The Harkness Supremacy - 10 of 12
Apr. 27th, 2007 02:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fangrrl_squeesTitle: The Harkness Supremacy - Chapter 10 of 12
Overall Rating: 15 (some violence, a tiny bit of slash, strong language)
Total Length: 11,100 words - which is why it's been broken down into 12 parts!
Chapter Rating: R (violence, another bit of slash)
Disclaimer: This is an homage. The characters are not mine.
Summary: What happens when a member of MI6, an assassin and a former time agent run into each other in Hong Kong? Quite a lot.
Part 1 - James Bond hated Hong Kong...
Part 2 - 'You're not about to win any awards for safe driving.'
Part 3 - 'I must have *really* pissed M off.'
Part 4 - 'One man's trash is another man's treasure'
Part 5 - It was only human to have a few drinks after hearing bad news...
Part 6 - Dr. Stuart Bell seemed to be pushing research along some very specific paths
Part 7 - It didn’t help that whoever designed the place apparently didn’t like sports, or America – or possibly both.
Part 8 - Bond wondered how much trouble he’d be in if he hogtied the American and left him in the closet for the duration.
Part 9 - 'You’re from the X-Files – a not very competent version of the X-Files, either.'>
***
Bond climbed the stairs of the crowded tenement and told himself that he wasn’t nervous. Scared, he could deny, but nervous… it was more difficult. He wiped his palms on his coat, reassured by the weight of his gun under his arm.
He hadn’t been kidding when he told Jack that if they were lucky, Bourne would be away. Bond couldn’t be sure who would win a direct confrontation between them and that uncertainty undermined his confidence, further. Uncertainty was new to Bond and he didn’t like it.
Then he realized that there wasn’t anything to debate. When in doubt, take the direct approach.
Jack watched Bond approach a certain door, hesitate, and then knock on it. “It’s Bond.”
A moment later, the door opened and James stepped inside.
Jack frowned. Something had taken a left turn into strange, which was usually familiar territory for him but Bond’s insistence of the danger in this particular patch of strange had made an impression. So what the hell was Bond up to? Jack prepared to follow Bond’s footsteps, only to be distracted by a buzzing in his pocket.
This is too much. Jack distrusted coincidences. He snatched at the phone, recognized Tosh’s number and ran with surprising grace and, more to the point, silence, to the end of the hall, away from Apartment 14.
“Bad time, Tosh.” He hissed.
“Think of that next time you get me out of bed, Mr. I forgot about the time difference. You want to hear about what connects your businessmen and your scientist, or not?”
Jack looked down the hall, conflicted. “Alright, but make it quick…”
***
Ten minutes later, Jack cut Tosh off in mid-sentence, as the doorway for Apartment 14 opened and shut far too quietly for Jack’s liking. He turned into a nearby doorway, hunching over it like he was fumbling with his keys and did his damnedest to look invisible. With only one witness, it was within Jack’s abilities to look very inconspicuous, indeed. Moments later, the American who had done his best to kill Jack earlier that day, strode past him dragging a trail of blood and cordite through the air. Jack flinched at the scent – indistinguishable to an ordinary human – and nearly ruined everything by bolting towards the recently-closed door before the other man had disappeared down a stairwell.
Jack hesitated outside the door for a moment and pressed an ear to it. Silence – wait. A faint scraping, then a heavy thump. Jack took a deep breath and tasted metal – an inauspicious combination of factors. Jack took another deep breath before shoving the door in. I hope I’m playing cavalry for the right guy.
To Jack’s too-sharp senses, the stink of blood and gunpowder was almost overwhelmingly thick inside the small apartment. Bond, leaning heavily against the wall, staggered doggedly towards… something in the kitchen, although the copiously bleeding gut-wound hampered his progress. Jack didn’t bother to wonder. He knew all he needed to know at the moment.
“Jesus!” Jack slammed the door shut. “Quit moving, damn it!”
Bond looked up, ashen faced, and tried to smile. “I thought I told you to stay put?” He gave up on his intended target and slid to the floor.
Jack retreated into humor. “So I’m a bad boy. Spank me later. In the meantime,” Jack hunkered down and took a closer look at Bond. The front of his shirt was soaked in blood and more dripped onto the floor. A classic gutshot, Jack was amazed that Bond could even move. “Oh, damn…”
“Wimp.” Bond accused with a grimace.
“Absolutely.” Jack replied. “I hate the sight of blood. So much so, in fact…” Jack laid a gentle hand on Bond’s stomach, ignoring the mess despite his supposed squeamishness. “Don’t shoot me, okay?”
