1. Archangel: Act V, Scene 1
Bond and Irina walk out of Melissa Hutton’s downtown office. The meeting went very well: Melissa has been truly impressed with Irina’s natural beauty as soon as she walked through the door, dressed conservatively but tastefully in a Dolce&Gabbana cream-colored suit. On her part, Irina has been won over by Melissa’s warm and open manner, and by her description of life in the modeling business. The two women have concluded the meeting with Melissa giving Irina her business card, and the latter promising to give the whole idea some serious thoughts, and call Melissa immediately if she decides to give it a try. From Irina’s mood after the meeting, Bond feels that she has almost made up her mind, and that she will probably call Melissa back within the next day or two to say yes.
They get into Bond’s Aston Martin, and drive away. Irina relaxes in her seat, and for the first time, smiles at Bond.
Irina: Your friend is a very nice lady. Why did you break up with her?
Bond: We both didn’t want a long-term relationship. There was no break-up, really. We still see each other, as friends.
Irina: I want to thank you, James, for introducing me to her. I think maybe I’ll give modeling a try. It does sound rather glamorous.
Bond: You’re welcome, Irina. And personally, I think you will be a smash hit on the runways.
Then, they drive down the street in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. The sunroof of the Aston Martin is half open, letting in the cool London air. Suddenly, through the opening, both Bond and Irina can hear a humming sound, which grows louder and louder with every passing second.
Irina: James, what is that sound?
Bond (checking his rearview and side mirrors, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary): I don’t know, but it sounds like trouble.
As if to confirm Bond’s worst suspicions, just at that moment, something passes by overhead, flying across the face of the afternoon sun, casting strange, vulture-like shadows across the Vanquish’s dashboard. Irina looks up, and gasps. Bond looks up too, and what he sees makes his blood run cold. About a dozen sinister-looking, black, tiny aircrafts, each measuring only about 4 feet in length, are flying in a tight, triangular formation roughly 200 feet above the car.
Bond knows that he and Irina are in a desperate situation now, because he has recognized the birds of prey overhead: they are the latest offsprings of SWARM, a technology originally developed by the U.S’s DOD (Department Of Defense) in the late 1990’s. Each one is a remote-controlled assault aircraft, which can carry machine guns, small bombs, or is simply a flying bomb itself, filled with explosives. Each is guided by GPS signals broadcast from satellites, and the whole group is controlled by a leader, which serves as a relay hub that passes instructions from a remote command center to the flying drones, and the sensory data from the drones back to the center. These particular attackers that are now shadowing the Aston look like the newest, most lethal generation of drones, known as the Wolf Pack. Each machine, especially the leader (also called Alpha Wolf), is now equipped with much more AI hardware and software than the previous generations of SWARM drones, so the Wolf Pack can operate in a significantly more autonomous fashion than their predecessors. These machines, being so tiny, are much less expensive than the more well-known Predators, full-size remote-controlled aircrafts that took part in the Afghanistan War. Also, the fact that the Wolf Pack travel and attack as a group makes them deadlier than the Predators, because even if some are shot down, the rest of the group will continue to carry out their mission. Bond has always thought that the DOD alone has current working prototypes of this breed of techno-killers, but obviously, SPECTRE, with its deep pockets, has somehow gained access to the technology as well.
Bond: Archangel must have placed a tracking device on my car. He must be following our GPS signal, and controlling these birds.
Just as he finishes the sentence, a drone separates itself from the pack and, like a Japanese Zero aiming for an American carrier, performs a death-dive toward the Vanquish.
Irina: JAMES!!!
Bond mashes the accelerator to the floor, while jerking the steering wheel hard to the right. All 460 horses in the V12 engine kick in, pulling the car forward like a missile. Even so, the drone barely misses hitting the rear of the Vanquish, slamming into the road just a few feet behind the car. A huge explosion erupts, and its shock waves rock the Aston, causing Irina to scream.
Meanwhile, Archangel is watching the whole scene on a small LCD panel, mounted on the dash of his Audi S8, which is about a mile behind Bond’s car. The images that he sees are being transmitted by a camera located on the belly of Alpha Wolf. Now, he smiles, as his fingers dance on the touch-screen remote that is built into the armrest on his right. His instruction is transmitted via satellite to Alpha Wolf, which in turn relays it to one of drones in the phalanx behind it. The drone detaches from the group, and swoops down toward the Vanquish.
