Read My Shorts

Beretta

Beretta

"Good morning Mr Bond. Is that a Beretta in your pocket or are you pleased to see me?" The man holding the pistol gestured Bond away from his desk where the spy had been rifling through the drawers, and motioned for him to raise his hands above his head as several armed men walked into the large office.

“Miss Tique, would you mind joining us and relieving 007 of his ‘lady’s gun’ please?”

Bond’s eyes widened as a woman walked into the room. Her hair piled high up on her head, she wore a figure hugging catsuit, and there was little left to the imagination. Bond smiled broadly in appreciation.

She performed a perfunctory check of his person, patting down his clothes with practised ease, and one slender hand dipped into his jacket pocket. “A cigarette case, lighter and a Beretta 418: skeleton grip, polished frame, threaded barrel. It would appear he’s not pleased to see you Professor.”

“I am pleased to see you however,” noted Bond, turning on the charm. “Miss Tique eh? I would kiss your hand madam, but your illustrious leader seems to have me somewhat indisposed to the niceties at present.” He glanced down the length of the tightly clad form and smiled. “I see you have no weapons about your person, I assume this means you are far more dangerous than he is?”

The girl ignored the question, and dropped the lighter and cigarettes back into his pocket. Turning, she placed the Beretta on the desk, moving to stand next to the Professor.

“So Mr Bond, what brings you here to my mountain? I can only assume you got lost while hiking or maybe you’ve developed an unhealthy interest in mountain goats?”

“Well Professor. I had hoped you would direct me to where you’re holding some secret information stolen from the British Government. We don’t mind your petty dabbling in black market firearms, but stealing British military secrets is one step too far old boy. However, at present, it would appear you have me at somewhat of a disadvantage.”

“Of course I do Mr Bond, you see I know all about you. You and of course your accomplice.” The man casually backhanded the girl across the face sending her tumbling to the ground. “Miss Moneypenny, please go and join Mr Bond with your hands raised. Do not move Mr Bond.” Instinctively Bond had moved to help his colleague but the professor’s curt tone cut him off. “The British secret service should really learn to use less obvious operatives.”

“You should not hit women,” stated Bond flatly.

“Why the hell not? She’s a spy, the same as you, and spies should be shot. What are you doing now?” The Professor’s pistol twitched as Bond dipped one hand to his jacket pocket.

“I was wondering whether Miss Moneypenny would like a cigarette? May I?”

“Who am I to deny a soon to be dead man’s last wish?” crowed the Professor.

“Miss Moneypenny, would you like a cigarette? They’re Q tipped.”

Moneypenny rubbed her jaw and smiled grimly. “I’d love one James, thank you.”

“Do you still have the little present I gave you last time I visited London? I’d love to see it again.”

“I do James, I will show it to you when I next get the opportunity.”

The Professor coughed. “When you two love birds have quite finished? I would rather like to kill you both and get on with the day you know…”

Bond lit the two cigarettes and passed her one, a faint smile playing across his lips, which she returned.

Both turned, took a deep draw on their cigarette and the two hitmen who’d accompanied the professor into the office hit the floor groaning as the concealed darts took effect. As the professor turned in stunned amazement, Moneypenny reached into her hairdo and pulled out her Beretta, a single shot slamming neatly into the professor’s right arm, his pistol falling to the floor from nerveless fingers.

Bond lunged toward the desk, grabbed his own firearm and rapidly finished off the two groaning henchmen, turning with a grin to his companion.

“Didn’t your mother tell you never to hit a woman, professor?” she asked as she stalked toward him. “And no, professor, I’m not pleased to see you either.” The Beretta raised and a single shot punched into his temple.

“Neatly done Moneypenny, your aim is exemplary as always, and I’m suddenly rather glad I gave you such a finely machined birthday present. Shall we find the documents and make haste?”

“I think we should James.”

“Good stuff, then later on you can show me where you’ve hidden your silencer.”

~~~ The End ~~~

Done for the Grand Prix Challenge run by Challenge Corner in The Pub.

First round was to write an 800 word (ish) action story (no more than one wattpad page) with the theme 'Beretta' with the sub-theme of arms dealers and the black market.

This one is 777 words and for some reason I ended up doing a James Bond fanfic as I remembered a line in Dr No. (I think) where Q had demanded Bond's 'Lady's Gun' from him stating that the Beretta was a toy and he needed something with a little more stopping power, which is when he started using the Walther PPK.