#agent-009

[mafiarocket]

Did some redraws of Domino! The outfit to the left is designed by @/boba_elyse on instagram! (Though it seems they deleted unfortunately...)

[xxnoeraxx]

You can take Kaleth out of the job,

But you can't take the job out of Kaleth.

~ This face,

It fills you with,

🌟💥💫 DETERMINA TION 💫💥🌟 ~

[pickledpascal]

Secret Weapon

Chapter Five: A Performance Was Demanded of Me, Now I Have Delivered!

Warnings: Blood, gore, swearing, mature themes, guns, shooting, violence, death.

Word Count: 4.3k

Secret Weapon Masterlist

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

James parked at the side of a long road. They were already in Scotland. It was beautiful with rolling valleys and high up mountains with peaks of snow. Sky was a steel gray color though it seemed. Serene. That’s what it appeared to be but Ezra could tell a storm was brewing. Much like how there was one building inside James’ chest. The man stood on the road, eyes taking in the landscape. It’s been a while since he’s been home. Decades. He was pushed to because of the fate of the world. It wasn’t the best time for him to take Ezra home for the first time. Quite the opposite. 

Ezra leaned against the side of the car, carefully observing Jame while M woke up to join him outside the car. James was tense. As expected for knowing what was to come but there was also the part of going back to his childhood home. Where his parents died. 

“This is where you grew up.” M stated. It wasn’t a question. She knew but James gave her a nod anyway. “How old were you when they died?”

Bond’s jaw clenched, only slightly. “You know the answer to that. You know the whole story. Orphans always make the best recruits.” He hummed. He wasn’t mad, not really. It was just how MI6 worked. He didn’t have any attachments. No one to worry when he’d leave for weeks or even months. Until now. Glancing up at the sky yet again, James pursed his lips. “Storm’s coming.” 

Any emotion he did have was suddenly gone.

—----

As they approached James’ old home, Ezra surveyed their surroundings. The house was in a huge clearing of the forest behind them. They passed a gate, huge and imposing with a statue of a deer on top of it. Decaying with half of it crumbled to pieces. On the only standing pillar, there was a word carved on it: SKYFALL. Ezra glanced from the sign then to James. He could feel the tension rolling off him, waves crashing into each other only to make an even bigger one. 

Ezra set his hand on Bond’s thigh. Almost immediately, the tension was washed away. Belittled into nothing but a small wave rolling onto a sandy shore.

As the car stopped, the trio climbed out. The house looked lonely and deserted, everything looked horrible. More dead than alive. Not how it used to be. Though, Ezra wasn’t sure if it’s been alive for more than it’s been dead.

“Christ.” M said as she looked up at the house ahead of them. “No wonder you never came back.” M being M meant she always said what was on her mind. Sometimes it would be a blessing if she never said anything at all.

They headed for the front door. James opened the door slowly, taking in the sight of his old home. For him, it was like entering a haunted mansion. It was dark inside with barely any light coming through the windows. James entered first, Ezra and M following. Their footsteps echoed on the creaky floorboards as they advanced further inside the house.

But then there was a sound. More floorboards creaked but it wasn’t either of them.

James didn’t seem scared so Ezra didn’t pull out his gun as they turned. From the shadows, emerged a man. An old man. With a shotgun. He was about M’s age with a stark white beard and piercing blue eyes. He was handsome for his age. The man–Kincade–seemed to recognize James, his eyes were on him as he entered the main hall. 

“James… James Bond.” Kincade blinked. It’s been years since he’s seen James. It showed in the wrinkles of his eyes. It was certainly before his time at MI6. Kincade didn’t know anything about James’ job or why he had two strays behind him.

Bond’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he takes in the sight of his old friend. “Good God. Are you still alive?” That earned him a smack from Ezra, even if he didn’t know Kincade yet. “We were all thinking it.” He shrugged.

Kincade looked at the pair, a knowing look in his eyes before he lowered his shotgun. “Heh!... It’s alright. It’s nice to see you too.” He slowly smiled, thankful he could see James. Even if it was for the last time. He shook Bond’s hand eagerly.

“M, Ezra, this is Kincade. Gamekeeper here since I was a boy.” James explained, a light smile on his face as he glanced between his two companions. 

Kincade nodded at the two. “Pleased to meet you, Emma.” He misheard what James meant. Perhaps for the better. He then tilted his head to look at Ezra as he shook his hand as well. “You’re quite the looker, aren’t you?” 

Ezra’s eyes widened slightly before a smirk graced his lips. “I like him.” He chuckled while James had an unimpressed expression.

“You’re a tad late. They’ve sold the place when they thought you were dead. Seems they were wrong.” Kincade changed the subject, looking to James this time. “What are you doing here?”

Bond weighed two options in his mind. Tell the truth or lie. “Some men are coming to kill us. We’re going to kill them first.” Truth seemed to be the best bet.

“Then we’d better get ready.” Kincade accepted his answer. He never was one to back away from a fight. Not when it came to his home.

Ezra was thankful Kincade didn’t ask many questions. After all, it would be hard to explain everything they’d been through up until that point. Some details even he didn’t know. He was around during Silva’s run at MI6 but they ran their missions entirely separately. At least Ezra didn’t go beyond his orders.

Though, he did keep coming back from the dead. 

Soon, Kincade led them to the house’s gun room. Impressive… if it weren’t for the empty shelves. Notches were unclipped and the shelves were bare. James would thank Ezra later for thinking of packing up some guns. 

“They sold the lot to a collector from Idaho or some such place. They were shipped out weeks ago… There’s just your father’s old hunting rifle.” The older man went to grab the rifle, it was the only thing still in its case. He handed it over to James, Ezra hummed as his eyes raked over it. It was beautiful, intricate carvings across the hilt. “We couldn’t let that go.”

M hummed as she looked over the small collection of arms on the table. “Well, thank goodness we brought more.” She huffed as James set the hunting rifle on the table.

“There might be a couple sticks of dynamite from the quarry… But if all else fails…” Kincade set his hunting knife on the table as well. “Sometimes the old ways are the best.”

Ezra shrugged, a light smile on his face. Hopeful. “Well, I particularly love arson. Not sure about you.”

M let out a sigh. Ezra was a great agent but half the missions he went on, something exploded. A big explosion. Not pretty since she was the one that had to deal with the media most of the time. She shook her head. 

“Let’s get ours, hm? See what we have.” James suggested. They didn’t exactly care what they grabbed from Ezra’s unit. They just knew they needed guns, grabbing whatever was in front of them.

—---

Hours later and they came up with a plan. Sort of.

All the windows in the house were boarded up with some traps along the way from the front door. Guns were stashed in random places in case they needed them later on. For now, James had his father’s hunting gun, M had James’ Walther, Ezra had an AK-47, and Kincade had his shotgun–now sawed off. 

James was looking out the window, the boards off to the side of him, when Ezra made his way next to him. The pair were in heavier clothes in exchange for their suits. Though James wasn’t sure if he would die or not, he had to admit Ezra looked attractive in ‘normal’ clothes. He looked great no matter what he wore. Ezra let out a breath of air as he looked out the window with Bond, his gun wrapped around his body with a strap. 

“Waiting around like this is making me anxious.” Ezra admitted softly, glancing down at his gun before he fixed the gloves on his hands. Usually, he knew when his enemy was coming. He’s dealt with worse but knowing was so much more comforting than not.

James, despite their conditions, smiled. “We’re going to be okay.” A lie. Someone was going to die. It was either going to be Silva or one of them. But Bond was a liar for a living. It was his default setting.

Ezra cocked his eyebrow at James. He knew the truth. Even if James didn’t want to give it to him. For comfort, Bond pressed a light kiss to Ezra’s lips. It was shorter than their first but held a different kind of weight to it. If either of them were going to die, then this moment was the last thing either of them wanted to think about before life drained from their eyes.

Moments later, after they pulled away, M spoke up from her position at the old dining table. “I fucked this up, didn’t I?” She sighed. 

“No. You did your job.” James admitted. He felt this coming. The doubt settled into M’s mind. Just what Silva wanted to happen. He paused, only for a second. “I read your obituary of me.” He admitted. 

Ezra cocked his head with a light chuckle. “And?” M asked as she looked up at the man.

“Appalling.” Bond hummed.

M looked down at her gun, a little disheartened but she expected as such. “Yeah, I knew you’d hate it. I did call you ‘an exemplar of British fortitude.’” 

“That bit was alright.” James shrugged.

A few seconds after that conversation ended, there was the sound of dogs barking in the distance. Nothing came right after that but they knew. Ezra and James exchanged a look. They were close.

“You ready?” James asked softly.

Ezra hummed, reading his gun. “I’m always up to the job, 007.” 

Something about the way Ezra would use James’ designation number… it did things to him. But he didn’t have the time for that at the moment. 

The pair stared out the window as dark, black cars approached the gateway. Figures emerged from the cars, heavily armed. Silva’s mercenaries. Ezra looked at the men. Silva wasn’t there. Perhaps he was waiting for later. The men approached the lodge slowly, creeping through the fog like wraiths. The only sound they made was their feet crunching across the moorland. They communicated through silent hand signals. Professionals. Two men split off from the others, disappearing around the side of the house.

Ezra quickly went to get rid of those two, silently making his way over to them. One was behind the other so Ezra swiftly picked him off first and then the other. Two broken necks later, Ezra could hear the DB-5 shooting away at the men in the front. 

