Opening chapter

The moonlight glittered down upon the beaches of Cabo Poloño, causing the sand to sparkle like diamond dust and the few stones and shells that had avoided erosion to twinkle, trying to be stars on earth. Gentle and reassuring, like a baby’s sleeping breath, the midnight sea rolled in and out, in and out. Caressing the beach and healing the wounds the men had torn into the ground with their people-filled trucks, driving to the little makeshift town a few miles away. It longed to reach the road, for that was the most in pain from the turning wheels. It wanted to level the skin of the earth, tend to the tracks in the sand and let the plants grow freely.

On the rocks, not so far away, the dejected male seals

tried to sleep. However, between the triumphant calls emanating from the island in the sea, their healing scars, stinging from the salt water and protecting their measly territories, sleep was impossible. Even so, they tried; some even lulling in and out of consciousness.

Without a moment of peace to spare, two motor bikes ripped apart the tranquility, with help from the perusing bikers, clad in uniform, or so the seals assumed. Humans were all the same to them; they steal the quiet and vanish away. Gone.

As the down hearted seals cast their displeasures into

the night, James Bond and his accomplice, Pia Rosamin, led the chase to firmer ground. Bond became the leader and guided the pursuit onto the scarce concrete road, meanwhile, the porpoises looked at them, their intelligent eyes filled with curiosity.

Seeing this as a chance for clearer shots, the hunters, who wore a navy blue uniform " which seemed to blend into the shadows " opened fire. Obviously, their commanders were relying on numbers, not skill, for not a single bullet even came close to hitting the crimson bikes, let alone flesh.

All the same, Bond didn’t take risks. Well, no, that was a lie, but Pia was fairly new at this and he didn’t want her hurt on her first assignment. As well as the danger, her ivory skin was so clear in the moonlight and, although her hair was ebony, it was glinting in the slight illumination. Even with death looming around the corner, Bond found his eyes drifting down her body, from her pointed strong-featured face to her long leather-clad legs.

He shook himself.

Now wasn’t the time to be having thoughts like that. Now was the time for survival and focus, maybe later...

No, he thought with dismay, she wouldn’t, within the few hours of knowing her, he knew she wouldn’t. It made him think back to the first time they met.

a

The sight of HQ always made him feel good. Another job well done, another thousand people saved, another coffee break. HQ’s location changed frequently and secretively. The leader Suzanne Coyle would choose two locations, tell everyone they were going to one place, then end up going to another. Luckily for him, Bond knew the calculation for the latitude and longitude. Again, lucky for him, it was only half an hour away.

He smiled slightly to himself as the entrance came into view; an ordinary looking house in the suburbs. It could belong to a wealthy merchant because it looked quite grand, yet Bond knew what lay underneath the surface was far more impressive.

Walking up to the white sparkling door, Bond saw a tell-tale sign of what was placed below: the paving slab was cracked. Now, when others would see this, if they saw it, they would think “bad paving job” but Bond knew better: due to the sudden and unusual vibrations so close to the surface, the ground had shifted slightly. Bond looked left and right. Yes, the others were the same.

Long ago, HQ was positioned in locations of abandonment and decay, but enemies had unravelled the secret so the top security management had devised a new tactic: be as ordinary as possible.

Bond laughed darkly to himself, then froze, but nothing happened. He supposed they didn’t want to fry the neighbourhood children.

Strolling casually up the cracked marble stairs to the door, he inspected the shining brass knob. It was definitely a fingerprint scanner, so he grasped it tightly, turned and continued inside while a female automated voice welcomed him back “Fingerprint analysis complete. Identified as James Bond. Laser beams deactivated. Please proceed to voice identification to confirm identity.”

Making his way towards the closet, Bond gave himself time to appreciate the over perfect rooms that would never actually be used. He mulled it over for so long that the computer got impatient “Please proceed to voice identification to confirm identity” with slightly more urgency.

He spoke in to the microphone disguised as a light switch, “With pleasure.”

The door popped open and where anyone would expect to see a mucky supply store concealed with dust, there was the timeless vanilla interior of a lift. Bond looked through the glass doors on his descent and saw only what he expected to see; men and women in tight suits living a life not even their closest family and friends knew they lived. For example: a woman to the right of him clothed heavily in protective science gear was experimenting on the new bio-weapon on helpless hamsters that flipped over and shrivelled in a matter of seconds. Also, another man close by was shooting with remarkable accuracy using what appeared to be an electrified kitchen utensil.

