Just a reminder and post of the new story, a bit of a teaser as well! Hope you all come and join me for the new story!

Hello, and Welcome to Second World: Deadman's Hand!

If you have not read Second World please go to my Writer's Page and begin there, if you have read it, you are in the right place!

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ!

Before I start, I want to say that this story contains a mixture of the movies and books from James Bond. They have many differences, of witch one will make an appearance in this chapter. This character is based on the BOOK not the movie, as the pair share nothing in common other than their name. So please do not be surprised by the LARGE differences.

Once again I own nothing! Just playing with someone else's toys!

READ! ENJOY! REVIEW! As it is the only form of payment any writer here expects!

Chapter 1

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps, and that is the truth. However it is also a city where very few ever take the time to look around, let alone up. If a resident of the city did it was a rarity, usually reserved for someone that had an unfortunate incident with one of the city pigeons.

For those that did take the time on their own to look up, there were untold splendors to behold. It had everything from world class architecture and views, to gleaming lights reflected inside glass canyons. It was a city filled with sights few cities could ever hope to compete with, especially at night.

But the fact that few below ever looked up was noted by a small group of individuals, a group whose livelihood depended on it, a group who saw the opportunity to raise their occupation to more… lofty… heights.

A dark figure detached itself from the deep shadows as the police helicopter continued its way toward the waterfront, nimbly avoiding obstacles in its path as it again joined with the shadows within the ledge that formed the perimeter of the building. As the figure settled into a kneeling position, it withdrew a palm sized object from a covered pocket and brought it up to its eye.

Carefully, the person scanned each of the windows across the way till its attention settled upon a single large piece of glass. With a flip of the thumb the figure cycled through different lenses; once satisfied it triggered the laser rangefinder confirming the distance.

It then withdrew several items from a small parcel and began to assemble a rifle like object. Moments later a projectile hurtled through the nighttime air and came to rest upon the opposite roof trailing a heavy line.

Once the shadow was sure the line was solidly affixed, it looked around quickly, backed up for a running start, sprinted forward, and hurled itself into open air. Immediately the shadow began to plunge toward the ground below. Its momentum changed with a sudden jerk as the line between it and the center of the line above transferred downward momentum to lateral, swinging the shadow's body across the road and to the appointed window.

As the shadow approached the wall, it reached a hand out and placed a spring loaded camming device into the space between the wall and the glass, depressing the trigger as it rammed home. With an almost inaudible 'click' the shadow's pendulum swing came to an end, locked just within arm's length of its target.

After a quick check of the glass for unexpected problems, the shadow went to work and was soon slithering its way inside and away from the sounds of the street far below.

Twenty minutes later the shadow made its way back out of the building by the same route, securing the window as it went, collapsing the camming device and swinging back toward the center of the line above.

Next the figure made quick work of the ascent to the line above with a hand over hand climb, then with a quick move brought their body to a sitting position.

The view was astounding, below the shadow an aurora of light pushed its way into the darkness then gave way to the blackness that was the harbor beyond where reflections from passing ships twinkled. The figure only pondered this sight for the barest of moments before moving again, this time to bring itself to a standing position on top of the suspended rope, then making its way easily back to the other building.

Lights on the van flared to life revealing an older woman, with long black hair, pale skin, and striking violet eyes. She was dressed in a dark pantsuit with a soft cream colored blouse. "Any trouble my dear?" she asked, in an almost bored tone.

After slamming the sliding door shut, the shadow reached up and pulled off its mask. The woman beneath was young, and beautiful; her skin sported a healthy tan and her dark eyes were bright and alert. "None, Miss." She then presented the woman with a box she withdrew from one of her jumpsuit's many pockets.

"Excellent." The elder woman took the box and opened it, gently. "I do enjoy a true Napoleon Brandy, and my friend Wilson has such fine taste," she said smiling at the bottle lying on the velvet inside. "Did you leave my card?"

"Yes Miss. Just as you said, inside his private office safe," the younger woman replied.

"Very good, Alex. You have done well in such a short amount of time…" The woman paused, her eyes locking on the younger woman's. "You could stay on here, you know? My organization could use someone with your… assets," she said with a seductive hiss, as she rubbed her palm across the young woman's thigh.

If the movement bothered Alex she didn't show it. "I'm sorry Miss, but I have other obligations," she replied.

