Who? James Bond, John Mitchell (oe) & Q Where? Outside Mitchell’s pub When? Monday, before the storm What? Bond & Mitchell’s dispute takes a violent turn. Rating? High for violence. Open? No Status? Logged, complete.
The level of unease that James felt around Mitchell had continued to grow. He had hoped that by keeping a close eye on his movements that he would find his concern to be lessened, but it had had the opposite effect.
He knew that Mitchell had been talking with Dr Banner, and he had been up to his clinic a few times- he didn’t know why. Rooting through the documents on Bruce’s laptop hadn’t offered him any answers-
But things had gotten worse from there. He knew that Mitchell was drinking blood again. Perhaps he could have let it go when it was Laura or Maryanne, but he’d seen the bite marks on Ana’s neck. She was just a human- Mitchell had stepped over the line and he was a danger. His instincts had been right. He had to be stopped.
With his gun in it’s holster, and a couple of other deadly gadgets about his person, James had headed straight for the pub, finding it lacking a certain vampire. So he waited, lurking around the corner of the building, watching for him. He would stop him. He would make him stop.
oooOOOooo
The sun was still too bright to leave the house without a pair of sunglasses or a cap. Mitchell had chosen both today. The cap was hiding a good deal of his face as he walked the few steps to his pub. He was tense. And he got tenser with every step until he stopped a few feet away from his pub. Something was wrong - wronger than it normally was.
He wasn’t in a goddamn bathroom, he wasn’t even in his house anymore. It couldn’t happen here and it nothing else could happen, could it? Bond had to attack him first. Bond was the one who would kill him - so what the fuck was going on?
oooOOOooo
James wasn’t messing around. It seemed like the closer to Mitchell he got, the clearer things became. He had to stop him. That was the mission. It was a simple enough one, he had to find out what he was planning, and if necessary, he had to kill him as quickly as possible. James stepped out from behind the building, his body tensed and ready for confrontation, fingers clenching his hands into instant fists. This was never going to be easy.
He reached out, grabbed onto Mitchell’s wrist, his other arm lifting to elbow Mitchell’s opposite shoulder. His leg hooked around Mitchell’s, kicking the back of his heel to knock his leg out from under him. The whole move took a matter of seconds, leaving Mitchell dangling where James still gripped onto his wrist.
“What are you planning?” he asked him, gripping onto his arm, making it clear that he could break it instantly if he had to.
oooOOOooo
He couldn't react, goods normally so sharp senses, his quick reflexes forsake him. Mitchell suddenly found himself a lot closer to the ground than he had intended to be with his arm in a most awkward position. And then he heard Bond's and it achieved what it had achieved for the last few days. He was angry. Fucking angry.
"You have no idea who you are messing with, Bond. I'll only tell you this once: let me go! Now! If you won't I will stop being nice," Mitchell growled. If Bond practically begged him to kill him, who was he to deny him the wish?
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“I know exactly who I am messing with,” he hissed at him, pressing at Mitchell’s elbow, pushing it roughly in the wrong direction, just to let him know that he could and would break it if he had to. “I don’t respond well to threats, Mitchell,” he told him, surprisingly calm despite the gravity of the situation.
“I know what you’re doing. I told you, I warned you- as long as you’re clean, we have no problem here. But I know you’re not. I know about the blood. So tell me- why? What are you planning?” he asked him again, pressing down on his arm.
oooOOOooo
Mitchell chuckled dryly. Wasn't it fucking ironic that Bond called him out on the one thing he had made him do in the first place? He hadn't wanted to go on the fucking blood? That was Bond's fault!
"Just leave me the fuck alone!" He grimaced through the pain in his arm. He tried to throw Bond off. He was stronger than the other man, by far. He just needed to ignore the pain. Fucking agent and his skills.
oooOOOooo
“I can’t do that, Mitchell!” he shouted at him, and he really meant it. He couldn’t let Mitchell get away with this. He was a bad person, he was a bad person, he was hurting defenseless humans, taking their blood from them for some unknown reason. And all of the paranoia that he felt in Mitchell’s presence suddenly made so much sense. There was a reason for it all. Mitchell was dangerous, Mitchell had to be stopped.
