"LAND HO!" came a scream from the crow's nest.

The cheers and hollers from the crew and passengers roused James Bond from his drunken stupor. He shook himself awake a little more, tipping the bottle of rum leaning against him. How long had it been since they left England? Where were they again?

The HMS Victoria dropped the anchor and everyone was filing off, excited to touch real earth once again. Bond held back for a moment, taking a now tattered note from his jacket pocket. The slip of paper read:

007,

Your assignment is to travel to the Americas in

to hunt down American spy Rod Redline. He has

caused much trouble since America's independence,

and must be put down. He spends much of his

time on Ellis Island monitoring imports. Find him

and put an end to him.

Godspeed,

M

"Blimey, that's right…" Bond muttered to himself. His excessive drinking left his eight week stint on the boat blurry at best. He stumbled over to the off board ramp and barely made it down without falling flat on his face.

M had given him very little information about his target, only that he would stand out in a crowd. With this knowledge, Bond ventured forward into the United States.

Unfortunately, however, no one stood out. Uncountable plain white faces walked past him without giving him a second glance. Bond examined passersby for hints as to who could possibly be an American spy, but he was at a loss.

After wandering for an hour, the longest he'd been without a glug of rum since he'd set off on this damned mission, Bond gave up on his search. Dejected, angry, and worst of all, hungover, he leaned against a rusted heap of metal sitting at the edge of an alleyway.

Bond looked at the note again, but no new words revealed themselves to him. Just that same vague statement about Ellis Island. His head dropped to his hands, this was useless. He left his country, his life, Moneypenny… For this? He couldn't even find his target.

"Pardon me, fella. You're sitting on me."

Bond's head jerked up and his eyes darted around to see who had just spoken. But all he saw was the same flow of foot traffic ignoring his very existence.

"Who said that? Show yourself, damn you." Bond throated angrily.

"Down here. You're sittin' right on my nose," the voice came again.

Bond jumped up from his uncomfortable seat on the rusted metal. It was a carriage-like structure, but with an extended front end. The metal shook and contorted as their conversation continued.

"Who are you?" This was the first time Bond was ever concerned that his drinking habit was actually affecting his job performance. What the hell was he seeing?

"I'm Mater. Like tuh-mater, but without the tuh," the voice came again, now massive eyes opened where the front window should be.

Well, that definitely stands out… A talking machine, Bond thought. This must be the target assuming a fake name to throw him off the trail.

"The name's Bond. James Bond. British Intelligence." Bond responded, hoping for a flash of recognition in his target's eyes. But Mater's windshield eyes remained as glazed as ever as he took that information in. This bastard is good.

"Well hot dang, for British Intelligence, you sure did end up pretty darn tootin' lost. This is America!" Mater laughed.

"Yes, it's my… vacation." Bond improvised. Why did I tell him where I work? Damn my drunken mouth.

"Vacation! I know some great tourist spots, Jimmy!" Mater screamed in excitement. "Let me show y'all around!"

The two traveled throughout New York City, and Mater showed him all of his favourite spots. They spent most of the day meandering up and down the streets with Mater pointing out as much history as he could remember.

As the sun was beginning to set, Bond suggested a trip to the countryside, a chance to see the nature he'd never seen before, and it would be much easier to dispatch such a large body in a place without large groups of onlookers.

Bond rode in Mater on the way out of the city, fascinated by his inner workings. He appeared to be mechanical, but was able to speak and react like a true human. It was impressive to say the least.

After an hour of travel and idle chat, Bond was satisfied that they were far enough from civilization for the execution to be properly private. "Pull over," he commanded.

"Can do, Jimmy. What do ya need?" Mater said, veering off of the road and into a meadow of wildflowers.

"You, Mater. I need you." Bond uttered gruffly, grabbing a hold of Mater's gearshift. His fingers danced over it gently, and he could feel Mater's chassis shudder from the attention.

"Jimmy, you sly dog" chortled Mater softly.

Bond's soft touch turned into an iron grip on the gearshift and he quickly pulled Mater into park. Simultaneously with the other hand, he yanked the emergency brake. Mater was completely paralyzed.

He climbed out of the car's front door and stalked around to Mater's front bumper so they could look eye to eye.

"You thought you could outsmart me with a simple moniker, Rod Redline?" Bond taunted.

"Who's Monica?" Mater asked, terrified tears filling his eyes.

"Enough playing dumb! You are Rod Redline," barked Bond, usually his villains had him in the compromising position like this, so this was a lovely change of pace.

Bond reached into his coat pocket and took out some of the small hard candies they had purchased during their jaunt through the city. He popped one in his mouth as he began to saunter around Mater's frozen body. When he reached Mater's flank, he ripped out Mater's gas cap and tossed a handful of the candies down into the tank.

Mater screamed, ringing out through the darkness of the surrounding wilderness. As if in response, another cry echoed across the meadow. "KACHOOOOOOOOOW!"

A roar started to rumble from the distance. It sounded to Bond like Mater when he was driving, but louder... More powerful. And it was getting closer.

A streak of red came raced across the meadow, plowing directly into James Bond's chest with a sickening crunch of fibreglass bumper meeting bone.

"Lightning! I'm so glad you came!" Mater sniffled, trying to hide his tears.

"Kachow."

THE END