega watched with a predator's concentration. Bond lunged upwards only to immediately sink back down the sloped walls of the confinement. She chuckled as she watched him scramble for purchase on the tile flooring while Lucifer slowly looped himself around the struggling agent, encircling him completely. The snake brought its head in to go for a decisive kill and Bond brought up his bound hands to desperately try and block the impending thrust. The loop the beast had formed around Bond rapidly tightened, and he found himself completely bound and smothered under a flowing tide of green scaly flesh. His hands grasped pathetically at the sides of the snake's mouth, trying to jam his binds into its slowly yawning maw. The snake's head pulled back, like a fist preparing to strike, then plunged downward, biting into the man's arms and face as it used its weight to crush and envelop him entirely.
Just like that, James Bond vanished under the swirling mass of venomous appetite.
Valentina Vega gave the slightest tsk tsk as she turned away and strolled back over to the bar. Her remaining guards were dragging Silvio away to the infirmary. He wouldn't need a rib in order to do his job the following day. She would have her men do a full sweep of The Siren Serpent and ensure no foul play had occurred. But that was their concern. She had had enough of policemen and imbeciles for one day. The night was young, and there were so many delights that took priority.
Beneath her, Lucifer the Anaconda was sadly not sharing in his mistress' supreme satisfaction. He was experiencing a profound series of confusions. He had lunged forward to devour the fleshy thing that fell into his den but found his bared jaws inexplicably impeded. They were locked open, totally unable to burrow into his delicious meal. Then there was a strange sound, like a faint echoing *click* within the recesses of his mind. Suddenly darkness swam across his vision and the mighty snake began to slump to the side, rolling off the fleshy thing beneath him.
James Bond longed to take huge gasping breaths of air but kept himself restrained to short, controlled, quiet intakes. He aggravatedly shoved the massive coils of unconscious reptile off himself and noiselessly got to his feet in a crouching position.
He looked down at the monster's drooling mouth and his hands still lodged inside it; the creature's fangs coming down around his wrists and knuckles. It was a miracle they hadn't broken the skin. Every bit as much a miracle as Bond being able to snag up the discarded rib bone before it was lost to the endless folds of the snake's shifting body. He slowly uncurled his fingers from it, leaving it braced between the beast's upper and lower jaw. That bone had prevented Lucifer from making his killing stroke, and the micro dart-gun hidden away in Bond's Q-Branch modified timepiece finished the job. The darts would never have pierced the monster's thick skin. But a straight shot to the soft tissue within its open maw? Bond was enthusiastically relieved to see it did the trick.
"And I didn't even get an apple," Bond muttered under his breath as he gave one measured, silent, completely-necessary kick to the beast's slumbering side. He scrambled far enough along the sloped floor to ensure he was clear of the sight-line from the deck above. The sensation of sitting on a leather armrest occurred to him as he felt the coiled scaly seat beneath his backside.
He looked at his watch. Less than a minute. Behind him was a balcony leading back into the ship. He could rush in with the hopes of finding a weapon, but Bond didn't know how many more guards Vega had posted besides her personal detail.
The views those men must be privy to… Focus, dammit.
Above him the suspension crane still hovered, parked in place. It arched upwards, leading just past the top deck as it passed. Bond started to run numbers in his mind as he leapt up and grabbed hold of the still-released hook.
"Damn!" spat Vega as she dipped her toe back into the glowing swimming pool before her. The sun was nearly done with its weary climb down and the water had gone cold. She turned to issue a command but found her guard already engaged in a concerning conversation with his radio. Upon noticing her attention, the guard awkwardly turned to try and hide his panicked communique. She marched over to him and watched as the man's anxiety worsened with each step.
"What's. Going. On?" she hissed with a controlled fury.
"Our men have secured the engine room. No signs of tampering. But the back-up communications room that lies directly next to the engine room… they can't access it."
"What, they can't open a lock?!"
"The door is… It's welded shut, Ma'am." He was visibly sweating.
