The Scarlet Creation – Chapter 1

A/N: AU remix of James Bond. Ichigo Kurosaki, Agent 007, is sent by Urahara on a mission to discover the identity of the supercriminal who has stolen two atomic bombs and is planning to use them for blackmail on a world scale.

This was originally written based on an idea that VirgilTheart had given me of a James Bond remix, and I had just watched the James Bond movie Thunderball, where they celebrated the festival Junkanoo in the Bahamas on Christmas night.

Ichigo is James Bond, of course. Orihime is a mix of Domino from Thunderball and Tracy from On His Majesty's Secret Service. And Aizen is a mix between Blofeld and Largo, the two major villains in Thunderball. Although it's a remix, I'm going to be modifying the plot substantially, so don't expect it to follow the story of either the movies or the books in any way. Especially, don't expect it to follow the sad ending of OHMSS. This will be mostly an adventure story/thriller but will include an IchiHime romance. There will be some mostly one-sided AiHime but nothing explicit. The romance will be slow-building and a side note to the main plot, so if you are looking for a pure romance this may not be the story for you.

The title of this story refers to the Bleach chapter where Soul Society discovers Aizen's plan to make the King's Key by destroying 100,000 souls in Karakura Town, with the destructive force of an atomic bomb.

Other characters: Sora will be Orihime's brother Major Derval (thanks to Zuko Halliwell for the correction), Rukia will be Paula (although I won't kill her off in this story), and Ishida will be Felix Leiter, Bond's good friend and sidekick from the CIA. Urahara is M, of course, and Yamamoto is the Home Secretary who is at one point willing to give into Aizen's blackmail. Szayel is the slimy atomic scientist working for the villains, and Ulquiorra and Grimmjow will make an appearance.

Warnings: Obviously, some OOCness as all the nakama are adults and much more worldly in this story than they are in Bleach.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach by Tite Kubo, or Thunderball , On His Majesty's Secret Service, or James Bond by Ian Fleming. I use quotes directly from Thunderball in several scenes in this story. All characters are 18 or older in this story.

(Originally posted 12/24/11.)

XxXxXxX

The tall, muscular young man with bright orange hair strode across the wide Nassau street in the tropical Bahamas heat toward the tall doors of the Grand Casino. Although it was December 25, Christmas Day, there was little indication of the holiday here other than strings of brightly colored lights. More attention was focused on the upcoming night when the traditional festival of Junkanoo would begin at 1 a.m. The man pushed open one of the vast double doors and walked into the sudden chill of the casino. Attired in a perfectly fitting tuxedo, he moved smoothly past the men and women glittering with heavy jewelry, hard brown eyes scanning the crowd. He paused to pluck a glass of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed by. Downing the drink, he moved forward once again.

At a roulette table, a beautiful young woman, clad in a shimmering black sheath that showed off her well-endowed figure and slender waist, sat perched on a stool, intently following the spin of the wheel. Her auburn hair, held back by two small blue star-shaped pins, hung halfway down her back in a heavy fall. She had a fat pile of hundred-dollar chips in front of her and a melancholy look in her eyes. A small frown creased her forehead. The roulette wheel slowed and stopped and the woman grimaced. The croupier cleared the layout of chips to assorted groans and laughter, then set up to spin the wheel again.

The man moved forward until he was standing directly across the table from her, and waited for her to look up and catch his eyes. After a moment, she did, gazing up at him with wide grey eyes and an apparently innocent face that was at odds with her outfit and what he had read of her in the dossier he had been given by Urahara a day or so ago.

"Bet on twenty-two," he advised her in a cool voice. She stared at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugged. In a defiant gesture, she slid her entire pile of chips forward onto the square marked "22." The man raised his orange eyebrows but said nothing. The wheel spun, lights glinting off the central shafts and the tiny, glittering ball. Everyone's eyes followed the ball, waiting as it seemed to take longer than usual to descend into its final position.

