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nana-71926 · 4 years

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Alas! Minion QB-A1 (@aramiheartilly) has been kidnapped!!

We won’t take this lying down @teamofvillains!! Return our Arami to us ASAP or face dire consequences from Q branch!!

We’re one step closer to freeing our fellow minion as we fulfill task 2:

Pick a NON-BOND villain from any movie/book/musical and place them in Craig’s Bond universe. What are their nefarious plans? Who would they target? How do they fit into the Bond universe? Write a headcanon or ficlet to tell us. (could be crack or serious, whatever you choose)

I choose JIM MORIARTY as the villain, and here’s a ficlet with Q as the third Holmes brother:

“He’s back,” Q said tersely into the secured and encrypted line. This he had prepared himself, after everything that had happened in the past few hours.

“That’s not possible,” drawled Sherlock.

“Don’t get me started,” snapped Q. “I’ve already had to deal with quite the shit show here at Six this entire day: Comms failing at critical times during missions and communications with agents replaced by the Looney Tunes theme song; breaches in my fire wall, not to mention the sprinklers turning on in M’s office. I have to be thankful it’s not another explosion, though he’s promising one.”

“Why go through you when he could easily have reached me?”

“Jesus bloody Christ!” exploded Q. “Are you listening to this, Mycroft?”

“Yes, I’m here, brothers mine,” sighed a third voice down the line.

“I don’t have time for this shite,” said Q. “And I wouldn’t have called if…if it had not turned quite serious.”

He glanced at the figure standing a few feet away, head bandaged.

“Perhaps that’s his way of telling you that you need to up your game, little brother,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job. Look, he’s your mess,” Q snarled. “Tell him to stop flirting with me. I’m not going to discount the fact that he’s got some trick up his sleeve, dragging Six like this into his scheme, but if he wants to just get at you through me, the least you can do is haul your arse down here and help out!”

“He’s not flirting with you!”

“Sherlock and John will be on their way now,” Mycroft cut in smoothly. “As for you, Q, has M cut out a security detail and—”

“Of course, he has, and I’ve got everything under control here,” grumbled Q as he continued to run the systems-wide diagnostics, patching up and strengthening the wall. The incursions were easily contained once they were picked up, yet they had managed to breach his wall and touch him, and those he held dear. This he could not forgive.

“Good,” continued Mycroft. “I shall be in touch with M, then. Do call me if you need to update me on anything.”

Q rang off and continued typing, his focus narrowed down to the task before him even as he said, “I’m sorry you had to listen to that, Bond.”

“It’s not a problem,” rumbled 007.

“That’s why I make it a point to talk to my brothers once a year, at most.”

“Let’s see that message once again,” said 007 as he came up to Q’s desk.

“It’s nothing special,” said Q irritably. “In fact it’s so pedestrian, I’m starting to wonder whether Sherlock is right. Maybe this really isn’t Moriarty.”

007 said nothing, merely hummed low in his throat as they stared at the little note that had been attached to an absurd bouquet of a hundred roses that Q had found on his desk that morning, before all the hoolabaloo broke out.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Don’t tell Sherlock

I’m in love with YOU.

-JM

“It looks like him,” 007 said.

“Bond,” said Q, aching as he gazed at 007’s injury. “I’m so sorry.”

Bond’s comm had been the one tampered with at the last minute, leaving him to fend for himself against an encroaching armed gang in an airtight, top-secret facility in the south of Spain just a few hours ago.

The bastard knows, of course, thought Q bitterly as he looked at the man he loved.

Bond shrugged. “This is nothing. You, on the other hand…”

“He probably thinks it would be amusing to hunt me down and kill me,” sighed Q. “The usual song and dance, I suppose.”

“Over my dead body,” said Bond, coldly.

Now at AO3

#007 fest #villains and their villainy challenge for villains day #team Q branch to the rescue!

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awakeningofthedeath · 7 years

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Awakening of the Death: Chapter #1

Next Chapter

March 28th, 1888

New York City, NY U.S.A

She was in a new world, and the smell of rat piss filtered the warm spring day with such disgust that she wanted to vomit. Hellen however, had no time to think of disposing her stomach’s contents, for she was running through an unknown world. A world that she’d only seen in her mind’s eye, and visions in forms of words in a newspaper. The streets were filled with carriages, pedestrians, and crates to boxes Hellen never thought she’d seen in one place. Without giving a pardon to every pedestrian that she’d knocked down, Hellen continued forward, she’d found a narrow alleyway where she’d barely dodged a passing carriage. The horse flared backwards as the driver yelled, “Watch where you going lass!”

Hellen never stopped running, and there was nothing that would keep her from stopping.

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic Ocean

London

Jacob is a damn fool to allow this, sespite of a torture to still stand!