He made his way inside, careful with feather-light steps so as to not step on the wrong floorboards. Ezra shot at two men once inside, bodies falling to the floor as soon as the agent saw them. Riding off instinct was all he could do. At least they were good, Ezra hadn’t even had a scratch on him yet… besides some of the rubble from nearby explosions.

More men seemed to keep on coming, they were about to catch Kincade off guard as he fumbled to grab more shotgun shells from his pockets. But James killed one, coming out of nowhere with a stashed gun, Ezra killed the other. 

They worked quite well as a team.

Kincade took a breath, wide-eyed as he stared at the pair. “You drop something?” James asked with a shit-eating grin. 

Then, they heard a commotion in the kitchen. That had to be M. James and Ezra rushed to the room, Bond shooting down the stray man as he looked at the damage. His house was going to crumble by the end of the day. He could tell.

“You hurt?” Ezra asked softly, lowering his gun slightly.

M let out a light laugh, “Only my pride. I never was a good shot.”

James flipped over the final body. It wasn’t Silva. “He’s not here.” He moved around the room, pursuing his lips. “He’s not here.” He repeated through clenched teeth. He thought they were done. Oh, Silva was just getting started.

Outside, like a great prehistoric beast, an army of helicopters swept through the valley. They flew low over the moor. Kincade and M are behind Ezra and James as they look out the window to see the approaching onslaught. They were so screwed.

“Always go to make an entrance.”  James whispered to himself.

Ezra glanced behind him at the older pair. “You two, go to the kitchen… Now!” He yelled. The only time M would excuse such a thing. They quickly made their way over to the kitchen as James smashed open a shutter and the glass with the butt of his gun. He opened fire. Sighing, Ezra did the same. He started to shoot at the extra men.

The helicopter turned and suddenly a machine gun was pointed at the house. Windows shattered, walls pierced, more twilight started to break through into the house. James ran, Ezra close behind him as they dodged the gunfire. Bullets ripped and ricocheted only a few feet behind them as they made their way to the kitchen. Debris flew past them, so much for getting out of this without a scratch. Glass shards sliced at Ezra’s cheeks as it flew.

“Get behind the arch!” Bond yelled, pointing. It was a stone arch, just strong enough to withstand the bullets. M and Kincade ran over to take cover behind the archway, bullets still piercing through the house.

As Bond quickly grabbed another ammunition clip from underneath the table, the helicopter began circling the house. It continued its fire as it circled. Ezra took cover with James, taking a glimpse at the helicopter through bullet-ridden shutters. The helicopter was annihilating the outer walls of Skyfall.

It was that time. “Go to the chapel, use the tunnel.” Ezra yelled as he looked through the lens of his gun. Hurriedly, Kincade led M to the study, where the tunnel to the chapel was. The helicopter slowed, moving towards the front of the house as it ceased fire. Perhaps they were checking to see if they were dead.

They needed to try harder than that.

James led Ezra to the main hallway, eyes scanning the house as he worked out their next move. They were in the shadows, guns ready. Where they were meant to be it seemed. Through the front door, blown to bits at this point, Ezra could only see Silva and his men. They prepare to fire… Only to be stopped when a device rolls into the hallway. 

“Fuck.” Ezra cursed, the pair dove for cover in the great wall just in time as the device exploded. 

They got up from their spot, only to have to dive for cover a few more times as Silva kept on throwing these bombs into the house. Taking a breath, Ezra rose to his knees after the relentlessness of Silva’s bombs died down. 

“Everyone listen to me! Don’t you dare touch her. She’s mine.” Silva’s voice filtered inside from all the bullet holes and blown up windows.

Like lightning, Bond got on his feet and looked for a shot at Silva. He saw the shadow of Silva in the dining room, caused by the helicopter’s searchlight. Ezra hoisted his gun back up from the position on the floor and reloaded as quietly as he possibly could. 

Silva’s voice filtered in yet again, an almost flirtatious tone in his voice. “Can your friend come out and say hello? I know Ezra is here somewhere.” He teased. 

A new ignited fire in James’ eyes, he fired outside. But Silva’s already gone. Another canister–bomb–rolled in and sent Bond flying. He was okay, recovered quite fast. Ezra let out a low growl from under his breath, setting up his gun at the edge of a window to get a good look at Silva. It’s hard with so many people with guns, catching a single movement out of the corner of their eyes.

Smoke started to spread throughout the house, beginning to suffocate Ezra. He took a few deep breaths, getting away from the smoke as best he could. Another bomb exploded just as James came back from a cellar. He dragged heavy gas canisters towards the study. Ezra narrowed his eyes at them, confused.

Oh.

Oh.

James was going to blow up the entire house. Wouldn’t be too hard, the whole of Skyfall was burning. Ezra followed, taking a peek outside when he heard the machine guns go off again but they weren’t pointed at the house anymore. It was shooting at the DB-5, riddling the car with bullets until it exploded.

“He’s a petty one.” Ezra sighed as James set the canisters down.

Bond let out a light huff. A laugh. He grabbed his father’s cigar box, retrieving a few matches and striked one alight. He then used the match to spark up the fuse… leading up to two sticks of dynamite that were strapped to the gas canisters. He didn’t need to look back, he knew how much time they had.

“I always hated this place.” James hummed, taking Ezra’s hand in his as he ran to the priest’s hole. Ezra didn’t have much of a choice in running with him. It was either get burnt to a crisp or follow Bond. Following James was a much better option. 

They ran, hand in hand, racing to try and get away from the blast as soon as possible. Distantly, yet somehow close, they heard the explosion go off. The tunnel shook and Ezra could tell the flames were about to reach them. Just needed to push a little harder. Suddenly, James pushed Ezra into an alcove–a small cave–and dove after him. The flames ripped past them.

Ezra coughed, pulling himself up as he took a breath. Then he helped James up–he couldn’t contain it anymore–he pressed a deep, swift kiss to his lips. Surprised, James gave him a light smile. “We need to go to M…” James said softly. Ezra nodded, taking his hand as they continued to run. 

They didn’t know if Silva was still alive. They needed to be sure.

Ezra and James emerged from the tunnel. Behind them, Skyfall was nothing but a raging fire. Destroyed. Much like James’ own past was. The pair started a sprint when they realized Silva and a few of his men were still alive–making their way to the chapel. Stakes were high. Life or death. But Ezra marked Silva for death. He pushed faster than James, feet pounding as he leapt over logs and down small hills. 

Neither Ezra nor James slowed down when one of Silva’s men got closer to them–Ezra took a jump and kneed the man in the face. It knocked him clean out. Bond was similar when another man appeared, taking him out with brutal efficiency as they raced on… Until they finally reached the frozen lake.

The lake which was their last obstacle between them and the chapel.

They could only cut Silva off if he went straight across the lake. James looked down at the ice, testing it out with his foot. A low cracking noise could be heard. Well, shit. The pair exchanged a look. It was unfortunate but it was the only way. They ran across the lake. They were going to make it. They were going to beat Silva–

Gunshots. Bullets hit the ice.

The pair slid to a halt. Cracks started to form from the bullets. Ezra pursed his lips as he studied the pattern of the ice. Silva, on the edge of the lake, enjoyed their helpless predicament. He looked horrible, with blood oozing from his forehead and his hair a mess. “You see what comes of all this running around? All this jumping and fighting, it’s exhausting.” Silva took a deep breath, eyes boring into the two men. “Relax. You need to relax.”

A gun cocked. Another of Silva’s men. The last of them but he held the pair at gunpoint, with no means to defend themselves unless they wanted to try hand-to-hand. Not smart. Silva smiled before he turned. There was a light in the chapel. A glow of a torch moving inside. 

Kincade and M.

“Ah, well… Mother’s calling. I’ll give her a goodbye kiss for you.” Silva smirked, raising his gun to fire at Bond.

James stared at the ice then glanced at Ezra. He hoped the taller man would forgive him later… If they survived. In a flash, he grabbed the mercenaries’ gun and fired it downward. It sent all of them into the water. With one shot, Silva fired into the water.

He missed. Yeah, what a horrible agent he would have been. Ezra had no idea why Silva used to be M’s favorite.

Ezra panicked, just for a moment, at the feeling of the cold water. Still, Silva’s man went to fight Bond as they started to sink down and down and down… Ezra narrowed his eyes as he swam a bit to move so he could put the mercenary in a head-lock, choking the man to death with just the right amount of pressure. A few moments later Bond is out of the man’s hands. When Bond is freed, the pair look up. There’s nothing but ice for what seemed like miles, high above their heads. Then Ezra caught a glimpse of something–a flare gun on Silva’s man. Ezra lunged for it, aiming it above their heads before he took the shot. 

The ice above them broke open, shattered.

Ezra and James pushed their bodies as hard as they could, getting closer and closer to the surface. James is out first, helping Ezra out as they catch their breaths. Frigid water dripped down their hair and onto their skin. For a moment, Bond admires seeing Ezra soaked. The pair stood up, backs straight. Silva made his way to the chapel, they could tell. 

Without so much as a single nod, they shot off from the ice. M was still in danger.

James’ fingers clenched around a knife in his pocket. Kincade’s hunting knife. It seemed the old-fashioned way was the way to go this time. Closer and closer… The pair arrived at the chapel just in time. Bond expertly threw his knife right into Silva’s spine, gun clattering to the floor. Clinging onto his last breath, Silva turned to see the two agents–eyes were wide with fury, disappointment, and rage. He took a few steps toward them, dropping to his knees.