But he didn’t expect him to suddenly fight back. He stumbled back a couple of steps, and then lunged forward again, taking a swing at him, his fist coming into contact with Mitchell’s jaw, knocking his sunglasses from his face.
oooOOOooo
When the fist collided with his face, Mitchell stumbled back as well. The sun burned in his eyes and blood escaped from his nose and fled over his chin. His eyes turned black with anger and blood lust. "That was a mistake," he growled. This man wouldn't fuck up his life! He wouldn't let him ruin everything he had built for himself.
He grabbed Bond by the neck and pushed him into the next wall. He could hear the skull hit the cold stone. "I don't fucking want to kill you but if you leave no other choice I will. There are too many people who need me."
oooOOOooo
Well, that wasn’t good. The pain shoot through his head, and he really couldn’t even think straight for a few seconds, he could hardly process what Mitchell was saying. He was threatening to kill him. Oh, God, he couldn’t breathe-
Thinking his way through the probable concussion, James turned his head to the right to allow himself some breathing space. He hooked his fingers and pulled down on Mitchell’s hand, his opposite arm lifting to punch Mitchell under his chin.
oooOOOooo
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Q wasn’t one to swear a lot. Except during sex, maybe. Or on the odd occasion when things went disastrously wrong. This really seemed like one of those moments. Because Mitchell looked as though he were about to kill James, and James...well, Q loved him but he didn’t know if he could stand up against a vampire. Still, even if Q stood even less of a chance he couldn’t really let James deal on his own.
And he hated it when people fought.
“Seriously, both of you, what the fuck is going on? Mitchell?” He strode towards them both, grabbing the arm of the hand Mitchell was using to pin James to the wall. “What did he do to you? Tell me and I’ll break his balls but Jesus Christ-”
oooOOOooo
The voice, the hand on his shoulder was the cold water Mitchell had needed. His eyes turned normal and he staggered back from Bond. The anger was still there, still boiling in him. But he wouldn’t kill - he couldn’t go down that road again. He never ever wanted to be that man again. Q could handle Bond. Mitchell was prepared. He could survive his death.
“I have no fucking idea what’s going on! He fucking attacked me out of the blue!” he spat into Bond’s direction more than Q’s. This was madness. Bond was mad - the man had gone bonkers. Even if he took blood from humans that was still his thing. They were volunteers. They did it to help him and essentially they did it all because of Bond.
oooOOOooo
“Q-” James croaked, not sure if he was feeling relieved or horrified by Q’s presence. He didn’t want Q to get hurt, but he also didn’t want to die, and Mitchell seemed to be calming down a little. At least he wasn’t choking him anymore.
James shook his head- oh, God, that hurt- and stepped away from the wall again. How could he explain this to Q? He should have had him on board from the beginning, but surely Q would know. This was the mission, wasn’t it? Mitchell?
“Q- it wasn’t out of the blue- we had an agreement. He- I can’t trust him anymore. I can’t- someone needs to stop him. He’s- dangerous, he’s not safe-” he told him, moving to create a human barrier between Mitchell and Q.
oooOOOooo
"Oh, fuck you! " Mitchell spat into Bond's direction. That ruined everything and god, he was mad! "If you want to see someone who is dangerous, look in the fucking mirror! I didn't do anything and I never forced someone to do anything! I'm not a monster! " He wasn't! He refused to be the bad guy, even though Bond pushed him that way. He could be good and he would be good. If there was a monster around, it was Bond.
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Q frowned. Something had obviously gone very wrong somewhere. He looked between the two men with confliction. James was his best friend. Mitchell, though, had never really given Q any reason to doubt him, aside from trying to strangle James just then. That had been rather frightening but-
He held up his hand to stop one or both of them from speaking, even though he was certain that Mitchell’s words would have stopped anything forming in James’ mind. James was a trained assassin, he was a dangerous man, but he didn’t ever really act without having thought something through. But oh...
“Who had an agreement?” he asked James gently. He was going to have to be a little more businesslike about this whole thing. “Bond, calm down and explain yourself.”
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Mitchell’s words were like a slap in the face, and Bond reeled from the metaphorical impact for a few seconds, clearly absolutely horrified by this accusation.
But Q was calm and professional, and he turned to him, grounded again. He took a breath, ready to explain the situation to his Quartermaster, not scream at everyone in the street like a maniac.
