"MMMMM... Oh god.."

James Bond did not believe her.


James Bond looked at the woman beneath him, another one in a very long series of trophies he could no longer earn as he did once before. He looked at her with a flicker of hate, the halo of blonde hair surrounding a face of excellent creamy complexion, ivory teeth were biting a bottom red lip and her eyes would have been bright green if they were not shut at the moment, she was beautiful, and young; just a third of his age.

He listened to her moan in pleasure, and knew she was faking it for the most part, something that annoyed the hell out of him, but he favored it over icy silence. She had been with the firm for six months now, long enough to know the protocol as Josephine called it; all the attractive women that came to work for them had to pass through his bed, they had to feign interest in him, pretend to be attracted to the bald, gray seventy-five year old, and then they had to throw themselves at them, they had to spend a few weeks in his arms before he would lose interest, then they would be transferred to the station of their choice.

"Oh... James!"

Their bodies trembled with release.

Bond stood in the bathroom washing his face as the young woman slept in his bed, or pretended to. Bond didn't care.

In a way, he was dispassionate about it as much as they were, he hated the sham of it all, but couldn't stop; he couldn't relinquish the vestiges of what he once was.

Bond dried his face with a towel and looked at the mirror, at the parchment that summed up his lifetime of excessive adrenaline, smoking, drinking and philandering, at the reflection of his bald head, his wrinkled face and the gray beard that framed it.

He was once Commander James Bond, Agent Double-O Seven of SIS; the most feared and competent spy to ever operate during the cold war, who vanquished the enemies of her majesty, survived a hundred deaths and bedded the most exotic of women. He earned the highest titles, wealth and a reputation all men envy.

Those were the days.

Bond wrapped the robe around himself and stepped out of the bathroom. He couldn't just retire and move to Cornwall like everyone else, he couldn't bear it, he would much rather live the false echo of his glorious past than to become one of the mundane masses.

James Bond simply couldn't bare it.

The Following Day ...

Bond made his way through the corridors of the Asgard Building, heading to his office. He impatiently went through with the data verification procedures, wondering if it was necessary for the director of the Agency to undergo them, despite him being the one constantly mandating upgrades to the Agency's Security System. Today was different, for there had been Intelligence from the Agency's station in New York reporting that one of the Agency's long time foes, one that has eluded them for decade, has resurfaced on the United States' East Cost.

Bond waltzed into his oak-paneled, mahogany-furnished office, took off his coat and hung it on a rack before assuming his position on his leather armchair. He pressed a button on a panel fixed into his desk, and an LCD screen blinked on, displaying a man of Bond's age.

"Good morning, Director." said the man with a Texan accent.
"Good morning, Felix." said Bond, "So, he's finally resurfaced again. How much has it been?"

"Twelve years. As you know, there have been reports of his involvement in several attacks against our own, but none were confirmed. His risking appearance on U.S. soil, as well as him contacting the services of two of the people on our watch list indicates he is planning something major. We've apprehended his known associates, but they all deny recent contact with him."

"Who are these two he's recruited?"

Felix Leiter was replaced by images of a clean shaven man of his fifties with black hair and dark skin, a Caucasian thirty-something brunette woman, and a Caucasian man of thirty with longer than average hair and a light beard. Beneath each were their names and some past employers.

"She's an assassin and demolitionist, mostly working for organized crime but was hired by the government on occasion. He is a subteresterial, formerly associated with the D.R.I., currently working as a drug and arms smuggler."

Leiter paused before going on, "We've received information that all three were sighted in a diner in New Jersey, I've already ordered a strike force to approach the facility and take them in."

"How long had he been in the country?" asked Bond after a beat.
"Thirty-six hours." said Leiter with some discomfort.
"Do you mind telling how this man, whom we had made a terrorist in the eyes of the entire world managed to slip in undetected, spend a day and a half in the country, recruited two of the people were supposed to be watching at all times, one of which was in a maximum security prison, and may already have vanished again?"

"You know the name yourself, Jim." said Leiter, "He's one resourceful son of a bitch. We'll get him, though, don't worry."

"I won't, I know you'll do all you can. Good day, Felix."
"Good day, Jim."

Meanwhile, in New Jersey

The three sat at a booth in a diner, the younger man and woman at one side while their recruiter sat on the opposite side.

"What's the score, chief?" asked woman then took a sip of stale coffee, "I mean you broke me out of jail and that's nice and all, but you didn't do it out of the goodness of your heart, did you?"

The dark skinned man smiled faintly as he read through the newspaper in his hands, "You can ask your new Partner what I told him."

"Hey!" said the young man as he raised the palms of his hands slightly, "I don't know squat. I told you I was just along for the ride. He didn't tell nothin'."
"Precisely," said the older man, "All will be explained in good time."

"So why don't I shoot you right here?" asked the woman.

The older man shot her a sharp stare that then softened as he said, "Drink your coffee."

"Errr... Are you sure that's wise?" asked the young man, "I mean we just sprung a convicted murderer out of jail, there ought to be cops lookin' for us, do we need to be here right now instead of getting the hell outta dodge? Besides, you said there were people after you." "Who would those be?" asked the woman.

"As I promised, all will be explained"
"Wait just a minute," interjected the young man, "You don't want to tell us your master plan before we've proved we mean business and that's ace. But if you got someone bad after you, well, I don't want to be caught in the fire when the shit hits the fan."

The older man seemed to ignore them for a few moments, till be folded the paper neatly and put it down, and said, "Do you know that you two were being watched?"


"I know a great deal about you two, I know you've both, despite being mostly freelance, have worked for the US government on occasion, which is how you came into the attention of the people who are after me."

"Again, who would that be?"
"The most powerful Intelligence Agency in the world." said the older man as he set down the paper.

"The C.I.A"
"No. Much more powerful, much more covert, and willing to do much more horrible atrocities to do whatever it takes for their designs to come to life. I know that very well, better than most, because I used to be one of them."

An abrupt ending, I know, it's the best I could come up with. Please Review Review.

Next Chapter: We take a step back and witness the prison break.