Bond (seeing the attack, yells at Irina): Take the wheel!!
Irina (in a panic): No, James, I can’t!
Bond : Yes, you can. For just a few seconds!
Irina leans over, and grabs the wheel, while Bond takes out the Walther, and points it upward in a two-handed grip. He shoots twice through the open sunroof, and the diving drone explodes a few feet above the car, disappearing in a blinding flash of light and a sound like a thunderclap, raining debris down around the silver Aston.
Archangel: Nice shooting, Bond. But let’s see how you handle this…
He taps a few keys, and now three drones separate from the pack. They drop down until they are flying only a few feet off the ground, and converge on the Aston in a three-pronged attack, with two coming in from both sides, and the remaining drone heading straight toward the tailpipe.
Irina: James, do something!!!
Bond desperately looks up toward the Alpha Wolf, knowing that his only chance to stop the death strike is to take out the leader. However, Alpha Wolf is intelligently flying above its platoon, thus giving Bond no shot at all. Bond braces himself for the moment that the pincer of death would reach the Aston, and the ensuing explosion that would end it all, and reaches for Irina’s hand. Irina, however, has one last card to play. She leans out the window, raising her arms toward Alpha Wolf, screaming:
No!!! Archangel, PLEASE, NO!!!
As Archangel sees Irina on his monitor, his eyes widen in surprise, and his hand freezes in mid-air over the keypad. Then, he furiously types in another instruction. The three drones surrounding the Aston immediately break off their attack, and return to the pack.
Then, Irina’s cell phone rings. She answers it :”Hello?”
With a trembling hand, she hands the phone to Bond.
Irina: It’s him. Archangel. He wants to talk to you.
Bond: (speaking into the phone) What do you want?
Archangel: You have a nasty habit of taking my women away from me, Bond. Ashlyn and I had been together for 10 years, and you turned her against me. It is you who killed her. And now, you are trying to steal my Irina from me.
Bond: She was never yours, Archangel.
Archangel: Oh, she’s mine all right, whether she realizes it or not. (He laughs bitterly). You know, Bond, the only thing that saved you from being blown to bits is the fact that Irina is in the car. Funny, isn’t it? I have been with dozens of beautiful women, and I would never have thought twice about killing any of them if necessary. But somehow, this one is different …
His voice trails off, and when he speaks again, it changes to a hard, cutting tone.
Archangel: No more sentimentality. It’s killing time. I’m giving you two choices, Bond. One, face me like a man, and I’ll let Irina live. Two, refuse, and I’ll unleash the Wolves again, killing her too. What’s it going to be?
Bond: Just name the place. I’ll be there, you son-of-a b i t c h!
Archangel: That’s the spirit. The old car factory, in 30 minutes. (He hangs up).
Irina: What’s going on, James? What does he want?
Bond: He wants me. Listen, I’ll drop you off at Headquarters. Ask Robinson to arrange for a team to escort you home.
Irina: And what will you do?
Bond (his face now as hard as stone): I have to face him, in the old factory on the East side. Get it over with, once and for all.
Irina: No, James, please don’t go! He’ll kill you.
Bond: Don’t worry, Irina. I can handle myself. After this is all over, I’ll swing by your place, and we’ll have dinner together. How’s that? (He winks at her).
Irina seems to calm down somewhat. She doesn’t protest as Bond drops her off at MI6 HQ, then speeds off toward the other side of the city.
2. Archangel: Act V, Scene 2
Archangel sits waiting for Bond in the dark, while smoking a cigarette. His H&K lies across his lap. Suddenly, from outside comes the sound of a car approaching the deserted factory. Archangel snuffs out the cigarette, clicks off the safety on his gun, walks to the window, and looks outside. Bond’s Aston Martin is parked just outside the main entrance.
Archangel crouches low, taking up position behind some barrels. He keeps his gun pointed squarely at the front door of the factory. “Come on, Bond”, he whispers, “what are you waiting for?”
