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EVERYTHING or NOTHING -- A fan fiction starring Daniel Craig as James Bond 007
A couple of days ago, in the appriciation thread, I said I'd like to adapt the video game EoN into a fan fiction novel starring Daniel Craig, tailored to his strenghts. I was eager to do this, and decided to just start. I really didn't want to start with Ground Zero, as I wanted some more time to work on the story changes the Daniel Craig angle brings.
So I decided to, as a test, adapt the level 'The Kiss Kiss Club' to see if it works. I really like how it turned out, and think it works pretty well for Craig's tougher Bond.
I'm posting it on here, and would like some reactions: What did you think of the writing style, the changes, would you like me to adapt more of these levels? Just let me know something!
(be aware, because I might change things when I write the other chapters, I didn't really check through this, so some inconsistencies or typos might appear. Also, English isn't my first languange, so there might be a few grammar mistakes)
Chapter ??: Kiss Kiss
Bond forced the Aston Martin to a screeching halt in front of the low building, surrounded by high white walls. An iron fence, neatly decorated, was placed in the middle of the wall, and served as the entrance. Bond speeded out of the car, already equipped with his trusty Walther. Bond kicked the iron fence open, and entered what appeared to be a small courtyard. From the outside one might not even identify this as a nightclub. Bond suspected an exclusive guest list.
He was proven right when he moved to the front door, carefully concealing his handgun.
A voice spoke over an intercom. ‘You’re not on the list, beat it!’
Bond gave a daring look into the small camera mounted next to the door. ‘Get lost, or else I’ll have to call an ambulance.’
This wouldn’t work, and time was being wasted. Bond turned around, and quickly took in the environment. Almost immediately he noticed a balcony on the second floor, leading to an open door.
Bond reached inside the pocket of his suit. He had it with him: the grapple hook supplied by Q-Branch. He removed it, found a good position and fired the gun. The hook attached to the balcony, and Bond felt himself being pulled up. He quickly made his way to the balcony, and through the door into a big bedroom. Bond guessed it belonged to the owner, and the owner was a happy man. Sitting straight up on the bed was an attractive blonde, about 26 years of age, wearing a revealing night gown. She just looked at 007, a twinkle of interest in her eyes. Bond brought a finger to his mouth, signalling her to please stay quiet.
She raised one eyebrow, and then repeated the signal. Bond smiled, and left the room.
On the narrow landing, Bond stopped to orientate himself. He heard a soft voice singing somewhere in the building. ‘give me everything or nothing.’ That had to be Mya. If she was still singing, then at least she was alive.
Bond jumped back into action, following the narrow landing until he came to a small staircase leading down, into the night club probably. Bond moved past the staircase, and found a door marked ‘SECURITY’ around the corner. Bond tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he opened it. The room was filled with state of the art monitors, giving an angle on everything going on in the club. Bond had been lucky no camera’s where stationed in the bedroom and landing. A man monitoring the huge LCD screens turn around at the sound of the door opening. He noticed Bond entering, and recognized him as the man that was at the front door just a few minutes ago. ‘How did you get in here?’ the man yelled. Bond raised his shoulders. ‘The door was unlocked’ The man’s face changed into an angry grin as he charged at Bond. Bond picked up a bottle of champagne that had been stationed on a small wooden table, and threw it at the man. It hit him in the face, chards of glass cutting into his flesh, the costly liquid spilling over his suit. The man acted bewildered, moving both hands to his face, which had started bleeding extensively. A glass ashtray became Bond’s second weapon. He picked it up, ran over to the man, at hit him across the face with it. The man fell to the ground, barely conscious. ‘Want me to call that ambulance now?’ Bond quipped. The man didn’t respond. ‘…Til he fell in the arms of another extreme’ She’s still singing, but Bond had no way to know how soon Yayakov would reach her. Or did he? He quickly made his way over to the monitors, and checked. Mya was singing on a spacious podium in front of the mostly empty club. What a waste of talent! She was small, with an attractive, fit body. Her skin was the colour of creamed coffee, and her short her, falling just above her shoulders, was dyed blonde. She made a charming appearance, and Bond couldn’t help but be entangled by her for a few seconds. Then he noticed Yayakov, in one of the front seats, his shiny metal arm clearly visible. So he was already in the club, probably waiting for the song to end. And by the sounds of her notes, that wouldn’t take to long anymore. It sounded like she was building up to one last reach.
