007: Complete Idiot

You are a British super-spy and a master of disguise. You are part of a British spy organisation named MI6, led by an old woman named M. The world always has a supervillain at large, with a giant base that you must infiltrate to defeat them. It's early morning. You've been negging Moneypenny at MI6 headquarters for about three hours, but now M has a new mission to give you before you can go down to see Q for some fancy gadgets. Then you're off to your spy car to fight supercrime. "007," she radios into your ear via your secret ear mirror. "Get up here at once. I have all kinds of missions for you." You arrive at M's office. She's an old lady, but she's the director of the most powerful spy organisation in the world. "Sit down, 007," she commands. You sit down. "007, I have a very important mission for you." "Yes, M? What is it?" "Our intelligence has just informed us of a new supervillain in town." "Oh lordy, no!" you exclaim. "It's Dr. No." M states. "But he's... he's dead!" "He's alive in the '60s," M says. "But he's... he's a..." "He's a what?" M asks. "He's a..." "He's a what, 007?" "He's a b... b... bastard!" you exclaim. "That's right, 007. He's a bastard. And he's planning on doing something with his giant underwater base. We need you to go into his giant underwater base and stop him." "Do you think Q will have some flippers for me?" you ask. "No, 007," M says. "Q has been fired." "Oh. Well, shit." "Yes. Shit. Now, go to the medical bay and get yourself an injection." "What's it for?" you ask. "It's a booster shot. It will protect you from sharks." "It wouldn't be the first time someone's tried to take a bite out of me!" you exclaim. "I... I don't think I want to know," M says. Your face falls, and you walk sadly down the stairwell to the medical bay. You arrive at the medical bay, and a pretty nurse smiles at you. "Hello! What can I do for you?" she asks. "I need a shot." "Okay! Which one?" "Er, the anti-shark shot. Apparently I'm the tastiest fish in the sea!" you jape. "Oh! Okay!" she says, smiling at you. She takes a needle, and injects you in the arm with it. "There! All done!" she smiles. "Thanks," you say, smiling back. You head back to M's office. "M!" you exclaim, peeking into her office. "I'm all shot up!" "Good," she says. "Now, go to Jamaica." M hands you a plane ticket and a passport. You look over the passport. The passport is for Jamaica, and it's made out to... you. "Erm... M?" you say. "Yes?" she asks. "This is a passport for me." "Yes." "They'll all know who I am, M. I'm a spy, they'll know who I am." "No, they won't," M says. "You're an accountant from London. You're going to go to Dr. No's base and investigate the books. You'll be undercover." "Will I get a disguise?" "Yes," M says. "You'll get a disguise." "Good, because they'll all know who I am. I'm a spy, they'll know who I am." You stride back out of M's office, tittering. "Now where was the Disguise Department?" "I think it's this way," M says, leading you to a door. You walk through the door, and find yourself in a maze. You say "Oh, God, not another bloody maze." The walls of the maze are moving. "Quick, follow me," Q says. You follow Q. The walls of the maze move to stop you. You reach an intersection. "Which way?" you ask. "Left," Q says. You follow Q. The walls of the maze move to stop you. You reach an intersection. "Which way?" you ask. "Right," Q says. You follow Q. The walls of the maze move to stop you. You reach a dead end. "Oh, bugger," Q says. The walls close in, and crush you and Q to death. You blink and gasp. You find yourself back in M's office, pressing your face into a wall. "Christ," you sigh, stepping back. "These 1960s shark injections are awful." "Yes," M says. "I think we need to go back to the '50s." "Ha, it wouldn't be the first time I've been inside 50s!" you chuckle desperately, realising that was the worst joke ever told. M glares at you, stony-faced. "Well, ahem, that's everything," M churns. "I've given you a Walther PPK, a first-aid kit, a bottle of cyanide, a pack of condoms and a lint roller." "Sick! I can have a party." "You're a disgusting pervert," M says. "I've also given you the plane ticket to Jamaica and the passport," she adds pointedly. "Well, erm, ahah, I suppose I should be off then?" "Yes," M says. "You should be off then." You walk out of M's office and find yourself in the MI6 armory. You walk out of the armory and find yourself in the MI6 gym. "Gah!" you grunt in consternation. "How do I get to the damned car? Moneypenny! Where are you? Where am I?" "I'm in the car park, honey," Moneypenny calls. "Come on out when you're ready." You walk out of the gym and find yourself in the MI6 car park. "Oh, thankyou, Moneypenny. I think that might be the first time I've been saved by a belle." "Well, perhaps next time I can savour your bell, James," Moneypenny cheesily teases. "Come on, let's go to Jamaica." You get into the passenger seat of your Aston Martin and fasten your seat belt. "Jamaica," you say. "Let's go." Moneypenny starts the engine and drives off towards Jamaica. "I've been thinking," you say. "Maybe I should change my name to something more regal." "Like what?" Moneypenny asks. "I dunno. How about James Royalty?" "That's awful," Moneypenny giggles. "How about King James?" "Perfect!" you laugh. "I'll be King James of Jamaica." "You'll be King of the Jerk-offs if you keep that name," Moneypenny laughs. "How about Prince Charming?" "Prince Charming! I like the sound of that." "You'll always be my Prince Charming," Moneypenny says, looking at you. You stare deep into her eyes and lean in for a kiss. Suddenly, a huge Belgian runs across the road, and you shout in terror as you barely swerve to miss it. You and Moneypenny laugh as you drive off towards Jamaica. Six months later, you alight at the Jamaican port of King James Royalty, disguised as an accountant. Moneypenny is on your arm, posing as your wife. Nobody will recognise you like this, you think. You walk off the port, and into Jamaica. "What's our plan?" you ask. "We need to find out where Dr. No is," Moneypenny says. "Hmm," you think. "I have a plan." "What's the plan?" "I got these condoms from M's office..." "What?" "And I was thinking we could go to a hotel and have wild, passionate sex." "What?!" "And while we're doing it, I'll take the opportunity to slip the condom off." Your mouth explodes in raucous laughter, launching your spittle all over. "Oh, God, Moneypenny! Could you imagine? No, look, Dr. No's base is underwater, I've heard." You walk up to a nearby pool that seems like it connects to the ocean, still giggling to yourself. "If we just slip one of these in..." you plop one of the condoms into the sea, "...and watch where it goes, it should tell us which direction the base is in." "You're a fucking idiot." "I'm a genius," you say, smiling. "Well, I'm not doing it." "I suppose it wouldn't be the first time I've left you high and dry!" you exclaim, expecting her to laugh. "You bastard." You mosey over to water's edge and kneel down. Peeling a condom from the pack, you drop it into the clear, green waves, and observe where it goes with fascination. "Well?" "I can't tell where it's going," you say. "It's just floating in the water." "Let me look." "No, no, I can do it." You stare at the floating prophylactic for a while longer, before realising that you're not going to be able to tell which direction it's heading. "God damn it, the base could be anywhere!" "Well, we need to find out where it's going. You're the spy, you tell me how." "I don't know," you say, exasperated. "We could try following it." "We don't have scuba gear." "I don't suppose you might consider going down there, Moneypenny? It wouldn't be the first time I've left you sopping wet." "Fuck you," she replies. "I'll take that as a no, then." You sigh, and stare at the floating prophylactic. "Fuck it, I don't know what to do." "I'll tell you what to do," she says, suddenly grabbing your shoulders and pushing you into the water. You fall with a yell, and hit the water with a smack. "I can't swim! I'm a God-damned accountant, woman!" "I don't give a shit," she says, and pulls off her clothes. "What the hell are you doing?" "I'm going in after it," she says, and dives into the water. You burble gratefully and reach for a nearby ladder. You grab the ladder and pull yourself out of the water. "Come on!" you yell. "I'm not getting back in there." You wait for a while, but she doesn't return. You sigh. "Maybe I can buy some cigarettes, at least?" You slap your sodden feet across the road to a tiny market of ramshackle stalls. You spot a newspaper stand and browse it. "Hey, look at this. There's a big article about us." You read the front page of the newspaper: "Oh, my God!" you say. "We're famous." You read the article: "Stormtroopers!" you gasp, horrified. You read on: "Sir, please!" You grab the