My New Fan Fiction!
Sweepy the Cat
Halifax, West Yorkshire, EnglaPosts: 986MI6 Agent
Admittedly I have stolen a few scenes and characters from frostbitten but I have written a rough draft of a script for Bond 22. It runs 13 A4 pages. It is set while following CR, in an alternateworld with the original M, Moneypenny and Q with a few other older style things. I've also changed Irma's name to Jenny as a tribute to Jenny Flex {[]. So here goes.
Bond 22
By Will Brook
( Gunbarrel sequence. Camera zooms in, from a wide-angle shot, to a beautiful, turn-of-the-century house backing up to a tranquil lake. Partially hidden by the shadow cast by the eaves of the roof, a dark figure moves cautiously along the yard with Mr White lying on the floor bleeding. Bond points the gun in his face.)
Bond: Who do you work for!
Mr White: I'll never tell you
(Bond fires into Mr Whites over knee where he groans and Bond repeats himself louder)
Mr White: Ok, ok SP...
(Mr White is shot in the back by a sniper making a getaway. Bond clambers into a nearby BMW and put's it straight into fifth gear as the engine revs. The car speeds of after the other which as seemingly dissapeared into the small Italien village. A young man is seen running while trying to fix his gun together. The man drops the gun and runs. He ends up at a small dock where the man jumps into a speedboat. Bond is left panting when two police officers push him down and arrest him. Camera fades out into titles sequence. Bond enters M's office)
M: Good morning 007.
Bond: Morning Sir
M: Do you know anything about Archangel
Bond: Arch.. who?
M: Well.. he's out to kill you!
Bond: Why me?
M: Honestly Bond...
(Bond is given a folder with 'For Your Eyes Only' written on it.)
M: Take it, you'll need it
(Bond walks out of M's office and into Moneypenny's. Moneypenny isn't there so bond walks back.)
Bond: Where's Moneypenny?
M: Off!
(Bond goes down in the lift and get's out while Q awaits him.)
Bond: Morning Q
Q: Did you return the DBS from when you went to Montenegro
Bond: Oh,.. erm, sorry
(Bond looks at Q with a stupid looking face.)
Q: Oh grow up 007.. Anyway we've got you a new car, with the usual optional extras installed.
Bond: (Sarcastically) Ooh
(Bond follows Q into another room where he looks at his new Aston Martin Vanquish.)
Bond: Do you have a thing about Aston Martins Q ?
Q: Why, what do you want, a bentley?
(Q looks at bond sarcastically, Bond smiles)
Bond: You can count on me
Q: Honestly, anyway, here is your newly equipped watch. It features a small dart filled with syonide.
Bond: That should cokme in handy
(Q walks off and camera fades. Bond drives the Aston Martin Vanquish at illegal speeds, heading toward the southern suburbs of London. Bond pulls off the freeway, onto a small, twisty road going through a nicely wooded area. After a couple of miles, he turns into a little lane, drives a hundred yards, and parks right behind a small, white van. Bond walks up to the van. There are 2 men inside. The driver is pointing a camera with a zoom lens on a quaint Victorian house sitting at the end of a private driveway, about a hundred yards away.)
Driver: No, no, no, baby! Don't pull the blinds down! Oh **** ! She pulled them down.
His Companion: Why don't you give it up, Charles, you lecher?
(Bond clears his throat. The driver is startled, and drops the camera. He looks up, sees Bond, and his face turns red.)
Driver: I'm sorry, Commander! We didn't know you were coming.
Bond: Obviously. Tough assignment you've got here, gentlemen.
(Both men in the car laugh in relief when they detect the humor in Bond's voice.)
Driver: Yes sir! But we are doing our best, for Queen and Country, naturally.
Bond: Naturally. Now, would you mind showing me your setup?
(The man in the passenger's seat jumps out, walks behind the van, and opens the doors. He and Bond climb inside. The van is full of electronic equipment. The field agent points to a dashboard full of switches, which also has a built-in speaker, and a pair of headphones.)
His Companion: We have got her place all bugged. Every room.
Bond: Turn on the speaker.
(The agent flips a switch. From the speaker comes the sound of running water. By now, the driver has also come inside the van.)
Driver: (Whispers) She is drawing a bath. Usually lasts about 20 minutes. After that, she would turn on some classical music, normally Mozart, to listen to while having dinner.
(Bond looks at the man with amusement.)
Bond: You two are having too much fun out here. Perhaps I should talk to M about...
(Suddenly, a deep male voice, bearing a trace of Slavic accent, comes over the speaker)
Archangel: Hello, darling!
Bond: That's him, Archangel. How did he get inside?
Driver: I don't know. Nobody has passed by this way in the last half hour. We also have another man stationed at the back of the house, and we haven't heard anything from him.
Bond: (sharply) Call him, now!
Driver: (Speaking into a walkie-talkie) Colin, are you there? This is Charles. Report, please!
(There is no answer.)
Bond: He's already dead.
Archangel: Come with me, Jenny. I can't stay in England, and I can't stand being away from you. I'll give you all the money you want...
Jenny: It's not a question of money. My life is here. I can't just pack up and leave, just like that.
Archangel: I don't want to argue with you now. Get your things. Only what's absolutely necessary.
Jenny: (defiantly) No.
(There is a sound of a hard slap, and Jenny cries out.)
Bond: (pulling his gun out of its holster) Call for back-up. I'm going in.
Driver: No, Commander, wait!
(But Bond is already out of the van, running quickly toward the house. As he approaches the main entrance, he clicks off the safety on the Walther P99, and shifts to a two-handed grip. Then, he hears footsteps and voices at the back of the house. Crouching down, moving along the fence, he circles around to the back, in time to see Archangel, in a black leather outfit, pulling on the arm of Jenny, who is dressed in a white fur coat. There are also two stocky bodyguards with them. Bond takes up the shooting stance)
Bond: (Shouts) Hold it right there!
(Archangel stops, but doesn't turn around. He gives a short hand signal to the bodyguards. The two of them immediately jump in opposite directions, while pulling out their Uzis. Meanwhile, Archangel pushes Jenny the ground, and takes off running. Bond has no choice: he has to take care of the 2 thugs first. He tracks the man on the left with his P99, and lets off one shot. The man topples backward, blood spewing from the hole opened up in his throat. At the same time, the thug on the right has started firing. Bond feels the heat of his bullets, as they pass by, just centimeters away from 007's head. Bond goes down to one knee, and shoots again. The thug drops the Uzi, and clutches his shoulder. Incredibly, instead of surrendering or running away, the man roars like a wounded bear, and comes charging toward Bond. Bond aims right at the man's head.)
Bond: Stop!
(The thug keeps coming. Bond squeezes the trigger, and winces. By then, the 2 MI6 agents have run up to Bond.)
MI6 Agent #1: See if shes alright, I'm going after Archangel.