‘Hey! What the hell are you doing in here?’ A heavy, Russian accent. Yayakov’s men. Bond didn’t have time to waste. He picked up one of the keyboards in front of him, spun around, and threw it at the first man he got in his sights. It hit him in the chest, and the man was blown back into the wooden table, which shattered under his pressure. One down. Bond quickly established there where two more men, already reaching for their guns. Bond lurched forward, reaching the first of the men within seconds. He kicked him between the legs, and the man doubled over. But he was stronger as Bond has anticipated, and grabbed hold of Bond’s legs, pulling him down with him. They both fell on the floor, and Bond quickly tried to get up, but the man was already on top of him, hitting him in the face. Bond felt his head snap back as the man’s fist impacted. Bond’s hand reached for anything that could help him escape the situation. His hand found a chard of glass, broken off from the champagne bottle. He grabbed hold of it, and moved his hand towards the man. He stuck the sharp piece of glass into the man’s side twice, the left it there. The man released his grip on Bond, and brought his hands to the wound. Bond quickly jumped up, kicked the wooden leg of another wooden table, and hit the man across the head with it. The second man had meanwhile gotten his gun out. Bond used the wooden leg again to hit the man on his hands, the gun fell on the floor. The man tried to make a move towards Bond’s hands, to force the blunt weapon from them. But Bond moved around, circled the man and hit him in his side with his wooden weapon. Bond then hit the inside of the man’s knee with his foot, sending the man to the ground. Bond didn’t waste any more time as he released his P99 from it’s holster, ran onto the landing and jumped over the balustrade, making a tough landing on the floor below. He quickly got up, and sprinted down the hall, while he heard Mya bellowing out one last ‘NOOOTTHHHIIIIINGGGGGGG.’
Bond kicked open the door to the club, and found a calm but hostile situation. Yayakov had made his way over to Mya, and held a Beretta handgun to her head. Bond wondered why non of the guest appeared to be shocked by this, when he realised this was still a private club. All the guest here where invited by Yayakov to be there. This would make thing even more difficult. As soon as he had entered, some of them had gotten up, and pointed their guns at them. ‘As I was saying, thanks for joining me tonight at the final performance of our dear spy-turned-singer Mya Sterling’ Yayakov finished a speech he had apparently been giving, he then turned his attention to Bond. ‘Who are you, then?’
Bond gave a little smile. ‘The name’s Bond. James Bond.’
Mya used this distraction to force one of her high heels into Yayakov’s foot. The plumb man screamed in pain and agony, and she tried to wrestle herself free. But his grip was to strong. ‘You’re coming with me!’ Yayakov yelled. As he started dragging Mya back stage, he directed his henchmen ‘And please kill Mr. Bond for me!’
As the small crowd readied their weapons, Bond himself fired of one shot of his P99, hitting one of them in the chest. He then jumped backwards, toward a bar, while he fired another two shots. One of them hit the huge fish tank lining the wall, but the glass was to thick, and the shark behind it just swam by, menacing, but no thread at all. Meanwhile, Bond made a perfect landing behind the bar. He immediately noticed a shotgun hung from hinges below the counter, and grabbed it. It was loaded and ready to be used. Above him, bullets hit the glass counter, and it shattered into millions of pieces. Bullets also punctured the brick structure supporting the glass. Bond spotted a handle on the end of the bar, a small sign read ‘ceiling lights. PUSH DOWN GENTLY.’ A small grin appeared on 007’s face. He fired a couple of shots over the counter, then made a dive roll towards the handle. He pulled it down in one swift move, and heard the wires on the ceiling lights snap. The metal frame holding the lights came down, and crushed the goons underneath. Bond quickly got up, and finished off the last man standing with his shotgun. The impact of the hit sent the man flying into one of the supporting posts. The sound of an semi-automatic machine gun from above where followed by bullets impacting on the wooden floor. Bond made another roll to avoid the bullets, and kicked over one of the round tables for cover. He found his target on the second story walkway, and fired a couple of shots from the shotgun. One of them hit him in the chest, and he toppled over the railing, falling down on top of his buddies. Bond heard voices shouting, and footsteps running down the stairs. He decided it was time to move, and dropped the shotgun. He made a quick run over the floor, jumped the stage, and headed for the door to the backstage area.
Bond found another two guards in the spacious dressing room, and disposed of them quickly with his Walther P99 as he sped through it. He found himself in the maze of narrow halls behind the dressing room. Unsure where to go he waited until he heard a sound. ‘James!!!’ It was Mya, the sound seemed to come from the left, and was followed by the sickening sound of a punch. Bond quickly sped after them. The halls he ran through where empty, with the exception of the occasional cardboard boxes. The sound of a heavy door being opened gave him another clue as to which way to go. After that he followed the colder air, figuring Yayakov left the door open. After one last turn he found the heavy door marked ‘EMERGENCY EXIT’, and sprinted through it.
