[center][img]https://platform-ps-files.s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/images/origin/large_007_BANNER_2775b2b1e0.jpg[/img][/center] [hr] It had been half a day or so onboard the helicarrier and Bond was still, even now, amazed at the size of the thing. By all accounts something of this magnitude should have been spotted over a dozen times, but the crew onboard were obviously professionals. Not to mention their cloaking technology, far surprassing anything close he'd seen in Q-lab. The preliminary tests on an 'invisible car' were less than satisfactory to say the least. He could only assume that as per the usual modus operandi of SHIELD - their tech had been backwards engineered from some captured alien craft. He'd been given his own room aboard the craft - one that served as a prison cell in the small period of time while the operatives onboard verified that he was, in fact, who he said he was. He'd insisted they use the analogue communication device rather than their onboard computer to get through to M. Bond had stressed that it was of the utmost importance that his name and whereabouts were not mentioned. He doubted Scaramanga could intercept encrypted communications coming from SHIELD to MI6, but somewhere in the back of his mind he worried about the extent of this mans power. Unfortunately for him, the operatives on hand did not heed his advice. M was contacted through the usual SHIELD channels. A direct call through a computer more advanced than any consumer had had the chance to come near touching that reached a modified rotary dial phone - one that only rung when something of the utmost importance had to go to M. She was informed of the situation and verified that James was the double-oh agent he said he was. Shortly after he was given free roam of the ship, and Felix had taken him to the mess hall for a much needed meal. "It's not exactly foie gras, but it'll do." Said Leiter, sliding his tray onto the table and taking a seat on the plastic chair. Bond did the same opposite him, tucking into his burger. He was no snob, and in this moment he was much happier to see the plain, straightforward meat sandwich over anything fancy. The two exchanged the usual small talk agents do after a successful mission, followed by the expected patter Felix expected from someone new to the helicarrier. Finally the conversation drifted to what personal details they felt secure enough to give each other - usually talk of pop culture or sports. Despite their mutual connection through bloodshed they were both experienced enough to know this proved nothing in the long run. [color=0072bc]"So, what now? Your boys work over the agent and I continue on my merry way?"[/color] "Not sure. Have you got any other leads to follow?" [color=0072bc]"None at all. Maybe the girl who sent me after you, I've got a tracker on her, but I fear it might be walking into a trap. Scaramanga let us live in Kowloon he had us dead to rights."[/color] "You're not wrong there, chief. I say wait until we can get some info out of this guy and sit tight here before you go off getting yourself killed. Not my decision though, the director has requested to speak with you." Bond raised an eyebrow. [color=0072bc]"The director, huh? I guess I'm finally moving up in the world."[/color] "I wouldn't look too pleased." Felix checked left and right quickly to make sure no one could overhear him, then leaned in and whispered. "The guys a real hard-ass. I guess you've got to be to run a place like this, but don't expect him to pull any punches." [hr] [table][row][cell]After their lunch and a quick tour of some of the more interesting parts of the heli-carrier, Felix led Bond to the mission control room of the vessel. The place was swarming with staff, bustling about or looking busy at their desks. The room was abuzz with chatter and the tapping of keyboards. American efficiency was at its peak here. At the back of the room, facing out towards the rows of workers and out further through the large window at the front of the ship stood the director. His platform was elevated, and he stood like Napoleon gazing out towards his empire. He'd already clocked Bond as soon as he entered the room, and with a relaxed hand beckoned the two over. "Show time, buddy. Try not to piss him off." [color=0072bc]"I'll do my best."[/color] The two walked past all the uniform rows of staff, Bond sneaking a quick glance at a few of their high-tech screens and any information about the various missions their field agents might be on.[/cell][cell][img] https://i.pinimg.com/736x/bd/97/2b/bd972b47ed7d1b6b64ff42f50e8eb895.jpg[/img] [color=2e2c2c]____________________________________[/color][/cell][/row][/table] Once a spy always a spy. it was hard to turn off his penchant for information gathering. Finally they approached the main man. "Like what you see, Mr. Bond? How does SHIELD compare to your standards across the pond?" Boomed the voice of Nick Fury. He spoke with authority, yet one that was relaxed enough to know he didn't need to force anything to gain it. [color=0072bc]"Let's just say I'm glad you're on our side."