(He runs in the direction Archangel has taken off in. After 50 yards, Bond sees his enemy, Archangel, jumping on one of three black Kawasaki ZX-6R's, hidden in a dense thicket. As Bond runs toward him, Archangel speeds off, the bike's engine roaring. Bond jumps on one of the remaining Ninjas, guns the engine, and takes off after his target. Jenny walks into a private nightclub, full of well-heeled, hip, young professionals working out the stress of their daily lives by gyrating with wild abandon to the pounding techno music that a DJ is spinning. Bond then walks in. Now Jenny walks over to a table in the corner, where 3 men are sitting. They are all dressed in Armani suits, but two of them look like well-paid muscle, and their well-cut suits don't quite conceal the bulk of their firearms, at least to a pair of trained eyes like Bond's. The third man, a thin man in his early 30's, has the demeanor of someone who is used to getting what he wants, and is, in Bond's assessment, probably someone important in London's world of organized crime. As Jenny approaches the table, he barks out something to his bodyguards, who immediately stand up and get out of the way to make room for her. The thin man also stands up, and makes a show out of kissing Irina's hand, and pulling out a chair for her. As she sits down, and starts talking with the man, Bond can see that he is obviously smitten already. Bond smiles, while thinking: "You poor tough guy! She has already got you all wrapped around her little finger." Bond takes up a dark, inconspicuous spot along the bar.)
Bond: A dry Voka Martini, shaken not stirred.
(He then lights up one of his custom-made cigarettes. As he is enjoying his first puff, the door of the nightclub opens, and a woman walks in. Ever since Jenny walked into the room, she has made all the other women seemingly disappear, and Bond could see many men furtively glancing at her even though it was clear that she had company. However, now there is a true competitor for all the male attention, because the newcomer is a stunning woman. Whereas the first feeling that Jenny's beauty normally evokes in a man is one of admiration the first feeling that this woman's beauty evokes is one of a more carnal nature. Her voluptuous body fills out her Dior dress in a most tantalizing way, and when she walks, she moves as sensually as a belly dancer. Hers and Irina's are two kinds of beauty, as different as fire and ice. To Bond's surprise, she walks toward him, then slides onto the empty stool next to him. She orders a bourbon, then turns toward him.)
Ashlyn: Excuse me, do you have a cigarette?
Bond: Sure.
(He opens his gunmetal cigarette case, and offers her one of his special cigarettes, each with 3 gold bands across the middle).
Ashlyn: Very interesting-looking cigarettes, what brand are they?
Bond: I have them custom-made.
Woman: (With a short laugh), Ah, a man with exacting tastes. I like that, by the way my name is Ashlyn Harms.
(extending her hand).
Bond: My name is Bond, James Bond.
(He shakes her hand. Her grip is surprisingly firm for a woman).
Ashlyn: Are you here with someone, Mr. Bond?
Bond: Call me James. And no, I'm here alone. Just unwinding after a hard day's work.
Ashlyn: And what kind of work do you do, James?
Bond: I'm a marketing consultant for a software firm.
Ashlyn: (Teasingly) You look too dangerous to be a consultant. (Smiling) But then, I like dangerous-looking men.
Bond: I'm glad you approve. May I also say that you look very good yourself. That dress is a knock-out.
Ashlyn: Thank you, James.
(At that point, the thin man gets up, and guides Jenny to the dance floor. As multi-colored strobe lights flash across them, Irina dances gracefully, while her companion tries valiantly to keep up, but only succeeds in looking like a cross between a drunk and someone with epileptic seizures. Ashlyn catches Bond's glance at the couple.)
Ashlyn: She moves very well, don't you think? Probably due to some ballet training...
Bond: I suppose so. I'm not so sure about her friend's training, though. Maybe a modern style?
Ashlyn: (Laughing) A salesman with a sense of humor. I'm impressed, listen, I'm staying at this place.
(She pulls out a hotel's card and a pen, and writes a number on the back of the card. She gives it to Bond, and notices his raised eyebrows).
Ashlyn: Too forward of me?
Bond: I like aggressivenes in a woman.
Ashlyn: Good, I was betting you would, hopefully I will see you later, James.
Bond: You presume a great deal don't you, Ashlyn?
Ashlyn: (Laughs)
(Ashlyn then walks away, he smiles and walks behind her but stops and observes Jenny once more. She is still out on the dance floor, toying with her overmatched partner. His two bodyguards hover nearby, as if someone would jump in, and kill their boss if they don't stay vigilant. Jenny is probably safe right now, being guarded as closely as a Presidential candidate. Bond decides to take Ashlyn up on her invitation. He takes out her card and looks at it: she is staying in the Ritz Hotel, room 225. Bond takes one last sip of his vodka martini, then gets up and walks out the door... Sunlight filters in through the heavy bars on the window, hitting 007's closed eyes. Gradually, they blink open, as Bond wakes from his slumber. Suddenly, the door opens again. There he is, standing in the doorway, Archangel, framed by the door, he looks even taller than his 6'2'' height. In his right hand is a small, black leather traveling bag. His piercing eyes travel up and down Bond's body, noting with amusement Bond's weary, disheveled, unshaven state. Smiling, he walks inside the room, and closes the door.)
Archangel: Looks like you had a rough night. I told Ashlyn to take it easy on you, but she does get carried away sometimes.
Bond: On the contrary, she was the perfect ... hostess.
Archangel: Well, the fun part of your stay is over. From now on, you're mine.
Bond: (Defiantly) Whatever you have planned, just do it, and get it over with.
Archangel: Oh, I bet you'd want me to kill you now. But that would be too easy on you. No, I intend to have some fun with you first, just like Ashlyn did. But don't worry, it's a different kind of fun I'm talking about.
(He walks over to the corner of the room, and puts his bag down on a low-slung table. He pulls out a silver laptop computer, puts it on the table, and punches some keys. Then, he turns it, so that Bond can see the screen.)
Archangel: Don't you at least want to know why I picked you as the target?
Bond: I always assumed it was because you like my dashing good looks.
Archangel: (Laughing) You're a cool customer, Bond, I'll give you that much. But seriously, even though the challenge of going up against the famous 007 was tempting, it alone wouldn't be enough to make me come to England, reveal myself to MI6 to lure that fool of an agent in, then use him as bait to catch you. No, I'm a mercenary, Bond, and I don't do anything unless there's a profit in it for me. Let me tell you a little story.
(He pulls the only other chair in the room up next to the table, and sits down.)
Archangel: You see, a long time ago, your agency did something quite nasty to a particular individual, rendering him totally paralyzed. Now, he can't take a **** without being hooked up. He can't even talk without using a computer. Even in such a condition, he has survived for all these years, and all the while he has been plotting his revenge against you. And he has chosen me to be his avenging angel, which seems kind of appropriate, considering my name.
(At this point, Archangel punches some keys on the laptop, and the screen lights up, showing the DVD picture of an austere, sterile room that looks like a hospital room. A huge bed is the centerpiece, and next to it is a small computer with a glowing LCD screen. A man is lying in the bed, a shrunken, all-skin-and-bones figure, with so many wires and tubes connected to him that he looks like a pathetic, bed-ridden porcupine. His skin is almost as pale as the sheet under him, due to extreme lack of exposure to sunlight. Now, the man's little finger on his right hand moves on a little pad next to the computer, and from the computer's speakers comes a metallic, robot-like male voice that is eerily unnerving due to its obvious artificiality.)