Vega grabbed him by the collar and reeled him in close. As she did, she could hear the confused shouts of the man on the other line of his radio: "*kkgghzzztt* You caught this guy breaking in? *Kshgkttzzz* You sure you didn't- *kksssggttz* -catch him breaking out? *Kkkzzzttssk*…"
Vega threw the man back against the hull and screamed at the other two guards present on deck. "Haul anchor and get us the hell out of here!" She furiously walked back to the pool's bar to grab her phone.
Bond listened to the panicked stomping and shouting directly above him and grinned. He activated the 'PACKAGE READY' signal on his timepiece and watched as the second-hand satisfyingly clicked into the twelve slot.
Boom.
Vega and one of her men were standing just upon the edge of the deck when the blast hit. She had to struggle to turn around quickly while maintaining balance. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the guard next to her had to wave his arms to keep from plummeting. A rush of heat hit her from the direction of the Siren Serpent. She stared at the massive vessel with a comically shocked expression as smaller explosions burst through the hull and sent debris, cargo, and screaming men plummeting to their new watery homes.
The initial blast that rocked Vega's personal yacht so vigorously had torn a gaping hole in the Serpent's starboard hull, opposite to the side of the ship Vega was facing. She couldn't see the actual wound, but the black hurricane of billowing smoke rising from beyond the cargo stacks told her everything she needed to know. All the minor explosions she saw now were aftermath blasts. Suddenly, with a wrenching metal roar like a leviathan from the depths, the entire ship began to slowly spin as it sank on its starboard side. She watched as the underside of the colossal vessel rose up to meet her. Over the cacophony of screeching metal and thunderous explosions one could almost hear the screams of her men being crushed under tons of sliding and crashing cargo containers.
Just when she thought her total dumbfoundment was at its zenith, she spotted the crane. The suspension crane, still angled downwards to the deck beneath them, was attached to the massive freighter now turning over into the waves. So as the ship spun over into its watery grave the crane was rising up into the air as a result. And as the end of the crane rose up past the edge of the deck… she saw a man perched on its very tip.
Bond, casually, as one would disembark an escalator, stepped off the skyrocketing crane onto the deck between Vega and her bodyguard.
It was the guard that took his gun. He clocked the man in the throat, snatched back his pistol, and indifferently threw him overboard. The man was still gasping for breath when he landed surprisingly on a pile of leathery pillows. He rolled over just in time to see Lucifer's emotive yellow eyes blink back into awareness.
Bond never heard his eventual screams. He opened fire three times on the bodyguard closest. Chest. Collarbone. Cheek. The man crashed backwards into the pool, bloody water already splashing up onto a screaming Vega. Bond turned and fired over her shoulder at the last guard, now standing behind the bar. He missed, and a stack of empty glasses exploded next to the man's face. He screamed in blinded rage for only a moment before Bond finished him with a follow-up round.
He turned back slightly to point the gun at Vega, who had been winding up to strike him. "It's embarrassing, really, missing a shot like that. In my defense, it was very good scotch." She screamed and shook her raised fist and spat at him. He only smiled in response.
"Come now, I'm not even being cross about the snake. And all I did was bring one very very tiny explosive onto your boat. I may have placed it next to any number of illegal whiz-poppers I found amongst your cargo. A few select locations to disable your potential escape without destroying the bulk of the cargo." Bond watched with satisfaction over his shoulder as the hulking ship came to a halt in its spiral and lay dormant and calm in the slowly soothing waters. "And what room was it again? That I broke into and planted my gift basket? Was that a communications room, by chance?"
A shrill alarm began to burst over the yacht's speakers. They had previously been playing Villa-Lobos' Floresta do Amazonas. Even Bond was disappointed at the cessation.
"So if I did manage to send out a call, well surely the British Navy wouldn't arrive in time to save me or stop you before making a hasty departure, no? Not unless you wasted time sunbathing yourself and sunbathing me from a bloody crane for the better part of an hour. Good thing you didn't do that." He paused and looked around, as if he was only just hearing the blaring alarm. "That wouldn't happen to be a naval perimeter alarm going off now, would it?" He mockingly rubbed his ear at the noise.