Walking along the brightly lit gangway, Bond heard many

whispers and suspicious eyes darting his way and flicking back to their unusual work. One man with thick-rimmed glasses smiled rather too eagerly and waved frantically at Bond. He gave an appreciative nod and the young man almost keeled over in joy.

Bond found Coyle’s new office with ease. It was the most impressive room in the entire underground building. He bypassed all security using only his name and walked inside the mahogany door.

“With all your experience and skill you’d think you’d learn to knock!” said a less than impressed voice from behind the chair.

“I did just save Africa from an economic crisis, I think I deserve a little slack...” Bond said smoothly.

Slowly, the chair turned, revealing a thirty-something (of course her real age would never be known) woman of sharp appearance and striking beauty. Her hair was cut into an immaculate bob, her make-up done to perfection and her clothes spotless.

“Yes, but you got me into one!” She replied curtly. “That little trick in the Sahara? Thousands! And that tiny little town on the outskirts of Nairobi? Millions! Of course we can compensate... but you haven’t made it easy.”

“But you managed,” he said with a hint of smarminess, enough to make Coyle’s icy eyes narrow.

“Enough of this nonsense and down to business. I’m sending you off to Uruguay, South America, for a top secret mission-”

“What else?” Bond interrupted cheekily.

She continued as though she had not been interrupted, but Bond could see her patience was wearing thin. “Here is your brief, destroy it the minute you have finished reading it.”

“You’re sending me off already and I’ve only just come home,” he said with a smile.

Coyle moved her hand up to her ear and pushed back the non-existent hair in the way.

“So what is the catch?”

Coyle brought her olive-skinned hand down and gave it a look of absolute betrayal. How dare it give away her feelings so easily to Bond.

“We want you to take a Pia Rosamin with you. She has just completed her initiation and shows a lot of promise. She finished it almost as well as you.”

Bond looked at her in disgust.

“A rookie? No way am I training a rookie.”

“Well, I am the boss, and I say you are.”

Bond’s expression surprisingly resembled that of a toddler whose mother had denied him sweets for a split second before the sight of a stunning woman walking in wiped it from his face.

Her curvy body was squeezed into a tight-fitting maroon suit, her dark emerald eyes regarded Bond with unhidden distaste.

“So, you must be James Bond. I’ve heard a lot about you. There are many great things you have done, but you have a reputation with women that is rather shameful in my opinion. I hope you will keep your distance from me on this mission. If you try anything, I’m very well acquainted with my gun and so will you be.”

Bond saw Coyle smile out of the corner of his eye. Two of a kind, he thought, two of a kind.

b

With a jolt he was brought back to the present. A very life-threatening present.

With the light emanating from the houses, Bond estimated a pursuit of ten on two; not good numbers.

However, Pia seemed to have it under control, she pulled out a sweep grenade (one of the up-to-date, Bond noted) and threw it with alarming accuracy towards the pack.

This started off a chain reaction of explosions partly to do with the weapon and partly to do with the bikes’ frazzled engines and, one by one, the enemy was annihilated like a strike in a bowling alley.

Yet one remained upright, but he soon fell as he struck the bodies and wreckage of his comrades.

Bond halted his bike and approached the wounded man. He looked up at Bond, then at the gun he was holding. “Who?” He asked hoarsely. “Who are you?”

Bond smiled as his finger became tighter upon the trigger: “Bond, James Bond.”

The moonlight glittered down upon the beaches of Cabo Poloño, causing the blood to shine like angry tears.

Author's Note

I wrote this for an english assessment and it's 7 pages long on word, I took it in to class gave it to the teacher and was told I couldn't use it. I was so angry, I wrote bloody pages for you! don't you dare tell me it's too long/not lay out right/not going to get the marks I need! just appreciate a good story will you, ONE WITH OUT LEVELS!!! I don't care what punctuation I've used, or my varied sentences, what's wrong with reading it for enjoyment? Honestly, what ridiculous marking. See what I mean about schools wrecking writing?
Rant over. This should probably go in the description box...
Too late.