Jack, a lad with a reputation of a difficult start in childhood of poverty, and torture to a well known feared and trained assassin strode through the streets of Whitechapel with purpose. It had been twenty years since his mother, Juliana, was killed by the thugs that allied with the London Templar Rite. The grand master gave the orders to gather every street urchin in Whitechapel to be “rehabilitated” or “researched” upon.

His mind however, revealed a more aggressive objective. For he was seeking revenge upon all who were involved in his “rehabilitation” at the mad house of an asylum where his mother died and he’d barely made it out alive. Though there were days that Jack felt that he’d already died. Not in the body, but in innocence. He might as well been better off dead if Jacob Frye didn’t rescue the young lad, bring him into the brotherhood to be his apprentice for all those years. He even took the lad with him along with other apprentices with Jacob to India to be trained further with the brotherhood there.

As time grew, he’d grown physical stronger; yet the scars and wounds on his soul never diminished, He wanted to be rid of the reminder of his prison. But overtime, the memories were not yet haled from the phycological trauma that Jack had lived with for all these years. He even expressed to Jacob, “We should use those patience to grow the brotherhood further. Give them an opportunity to start a new life, with an essential kind of creed...”

“Like your ideas?” Jacob asked firmly. “Jack, you managed to barely survive cause you are a smart lad. A fighter, but allowing dangerous men free into the brotherhood. Regardless of me being a pro supporter on this matter, the council wouldn’t allow criminals and mad men in the brotherhood.”

“What am I then?” Jack barked, his knuckles turning white under his gloves from rolling his fist.

Jacob couldn’t answer. The rest of the conversation was nothing but a blur to Jack, as he stormed off, knowing what he must do. To bring his scared soul peace and to avenge his mother. And he was about to do it in all ways possible, even if it costs his life.

A loud sound caught him off guard. It sounded like a light meow. Jack looked down to see a silvery grey cat trotting towards him. It stopped at Jack’s boots, sat down, and looked up at him with the most breathtaking blue eyes that Jack had ever seen. He never really cared for cats generally; yet something was drawing him to crouch down and to pet the feline on the head.

He gave a small smile as the cat purrs with contentment. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a god damn place like this?” Jack asked the cat. The feline just kept staring at him with those eyes. As it wrapped it’s right arm around Jack’s wrist, he noticed that there was a strange white marking that stuck out of the darker grey fur. It seemed to be in an oval shaped pattern similar to a leaf. But as he was about to push the cat away in order to reach his mission, he’d caught the cat’s eyes again and stared into them to the point where he wasn’t aware of the changes surrounding him

New York City

Moments later

Hellen should of not looked behind, for the moment she turned her face forward again, she suddenly tripped over a large mass, landing upon the brick road.

“Damn it!’ Hellen cursed through her teach as she quickly pushed herself off the dirty red road. She turned to see a large man rubbing his temple, and the mop of gang members ready to catch her for the $2,500.00 reward for her capture. Without a word to the stranger, she took off free running. She turned to her right side through an alleyway. pushing down cans and crates to block her path, she presses forward, only to find herself pend up by a tall wooden fence.

His head was throbbing hard as he’d opened his eyes. Jack analyzed his surroundings. He still wasn't sure how the hell he’d found himself in New York City of all places. It seemed like five minutes ago when he was taking a brief walk away from Jacob Frye’s quarters after the heated argument they had about the Creed’s purpose. The next thing he knew, he’ d woken up in a large stack of hay in a carriage barn. He wasn’t familiar with what he suppose was London’s district. But it took the combination of the sight of a lovely new copper statue of a woman holding a touch on an island and a newspaper titled “The New York Times” to understand why he wasn’t familiar with the area. For he was not in London at all. For the streets seemed to not carry the same architectures

For he was in New York City.

Jack needed time to exhaust himself, believing that he was merely dreaming. He couldn’t possibly be transferred here somehow. Was he finally going mad just as Jacob secretly feared? Jack laid his back against a brick wall, slowly lowered himself to the ground, and placed his head on his knees. Breathing few deep breaths. Trying to clear his head. A sudden force tripped over his back, causing him to stand quickly unto his feet ready to fight. A woman stumbled to her feet as she continued to run.

“Stop that salmench!” A thick german accented man screamed towards the running figure. The group passed by Jack, one of them shoving him out of the way. Jack wanted to punched him for that, but never got the chance,

“What the hell?” Jack started to follow the group of men. He jumped onto some crates, and climbed along the walls of a building to reach the top. Running along the rooftops. Following them like a cat chasing a mouse, until they arched an alleyway. Jack could not see with all the laundry lines full of old trousers and shirts blocking his view, so he jumped onto another corner and examined the scene.