nearest man and shake him by the shoulder. "You must tell me where— oh, it's you, Moneypenny." She slaps you wetly. "I found your stupid condom," she says, throwing it in your face. You pick it up and put it in your pocket. "Thanks. Now, where is this tiny island?" "Crab Key," she says. "It's a tiny island near Jamaica." "That's verbatim what this newspaper says. As usual, Moneypenny, we're both on the same page." "Oh, James," says Moneypenny, fluttering her eyelashes. "You always know what to say." This confuses you, but you give her a knowing smile anyway. "Anyway, I've been looking into this Crab Key place. Apparently, the whole island is owned by a rich recluse called Dr. No." "Yes, I've heard of him." "You have?" asks Moneypenny. "Yes," you say. "Dr. No is a well-known figure in the medical world. He discovered the cure for—" "No, no, no." "Yes!" "No, no, no," says Moneypenny. "Not that Dr. No. This Dr. No is a recluse who lives on Crab Key and has a reputation for being... a bit evil. He's a supervillain, a serious threat." "Ahh, I see. Well then, I won't take No for a chancer!" "What?" says Moneypenny. You sigh in despair. "Nothing... nothing." You can't believe she didn't get that one. "Anyway," she says, "Dr. No's a recluse, and doesn't like unannounced visitors, so you'll have to sneak past his guards and security systems to get inside." "Hmm," you say. "Sounds like a job for Q. He was fired from MI6, though, and we're in Jamaica." "I've been working on that, too," says Moneypenny. "Q's been living in a small house in London." "I knew it." "You did?" asks Moneypenny. "Of course I did," you say. "I'm not stupid." "Of course not, James," coos Moneypenny. "So, shall I go and get him?" "Yes," you say. "And while you're there, you can get me a coffee." "Of course, James," she smiles. You wave to Moneypenny as she swims away. You watch as she disappears into the distance, and then you turn to head towards Crab Key. You take in the vista between Crab Key and here. The water is crystal-clear, and you can see all the way to the sandy ocean floor. You see a reef community of fish and other sea creatures, as well as a sunken ship. You swim for about half an hour, and then you see a huge, dark rockface rise up from the ocean floor. It's jagged and sharp, like a giant spike. You bring out your map, realising too late that you're in the sea. The map is soaked through and unreadable. You try to remember everything you saw on the map before it got wet, but all you can remember is that there was a big rock. You bitterly try to toss the waterlogged map away, but it flops around in the breeze and tangles itself around your arms and face. You end up ripping it in two and tossing it into the water. You swim towards Crab Key, but you soon realise that you're not going to reach it today. You sigh, treading water. You search the skyline for anything you could sit on to take a rest. You see a long, flat rock sticking out of the water. It's far too small to be Crab Key, but it will do for a rest. You swim towards it and grab hold of it. You sit on it, sodden. You stare out at the horizon, watching the sun slowly setting over the ocean, and then you fall asleep. You wake up hours later, with a stiff neck and a crick in your back. You look around and see that it's pitch-black outside; you barely slept. "Uurgh," you burp. You are worryingly hungry. You pat your pockets and feel a lump of hardtack, a bar of chocolate, a bottle of water, your passport, a flashlight, a packet of cigarettes, a Zippo lighter and your wallet. You pour some water over the hardtack to try to soften it into tack before wolfing it down. It's not much, but it's enough to take the edge off your hunger. You clear your throat, sniff, and take a deep breath. You have to find this accursed island. You swim around, trying to find something, anything. You see an island in the distance. It's not Crab Key, but you're so hungry you decide to swim over to it. You swim over to the island and find that it's a barren rock. "Christ almighty." You climb onto the rock and put your head in your hands. You're lost at sea, and you're going to die. You can't even swim back to Crab Key. You're stranded here, on this tiny rock in the middle of the ocean. Then, you suddenly have an idea. You take your flashlight from your pocket, and try to force it under your clothing so that it stays in place. You turn it on and off a few times to test that it works, and slip back into the water. You swim around for a while, shining the flashlight around you. "There must be an island around here somewhere. There wouldn't be a sea without islands." You swim for a few hours, and eventually you see an island in the distance. You swim over to it, and find that it's not Crab Key. It's another barren rock. "Fuck!" You punch the water to death. After a few minutes of violent thrashing, you notice the sound of a small engine growling from behind you. You turn around, blinded as a boat's twin headlamps are activated. "Hello!" you shout, waving your arms in the air. The boat pulls over, and two men in scuba gear jump out. "What the fuck are you doing?" they shout with incredulity. "I'm lost at sea. I was trying to find Crab Key." "Jesus Christ. You're that guy, aren't you? The spy?" "Yes. Yes, I am. I need to get to Crab Key. It's an island near here." "It's not near here! It's on the other side of the port!" "What?" "The other side of the fucking port! Where you came from, mate!" "Oh, dear God. I need to get to that island." "You swam all the way out here from the port?" "Yes." "Jesus Christ. What a fucking idiot." You arrive, finally, on Crab Key, shivering and starving. The boatmen mutter to themselves sourly as they head back out to whatever business they had before you turned up. The Sun is beginning to rise, and the scene around you is beautiful, at least; a sarcastic commiseration. You trudge across the island, looking for any signs of life. Eventually, you stumble upon a large, abandoned house. You walk inside to find it empty, although it is caked in dust and dirt. Your exhausted system accepts the dirt as a reasonable place to rest after two days of aimless life-or-death swimming, and you pass out on the spot. You wake up to the sound of a slamming door. You groan and sit up, rubbing your eyes. "Hello?" you say. An old man walks out of a room. You groan anew. "Ohh-hhhh." "Ohh-hhhh indeed!" the man says. "What are you doing here?" "I'm James. I'm... an accountant." "An accountant? Those are the worst kind of people." "I'm lost. I was looking for an island, and I found this house. I've been swimming for days. I'm starving." "Oh, really? I'm Father William. I'm a priest." "Hello, Father William." "Hello, James." "I had to sleep, I'm... I'm so sorry." "I'm sure you had a very good reason to do so! Now, tell me: why are you here?" "I'm an accountant." "Yes. I know that. "Ah, I see what you mean." You struggle to your feet and try to regain some measure of your famous composure. "Well, I'm actually looking for a man named Dr. No. I've heard he definitely lives here somewhere, but can be rather hard to find." "You're a very funny man, James. But I'm afraid you won't find Dr. No here." "Oh, really? I'm sorry, Father William, I didn't mean to be disrespectful. I just thought you might know where he is." "I don't know where he is. Nobody knows where he is." "How does anybody know nobody knows where he is if nobody knows where he is?" "I don't know where he is. Nobody knows where he is. I'm not even sure if he exists." "Oh, he exists." "How do you know?" "You just told me five times that a man by his very specific, unusual name barely exists, therefore he definitely exists." "That doesn't make any sense. I'm not sure if you're a good accountant or not." "I'm an existential accountant," you pretend, heading for the dusty door. "I appreciate your hospitality, Mr. William... unless you might happen to have... anything to eat?" "I'm afraid not. But you're welcome to stay for dinner." You weigh your options cautiously. Your every sense and instinct demands that you stay here and get some food, but you'd probably have a less awful time swimming back to Q's house like Moneypenny. "I'll stay for dinner," you say, "but I must be on my way immediately afterwards." "Of course," says Father William. "Please, come in!" You follow him into the house, and find yourself in a large, open-plan kitchen-diner. "My, this is a departure from the rest of the house." "Oh, yes," says Father William. "I had it custom-built by a friend of mine. Do you like it?" "It's... very... yellow," you say, as you spot a packet of peanuts in the corner of your eye. You grab it and tear it open, shovelling peanuts into your mouth. "Yes, it is," says William. "I had a feng shui consultant come in and do it all up. I think it works quite well." "It certainly... works," you chomp, as William smiles. "I'm