Blofeld: Good morning. I bet you don't recognize me. Mr. Bond you probably know what happened 25 years ago when the old 007 dropped me down that old industrial chimney, almost every bone on my body was broken. My spinal cord suffered irrepairable damages. I even suffered a skull fracture, and the part of my brain that controls the vocal cords was crushed. The only part on my body that I can still move is my right little finger, which is why I can still talk to you through this rather ingenious voice generator here.
(Blofeld stops talking. It seems it has taken him a lot of effort to say what he has said, and he now has to rest a little, to gather up enough energy to continue. After a couple of minutes, the emotionless, computer-generated voice starts up again.)
Blofeld: Fortunately, some of my lieutenants are very loyal. They fixed me up, as much as they can anyway, and stayed with me, took care of me through all these years. Most of SPECTRE, though, withered away. Now, just like me, the organization is just a ghost of its former self. MI6 also helped speed up its decline by killing the only person, besides myself, strong enough to lead it, my daughter, my beautiful Nena. Do you know how terrible it is for a father to hear about his daughter's death, at the hands of his most hated enemy? And why did mi6 have to kill her in such a brutal, merciless way, feeding her to that giant snake, in the Louisiana marshlands? (Another long pause). You have caused me a great deal of pain, physically and emotionally. You have destroyed what I held most dear in life, my daughter, and my organization. But now, if you are watching this, it means that the time for my revenge has come. You see, I have never stopped planning for revenge. I know that I can no longer exact my revenge on you personally, so I have waited patiently, until I found the perfect candidate to do it for me. He must be ruthless, daring, intelligent, and more skilled than you in all the ways of violence. It took me years, but I have found that man, Archangel. (Pause). I don't have much time left, Mr. Bond. By the time you watch this, I'm probably dead. But I'll die with the reassuring knowledge that you will soon join me, because once Archangel accepts a contract, he never fails. So, let me now bid you adieu, Mr. Bond. Until we meet again. In hell.
(The screen goes blank.)
Bond: Why me?
(Archangel folds up the laptop, and turns to Bond.)
Archangel: Oh it's not just you 007, almost everyone solely linked with destroying SPECTRE is on the list. The poor, old son of a bitch! He died a couple of months after making that video. You know, back when he contacted me, his organization was almost extinct. But he still had a lot of money, about 500 million to be exact, and a few good contacts. He offered to give it all to me, if I accept the contract on you, Bond. I was doing OK for myself back then, but 500 million in cash, and a chance to take over and revive an organization like SPECTRE, are just too good to pass up. So I took the job, and since that point, you were as good as dead. I spent a lot of time studying you, following your exploits, trying to pinpoint your strengths and weaknesses, and putting together my plan to take you down. Except for the time when you surprised me back at Jenny's house, everything else has worked out exactly like I had planned. So, here we are. Almost time to make your last request.
Bond: My last request is for you to kindly go to hell.
Archangel: Oh I will, Bond, but long after you. Ah, but before I kill you, there's some recreation to be had.
(He pulls out something that looks like a money belt, tightly wrapped up in a bundle, from the traveling bag. Untying the cord that holds the belt together, he lays the belt flat on the table. In its many compartments, instead of wads of money, there are thin, shiny metal spikes that look like those used to skewer meats in a rotisserie, except these are much thinner and sharper. Archangel opens the door, and calls a couple of thugs in. He orders them to bring the table over and place it in front of Bond's chair, then to untie Bond's hands and place them flat on the table. Bond notices that there are metal shackles fixed to the table top, and the thugs now force his wrists into these shackles, and lock them up. Archangel then orders them to remove Bond's shoes and socks as well. After that, the thugs step back, and Archangel pulls up the other chair, and sits across the table from Bond.)
Archangel: (Talking with great enthusiasm) This is something I picked up when I was with the KGB. You see, the most sensitive parts on the human body are the flesh areas under the fingernails and toe nails. These spikes here are designed to go in under the nails, so that I can explore these areas. I will start with your fingers first, then move on to your toes. I will try to prevent you from passing out for as long as I can, but a lot also depends on your threshold of pain tolerance. So, what do you think?
Bond: (Trying his best to put on a brave front) I think you KGB boys need to get out more often.
Archangel: (Giving a short laugh) All right then, let's start.
(Bond tries to make fists out of his hands, but Archangel patiently pries open the fingers of Bond's right hand. Then, he picks up one of the spikes, and with the care of a surgeon, starts slipping it in under the nail of Bond's right index finger. He tells himself never to scream, regardless of what Archangel is doing to his body. But, as Archangel methodically pulls the spikes out from the belt and uses them on him, and as droplets of his blood start to drip onto the tabletop, and then the floor, the screaming comes. And it goes on and on, echoed and amplified by the bare stone walls, while the sun outside moves further and further up in the sky like an ascending ball of fire... Bond wakes up in on the bed with bandages round his fingers. He hears a shot and reches under the matress to find his favourite gun.. a Walther P99. Bond sneaks out of the door and down some stairs to find a bloody note on the floor. It reads, if you want Jenny back the ransom is $5,000,000. Bond walks outside and sits in his Aston Martin while looking in his folder. Bond finds another new note which reads 'Meet in one hour at the lot'. He drives down the street. The sunroof of the Aston Martin is half open, letting in the cool London air. Suddenly, through the opening, Bond can hear a humming sound, which grows louder and louder with every passing second. Checking his rearview and side mirrors, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. As if to confirm Bond's worst suspicions, just at that moment, something passes by overhead, flying across the face of the afternoon sun, casting strange, vulture-like shadows across the Vanquish's dashboard. Bond looks up and what he sees makes his blood run cold. About a dozen sinister-looking, black, tiny aircrafts, each measuring only about 4 feet in length, are flying in a tight, triangular formation roughly 200 feet above the car a drone separates itself from the pack and, like a Japanese Zero aiming for an American carrier, performs a death-dive toward the Vanquish. Bond mashes the accelerator to the floor, while jerking the steering wheel hard to the right. All 460 horses in the V12 engine kick in, pulling the car forward like a missile. Even so, the drone barely misses hitting the rear of the Vanquish, slamming into the road just a few feet behind the car. A huge explosion erupts, and its shock waves rock the Aston. Meanwhile, Archangel is watching the whole scene on a small LCD panel, mounted on the dash of his Audi S8, which is about a mile behind Bond's car. The images that he sees are being transmitted by a camera located on the belly of Alpha Wolf. Now, he smiles, as his fingers dance on the touch-screen remote that is built into the armrest on his right. His instruction is transmitted via satellite to Alpha Wolf, which in turn relays it to one of drones in the phalanx behind it. The drone detaches from the group, and swoops down toward the Vanquish. Bond takes out the Walther, and points it upward in a two-handed grip. He shoots twice through the open sunroof, and the diving drone explodes a few feet above the car, disappearing in a blinding flash of light and a sound like a thunderclap, raining debris down around the silver Aston.)