The gang was surrounding a young woman they had cornered in an ally blocked by a wooden fence. Two of them tried to grab her, but she’d fought back with what Jack realized was a hidden blade. One of the men collapsed, gripping his throat in vain as a waterfall of blood poured down onto the streets. She kicked the other man square upon his nuts, only to cry out with so much pain. It wasn’t until when Jack see’s the man’s center of the trousers stained with deep red that he realized why the man screamed beyond the normal cry. It wasn’t until when fighting a third man that pinned her to a wall that seated the bloodshed. The large man pinned the woman’s arms above her head with a massive hand, while the other placed a large knife upon her throat. It was by then Jack took into action. He crouched down, and jumped into the allyway. Unceasing his hidden blade, he stabbed the gang member deep in the collar bone. Blood splattered towards him and the young woman’s face. But she took the opportunity to grab his large knife and stabbed him in between the eyes.

Oh Shite! Jack thought. He did not expect this woman to take such brutality like that, even in assassin standards. His thoughts were changed when another member took him by the shoulder and prepared to punch him; but Jack’s hidden blade slitted the large man’s throat. The man let Jack go in order to, in vain, stop the waterfall of red from painting the streets red, and he collapsed face down.

Jack turned to examine the assassin. She was a thin, yet muscular woman with red brown hair that was slightly curled on the ends. Her chin was a bit strong for good looks, but her dark green eyes were examining their surroundings. But the one feature that Jack questioned himself more about this woman was the torn ear lomb on her left side. It looked old, but hellish.

She was gathering anything that the men carried. She looked up at Jack, her eyes bold enough to catch his attention, “You don’t have to ask for permission on my part, take whatever you need. Except for tobacco, a flask, and some money for me.”

She’s got high demands. Jack groaned in thought as he’d bent down and took only a pistol, a small bundle of bulliets, and the large carving knife that not two minutes ago was the bain of it’s formal master.

Hellen was breathing hard as the high of the fight was over. She felt thankful, yet pissed off that a man, an assassin. From what Hellen could tell from his fighting style, and the long black trench coat, like hers, that seemed to be an assassin’s trade mark. She always hated it! When a man would come in to pull her butt out of the fire like a damsel in distress in a children’s story. Still she’d analyzed the assassin further.

The man was a tall, broad shouldered man who appeared to be four or five years her senior, give or take, with dirty blond hair. He had a strong, yet sharp looking chin. His expression was like that of a hunter, his blue eyes surrounding his turf and kills. His blue eyes looked upon her, as if he were about to ask questions; yet Hellen noticed that his mind was in another land far away in thought.

There were only a few exceptions on some men rescuing her. Mostly in the line of duty of Jesse and Frank James. The memories of Jesse saving her arse from childhood fights to train and bank raids made her stop to reminisce for a few seconds. It has been five years since that coward Robert Ford shot him in the head. Hellen thought, gripping the handle of a ‘38 smith & western tightly. From behind even to make it more...One day I’ ll hunt him down like the templar dog he is, remove his balls while alive, and then I’ll...

The sound of men shouting interrupted her thoughts. She ran to the entrance of the alleyway and saw yet another mob of gang members running towards her. She turned to see the man behind her. “'Why you just stand there! Can't you see I m in trouble?” The man didn’t even budged. He looked as confused as he did mere minutes ago. Hellen groaned dramatically. She grabbed his hand, and guided him out into a run.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked in a surprised tone, nearly tripping over at the sudden pull from the woman as they fled.

Hellen shouted from. “Heard the saying flee or fight? Well I have a huge award on my head and I’m not in it to be caught today! Unless you could help me out of this situation.”

But before he could respond, he could hear a gun shot as a bulliet planted in a passing pedestrian on his left. He grunted out of breath and cried out, Jack was confused, unsure what happen and there is nothing he can do, only follow her. He and the woman ran through the allies and small streets with equal speed.

“Oh great! Now you involved me on your trouble!” He shouted sarcastically as he saw a few more men appearing from different street points.

“You were the one who invited yourself to this affair. That what happens when you interfere!”

“So you wanted a beautiful red necklace of blood on your neck for your own funeral? Cause I would of just pasted by and allow you to die!” Jack was breathing out the words hard as they ran

“And why not? I been in worse situations then this!” Hellen pushed a group of working men through as they emerged themselves out of a factory. She never even bothered them with a pardon. “Better you do something with those Templars who after me...!!”

Jack suddenly stop running in the middle of the empty street, letting go of her hand. He heard the word 'Templar'. His heart was now burning from anger and revenge. He turned around, still gripping the large knife he’d claimed, and faced the group of men.