Then the croupier called out, "Twenty-two!" and a couple of people at the table applauded. The woman gave a sudden, cheerful smile that wiped away the brooding sadness in her eyes. She slid off the chair, looking up at the man with a quizzical but friendly air. She saw dark amber eyes, a scowling, cynical mouth, handsome features topped by a somewhat incongruous shock of bright orange hair, and a trim, muscular body clad in an expensive tuxedo. Another rich gambler come to play in the tropical paradise, she thought, but much better looking and younger than most. She grinned. "You've brought me luck, sir," she said. "Thank you. I was about to get in trouble there because I'd lost nearly all my stake and my, uh, guardian would have been angry."

The man gave her a half-bow. "May I buy you a drink, then?"

She gave him a level look from under thick lashes. "It seems I should buy you a drink, since I'm flush now."

"As you prefer," he murmured, gesturing for her to precede him up the stairs to the bar.

Seated at a shadowed, quiet table in the back corner of the cool, dim room, the young woman ordered a double Bloody Mary and the man a vodka and tonic. She looked him over carefully as they waited for their drinks. "So," she said, gazing at him levelly, "who are you and what made you decide to help me?"

"The name's Kurosaki. Ichigo Kurosaki," he said, "and I always believe in helping damsels in distress."

Her eyes widened. "Whatever made you think I was in distress?"

"You were losing," he pointed out.

She stared at him a moment, then laughed. "When did you arrive? I haven't seen you about."

"I got in this morning. From New York. I've come to look for a property. It struck me that now would be a good time to look, while there aren't so many millionaires out here bidding up the values. How long have you been here?"

"About six months. I came here in a yacht— the Las Noches. You may have seen her. She's anchored off the coast. You probably flew right over her coming in to land at the airport."

"That long, low, streamlined affair? She's yours? She's got beautiful lines."

"She belongs to my guardian." The grey eyes watched Ichigo's face, shadowed once more.

"Do you stay on board?" His voice was exquisitely polite.

"No, we've taken a beach property. Just opposite where the yacht is. It belongs to an Englishman who wants to sell it. It's very beautiful. And a long way away from the tourists, out on one of the keys." She toyed with one of her hairpins.

"That sounds like the sort of place I'm looking for."

"Well, we'll be gone in about a week."

"Oh." Ichigo looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She laughed. "You're quite different from all the old men around here, although they all try to hit on me too. There's no one under sixty in this place. Young people can't afford it. I imagine all the old women with blue hair will get all excited over you."

"Do they eat boiled vegetables for lunch?" He leaned forward, the hint of a scowl of distaste on his face.

"Yes, and drink carrot juice and prune juice." She frowned, her full lips turning downward.

"We won't get on, then," Ichigo said with a lazy smile. "I won't sink lower than conch chowder."

She looked at him suspiciously. "You seem to know a lot about Nassau."

He raised his eyebrows. "You mean about conch being an aphrodisiac? That's known wherever there are conchs."

"Is it true?" she asked, with a sudden return of that artless innocence that he had seen earlier, and he wondered again if it was an act, given her background.

He smiled. "Some people have it on their wedding night. I haven't found it to have any effect on me."

"Are you married?" She looked mischievous.

"No." Ichigo smiled across into her eyes. "Are you?"

"No."

"Then we might both try some conch soup sometime and see what happens." He held her gaze, still smiling. She looked away suddenly with a nervous laugh and Ichigo wondered again at the occasional awkward behavior she sometimes exhibited. She was either a superb actress or there was something else underneath her sophisticated veneer.

Their drinks came. Ichigo raised his to her and asked, "So how did you come here? Your English is excellent."