007 took the liberty of taking a few steps forward. “Last. Rat. Standing.” He gritted out, looking down at the dead man. 

M took a small breath, gaining the agents’ attention. “007. 009. What took you so long?”

“We got into some deep water.” Ezra hummed as he made his way over to M, holding her gently. From the wound at her side, he could tell… this was it for M. She was bleeding out and it seemed there was nothing they could do about it. Bond quickly made his way to Wayne’s side.

M coughed up some blood. It dripped down her lips. “This is it, hm?” Her breathing became labored, too hard for her. Ezra cupped M’s cheek, looking into her eyes. “I did get one thing right… You two…” She glanced from Ezra to James. “Ezra… you… you would make a great M.” She whispered. And then she was gone, life drained from her eyes. 

They’re silent, Kincade watched from his place. Neither James or Ezra cry but they feel her loss almost immediately. An empty cavity…

—---

Ezra was still getting used to the padded door and… well, having an office. When M said he would make a good M, he didn’t think she specifically appointed him to be in her will. Or the fact that parliament accepted her request. He just hoped he could be in the field every once in a while. It was a bit nice… going to far off places–dangerous places. The lifestyle of a secret agent wasn’t always glamorous but it had its moments. 

Like in Macau…

Tanner opened the door to the office, letting James inside. Right, Ezra was now their superior. Tanner was his assistant. He couldn’t believe it. The door closed behind 007. Just the two of them again. Just the way Ezra liked it. 

“How’s the wounds holding up, sir?” James asked, a grin on his face. He didn’t really need to use the formalities but they were in M’s office. He felt as if it fit. Plus, if he didn’t respect the new appointed M then some agents would unfortunately follow. 

Ezra’s face had a few, small bandages on the side of his head as he sat behind the desk. It all felt so official. The heavy desk Not something he was used to. The suits were, though. At least he could see his child more often. That was a nice perk of being the new head of the British Secret Service when his child worked in the Q-Branch.

“Fine. I’ll be better soon. Can’t say the same for you.” Ezra teased softly. “So, 007. There’s lots to be done. Ready to get back to work?” He placed a new Top Secret case file on the desk in front of James.

“With pleasure, M.” Bond hummed, glancing from the file to meet Ezra’s dark eyes. “With pleasure.”

[theplottdump]

Things were going to start moving more quickly now.

In Poppy's limited Field Agent experience, the last few days of these major U.N.I.T. operations often followed the same pattern. All the planning, all the recon, all the gratuitous foreshadowing- all culminated into one carefully coordinated crescendo. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩.

In the past she'd stood on the sidelines as the other Angels took the lead, coming in at the last second- the final linchpin.

But today this mission was hers. Finally front and center, all eyes were on 009.

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗣𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱. 🎪

[notta-robot]

009. — NINE TO FIVE

A clean, simple paper template. It can be anything! From an application form to a special agent file with little bits and bobs for notes, lyrics, and even shopping lists. Built for plenty of text, it’s perfect for any characters with their fair share of lore.

&& —

Instructions on using and customising the document are provided with the purchase.

Please do not remove my credit.

The face claim used in the document is Dev Patel.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

— DOWNLOAD

[double-0h-no]

Mel's first 007 Fest

All right, time to do a big master post on my plans for this Fest. I'm so excited for this!

My OC for the Fest is Gale Winters from medical (and, note to self, in character posts will be tagged with #Gale Winters rp shenanigans)

If anybody wonders where the red-eyed icon from @melodious-me is from, that's my main tumblr.

And now to my creative goal for the fest: I'd like to try and tackle 4 bingo tables. I'll probably combine 2 at a time mostly because I appreciate more precise prompts and like this, I can combine characters with tropes and all that.

The tables to tackle:

I'll make another post about this at the end of the week, but should you have any prompts that you'd like me to fill, send them my way!

Under the cut are the prompt tables as lists with the respective links as soon as I post them both in tumblr and ao3. The combinations, by the way, were chosen by the luck of the dice.

Happy 007 Fest!

007: Word count

50 - with conditioned - tumblr ao3

100 - with animal character - tumblr ao3

200 - with infected - tumblr ao3

300 - tumblr - ao3

717 - with betrayed - tumblr ao3

500 - with Lotion - tumblr ao3

777 - with kept secret - tumblr ao3

1000 - with civilian bystander - tumblr ao3

3000 - with medical staff - tumblr ao3

008: It's not all about Bond

main villain - with silenced - tumblr ao3

animal charcter - with 100 - tumblr ao3

love interest - with Cat Paw Poem - tumblr ao3

hench/secondary villain - with Batman Gadgets - tumblr ao3

medical staff - with 3000 - tumblr ao3

fellow MI6 employee - with proof of life - tumblr ao3

helpful non-MI6 agent - with captured - tumblr ao3

tech support - with interrogated - tumblr ao3

civilian bystander - with 1000 - tumblr ao3

009: Whump

conditioned - with 50 - tumblr ao3

paralyzed - with birdwatching - tumblr ao3

silenced - with main villain - tumblr ao3

betrayed - with 717 - tumblr ao3

proof of life - with fellow MI6 employee - tumblr ao3

interrogated - with tech upport - tumblr ao3

kept secret - with 777 - tumblr ao3

captured - with helpful non-MI6 agent - tumblr ao3

infected - with 200 - tumblr ao3

001: Collab Prompt Table

Lotion - prompt by kitten-kin - with 500 - tumblr ao3

Birdwatching - prompt by thestalwartheart - with paralyzed - tumblr ao3

Cooking - prompt by dude-watchin-with-the-brontes

Bond girl from not!Craig era - prompt by Linorien

M and the Starbucks situation - prompt by Sage - tumblr ao3

Q hates green - prompt by myndelling

Cat Paw Poem - prompt by L219TJ - with love interest - tumblr ao3

Batman Gadgets - prompt by Sage - with hench - tumblr ao3

L219TJ's other prompts

[pommedepersephone]

007 Fest Introduction Post

Hello, I'm Pomme (she/they)

I am joining Station Atlantic for my first Fest!! I'm a fan-fic writer and artist, and while I have just come back to writing and illustrating fics this year, Bond was my very first fandom way back in the day. And you never forget your first ;)

My character for fin-fiction events this Fest is Rin (they/them)

NAME: Rin Rigg POSITION: Covert Operations Specialist BIO: Mission briefings aren't all mug shots and lists of known associates. They also include history of the local area, current politics, climate and details about major social events like holidays and festivals. All that research has to be done by someone. And by someone, I mean me. The agents and executives are smart enough to figure it out will cue me into the little things they want to know. 004 likes a list of local karaoke bars. 009 wants to know whatever is the most iconic of local cuisine. Tanner always asks the best place to watch the sunset. So while most people might not realize it, I know all sorts of weirdly intimate details about the various staff who I've helped put together briefings for. Which might end up being useful as most of the staff are incapacitated by the Big Snooze...

[mairitess]

form 009-xm3rc, signed, in triplicate // to be known, ch. 2

summary: jordana has her own ambitions. and her own friends.

a/n: i'm giggling so hard i can't believe people like this and that i'm so influenced i whipped out this next part bc of comments luv and thanks? this is also ch. 2 but i don't think it necessarily haaaaaas to be read in order ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ do what u wanna do + also on ao3!

words: 2.8k

tags: angst, jaya mentioned, jordana characterization if it were up to me, and now it is up to me, jordana pov, dr s2 spoilers

warnings: n/a

preview:

They shrugged in tandem unnervingly. “You know us. There’s the form for filing a complaint of abuse of power, Form A17-PQ9 for actually complaining about an abuse of power, the form for filing a complaint of aiding and abetting a coup, Form A38-BU9 for actually complaining about aiding and abetting a coup, the–” “I get it!” Jordana interrupted. “Where do I file the form for filing a complaint about wasting my time?”

Nya’s last words echoed painfully at the tail end of all of Jordana’s thoughts, steady like a heartbeat, as Jordana walked through the fluorescent-lit halls of the Department of Reassignment. Gotta fill out form BA-7180. Gotta notarize form BA-7180. I’m not what I do. I’m more than what I do. Have to make sure Agent Walker has copies of Form 009X. Have to go to HR to corroborate Agent Walker’s statement. I’m not what I do. I’m more than what I do? Need to mediate a meeting between Lord Ras and Agent Walker. Need to find Nokt. I’m not what I do. I’m more than what I do.

Steady, for sure, but believable? Jordana wasn’t sure. Though maybe it would become more believable the more she said it. What was it that one wizard said? The more you believe something the more you manifest it? No – That couldn’t be right. Jordana ran with facts and figures, not signs and persuasions. Certainly not manifestations. Sure, there was elemental power; sure, she could harness Source Dragon energy; sure, she’d learned a good bit of Theroxian magic… Yet those still felt markedly different from simply sitting somewhere, thinking really hard over and over again, just willing something to be and it becoming.

Here were the facts and figures, at least those she liked to keep at the forefront of her mind:

Figure: Jordana had a 74% success rate while working under Dr. LaRow.

Fact: The success rate took the number of inventions she suggested, with the number of inventions she worked on, with the number of inventions tested and passing lab trials, with the number of inventions that were used practically outside of a simulated scenario.

Figure: Sora’s success rate, though she was working under Dr. LaRow for far less time than Jordana, was 84%.

Fact: Don’t ask Jordana how she knows.