The woman withdrew her hand, and spoke with a chuckle. "Once again I have lost out to a Bond…" She eyed the young woman in the reflected light from the street outside, "however this time it is not to the elder I think." She paused for a moment watching the young woman's reaction intently, then withdrew a letter from her small purse. "This arrived for you this afternoon, it seems our time together has come to an end for now. You may keep the equipment… consider it a gift, and please tell young Harry and his father they are welcome to visit any time." She then leaned forward capturing the girl's lips with her own. "As are you my dear."

As the woman sat back, she couldn't help but smile seeing that at least had got a reaction, as Alex's face turned bright red. Alex fumbled for the door handle, pulled it open and stumbled into the night air, while trying to force her voice to work. "I will be sure to tell him Miss Galore."

The older woman smiled at her widely. "Oh, you are no longer my student, so from now on you may call me by my first name, Pussy."

Harry's grin widened as he twisted the wheel violently to the right, feeling the underside of the boat skitter across the surface of the water for a moment before it suddenly began to find purchase, lurching hard toward the new direction its driver wished. If Harry had not been braced for it he may well have been tossed out of the powerful speed boat, but as it was he only slid a small distance in the seat till he was up against the side panel.

"Good!" said a voice next to him. "Did you feel the difference in the way the hull reacts compared to the V bottom?" it yelled.

Harry nodded, and yelled back, "It slid before the turn!"

"Exactly!" James yelled, his grin as wide as his son's. "It's not as much as an air boat, but not as likely to dig in and flip over as the V."

Harry nodded again. "And the tri-hull design lets you get up on top of the water faster, along with being more stable in calmer waters."

James shrugged. "For the most part," James yelled back over the scream of the motor. "It depends on the depth of the V and what they were designed for. A V tends to be more stable in rougher water if it has sufficient draw, especially with an inboard motor helping with the balance, which most have."

Harry thought about that for a moment, "Okay!"

"Take us back in. You can play a bit, but I'm sure they are waiting on us for lunch," James said, sitting back and enjoying the sun.

Twenty minutes later Harry was bringing the boat up to the dock, as a large bellied man stepped out of the house they had rented. He wore a well worn cowboy hat, a gun in a black holster and a large silver star on his chest.

Harry groaned when he saw him. "Dad, the sheriff is here… again," he said as James began to stir from his place in the back.

"I wonder what he wants now," James said, shaking his head in exasperation.

As he tied the boat to the dock, he addressed the man. "Sheriff Pepper, what can we do for you today?"

The Sherriff chuckled. "Well I like to keep tabs on my favorite secret agent, when he comes to town. Especially when he is causing a ruckus all up and down my bayou!"

James stepped up onto the deck and took the man's hand. "And if you can use it as an excuse to get out of the office…" he said.

The large man chuckled again. "Then so much the better. In all seriousness, though, I have gotten a few calls about someone tearing around in the bayou. I've assured them that it is nothing to worry about, but there are a lot more people living out here now, it's not as easy to wipe away things like it was the first time we met."

James nodded. "We're just about done. I just wanted to teach Harry a thing or two about handling a boat in tight areas, and this struck me as one of the better places to learn."

Sherriff Pepper watched as the young man worked inside the boat preparing it to be lifted out of the water on the cradle in the small boathouse. "So he's the future of your secret service? How old is he? Sixteen- seventeen?" the man asked.

"He just turned fourteen," James said.

The sheriff whistled softly. "You Limeys sure start them young! But I would have pegged him as being a little older."

James shrugged. "Harry's a special case… not all of our people are trained like him," James told the man, being quite honest. He knew the man well, and knew that he understood what should not be spoken of out of turn. He had even helped them cover up what had happened when James had run afoul of Mr. Big's men in this same bayou.

"A special case… Hmmm. He any good?" the Sherriff asked.

"Better than I expected…" James said, his voice giving some hint that he wasn't entirely happy with the assessment. "He's driven… More so than I would like sometimes."

The sheriff quirked his eyebrow up, as he pulled off his sunglasses and began to clean them as he continued to observe the boy. "He wants revenge for something, then?" he asked.

James shook his head. "Not as much as you would think… Not that I'm saying that isn't part of it. He is just so eager to please, he wants the approval of those he has come to see as his new family."

"So, you and that Leiter fella," the man said.

James sighed. "For someone I once thought of as oblivious you sure see a lot."