"My name's Orihime Inoue; I'm part Japanese by birth. But I was sent to school in England. My parents thought that was a ladylike way to be brought up. But then they were both killed in a car accident; my dad was driving drunk." A brief frown twisted her face. "After the lawsuits, my brother and I were left with nothing but huge debts. I was thrown out on my own to figure out a way to make a living." Her lips compressed briefly into a hard line. "I had to do what it took to survive." She looked at him defiantly. He gave her a nonjudgmental shrug and she continued. "I met my… guardian not long after that. In Capri. He's an attractive man, very confident and charismatic." She drew circles on the table with her fingertip, then met Ichigo's eyes again. "Anyway, he's here on a sort of treasure hunt."

Ichigo looked intrigued. "That sounds fascinating."

"Yes," she said, taking a large gulp of her drink. Her eyes were bright. "You must come and visit us on the yacht. His name is Aizen, Sousuke Aizen. You've probably heard of him. One of the richest men in the world, or so they say."

Ichigo gave a noncommittal shrug and smiled briefly. "I'd love to meet your guardian. Thanks for the invitation. The treasure hunt sounds rather fun. What's it all about? Have they found anything?"

It was her turn to shrug. "Who knows? He's very secretive about it. Apparently there's some kind of map, but I'm not allowed to see it. I have to go ashore whenever he's prospecting or whatever he does. A lot of people have put up money for it; I guess they're shareholders. They call themselves the Espada." She rolled her eyes. "They've all just arrived. I guess everything's finally ready and the real hunt is supposed to begin in a couple of days."

"What are they like, these shareholders?"

"A bunch of stuffy businessmen." She frowned. "Very dull and rich. They don't want to go sunbathing or anything, just spend all their time with Aizen. Plotting and planning, I suppose."

"It does sound rather boring for you," Ichigo said lightly. "What do you do all day?"

"Oh, not much. A bit of shopping, some gambling." She gave a brittle laugh. "I like underwater swimming. I have an aqualung and I like to go out and look at the reefs."

"I used to do that quite a bit," said Ichigo. "Maybe you could show me some of the good spots around here?"

Her eyes focused on something beyond Ichigo's shoulder and her body stiffened. "Maybe," she said, abruptly pushing her empty glass away. "I better go. My guardian will be looking for me." She stood up.

Ichigo stood as well. "It was nice to meet you," he said. She nodded and walked away rapidly. Ichigo shot a casual glance over his shoulder in the direction she had been looking. A slender man with shaggy black hair and brilliant green eyes was standing in the shadows, hands in the pockets of his white dress suit, his gaze on Orihime's back. Ichigo turned around before the man's gaze could meet his.

XxXxXxX

Only the day before but half a world away, Ichigo had been summoned back from his holiday into Urahara's office in London. The man was sitting behind his messy desk as usual, his shaggy hair in disarray under his silly green-and-white striped hat, looking out the window at the distant glittering fretwork of the London skyline. He glanced up. "Good; you're here, 007. Have a look at these." He slid some sheets of paper across the desk.

Ichigo sat down to look at the material. The top sheet showed the front and back of an addressed envelope that had been dusted for fingerprints. It was addressed to the Prime Minister, No. 10, Downing Street. The next sheet was the letter. He began to read.

Mr. Prime Minister:

You should be aware that as of 10 p.m. Greenwich Mean Time yesterday, December 23, a British aircraft carrying two atomic weapons is overdue on a training flight. This aircraft is now in the possession of this organization. The whereabouts of the aircraft and its weapons will be communicated to you in exchange for the equivalent of one hundred billion euros in gold bullion. Instructions for the delivery of the gold are contained in the attached memorandum.

Failure to accept these conditions within seven days, that is, by 5 p.m. GMT on December 31st, will have the following consequences. Immediately after that date a piece of property belonging to the Western Powers, valued at not less than one hundred billion euros, will be destroyed. There will be loss of life. If our demands are not met at that time, there will ensue, within 48 hours, without further warning, the destruction of a major city in an unspecified country of the world. There will be very great loss of life.

This is our final communication to you and to the President of the United States. We await your response.