"Clever, cocky policeman. You still let a stinking mut like Silvio get the better of you though, eh?" she said with a sudden return to her confident, alluring manner.
"Well I will grant you there were a lot of men on that ship. I admit it, I managed to get on board and plant my bomb and verify there were no breathing passengers aside from your, erm… pirates?" He audibly groaned at this. "But afterwards I was having a damn time of it actually getting off the thing, and I thought about your file and how you never turn down a chance to personally humiliate and torture and I thought, 'what the hell?'"
Her smile smoothed out into an ice cold grimace. Her eyes seemed to visibly burn brighter. He gave her his most dazzling smile.
"'Why not get yourself caught, James? Offer the lady an apple. See if she bites.'"
The door to the yacht's inner cabin burst open and five more armed gunmen tried to make their way on to the deck. Bond turned to spray the doorway with bullets but suddenly collapsed from a vice-like pain in his right deltoid muscle. He fell behind a thick wooden pool chair and saw Vega's perfectly tanned legs darting past the wall of the cabin. She was taking the gangway to the ship's helm. He reached up and pulled the embedded corkscrew out of his shoulder. Where the hell was she even keeping it? However many men there were left inside the cabin were firing blind around the frame. Bullet's tore up the polished wooden floors in great chunks of splinters and splashes of powder. Bond saw the body in the pool shudder as it took on a few additional shots. He rolled sideways across the deck, arms outreached, spinning and shooting and rolling until he was behind the safety of the bar.
Three men were left inside the cabin. They hunkered on the bodies of the two Bond hit coming out the door and were using them and the door frame as cover. They blasted the bar, they blasted the stools. They blasted the counter and they blasted the illuminated awning above it. They blasted the fine assortment of liquor bottles into a raining snowfall of sparkling debris. The aroma of burnt casings and the stink of spilled liquor filled the air as much as the fine clouds of cocaine powder and smoke. And when they had all emptied their guns of every last bullet they ejected their clips and reloaded together in quick unison.
It was in that moment that the propane tank from the bar's covered grill came rolling through the open doorway between the gunmen.
Vega was nearing the helm at the top of the ship when the explosion knocked her forward. She grabbed hold of the guardrail and turned back to see the roof and front walls of the cabin blown open and bent outwards, stretching upwards to the sky like a drowning swimmer. El Capitan, a behemoth of a man covered in a patchwork of scars and tattoos and burnt leather that may once have been skin, was finishing hauling anchor when she stumbled into the steering wheel. He locked the massive wheel of spun chain with a latch and stood resolutely before her as she caught her breath.
"The Navy is here! I'll drive, mi amigo. You go kill that bastard!" El Capitan gave her a look both sincere and unfaltering and marched off into the smoking ruins of the stern with only a nod. Vega put one hand on the steering wheel, and another on the handle of the kukri blade she kept sheathed underneath it.
The sudden bolt of movement from the yacht taking off jostled Bond from his cocaine-dust covered haize. He was lying on the ground to the side of the obliterated bar, with his outstretched gun hand still pointed sluggishly in the direction of where he threw the propane tank. His crashing into the shattered remnants of the bar's back wall was the only thing that kept the blast from sending him right back into the loving embrace of old Lucifer. He knew he was too close to shoot the tank safely, but when had good ideas ever gotten him anywhere?
He slapped one arm down on the ground before him. Then another. Then for what seemed a great while he was just pushing into the ground. Finally, he was on his knees then his feet, and as he stood there a moment he had the conscience of mind to check his firearm. He ejected the magazine and saw only one bullet left in the chamber. Were there any guns left about that hadn't been blown-
The pool chair hit him square in the chest like a torpedo and shattered in every direction. Bond crashed again against the back wall of the bar. This last impact was enough to send a great deal of it crumbling down, and Bond nearly with it. If he sank to the floor again, he feared we wouldn't get back up, but thankfully some good chap was there to keep him on his feet. Two hands that made the snake seem gentle grabbed him by the lapel and hauled him upwards.