going to go and get changed. Make yourself at home!" Father William heads off upstairs, leaving you in the kitchen. You immediately sweep through the kitchen cupboards as fast as you can, desperate to find enough food to justify leaving early. You go through every cupboard, drawer and shelf you can see. You find a few packets of peanuts, some crackers, a tin of sardines and a bottle of wine. You search frantically for some kind of bag to put all this into. You open the nearest cupboard, and find it filled with plates, cups and bowls. You take a plate and dump the peanuts onto it, then grab a handful of crackers. You balance all your thieven foodstuffs on the plate and totter out the back door as quickly as you can. You head out into the garden. There's a large wooden shed in the corner of the garden, next to a clothesline. "Argh!" you cry under your breath, glancing around for some kind of exit you can use to escape. You spot a gap in the hedge, next to the wooden shed. You could try to squeeze through there and escape. Alternatively, you can head back inside and try to find another way out of the garden. You heroically pad across the garden into the hedge gap, trying to stay close to the walls. You keep moving, staying as quiet as you can. You reach the end of the hedge gap and find yourself in a narrow alleyway. You can see the street beyond, but there's no-one around. "I need to lose him completely. I need to find somewhere I can eat in peace!" You walk down the alleyway, heading for the street beyond. Suddenly, a car pulls up next to you. Two men in the front seat beckon you over. "Hey! Come here!" one of them calls. You glance around. You don't really have any choice but to obey. You walk up to the car and peer inside. The windows are blacked out, so it's impossible to see inside. "Who are you?" you ask. "Get in," the man replies. You look around. There's no-one else in sight. You get into the car. "Hello, Mr. Bond," the man says. "I'm Dr. No." Dr. No is in his late forties. He has a thin face, cold eyes, and slicked back hair. He's wearing a white tuxedo. "Do you know why I've brought you here?" "No!" "You're a heartless bastard, aren't you?" Dr. No says. "I'm going to put you in a cage with a man-eating shark." Even as you're dropping your food in surprise at having suddenly met No, you're gasping with laughter at his incredibly lucky choice of execution method. "I've heard you were the one who was a bastard, No. Training Nazis to destroy Jamaica?" You struggle to open the sardines. "Why?" Dr. No shrugs. "Revenge." "Revenge? You're a supervillain with an island and an army. You could have anything. Why revenge?" "I was a doctor in the German army. When the war ended, I was captured and sent to a prison camp. The guards were all Jamaicans. They treated me like an animal. They starved me, beat me, and humiliated me. When I finally got out, I was a broken man. All my life's work was destroyed. I had nothing left. So, I came here, and I built myself an army. Now, I'm going to destroy the country of Jamaica. And I'm going to start with this little island." "What do you want from me?" you demand, munching through the crackers. "I want you to watch the slaughter. I want you to see the Jamaicans die. I want you to suffer." "I'm going to stop you." Dr. No shrugs. "Perhaps. But not today, Mr. Bond. You're going to watch. And then, I'm going to kill you." Dr. No pulls out a remote control and presses a button. The doors lock, and the van begins to descend down a vertical tunnel. "You see, Mr. Bond. I'm going to drown you. But, not before you watch the slaughter of these people. While you're drowning, I want you to think of me — of how I'm going to kill your little island whore." "...Who?" you frown. "Your little island whore. Your girlfriend. That little bitch you're fucking." "I don't have a girlfriend." Dr. No chuckles. "Everyone has a girlfriend, Mr. Bond." "Hoh! Well, I must say, I didn't take No for a romancer!" Dr. No chuckles. "I'm not." "Then what are you talking about? I don't have a girlfriend!" Dr. No chuckles. "Everyone has a girlfriend, Mr. Bond. That's what I always say." "Oh, you mean like as a cover? I'm actually not seeing anyone at the moment." "No, no. I mean like a girlfriend. A girl. A woman. A female of the human species." You frown. "Are you talking about Moneypenny? She must be halfway across the Channel by now." "No, no. I'm not talking about Moneypenny. I'm talking about the girl. The one you're fucking." You frown again. "...Are you sure you don't have me mistaken for someone else, No? Are you quite alright?" Dr. No laughs. "I'm quite alright, Mr. Bond. But you're not." You stare at the metal door as it closes, leaving you in darkness. "What a weird man." You walk along the tunnel, and it gets narrower and narrower, until you can barely fit. You crawl along it, and eventually it opens up into a small room with a chair. "Ah." You sit in the chair, and it is quite comfortable. You put your hands on the armrests... but they aren't armrests. "What! Oh no!" Dr. No laughs. "Oh yes!" The chair is like a dentist's chair, but it isn't made to open your mouth and examine your teeth. It's made to open your mouth and examine your throat! "What are you doing, No! My throat is pristine!" Dr. No chuckles. "Not for long!" You feel a sharp pain in your throat, and you begin to choke. You try to scream, but you can't even breathe. Dr. No is a throat surgeon. He has a scalpel in his hands, and he's cutting your throat. Blood spurts out of your neck and onto his lab coat. You gurgle in agony, fishing in your pocket for your Zippo lighter. With that trademark Zippo flick, you open it to perfect satisfaction, every time, and use its flame to cauterise your throat wound. You fall out of the chair, and onto the floor. You crawl forward, coughing up blood. You're blind with pain, but you crawl forward anyway. "Where are you, No!" you scream, brandishing the lighter. "I'll burn you alive!" You crawl forward, but you don't get far. You feel a sharp pain in your back, and you scream as a poison dart goes into your spine. "Goodbye, Mr. Bond." You fall forward, and everything goes black... ...but then you open your eyes again. You're strapped to a table, this time, and you feel rather strange. Heavier, and slightly numb. You look down, and you see that your chest has been cut open. "Ah, you're awake," Dr. No says. "Good." You say "I... don't feel any pain. What's happening? What the hell are you doing to me, No?!" "I'm giving you a new lease on life, Mr. Bond. You see, I'm a man of the future. A better future. And you're going to help me get there. You've been the perfect test subject for my Reanimation Project. I've reanimated you, Bond! My life's work, realised at last!" "...Christ alive. I didn't take No for a necromancer." "I'm not a fucking necromancer, you moron! I've reanimated you through the power of SCIENCE!" You laugh. "You've cut my fucking throat open and sewn it back together! You're a fucking madman, No!" "I'm a visionary! A modern-day Da Vinci! I'm going to live forever, Bond! I've already lived a thousand years in the future, I've seen the world end and be reborn anew! I will see it end again! And again! And again! Until I have left this wretched planet and moved on to greater things! But you, Mr. Bond! You will help me! You will be my right hand! My new right hand!" "You're insane!" "Am I?" Dr. No picks up a scalpel. "Scream for me, Bond. Scream for me, and become my new right hand!" As Dr. No advances for the final cut, you suddenly raise a palm and look aside as if distracted. He hesitates, perplexed. "Hold... hold on one second, No." Your secret ear mirror is picking some kind of radio transmission. "Moneypenny? Moneypenny, is that you?" "Yes, it's me! And Q!" "We're here to rescue you, James!" Q declares from the background, barely audible through static. "What? How?" "I'll explain later. Just stall for time." "Got it." You try to peer down at your body to see what you're wearing. Maybe your items from before are still on you. "I'm going to rip out your spine and beat you to death with it, No." "Ha! I'd like to see you try!" You peer down at your body. You're wearing a white tuxedo. You look pretty snazzy. "I will, I will try. But I was just thinking... I had a packet of smokes in my pocket before. I don't suppose you'd allow me the pleasure of one last smoke? You know what it's like, having been a prisoner of war yourself." Dr. No considers this, then nods. "Very well." He gestures to his men, who light up a cigarette for you. You take a deep breath of smoke and exhale it with relief. You sigh gratefully. "Thankyou, No. Not the first time a nurse has taken pity on me." "I'm not a nurse, I'm a doctor!" You wink. "Of course you are." Dr. No's face twitches in annoyance. "You're trying my patience, spy." "I'm not a spy. I'm a British agent. There's a