Skyfall: The Lost Chapters

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Blowfeld
Ministry of Defence
Ministry of Defence
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Joined: Sun Feb 11, 2007 9:03 pm
Favorite Bond Movie: Goldfinger
For Your Eyes only
The Living Daylights
Location: the world

Skyfall: The Lost Chapters

Post by Blowfeld »

Chapter 000: There is no U in Humour

Bond was grateful Eve took the lead back at MI6 head quarters. A left, a right, some stairs, a few more twist and turns later Bond quickly realized he was complete disoriented. The more things change... he mused feeling as lost as ever. How many of days he wondered were spent wandering these very corridors searching for his office.

They arrived at M’s newly redecorated waiting room, so worried about moles was MI6 issued orders to “baffle and confuse” the enemy ; operation Furniture to Go.

Vanessa M’s sultry secretary looked as wonderful as Bond remembered. Bond tried to beam a smile at her before the sour reaction of his facial muscles rejected it. If Vanessa saw the smile he couldn’t tell, when she looked at him all she did wrinkle her nose in disgust while offering a sympathetic look for Eve.
‘Ma’am, Agent Eve and some homeless person are here.’ Vanessa announced over the intercom. Moments later a red light on the phone blinked to life indicating it was permitted to enter M’s offices. Bond jumped up to lead the way, as his hand reached for the door knob Eve called out to him.

‘Wrong door Bobo!’

Bond hesitated for a split second sure he had the right door, he was sure because he had discreetly carved is initials on the door frame as insurance against getting lost. He looked at Eve his face a question.

‘That’s the janitors’ closet.’ She explained.

He peeked the door open and sure enough it was. d**n M! he thought.

Once in M’s office he surveyed the audience he was commanded to attend. Two austere men sat prominently positioned, they had an air of authority Bond was not used to coming from anywhere but behinds M’s desk. No introductions were made making very clear he was not privileged enough to know these men's names.

The tall balding middle aged man in the bespoke blue suit spoke first. ‘This is Bond?’ disbelief thick in his voice. The shorter older man in the tweed jacket sitting near him spoke up.

‘Her Majesties government demands you bring in your best operative and you bring in a bloody day labourer !’ the short white hair man was exasperated. His eyes burned an unspoken accusation at M.

‘I assure you he is a far better operator than his dishevelled appearance would lead you to believe.’ M reassured her superiors adding ’Perhaps one of our very best’

‘Find a seat Bond’ she commanded.

‘I’d rather stand ma’am.’

Her checks flushed briefly with anger. Insolence already!

‘Suite yourself’ she snipped.

‘Thank you. I will.’ Bond put on his best smug expression. He thought it made him look sophisticated and adroit.

M had always hated that smug look on his arrogant mug, this facial expression always reminded her of the self satisfied look of an auto mechanic busting a customer mercilessly over a repair bill. She had half a mind to walk over and slap the look off his craggy face.

‘After you..ahem.... left’ M said putting it delicately ‘a temp agency was contacted to find your replacement.’

Bond had a huge grin, he knew he couldn’t be replaced. They need him back! Time to be gracious. Time for a little bit of humour his therapist recommended he work on.

He waved a hand dismissively, ‘Of course I knew Jerry Sadowitz could never fill my shoes.’

M’s face flared with anger. Humm, he thought must try another maybe she doesn’t know who Sadowitz is.

‘It’d take more the Steven Seagal and Jason Statham to do my job.’

My was out of her seat in a flash, fast as her tiny little angry feet would carry her. On her tippy toes she slapped Bond across his face as hard as she could manage. She slapped him so hard her arthritic hand throbbed in pain. Angela Lansbury be damned.

‘Bond I don’t care how cold a unfeeling Bas***d you are’ M’s shrill voice cut through all of Bond’s armour. ‘You will not make fun of the death of agents who died doing their duty! Not from the likes of you!’

‘Quitter!’ the old man in tweed hissed venomously.

While M took a moment to calm down the gentleman in the bespoke suit explained the situation to Bond.

‘Double oh’ Agents Sadowitz, Seagal, Stallone, Diesel, Damon, Statham, and Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson are to be buried on the marrow. They will be greatly missed. Their loss is England’s loss.’

Humbled Bond tires one last time to lighten the mood.

‘I’m relived we never relied on Michael Jackson’s services.’

M’s fury was unbound. Bond that she was going to “nut” him. Indeed she almost did, she stopped short only because it was exactly the sort of thing Bond would do. Bond’s hands went down intuitively to protect himself, instead M slapped him on the face twice more. Her hand throbbed in pain, secretly she was afraid it might be broken. Bond tenderly rubbed the sore spot on his face, he looked down at her confused, he didn’t know what he had said.

‘He was the King of Pop you Bas***d!’ her eyes held no humour.

‘Enough.’ Declared the bespoke man. M acquiesced returning to her desk.

‘Bond we are up against a new threat.’

‘Quantum.’ He surmised.

The room went deathly quiet, Bond thought it was in awe of his dazzling display of deduction.

‘No. I said a NEW threat. We decided it was best policy to ignore the Quantum menace.’

‘oh.’

’This new threat is something we’d not encountered before.’

‘A bunch of damned vandals!’ the man in tweed interjected.

Bonds heart got icy cold. Had they discover it was he who tagged level seven of the MI6 parking garage “007 Forever “. His mind raced, who were these men with M? Were they from the city? Were they here to fine him? He’d not pay he decided, he steeled himself for a fight. The bas***ds could take him to court for all he cared. But M continued the conversation in a direction his keen mind could not have foreseen.

‘Yes. They tagged agents to send a message home. This simply isn’t done. Show him Eve.’

Eve hovering in the back of the room with Bill Tanner held up her hand and took off bandage, there was only a faint outlines of the mark were left behind. Bond squinted hard but couldn’t notice anything extraordinary.

‘Of course we had our surgeons do up the works repairing the damage, no use having a secret agent with an identifiable trait.’

‘Of course.’ Bond agreed.

The white hair man in tweed was sniffing the air audibly. ‘I’m sorry. Does anybody else smell s**t?’

Bond blushed, he knew it was him, but nobody could tell he blushed because of his ten pound a can Tesco fake tan. Bond’s nose had become desensitize to the smells of the chicken farm had hadn’t had time shower before the meeting.

‘Good god it’s you isn’t!’ The old man wagged an accusatory finger at Bond. ‘Chicken s**t if I’m not mistaken!’

Eve was about to step up to defend Bond, after all it was at her insistence they rushed to the meeting. The bespoke man used a subtle gesture to give M a command. M instantly obeyed interrupting the tweed mans indignant tirade.

‘Long story short Bond we need you to go to Shanghai. Flight leaves in one hour. That will be all. Goodbye.’
And with that the meeting was over and Bond once more had gainful employment in Her Majesties Secret Service.

Exiting the room Bill Tanner and Eve exchanged glances, it could have been worse they agreed.
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"Those were the days when we still associated Bond with suave, old school actors such as Sean Connery and Roger Moore,"
"Daniel didn't have a hint of suave about him," - Patsy Palmer
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