Vienna, Austria

0315 hours

It looked like the city was covered in a white shroud. Every rooftop of every building was blanketed with soft snow, and with the sudden drop of temperature a very thin layer of ice formed on top. Snow was not uncommon in Austria, but this level of cold was unprecedented in Vienna's history, especially for late March. It would be foolish for anyone to be out and about in this weather when they could be nestled safely by their firesides, taking shelter from the bitter winter that would not let its grip loosen on the changing of the seasons. Even more foolish would be to do so in the dead of night where there was not another soul to be found or a voice to be heard or any manner of reason to be wandering through the snow-covered streets.

Save, of course, for the ghosts.

A large, twenty-story building with glass-pane windows sat in a deserted area located somewhere between the downtown and financial districts. It had been several hours since closing and none remained there except for a handful of security guards, whose experience could be best surmised as being "gun-for-hires" to protect the offices during non-work hours. Due to their inexperience or ineptitude or their complete focus on a game of football (France v. Germany, 6-0) that had aired earlier that night, they were quite inebriated and unfocused from their guard duties.

This made 007's job much simpler. Fewer bodies meant fewer questions to be asked by the police or reprimands from M. Not that he would have any problem with these guards even if they had been ex-SAS or Spetsnaz and alerted to his presence, since his current assignment was mundane by comparison to others in the past.

He entered quietly through the roof, careful not to trip any of the alarms. At first he simply thought he was being clever, but there was a feeling gnawing at him that his entry had been too easy. The Vienna branch of the Amis Corporation was not a particularly well-established enterprise, especially considering that the building itself had only been constructed five months ago, but the means of his entry concerned the spy to great degree. It could be he tripped a silent alarm and didn't even know it. But no, he knew the signs of one like the back of his hand, that couldn't possibly be the case. In any event, he remained on his guard, drawing out his Walther PPK/S with the silencer attached and hoping he wouldn't need to use it. He treaded carefully down the corridors and around the darkened alcoves.

Eventually he came across an office with a solid brass knocker on the front, and above it was a golden name placard that read:

FRIEDHELM VAN DER DECKEN: SUPERVISING MANAGER

007 checked for traps by running a small metal rod through the cracks in the door frame, and felt nothing save for the lock itself. He took a moment to carefully lockpick the door and entered into Van Der Decken's office. He made his way over to the desk and started to rummage through the drawers until he found what he was looking for. Much of the information was negligible, information regarding contracts with other corporations and within the local government but nothing that appeared irregular. Still, he was careful enough to take pictures with the special camera-watch that Q branch had supplied him with; maybe they could discover something that he could not once they properly analyzed it.

He paused when he came across a red folder buried between other stacks of thick manila envelopes. In bold, black lettering the folder itself was titled:

OPERATION FARADAY

In his business, 007 knew it wasn't wise to jump to conclusions, but there was nothing in the briefing about any "Operation Faraday" as far as he was concerned. M had sent him to Vienna to obtain evidence of Amis having financial dealings with the "Sons of Stalin," a terrorist organization of Russian nationalists hoping to restore the Soviet Union and reignite the Cold War. So far, Van Der Decken was their closest link in the chain connecting Amis with the group, but this was the first he ever heard of anything concrete.

He opened the folder containing the image of a power station, of which the Amis Corporation owned many. Next to it was a typed letter that read:

V,

Faraday to continue as planned. K has made contact with Target Alpha and will commence at 04060630. Target Bravo will be handled at 04090200 by N. Target Charlie is TBD by order of B. Await forthcoming instructions from B.

Take care. Eyes everywhere.

- A

As soon as 007 finished reading the last line, a sound as loud as a car door slamming shut echoed through the room. The agent stood there for a moment in stunned silence before he felt pain in the left side of his chest. He looked down and saw that there was blood seeping through his coat and dripping onto the letter.

He looked up towards the door, and at the moment he saw a small, circular hole in the pristine wood of the door. Instinctively. he drew his Walther and was prepared to return fire, but before he had a chance to pull the trigger five more holes formed alongside the first one. Five more bullets joined the one lodged in his chest, causing the agent to slam against the wall behind him and slump down, dropping his weapon onto the floor.

He knew there was no way he was going to make it through this one. The intensity of the pain in his chest only increased and he knew he only had moments left to live. He reprimands himself for being so careless but makes peace with it in the same moment. He had been in the game long enough that he knew when the end was the end. Still, best to make it count for something.