difference." "Not to me." You shrug. "Well, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." Dr. No turns to his men. "Torture him." They pick you up and take you to a table, where they strap you down. Your eyes dart around frantically. "Er, uh, No! There was a lint roller in my pocket earlier, and you know, I just can't be tortured unless I'm looking my very best! It wouldn't be gentlemanly!" Dr. No's eyes narrow. "What?" "The lint roller in my pocket!" Dr. No sighs, and gestures to his men to let you go. You stand up, and quickly take out the lint roller. "Thank you." You quickly roll it over your clothing, picking off all the bits of fluff and hair. "Now I'm ready for anything!" You wink at Dr. No, who twitches again in annoyance. You quickly take in what you can about the room and No's guardmen. You look around the room. The walls are solid concrete, with a single metal door. There are two guards in the room with you, both armed with pistols. You are unarmed. There is nothing else in the room. The guards stand still, looking straight ahead. They are both young, strong-looking men. You whisper under your breath, "Oh, come on, Moneypenny! Hurry!" You look around again. The guards have not moved. The room is practically silent. You hear a faint buzzing and Moneypenny's voice coming through in your ear mirror. "I'm in. I've locked onto your signal. Just keep calm and no one will suspect a thing." You take a deep breath, and try to relax. "What was that?" demands No, turning sharply. You turn. "I... I was talking to myself." "You were talking to someone else, Bond. I can see that stupid earpiece, you know. Now who were you talking to?" You look around. The guards are still standing still, but now they're staring at you. You can feel sweat running down your back. "I... I was just... singing. I do it all the time, just singing old songs to myself." "Singing? What were you singing, Mr. Bond?" "Er... I, er, I was singing I'm Your Boogieman by White Zombie. It seemed appropriate. You actually look a lot like the man in the video." "I see," says No, stroking his chin. "Well, I'm not sure that was appropriate." "Sorry," you say. You look around again. The guards are still staring at you. "Well, I suppose it could have been worse," says No. "Yes, I suppose," you chuckle nervously. "It could have been Witch Doctor by the Cartoons!" Dr. No's eyes bulge wide as he cringes in shock and pain. "...How dare you evoke the memory of that song. How DARE you, Bond!" His face transforms to declare the purest contempt. "You're a pig. That was your last chance. Guards, I want you to go to work on him, and make sure he can never utter such filth again!" You look at the guards. The guards are trembling, livid, glaring at you in stunned fury. "Come on, men!" shouts No. "Get him!" The guards raise their guns and point them at you. You dodge out of the way, and roll under a table. You grab a vial of acid, and throw it at the guards. It hits one in the face, and he screams. You grab a pipe and hit another one in the head with it. He falls to the floor. You grab his gun, and shoot at the other guards. You hit one in the chest, and he falls. You run over to him, grab his gun, and shoot the other guards. They fall to the ground, dead. You look around. No is gone. "No! Damn it." you shout. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bond," says No, appearing from behind a tree. "I thought I could run faster than you, but you proved me wrong." You retrieve your own Walther PPK from your suit pocket, and point both it and the guard's pistol toward the supervillain. "We've never raced, No." "No, we haven't. But I've heard about your college years. You were quite the runner, weren't you?" "You seem to know an awful lot about me. I'm flattered." "You're not the only one who can do research, Mr. Bond." "Call me James." "Very well... James. I'm afraid our time has come to an end." "I'm not done with you yet." "Yes, you are. You see, I've set this whole base to blow. You have three minutes left to live." "You're bluffing." "Am I? You know so little about me, Mr. Bond. But I know everything about you. Everything. I suggest you escape while you can. You have two minutes left to live." You look around. Nothing is happening around you. "One minute left, Mr. Bond. You're still alive. How about that?" You stand where you are, watching him blankly. "Thirty seconds left, Mr. Bond. You're still alive. Amazing." You stand in silence, waiting for the countdown to end. "Time's up, Mr. Bond. Well, I'll be seeing you in Hell. Or maybe in Heaven. I don't know which one you'll be going to." "Where do you think you'll be going, No?" "Hell, I suppose. I'm not a religious man, but I still believe in God. And I know that what I've done is wrong. I'll be punished for my sins. I suppose I deserve it." "I'm not a religious man either, No. But it seems to me that if you believe in God, then you are religious by definition." "I suppose so. I just don't believe in organized religion. Religion is the cause of most of the world's problems. It's why I'm doing what I'm doing." "What's that?" "I'm trying to save the world from religion. I'm trying to create a new world order. A world without religion." "How do you plan to do that? You're working for SPECTRE, a secret society that worships Satan." "I'm not a Satanist. I'm a scientist. I believe in science. I believe we will create a new world, a better world. A world without religion." "What about the space laser you were creating? What was that for?" "That? Oh, that was to deflect an asteroid that might've hit the Earth and wiped out all life. I don't think that's likely now, though." "Oh, good." "Yes. It would've been a terrible waste of my time and resources. I'm glad it won't be happening." "So, when's this base exploding?" "Oh, that's happening soon. In fact, you're here to help me." "I am?" "Yes. I need you to press that big, red button on the wall behind you." "This one?" "Yes. That one. Be careful, though. It'll blow up the base. It's a shame, really. I put a lot of work into it." "So, if I press this button, the base will explode?" "Yes. It'll be destroyed. I'm going to press a button of my own, and get out of here. I wish I could stay to see your face as the base explodes, but I don't want to die." "Right. So, I press this button, and the base explodes. Is there anything else I need to do?" "Yes. Pressing the button will do nothing. You need to activate the base's self-destruct, and set the countdown. That way, you'll have a few minutes to escape before the base explodes." "Okay. How do I do that?" "You need to turn on this computer, and use the mouse to access the program. Then, you can set the countdown." "Okay. Is there a password or anything? I hope it's not a ZX Spectrum, it'll take me five minutes to type it in." "Ha ha. No, it's nothing like that. Just turn on the computer and use the mouse to access the program." "Okay." Dr. No turns on the computer by himself, impatiently. You lean in toward the screen. "Which program is it?" "The one that says 'self-destruct'!" "Oh, right." "So, are you going to activate the program?" "No, of course not." "Why not?" "Because I'm going to activate this program instead." You activate the program named 'ZX Music Maker 3.1' and input the melody of Witch Doctor by the Cartoons in a single slick motion. You set the volume to 100, click 'Loop', and hit 'Play'. Dr. No clutches his ears and screams as though his soul is escaping his body. "No! No! The Cartoons?! Why, Bond?! Make it stop! Make it stop! Aaaaaaaargh! My ears! My fucking ears!" The music is so loud that it drowns out the sound of the helicopter that Moneypenny and Q are in, which has landed on the beach next to the island. Your secret ear mirror buzzes into life again, and you hear Moneypenny and Q screaming over the radio. "James! What is he doing to you in there?! The whole island is vibrating with Witch Doctor by the Cartoons! People are throwing themselves to their deaths from the rooftops! Dr. No is a fucking war criminal!" "I know, I know!" You run out of the room and see that the hallway is shaking. You see a guard, and he's dancing to the music. "Hey!" you shout. "Stop dancing!" The guard looks at you, opens his mouth, and screams in agony. "I can't! It's perverting my mind! I can't stop it! I can't keep it out!" he breaks down into a blubbering fit. You look at him. He's a big man, but he's terrified of the music. You feel your mind being perverted by the song as well, and you begin to shake. You say, "...I won't dance. I won't let this happen to me." You grit your teeth and close your eyes. You can feel the music trying to force you to dance, but you keep your cool. You feel the guard's hand upon your shoulder. "It's no use, man. We can't fight the music. Why don't you just dance with me?" "Get off me!" You jump back from the guard as if he's a giant spider and smash him in the jaw with your Walther PPK. He slumps to the ground. You run down the hall, looking for a way out of this nightmare. You see a door with a stair sign above it and run for it. You open the door and find yourself in a stairwell. You slam the door shut and hear the sound of the music getting quieter. You sigh with relief. "I'm free," you whisper. "I'm free." You hear a creaking noise and look up. A dark figure is looking down at you from the top of the stairwell. "Hello?" you call. The figure doesn't respond. "Hello?" you call again. The figure jumps off the top of the stairwell and lands in front of you with a thud. You scream and back away from the figure. "It's me!" the figure stands up and takes off their mask. It's the guard you just knocked out. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask. "Shhh! I'm trying to help you," he whispers. "By scaring the shit out of me?" you shout. "Listen," he says. "You saved me. I'm not completely whole, but..." He leers toward you, grinning mournfully. You can still see the music dancing in his eyes. "...But it could have been so much worse. So much worse for me." "What the hell are you talking about?" "You saved me from the music. That means I can't go back. But you have to. It's your song, after all." He's clearly gone insane, you think, but he seems to have your interests at heart. At least for now. "What should I do?" you ask. "You have to get out of here. Go to the surface. Find your friends. You'll know what to do when you get there." "But what about No's secret army? The stormtroopers? We have to save Jamaica!" "No, no, no!" the guard says. "You have to go to the surface. You'll never make it past the stormtroopers. They're all over the island. You'll never make it past them." "But Jamaica's in danger! We have to save it!" "Jamaica's dead, Bond. It was dead before you even arrived." "What?" "The island's dead. It's a giant tomb." "What are you talking about?" "Dr. No plans to destroy the island. He's going to sink it into the ocean. He's going to kill everyone and everything on it." "Why?" "Because he can." "God damn it. God damn you, No!" Your voice grows into a yell as you turn and stride selflessly back into the atrium, where you left No bathing in the soundwaves of Hell. You charge into the room, and No looks up at you through pleading tears. He's bent almost double, hopping and jerking uncontrollably to the tune of the song while wailing along in anguish. "Well," you smirk, "I must say, I never took No for a dancer!" You laugh, long and hard, as No's face twists in anger and shame. He screams, a high-pitched keen that curdles your blood. "You think this is funny?" he asks. "You think it's funny that I can't get this song out of my head?" "Yes!" you laugh, the corners of your own mouth beginning to twitch in pain. "It's hilarious!" "It's not funny at all," he says. "It's worse than the prison camp. It's the worst thing that's happened to me in a long, long time." You laugh again, and No's eyes narrow. He stares at you, his eyes boring into your skull as you begin to feel uncomfortable. "It's not funny at all," he repeats softly. Dr. No, inspired by a new depth of loathing for you, somehow reclaims enough self-control to lurch his body backward into the computer, toppling it and smashing it to the ground. He howls in pain as the speakers spark and blast out a discordant squeal of feedback that shatters every item of glass in the atrium — but the music is destroyed along with them. Shrieked orgasms chorus through the air and the sky above, as the guards and islanders are all at once relieved of their Ixionian abjection. The atrium guards stare around, dazed. "What happened?" murmurs one. "I don't know!" cries another, sobbing. "I don't know! I don't know! I DON'T KNOW!" he screams, a look of terror coming over his face. "I DON'T KNOW I DON'T KNOW I DON'T—" The first guard blinks and refocuses. His eyes become resolute and flick toward yours with disgust. "Yes," he says. "Yes, you do know." He shoots the second guard in the head, who collapses to the floor. "We do know," he says, turning to face you. "We all know." He thrusts his pistol into his own mouth and stoically blasts his skull apart without hesitation. The guards around you begin to fire aimlessly, and you roll behind a desk as bullets whizz by. You see the door, only a few feet away. Dr. No's voice raises above the gunfire. "You've killed us all, Mr. Bond," he declares. "You've killed us all." "We know! We know!" the guards chant. "We all know!" You roll to the side, as a bullet shatters the desk you were just behind. You grab the door handle, and pull it open. "You'll never escape, Bond! There's no escape! Jamaica is doomed!" You wrest yourself through the door and flee down a narrow metallic corridor, chased by the echoes of No's maniacal laughter. "Doomed! Doomed! Doomed!" You slam the door shut, and lock it. You hear a heavy thud as something slams into it from the other side. You look around the hallway. It's empty, except for a few doors that you can see. You can hear the guards' gunfire getting louder, and realize that they're heading this way. You can also hear sobbing. "Hello?" you say, gingerly approaching the sobbing door. "Go away!" sobs a voice. "Leave me alone!" "Who is that?" you say. "My name is Galore," the voice says. Your ears perk up, realising it's a female human. You enter the room to find her trapped in a cage bearing an enormous lock. "What are you doing in there?" "I'm a prisoner of Dr. No," she says. "He kidnapped me from Jamaica, and plans to sell me into slavery." "Slave... slavery?" "Mainly slave slavery, yes." "Oh," you say. "That's bad." "The cage is locked. I can't get out." Galore is a beautiful young woman. She has long black hair, tan skin and brown eyes. She is wearing a yellow bikini. "Do they just call you Galore?" "Pussy," Galore says. "Pussy Galore." "...Ah. Hm. It's a... pleasure to meet you... Pussy. I'm James; Bond James. I mean, er—" "It's a pleasure to meet you too, James," Pussy giggles. The room is about 15 feet by 15 feet. It has a high ceiling, and is made of concrete. There is a single door in the south wall, made of steel and reinforced with iron. "Keys, keys..." you mutter, trying any cabinets and drawers you can find. You find a cabinet with several sets of keys inside. "What do you have there?" Galore asks. "I found some keys, but who knows whether they'll fit." "Oh, I see," Galore says. "Well, let's try them." You try the keys in the lock. They don't work. "Gah, damn it," you curse. "I suppose it's not the first time I've put my key in the wrong hole." Galore laughs. "Oh, I see what you did there," she says. "I'm not familiar with that particular idiom." "Ah! Oh, you know, I just make them up!" you respond brightly, amazed that she actually laughed. "Well, you're funny. I like that." Your heart flutters. She's The One. "Let's try the keys on the other side of the cage door," you suggest with a sudden enthusiasm. You try the keys on the other side of the cage door. They don't work. "Damn it! I was sure the keys would work from the inside." "I'm scared, James," Galore says. "Don't worry," you say. "I'll get us out of here." You try the keys on the other side of the cage door again. They still don't work. You stand back with an exasperated sigh to ponder the lock. "What are you doing?" Galore asks. "You know..." you mutter, eyes transfixed on the lock, "...I have these condoms." "What?" Galore asks. You get down in front of the lock and peel another condom from its pack. You feed it into the lock hole with deep concentration. "What are you doing?" Galore asks again. "I'm trying to put this condom through the lock hole," you say. "Why?" "Maybe if we inflate it hard enough, it'll break the lock open!" "Oh, I see," Galore says. "Well, go ahead." You put the end of the condom through the lock hole and start blowing. "It's not working," you say, blowing hard. "Here, let me help," Galore says, taking over. You take a step back and watch as Galore blows into the end of the condom. "It's not working," Galore says. "Yes it is, it has to! Blow harder, Galore!" Galore blows as hard as she can. "It's not working!" she complains, exasperated. "Damn. One more try." You get on your knees, breathe in the biggest load of air your lungs can hold, and force it all into the condom with gale force. "It's not working!" Galore says. "One more try! Come on!" You take the condom and blow as hard as you can. The door flies open. "I did it!" you say. "You sure did," Galore says. "Thanks for your help!" you say. "No problem," Galore says. "Come on, let's go." You rush through the door. "Wait," Galore says, stopping you. "We need to get changed." "Oh, er, yes, I can see why you'd want to." You and Galore rush into the changing rooms. "Quick, take off your clothes," you say. You and Galore get out of your spy suits and into