Archangel: Nice shooting, Bond. But let's see how you handle this...
(He taps a few keys, and now three drones separate from the pack. They drop down until they are flying only a few feet off the ground, and converge on the Aston in a three-pronged attack, with two coming in from both sides, and the remaining drone heading straight toward the tailpipe. Bond desperately looks up toward the Alpha Wolf, knowing that his only chance to stop the death strike is to take out the leader. However, Alpha Wolf is intelligently flying above its platoon, thus giving Bond no shot at all. Then, he furiously types in another instruction. The three drones surrounding the Aston immediately break off their attack, and return to the pack. Then, Bond's cell phone rings. He answers it.)
Bond: Hello
Bond: (Speaking into the phone) What do you want?
Archangel: You have a nasty habit of taking my women away from me, Bond. Ashlyn and I had been together for 10 years, and you turned her against me. It is you who killed her. And now, you are trying to steal my Jenny from me.
Bond: She was never yours, Archangel.
Archangel: Oh, she's mine all right, whether she realizes it or not. (He laughs bitterly). You know. Funny, isn't it? I have been with dozens of beautiful women, and I would never have thought twice about killing any of them if necessary. But somehow, this one is different ...
(His voice trails off, and when he speaks again, it changes to a hard, cutting tone.)
Archangel: No more sentimentality. It's killing time. I'm giving you two choices, Bond. One, face me like a man. Two, refuse, and I'll unleash the Wolves again, killing you. What's it going to be?
Bond: Just name the place. I'll be there, you son of a bitch!
Archangel: That's the spirit. The rundown construction site in 30 minutes.
(He hangs up. Bond drives a couple more miles but soon here's police sirens. Two of the vehicels drive at either side of him but bond targets his either side missiles at them and accelerates. Just as he accelerates he fires the missiles leaving a huge explosion in the background. He skids into an old rundown construction site and runs towards the carpark where he is confronted by two men wearing black suits and sunglasses. The smaller one grabs him while the larger one delivers one hard blow to his face. With a short spurt of blood Bond has fallen unconcsious and is dragged into a small office where he lies for a few minutes before water is splashed on his face followed by a hard slap waking him up.)
Archangel: Your early, mister Bond.
Bond: **** off
Archangel: You shouldn't say such words, they could be your last... Anyway, do you want a drink to mark the occasion
Bond: Okay, what have you got
Archangel: Not much choice unfortunatley
(Archangel is starting to make bond his classic cocktail. Bond begins to smile as he gradually get's up.)
Bond: How did you know that?
Archangel: I know everything about you
Bond: Even...
Archangel: Especially that
(Bond quietly runs towards him and jumps on his back knocking him to the floor. Bod dives on top of him and begins hitting him ferociosely. He is pushed of and him and Archangel get into a grapple. Bond twists his arm back but Archangel kicks him in the shins, bond stumbles of him and Archangel pulls out a knife from his jacket. Archangel runs at bond and attempts to force it into his face but bond quickly head-butts him as he stumbles back. Archangel get's up while weary and takes one last rub at Bond and takes a strike with the knife. Bond stumbles into the corner as Archangel leans on his desk.)
Archangel: You know James, I was always better
(Bond takes away hhis hand to reveal no wound smirking.)
Archangel: (Screams)
Bond: If you stopped messing around and killed me when you could none of this would have happened.
Archangel: (Shouts) Fine if thats the way you want it!
(Archangel draws out pistol and points it at Bonds face)
Archangel: No-one's gonna give a **** about you anyway except a few losers at MI6.
Bond: (Shouts) Just do it!
(Archangel is about to fire but Bond runs out of the door and Archangel misses.)
Archangel: Come here Bond, you can run but you can't hide!
(Bond is chased upon to a car park while Archangel fires multiple shots and misses. Bond keeps on running up and up with Archangel stumbling behind him inserting a new magazine into his DESERT EAGLE. 50. Bond stands near the edge as Archangel draws his gun at him)
Archangel: Finally!
(Bond puts his hands behind his head.)
Bond: You win
(Bond's watch shoots out a small dart which goes into Archangel's neck. Bond clutches Archangel while he's still alive.)
Bond: Any last words
Archangel: (Laughs)
(Archangel spits in Bond's face so he drops him and his lifeless body drops to the concrete.)
Bond: See you in hell.
(Scene skips to Bond back at MI6 as he walks into Moneypenny's office)
Bond: Moneypenny, what a pleasent surprise!
Moneypenny: Well M isn't too happy.
Bond: Let me tell you the secret of the world...
(Bond is about to whisper in Moneypenny's ear but M calls Bond in)
Bond: Bye Moneypenny
Moneypenny: Love you James, hey you forgot to...
(Door slam's on Moneypenny as Bond walks into M's office, where M doesn't look too happy.)
M: Bond, where are those files, I thought I told you not to make things personal...
Bond: But M, It's all backed up believe me, I want you to listen very carefully, SPECTRE is back.
M: What are you babbling on about now.. (Sigh)
(Bond takes out a folder including information and pictures about the organization)
M: Where did you get this.
Bond: I found it in Archangels desk and thought it would be useful.
M: That brilliant, we can bring them down from the inside, good work 007.
(Bond look's at M with tears in his eyes.)
Bond: Did you rescue Jenny
(M points to the back door)
M: Just about the back having a fag, oh yeah, I thought you said you'd quit too!
Bond: Nothing lasts forever, see you later
M: Wednesday at 1500 hours.
Bond: Got you
(Bond walks outside wearing raincoat with umberella where it is raining and spots Irina under a bus stop where he walks up to her and unexpectedly kisses her passionatly.)
Jenny: I knew you'd come back. I hardly even know who you are yet...
(Bond closes his eys and ignores her while lunging forward against her about to kiss again but is distracted by a large bang.)
Bond: ****!, I'm sorry
Jenny: Bond wait!
(Bond has already ran back to HQ when the Bond music comes on and the film fades off and the credit's role.)
The End
But Bond will return...
So, what do you think. Give it a mark out of 007, ask me to change bits and see if I'm worthy of more fan-fiction, remember, be honest.
Bond 22
By Will Brook
( Gunbarrel sequence. Camera zooms in, from a wide-angle shot, to a beautiful, turn-of-the-century house backing up to a tranquil lake. Partially hidden by the shadow cast by the eaves of the roof, a dark figure moves cautiously along the yard with Mr White lying on the floor bleeding. Bond points the gun in his face.)
Bond: Who do you work for!
Mr White: I'll never tell you
(Bond fires into Mr Whites over knee where he groans and Bond repeats himself louder)
Mr White: Ok, ok SP...
(Mr White is shot in the back by a sniper making a getaway. Bond clambers into a nearby BMW and put's it straight into fifth gear as the engine revs. The car speeds of after the other which as seemingly dissapeared into the small Italien village. A young man is seen running while trying to fix his gun together. The man drops the gun and runs. He ends up at a small dock where the man jumps into a speedboat. Bond is left panting when two police officers push him down and arrest him. Camera fades out into titles sequence. Bond enters M's office)
M: Good morning 007.