[/color] He held out a hand for Fury to shake. Fury almost smiled as he returned the gesture, it had been a long time since anyone had bothered with such formalities with him. He'd always enjoyed working with the Brits, they held themselves to a standard most other countries had stopped bothering with. [color=0072bc]"And if the rest of your field agents are anything like Felix then I'm sure America is in good hands. I doubt I'd have made it out of China without his quick thinking."[/color] "Well that means a lot coming from a double-oh, especially one without any proper missions under his belt." Fury's comment was cutting, but something underneath the surface told bond that this was probably the closest thing to a compliment he could expect to receive from the big man. "Regardless, I've had my people speak to M. Unfortunately I wasn't available at the time, it's been too long since I've had the chance to speak to her, how is she doing?" [color=0072bc]"Is 'good' ever the word to describe how M is doing?"[/color] "You make a fair point there, Bond. Regardless, I'm glad SHIELD is getting the opportunity to work with MI6 again. We've been far too insular over recent years." He tapped a few keys without looking and a large holographic image was projected just behind him. "We've got your agent simmering in a cell right now and we'll get our best men on extracting as much information from him as possible. I'm sure Agent Leiter already let slip just who these guys were working for." Felix looked nervous. Bond rushed to his defence. [color=0072bc]"Yes, I'm afraid it was pertinent to the mission at the time. HYDRA was it?"[/color] Fury shot a glance at Leiter that would send a panther scurrying away. "Correct, HYDRA, despite our efforts, seems to have returned. We aim to squeeze as much info out of our man as possible. Possibly set up a web of sources before they can close the gap. It's a good job you brought him back this has really given us a leg up." [color=0072bc]"I've got to say it was all Felix's doing, director. I was content to get out of there in one piece."[/color] He took a look at the screen, it was displaying a map of a city along with some scrolling text. [color=0072bc]"Although, if I could make a humble request - I was actually in Kowloon hunting the man hunting me. Scaramanga. I can only assume that HYDRA being so close behind him means they're working together. It might be in our mutual interest if you can squeeze any information out of him about my assassin and I can go and deal with my problem with a leg up."[/color] "Consider it done. Now, onto the matter at hand." Fury gestured towards the map. "M has given us permission to make you an honorary SHIELD agent, Bond. Congratulations, we don't normally allow limeys through the door." Bond smiled. [color=0072bc]"I can only assume this comes with some strings attached. Hows the pension plan?"[/color] "Fantastic. You'll be living in Cabo by the time your hair turns white. We've got a mission for you, one that fits your skillset rather than our usual branch. We need a scalpel for this, not a hammer." [color=0072bc]"Sounds interesting."[/color] "Oh it is, Mr. Bond." He reached into his coat, pulling out a brightly coloured strip of paper. "We've got you a ticket to the [i]Therapeutix Annual Gala[/i]. This years theme is superheroes. SHIELD needs a man on the ground, someone to take note of any important individuals you might see there - anyone that could be an asset or, worst case scenario - a threat." Bond smiled. There were far worse missions to go on than attending a party - especially one where the alcohol is free and not free of alcohol. [hr] [right]The Therapeutix Gala [@Cyrania][@King Kindred][@ThatDeercat][@mattmanganon][/right][hr] He'd suited up before he'd been dropped off inside his Aston Martin on the outskirts of New York City. He wore a midnight-blue Tom Ford suit tailored in London; a single-breasted jacket cut close through the waist, matching trousers pressed razor-sharp down the leg, a crisp white shirt and a dark navy silk tie secured with a subtle silver tie clip. The outfit was understated enough to disappear into a room full of billionaires, politicians and celebrities, yet cut well enough to be remembered afterwards. Bond considered that the hallmark of any good suit. It had been specially made to conceal his shoulder holster, along with having enough room to fight in - as were all of his suits provided by MI6. To go with this was a pair of clear contact lenses, the kind even the most acute eye couldn't detect on inspection. These served as a real-time HUD - spitting out information with facial recognition, heart-rate monitoring, building schematics, and a variety of other tools that would no doubt come in handy if the metaphorical shit hit the hypothetical fan. He