the new ones. "Right!" You look at Pussy. Pussy Galore is a beautiful young woman. Pussy has long black hair, tan skin and brown eyes. Pussy is wearing a yellow bikini. "A definite improvement, my dear." "Thank you," Galore says. "The exit's that way, isn't it?" you say. "Yes," Galore says. "You know, I've been thinking..." "Yes?" you say. "Well, I was thinking that we should give this whole saving the world thing a rest." "Oh?" you say. "Yeah," Galore says. "You know, relax for a bit." "Are you quite sure? We're lost deep within the bowels of the underwater base lair of the supposedly-time-travelling supervillain Dr. No, who has an army of brainwashed U.S. marines in the basement, retrained as Nazi stormtroopers, set to rise up and destroy the island we're on so thoroughly that it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. This might not be the time." "Sure I am," Galore says. "I mean, how much trouble can we get into?" The door is suddenly booted open by a clean black shoe on a white trouser leg. "Bond!" the man shouts. "We've found you!" "Shit," you say. "It's Ernst Blofeld." "Who?" Galore asks. "The head of SPECTRE," you say. "Oh, him," Galore says. "I thought you meant the guy who played Blob in the first X-Men movie. He was a fat bastard." "That was Blob," you say. "He was in the first three X-Men movies." "Oh, OK," Galore says. "Shut up about X-Men!" yells Blofeld, brandishing a cat. "It's all over for you, Bond, and for your little she-friend! I've arrived to assist our mutual associate, Dr. No, in taking you down once and for all!" "Dr. No has a fluffy white cat?" you ask. "Dr. No has many things," Blofeld says, twirling the cat around his head, "but this cat is mine." "Why do you have a cat?" Galore asks. "Shut up, girl! You are the traitorous bitch who left my organisation to work for this bastard. You are nothing." "OK," Galore says. "Now, Mr. Bond," Blofeld yells, "prepare to die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!" Blofeld throws the cat at you. The cat lands on Galore's head, and sinks its claws into her face. She screams. You seize the moment, rushing the suddenly defenseless Blofeld and tackling him to the floor. You struggle against him, managing to get a grip on his arms, but cry out as a quick, sharp sting spreads through your upper back. "Ah, yes!" Dr. No laughs, standing over you. "My new Corpse Flower poison!" He slowly injects the syringe's full load of poison into your back with cruel glee. The poison spreads through your body, and you collapse to the floor. You struggle to breathe, before the poison reaches your brain and your vision fades. "Don't worry," he whispers salaciously into your ear, "the corpse flower isn't actually poisonous at all... until I get my hands on it." You reawaken strapped to yet another table adjacent to Pussy Galore, who has found herself in the same situation about five metres away. Dr. No and Blofeld are standing before you both, cackling and guffawing, confident in their complete victory. "Well, Mr. Bond," Dr. No says, "I hope you've enjoyed my hospitality. I do wish all my guests were as appreciative of my efforts." "You're madmen," you spit. "Now, now, Mr. Bond," croons Blofeld, gesturing upward, "I'd save that energy if I were you." Your gaze follows the upward motion of his hand, gradually widening in terror as you take in the sight of the most elaborate, infernal, diabolical method of execution you've ever conceived: a steel cage, slowly being lowered by two cranes, with a great, gaping maw of razors for a door, and a set of giant teeth at the bottom, imprisoning a bulbously-muscled, scream-belching nightmare creature. "The mouth of this mighty beast, with the strength of ten tigers and the agility of fifty baboons, is no doubt familiar to you, Mr. Bond," Blofeld says. "The Rafflesian, known for its ferocity and cunning, is one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. It would take a brave man to enter its mouth. The legendary shark tank at my private island was just the beginning. Now, this fiend will feast on your bones." "You'll never get away with this!" you shout, struggling against your restraints. "I already have, Mr. Bond." "Why?" you scream. "Money? Power? What is it you want?" Blofeld chuckles, stroking his cat. "Everything, Mr. Bond. Everything." "You won't get away with it!" you shout. "Mr. Bond, I ALREADY HAVE," Blofeld booms, his eyes narrowing. "You're my prisoner, and you will be devoured by the Rafflesian. I'm afraid I can't let you leave here alive." Dr. No turns cordially to some guards at the side of the room and snaps his fingers, signalling for them to begin lowering the cranes. The noise of the winches drives the caged beast further into frothing conniption. The Rafflesian's eyes bulge out of its head and it lets out an almighty, livid roar. "Oh dear me," Blofeld says, turning to the cage. "I'm so sorry, my dear." The Rafflesian's roar echoes off the walls of the room. The sound is so loud that it feels like your heart is being pushed down into your stomach. You grip the table, determined not to show fear in front of Blofeld and Dr. No. You rotate your head as far as you can in the direction of Pussy Galore. You look over at Pussy Galore, who is gazing blankly ahead. Her eyes are glazed over and her face is expressionless. "Pussy! Pussy, are you alright?" you urge. Her head turns lazily. Pussy stares at you absently for a few moments before her eyes focus in on yours. Her face immediately breaks into utter screeching panic. "I'M GOING TO DIE. I'M GOING TO DIE. FUCK. FUCK." She starts hyperventilating and screaming as if she's broken her legs. "Pussy, calm down!" "I CAN'T FUCKING CALM DOWN. WE'RE GOING TO DIE. I'M GOING TO DIE." Blofeld's cat tries to jump from his hands, obviously distressed by her screeching, but Blofeld grabs it by the scruff of the neck and starts twirling it around his head again. "Pussy, listen to me. We're not going to die. I won't let that happen." "LIAR! YOU'RE A LIAR! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" "Pussy, listen to me. We're going to be fine. I promise you." "Look at that fucking thing! It's going to fucking kill us, James! It's going to fucking eat me alive! Ohhh, God! Ohh, FUCK, no!" You try to calm her down, but she's having none of it. She continues screaming and crying, begging for her life. "Pussy, look at me. Look at me!" Pussy turns her head and stares at you. Her eyes are wild with fear. "Do you trust me?" "I... I... yes. Yes, I trust you." "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise you. I will never leave your side. Do you believe me?" "I... yes. Yes!" "Do you trust me?" "Yes!" "I love you." Pussy stares at you, stunned into silence. "I... I love you too, James." You would kiss her if you weren't strapped onto these damned tables. "Pussy, I promise you. We're going to get out of this alive." "I... I trust you." Blofeld's cat has escaped and is jumping up and down on the table. "Shut that fucking cat up!" you yell. Blofeld grabs his cat again and holds it close to his chest. The cat continues meowing in protest. "You'll never talk about my cat that way again, Bond!" He grabs the cat by the tail and yanks it wildly through the air in triumph. "Release the Rafflesian! Open the cage!" The door to the cage is opened, and the Rafflesian bounds out. It's a terrifying beast. It's basically a giant, hairless, muscular, ugly, snarling, pinkish-grey rat. It looks like an albino gorilla with a rat's head. It has long, sharp claws and fangs that protrude from its mouth. It looks like it's been working out and is bulging with muscles. It immediately leaps towards you and Pussy Galore. "No! No! Get away from us!" Pussy screams. You stare at the Rafflesian in terror. The Rafflesian stares back. It slowly approaches you, staring at you with its beady eyes. It stops and sniffs the air. It looks at you, confused. It looks at Pussy Galore, sniffs the air, and begins to approach her. It rubs itself against her leg. "What's it doing to Pussy?" you ask. "It's smelling me! It likes my scent!" The Rafflesian begins rubbing itself against Pussy's leg. "What do you want me to do?" "I don't know! Just don't move!" The Rafflesian begins sniffing her other leg. "It's trying to lick me! Get it away!" "I can't reach!" The Rafflesian begins to lick her other leg. "Get it away! It's going to eat me! Help!" You try to get the Rafflesian away, but it growls at you. It's not letting go of her leg. "Just don't move! It's not going to hurt you!" "It's licking me! It's licking me everywhere!" The Rafflesian begins rubbing itself against Pussy's legs. It begins humping her leg. "It's humping me! Get it away!" "I can't reach! I can't do anything!" The Rafflesian begins rubbing itself against Pussy's face. "It's humping my face! It's humping my face! Get it away! Gloomph—!" Dr. No, Blofeld and you all look on in