So I decided to, as a test, adapt the level 'The Kiss Kiss Club' to see if it works. I really like how it turned out, and think it works pretty well for Craig's tougher Bond.
I'm posting it on here, and would like some reactions: What did you think of the writing style, the changes, would you like me to adapt more of these levels? Just let me know something!
(be aware, because I might change things when I write the other chapters, I didn't really check through this, so some inconsistencies or typos might appear. Also, English isn't my first languange, so there might be a few grammar mistakes)
Chapter ??: Kiss Kiss
Bond forced the Aston Martin to a screeching halt in front of the low building, surrounded by high white walls. An iron fence, neatly decorated, was placed in the middle of the wall, and served as the entrance. Bond speeded out of the car, already equipped with his trusty Walther. Bond kicked the iron fence open, and entered what appeared to be a small courtyard. From the outside one might not even identify this as a nightclub. Bond suspected an exclusive guest list.
He was proven right when he moved to the front door, carefully concealing his handgun.
A voice spoke over an intercom. ‘You’re not on the list, beat it!’
Bond gave a daring look into the small camera mounted next to the door. ‘Get lost, or else I’ll have to call an ambulance.’
This wouldn’t work, and time was being wasted. Bond turned around, and quickly took in the environment. Almost immediately he noticed a balcony on the second floor, leading to an open door.
Bond reached inside the pocket of his suit. He had it with him: the grapple hook supplied by Q-Branch. He removed it, found a good position and fired the gun. The hook attached to the balcony, and Bond felt himself being pulled up. He quickly made his way to the balcony, and through the door into a big bedroom. Bond guessed it belonged to the owner, and the owner was a happy man. Sitting straight up on the bed was an attractive blonde, about 26 years of age, wearing a revealing night gown. She just looked at 007, a twinkle of interest in her eyes. Bond brought a finger to his mouth, signalling her to please stay quiet.
She raised one eyebrow, and then repeated the signal. Bond smiled, and left the room.
On the narrow landing, Bond stopped to orientate himself. He heard a soft voice singing somewhere in the building. ‘give me everything or nothing.’ That had to be Mya. If she was still singing, then at least she was alive.
Bond jumped back into action, following the narrow landing until he came to a small staircase leading down, into the night club probably. Bond moved past the staircase, and found a door marked ‘SECURITY’ around the corner. Bond tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he opened it. The room was filled with state of the art monitors, giving an angle on everything going on in the club. Bond had been lucky no camera’s where stationed in the bedroom and landing. A man monitoring the huge LCD screens turn around at the sound of the door opening. He noticed Bond entering, and recognized him as the man that was at the front door just a few minutes ago. ‘How did you get in here?’ the man yelled. Bond raised his shoulders. ‘The door was unlocked’ The man’s face changed into an angry grin as he charged at Bond. Bond picked up a bottle of champagne that had been stationed on a small wooden table, and threw it at the man. It hit him in the face, chards of glass cutting into his flesh, the costly liquid spilling over his suit. The man acted bewildered, moving both hands to his face, which had started bleeding extensively. A glass ashtray became Bond’s second weapon. He picked it up, ran over to the man, at hit him across the face with it. The man fell to the ground, barely conscious. ‘Want me to call that ambulance now?’ Bond quipped. The man didn’t respond. ‘…Til he fell in the arms of another extreme’ She’s still singing, but Bond had no way to know how soon Yayakov would reach her. Or did he? He quickly made his way over to the monitors, and checked. Mya was singing on a spacious podium in front of the mostly empty club. What a waste of talent! She was small, with an attractive, fit body. Her skin was the colour of creamed coffee, and her short her, falling just above her shoulders, was dyed blonde. She made a charming appearance, and Bond couldn’t help but be entangled by her for a few seconds. Then he noticed Yayakov, in one of the front seats, his shiny metal arm clearly visible. So he was already in the club, probably waiting for the song to end. And by the sounds of her notes, that wouldn’t take to long anymore. It sounded like she was building up to one last reach.