Bond looked confused - and then startled - as Jack kissed him. Jack felt the energy flowing through him, invigorating – practically intoxicating, as it always was. Some days, I love my job. He ignored the omnipresent worry that one day, it would be once too many and he’d turn into the picture of Dorian Gray. Beneath his hand, Jack could feel ragged flesh healing and the pain-wracked tension leaving Bond’s body. Other tension, however…
“You want to tell me if that shirt was coming off or going on?” Jack teased as he sat back, satisfied with another job well done - only to be surprised as Bond yanked him back down and resumed where Jack had left off. Jack tried not to completely lose track of where he was. Damn, this guy knows what he’s doing, he thought, gladly going with the flow of things.
Abruptly, Bond let him go. “One: I thought I had a choice between getting fucked and getting shot. I was wrong.” he said, somewhat unsteadily. “Two: what the hell did you just do?”
“I told you, James, I work with alien tech. It’s very…alien.” Jack grinned. “And weren’t you taking a big risk – oh, hell.” Jack decided any questions could wait and kissed Bond again. Post-life-threatening passion was a good thing, in Jack’s opinion, and so much fun to take advantage of…
Just as he got comfortable, half sprawled against Bond and idly wondering how to get the – literally – bloody shirt off him, the secret agent heaved Jack off him and struggled back to his feet. Bond headed to a nearby sofa and donned a coat, covering up most of the mess on his clothes. Jack’s face fell. “Uh, did I miss something?”
Bond looked annoyed. “No. But that can wait.” Jack grinned, hope restored. “Jason Bourne thinks we’re both dead. That gives us an advantage – until he gets back and finds that I’m gone. So we have to move quickly. Your laptop and wallet are over there.” He nodded towards a counter. “As far as I can tell, he hasn’t tried to hack your system – yet.”
Jack gathered up the items. “He would have had a nasty surprise if he’d tried.”
“Perhaps. Listen to me, Jack, we have to be careful. I know how to handle a guy like Bourne-“
“And how!”
Bond shook his head, irritated. “I use whatever tools are available. But you don’t know-.”
“Brother, if it takes those sort of tools, I’ve a full set. And the nifty little box to carry them in.” Bond glared at Jack until his happy-go-lucky smile faded. “All right. I get it. But there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“I think I know who Bourne’s next target is.”
Bond stared at Jack. “Who?”
“The teacher over at the Hong Kong University.”
“What?”
“I know, he’s a joker in the pack but there’s a reason. Let’s go.”
On To Part 11
Overall Rating: 15 (some violence, a tiny bit of slash, strong language)
Total Length: 11,100 words - which is why it's been broken down into 12 parts!
Chapter Rating: R (violence, another bit of slash)
Disclaimer: This is an homage. The characters are not mine.
Summary: What happens when a member of MI6, an assassin and a former time agent run into each other in Hong Kong? Quite a lot.
Part 1 - James Bond hated Hong Kong...
Part 2 - 'You're not about to win any awards for safe driving.'
Part 3 - 'I must have *really* pissed M off.'
Part 4 - 'One man's trash is another man's treasure'
Part 5 - It was only human to have a few drinks after hearing bad news...
Part 6 - Dr. Stuart Bell seemed to be pushing research along some very specific paths
Part 7 - It didn’t help that whoever designed the place apparently didn’t like sports, or America – or possibly both.
Part 8 - Bond wondered how much trouble he’d be in if he hogtied the American and left him in the closet for the duration.
Part 9 - 'You’re from the X-Files – a not very competent version of the X-Files, either.'>
***
Bond climbed the stairs of the crowded tenement and told himself that he wasn’t nervous. Scared, he could deny, but nervous… it was more difficult. He wiped his palms on his coat, reassured by the weight of his gun under his arm.
He hadn’t been kidding when he told Jack that if they were lucky, Bourne would be away. Bond couldn’t be sure who would win a direct confrontation between them and that uncertainty undermined his confidence, further. Uncertainty was new to Bond and he didn’t like it.
Then he realized that there wasn’t anything to debate. When in doubt, take the direct approach.
Jack watched Bond approach a certain door, hesitate, and then knock on it. “It’s Bond.”
A moment later, the door opened and James stepped inside.
Jack frowned. Something had taken a left turn into strange, which was usually familiar territory for him but Bond’s insistence of the danger in this particular patch of strange had made an impression. So what the hell was Bond up to? Jack prepared to follow Bond’s footsteps, only to be distracted by a buzzing in his pocket.
This is too much. Jack distrusted coincidences. He snatched at the phone, recognized Tosh’s number and ran with surprising grace and, more to the point, silence, to the end of the hall, away from Apartment 14.
“Bad time, Tosh.” He hissed.
