Prologue

M was replaced, of course, with Gareth Mallory, and much was changed. The departments were run stricter, new rules put into place, and the consequences worse than ever before. And then came the new agents, Clarence Barker and Emerald Jones. They were M's personal agents at MI6, as slippery and deceptive as snakes. Around M they were stone faced, heartless, but around the other agents they seemed almost normal. Barker was tall, of African descent, and a cocky sarcastic flirt, almost like Double O Seven himself, but never getting quite as lucky. Rumor had it he was 007's replacement, but surely nobody could replace 007? Bond didn't seem to care, but if he was getting replaced, then everyone must be.

Jones wasn't a replacement for anybody, she was just there, gorgeous and deadly. She acted young and flirty, using her looks to hide her dangerous motives. She was short, only around 5'5, with tan skin, long brown curly locks, and piercing emerald eyes. She was slim and curvy, with high cheeks bones and a button nose. Though she was only in her twenties-twenty seven, to be exact- it was clear she had seen, heard, and done things. She had the eyes of someone far beyond her years.

Not much was known about these two agents and their presence made everyone uncomfortable. Eyes darted around, always watching their backs. Old alliances broke and new ones formed. The air was always heavy with tension and unease, the black maw of fear and uncertainty clamping down on even the bravest agents. Fear of the unknown, fear of what horror they might face, fear for their lives. If M was going to replace them, there was no way he was doing it peacefully. He was going to use force. When you were an agent at MI6, the only way out was death or disappearance, though the first was more common.

The only agent who didn't seem concerned for his safety was Bond, James Bond. He was going to get to the bottom of this, and he was going to set things right, because that's what Bond did.

Chapter 1

My navy blue heels clicked and clacked on the white tile floors of MI6 headquarters, polished just enough so that the fluorescent lights overhead reflected in their surface. The MI6 agents pretended not to notice me walk by, but their heads ducked, bodies shrunk in, or they overcompensated for their fear and stood taller, acting brave. There were a few, however, who barely reacted at all, including Mr. Bond and his secretary Miss Eve Moneypenny. Bond winked at me as we passed each other, Moneypenny giving me a polite nod.

I simply nodded back, pretending not to have noticed the brief closing of one of Bond's mischievous blue eyes. Mr. Bond was indeed a handsome man; strong, intelligent, confident. He was smooth, seductive, and eager to get into every woman's pants, mind included but that wasn't going to happen. At least not yet.

I stepped into the main section of level five, walking past the maze of cubicles towards M's office. He had scheduled a meeting with Clarence and I at noon, which was odd because he always took his lunch break and exactly twelve thirty. Anything he needed to discuss with us before lunch had to be important. I could only hope it was for a mission. I was eager to get back on the field, as it had been almost a month since I had. In the last six months I'd only been on two. One right after M brought me over from America, and the second right after he took over MI6.

I was a former CIA agent in the United States, but M had suddenly taken an interest in me, so sudden and passionate he trades three Brittish agents just for me. It hadn't taken me long to figure out why.

When I reached M's office door, I knocked, and it was soon followed the deep "Come in" of M. I straightened out my navy blue blazer and brushed off my white skirt before walking in. M simply looked up at me, gesturing for me to sit in the seat beside Clarence. I could feel Clarence's brown eyes watching me as I took my seat, crossing my legs and folding my hands together, but I didn't acknowledge him. Contrary to popular belief, Clarence and I didn't get along very well. He was rude and arrogant, dangerously so. He thought he could go around doing and saying whatever he pleased, and whenever I tried to put him in his place it always ended in a scuffle. The score was about even right now.

"Right, now that you're both here," M started, pulling two manilla folders from a desk drawer and sliding them across the table to us. "Let's get this over with." his voice was quiet, eyes searching the bottom of the door for foot shadows.

He seemed calm, but it was clear he didn't want anybody else to know about this. What could be so important?

"I need these agents dead within eight weeks. Space them out appropriately and don't let anybody find any evidence of who did this. I want these kills quick and clean, with as little damage to the bodies as possible. Miss Jones, You're going to need a gun for this."