As the words die away into the surrounding silence, the door flies open. Bond comes in low, rolling on the ground. That’s what saves him, as Archangel lets off a burst of bullets that passes just above his head. As Bond’s body stops rolling, he returns fire. Archangel has to duck, as Bond’s shots slam into the barrels behind him. Some barrels are empty, but some contain gasoline, which now flows out of the bullet holes, onto the floor. Archangel realizes his precarious position, so he stands up, letting fly a volley of covering fire, and runs toward a row of metal racks holding some heavy machinery and tools, behind which he now takes cover. Bond takes a couple of shots at Archangel while the latter is on the run, but misses. Now, the whole building is quiet, as the echoes of the gunshots gradually fade away.
Archangel inches along the aisle of metal tools, taking deep breaths to bring his heartrate down. As he nears the end of the aisle, Bond jumps out from around the corner. Both men squeeze their triggers at the same time, and both guns make loud, clicking sounds. They have both used up their magazines during the first furious minutes of the gunfight.
Grinning, Archangel tosses his gun on the ground. Bond also does the same.
Archangel: It looks like I’ll have to kill you the old-fashioned way. With my bare hands.
Bond: Go for it. I’m right here.
Archangel: Do you know muay thai, Bond?
He shifts into the stance of a Thai kickboxer. Bond realizes he’ll have to be extra careful, because Thai kickboxers are among the most lethal fighters in the world. They can strike and kill not only with their hands and feet, but also with their elbows and knees.
Now, Archangel feints with the left hand, then launches a hard right at Bond’s head. Bond ducks, but still takes a glancing blow on his shoulder, sending him staggering backward. Even though he is of a slim build, Archangel hits like a truck, because he knows how to get the maximum leverage out of his body. He closes in on Bond, and unleashes a furious combination using both fists and elbows. However, Bond is a good boxer, with good defensive skills. He takes most of the punishment on his arms. Still, Bond knows he has to watch out for Archangel’s knees. In his mind, he can remember his hand-to-hand combat instructor, a small, wiry man, telling him: “When fighting a muay thai fighter, and he gets in close to you, watch for the flying knee. If he lands one on you, the game’s over.” Just as Bond is thinking this, Archangel tries this deadly strike on him: he leans on Bond’s shoulder, and jumps up with his right knee raised high, aiming for Bond’s chin. Bond uses a double-arm block to parry the blow, but its force pushes him backward. Archangel charges straight ahead, not intending to allow Bond any time to regroup.
Bond realizes that Archangel is an extremely aggressive fighter, and as such, may be vulnerable to a good counter-attack. So, he bides his time, blocking his enemy’s blows with his arms, and watching for an opening in the man’s defense. When he sees it, Bond strikes quickly. His right hand comes up, fingers extended, to deliver a knife-hand strike to Archangel’s throat. The blow catches Archangel by surprise, causing him to choke, and bring his hands down to clutch his throat. Bond seizes the opportunity to land two hard blows, a left hook-right hook combination, on his opponent’s head. Stunned, Archangel drops to his knees, while a trickle of blood appears at the corner of his mouth.
With Bond closing in to finish him off, Archangel realizes that he is about to lose, and decides to throw the notion of a fair fight out the window. Flicking his wrists, he lets the two knives concealed in his sleeves fall to his hands, and jabs hard upward with one of them. Bond was careful in his approach, so he sees the knife in time, and jumps out of the way; otherwise, he would have been gutted.
Archangel now charges forward again, with the knives giving him more confidence. He slashes at Bond with both hands, and it takes all of 007’s skills to avoid these vicious attacks. However, Bond is at a terrible disadvantage, and finally, the end comes quickly and violently. Archangel lunges at him with the knife in his left hand, and when Bond is preoccupied with avoiding this blow, the mercenary sticks his other knife in Bond’s side.
The pain is so intense that Bond is almost blinded. Gasping, he falls to the ground. He stares at the knife sticking out of his side, seeing his life oozing out of him in a stream of thick, dark blood. Bond knows he is dying because now his life starts flashing past his mind’s eye in a series of disjointed images. He sees his wedding day, with Tracy smiling at him through her white veil. Then, it is Elektra’s turn, lying lifeless under him, with his bullet inside her. Other images come: Honey Rider on the beach, a bloodied Felix Leiter, Korean guards putting poisonous scorpions on him, Melina Havelock’s body glowing during their moonlight swim, amidst the underwater Corinthian columns. A kaleidoscope of interweaving heavenly and hellish images. “Oh Tracy! I’m coming!”, Bond finds himself thinking. Although he has never believed in it, he now actually sees the proverbial tunnel bathed in white light open up in front of him, and walks toward it. But yet, something is holding him back, not letting him go all the way into the light. He still has one more thing to do…
Archangel stands over him, gloating:
You know, Bond, you gave me a good fight, but now it’s time for you to die. I’m going to do to you exactly what I did to my commander in Siberia.