Bond shook the dust and debris from his head and stared through blinking eyes at a furious golem of a man. This sun-bleached gargoyle pulled him off his feet and actually growled at him, baring teeth and bulging eyes.
"Oh come now, I don't even know who you bloody are…" muttered Bond as he grabbed the monster's arms and tried to struggle free.
He did not.
El Capitan slammed the British agent three times into the crumbling bar. Broken rocks fell upon him and bits of broken glass embedded in his back with each crushing shove. Bond's flailing hands desperately searched for anything to grab onto, and he managed to snatch the top half of a shattered liquor bottle. He stabbed into the behemoth's shoulder and twisted the broken glass. The giant stopped slamming him and slowly turned to look at the bloody wound, as one would when noticing a mustard stain or a bit of dust that needs to be brushed off. He chuckled. Bond gulped.
The next thing he knew, he was airborne. The giant had thrown him clear across the pool to the other side where he crashed and slid across the wet boards. The momentum was too great and Bond slid right over the side. He flailed and barely managed to get enough of a grip to keep from falling entirely, but he was now once again hanging over the den of his exotic new friend. Bond foolishly afforded himself a glance downward to find Lucifer, now considerably wider than he had previously been, hissing in excitement at the prospect of a second surprise meal. But a far more terrifying development struck then: the clear sharp sound of a wooden *SNAP*. Bond felt the impact as he dropped several inches. The explosion had damn near broken the entire top deck from its moorings, and Bond's sudden landing on its back end was one more deadly step towards it breaking off entirely. Pool water slushed over him as the whole surface began to angle.
Bond pulled himself up enough to get his arms onto the surface and raise his head above it. El Capitan had pulled the broken bottle from his shoulder and began to strut around the pool towards his hanging target. He smiled maliciously and nodded from the bloody bottle to Bond's desperately clenched fingers, dug into the cracks between deck boards. Bond felt each of the man's thundering tree-like steps and the effect they were increasingly having on the bouncing, breaking, cracking top deck. He released one hand from its desperate clutch to raise it in warning.
"Don't come any closer!" he shouted with clear panic. The giant stopped for a moment, and mockingly held up his hands in a parody of surrender. He only paused for a second or two before resuming his booming march. Bond audibly groaned and yelled, "God dammit, I mean it, the whole thing is going to-"
The man stomped his way over rapidly and slammed his massive boot into the ground right next to Bond's hand. Perhaps he'd meant to scare Bond into releasing his grip. But it wasn't Bond's strength that failed at that moment, it was the deck's. There was a cacophony of cracking and snapping. Bond saw a domino line of boards on the deck's back half bend and snap off, flying into the air like a scattered pack of cards. Pipes burst and sprayed steam and hot water into the air like the exhaust from a locomotive. It wasn't one clean snap, but rather a continuing series of jostling drops as the massive floor came crashing down at an angle into the deck below it. Lucifer the snake was suddenly hit with the bodies of one British Secret Service Agent, one Brazilian Giant, three Somali Pirates, and roughly 15,000 gallons of newly ejected pool water. The creature's curved habitat was explosively transformed into a swirling pool of debris and ruin. Fires began to erupt with the steam and the whole ship seemed to sink backwards from the impact. Bond emerged from the bloody swirling mire and grasped hold of a burst pipe that jutted from the ruined wall of the ship. The collapsed deck had sunken into place, wedged at an angle and still leading to the top of the ship. His eyes darted along a series of other broken pipes, exposed floorboards and cracked plaster that could be used as handholds for an improvised ascent. He started to pull himself up when the head of El Capitan surfaced next to him.
He was coughing and gagging horribly, and his eyes were shut, blinded by the miasma of substances now mixed into the water. Bond pondered the notion of pity for all of half a second before he broke the man's nose with the strongest elbow slam he could manage. The behemoth staggered backwards into the sludge, reaching up and cupping his shattered nose with both hands. Bond knew he should just start climbing, but he'd wound up in the pit of an anaconda twice now in one evening and his temper was suitably flared up. He trudged into the muck as well, grabbing hold of the man's shirt and striking him repeatedly wherever he found an opening.
