Orbis Non Sufficit

The World Is Not Enough

Bond, James Bond

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May 27th, 2010

Apres-Escape [RP for [info]foreverbondgirl]

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Bond and the girl had attracted a great deal of strange looks and disdainful stares from the other resort patrons in the lobby. Of course, even Bond had to concede that they had earned them, strolling into the front door of the highest-rated hotel in the ski resort town of Courmayeur looking bedraggled, roughed-up and as though before being through a wringer he and Mia had dressed for more temperate climes. They had, naturally, and the Union Corse kidnappers from whom they had recently escaped had not thought to provide them with warmer clothes.

Still and all, Mia and Bond were relatively unscathed for having exited the small propeller-driven airplane without benefit of parachute. And once the front desk had received confirmation of Bond's Transworld Consortium expense account, their disheveled state became a complete non-issue for the staff. He and Mia were immediately treated with kid gloves and shown to the most lushly-appointed and most secluded private chalet of the hotel.

Locking the door and taking a long minute to stare out of the window to ensure that they need not expect unwelcome visitors any time soon, Bond felt the rush of adrenaline that violence always brought begin to ebb. For a moment, he cursed it as it faded away like a drug addict cursing the end of a high. Forcing back such thoughts, he turned casually toward the opulent living room.

"You're sure you're all right, Mia?"

November 26th, 2009

Auld Acquaintance ((RP for [info]foreverbondgirl))

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Bond had been down this selfsame road before. Then, it had been a different time and a different world-- one with a clear-cut adversary whose aims were evil and destructive but specific and more concrete, and for the most part it was one that played by more traditional rules of engagement. The girl had been a Russian cypher clerk, and the story that MI-6 had been given was that she had somehow fallen in love with Bond after seeing a file photograph. So smitten was the young woman with the image and reputation of the dashing British secret agent, she was willing to defect with a special codebreaking device in tow. As it had turned out, the story had been a ruse and the cypher clerk the kind of trap that had once been called in intelligence circles a "honeypot". SPECTRE's machinations had been ruined, the codebreaker had passed into Western hands and the girl had made for an especially enjoyable week or two between Istanbul and Paris and back.

Despite things having generally worked out for the best, the whole affair had left Bond with a finely honed mistrust of any situation that seemed too good to be true. While for most people, such incidents would probably turn out badly. For James Bond, things were always dangerous at best, and so "too good to be true" was likely to turn deadly.

It was with such a dubious outlook that Bond was treating his current predicament. The message had not come in through official channels, but instead had been passed to him by a friend of a friend, both of whom had done some "consulting work" for Bond in the past, making them at least partially trustworthy. But somehow, Bond had decided that it was still worth investigating. He was in-between missions, his least favoured time, which also likely influenced his decision to set up the meeting.

The girl had made the request, but had allowed Bond to set the date, time and place, indicating for all intents and purposes that she trusted him completely. Again, Bond had his doubts, but he made the arrangements anyway. He waited for her in the back booth of a pub not too terribly far from his own apartments. Both the freezing cold martini and the weight of the Walther behind his hip made for reassuring reminders that no matter what the girl had to say, it would be nothing James Bond could not handle.
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