Fact: She knows because she was counting.

Figure: Jordana’s success rate after being recruited by the Administration increased to 89%.

Fact: Jordana was only recruited as a mercenary.

Fact: If Lord Ras’ plans fell through, Jordana was more than happy to join the Department of Reassignment full-time.

Fact: It wasn’t an “if.” It was a “when.” Lord Ras had overstepped when he lost Nokt.

Fact: Jordana only knew because Agent Walker offhandedly told her. “It’s a good thing you’re not putting all your eggs in one basket,” he said. “That ship is sinking fast. We’re just making sure we have all the evidence for it.”

Agent Denholt begrudgingly walked Jordana over to an empty desk, and Jordana plopped her stack of files loudly on the table. “Agent Mantha is out doing surveillance for the next few hours, so make sure to finish by then,” they said.

Jordana hadn’t necessarily thought of herself as the “bureaucratic type” while she was working with Dr. LaRow, and the paperwork surely was not a highlight of the position she held now. But the more time she spent with the Administration, the more she warmed up to the idea of the Administration – not as pencil-pushers, but as enforcers of order. Jordana liked order the same way she liked her facts and figures: You were either right or wrong, good or bad, acting as you should or acting as you shouldn’t. All she needed was to be told where the line was, and from there, all Jordana had to do was sort.

When the Administration first found her, Jordana had just finished her first week with Dr. LaRow, and was still riding off the highs of achieving a childhood dream. Though Dr. LaRow mentioned Sora every two seconds, Jordana didn’t care – one of them was there, and the other wasn’t. She didn’t quite know, either, why Sora left. Probably couldn’t take the pressure. But Jordana could take it. She wasn’t a quitter.

“A girl of your talents could go much further than one realm,” one of the agents said. “It may just be one realm,” Jordana retorted, “but it’s mine.”

While extremely flattered by the Administration’s initial offer to join them, to put her skills to use with the Department of Reassignment, Jordana simply took it as proof she was good enough to compete with Sora. Was Sora getting recruited by the logistical gatekeeper of all the Realms? No. Well, probably not. But whatever the Administration was offering wasn’t enough for Jordana to leave the laboratory. Besides, what could an enforcing agency want with an inventor, a scientist?

The second time the Administration found her, two agents – Agent Pi’idi and Agent Urda – materialized from a bright portal right after Lord Ras had convinced her to join with his efforts. She’d just turned her back once Lord Ras sifted into the darkness of the night, and in his place were the Administration’s enforcers. Though this time, their recruitment tactics were different.

“Do you really think the Administration would let Ras go so far to achieve total domination like that?” They asked her. Jordana’s hands shook, yet she managed a casual shrug. “The Administration hasn’t stopped him yet.”

They shrugged in tandem unnervingly. “You know us. There’s the form for filing a complaint of abuse of power, Form A17-PQ9 for actually complaining about an abuse of power, the form for filing a complaint of aiding and abetting a coup, Form A38-BU9 for actually complaining about aiding and abetting a coup, the–”

“I get it!” Jordana interrupted. “Where do I file the form for filing a complaint about wasting my time?” She snarked, drawing a sarcastic laugh from the suited agents.

“Trust us,” Agent Pi’idi said, smirking. “We’ll make your time well-worth it.” “All we’re offering is a tour,” Agent Urda added. “You give us an hour to see what we do, we tell you what we’re looking for, and you give us a decision in a week.” “Do you have all the paperwork already filed for an outsider?” Jordana asked, jokingly. “Where’s my visitor’s badge?”

Agent Urda pulled a rectangular piece of plastic from his lapel while Agent Pi’idi pulled out a stack of files in triplicate. Jordana could see the notarized stamp on top, peeking through from underneath the carbonless copy paper. “We’re the Administration. Of course we do.”

------

The tour was exactly an hour as promised, Jordana circling around the Department of Reassignment and back where she started. While Agents Pi’idi and Urda brought her in, the department manager, Agent Walker was the one to give her the tour. At first, she thought his rambling and verbal meandering were nerves, but after 20 minutes, she realized – he didn’t really care. Jordana, surprising herself, kind of liked that.

“So you’ve seen each of the departments, met some of the other agents… This is my office. Rule of thumb: Do not call on me unless there’s an emergency. What counts as an emergency?” “Someone needs realm reassignment.” “And?” “That’s it.” “Yup. That’s it. Any questions?”

Agent Walker just did what he needed to. He must have been good enough at the work to become manager, but he didn’t gloat about it, nor seem like a try hard. And from the video game controller in his hand, Jordana could make a pretty good guess as to what he was really spending his time on while at work.

“Just one.” Jordana frowned. “What does the Administration want me for? I don’t understand how I could be of any help.”

Agent Walker shrugged, and pulled a slip of paper from the folder he’d tucked under his elbow while they walked. “It says here that the Administrator thinks you’d fit well with the Department of Reassignment. Uh… Hold on.”

He mumbled to himself as he skimmed through, flipping the page. “‘Jordana’s commitment and advanced technological understanding, notably through her development of containment and transference vessels for pure elemental power, would best be recognized as reinforcement of Administration duties and responsibilities as opposed to threats,’” Agent Walker quoted. “‘Jordana’s conscription or, preferably, allegiance with the Administration would be a useful asset to Administration goals.’”

He looked at her. “Does that make sense?”

Jordana turned the paper towards herself, re-reading it. “It says you’d prefer my ‘allegiance’ over my ‘conscription.’ So that means…”

Agent Walker returned the pages to their respective folder. “What do you know about the Administration, Jordana?” “Not much,” she admitted. “Just that it’s slow and bureaucratic. Nothing gets done.”

Agent Walker smiled. “Good. That’s precisely what they want you to think.”

He opened the door to his office, gesturing for her to step inside. There was a standard desk with two meeting chairs, no windows, and a small gaming set-up with a TV and beanbag. The TV’s lights were dim, but still gave away Agent Walker’s paused gameplay. Jordana took a seat while Agent Walker closed the door.

“Everything has its place, Jordana. Everything belongs somewhere. My controller,” he said, tossing it on the beanbag as he moved to sit across from Jordana, “connects to the console. My computer sits on my desk. And just as everything belongs somewhere, so does everyone.” Agent Walker’s brow furrowed, somewhat unbecomingly serious.

“I mean that in two ways. The first is in the literal job of the Department of Reassignment. After the Merge, all we wanted to do was make sure everyone got back to where they belonged. Call it going home, if you want.” Jordana nodded slowly, and Agent Walker leaned forward towards her. “The second is that everyone has their place in the system. And that’s where you would come in.”

What… System?

“Some people actively avoid their place. But that upsets order – everything was in order before the Merge. The Administration, sometimes, needs people…” Agent Walker trailed off, choosing his words. “Adjacent to the Administration to help find them. Why spend three days filing Form 5U-O3E to search a last known location when the subject may have left it two days before? Why not,” he suggested, “simply file Form 009X, to process and reattribute mercenary acquisitions of targets?”

The older agent smiled to himself, proud. “It’s practically a game, Jordana. You find them, we catch them, and I put them back in their place. A completely reimagined, completely expedited process.” Jordana’s gaze flickered up to a certificate framed and hung on the wall, just above Agent Walker’s desktop. Greatest Annual Contributions to the Department of Reassignment.

“And what do I get?” Jordana asked.

Agent Walker leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “When everyone’s back where they belong, Jordana… All the realms will have you to thank. Nobody could do it like you.”

He smiled, earnest. “That’s why we’re asking you, Jordana. Only you. And if you agree to help us, we’ll make sure everyone knows you saved them from the effects of the Merge.” He kept saying you. She’d never heard her name used so many times in one conversation, attached to such promises of greatness and success.

Bright lights started dazzling in Jordana’s head, the buzz of cheers and congratulations filling her ears. “Oh, and if you thought Imperium’s labs were advanced… Wait ‘til you see the Department of Innovation.”

“I get to work there?” Jordana asked, feeling lightheaded with fantasies of what could be. “The Department of Reassignment doesn’t just put people in their place, Jordana. We decide where everything goes.”

The next day, Agent Walker received a completed and signed form through the pipes, in triplicate. Form 009-XM3RC: Filing to Work in Consortium With the Administration.

------

Lord Ras was completely unaware of Jordana’s dual allegiances, completely engrossed in his own endeavors. Jordana didn’t mind. She felt what she was doing was bigger than Lord Ras, even if he managed to bring back the entirety of the Forbidden Five. The Administration pulled more strings than she could’ve imagined. Jordana felt lucky to be pulling on a few of them herself.

Her first mark was a test – a Juniper Long, attempting to evade returning to her work as a lighthouse keeper in the Never-Realm by hiding out in the Wyldness. Easy grab, at least, in between her orders from Lord Ras. Jordana had caught Juniper against a tree, Juniper confused beyond all measure, and Agent Walker opened his portal and swiftly took Juniper away. For sake of appearances, Agent Walker would often pretend to be somewhat cold to Jordana when he finished their tasks; he’d pretend he was taking her work from her, or that Jordana didn’t have as much agency in her work as she truly did. Jordana didn’t mind the theatrics. Besides, they couldn’t have people outside the Administration realize that there were more Agents and pseudo-Agents than the public thought.

“It’s a balancing act,” Agent Walker tried explaining to her once. “Remember what I told you about everyone having their place, everything being part of the system?” “Yeah. I don’t think I ever really understood what you meant by ‘system,’ though,” Jordana admitted.