Bond: Morning Sir
M: Do you know anything about Archangel
Bond: Arch.. who?
M: Well.. he's out to kill you!
Bond: Why me?
M: Honestly Bond...
(Bond is given a folder with 'For Your Eyes Only' written on it.)
M: Take it, you'll need it
(Bond walks out of M's office and into Moneypenny's. Moneypenny isn't there so bond walks back.)
Bond: Where's Moneypenny?
M: Off!
(Bond goes down in the lift and get's out while Q awaits him.)
Bond: Morning Q
Q: Did you return the DBS from when you went to Montenegro
Bond: Oh,.. erm, sorry
(Bond looks at Q with a stupid looking face.)
Q: Oh grow up 007.. Anyway we've got you a new car, with the usual optional extras installed.
Bond: (Sarcastically) Ooh
(Bond follows Q into another room where he looks at his new Aston Martin Vanquish.)
Bond: Do you have a thing about Aston Martins Q ?
Q: Why, what do you want, a bentley?
(Q looks at bond sarcastically, Bond smiles)
Bond: You can count on me
Q: Honestly, anyway, here is your newly equipped watch. It features a small dart filled with syonide.
Bond: That should cokme in handy
(Q walks off and camera fades. Bond drives the Aston Martin Vanquish at illegal speeds, heading toward the southern suburbs of London. Bond pulls off the freeway, onto a small, twisty road going through a nicely wooded area. After a couple of miles, he turns into a little lane, drives a hundred yards, and parks right behind a small, white van. Bond walks up to the van. There are 2 men inside. The driver is pointing a camera with a zoom lens on a quaint Victorian house sitting at the end of a private driveway, about a hundred yards away.)
Driver: No, no, no, baby! Don't pull the blinds down! Oh **** ! She pulled them down.
His Companion: Why don't you give it up, Charles, you lecher?
(Bond clears his throat. The driver is startled, and drops the camera. He looks up, sees Bond, and his face turns red.)
Driver: I'm sorry, Commander! We didn't know you were coming.
Bond: Obviously. Tough assignment you've got here, gentlemen.
(Both men in the car laugh in relief when they detect the humor in Bond's voice.)
Driver: Yes sir! But we are doing our best, for Queen and Country, naturally.
Bond: Naturally. Now, would you mind showing me your setup?
(The man in the passenger's seat jumps out, walks behind the van, and opens the doors. He and Bond climb inside. The van is full of electronic equipment. The field agent points to a dashboard full of switches, which also has a built-in speaker, and a pair of headphones.)
His Companion: We have got her place all bugged. Every room.
Bond: Turn on the speaker.
(The agent flips a switch. From the speaker comes the sound of running water. By now, the driver has also come inside the van.)
Driver: (Whispers) She is drawing a bath. Usually lasts about 20 minutes. After that, she would turn on some classical music, normally Mozart, to listen to while having dinner.
(Bond looks at the man with amusement.)
Bond: You two are having too much fun out here. Perhaps I should talk to M about...
(Suddenly, a deep male voice, bearing a trace of Slavic accent, comes over the speaker)
Archangel: Hello, darling!
Bond: That's him, Archangel. How did he get inside?
Driver: I don't know. Nobody has passed by this way in the last half hour. We also have another man stationed at the back of the house, and we haven't heard anything from him.
Bond: (sharply) Call him, now!
Driver: (Speaking into a walkie-talkie) Colin, are you there? This is Charles. Report, please!
(There is no answer.)
Bond: He's already dead.
Archangel: Come with me, Jenny. I can't stay in England, and I can't stand being away from you. I'll give you all the money you want...
Jenny: It's not a question of money. My life is here. I can't just pack up and leave, just like that.
Archangel: I don't want to argue with you now. Get your things. Only what's absolutely necessary.
Jenny: (defiantly) No.
(There is a sound of a hard slap, and Jenny cries out.)
Bond: (pulling his gun out of its holster) Call for back-up. I'm going in.
Driver: No, Commander, wait!
(But Bond is already out of the van, running quickly toward the house. As he approaches the main entrance, he clicks off the safety on the Walther P99, and shifts to a two-handed grip. Then, he hears footsteps and voices at the back of the house. Crouching down, moving along the fence, he circles around to the back, in time to see Archangel, in a black leather outfit, pulling on the arm of Jenny, who is dressed in a white fur coat. There are also two stocky bodyguards with them. Bond takes up the shooting stance)
Bond: (Shouts) Hold it right there!
(Archangel stops, but doesn't turn around. He gives a short hand signal to the bodyguards. The two of them immediately jump in opposite directions, while pulling out their Uzis. Meanwhile, Archangel pushes Jenny the ground, and takes off running. Bond has no choice: he has to take care of the 2 thugs first. He tracks the man on the left with his P99, and lets off one shot. The man topples backward, blood spewing from the hole opened up in his throat. At the same time, the thug on the right has started firing. Bond feels the heat of his bullets, as they pass by, just centimeters away from 007's head. Bond goes down to one knee, and shoots again. The thug drops the Uzi, and clutches his shoulder. Incredibly, instead of surrendering or running away, the man roars like a wounded bear, and comes charging toward Bond. Bond aims right at the man's head.)
Bond: Stop!
(The thug keeps coming. Bond squeezes the trigger, and winces. By then, the 2 MI6 agents have run up to Bond.)
MI6 Agent #1: See if shes alright, I'm going after Archangel.
(He runs in the direction Archangel has taken off in. After 50 yards, Bond sees his enemy, Archangel, jumping on one of three black Kawasaki ZX-6R's, hidden in a dense thicket. As Bond runs toward him, Archangel speeds off, the bike's engine roaring. Bond jumps on one of the remaining Ninjas, guns the engine, and takes off after his target. Jenny walks into a private nightclub, full of well-heeled, hip, young professionals working out the stress of their daily lives by gyrating with wild abandon to the pounding techno music that a DJ is spinning. Bond then walks in. Now Jenny walks over to a table in the corner, where 3 men are sitting. They are all dressed in Armani suits, but two of them look like well-paid muscle, and their well-cut suits don't quite conceal the bulk of their firearms, at least to a pair of trained eyes like Bond's. The third man, a thin man in his early 30's, has the demeanor of someone who is used to getting what he wants, and is, in Bond's assessment, probably someone important in London's world of organized crime. As Jenny approaches the table, he barks out something to his bodyguards, who immediately stand up and get out of the way to make room for her. The thin man also stands up, and makes a show out of kissing Irina's hand, and pulling out a chair for her. As she sits down, and starts talking with the man, Bond can see that he is obviously smitten already. Bond smiles, while thinking: "You poor tough guy! She has already got you all wrapped around her little finger." Bond takes up a dark, inconspicuous spot along the bar.)
Bond: A dry Voka Martini, shaken not stirred.
