Ever since I learned how to write, captivating books have held an enormous amount of my attention. I've spent so much time reading, it's only natural that my next step would be to try my hand at writing. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity, to test my hand as a fast paced Bond writer.
James walks confidently forward, towards the desk. He smiles at the woman at the counter as he walks by her and into the elevator. His room is on the fortieth floor, it’s a suite overlooking the city of Prague. Over the last week he has been running a reconnaissance mission on a group of banks that have been siphoning money from their vaults to terrorists working for Al Qaeda. He has had a very memorable last couple of days, complete with at least three separate occasions where he has had to chase down suspects. He smiles at these thoughts, and thinks about how his job is wonderful.
The elevator arrives at the fortieth floor and he behind the walk towards his room. On the way he passes the rooftop pool, which is occupied by several beautiful woman. They notice him, but pay him no attention, possessed by a confidence that only young women seem to have. Seeing them again sends James into reflection over the last few days. He remembers the secretary he had met at the corporation. She had also liked pools, which had proved interesting.
He walked by the pool, and moved closer to his room. As he got to the door, he looked over both of his shoulders, checking for tails, then entered his room. He looked around, and noticed that the door to his bathroom was slightly open through his peripheral vision. Acting like he hadn’t noticed anything, he stepped towards the liquor cabinet, obscuring his front to the bathroom in the process. He then reached into his jacket pocket for his gun.
He was only a moment to late. As he was drawing his gun he heard a sound from behind him, and instinctively moved to the right. That saved his life, causing the bullet aimed at his heart to just graze his left arm instead. He then began to move, grabbing the container of scotch in the cabinet while doing so, turned on his attacker, and threw the liquor at his face. It distracted him enough that James was able to slide up to the gunman’s side and grab the slide of the gun with one hand, while using the other hand to repeatedly hit the gunman in the face and stomach. This barrage stunned the gunman momentarily, but not permanently. They started to trade blows, beating each other to a pulp like two bananas in a washing machine.
Eventually James managed to kick the gunman’s leg out from underneath him, then used a chair that was next to him to smack the gunman upside the head. This put the assassin out for good, so James sank back and sat on the bed. As he looked around, loosening his tie, he noticed that they had pretty much destroyed the hotel room. He then quickly placed a call for a cleanup crew from MI6, and then walked out of his room. This time as he passed the pool he received many stares of disgust, and marveled what he must look like, bloodied and bruised. He eventually limped out on to the street and began to make his way over to his cache of clean clothes he always kept within a block of wherever he stayed. When he got to the clothes, he looked down at himself for the first time and cursed, “@#$!, that’s the third suit this month.”