He struck him in the stomach.
"You."
He punched him in the throat.
"Don't."
He hit him directly between the eyes.
"Rock."
He delivered a dizzying haymaker to the jaw.
"The Boat!"
With this he delivered a final wall-breaking kick to the giant's midsection, sending him sinking into the deep center of the makeshift pool. The giant finally found his footing, and his eyes opened; blood-shot and bursting with rage. He stood up, looming over Bond, ready to crush the annoying little man into oblivion. But Bond wasn't afraid; in fact he was positively grinning with delight. It was an expression he shared with a certain Eunectes Murinus. Lucifer's massive mouth came down over El Capitan's eyes and bit in. He roared in agony and terror as the snake's already fattened body began to loop around and smother him. His screams turned into popping bubbles as the Anaconda dragged him into the murky sludge. Bond was already halfway up the goddamned climbing wall.
After the frantic climb and the desperate breaching of the top deck, Bond rolled over to afford a momentary respite lying on his back. If another attack had occurred at that moment, he would have responded with a curt "fine" and accepted oblivion. But the moment passed and he resolutely pulled himself up to his feet. Queen and Country were waiting.
He carefully shimmied around the edge of the devastated cabin, stepping over the plummeting devastation that had once been the floor, and spun onto the still intact gangway.
Above he could see Vega furiously mashing at the helm.
The devastation to the stern had slowed the ship considerably, and she howled with rage as she repeatedly slammed the boat's speed control lever to its top position. Bond had no weapon, and he certainly wasn't about to assume anything about Vega's actual threat, naked or otherwise. He reassured that his watch was still broadcasting and crept low up the stairs leading to the covered helm. Vega was entirely absorbed with her frustrations of momentum. Bond leapt up behind her, throwing his arms across her shoulders.
"I do believe it's time to cut this vacation sho-" he began, but Vega spun in his grip and pain exploded down his forearms. She whipped away from him, kicking him in the stomach and slamming into the wheel. Bond fell backwards onto a couch built against the perimeter of the bridge. He looked downwards to see a concerning amount of crimson spilling from the ribbons carved out of his arms. Vega had reached under the helm and now spun around to face him with a drawn kukri blade. Her heaving chest was glistening in Bond's blood. He watched as a reflective sparkle ran along the strange diamond-studded shawl-necklace he had taken note of earlier. Only now could Bond see that it was a silver web of hooks and barbs and sharpened edges. No man would hold her.
"Diamonds are a girl's best friend, Mr. Bond." she said with a cocky smile as she saw him connecting the dots. She brought the tip of the blade down to point at his throat. "Where is my Captain?"
"I'm not sure. Something was eating at him." grimaced Bond as he ignored his wounds and began to fiddle with his watch. She noticed the oddity immediately and brought the blade down to his wrist, forcing him to bring the watch down into her view. "Want to know the hour of your death, you stupid policeman?" She glanced down only a moment to see a blue flashing light emanating from the watch's digital face. The words 'RECEIPT IMMINENT' scrolled unendingly across the face in glowing blue font. "What the hell is this?"
"Something you should know about me, Ms. Vega…"
The world turned upside down.
Vega was rocked to the side of the cabin. Bond nearly fell off the couch. The entire massive Yacht had suddenly and impossibly lurched upward on its bowside. The bow was slowly and agonizingly rising into the air, screeching and moaning with metallic fury. Vega stumbled over to the starboard railing and grabbed firmly to the bar. She gazed over into the waters below and saw a rusted black obelisk rising from the depths, impaling her yacht like the whalers of old. Foam rolled away as she saw the body of the creature this upper fin belonged to. It was a submarine, rising from the depths and upturning her own impressive vessel. She spun around to see Bond, casually sitting at the other side of the bridge on the floor. He had torn off his jacket sleeves and was using them to bind his bloodied arms and hands with a nonchalance that seemed impossible in the insane upheaval happening all around them. He pulled a knot tight with his teeth and looked up to her.