stunned silence as the enormous, hollering night terror humps Pussy's writhing face. She desperately tries to escape, but she can't. The Rafflesian's humps become faster and faster. "Glompf—! Glompf—! Glompf—!" Pussy screams. Blofeld's cat, having slunk away again, approaches the creature with apparent fascination. The Rafflesian pauses its savage thrusting as it notices the tiny animal. It lets out a low growl as it turns its head towards the cat. Pussy, her face red and eyes bulging, desperately gasps for air through her nose. The cat, unfazed by the beast's warning growl, continues to approach it. It begins rubbing itself against the Rafflesian's leg. The Rafflesian, seemingly pleased by this, begins to rub the cat in return. "Hey!" cries Blofeld, unable to stand back and watch his precious cat's heart being stolen any longer. He strops nervously toward the Rafflesian. The Rafflesian lets out a mighty roar as it turns and charges towards Blofeld. It knocks him to the ground with one swipe of its paw. You watch in horror as the Rafflesian begins to repeatedly bite chunks out of Blofeld's head. Blofeld lets out a haunting trill of screams far beyond his vocal range as the Rafflesian tears his face off with its teeth. Blood gushes and streams from his head as the Rafflesian begins to eat it. Blofeld's traumatic squeaks subside as the Rafflesian finishes its grisly meal. The cat, having finished its own business, hops up onto your table and meows at you. Your ear mirror vibrates. "James...?!" Moneypenny's voice is wavering and breathless, as though she's running. "James, we're here! Q's here! We're coming in!" The door to the chamber emits a loud, solid thud, and it flies open. You watch Moneypenny and Q emerge into the chamber, wearing scuba gear and gas masks. Dr. No is still throwing up in the corner. You shout, "We can't move! We're strapped down on these tables! That giant mouse ape thing just ate Blofeld!" "What?" Q looks at the Rafflesian, who is licking its lips after finishing its meal. "Oh dear." He looks at you, then at the Rafflesian, then back at you. The Rafflesian looks at you, then at Q, then back at you. It lets out a mighty roar, and begins to charge towards you. "Q! Don't you have some kind of fancy gadget for just this situation?" "I do, I do!" Q says, fumbling through his pockets. He pulls out a small, red laser gun and fires it at the Rafflesian. The Rafflesian lets out a mighty scream as it ignites. It runs around the room, screaming in pain as it sets fire to the curtains and some of the other equipment. "Come on, James!" "We're still strapped down, you fool!" Q reaches down, fumbling with the straps that hold you down. He eventually pulls out a knife and slices through them. "Now come on!" You leap up, grabbing Q's hand and hauling yourself up. "Don't forget about Pussy!" Pussy Galore lets out a scream as the Rafflesian smashes its way past her toward the door. "Quick!" Q says, grabbing Pussy's hand and hauling her up. The enormous, burning demon tears down the hall and away, hooting and yelping in its alien facsimile of torment. Distant yelling and gunfire soon develop into explosions and sirens as the monster rampages on through the Doctor's base complex, battling its own flames and the outside world for its life. "What the hell is that thing?" Pussy asks. "I don't know," you hum, "but it wasn't the first time I've seen a Pussy being humped by a giant hairy monster!" "Shut up, asshole!" Pussy gasps. "We're getting out of here." Q nods in agreement. "We need to leave before the base goes up," he proclaims. "...Not so fast, Mr. Bond." You turn to see Dr. No panting in the doorway, holding a pistol in one hand and wiping his mouth with the back of the other. "I've been looking forward to this moment for a long time," he says. No fires his gun, hitting Q in the chest and dropping him instantly. "Q!" you shout, returning fire with your Walther PPK. No dodges your shot, laughing. "I'll get you, James, and all the Queen's men!" he laughs. An explosion rocks the chamber from somewhere deep within the base, causing the razor-encrusted cage and its cranes to tip and collapse across the floor. Girders holding parts of the room together start to creak and buckle. The room's temperature is rising steadily. "We need to get out of here!" Pussy shouts. "You're not going anywhere," Dr. No says, firing his gun at you. You dodge out of the way, but the bullet almost hits Pussy instead. "Bastard!" you shout, firing back at No. You hit him in the shoulder, and he drops his gun. No retreats back into the hallway, cursing. "Come on!" Pussy Galore rushes to your side. "Let's get him!" You give Moneypenny a nod and sprint after No. Moneypenny nods back at you and runs over to help Q. It's the '60s, she's a woman, she heals people. You and Pussy chase Dr. No down the hall and into a control room, where a single television screen displays a live feed from outside the base. "It's over, No," you say. Dr. No turns to reveal a broad and contented smile. "I've already won," he says, gesturing. You stare at the screen. A massive drill, larger than a skyscraper, has erupted from underneath the ocean and is making its way towards the island. "It'll take days to stop that thing," Pussy whispers, suddenly drained by disbelief. Dr. No laughs. "It's going five miles a minute. By the time you get to the controls, I'll have already won." You try to think clearly. "Where are the controls, No? Tell me!" "Never!" Dr. No retorts, his face twisting into a grimace. "The controls are in the main control room, three floors up," he continues, smiling. "And how many miles away is this drill?" "Five miles," he says. "Where's the elevator? Is it even working?" "It's working," he says. "But is it nearby?" "It's right outside the door," he says. "Alright, so... if it takes ten, say fifteen seconds to get into the elevator and get it moving... each floor might take five seconds, so that's fifteen again... the controls might take another fifteen to find, and then fifteen seconds of mashing them should probably do the trick. So we should be able to stop the drill right at the shoreline! Brilliant!" Dr. No stares at you. "You think you're so smart," he says, laughing. "But you're not going anywhere." Suddenly, you hear a creaking sound. The entire room is shaking. "What's happening?" you say, alarmed. "The base is collapsing!" No yells. "We're going down!" One of the control room's sealed exit doors buckles and bursts wide open under the stress. "James!" Pussy grabs your arm and starts pulling you toward the new exit. "We have to get out, now!" "No, Bond!" Dr. No finds a long, sharp shaft of fractured piping from the floor, at least two metres long, and clasps it in white knuckles like a spear. "I said... you're not going anywhere!" He screams and charges across the control room to gore you with the huge metal rod. Just as it's about to pierce your heart, Moneypenny and Pussy both haul you aside together, dragging you to the ground. No shouts a confused curse as he trips across your prone form and tumbles through the burst, shuddering doorway. Climbing to your feet, the three of you watch as the exit corridor around Dr. No rapidly floods with sea water. He groans angrily and starts to stand, but the corridor groans with him. Bolts and structural pieces begin pinging from the surfaces of the hallway in sequence, from one end along to the other. The Doctor's eyes dart over the convulsing walls in gathering shock, but as soon as he understands what's about to happen, the corridor whines, warps and fully gives way to the pressure of the surrounding ocean. One final gurgled squawk accentuates his death as the walls, floor and ceiling are forced together with a mournful aluminium howl, crushing him alive in metal. The four of you allow yourselves a couple of seconds of silence to take it in. You eventually speak. "Although I can't celebrate such a cruel death... I must admit it wasn't a surprise. I never took No for a lancer." "What's a lancer?" Pussy asks. "It's an old military term," you explain. "It means a lance-wielding soldier who's prepared to sacrifice himself for the good of his mission. It was a very clever joke, although I sort of had to start with the joke and then build the entire rest of the plot around it. Worth it, I say." "I'll drink to that," Q says, taking out his flask and swigging from it. "We should get out of here," you urge. "The whole place is going to collapse." You, Q and Pussy head back to the lift. "Well done, James," Q says in congratulation. "You're a real asset to the service. We couldn't have done it without you." "Thank you, sir," you reply. "I'm glad you're back with us, although M told me you'd been fired." "Oh, she did, did she?" Q grunts. "Well, I'll sort that out later. For now, let's get out of this death trap." The three of you enter the lift. "Is it safe to use an