He walks toward a gleaming, wicked-looking chainsaw hanging from a hook on a wall full of metal tools.
Archangel: I cut off his arms first, then his legs. He was still screaming when I went to work on his head.
ARCHANGEL!!!
Hearing his name, Archangel turns around. His eyes grow wide in astonishment, as he sees Bond getting up from the floor. Nobody has gotten up after taking a knife strike from him; they would just lie there and bleed to death.
Now, Bond, ignoring the searing pain, agonizingly pulls Archangel’s knife out of his side. He holds it up, slick with his blood, while Archangel stares at him in shock. Then, gathering up all the energy he has left, Bond throws the knife at his nemesis. The deadly instrument whizzes through the air, and slices into Archangel’s neck, severing his carotid artery, and drawing his blood out to mix with Bond’s. The Russian makes gurgling sounds, and falls to his knees, his hands grabbing futilely at the knife.
Slowly and painfully, Bond walks up to him. Fighting hard not to show the agony that rages through his body, Bond calmly takes his cigarette case, pulls out a cigarette, and lights it. He takes a long, slow puff, then looks down at Archangel and says:
You know what your problem is, Archangel? You…have…no…STYLE!
With that, Bond flicks the cigarette toward a stream of gasoline on the floor. Then, he turns away, and wills himself to ignore the pain and casually walk out the front door, while the gas catches on fire, and flames start to spread quickly along the rivulets of gas to all corners of the factory. Archangel’s eyes open so wide they almost seem ready to pop out of his head, as he watches the flames rising around him. He wants to scream, but only these wet, gurgling sounds come. He wants to get up and run, but with his interior carotid artery already cut off, blood can no longer flow to his brain, and his body no longer obeys the commands from his head. So he remains on his knees, helplessly watching the agent of his destruction creeping up all around him.
When Bond has taken a dozen steps outside, the whole factory explodes behind him in an apocalyptic sea of fire and smoke. The sound is like thunder, but Bond can hardly hear it. Through a haze of smoke and pain, Bond sees what he knows must be a mirage: the image of Irina running toward him. Still, he staggers toward her, and when he finally reaches her, collapses into her arms.
3. Archangel: Act V, Scene 3
(Three months later)
Bond wakes up to the sound of birds singing outside his window. He is lying on what looks like a hospital bed, with crisp, clean sheets, and the whole room is bathed in warm sunlight.
Hey you!
Bond turns toward the voice. Irina is sitting in a chair next to his bed, and she is smiling at him.
Bond (not bothering to conceal the pleasure he feels at seeing her): Irina! How long have you been here?
Irina: I came in about half an hour ago. (Now she comes to sit down on his bed, and holds his hand). Welcome back to the land of the living, James.
Bond: How long was I gone?
Irina: Three months. The first week was touch-and-go. I thought that I was going to lose you for sure. The doctors really had to fight hard to save you. Then you stabilized, but stayed in a coma, until just recently.
Bond: Three months! My God, I didn’t realize…
Irina (excitedly): Look! I want to show you something. (She pulls out a page cut from the London Times, and proudly holds it before Bond’s eyes. The headline at the top of the page proclaims: “The latest collection from Cavalli is a hit.” Below that, there is a color picture of a couple of models walking down a runway; one of the models is clearly Irina.)
Bond (smiling, and feeling just as proud as Irina herself): Congratulations! You looked incredible.
Irina (beaming): It was my first show, and it was so nerve-wracking. But a lot of people told me afterward that I was one of the best models in the show. Imagine that…
Bond: I always knew you could do it, Irina.
Irina: I owe it all to you, James. And I’m going to make it up to you. The doctors say you can leave the hospital tomorrow, so I’m going to make you a home-cooked meal tomorrow night, and you’re going to spend the night at my place.
Bone: (smiling teasingly) Spend the night with you? My darling Irina, I am just a poor civil servant.
Irina: (bending down to kiss him) Oh no, James! You are much, much more than that… to me!
[align=center]THE END[/align]