pulled up to the door where a long queue had been forming, full to the brim of those dressed their best - in one way or another. Some in suits, some in costumes, some in both. He handed his keys off to the valet, and straightened the sleeves of his suit jacket as he stepped onto the lavish red carpet. One of the bouncers quickly unhooked a velvet rope to allow him through as the other stopped a short young chap wearing an ill-fitting tux at least 2 seasons out of fashion over his rather high-tech looking superhero costume from getting past. Bond shot him a wink as he was turned away despite his best efforts to argue otherwise. He avoided the pacing sentries of waiters expertly trained in their movements across the lavish space. He was never a big fan of champagne - or any sparkling or carbonated alcohols for that matter. And while the canapes did look delictable he refused any offered for fear of spoiling his breath. An event like this was just the place to make first impressions, and gather information - and one couldn't do either effectively with bad breath. Instead he manoeuvred his way over to the bar, taking a seat at the far end where he could keep one eye on the entrance and the other on the room itself. Old habits died hard. A man in his profession quickly learned that the best seats were rarely the most comfortable ones. The bartender looked up from polishing a crystal tumbler. "What can I get you, sir?" Bond took a moment to survey the impressive collection behind him. Scotch from the Highlands, cognac from France, bourbon from Kentucky and enough champagne to bankrupt a small country. [color=0072bc]"Any chance you've got haig and haig?"[/color] "Unfortunately not, sir. Although I commend your taste." [color=0072bc]"Ah, well then. When in Rome do as the Roman's do. How about a tumbler of Four Roses Single Barrel? Neat, please."[/color] "Not a problem." The glass arrived a moment later. Bond lifted it slightly, taking in the aroma before allowing himself a small sip. He slipped the bartender a nice tip, despite his objections that the bar was free. Bond had been in enough bars to know that keeping one of the staff sweet meant information was easy to come by, and more importantly, drink. No doubt he'd get preferential treatment once the bar started to become more busy. He let the conversation around him wash over him as naturally as the music. Politicians making promises they had no intention of keeping. Industrialists discussing markets. Scientists trying to explain their work to people far more interested in the food than the future of mankind. His contact lenses quietly went to work. He scanned the room, washing his vision over unimportant hero after unimportant hero. Most of them had very little information, and if any none of it was very interesting. Then he began searching for the businessmen. Names drifted across his vision, along with a surprising number of tax investigations. One gentleman currently explaining the finer points of renewable energy had apparently once attempted to steal a tank. He wondered if any of this was useful for SHIELD. Fury seemed much more concerned with getting a good look at some of the bigger heroes, none of which had been spotted yet. A movement at the opposite end of the bar caught his attention. Rather than because it drew any attention it was for the opposite reason, it was because it was so subtle. She was beautiful, with dark hair complimenting her mediterranean features and a stunning dress which was a deep shade of burgundy, the colour of old wine, cut elegantly without ever straying into extravagance. A pair of modest silver earrings and a matching bracelet completed the look. He watched her without watching her. She'd somehow managed to claim the only other stool at the bar with an unobstructed view of every entrance and exit to the ballroom. Better still, the mirror behind the bottles offered a reflection of almost the entire room without requiring her to turn around. Not many people thought like that. Bond allowed himself another sip of bourbon, studying her reflection rather than the woman herself. She wasn't chatting with anyone - other than ordering a drink. She wasn't scanning the room nervously either. She simply watched, taking the measure of the crowd with the sort of patience usually reserved for hunters. He zeroed in on her with his contact lenses - sending minute movements that began to scan her appearance. No match. None at all. Sure that made sense for some of the more masked heroes wandering around, but for someone with their entire face visible? The bartender wandered back over. "Another, sir?" Bond glanced down at his glass before nodding. [color=0072bc]"And whatever the lady's having."[/color] "Sorry, sir, which lady?" Bond looked back and she had disappeared. This night just got more curious by the minute. [color=0072bc]"Never mind."[/color] He picked up his drink after thanking the bartender and moved away from the bar.