elevator in a collapsing underwater lair?" you ask. "I don't see why not," Pussy says. "It's not like the cable's going to snap or anything." "Yeah, but is the water pressure going to crush the elevator?" you say. "Oh, yeah, that," Pussy says. "I guess we might be crushed if the water gets too high." "Well, we can't take the stairs," Q says. "Those are certain death." "We could always wait," you say. "For how long?" Pussy asks. "I dunno," you say. "Until the water pressure becomes a problem." "I'm not waiting here!" Q says. "Let's draw straws or something. The short straw stays behind." "And what do the long straws get to do?" "The long straws get to leave, obviously," Q says. "Although I suppose the person with the shortest straw might not be the one who gets crushed to death." "You can't spontaneously escape a collapsing underwater base by holding a long straw, Q. You're really our inventor? No wonder you got fired." "I resent that, James," Q says. "I was not fired. I quit to pursue my own private projects." "Well, as worrying as that is, it's also a relief. Maybe next time I'll get some gadgets to use." "You did get gadgets to use," Q says. "Your exploding toothpaste, your lighter-gun, your—" "What?! M never said anything about those!" Across the ocean, somewhere in London, M's mouth explodes. "Well, anyway, we seem to be completely buggered," you sigh, deep in thought. "Hmm... you know, I do have these condoms..." "You're not having sex with me," Pussy says. "I'd rather die." "I wasn't suggesting that," you pout, offended. "I meant we could have safe sex." "Condoms wouldn't fit over your dick," Pussy says. "It's too big." "Well, that's not the first time I've been sarcastically propositioned by a man in a bikini." "I'm serious," Pussy says. "Your dick's too big. It'd rip the condom." "Oh. Well, in that case I agree," you say. In a single instant the walls explode around you, and what looks like the very smallest tip of an impossibly huge drill breaks through from the outside, pointed directly at your group. The noise is unreal; it's impossible to tell what the sounds you're hearing are, or which elements of destruction are producing them, as the Banshees of the deep sing out to claim you. "Giant drill!" Pussy yells. "I can see that!" you yell back. "We need to get out of here!" Q recalls. "I'm open to suggestions!" says Moneypenny, reminding everyone she exists. "Swim away?" you shout. "We're at the bottom of the ocean!" Pussy yells. "It's not going to work!" "We could get into a vehicle!" "Which one?" Pussy shouts. "Can we get into the drill?" "The drill? What, are you crazy? You'd be crushed to death!" Pussy says. "It's made of metal, you'd be sliced in half!" "No, I mean the vehicular part of the drill, you stupid cow!" "Oh, OK!" Pussy says. "Yes, we can get inside the drill! It's a big metal tube!" You swim over to the drill car, and quickly climb inside. You're just in time; you make it moments before you'd have blacked out. Pussy, Q and Moneypenny follow you in, and you close the hatch behind you. "Perfect," you heave. "We're trapped in a metal tube, at the bottom of the ocean," Moneypenny declares. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time our relationship has been kept alive by a tube, Moneypenny!" "Are you fucking serious?" Moneypenny asks. "I can't believe you just said that," Pussy says. Q spurts a mouthful of flask booze all over the wall, choking out a wheezy, drunken laugh. "See, it was funny," you say. "That was brilliant, James," Q says. "I'm dying here." "We're all dying," you say. Moneypenny sighs in disgust, and takes a cigarette out of her pack. "Yeah, smoke in the tiny drill compartment," you say. "I need to smoke," she says, lighting up. The cigarette illuminates her face, and you see her for the first time in a while. She's beautiful, with a heart-shaped face and wide, bright eyes. Her lips are red and pouty, and she bites them nervously as she looks at you. "What?" she asks. "You're beautiful," you say. She smiles, and looks down. "Let's focus," she says. You hear a loud, metal, clangorous noise outside the drill. "What the fuck was that?" you ask. "I think we just broke against the shoreline," Q says. "Are we going through?" you ask. "We're starting to climb," Q says. Full-scale existential panic erupts across Jamaica as a giant drill breaches the surface of the sea, churning the island nation from end to end into gravel and its citizens into mince. MI6 agents manage to pick you up from the drill's tiny side-pod in a helicopter about halfway through the hours-long process, after you manage to establish ear mirror radio communication. The shivering four of you are given blankets as the helicopter departs for England, and you take an opportunity to gaze down upon the ongoing destruction you've failed to prevent. "I've been thinking," you say, as the screams and ruinations reverberate through the sky. "Maybe I should become a teacher. I've always liked kids." "You'd be good at it," Pussy says. "Yeah," you say. "I've thought about it before. I think I would." "Well, if you need a reference, I'd be happy to oblige," Pussy says. "Thanks," you say. "I'd love to teach," Pussy says. "I think it would suit me." You look at her, and smile. "I think so, too," you say. "What are you smiling about?" she asks. "I'll tell you later," you say. "Oh, you're so mysterious," she says. You grin. The distant anguish of the Jamaican people continues to whisper faintly on the wind as the desecrated corpse of their country fades slowly out of view. Back at MI6, the debriefing is long and painful. M is furious with you, but Q defends you. The mission was a success, after all. "I caun't belieff yuu did thessh, 007," M slurps from the gaping cavern in her face. "Jumeycka issh cumpleetley and utturleey dehshtrooeyed!" "I had no choice, ma'am," you say. "The mission was a success." "Issh the daumidge eyble too beee revurrsht?" M slavers. "I don't see why not, ma'am," Q says. "We have all the technology and expertise necessary to rebuild the island." "Werl, I'm shurr te peepul off Jummeyyka wihl bee thaenk-full," gulps M. "I hope so," you say. "I'm sorry, ma'am." "Daun't be shorrey, Jehhmz," M squirts. "Jush try too avoyd dehshtrooyeyng te nuxt aeyy-land yoo vishit." "I'll try, ma'am," you say. M sighs, blowing saliva all over you. "Ennieweh, I'm asshignning yoo to a misshun in Ishtagnbuhl." "Istanbul?" you ask, blinking the spit out of your eyes. "Yus, Ehshthangball," M flecks. "Youor gong too shtup ann ashashinneyshn." "Er, well, actually ma'am, I was thinking of... I was thinking perhaps of becoming a teacher instead. I met a pretty girl in a bikini, and..." "Ohh, yessh," M sprays. "I huerd bout datt. Werl, I'm shhorrie, butt I need yu pher tiss mishen." Pussy Galore bursts into M's office. "I'm his reference!" she says. "I can vouch for him! He'll be a great teacher!" M sighs, splattering her. "Phine, hee ckan bee a teesher." "Thank you!" Pussy says, wiping her mouth. "Buhtt I duhn't wunt to heer bout enney moerr... shennaneygunz," M showers. "We'll try not to cause any on our way out, M." You solemnly place your Walther PPK, first-aid kit, bottle of cyanide, stolen pistol, used lint roller, melted chocolate bar, waterlogged flashlight, ruined passport, half-empty pack of condoms and secret ear mirror on her desk. "Shank yu, Jhimmz," M splutters, "an guddbahyy." Q hands you and Pussy a pair of towels as you leave the office. "So, where are we going?" you ask. "I'm going to the Bahamas," Pussy says. "I'm going to live in a pineapple and serve cocktails." "Oh, right," you say. "Well, I'm going to be a teacher." "Teaching what?" Pussy asks. "I dunno. English, I guess. I'm not really sure how it works." "Well, I'm sure you'll be a natural," Pussy says. "Can I... teach in your pineapple?" you ask coyly. "No," Pussy answers. "Oh. Right. Well, goodbye then." "Goodbye," Pussy says. You and Pussy kiss each other goodbye, and you slump miserably down the stairs, alone. "James!" Moneypenny cries, running up to meet you as you approach the exit door. "You're not leaving?" "I'm afraid so," you say. "M's had enough of me." "Oh, I'm sorry, James." "It's fine," you say. "Listen, I was wondering... do you want to get a drink sometime?" "I'd love to," she says, smiling. You grin. "Great. Pussy Galore turned me down. She's going to live in a pineapple in the Bahamas, and I get to be a teacher, probably teaching Cheese in some rancid, underfunded English school built out of cardboard and lice." "Oh, you'll find someone," she says. "You're a handsome man with a good job. You'll be fine." You sigh. "Maybe. I suppose it's not the first time I've been denied by an underdressed lady with a massive fruit." You and Moneypenny share a laugh, and you turn to leave. "Goodbye, James," she says. "Goodbye, Moneypenny," you answer, crestfallen. You walk out the door and into your new life.