‘Hey! What the hell are you doing in here?’ A heavy, Russian accent. Yayakov’s men. Bond didn’t have time to waste. He picked up one of the keyboards in front of him, spun around, and threw it at the first man he got in his sights. It hit him in the chest, and the man was blown back into the wooden table, which shattered under his pressure. One down. Bond quickly established there where two more men, already reaching for their guns. Bond lurched forward, reaching the first of the men within seconds. He kicked him between the legs, and the man doubled over. But he was stronger as Bond has anticipated, and grabbed hold of Bond’s legs, pulling him down with him. They both fell on the floor, and Bond quickly tried to get up, but the man was already on top of him, hitting him in the face. Bond felt his head snap back as the man’s fist impacted. Bond’s hand reached for anything that could help him escape the situation. His hand found a chard of glass, broken off from the champagne bottle. He grabbed hold of it, and moved his hand towards the man. He stuck the sharp piece of glass into the man’s side twice, the left it there. The man released his grip on Bond, and brought his hands to the wound. Bond quickly jumped up, kicked the wooden leg of another wooden table, and hit the man across the head with it. The second man had meanwhile gotten his gun out. Bond used the wooden leg again to hit the man on his hands, the gun fell on the floor. The man tried to make a move towards Bond’s hands, to force the blunt weapon from them. But Bond moved around, circled the man and hit him in his side with his wooden weapon. Bond then hit the inside of the man’s knee with his foot, sending the man to the ground. Bond didn’t waste any more time as he released his P99 from it’s holster, ran onto the landing and jumped over the balustrade, making a tough landing on the floor below. He quickly got up, and sprinted down the hall, while he heard Mya bellowing out one last ‘NOOOTTHHHIIIIINGGGGGGG.’
Bond kicked open the door to the club, and found a calm but hostile situation. Yayakov had made his way over to Mya, and held a Beretta handgun to her head. Bond wondered why non of the guest appeared to be shocked by this, when he realised this was still a private club. All the guest here where invited by Yayakov to be there. This would make thing even more difficult. As soon as he had entered, some of them had gotten up, and pointed their guns at them. ‘As I was saying, thanks for joining me tonight at the final performance of our dear spy-turned-singer Mya Sterling’ Yayakov finished a speech he had apparently been giving, he then turned his attention to Bond. ‘Who are you, then?’
Bond gave a little smile. ‘The name’s Bond. James Bond.’
Mya used this distraction to force one of her high heels into Yayakov’s foot. The plumb man screamed in pain and agony, and she tried to wrestle herself free. But his grip was to strong. ‘You’re coming with me!’ Yayakov yelled. As he started dragging Mya back stage, he directed his henchmen ‘And please kill Mr. Bond for me!’
As the small crowd readied their weapons, Bond himself fired of one shot of his P99, hitting one of them in the chest. He then jumped backwards, toward a bar, while he fired another two shots. One of them hit the huge fish tank lining the wall, but the glass was to thick, and the shark behind it just swam by, menacing, but no thread at all. Meanwhile, Bond made a perfect landing behind the bar. He immediately noticed a shotgun hung from hinges below the counter, and grabbed it. It was loaded and ready to be used. Above him, bullets hit the glass counter, and it shattered into millions of pieces. Bullets also punctured the brick structure supporting the glass. Bond spotted a handle on the end of the bar, a small sign read ‘ceiling lights. PUSH DOWN GENTLY.’ A small grin appeared on 007’s face. He fired a couple of shots over the counter, then made a dive roll towards the handle. He pulled it down in one swift move, and heard the wires on the ceiling lights snap. The metal frame holding the lights came down, and crushed the goons underneath. Bond quickly got up, and finished off the last man standing with his shotgun. The impact of the hit sent the man flying into one of the supporting posts. The sound of an semi-automatic machine gun from above where followed by bullets impacting on the wooden floor. Bond made another roll to avoid the bullets, and kicked over one of the round tables for cover. He found his target on the second story walkway, and fired a couple of shots from the shotgun. One of them hit him in the chest, and he toppled over the railing, falling down on top of his buddies. Bond heard voices shouting, and footsteps running down the stairs. He decided it was time to move, and dropped the shotgun. He made a quick run over the floor, jumped the stage, and headed for the door to the backstage area.
Bond found another two guards in the spacious dressing room, and disposed of them quickly with his Walther P99 as he sped through it. He found himself in the maze of narrow halls behind the dressing room. Unsure where to go he waited until he heard a sound. ‘James!!!’ It was Mya, the sound seemed to come from the left, and was followed by the sickening sound of a punch. Bond quickly sped after them. The halls he ran through where empty, with the exception of the occasional cardboard boxes. The sound of a heavy door being opened gave him another clue as to which way to go. After that he followed the colder air, figuring Yayakov left the door open. After one last turn he found the heavy door marked ‘EMERGENCY EXIT’, and sprinted through it.
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