(He then lights up one of his custom-made cigarettes. As he is enjoying his first puff, the door of the nightclub opens, and a woman walks in. Ever since Jenny walked into the room, she has made all the other women seemingly disappear, and Bond could see many men furtively glancing at her even though it was clear that she had company. However, now there is a true competitor for all the male attention, because the newcomer is a stunning woman. Whereas the first feeling that Jenny's beauty normally evokes in a man is one of admiration the first feeling that this woman's beauty evokes is one of a more carnal nature. Her voluptuous body fills out her Dior dress in a most tantalizing way, and when she walks, she moves as sensually as a belly dancer. Hers and Irina's are two kinds of beauty, as different as fire and ice. To Bond's surprise, she walks toward him, then slides onto the empty stool next to him. She orders a bourbon, then turns toward him.)
Ashlyn: Excuse me, do you have a cigarette?
Bond: Sure.
(He opens his gunmetal cigarette case, and offers her one of his special cigarettes, each with 3 gold bands across the middle).
Ashlyn: Very interesting-looking cigarettes, what brand are they?
Bond: I have them custom-made.
Woman: (With a short laugh), Ah, a man with exacting tastes. I like that, by the way my name is Ashlyn Harms.
(extending her hand).
Bond: My name is Bond, James Bond.
(He shakes her hand. Her grip is surprisingly firm for a woman).
Ashlyn: Are you here with someone, Mr. Bond?
Bond: Call me James. And no, I'm here alone. Just unwinding after a hard day's work.
Ashlyn: And what kind of work do you do, James?
Bond: I'm a marketing consultant for a software firm.
Ashlyn: (Teasingly) You look too dangerous to be a consultant. (Smiling) But then, I like dangerous-looking men.
Bond: I'm glad you approve. May I also say that you look very good yourself. That dress is a knock-out.
Ashlyn: Thank you, James.
(At that point, the thin man gets up, and guides Jenny to the dance floor. As multi-colored strobe lights flash across them, Irina dances gracefully, while her companion tries valiantly to keep up, but only succeeds in looking like a cross between a drunk and someone with epileptic seizures. Ashlyn catches Bond's glance at the couple.)
Ashlyn: She moves very well, don't you think? Probably due to some ballet training...
Bond: I suppose so. I'm not so sure about her friend's training, though. Maybe a modern style?
Ashlyn: (Laughing) A salesman with a sense of humor. I'm impressed, listen, I'm staying at this place.
(She pulls out a hotel's card and a pen, and writes a number on the back of the card. She gives it to Bond, and notices his raised eyebrows).
Ashlyn: Too forward of me?
Bond: I like aggressivenes in a woman.
Ashlyn: Good, I was betting you would, hopefully I will see you later, James.
Bond: You presume a great deal don't you, Ashlyn?
Ashlyn: (Laughs)
(Ashlyn then walks away, he smiles and walks behind her but stops and observes Jenny once more. She is still out on the dance floor, toying with her overmatched partner. His two bodyguards hover nearby, as if someone would jump in, and kill their boss if they don't stay vigilant. Jenny is probably safe right now, being guarded as closely as a Presidential candidate. Bond decides to take Ashlyn up on her invitation. He takes out her card and looks at it: she is staying in the Ritz Hotel, room 225. Bond takes one last sip of his vodka martini, then gets up and walks out the door... Sunlight filters in through the heavy bars on the window, hitting 007's closed eyes. Gradually, they blink open, as Bond wakes from his slumber. Suddenly, the door opens again. There he is, standing in the doorway, Archangel, framed by the door, he looks even taller than his 6'2'' height. In his right hand is a small, black leather traveling bag. His piercing eyes travel up and down Bond's body, noting with amusement Bond's weary, disheveled, unshaven state. Smiling, he walks inside the room, and closes the door.)
Archangel: Looks like you had a rough night. I told Ashlyn to take it easy on you, but she does get carried away sometimes.
Bond: On the contrary, she was the perfect ... hostess.
Archangel: Well, the fun part of your stay is over. From now on, you're mine.
Bond: (Defiantly) Whatever you have planned, just do it, and get it over with.
Archangel: Oh, I bet you'd want me to kill you now. But that would be too easy on you. No, I intend to have some fun with you first, just like Ashlyn did. But don't worry, it's a different kind of fun I'm talking about.
(He walks over to the corner of the room, and puts his bag down on a low-slung table. He pulls out a silver laptop computer, puts it on the table, and punches some keys. Then, he turns it, so that Bond can see the screen.)
Archangel: Don't you at least want to know why I picked you as the target?
Bond: I always assumed it was because you like my dashing good looks.
Archangel: (Laughing) You're a cool customer, Bond, I'll give you that much. But seriously, even though the challenge of going up against the famous 007 was tempting, it alone wouldn't be enough to make me come to England, reveal myself to MI6 to lure that fool of an agent in, then use him as bait to catch you. No, I'm a mercenary, Bond, and I don't do anything unless there's a profit in it for me. Let me tell you a little story.
(He pulls the only other chair in the room up next to the table, and sits down.)
Archangel: You see, a long time ago, your agency did something quite nasty to a particular individual, rendering him totally paralyzed. Now, he can't take a **** without being hooked up. He can't even talk without using a computer. Even in such a condition, he has survived for all these years, and all the while he has been plotting his revenge against you. And he has chosen me to be his avenging angel, which seems kind of appropriate, considering my name.
(At this point, Archangel punches some keys on the laptop, and the screen lights up, showing the DVD picture of an austere, sterile room that looks like a hospital room. A huge bed is the centerpiece, and next to it is a small computer with a glowing LCD screen. A man is lying in the bed, a shrunken, all-skin-and-bones figure, with so many wires and tubes connected to him that he looks like a pathetic, bed-ridden porcupine. His skin is almost as pale as the sheet under him, due to extreme lack of exposure to sunlight. Now, the man's little finger on his right hand moves on a little pad next to the computer, and from the computer's speakers comes a metallic, robot-like male voice that is eerily unnerving due to its obvious artificiality.)
Blofeld: Good morning. I bet you don't recognize me. Mr. Bond you probably know what happened 25 years ago when the old 007 dropped me down that old industrial chimney, almost every bone on my body was broken. My spinal cord suffered irrepairable damages. I even suffered a skull fracture, and the part of my brain that controls the vocal cords was crushed. The only part on my body that I can still move is my right little finger, which is why I can still talk to you through this rather ingenious voice generator here.
(Blofeld stops talking. It seems it has taken him a lot of effort to say what he has said, and he now has to rest a little, to gather up enough energy to continue. After a couple of minutes, the emotionless, computer-generated voice starts up again.)