He laughed. “Think of it like… Like yin and yang. The Administration isn’t on a ‘good’ side or a ‘bad’ side. We’re bureaucratic because order – systematic, global order – requires both. Life itself is about opposites moving together, forever, complimenting the force of the other as it goes.” Agent Walker’s voice grew quiet as he finished, as if he were recalling some distant thought he couldn’t quite place.

“… I guess.” Jordana shrugged, and Agent Walker laughed again. “You’ll get it when you’re older. Maybe.” She shoved his shoulder, and he clutched it closer to him in mock hurt. “Hey! I’m your superior!"

Jordana stuck her tongue out, and she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be as a grin spread across her face.

Agent Walker was perhaps one of the best people she’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. He was kind to her and gently corrected her mistakes while (maybe over-) congratulating her on her successes. Sometimes she’d visit the Department and hear him speak so highly of her it made her feel shy. No one in Imperium was proud of her the way Agent Walker was. Agent Walker would always ask about her new inventions, and as it turned out, he was pretty handy with technology himself. Soon enough, they were developing new gear together. It might not have been her dream job, but Agent Walker was far better than Dr. LaRow ever was. Even with his help, everything she did still felt like hers. It was Agent Walker’s idea for Jordana to etch a maker’s symbol at the bottom left corner of her creations, something he said was inspired by a blacksmithing tradition he’d heard about long ago.

------

A few months into their agreement, Agent Walker called Jordana into his office, handing her a tablet with a looping clip of a ninja Jordana had only seen before in passing. A woman caught on a security camera, likely about Agent Walker’s age, pretty despite the scowl on her face. She pulled her mask over her face, and it took losing sight of the woman’s entire face for Jordana to start recognizing her.

“Do you know her?” Agent Walker asked, his face stern and arms crossed over his chest. “I… No,” Jordana said, shaking her head. “But I’ve seen her. With Sora and Arin.” Her mentor nodded, pursing his lips. “She’s your next target.” He started to turn away from Jordana to return to his game. “Do I get to know why?” Jordana halfheartedly called out, still looking at the streaks of blue in the woman’s hair.

“She says she’s my Yang,” he responded, and Jordana turned to him in shock. She had so many questions – What were you doing with her? But that felt unfair, given his apparent disposition. It was the first time she’d seen him defeated, slumped in the beanbag, not even bothering to pick up his controller.

The Yin/Yang promise had fallen out of practice, to Jordana’s understanding. It was a Ninjago custom, but after the Merge, some rituals simply ceased to be. At least Jordana thought some of them had. But if Jay had a Yang…

“You’re from Ninjago?” Jordana asked, quiet. Agent Walker glanced up at her. “I guess so.” “You guess?”

He sounded sad. Jordana didn’t know what she was supposed to do other than watch and maybe awkwardly offer to sit with him.

“I… I didn’t know where I came from.” He took a deep breath, exhaling shakily though he tried to laugh it off. “That’s why they put me in the Department of Reassignment, I guess. Bringing other people back home if I didn’t have one.”

Sometimes when Agent Walker stepped the wrong way, she’d watch him grab his shoulder or brace his back. Jordana first thought he might be older than she’d assumed, but after this… Who was Agent Walker, really?

“Do you know her name?” Jordana handed the tablet back to her mentor gently.

“Nya,” he responded, her name rolling off his tongue like water.

[samanthahirr]

The Quartermaster's Mission Holiday

The Quartermaster’s Mission Holiday

Another installment in the continuing series of “Stories Sam Isn’t Writing,” here’s a breezy outline for an alternating POV, 00Q meet-cute and romance set at James Bond’s home in Jamaica. This story takes place in an alternate timeline where Bond retired before Q became the new quartermaster. When M dispatches Q to Jamaica to recruit the former-agent back into MI6's service, a new kind of relationship develops.

Q’s POV: Six months after his promotion to Quartermaster, Q is summoned to a private meeting with M in her office. He assumes she’s going to request a mission-status update for 009, but instead M has a top-secret mission assignment for Q. She’s sending him to Jamaica to get in touch with the former 007, who retired from MI6 a couple years ago, and disappeared without a trace. James Bond’s reputation is legendary; Q has heard plenty of stories about Bond’s lethal exploits and incorrigible charm. And now M says it’s up to Q to convince Bond to return to the service; MI6 needs him back as 007.

This is a ludicrous task for Q—convincing a complete stranger to return to the agency he walked away from years ago! Nevertheless, M insists. She reassures Q that Bond has always had respect for his quartermasters. Her mouth turns up in a private smile. “He likes smart. And you’re the smartest employee I’ve got.” Given no choice in the matter, Q is promptly packed off to Bond’s location—a location so secret that only M knows it, and which Q is forbidden from sharing with anyone—with a promise that M will contact Bond to forewarn him of Q’s coming. 

Bond’s POV: Bond gets a phone call from M informing him she’s calling in an old favor. Bond says, “You don’t have any left.” She laughs, “I still have an infinite number of favors, considering I’m single-handedly keeping the tax office from sniffing out your years of gambling winnings.” Bond snarls with begrudged fondness. 

M tells Bond that her new quartermaster’s identity has been compromised by an enemy faction, and she’s intercepted word of a hit out on him. She’s sending Q off the grid—to Bond—for protection while she eliminates the source of the danger. Q will be covertly shadowed as far as Bond’s door, and then Q’s safety will be Bond’s responsibility. Bond acts pissed off, but he has been feeling restless lately. This mission should spice up the boredom.

Q’s POV: Bond is indeed expecting him when Q arrives at Bond’s waterfront cabin on a secluded, private beach in Jamaica, and Q’s reception goes better than he expected. (He was prepared for Bond to shut him out or threaten to shoot him.) Bond welcomes Q inside and gives him a tour of the small but scenic cabin. Bond isn’t unfriendly, but he lays out strict ground rules for staying in his home, including keeping away from the rear windows, never going more than 50 yards from the cabin alone, and drilling Q on the locations of all the spare guns, etc. 

Q assumes Bond is a paranoid veteran who’s going batty in retirement. Over beers on the dock that first evening, admiring the truly stunning sunset, Q bluntly informs Bond that he’s been sent to recruit Bond back to MI6. Bond scoffs, “No you haven’t.” Q assures Bond that M needs him back as 007. Bond corrects him that M says Q needs protection from an international hit. Q bursts out laughing. Bond assures him that M swears Q’s life is in danger, and Bond is meant to see to Q’s protection for the next short while. 

“That’s even more preposterous than my own mission,” Q marvels. “My god, I must really have been sent to recruit you back, if that’s the story she sold you.” Bond presses Q on his certainty. “I would know if my cover ID had been breached; I have alerts tracking that.” Q dips his toes in the water and sighs. “No, unless she’s lied to both of us, and there’s some secret, third reason for my trip, I’d say my version makes far more sense than yours. For all that my mission seems destined to disappoint her.” Q offers some scathing assessments of Bond’s lack of field readiness, disparages Bond’s fitness, etc. Bond is more than a bit bemused as he watches Q lay into him, recalling a similar conversation with a vivacious brunette 10 years prior.

Alternating POVs: Over the next few days, Bond insists on keeping Q within his sights at all times. They go out fishing on Bond’s yacht and spend time reading, walking the beach, and snorkeling. They discuss Bond’s last mission—the one that drove him to retire. Q makes a few earnest attempts to sell Bond on Q being a good quartermaster, extolling his own intelligence and the kinds of digital support he and his revamped branch offer to agents nowadays. (It would be an easier sell if he’d been permitted to bring any of his MI6 equipment with him. Or if Bond allowed WiFi at his home.) Bond seems to find Q’s earnestness endearing and amusing. And Q is frustrated by Bond’s lack of interest in all things MI6 and his continuing belief in a threat to Q’s life. 

Although, the more time Q spends enjoying the fresh air and sunshine and disturbing lack of technology, the more Q suspects Medical of whispering in M’s ear. He’s received more than a few cautioning lectures about burnout since his appointment as quartermaster, and yes he knows they have a valid point, but there’s simply too much work to do, getting the branch modernized and hiring staff with newer skill sets. The prospect of this “mission” being a mandatory holiday galls, but at the same time it’s putting his recent lack of a personal life into perspective. God knows, he hasn’t even had time to open Grindr since he took the job….

Q and Bond sleep together on day 3, and it's such a thoroughly satisfying experience for both of them that they continue to do so. The less they talk about threats to Q and the merits of MI6, the better they get along, until they start to actually enjoy one another’s company. Bond is surprised to realize that he was perhaps lonely prior to Q’s arrival.

On Day 5, mercenaries actually do come to assassinate Q. Bond kills them with a good deal more skill than Q had expected, living up to his legend and then some. Once the last man is dead, Bond reports the attack to M. Q hacks into the mercenaries’ phones and sends their recent money-transfer records to M. An hour later, M calls back that they’ve identified the mole in MI6 who sold Q out, and she has dispatched another double-0 to eliminate the mole’s foreign handler. Q asks whether it’s safe to return to MI6 now, and she says to give them a couple more days to establish a new cover identity for him. Q asks about his ‘mission’ to recruit Bond. She tells Q to disregard those orders and advises Q to relax: “Medical says you’re due a holiday.” All he can do is laugh at the irony.