“We had an understanding. As long as he isn’t using humans as his personal blood supply, we have no problem. But he is, he’s drinking blood again, and he’s doing something with his own, he’s planning something and- when I ask him what it is, I get death threats.”
oooOOOooo
Q pursed his lips and sighed, turning his head towards Mitchell. “That is a strong accusation, Mitchell. And if it’s true-” if it was true there had to be some reasonable explanation, because Q didn’t think that Mitchell was a bad person. “-if it’s true you had better explain yourself. Less of the death threats. No more of this nonsensical fisticuffs. You know we can’t have people just wandering around eating each other. Or nibbling. It isn’t safe.”
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God, this wasn’t true! Now even Q demanded an explanation! Every other vampire had fed, Cutler had been allowed to drink blood and he wasn’t? Mitchell couldn’t tell them what it was for! If he did, Bond would just destroy the blood he had stored so far. No, Bond couldn’t know.
“Bruce is storing it for me, okay? It’s -” He hesitated for a moment. “- we need it to save someone. I don’t plan anything evil with it. And the reason why I drink blood is because I can’t produce my own. Fuck, I’m a vampire! Look me up in an encyclopaedia.” Anger was boiling inside of him. He didn’t know why he had to explain himself all of a sudden. No one before had but if he decided that he wanted to drink blood again it was suddenly a big deal. He was safe, he wasn’t endangering anyone and it wasn’t as if he did it for his own delight.
oooOOOooo
As far as Q was aware that had been the deal all along. The vampires had to have had some way to keep themselves going and they must have stored the blood they took the last time round. So it was nothing untoward. But it wasn’t like James, either. To jump to wild conclusions that drove him to violence. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What happened, James? Did you see him kill someone, or attack someone? Someone that isn’t you-” he added, though his whole tone was somewhat weary. And he was biased. He was willing to hear James out. But then it did seem slightly unreasonable on James part...
oooOOOooo
James felt ridiculous, now. But he also didn’t understand. This was the mission, wasn’t it? Find out what he was using the blood for, and then taking him out? He had been sure that was meant to be the job. He didn’t understand what Q was doing, or what he was asking.
“Personally? No- I didn’t have to- no, what-” he started, giving him a look of confusion. He was meant to know. He was meant to know what job he was on, this was no good. Or was this just his way of getting the information out of Mitchell? James wasn’t following.
“It’s on his file. And there are humans walking around with bite marks- I thought- are we not meant to-” he stepped toward Q, desperate for some kind of confirmation or reassurance. “What’s going on here?” he asked, in a more hushed tone.
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Mitchell shook his head in a startled gesture. “You are keeping a fucking file on me?” he asked irritated. He hadn’t known that James had treated him like a suspect or criminal all along. God, if he had, he wouldn’t have been so friendly to him. “And I only bite willing donors. So maybe you could go and ask them before you throw wild accusations at me.” He was sick and tired of being called a monster because he wasn’t human anymore. They had no idea of the struggle he fought everyday not to hurt someone.
oooOOOooo
Q looked at James. It wasn’t like him at all and it didn’t take a genius to know that something had gone horribly wrong here. “Okay,” he said, sounding a lot calmer than he actually felt. “Okay, James, we’re going to sort this out. It isn’t as though Mitchell can go anywhere, is it? We’ll go back to the apartment and look at everything and then decide the best course of action. Remember we’re not in London anymore, we need to deal with things slightly differently.” He touched James’ arm, which was really not a professional thing to do in the circumstances, but Q supposed the time had probably passed when they could pretend to be professional about things.
“Mitchell-” Q lowered his voice, stepping away from James. “Something is wrong. I’m going to take him home and work out what but I might need you to come over later. This isn’t- something is wrong. Please just give me a while.” He cleared his throat, then spoke louder, just for James’ benefit. “We’ll come and see you later, to talk about these accusations and what should be done.”
oooOOOooo
Mitchell nodded. Q seemed to be on his side. At least someone reasonable. And James listened to Q, didn't he? The vampire through the other man a grateful smile and slowly started to calm down. Q would fix this. Everything would be okay. "Yeah, fine. I don't plan on hurting anyone, " Mitchell added for Q, just to keep him on his side.
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“It’s not my fucking file,” he retorted angrily- didn’t he get it? He was just an agent, it wasn’t personal. It was work, it was necessary. I-” he stuttered. Something was wrong, something was really wrong, and all he could do was give Q a sort of desperate look.
He nodded slowly, but the look of panic was obvious. It would be okay- Q would help him. He glanced back to Mitchell, but he looked more anxious than threatening now. He didn’t trust him, but he didn’t know what was happening anymore. “Okay. Let’s get out of here,” he told Q softly.