Blofeld: Fortunately, some of my lieutenants are very loyal. They fixed me up, as much as they can anyway, and stayed with me, took care of me through all these years. Most of SPECTRE, though, withered away. Now, just like me, the organization is just a ghost of its former self. MI6 also helped speed up its decline by killing the only person, besides myself, strong enough to lead it, my daughter, my beautiful Nena. Do you know how terrible it is for a father to hear about his daughter's death, at the hands of his most hated enemy? And why did mi6 have to kill her in such a brutal, merciless way, feeding her to that giant snake, in the Louisiana marshlands? (Another long pause). You have caused me a great deal of pain, physically and emotionally. You have destroyed what I held most dear in life, my daughter, and my organization. But now, if you are watching this, it means that the time for my revenge has come. You see, I have never stopped planning for revenge. I know that I can no longer exact my revenge on you personally, so I have waited patiently, until I found the perfect candidate to do it for me. He must be ruthless, daring, intelligent, and more skilled than you in all the ways of violence. It took me years, but I have found that man, Archangel. (Pause). I don't have much time left, Mr. Bond. By the time you watch this, I'm probably dead. But I'll die with the reassuring knowledge that you will soon join me, because once Archangel accepts a contract, he never fails. So, let me now bid you adieu, Mr. Bond. Until we meet again. In hell.
(The screen goes blank.)
Bond: Why me?
(Archangel folds up the laptop, and turns to Bond.)
Archangel: Oh it's not just you 007, almost everyone solely linked with destroying SPECTRE is on the list. The poor, old son of a bitch! He died a couple of months after making that video. You know, back when he contacted me, his organization was almost extinct. But he still had a lot of money, about 500 million to be exact, and a few good contacts. He offered to give it all to me, if I accept the contract on you, Bond. I was doing OK for myself back then, but 500 million in cash, and a chance to take over and revive an organization like SPECTRE, are just too good to pass up. So I took the job, and since that point, you were as good as dead. I spent a lot of time studying you, following your exploits, trying to pinpoint your strengths and weaknesses, and putting together my plan to take you down. Except for the time when you surprised me back at Jenny's house, everything else has worked out exactly like I had planned. So, here we are. Almost time to make your last request.
Bond: My last request is for you to kindly go to hell.
Archangel: Oh I will, Bond, but long after you. Ah, but before I kill you, there's some recreation to be had.
(He pulls out something that looks like a money belt, tightly wrapped up in a bundle, from the traveling bag. Untying the cord that holds the belt together, he lays the belt flat on the table. In its many compartments, instead of wads of money, there are thin, shiny metal spikes that look like those used to skewer meats in a rotisserie, except these are much thinner and sharper. Archangel opens the door, and calls a couple of thugs in. He orders them to bring the table over and place it in front of Bond's chair, then to untie Bond's hands and place them flat on the table. Bond notices that there are metal shackles fixed to the table top, and the thugs now force his wrists into these shackles, and lock them up. Archangel then orders them to remove Bond's shoes and socks as well. After that, the thugs step back, and Archangel pulls up the other chair, and sits across the table from Bond.)
Archangel: (Talking with great enthusiasm) This is something I picked up when I was with the KGB. You see, the most sensitive parts on the human body are the flesh areas under the fingernails and toe nails. These spikes here are designed to go in under the nails, so that I can explore these areas. I will start with your fingers first, then move on to your toes. I will try to prevent you from passing out for as long as I can, but a lot also depends on your threshold of pain tolerance. So, what do you think?
Bond: (Trying his best to put on a brave front) I think you KGB boys need to get out more often.
Archangel: (Giving a short laugh) All right then, let's start.
(Bond tries to make fists out of his hands, but Archangel patiently pries open the fingers of Bond's right hand. Then, he picks up one of the spikes, and with the care of a surgeon, starts slipping it in under the nail of Bond's right index finger. He tells himself never to scream, regardless of what Archangel is doing to his body. But, as Archangel methodically pulls the spikes out from the belt and uses them on him, and as droplets of his blood start to drip onto the tabletop, and then the floor, the screaming comes. And it goes on and on, echoed and amplified by the bare stone walls, while the sun outside moves further and further up in the sky like an ascending ball of fire... Bond wakes up in on the bed with bandages round his fingers. He hears a shot and reches under the matress to find his favourite gun.. a Walther P99. Bond sneaks out of the door and down some stairs to find a bloody note on the floor. It reads, if you want Jenny back the ransom is $5,000,000. Bond walks outside and sits in his Aston Martin while looking in his folder. Bond finds another new note which reads 'Meet in one hour at the lot'. He drives down the street. The sunroof of the Aston Martin is half open, letting in the cool London air. Suddenly, through the opening, Bond can hear a humming sound, which grows louder and louder with every passing second. Checking his rearview and side mirrors, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. As if to confirm Bond's worst suspicions, just at that moment, something passes by overhead, flying across the face of the afternoon sun, casting strange, vulture-like shadows across the Vanquish's dashboard. Bond looks up and what he sees makes his blood run cold. About a dozen sinister-looking, black, tiny aircrafts, each measuring only about 4 feet in length, are flying in a tight, triangular formation roughly 200 feet above the car a drone separates itself from the pack and, like a Japanese Zero aiming for an American carrier, performs a death-dive toward the Vanquish. Bond mashes the accelerator to the floor, while jerking the steering wheel hard to the right. All 460 horses in the V12 engine kick in, pulling the car forward like a missile. Even so, the drone barely misses hitting the rear of the Vanquish, slamming into the road just a few feet behind the car. A huge explosion erupts, and its shock waves rock the Aston. Meanwhile, Archangel is watching the whole scene on a small LCD panel, mounted on the dash of his Audi S8, which is about a mile behind Bond's car. The images that he sees are being transmitted by a camera located on the belly of Alpha Wolf. Now, he smiles, as his fingers dance on the touch-screen remote that is built into the armrest on his right. His instruction is transmitted via satellite to Alpha Wolf, which in turn relays it to one of drones in the phalanx behind it. The drone detaches from the group, and swoops down toward the Vanquish. Bond takes out the Walther, and points it upward in a two-handed grip. He shoots twice through the open sunroof, and the diving drone explodes a few feet above the car, disappearing in a blinding flash of light and a sound like a thunderclap, raining debris down around the silver Aston.)
Archangel: Nice shooting, Bond. But let's see how you handle this...
(He taps a few keys, and now three drones separate from the pack. They drop down until they are flying only a few feet off the ground, and converge on the Aston in a three-pronged attack, with two coming in from both sides, and the remaining drone heading straight toward the tailpipe. Bond desperately looks up toward the Alpha Wolf, knowing that his only chance to stop the death strike is to take out the leader. However, Alpha Wolf is intelligently flying above its platoon, thus giving Bond no shot at all. Then, he furiously types in another instruction. The three drones surrounding the Aston immediately break off their attack, and return to the pack. Then, Bond's cell phone rings. He answers it.)
Bond: Hello
Bond: (Speaking into the phone) What do you want?
Archangel: You have a nasty habit of taking my women away from me, Bond. Ashlyn and I had been together for 10 years, and you turned her against me. It is you who killed her. And now, you are trying to steal my Jenny from me.
Bond: She was never yours, Archangel.
Archangel: Oh, she's mine all right, whether she realizes it or not. (He laughs bitterly). You know. Funny, isn't it? I have been with dozens of beautiful women, and I would never have thought twice about killing any of them if necessary. But somehow, this one is different ...
(His voice trails off, and when he speaks again, it changes to a hard, cutting tone.)