Bond and Q dispose of the corpses in an illegal limestone quarry that Bond just so happens to know about, some ten miles inland. They have sex a few more times, including on Bond’s yacht. And now that the threat to Q has passed, Bond drives Q around the island to see the sights. Bond belatedly notices that, while his vigilance naturally ramped up once he took charge of Q’s security, Bond hasn’t truly let his guard down in the two years since he left the service. Always looking over his shoulder, always defensive. What kind of a retirement to civilian life was that?

After two more days, Bond drives Q to the airport, and they say their goodbyes. “Look me up if you’re ever in London,” Q says, and Bond laughs as though he can’t read the sincerity in Q’s eyes. Q nods his acceptance and returns to London well-rested and tanned and with many fond memories of Bond and his tropical paradise retreat. The combination of man and locale could almost have been heaven, if only Q’s cats had been there with him. And if he were allowed to set up a WiFi router.

A week later, Bond seals up his cabin on the cove and takes to the sea, his course set for the UK. He arrives at Q’s door with three suitcases and a saucy grin. He gives a stunned Q a kiss on the cheek in greeting and says, “After letting you crash at my home for a week, I’ve decided you should return the favor.” Q welcomes him in, looks at his three suitcases, and asks, “How long are you planning to stay?” Bond checks around Q’s cottage, confirms there’s no sign of a partner in Q’s life, and pulls Q into a proper kiss, the kind he’s been missing ever since Q left Jamaica. “However long it takes MI6 to find me a new flat.” Q is stunned. “What…you’re back at MI6?” “You were very convincing, Quartermaster.” Q grabs Bond and kisses him passionately. 

The End.

[bludelivers]

I think this is called a debrief? Someone mentioned we need to liaise with the field agents, specifically the 00s who are out in the field. For some reason this is done in the National Gallery (someone called Queue came up with this?). So, I had a wander yesterday to check in on them. It seems that almost everyone is accounted for except two agents, 006 and 008 (but I was told they tend to ignore communications...).

Let's see.

001 present and accounted for. It's a lovely painting.

Does 002 have a particular fondness for gothic architecture?? (Because I do, pls call me)

003 here as well and making me crave a seaside holiday...

004's meeting painting was a surprisingly small one, but boy does it make you feel things about ruins.

005 was a pleasure, mostly because it's one of *my* favourite paintings.

006 has gone dark (of course... 🙄), but...

...007 was there, and honestly? She scares me a bit.

008 is apparently in Dublin, presumably visiting the pubs while everyone here was asleep.

And we round off with 009 and a serene landscape.

So, that's my job here done, time for a coffee 🫡

- Blu

------

Big thanks to anyawen for this headcanon post, which inspired me to visit these paintings in the National Gallery when I was in London for trans pride! It was so much fun, and gave me something to see beyond sitting among Turner's paintings, as I usually do.

(Annoyingly, I wanted to include The Fighting Temeraire here, but for the first time in my 10 years of going to see it, it's on loan to Newcastle, and so was replaced with another of Turner's paintings.)

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

Amanda Waller

Amanda Waller isn't a much-discussed character on Tumblr, but her reputation in the fandom isn't where it should be, and it's been somewhat worse after the Suicide Squad movies and Peacemaker. You need to read Yale/Ostrander's Suicide Squad to understand her character. Waller is also decent in the Justice League Unlimited cartoon. So many people just know her through cruddy two-dimensional portrayals! They want her to be a "Karen", they want her to be a shrill uppity bitch who gets put down into her place. She is an asshole, and a bit of a ruthless monster—her superiors and her agents are all much much worse. She lives in a world overflowing with serial killers and supernatural beings that can destroy major cities in 5 minutes. She was an impoverished Black mother with no college degree, and in middle age she clawed her way up through education and bureaucracy after her children were SA'd and murdered. She has done horrible terrible things, she dehumanizes and extorts and power-trips and tortures and kills. And yet at times she's been the only one standing in the way of war and destruction of colonized countries. She is stubbon and proud, and capable of shame.

John

This fella is Fascinating. just trust me on this he deserves to be here

He tried so hard to do the right thing, he feels bad and says things would be better if he was never born. He thinks he should've just stayed acting like a monster and continued to act threatening.

(LONG PROPAGANDA INCOMING)

John. Milgram. Here's a short description of the fortunes and misfortunes of the guy. It gets worse before it gets better (probably).

While MILGRAM is a prison that judges a bunch of sympathetic killers, it doesn't consider him to be one – it didn't even exactly know he existed until too little too late, when it got its grabby hands on the brain of prisoner 009, who claimed to not know anything about any murder he'd have committed. Then, footage from his brain was extracted, as MILGRAM does, into a music video, and… that was MeMe. Ninth prisoner, Kayano Mikoto, was revealed to have DID, and what obviously who do you think actually Killed Someone?

Enter John. Well. Mikoto is half deeply unaware half subconsciously scared of his existence, so the MV painted him in a rather. Deeply disturbing way, bathing in bloody baths and all that (not a blood bath though! easy mistake). Adding to that him showing up in the first Voice Drama for five seconds to punch the "protagonist" and yell for a bit, and the result wasn't. Assuring. The fandom proceeded to treat him like a cardboard cutout and variously dunk on MILGRAM for having a cliché "evil" character w/ DID despite the overall well handling of complex characters.

Two years time skip: second season ending. We get to prisoner 009 again. The protagonist Finally gets to chat with John: and voila, he's admitting to the crime, he's apparently "killed a bunch of people because they annoyed him", which means, as he's saying, Mikoto has nothing to do with the crime at all! And he, as per the judging system, should be forgiven, right! Well, he's so full of shit. The music video immediately reveals how protective he feels of Mikoto (and well, he definitely doesn't rebuke That one), that the events of murder were somehow tied in to Mikoto's job at a black company, his continuous overworking and him being mentally on the brink of breaking; that any committed violence was For The Sake of Mikoto and that John feels deeply horrible for messing up his life in any way. By making himself into the image of a "monster" he's trying to make Mikoto look good in comparison and be forgiven and all. He also mentioned if Mikoto is voted innocent he's gonna try to go dormant since he's The Issue, right, and the audience/protagonist hates him, Right, and Mikoto Also Hates him, Right?

I'm underselling the sheer devotion of this guy tbh.

Yeah, the fandom results were kinda mixed on that one. Lots of people immediately started to love him dearly and kinda forgot any people were maimed or killed with baseball bats; lots also got sold on him "messing up Mikoto's life" and actually voted Mikoto innocent Specifically because of John's promise to eventually "disappear". There's more of the babygirlifying kind in the English side of the fandom that I've seen, to be fair. And that's around where we are!

[pickledpascal]

Secret Weapon

Chapter Four: The Thrill

Warnings: Gore, shootings, guns, violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

Secret Weapon Masterlist

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Seeing Silva in the flesh… It was unsettling. It had to be that blond hair. It was way too light, making him stand out. Ezra had to admit, for a villain Silva wasn’t the most discreet in the way he portrayed himself. Half the people Ezra went up against didn’t always have that… quality about them. There could be aspects about them that made them recognizable but none as stand-outish as Silva. 

Ezra and James stood in the cell with a guard, awaiting for M to appear. Sure enough, the sliding doors off to the side of them opened up to reveal M with Tanner behind her. The man of the hour was encased in a glass box, illuminated brightly from the lights inside. Silva sat in the cell, clad in a nicely pressed prison suit. While MI6 had quite the reputation of taking down some of the worst criminals in history, sometimes they liked to treat them nicely. A little too nicely if Ezra had anything to say about it. 

M took a breath, stopping as soon as Silva’s eyes caught hers. It was like she saw a ghost. Someone who came back from the dead. Ezra and James share a look before fixing their gaze on the man in the cell. It’s a little too quiet, only sounds in the room being their light breaths and the far off buzzing of the lights. 

“You’re smaller than I remember.” Silva spoke first. His voice came through from a speaker, his disembodied voice echoed throughout the small chamber they were in. An enclosure Ezra knew he would despise being in if he were in Silva’s position but Ezra wasn’t the man trying to kill the head of MI6…

M cut back, voice clipped. “Whereas I barely remember you at all.” Oh, no. Ezra could tell she did. Perhaps she remembered him a little too well.

“Strange.” Silva hummed. “For me, it feels just like yesterday.” Then, a smile made its way to the edges of his lips. A creepy one. Perhaps a bit excited for his situation. “Are you surprised?”

“Not particularly. But then, you always were a slippery one.” M admitted, eyes trained on Silva to catch every last move he made. She hadn’t been in the field in a while but her observational skills never suffered.

Silva let out a huff, a laugh. “Maybe that’s why you liked me so much.”

“You flatter yourself.” M hissed.

Silva nodded slightly, tilting his head to look at the pair of agents off to the side of M. “Right. Because they’re your favorites now, aren’t they? Hm? Especially that tall one. I can imagine why.” His eyes raked across Ezra’s form, a dangerously flirtatious glint in his eyes as he stared. It made the agent uncomfortable but he didn’t let it show. James’ gaze hardened at Silva. Being built to kill only enhanced his protective tendencies. “... They kept me for five months in a room with no air. They tortured me, and I protected your secrets, I protected you. But they made me suffer… and suffer… and suffer.” Ezra cocked an eyebrow. Been there, done that. “Until I realized it was you who betrayed me. You betrayed me. So, I had only one thing left: my cyanide capsule. In my back left molar. You remember, right?” MI6 didn’t do things like that anymore. If an agent was killed, then he was killed. There weren’t many cases of kidnapping agents for information anymore. “So I broke the tooth and bit into the capsule. It burned all my insides. But I didn’t die.” He let out a light laugh, shaking his head. “Life clung to me like a disease… And then I understood why I had survived… I needed to look in your eyes one last time.”