I fought to keep a scowl off my face. Knives were my forte, my weapon of choice, my trademark, and now he wanted me to use a gun? The only gun I had was a bulky pistol that made a lot of noise! I was the first to open my folder and look at it, my eyes scanning the page before going wide. The target was an MI6 agent. There was no evidence of the agent going rogue or working with another agency. Odd. I pulled the file closer and flipped through the other pages, each face staring back at me a face I had seen around the office. "But they're..."

M just nodded. "Yes, I know."

I just shook my head, completely bewildered. "But...why?" I knew M was planning on making changes, bringing in a few new agents, but this? I did know how to kill, expertly eve, but my job was to gather information and take down international threats. I was a spy, not an assassin, and now M assigned me this?

"We cannot trust that their loyalty lies with me. We're going to replace them."

I couldn't wrap my head around this. What the h*ll was M thinking? I ended up just sitting there with my mouth open, prepared to speak words that wouldn't form.

"Is there something wrong, Jones?" M asked me with a raised eyebrow. Something in his tone was threatening, warning me to just say okay and not argue.

I closed my mouth and the file, putting it in my blazer before sighing. "No, sir. Permission to be excused?"

"Permission granted."

I nodded and walked from the office, slipping back my mask of flirty confidence to hide my confusion. I needed to kill these five agents in eight weeks time, and no doubt Clarence had another five agents to take down. M said the transition would be quick and easy. Quick? Sure. Easy? Maybe. Tolerable? Not for someone with standards. Fortunate for me, I had no problem ignoring mine. What I couldn't ignore, though, was the fact that I now needed a gun.

I made my way down to the Quartermaster Division to look for one Q in particular. Mr. Bond's Q. He was supposed to be the best, and why should I have to settle for less? I walked up behind Q with a smirk, crossing my arms. "I've been looking for you." I told him, my voice low and almost taunting. I bit my lip as he turned around to face me, big brown eyes looking at me from behind his black framed glasses.

"Ah, Miss Jones." he said with a nod. "Is there something I could help you with?"

"Actually, there is." I reached out with my left hand and placed it on his shoulder, trailing my fingers lightly across his chest as I slowly walked around him. There was no one else around, so I was free to do as I pleased. "I need a gun, Q. Something small, silent, not flashes, easy to hide under a dress. A very revealing dress." I paused once I was behind him again, slowly wrapping my arms around his shoulders and resting my chin on one. I let the mental image of me in a skimpy dress sink in before continuing. "You think you could help me with that?" I said into his ear, my lips brushing against it. I could feel him tense up, though from unease or trying to remain calm I couldn't tell.

"Depends on what you need it for." he said, his voice not wavering in the slightest.

"For a mission, of course."

"Normally when an agent asks a Q for a weapon, they tell them what the mission is for so they have a better idea of what to supply you with."

"Well, sorry darling, but that information is for my eyes only."

"I see." he said with a brief nod. "When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow evening, please." I walked back around to face him, my hand traveling up his neck to hold up his chin. His dark, wavy hair flopped in his eyes and I brushed it away before releasing him. "Thanks, Q. I owe you one." He could take it however he wanted, but I most certainly didn't owe him anything.

"Getting a little cozy, are we?" a voice sounded from the doorway, a voice that belonged to none other than Bond himself.

A smirk curled up my lips as I glanced over my shoulder to watch Bond walk over to us, his strides long and with purpose. "Just business, Mr. Bond."

"Please, call me James."

"James is a bit informal, don't you think?"

"I have a feeling we'll know each other very well soon enough."

He was smirking, that flirty cocky smirk. I wanted to punch that d*mn smirk right off his face, but at the same time, it amused me, this game that he played. "I doubt that."

"I don't." He winked again, and I felt my smirk grow bigger.

"Do you mind?" Q interrupted with a shake of his head.

"Sorry, Mr..."

I expected him to finish my sentence with a name, but instead he said, "Q."

"Right, Q. I'm sure you've got a real name other than Q." I prompted, leaning towards him slightly. He didn't move, didn't flinch, just waited for me to get out of his space. "You don't want to tell me."

"No." he said with a smirk, and I backed up, nodding.

"Alright, suit yourself." I took another step back from the two men, tossing them a flirty smirk before turning on my heel and striding towards the glass door. "Goodbye Mr. Bond, Q. I'm sure we'll see each other quite soon."