♠ | 024 | Video
lastrat: (arm yourself)
[personal profile] lastrat
[Adept as Bond may be in his own world, there is only so much he can wrap his mind around. Space operas do not number, and he has a fairly blase look on his face when he turns on the camera. He's in the CES, on a hill overlooking a wide valley. There is a very long gun resting against his shoulder.]

Now that's over with, I'm setting up a fullbore range in the CES. Targets are spread around this side of the hill.

[He turns the camera, and in the distance there are indeed targets set up, borrowed from the firing range.]

There's plenty of space between here and the entrance. Try not to wander through my line of sight.

[Private to Ellie]

Have you ever used a sniper rifle?

[Open Spam]

[True to his word, Bond is working on his sniping. Clad in forest colored clothes, a step up from actually wearing proper camouflage, Bond lays prone at the top of the hill. His rifle is steadied on a bag of ammo and supplies, kickstand folded up; he knows how the recoil can work against the ground too well to bother.

The firing isn't frequent; any one in the CES might hear a shot every ten minutes at best. His patience needs practice, too.]

♠ | 013 | Voice + Spam
lastrat: (I'm gonna break the cycle)
[personal profile] lastrat
[Spam]

Private spam in the firing range )

[Some time later, he circles back to the deck, looking slightly less murderous. He's gotten his hands on a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches in the interim, and he lights one now, leaning over the rail. It's been years since he smoked, not since he left the Royal Navy, really, and the taste is acrid against his tongue. It doesn't stop him from inhaling deeply, like the hard taste of gin doesn't stop him from drinking deeply. At least he doesn't cough.

When the cigarette burns low, he pulls it away from his lips, watching the embers burn and flare, before flicking it away over the edge. He watches until it disappears, then reaches for another.]


[Public]

[Someone is feeling a bit like shit. Which means it's time to hide it away and raise an innocuous topic while lounging in a chair in his cabin.]

I imagine between the lot of us there's been quite a bit of traveling. What are your favorite places? Beach, hotel, casino, I don't care. Where have you been?

[Private to the Admiral]

Put the adjoining door back between Vesper's room and mine, won't you?

♠ | 009 | Video
lastrat: (turning on a dime)
[personal profile] lastrat
[Backdated immediately post flood - Bond's camera comes on, and he is absolutely covered in paint of all colors save purple. It's hard to read his expression beneath it - he's half out of breath, half annoyed, half entertained.]

Wankers. Level six should have bagged it.

[There's a beat as he wipes - or tries to - his face on his sleeve. It just smears some more orange across his face.]

Don't think this makes up for a full-bore range.

[And three seconds before he kills the feed, he actually smiles. Let's be real, this is the best flood he's been through.]

♠ | 005 | Voice + Text
lastrat: (that for those who die we tried the best)
[personal profile] lastrat
[When the audio clicks on, James sounds distinctly bored. He is not talking about the breach. That did not happen. >(]

Scotland Yard has a high-definition computerized firearms-training simulator. I've only been a few times. An electrode is mounted against your back; if you don't shoot the gunman [terrorist] before he shoots you, you wind up on your knees in excruciating pain.

We could use one of those here. At the very least, a full-bore rifle range. Small arms and moving targets are only so challenging for so long.

[Private to Lisbeth]

i have the camera.

[Spam for Vesper]

[He wasn't sure if he likes Slade or not; he was certain he didn't like the idea of him as Vesper's inmate. (Not that he would breathe a word of this to anyone.) It was easy to spot her patterns - James observed when she came and went, and tonight, when she lefther room for dinner, he slipped out of his - and once she'd disappeared down the stairs, he pulled out his room key - the hotel keycard - he turned it in his hand, and tested a theory.

They spent their time in Montenegro in a shared suite, with only one door. Now the door was identical. Why shouldn't one key open both?

Sliding it straight down, James watched the green light tick on, and allowed a smile to quirk the corner of his mouth. Pushing the door open and closing it quietly behind him, he looked around her side of the suite. It was just as he remembered it, not quite identical, it had been too nice a hotel for laziness - but still familiar. He walked by where the conjoining door should be and glanced at the empty wall without surprise.

Knowing he wouldn't have too much time, he set to work searching for the 'Terminator's' file - he still couldn't believe someone would choose to go by that ridiculous name. It wasn't difficult; for all that Vesper had had a taste of the spy world, she wasn't one. The file was sitting out on her dresser, and he brought it to the table, wasting no time in spreading everything out. It wasn't a typical file, no photographs, nothing blacked out; everything was there to be observed for whoever laid eyes on it. Sloppy. Like his own file, and he fucking hated that.

So he read, and memorized - and when he heard noise at the door, he piled everything back into the folder in careful order, put it back in place, and slipped into the bathroom as the front door opened. The shower turned on; he only hesitated for a moment. It was her shower he'd found her in after all, dress and all.

By the time she came to investigate - if she was as smart as he'd thought she was, she'd be scared - his clothes were in a pile on the floor, and he was wet enough to be convincing. Off went the tap, and he stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and leaning out of the bathroom to let her know who had invaded her room.]