Hellen was confused, she stop running when she felt the absence of the stranger’s hand and saw him standing firm, ready to fight. “What are you doing?” She cried out “We should keep running you thunderhead! They are too many of them! We are out of numbered!”

But the man didn't seemed to hear her, he start to stare at the many Templars heading towards them. Gripping the knife with his black gloved hand, he ran towards the me and start to scream a war cry, and fought them alone!

Hellen didn’t even had a second to think about unsheiving her hidden blade. The man. The assassin. He never used his hidden blade; instead, he used the large knife to brutally stab a member dozens of times in speed. It was like watching a bull elk in season. Attacking without a care if he’d live or die.

“What a bold bastard!” Hellen uttered. She mediately pulled her ‘ 38 pistol and fired at a large man who would attack the assassin from behind. She unshaved her hidden blade and ran in to assist.

The entire scene seemed to be a blur. For she had been in many battles before, but not with one where she had to have complete faith in a stranger.

When the bloodbath was finally done, Hellen bent down to her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Footsteps caught her ears, as she looked up to see the assassin, covered with as much blood as she was, starting to leave the scene.

“Hey! Wait just a clock tick!” As the man continued to walk through the ally ways, Hellen trotted to catch up with. “I know you are an assassin, yes! But, that is not the point. Are you a member of this brotherhood here in New York? Where in hell did you learn to fight like that?”

The man turned around and gave a stare hard enough to even stop a horse in it’s tracks. But Hellen never backed down, for she faced men more aggressive looking then this man. “It was only an obsticle to get by. One YOU dragged me into!”

Hellen’s eyes narrowed. “Well excuse me Mr. Euro man, but I never asked for your help in the first place! I can handle myself!”

“Euro man?” He asked in a strong voice of confusion.

“Europe. I can tell you are from across the Atlantic. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve probably just off the boats, for you look like you’ve been dragged ten miles.”

He said nothing in response. Then choosing the words carefully he said, “I didn’t arrive by a ship. Hellfire I don’t even remember how the hell I landed here in this city?”

“Wait, you don’t remember a thing?” Hellen asked, curiosity suddenly came upon her better judgement.

“I bet that cat has something to do with it!” He exclaimed, but not to Hellen.

“Look, I know we’re not made for this...” Hellen paused to examine her surrounding. “...iron city. Okay maybe for you since London is well...” Hellen paused thinking of a way to describe a place she’d only heard through tales, papers, and books. “I don’t know, I have no idea! But we both have one thing in common. To kill the grand master, figure out why we are stuck here...” Hellen once again paused thinking of how to address this man. A man with taller tales then a Younger brother. ”Despite our differ tales and to get the hell out of New York.”

“Are you proposing that misery loves company?” He asked the young woman in a hard serious tone. Normally, women would be cowering under Jack’s stares, but this woman seemed to have either more backbone or is a brave little idiot.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, yes. After all, with your strength and my stealth, we both help each other in a way. Not sure on brains, but it’s better then nothing. Besides, it beats rusting outside for a place to sleep.”

The man gave a thought. He did looked tired. He sighed and uttered, “Fine! But only for a few nights, until I can get back to London.”

“London? Is that where your from” Hellen suddenly felt like one of the school girls from childhood. But she knew she needed answers, and he won’t let this man leave until they are answered. “Don’t you euro’s usually give a name first before excepting room? I mean if you decided to murdur me in my sleep, I be obliged to know who he was.”

The man gave a glare, obviously not the kind of man to have a grit sence of humor

“Jack.” Was all he could give.

“That’s it? Jack...just Jack?” Hellen was puzzled, yet not surprised. “Don’t you know your pa’s sir name?”

Jack stood silent’. “I never knew him.”

She blinked as she heard the words. “Oh. I’m sorry. My pa is gone too. Ten years ago in fact. But, ...” Hellen stretched out her hand to him, as a devotion from the uncomfterble situation. “Well, Jack. The name is Hellen Patterson.”

The man. Jack. Opened his eyes, the blue orals focused somewhere else. “I never really knew him. Don’t care anyways.” He pushed away Hellen’s hand and started to walk forward. “Shouldn’t we get to your home for safety, it’ll be dark soon.”

Hellen stood, crossarmed, and waiting for the man to take three yards before she’ three yards gave a hard whistle. Jack then turned, puzzled. Hellen shook her head, her Amber curls swung lightly around. “You’ve never been to my home and yet you are leading the way you thunderhead. My place is west of here.” She picked her hand up and pointed with her thumb behind her. Jack never said a word as he turned on his heels and walked behind the young woman.

#awakening of the death #assassins creed syndicate #assassin's creed #Hellen Patterson #team hellen and team jack #jack the lad #jack the ripper #miagie #venus #new york city #london #outlaw #murder #gang #life 1880's

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