CHAPTER 1: THE FIRST CHAPTER
Bond broke into that weird shortarse run of his, then turned and shot a cameraman. At least the gunbarrel is at the beginning this time, he thought, even if it's all downhill from here.
Iris out on Mexico City during the annual Dia de Los Muertos
festival. Bond was in the lift of his favourite hotel. Hotel, named with the same bold minimalism as this film. He was dressed as Baron Samedi. With him was a woman named Estrella.
"Faster, I can't wait!" she panted in the hotel corridor, as he fumbled with the keys to his room. Finally, he got the door open. As she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room, he pulled his wrist away and said "Sorry, I have to go".
"Already? You promised me more screen time than this on the casting couch".
"That's showbusiness", he smirked, as he grabbed a briefcase, pulled off the Baron Samedi mask, and jumped out of the open window.
"Oh well", she sighed. "At least I won't have to do that
again. He looked so much better with the mask on."
Bond jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Eventually, he found a spot opposite a block of apartments, and pulled out his sniper's rifle and a laser microphone. His target's name was Gallo, and with the aid of his scope and the microphone, he could see and hear that he was talking to a man he recognised as notorious gangster Marco Sciarra. He noticed that Sciarra made a big show of waving a ring in Gallo's face. A ring with a silver hazelnut on it. Gallo was obviously intimidated by this, and Bond wondered why.
"So everything is arranged", said Gallo.
"Yes", replied Sciarra. "We kill the ambassador with the exploding Ferrero Rocher, fly out of here, and visit the Pale King".
"That's what you think", thought Bond, as he aimed the sight of the rifle between Gallo's eyes. Unfortunately, Sciarra spied the laser spot and pushed Gallo out of the way. The bullet whizzed past the pair of them and slammed into the box of Ferrero Rocher behind them, causing an almighty explosion.
"Mr Grimsdale!", Bond yelled, as the front of the apartment block came crashing towards him. Fortunately, he passed through an open window, silent movie style, and was left unharmed.
He wasn't the only one. Somehow, Sciarra had also survived, and was making his way through the Day of the Dead procession below, bloodied but alive. Bond had almost caught up with him when a helicopter descended. Sciarra got in. As it took off, Bond jumped onto one of the landing skids.
He opened the door and grabbed Sciarra. "Who is the Pale King?", he yelled. The pilot rolled the helicopter violently from side to side, trying to shake Bond out. Instead, it was Sciarra who fell out of the door. He grabbed Bond's hand. "Nice ring", said Bond, and pulled the hazelnut ring off his finger. The helicopter was almost upside-down now, and the motion sent Sciarra out of the door and into the helicopter's rotor blades.
"Looks like I made mincemeat out of him", said Bond, woodenly, his words landing with the same almighty thud as his single line of dialogue in the Heineken® ad.
"Don't", sighed the pilot. "Just...don't. Roger could pull off lines like that. You can't".
Bond shut up, and stared at the ring. He looked closer, closer, until....