The larger man chuckled. "Maybe it's my age. I spend a lot more of my time observing than I did at one time. That and I play a lot more checkers. The star is more of an honorary thing now, I won the last election but I can't keep up with my deputies anymore. I think it may be time for me to hang it up," he said replacing his glasses and dusting off his sheriff's star. "The kids coming up are going to be something else. They're smarter, my own boy is one of them. He's an officer over in New Orleans, he's thinking about moving home and running for my office. I think he's tired of living in the city."

"Is he any good?" James asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

The man nodded. "Made detective two years after he joined the force, has a really good arrest record. Got married, nice girl, took some getting used to, she's colored… sorry, African American. Family's still trying to break me of that. Old habits." The man sighed. "They've got two kids, Amy's eight, and Jenney is six… both of them are beautiful. Took me a while to warm up to them but now I couldn't stand it if they didn't come visit every few weeks."

"Hmmm…" James said noncommittally.

The Sheriff shook himself out of his thoughts. "So… you've about finished teaching him to handle a boat?"

James nodded. "Yeah, he just needs some experience now. A couple of days more, then we'll head home."

The man nodded. "Alright, I'll keep the locals off your back for a couple more days."

"Thanks Sheriff," said James shaking the man's hand again.

"You take care, and teach that kid well," the sheriff replied as he began walking back up the dock.

Bill Weasley fought to keep his breathing even as he waited for his signal to move across the hallway. It had only been about three weeks since the last member of their team, Byron Sounders, had joined them. Thankfully it had been an easier integration than the one before him… there had only been two fistfights so far this time.

Mathers had been a surprise to say the least! It had been evident from the first moment he set foot at Skyfall that he was going to be trouble… and boy had they been right.

Mathers walked through the door with a massive chip on his shoulder, angry at everyone. It had taken almost two months before things had come to a head and instead of a fist fight a knife and a wand had become involved.

After that something new had been introduced to them all, boxing. Taking what ever grievance may have been involved to the ring, and it had worked too. Especially after one particularly brutal fight in the ring, when the history Mathers had with magical people came to light.

From that point on things had gotten better, at least until his partner had shown up.

Sounders had proved himself to be a match for the man at stealth, especially in the city, but he had also proved to be a match for the man in pure stubbornness. Both of them butting heads like a pair of bull centaurs after the same mate. It seemed like anything was fair game, food, schedules, weapons, even friends.

It had become so disruptive at one point that Granger, their trainer, had taken the matter into his own hands... or fists.

It had been quite a sight, as Granger systematically destroyed both men in the middle of the ring… at the same time. The man was an artist as he did so too, not only telling them the flaws in their form but in their character as well. How it was destroying what could be one of the finest teams it would have been his honor to train. How their own pig headed bigotry or inferiority issues were going to see him lose two people he had a hand in personally picking for the team thinking they could outgrow acting like little boys on a playground.

In the end both of the new recruits were beaten and bruised but showed some signs of putting the issues with each other behind them, at least for the moment, and being able to work together.

In the last week they had run these kill-house scenarios twice a day, and they seemed to be becoming a smooth addition to the team, but only time would tell.

But that was neither here nor there, as Granger would say. It was time for him to move.

Neville Longbottom stood back up from his bow as he received the next belt in his quest for a black belt, smiling widely at his grandmother, who was sitting at the edge of the room clapping for him. He then returned to his place with the other students as the rest of those advancing were called.

As he was saying goodbye to the other students his grandmother walked over to him to say with a smile, "I am quite proud of you, Neville. You have been working very hard to have progressed this far."

A man in his forties joined them. "You are quite right Mrs. Longbottom. It is even more impressive that he is not a member of the class the majority of the year! He and his friends must be quite dedicated."

"Thank you, Sensei," said Neville.

"I've told you before Neville, outside of class you can call me Mr. Tanner, or Bill if you prefer." Neville nodded, but didn't say anything. "I was quite pleased with his progress over the school year, the fact that he was ready for a progression test was a pleasant surprise. Even more so that he was ready for a second before he leaves to go back!"

Neville blushed slightly. "W-we exercise together every morning except Sunday, practice three nights a week, and have spars on Saturdays…"

The man chuckled. "Like I said, dedicated! I wish my other students were as well!"

The elder woman covered her mouth as she chuckled. "I believe much of his dedication comes from the fact the vast majority of those that he is practicing with are young women."

"GRAN!" Neville exclaimed.

"Oh-ho!" laughed Bill, "I can see how that could be quite the motivator!"

Turning a deeper red Neville turned away, walking toward the bathroom. "I-I'm going to go change," he said almost running away from the laughing pair.