RANKED 3rd BY VOTERS IN CHARACTER CREATION CONTEST #120!

M walked in briskly, all upright and proper, wearing a mint green suit. You would think the Head of the Secret Intelligence Service would want to stand out less, but I've always assumed it was like the column of fire by night leading the Israelites- you can see her coming, she knows you can see her coming, and she doesn't care, because she's that good. Also, it never stops being impressive.

With her is Q, followed by one of his technical assistants wheeling in a cart with whatever gear he's cooked up this time. If M is the fire by night, Q is the cloud by day- obscuring the view of what's right in front of you, not as flashy as the column of fire, but no less fearsome. The same angel in two different guises.

With them is a young woman I don't know, but she's a pretty bird. I flash a smile and a nod as they walk up to the table I'm leaning against, and as the technical assistant walks away, M says, "Down, boy. Double-O-Seven already landed this fish."

Dammit, Bond!

"He tried," the woman says, "but I shut him down." Her accent is American which surprises me.

Her hands clasped in front of her, M turns slightly towards the woman, and corrects her, "You pretended to shut him down, but you cast your room number from your phone to his when you got close enough."

Which means she already had his number, I think, assessing her. They've tumbled before. Bond, you old dog.

The young woman meets M's gaze only briefly, and then looking down at the table behind me, she clears her throat slightly, and says, "I... didn't think you saw that, ma'am."

I smile again, and say, "M sees everything." I reach out my hand to shake hers, and introduce msyelf. "Jason December- Double-O-Fifty."

Shaking my hand firmly, she says, "Jennifer Bryan."

"Ms. Bryan is with the C.I.A.," M informs me. "They've asked our help. You'll be accompanying her to Macau."

"What's in Macau?" I ask.

"Not a what," says Jennifer. "A who- Jena Johansson; codename: Black Box."

I wince. "You yanks aren't really still using codenames, are you? Leaving calling cards, too?"

"She's not C.I.A.," says M. "Ms. Johansson is with Raido Computer Consulting- a front for an elite American military unit. The R.C.C. themselves are the elite of the elite, known as Valkyries."

"Choosers of the slain?" I ask.

"Valhallan Escort Service, if you ask me," says Bryan.

"I didn't," M says sternly. "The Valkyrie name is not unearned, and if they are the elite of the elite, Johansson is the elite of the Valkyries. She designed their new power armor, and is about as near to a counterpart for myself and Q as the Americans are likely to get."

"I didn't think that was possible," I say amiably.

"She said 'near,' Mister December," Q says with a smile. He purses his lips for a second, then arches his eyebrow. "But it's a relative term, I'd say."

I smile and nod back, then ask, "So, what's a Valkyrie doing in Macau, M?"

"Getting caught," she says sharply, "and getting in our way." Directing our attention to a monitor behind me, M brings up some pictures. "This is the Macau Dragon Casino- Ms. Johansson's last known location."

"It looks like Wat Samphran," I say, looking to M.

She raises an eyebrow in my direction, and answers, "It's modelled after the Dragon Temple, but is twenty-two stories high, rather than sixteen, and ten times the circumference. The additional six floors are reserved for Lóng Mán- the Dragon Eel- the owner of the Macau Dragon. Although Mán himself lives in the penthouse just below the dragon's head."

I shake my head. "Wat Samphran was built with Buddhist symbolism in mind. Adding floors just takes away from that."

"The Dragon Eel's about as Buddhist as Al Qaeda is Muslim," Jennifer almost snaps.

"Did you lose someone in Nine Eleven?" I ask with a slight pout.

Her eye twitches momentarily as she checks her anger. "No. But three thousand American families did. That's--"

"--Not relevant at the moment," M interrupts. "Jason has had psych profile training, and that was an ill-advised attempt," she says, glaring at me, "to test it out on you."

Bryan takes a deep, angry breath, and glares for a moment. "For what purpose?"

"To see how invested you are in someone else's pain, and how in control of your anger you are," I say simply. "Ms. Johansson is in danger, and we're being sent in to rescue her. I want to know if I can count on you to keep your head in the field."

She takes about two seconds to absorb that, and then says, "You could have just asked."

I nod, a bit embarrassed at M's chiding, and say, "As M said, it was ill-advised. I apologize."

She looks at me without a change in her expression, and says, "You can count on me." Turning back to the monitor, she adds, "James has."

Damn! I think to myself. I say nothing, just raising an eyebrow as I glance at M, then turn back to the monitor myself.

M continues, "Lóng Mán is the head of the Dragon's Teeth Triad, although we have suspected that he and the Triad are just the front for a larger organization called Ouroboros."

"A snake biting its tail?" I ask.

"Jason, quit interrupting," says M, glowering at me. "Law enforcement agencies and governments all over the globe have expressed interest in Ouroboros. Even the highest levels of the U.S. Secret Service. An international Ouroboros Task Force, or O.T.F., has managed to place operatives throughout the organization, and the list of those operatives is closely guarded. Or, at least it was until last week."

*****

Story and original characters owned by Chris Bishop, and copyright 2022. Those not owned by Chris Bishop will be detailed in the first comment box.