Sincerely,

Hueco Mundo

The remainder of the packet contained lists of identifying numbers of the bombs and the aircraft, along with detailed instructions for delivery of the gold and a method to signal acquiescence to the terms. Ichigo looked up from the letter and blinked at Urahara.

"If the identification numbers on the bombs match, sir, I think this is the real thing, and not a hoax."

Urahara looked at him from under the brim of his hat. Ichigo noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and there were new lines on his face. "Yes. We think so too." He exhaled sharply. "The Home Secretary, Yamamoto, wants to agree to the demands. He doesn't want to risk the threat of nuclear weapons unleashed on the world."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "But if we give into this blackmail, sir, then no one will ever be safe. Every two-bit terrorist organization will start getting copycat ideas… and there are plenty of nuclear weapons scattered over the world in locations that might not be as secure as we like."

Urahara swiveled in his chair. "My feelings exactly. Which is why I'm putting all my best people on this case. We have to find and stop these people within the next few days, or the world will never be safe."

Ichigo glanced at the letter once again. "Do you have any information on this 'Hueco Mundo'?"

The blond grimaced. "Nobody's ever heard of them. We know there's a new, independent criminal organization working in Europe— they've been responsible for a couple of assassinations, the sale of some secret documents. We don't know their names, but it appears to be a very professional and ruthless organization. If it's the same one, they're a serious outfit, and I've informed the Home Secretary of this."

"What do you have to go on here?"

"Only a very slender thread. Really just a hunch. There's a Distant Early Warning radar plot that shows a plane turning off one of the east-west air channels over the Atlantic and heading towards the Bahamas. I put myself into the minds of Hueco Mundo—or rather, for there is certainly a mastermind behind this, into the mind of the leader of Hueco Mundo, my opposite number, so to speak, and I came to certain conclusions.

"The primary one is that the targets of these bombs are most likely in the United States. The Americans are rather more bomb-conscious than we are in Europe and so more susceptible to a threat of this type. The Bahamas, a group of largely uninhabited islands not too far off the coast of Florida, and possessed of much open area for a landing zone as well as being surrounded by shoal water and sand, lie within two hundred miles of the American coast and thus could provide a convenient base of operations."

Ichigo leaned back in his chair and frowned. "But don't you think this is too big an operation for an independent group? I'd guess it was more likely to be the Russians, who would love to get their hands on NATO equipment. All this Hueco Mundo blather could be window dressing."

Urahara shrugged. "It's just a hunch of mine, nothing more. I'll be sending a team to Russia as well. Any further comments?" He looked hard at Ichigo. "If not, I've got you booked on a flight to Nassau within the hour. You'll be a rich young man looking for some property in the islands. That'll give you plenty of excuses to poke around. You'll be meeting up with an operative from the CIA with a good set of communications and detection equipment. The Americans have more of that sort of machinery than we have. You've got a blank check on this one, 007. We're going all out to stop these people. And of course absolute secrecy. I don't have to warn you how severe the consequences could be if word gets out."

"Of course, sir." Ichigo stood up to go.

In Urahara's outer office, his personal assistant, a trim, dark-skinned woman with long purple hair, gave him a casual wave, her long, slender legs propped up on her desk as she filed her nails. Miss Yoruichi Shihoin looked every bit as laid back as Urahara, but was, like him, highly efficient, as Ichigo knew to his chagrin. He approached her desk.

"The old man looks rather in rough shape," he commented. "You better do something to take care of him, Shihoin."

The woman's grin faltered for a moment. "Don't worry," she asserted. "I've got it all under control. You just take care of yourself, all right, Kurosaki? This is a big one."

"Ah, it sounds like I'll just be sent on a wild goose chase." Ichigo gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm just planning to get a good tan and have some fun on the government's dime for a change." He sauntered out of the room.

XxXxXxX

A/N: If you liked this beginning, please let me know in a review.

Happy Holidays to everyone!