Archangel: No more sentimentality. It's killing time. I'm giving you two choices, Bond. One, face me like a man. Two, refuse, and I'll unleash the Wolves again, killing you. What's it going to be?
Bond: Just name the place. I'll be there, you son of a bitch!
Archangel: That's the spirit. The rundown construction site in 30 minutes.
(He hangs up. Bond drives a couple more miles but soon here's police sirens. Two of the vehicels drive at either side of him but bond targets his either side missiles at them and accelerates. Just as he accelerates he fires the missiles leaving a huge explosion in the background. He skids into an old rundown construction site and runs towards the carpark where he is confronted by two men wearing black suits and sunglasses. The smaller one grabs him while the larger one delivers one hard blow to his face. With a short spurt of blood Bond has fallen unconcsious and is dragged into a small office where he lies for a few minutes before water is splashed on his face followed by a hard slap waking him up.)
Archangel: Your early, mister Bond.
Bond: **** off
Archangel: You shouldn't say such words, they could be your last... Anyway, do you want a drink to mark the occasion
Bond: Okay, what have you got
Archangel: Not much choice unfortunatley
(Archangel is starting to make bond his classic cocktail. Bond begins to smile as he gradually get's up.)
Bond: How did you know that?
Archangel: I know everything about you
Bond: Even...
Archangel: Especially that
(Bond quietly runs towards him and jumps on his back knocking him to the floor. Bod dives on top of him and begins hitting him ferociosely. He is pushed of and him and Archangel get into a grapple. Bond twists his arm back but Archangel kicks him in the shins, bond stumbles of him and Archangel pulls out a knife from his jacket. Archangel runs at bond and attempts to force it into his face but bond quickly head-butts him as he stumbles back. Archangel get's up while weary and takes one last rub at Bond and takes a strike with the knife. Bond stumbles into the corner as Archangel leans on his desk.)
Archangel: You know James, I was always better
(Bond takes away hhis hand to reveal no wound smirking.)
Archangel: (Screams)
Bond: If you stopped messing around and killed me when you could none of this would have happened.
Archangel: (Shouts) Fine if thats the way you want it!
(Archangel draws out pistol and points it at Bonds face)
Archangel: No-one's gonna give a **** about you anyway except a few losers at MI6.
Bond: (Shouts) Just do it!
(Archangel is about to fire but Bond runs out of the door and Archangel misses.)
Archangel: Come here Bond, you can run but you can't hide!
(Bond is chased upon to a car park while Archangel fires multiple shots and misses. Bond keeps on running up and up with Archangel stumbling behind him inserting a new magazine into his DESERT EAGLE. 50. Bond stands near the edge as Archangel draws his gun at him)
Archangel: Finally!
(Bond puts his hands behind his head.)
Bond: You win
(Bond's watch shoots out a small dart which goes into Archangel's neck. Bond clutches Archangel while he's still alive.)
Bond: Any last words
Archangel: (Laughs)
(Archangel spits in Bond's face so he drops him and his lifeless body drops to the concrete.)
Bond: See you in hell.
(Scene skips to Bond back at MI6 as he walks into Moneypenny's office)
Bond: Moneypenny, what a pleasent surprise!
Moneypenny: Well M isn't too happy.
Bond: Let me tell you the secret of the world...
(Bond is about to whisper in Moneypenny's ear but M calls Bond in)
Bond: Bye Moneypenny
Moneypenny: Love you James, hey you forgot to...
(Door slam's on Moneypenny as Bond walks into M's office, where M doesn't look too happy.)
M: Bond, where are those files, I thought I told you not to make things personal...
Bond: But M, It's all backed up believe me, I want you to listen very carefully, SPECTRE is back.
M: What are you babbling on about now.. (Sigh)
(Bond takes out a folder including information and pictures about the organization)
M: Where did you get this.
Bond: I found it in Archangels desk and thought it would be useful.
M: That brilliant, we can bring them down from the inside, good work 007.
(Bond look's at M with tears in his eyes.)
Bond: Did you rescue Jenny
(M points to the back door)
M: Just about the back having a fag, oh yeah, I thought you said you'd quit too!
Bond: Nothing lasts forever, see you later
M: Wednesday at 1500 hours.
Bond: Got you
(Bond walks outside wearing raincoat with umberella where it is raining and spots Irina under a bus stop where he walks up to her and unexpectedly kisses her passionatly.)
Jenny: I knew you'd come back. I hardly even know who you are yet...
(Bond closes his eys and ignores her while lunging forward against her about to kiss again but is distracted by a large bang.)
Bond: ****!, I'm sorry
Jenny: Bond wait!
(Bond has already ran back to HQ when the Bond music comes on and the film fades off and the credit's role.)
The End
But Bond will return...
So, what do you think. Give it a mark out of 007, ask me to change bits and see if I'm worthy of more fan-fiction, remember, be honest.
Comments
Don't.
Give time for people to read it, not everybody has a lot of time during the week. Constant moaning, however tongue in cheek, will put some off.
I haven't read it - I'm one of those that doesn't have a lot of time during the week, and even less at the weekend
I'm flattered that you thought highly enough of my first fan-fic project "Archangel" to borrow scenes from it for your Bond22 script. Reading these scenes now brings a smile to my face. I wrote this fan-fic about 5 years ago, and it was in fact the first piece of fiction of any kind that I've done. Now I can see that it was a decent first effort on my part, full of enthusiasm but lacking polish and depth (I'm just talking about my scenes and not about what you've added). BTW, I like some of the things that you have put in. Keep up the good work. Just remember to take your time when you write; try to put yourself in your characters' shoes, imagine how they would feel/react in certain situations, and then write about it. Basically just try to flesh out your characters as much as possible. The characterization is very important because if the readers don't care about your characters, they won't care about your story either.
Have fun with your future writing projects and (here's a shameless plug) if you have the time and inclination, check out my latest fan-fic "The Birth of Evil". I think you'll like it
JennyFlexFan may appreciate the honor, but I doubt JetsetWilly will!
However,allow me to make a brief suggestion--before you ever consider adapting anything Jetsetwilly's written, you should ask his permission first.
It'd be the polite thing to do.
OK, While England's Dreaming is TM, (c) and (r) me, and unless your name is Barbara Broccoli and you have a fat cheque in your hand, you touch any part of WED at your peril.
Sorry to sound like a diva, but my creation is my own and I do with it what I will. Yes I am aware of the irony given that this is a fanfic, but still, (a) acknowledge the correct writer, you know, like you cared about what you was reading and (b) acknowledge that there might be some pride involved in the writing and have some respect. Thanks for your time.
@merseytart
I really hope you only mean that you will post your thoughts on JSW's terrific work, not meddle with it.
Writing fan fiction is not as easy as it appears, and I didn't want to discourage a young writer just starting out, so I didn't hold it against you for having taken some scenes from my story "Archangel" and using it in your screenplay. However, my lenient attitude should not be interpreted as my giving permission for you to do this again with any work of mine.
In fact, any piece of fan fiction is copyrighted by the author, and using any part of it without the author's permission is a violation of copyright, which is an illegal act.