|Bond, James Bond (orbisnonsuficit) wrote,|
@ 2008-09-04 11:35:00
|Entry tags:||dr. no, film by film|
OOC: The mun recently received the awesome gift of the James Bond Ultimate Collector's Edition box set-- all 21 official Bond films to date. We're working our way through them, one by one. I had the idea to illustrate one scene or moment in each film through Bond's eyes, using whatever prompt I find that serve. I'll try to do one as we complete each new film, starting from the first.
Film: Dr. No, 1962
The four or five thousand volts of electricity I'd taken from the vent grille should have been my first clue that the immediate future held very little in the way of comfort for me. But a little discomfort, even a little pain, was a pittance of a price to pay if the reward was going to be a swift and painful end for one Dr. Julius No, especially if it was at my hands. Pain would be what I got, and in spades.
Until then, most of the men I'd faced as adversaries now seem pedestrian and mundane, even though they were some of the most dangerous agents, assassins and power-mongers of the time. But Dr. No was more than just an enemy, he was a villain in every sense of the word. The gauntlet I faced escaping from that cell was nothing compared to what would be in store for the world if No had succeeded in successfully crashing the American space program.
Before being locked up, I'd been treated to a much more orthodox application of pain-- a beating at the hands of No's henchmen. I awoke in the tiny room, battered but intact. The cell measured less than seven feet on each side and about eight high, and contained only a cot and an impregnable metal door without mechanism. A large air grate was installed over the cot, so I climbed up and attempted to pull it free.
Pain lanced through my arms and into my chest, throwing me to the ground. Electrified. Using the rubber soles of the Chinese slippers No had provided, I battered the grate until it gave way. Clambering into the duct, I began the slow but steady crawl toward... well, I didn't know for certain, but anywhere was better than waiting to die. Besides, I wasn't simply escaping for my own safety. Somewhere on that island was a beautiful naïf by the name of Honey Rider who was utterly innocent in this fight. I was escaping to rescue Honey... or avenge her.
Soon, I became aware of the increasing temperature in the copper-coloured ducts. At first, I ascribed it to being closer to the bright Jamaican sun, but when the metal of the shaft became scalding, I knew it was something else entirely. I shrugged off the torn remains of the jacket I'd been given before the horribly civilised dinner that now seemed so many ages past and placed it under my knees, protecting my hands with strips torn from my under-shirt. Sweat sizzled each time a drop fell from my face to the metal duct, and I knew I would not be able to avoid being badly burnt.
After what seemed like miles, I attempted to climb down a vertical shaft, and ended up falling, crashing to the metal duct below. A roar sounded, deafening in the enclosed space. At first, I expected fire. Instead, the roar turned into the gurgling din of rushing water. Without care for the still-burning hot metal below me, I held my breath and flattened my body, trying to keep from being swept away. The water was near boiling-- these shafts had to have been for the wastewater of Dr. No's nuclear reactor, meaning my cell had been meant to flood and serve as my execution chambre.
At last, the water subsided, having the unexpected benefit of cooling the duct's metal surface to something tolerable, for the moment. I hurried and reached the end. Not knowing and not caring where I would emerge, only being desperate to get the hell out of that place, I turned and kicked against the surely electrified grate and finally fell out of the duct.
A long and arduous exit, to be sure, but when I left that island, Honey was safe, and Dr. No was not only defeated, but sentenced to the same death he'd intended for me, in the water surrounding his exploding reactor. It was worth it.