"I am no policeman."
She charged at him with the kukri blade, spittle flying from her mouth as she screamed with berserker fury. She expected him to lunge into action, but with each impending step she made he only sat and stared, as if already resigned to the blade. She brought the weapon down in a sweeping arc, and at the last second Bond casually rolled to the side and the blade came clattering down on the spool of anchor chain that had been behind him. He sprang up and, with hands now firmly wrapped in layers of cloth, grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. He slammed her down into the spool. His hands moved around behind her back for a moment as she was stunned, then retracted as she wildly began to swing the kukri blade. He flung himself backwards, barely dodging the mad, sweeping slashes and collapsed against the control panel by the helm. Varga swung and swung, but no matter how hard she tried to push herself from the spot she stood upon she couldn't move. She was caught, hooked onto something. Her necklace! Bond took great heaving breaths and watched as she madly tried to slash at him, but he was beyond her reach. His hand slowly stretched out and took hold of one of the numerous levers on the panel.
"Bon Voyage." he said with no humor, and pulled the latch.
The Anchor dropped, and Valentina Vega had just enough time to scream. There was a sickening crack, an agonizing crunch, and a series of brutal thumps as she went over the side and into the watery grave that awaited her.
Bond sunk back onto the panel. He laid there for quite some time.
Below, the submarine had fully emerged from the depths, and the devastated remains of Vega's yacht settled alongside it. As the foam washed down from the massive black hull, the gigantic white-painted letters inscribing "QUARTERMASTER" could be seen stretched down the length of the vessel. The hatch at the top of the submarine's fin opened up, and a string of contemptible mumbling burst forth from the hatch far before the man who uttered them eventually emerged.
"40 years of dedicated service and now I'm playing glorified chauffeur to the only man who has ever made it a personal mission to never return a single piece of my pain-staked artistry." rambled Q as he slowly, oh so slowly, climbed up from the depths of his personal off-site research wing. Upon his finally exiting the craft's porthole a hive of soldiers and MI6 fieldmen burst out behind him. They swarmed down the exterior ladder while Q stood atop the fin wondering what all the blasted rush was about.
"I assure you, gentlemen, if there was anything left aboard that vessel worth reclaiming, that Diva I'm here to reclaim has already blown it to the moon!" Q croned from his crow's nest placement, as the salty air kicked his combed-over hair in all directions.
Bond smirked as he stepped off the pilot ladder that stretched down the ship's exterior. He exchanged several well-meaning pats and claps with the men who greeted him there as he called out to his much-beloved master-at-arms, "You needn't have come all this way, darling, if you'd just let me take the car out myself instead?"
"My equipment is designed to be used indefinitely, 007!" screeched the wiry old professor as he made the descent himself to the main hull of the craft. "The very notion of my budget covering equipment for one-time-only use is absurd and impractical to an offensive degree! Yet you've made it your own personal dogma! Now where is this Vega woman, need we take her into custody? Or have you treated your latest bounty with the same genteel approach as you do my equipment? "
Bond sauntered over to him, rubbing his forearms and desperately wanting another drink. "I expressed to Miss Vega our policies on international trade. I think it weighed on her. And yes yes, no personal craft for poor James, this round. Just a perfectly dysfunctional timepiece." he said as he unfastened and held up the still blue-glowing watch.
Q was genuinely taken back. He even back-stepped slightly and had to look around himself for a moment. "Is double-oh… seven… commander James Bond… actually returning a piece of equipment to me? This may just mean the end-times are upon us," he said with a grin that was satisfied and indignant at the same time.
"Regrettably…" Bond continued, "The acetylene torch seems to be burned out. Problem with water contact, I suppose. Had to dangle like a worm on a hook for the better part of an hour thanks to that."
"I am equal in my regret that you endured that as I am in having missed witnessing it, 007." said Q as he reached out for the watch.
Bond chucked the timepiece into the churning waves of the Atlantic. Q looked on the verge of total collapse.
"Sorry, Q. You know me. It got lost somewhere along the way."