M tried her best to not show any emotion. Even if Ezra could tell there was a storm brewing inside her. “Well, I hope it was worth it.” She said simply before she continued, “Mr. Silva, you are going to be transferred to Belmarsh prison where you’ll be remanded in custody until the Crown Prosecution Service deem you fit to stand trial for–”

“Say my name.” Silva interrupted, the sudden change in his emotion surprised M but she quickly composed herself. “Say it. My real name. I know you remember it.”

M narrowed her eyes momentarily. “Your name is on the memorial wall of the very building you attacked. I will have it struck off. Soon, your past will be as nonexistent as your future. I’ll never see you again.” She turned to leave and almost did until…

“Do you know what it does to you? Hydrogen Cyanide?” Silva narrowed his eyes, raising his voice to catch M’s attention. With a glare, he reached into the depths of his own mouth and with a loud, scraping crack, he removed his upper palate. A prosthetic implant that showed the disgusting row of broken, spiked teeth and burned tissue on his face. With a grin, he looked at M. “Look upon your work, mother.”

M watched. The only part of her that showed the horror she was feeling were her eyes. Silva could tell as he looked into them. M quickly turned on her heels and left the room, the agents and Tanner followed her. They walked back to the main corridor of the bunker, M turned all business-like.

“Let me know what you recover from his computer. Has he transmitted the list? If so, to whom? I want this resolved.” M said as they walked, glancing from Tanner to James.

James nodded passively, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Tanner is about to leave with M before she stops him, turning to the two agents. “His name is Tiago Rodriguez. He was a brilliant agent but he started operating beyond his brief, hacking the Chinese. The hand-over was coming up and they were on to him so I gave him up. I got six agents back in return and a peaceful transition.” There’s not much more to say. A reasonable act, even if it possibly cost the life of another. 

“We should go, ma’am. Board of Inquiry begins in thirty minutes.” Tanner reminded M, a slightly concerned look in his eyes. His entire job was being the assistant to the head of MI6.

M nodded, looking at Bond and Wayne again. “I want to know what’s on that computer.” She said again before she followed Tanner out of the bunker. 

The pair watch her for a moment. Ezra then turned to James and pursed his lips, “Time to see if that brain still works, eh?” He joked softly. 

They were a bit tense after James was saved from Silva’s island. The man did reveal the reason Ezra was there. Not exactly to be James’ partner but to watch over him, make sure he didn’t die. James didn’t take well to being watched like a hawk. Never did. That’s why he barely had any partners on missions and usually M would respect his choice. Not this time, it seemed… Ezra and James walk to Q’s new headquarters. Alix could feel the tension as soon as they entered the room but they had a feeling the agents would work it out. 

“I don’t blame you. Not really.” James admitted in a murmur, looking up at Ezra. His words surprised the dark-haired man. “You’re quite the agent. I just think you didn’t… have to be pulled back into all this because of me.”

Ezra tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as a light smile formed on his face. “You’re blaming yourself. Not a good look, 007.” He playfully nudged James with his shoulder. He understood, though. Agents had a complex. They were confident and charming until it came to someone they loved. Then, they blamed themselves. “You haven’t forced me to do anything I didn’t want. Quite the opposite really.” He hummed with a wink. 

James bit the inside of his cheek, refraining himself from smiling. It was hard not to. 

“Quit the flirting, will you?” Q shook his head as he looked down at his computer. Alix was typing away as well as a whole team that was trying to get through Silva’s computer. They sat near Q. Apparently Alix was almost on the same level as Q, just not as included with agents besides their father. 

“Now, looking at Silva’s computer, it seems to me he’s done a number of slightly unusual things… he’s established fail-safe protocols to wipe the memory if there’s any attempt to access certain files.” Alix explained, adjusting their glasses as they looked at their computer.

Q nodded with an affectionate smile as he listened to Alix. Perhaps there was another reason they were up there with him. If only Alix could see Q where Ezra was standing. “Only about six people in the world could program safeguards like that.” He continued for Alix. 

“Of course there are.” James hummed, watching Q carefully attaching cables and wires from Silva’s laptop to the MI6 computer systems. “Can you get past them?”

Q chuckled, “I invented them.” As soon as he’s done attaching the cables, the big screen in the middle of the room lit up and filled with data. “Right then… Let’s see what you’ve got for us, Mr. Silva.” The screen looked like it was filled with a spider-web, data entangled in all sorts of ways. Ezra knew he wasn’t cut out for the Q-Branch. Unlike Alix.

“Sir, what do you make of this?” Alix asked, glancing up at the big screen as the maze of data got even more confusing. 

“It’s his Omega site, most encrypted level he has… looks like obfuscated code to conceal it;s true purpose: security through obscurity.” Q narrowed his eyes for a second, hands clicking on his keyboard as he tried his best to decrypt it. 

James stared at the images. It certainly screamed Silva. Chaos with all the different lines and arrows and codes. His island was practically a big supercomputer with servers all over the place just to power it. Then the images change, rapidly with each try Q typed. 

Q’s tone became irritated. “He’s using a polymorphic engine to mutate the code… Whenever I try to gain access it changes. It’s like solving a Rubix cube that’s fighting back.” 

As numbers roll across the screen, Bond’s eyes catch onto something. “Stop.” He quickly said. It was calm but piqued the interest of Ezra and Q. The web stopped mutating now that Q wasn’t trying to get in. A tiny word is visible as James stared. “Granborough… Granborough Road. That’s an old tube stop on the Metropolitan line. Been closed for years. Use that as a key.”

Tapping a few keys, it finally orientated the images. It’s clear to see what it was meant to be. Other words and symbols are legible. “Oh, it’s a map…” Q realized.

“Subterranean London…” Ezra hummed. Then he blinked. Fuck him. 

A few clicks rang out, hatches in the floor unlocked and slowly flipped open. It confused the rest but it seemed Ezra and James had the same thing on their minds. “What’s going on? Why are the doors open?” Q asked just before the agents bolt from their positions.

“Silva…” Alix realized, eyes fixed on the place the agents once were.

Ezra and James ran to the corridor, stopping at the observation chamber when they realized the two guards at the chamber were down. Both necks broken. “Q, he’s gone.” James quickly said into his earpiece as he caught sight of a grate in the floor that was pulled aside. Silva’s escape plan. “Wayne, I need you to warn M. Go to her meeting if you have to.” He said, slightly out of breath before he started to climb down.

Seemed Ezra didn’t have much of a choice so he simply nodded. He ran back up the corridor. “Got both of us yet, Q?” He asked into his comm. He needed to get out. Perhaps get a car.

Q answered clearly, “Got both of your locations. Easier since you’re still in the bunker.” He joked softly.

“Glad to know you’re not panicking, Q.” Ezra sighed as he pushed past a few doors. Aggressively since he was still running. Agents and other operatives stared at him. Should they have been following him? Probably but it was 009. Whatever it was, he should have been able to get through it.

“Oh, I am. Jokes are just part of my coping mechanism.” Q admitted.

As Ezra made his way to the surface, he heard Q and James banter yet again. Something about the tube. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. Ezra can’t have a car, not yet. Running would work but that meant he had to run halfway across London just to get to M. He hoped he’d get there in time. He’d feel guilty, having M’s death on his hands. 

So he ran. Ezra pushed his legs as hard as they could go, feet were sore after just a few minutes of running through the crowded city of London. They stared, not that Ezra had much time to look. 009 was back on the job and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to finish it. After all, he had a life to live. One that didn’t include London falling or his child out of a job. What kind of father would be if he let that happen? 

Desperation only made Ezra more furious. More motivated. To kill. 

Ezra arrived at the Whitehall Office, just a few moments after Silva it seemed. The security guards inside were freshly dead. The agent grabbed his gun, time to open fire. He quickly went down the hall, shooting stay goons as he arrived at the Board of Inquiry. Such a strange thing to see panic in a usually calm room. 

Silva quickly caught sight of Ezra, turning his fire on him but the agent quickly ducked behind one of the desks. The courtroom was a mess, shots getting fired in all directions. As discreetly as possible, Ezra made his way around the room only getting shot at twice. Silva missed both times. 

He wasn’t the best shot.

James burst in, adding to the line of fire from the cover of a doorway. 007 took a survey of the room as quickly as possible, looking for a distraction of some sort to get M out of there. He glanced at Ezra, winking at him. It took a moment for Ezra to register it but he quickly nodded. The pair pick a fire extinguisher to shoot and do so immediately–steaming white powder obscures their vision of Silva.

But it also obscures Silva’s sight of them.

Eve and Ezra make their way to the middle of the room for some cover fire, letting Tanner guide M out of the building. It seemed Silva had a similar idea because moments later, the offensive fire died down causing James to try and chase after him. Ezra did the same. 

As soon as the pair burst out of the building, they’re too late. Silva was in a police vehicle and drove away. But then… there’s another vehicle off to the side of the building. The agents share a simple look. 

Seemed they had the same idea.

Soon, M and Tanner emerge from the building. Tanner helped M into the car, trying to climb into the other door before the car shot off. He’s confused before he recognized the driver as James.

“007, 009, what the hell are we doing?” M demanded. Ezra looked at M through the rearview mirror. Neither of them answered. “Are you kidnapping me?”

