Here's a bit of writing I've been messing with for some time now. It's a work in progress, a bit of "fan fiction" if you like.
"No Regrets" This is a story of an older Bond, a Bond that is nearing the end of his career. A career that has had many injuries and wounds, all of which are beginning to take their toll on 007. I've tried to stay true to Ian Fleming's 007, with the exception that this is told in the first person, from Bond's point of view.
"No Regrets"
1
"A Walk in the Park"
0943 hrs, July 11, 1982, Vienna, Austria.
The four had been trailing me since after the opera last evening. "Naughty" Nadia and I were followed by them the entire night. That is until we returned to my suite on the fourth floor of the Palais Hansen Kempinski. I feigned oblivious indifference, but internally, I was quite concerned. Middle age has heightened the realization of my mortality....I would not however, allow their presence to ruin my night with the dusky Romanian Baroness Nadia.
I suppose they were certain we'd be in the rest of the night...Too damn right, they were! One doesn't squander a perfect evening with such a temptress as Nadia unless they were an utter fool. I've often been considered a damn fool, but never an utter fool, so enjoy the evening I did. I enjoyed every centimeter of her, every scintillating bit.
Even this morning as I showered, I could still smell her on my skin and taste the very essence of her womanhood on my lips, even as she returned to her husband, the Baron Von Something or another....One of those "utter fools" I mentioned previously.
Upon exiting the Kempkinski, after enjoying a very filling Monte Cristo sandwich, Cinnamon porridge and some rather strong, thick Turkish coffee, I strolled along the Schottenring on the Ring Boulevard. I have grown weary of the four amateurs' heavy-handed intrusion into my visit to the cultural wonder that is Vienna. Turning right, I walked toward Wahringer Strasse and crossed over to the Sigmund Freud Park.
It was time to bring this to an end.
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Upon entering the park, I headed straight for the Wiener Universtatskirche. I skirted the large open mall that already held several dozen visitors, veering to the left of the large Jesuit Cathedral, pausing a few moments from time to time, to feign interest in several attractions along the way, I saw the four trailing me approximately 70 meters away.
I used the distance to my advantage as I quickly darted into the treeline forming the boundary of the park. Once in the dark of the bushes, I went into a kneeling position. I quickly attached the suppressor to the muzzle of the recently issued Walther P5. Once assured the sound moderator was securely fastened to the snout, I press-checked to insure the presence of a Geco 158 gr Subsonic 9mm Parabellum in the chamber. Keeping the hammer cocked, I lie in wait....
They approached in haste, fearing they'd lost me.
Waiting until they'd come to within 15 meters, I settled the front sight of the P5 on the center of the face of the man on the far left and pressed the trigger once. His head snapped back and he disappeared from my view. His friends paused in shock, each dropping in a wide legged, combat crouch, indicative of the KGB's training, looking to one another for guidance.
I wasted no time in acquiring another target as I transitioned, ever so slightly, to my right and let go a controlled pair to the crouching Slav's chest. He went down in a heap. The man to his left (to my right and my next target) spun on his heels and took off in the direction he came..I let him be...
The last one, located on my right flank, who had the broad, blunt facial features of the Uzbek, was all that was left to sort out. Possibly in his late 20's, he was very smooth and practiced with the little suppressed PSM in 5.45x18 he had locked in a two handed grip. He fired 3 rounds, rapid fire, in the direction he thought I was in.
His intuition was very good indeed!
Two of his rounds snapped harmlessly past, but one of his little armour-piercing rounds bored a neat hole through the left sleeve of my Navy hued, Savile Row Blazer, knocking me to the ground. Numbed from the impact, I lie mostly on my right side in a "roll over prone", settling my front sight on his chest, firing three rounds in quick succession...He merely flinched... DammitAllToHell Man! Body Armour!
I brought my sights to bear on his heavily hooded eyes, pressing the trigger once. Down he went, a reddish mist still hanging in the air.....The tourists sitting oblivious, a mere 75 meters away. Glancing to my left and to my right, confident the action has, to this point, gone unnoticed, I fired the remaining two rounds left in my Walther, one more into the Uzbek's head and one to the head of his friend, who had just moments ago taken two to the chest.
I quickly slammed home another 8 round magazine, thumbed the P5's dual action control lever twice, once to chamber a fresh round, the second to lower the hammer safely.
Rising to my knees, I took stock of my surroundings....Clear, all clear.
I threaded-off the suppressor, slipped it back into the left pocket of my soiled beige slacks. Next went the P5 into the Horse Shoe Leather Products IWB holster located on my right side, along the seam of my now ruined slacks. Retrieving the ejected magazine, I stiffly rose to my feet, only to notice the park's visitors, had also risen to their feet and running hither and thither in a full panic!
I spun on my heels, crashing through the brush, crossing Alser Strasse and over to Riechstrat Strasse trying to create as much distance from the drama as I could...
I've noticed that now, at 47 years old, I'm not as sharp, nor as smooth, as I was at 30. Ten years ago even, I'd have noticed them sooner and slotted them all the night before....Perhaps I should consider retirement....
My name is Bond, James Bond....
I've just killed three men in Sigmund Freud Park and I'm so very tired of this License To Kill......
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