“Think of that next time you get me out of bed, Mr. I forgot about the time difference. You want to hear about what connects your businessmen and your scientist, or not?”
Jack looked down the hall, conflicted. “Alright, but make it quick…”
***
Ten minutes later, Jack cut Tosh off in mid-sentence, as the doorway for Apartment 14 opened and shut far too quietly for Jack’s liking. He turned into a nearby doorway, hunching over it like he was fumbling with his keys and did his damnedest to look invisible. With only one witness, it was within Jack’s abilities to look very inconspicuous, indeed. Moments later, the American who had done his best to kill Jack earlier that day, strode past him dragging a trail of blood and cordite through the air. Jack flinched at the scent – indistinguishable to an ordinary human – and nearly ruined everything by bolting towards the recently-closed door before the other man had disappeared down a stairwell.
Jack hesitated outside the door for a moment and pressed an ear to it. Silence – wait. A faint scraping, then a heavy thump. Jack took a deep breath and tasted metal – an inauspicious combination of factors. Jack took another deep breath before shoving the door in. I hope I’m playing cavalry for the right guy.
To Jack’s too-sharp senses, the stink of blood and gunpowder was almost overwhelmingly thick inside the small apartment. Bond, leaning heavily against the wall, staggered doggedly towards… something in the kitchen, although the copiously bleeding gut-wound hampered his progress. Jack didn’t bother to wonder. He knew all he needed to know at the moment.
“Jesus!” Jack slammed the door shut. “Quit moving, damn it!”
Bond looked up, ashen faced, and tried to smile. “I thought I told you to stay put?” He gave up on his intended target and slid to the floor.
Jack retreated into humor. “So I’m a bad boy. Spank me later. In the meantime,” Jack hunkered down and took a closer look at Bond. The front of his shirt was soaked in blood and more dripped onto the floor. A classic gutshot, Jack was amazed that Bond could even move. “Oh, damn…”
“Wimp.” Bond accused with a grimace.
“Absolutely.” Jack replied. “I hate the sight of blood. So much so, in fact…” Jack laid a gentle hand on Bond’s stomach, ignoring the mess despite his supposed squeamishness. “Don’t shoot me, okay?”
Bond looked confused - and then startled - as Jack kissed him. Jack felt the energy flowing through him, invigorating – practically intoxicating, as it always was. Some days, I love my job. He ignored the omnipresent worry that one day, it would be once too many and he’d turn into the picture of Dorian Gray. Beneath his hand, Jack could feel ragged flesh healing and the pain-wracked tension leaving Bond’s body. Other tension, however…
“You want to tell me if that shirt was coming off or going on?” Jack teased as he sat back, satisfied with another job well done - only to be surprised as Bond yanked him back down and resumed where Jack had left off. Jack tried not to completely lose track of where he was. Damn, this guy knows what he’s doing, he thought, gladly going with the flow of things.
Abruptly, Bond let him go. “One: I thought I had a choice between getting fucked and getting shot. I was wrong.” he said, somewhat unsteadily. “Two: what the hell did you just do?”
“I told you, James, I work with alien tech. It’s very…alien.” Jack grinned. “And weren’t you taking a big risk – oh, hell.” Jack decided any questions could wait and kissed Bond again. Post-life-threatening passion was a good thing, in Jack’s opinion, and so much fun to take advantage of…
Just as he got comfortable, half sprawled against Bond and idly wondering how to get the – literally – bloody shirt off him, the secret agent heaved Jack off him and struggled back to his feet. Bond headed to a nearby sofa and donned a coat, covering up most of the mess on his clothes. Jack’s face fell. “Uh, did I miss something?”
Bond looked annoyed. “No. But that can wait.” Jack grinned, hope restored. “Jason Bourne thinks we’re both dead. That gives us an advantage – until he gets back and finds that I’m gone. So we have to move quickly. Your laptop and wallet are over there.” He nodded towards a counter. “As far as I can tell, he hasn’t tried to hack your system – yet.”
Jack gathered up the items. “He would have had a nasty surprise if he’d tried.”
“Perhaps. Listen to me, Jack, we have to be careful. I know how to handle a guy like Bourne-“
“And how!”
Bond shook his head, irritated. “I use whatever tools are available. But you don’t know-.”
“Brother, if it takes those sort of tools, I’ve a full set. And the nifty little box to carry them in.” Bond glared at Jack until his happy-go-lucky smile faded. “All right. I get it. But there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“I think I know who Bourne’s next target is.”
Bond stared at Jack. “Who?”
“The teacher over at the Hong Kong University.”
“What?”
“I know, he’s a joker in the pack but there’s a reason. Let’s go.”
On To Part 11