Ezra tried, jokingly, “That would be one way of looking at it.”

Slightly skeptical, M looked out the window at all the chaos happening outside. EMTs were driving, screaming in the opposite direction. Toward the building. It wasn’t exactly hard to put together what the agents were doing. Smart, really.

“Too many people are dying because of me.” M sighed, parts of her walls were coming down. Though, not fully. They never would.

Bond looked at her in the rearview mirror. Their eyes met after a while. “If he wants you, he’s going to have to come and get you. We’ve been one step behind Silva from the start. It’s time to get out in front. Change the game.” The plan was slowly starting to form in his mind.

“And I’m to be the bait?” M simply asked. The pair nodded, surprised when she agreed. “Alright. Just us. No one else.” She wouldn’t have it any other way. The two agents she trusted most with her life.

It couldn’t go wrong. Could it?

Then Ezra pressed a button on the dash of the car. A comms system. “Q… We need help.” The man said, glancing at the man next to him. 

“I’m tracking the car, where are you going?” Oh, Q. He was always the voice of logic. Well, they didn’t exactly need to tell him that at the moment. He’d see.

James spoke up next. “We got M. We’re about to disappear.”

“What?” Two voices this time. Ezra could tell who the second one was. Alix. God, they were so clueless sometimes. They probably got it from him, to be honest.

Slightly amused by the inclusion of Alix, James let out a chuckle. “I need you to lay a trail of breadcrumbs impossible to follow for anyone except Silva. Think you can do it?” Right, back to business. 

“I’m guessing this isn’t strictly official?” Alix asked over the comms, quieter.

Ezra admitted softly, “Not even remotely.”

“So much for my promising career in espionage…” Q’s voice was farther away. Ezra could imagine his disappointed expression already.

—--

M, James, and Ezra stand at a series of different storage units, the car behind them. Ezra looked around at the different units, he had one here too…. The agent walked around to try and remember where it was. M watched as James fiddled with a lock on one of the doors. “Well, I’m not hiding in there if that’s your plan.” She said with a light scoff.

“We’re changing vehicles. Trouble with company cars is they have trackers.” Bond said matter-of-factly as he pulled the door up. It revealed a 1964 Aston Martin DB-5 in a light gray, almost silver color. His favorite gadget.

M let out a light laugh, “Oh and I suppose that’s completely inconspicuous.” 

“Where’s Ezra?” James changed the subject, looking around outside the unit until the agent appeared seemingly out of nowhere with a few guns in hand. 

Ezra went to the DB-5’s trunk. “Wherever we’re going, I have a feeling we’re going to need to stock up, hm?” He popped the trunk open, throwing the guns in the trunk. 

James smiled. He liked the way Ezra thought. Preparedness was not Bond’s forte. With a kiss to his cheek, Bond ran over to Ezra’s storage unit. He took a few more bigger guns before he pulled the door down. The trunk was filled with quite a few guns and other gadgets once Ezra closed the trunk. The pair got in, M sat in the back as the DB-5 roared to life out of the lock up.

They’re on the outskirts of London already and Ezra leans into the passenger seat. Might as well try to get comfortable, he could tell they’d be there for a while.

“It’s not very comfortable, is it?” M hummed as he looked around inside the car. One would have thought she would feel at home in the car, it was about as old as she was. 

James flicked up the cover on the stick shift to reveal three buttons. Ejector seats. One for the driver, another for the passenger, and the last for the backseats. “Are you going to complain the whole way?” He’s slightly irritated but there’s a light affectionate glint in his eyes.

“Oh, go on then. Eject me. See if I care.” M crossed her arms, her shawl moving with her.

Soon, they’re not in London anymore. City was far behind them, only the rolling hills of the countryside started to fill their vision. 

M spoke up again, “So where are we going?”

“Back in time. Somewhere we’ll have the advantage.” James answered. Surprisingly cryptic for someone who liked straight-forward things.

Suddenly it clicked for Ezra. James hadn’t had much of a life before MI6. But there was one thing. Skyfall. His home. 

They were going home. 

Hours later, it was midnight and M was fast asleep in the back seat. Ezra turned his head to focus on the road, then he glanced at James. “Are you sure about this?” There wasn’t much going back now, even if James wanted to. “I can handle it from here.” Ezra whispered.

Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, James shook his head. He knew Ezra could handle this alone. Far more gracefully than he ever could. But he needed to prove to himself that he could do this again. Be the tool that kills the machine. “I know, darling. But I need to see it through. For my own sake.” James admitted softly. 

Admitting his own faults to Ezra came easy to him. Far too easy than he thought it would ever be with anyone… Besides Vesper. 

He never thought love would come to him again. Not like this. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think of her. Until Ezra Wayne inserted himself into his life. At the beginning, Vesper was on his mind all the time but then she was slowly washed away like the waves outside his windows. Bond didn’t forget her. No. But existing with the guilt of her death became easier when the dark-haired man would smile or laugh or if James would get the rare chance to see him shirtless.

Well, the only time James did see Ezra was purposeful. The taller man had left his bathroom door open by accident and James took a peek inside. Ezra was preparing for a shower, steam covered the mirror in front of him and he turned slightly. Two adjacent scars stood underneath Ezra’s pectorals among lines of different tattoo lines running down his arms and torso. 

James just hoped he could live another day to see the rest of his body.

[theplottdump]

𝘈 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬! Exactly what Poppy needed- and definitely not just a sly excuse to force a little alone time between her favorite Agent and her favorite Agent's nerdy lab crush. (🎵)

Of course, Pops told herself she had total faith in Vera. But this late in the spinoff 009 was frighteningly close to locking the both of them in a 1x2 broom closet and switching off the breaker til one of them came. … 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩!? 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩?

So instead, as a grand act of her grace and patience, she settled for sauntering up to the bar, slipping between a set of bar stools, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 enjoying her first eyeful of the bartender, and placing her usual drink order.

Poppy: Cosmopolitan. Shaken. With a twist.

Dani: Not from around here are you. Poppy: 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭- Dani: No, no. That wasn't a question. Just making an observation. Poppy: 𝗖𝘂𝘁𝗲. Dani: Thanks for noticing.

Poppy: Ok then, 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻. Tell me, how exactly did an Oasis Springs 8 wind up as a Dusty Nowhere 12, working the floor of an old beer barn? Dani: That's a pretty big assumption. Poppy: Oh babe, I'm not assuming. I'm 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Dani: 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆? You got some evidence to back up that compliment? Poppy: You've got the look of someone who's spent years tryin' to blend in with the landscape but you just can't help but stand out. Dani: I bet you use that line on all your nonbinary bartenders.

Poppy: And I recognize your ink- local artist, a little shop downtown near the Rattlesnake.

Dani: Then you're from the Springs too? Damn, small world. 𝗜'𝗺 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗶. Poppy: 𝗣𝗼𝗽𝗽𝘆.

Dani: Well then 𝙋𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙮, hot tip- if you're looking to blend in you might wanna order a beer instead. Poppy: I'm sorry, do I look like someone who's ever spent a second of my life trying to blend in?

Dani: 𝗣𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻. One Oasis Springs Cosmo comin' up- Don't have any fresh orange on hand at the moment so we'll have to save the twist for later.

Anything else?

Poppy: 𝗧𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗹.

Dani: 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳? The previous owner used it to raise morale and keep the number of bar fights down. It's just a dumb carnival game. Poppy: Thing is Dani- I am 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 at dumb carnival games.

Dani: Well it's free to ride, so knock yourself out. Poppy: Oh- I will.

Thank you @fallincloversims for loaning me your Dani for this scene!

[ask-dr-zor]

Transcript of Z-Comms Recording 11302023-009

Aka private meeting in Doctor Zor's office. Parties involved: Doctor Zor (@ask-dr-zor) and Commander Solaris (@ask-dr-zor)

SOLARIS: "What is it you want to chat about, Doctor?"

[Zor slide some files over to Solaris. Solaris opens them up. Her eyes widen in surprise.]

ZOR: "This. You were clearly instructed to not kill the agent, and you attempted anyways."

SOLARIS: "But Doctor-"

ZOR: "Your retirement will take affect at the end of the year. And you will accept it if you want it to go smoothly. Do I make myself clear?"

SOLARIS: "...Yes."

ZOR: "Good. You are dismissed."

[END OF TRANSCRIPT]

[tightsweatyclothes]

The government mandates a new level of protection for its female agents: a padded gag and padded bulletproof catsuit to be worn at all times.  Agent 003 is shown here after a mission, desperately in need of the toilet, a warm bath and a good meal.  Unfortunately, all she can do is stew and itch in her own sweat and piss, waiting for the suit's cleanup technology to disinfect it and release it as a fine spray which makes the whole area stink.  She claws at the locks keeping the gag and suit firmly stuck to her skin, and the shock collar punishes her for it.  She growls into the gag in frustration, picks at the collar once more, is shocked with a jolt of pain once more. The tickling droplets of sweat refuse to evaporate, and the urge to urinate is worse than ever.  It will be a long night, and she is scheduled an hour of leashed treadmill jogging before she is allowed back into her padded cage to sleep.  Despite her exhaustion from the mission, she leashes herself to the machine, following its pace, making sure not to make the leash taut.  Beside her Agents 007 and 009 are doing their own scheduled exercises, and they share a look of misery before forcing themselves to keep up with the jogging pace of the treadmill.