Using what little strength he had left, he snapped a picture of the bloodied letter he had read and the data immediately went to MI6 headquarters in London. Unfortunately, he would not be returning along with it.

Though he lacked the strength to fight back, 007 attempted to grab his Walther, but by then his attacker had kicked open the door and entered the room, carefully maneuvering around the desk with his silenced SIG Sauer P226 in hand.

The gunman stepped closer with his pistol at the ready, taking in the sight of the mortally wounded agent lying against the wall. 007 looked up and recognized the man instantly from his briefing.

Friedhelm Van Der Decken was a man in his mid-forties with tufts of gray throughout his naturally short, reddish-brown hair. His features were very sullen, almost as if he were ill, yet his present circumstances suggested otherwise. He wore rounded spectacles with horned rims and had a cold detachment about him as he held the British agent at his mercy. The only unusually striking thing about him was a thin scar that ran diagonally over his right eyebrow.

"007," Van Der Decken remarked, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"And not... soon... enough," 007 said while coughing up blood, "Whatever it is you're planning, we know about Faraday now. MI6 will find a way to stop it and bring you bastards down."

"Faraday?" Van Der Decken laughed coldly, "Oh, Faraday should be the least of your worries now."

"My death gets you nothing, Van Der Decken," 007 retorted.

"Quite the contrary," Van Der Decken answered him, "Your death opens a door for us. Not only were we aware of the infiltration..."

He knelt down beside the dying agent, leaning close to his ear.

"... we engineered it," he said with a whisper. With that, he raised his pistol and fired a single bullet into the agent's skull, killing him instantaneously with barely so much as a whimper.

"Hmm," Van Der Decken remarked, standing up and unscrewing the silencer, "Hereinkommen."

At his word two guards entered wearing hazmat suits, and Van Der Decken said, "Don't worry about disposing of the body properly, MI6 is already aware of our intentions. Just make sure the local police are kept idle."

"Jawohl, Mein Herr," the two guards spoke simueltaneously, and they picked up 007's body and carried it out the door.

Van Der Decken turned and saw the bullet holes he had made in his own office door.

"Shame," he remarked, "I was rather fond of it. But business is business, I suppose."

Things were going exactly according to plan.

There was a firm knocking upon the door.

"Yes, come in," M flippantly remarked, perusing through perhaps a dozen different reports pertaining to matters of national security. For a brief time after the Berlin Wall came down he thought his career in espionage would be at an end. Oh, how wrong he was.

"Sir, this just came in from Station V," Moneypenny, holding an envelope in her right hand as she approached his desk. M grabbed the envelope and saw the cover read URGENT - FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.

Moneypenny turned on her heel and prepared to step out, but M spoke up and said "Stay a moment, Ms. Moneypenny."

Moneypenny froze in place and turned back around to face her boss.

"Sir?" she asked, wondering what he could want her for.

M didn't reply, but instead opened up the envelope slowly, wondering what news Station V had to tell him.

As he unfolded the letter, M started to read it silently before his eyes widened in what looked to be a mixture of disbelief and terror. He then ran a hand down his face and covered his mouth. Moneypenny, feeling a certain level of tension in the room, just stood there in silence and waited to hear whatever bad news M had just received.

"007 was killed last night," M told her, "Shot six times in the chest, once in the head. They found his body in a dumpster two blocks from the Vienna Volksoper."

From the tone of his voice one could imagine he was not feeling distressed in the slightest. His face said otherwise. Moneypenny also looked pale with horror over what they both just learned.

"007... he-" Moneypenny trailed off.

"Unfortunately, yes," M tried to regain his usual demeanor, "007 was a clever agent. No way he could've let himself get killed like that. Amis must've known we were coming."

"What do we do now?" Moneypenny asked him.

M sighed, and then directed his attention back to his desk and said, "I need you to set a meeting with MI5 and the Minister of Defense for this week. Meanwhile, we must continue on with our work as we always have."

Moneypenny blinked, not exactly feeling this was the right time to continue focusing on such delicate matters. Still, it wasn't out of character for M to be all about the job. She had worked for him for years now and understood how he operated.

"Sir," Moneypenny began, "Do you want me to notify... her?"

M looked up from his documents at Moneypenny, knowing what she meant.

"No..." M began slowly, "No, I will inform 006 myself. That will be all, Moneypenny."

Moneypenny left the room without another word. M picked up his phone and dialed in the number he wanted to call.

"006," he spoke into the phone, "I need you to come in. Alec Trevelyan is dead."