007: Who's Your Daddy...

When last we heard from our illustrious spy, he was mourning the one who got away. After some years, his bottom has melded to the leather of his recliner and he hasn't seen the inside of a shower for over a month when M calls him directly.

"We have a job," M declares. "A new organization has appeared on our radar and it is more deadly than both Spectre and Blofeld combined. We need you James Bond." Remembering there was more to his job than just chasing skirts, he pries himself from his chair and a training montage begins. He tosses his soap opera magazines in the trash, and spends quality time at the gym. Within five minutes, clean shaven and smartly dressed, we find him standing in M's office armed with his trademark smarmy self-assurance.

"So, M," he begins. "Tell me about this new organization." M holds a file folder in her (or his, its up to you) hands and refers to it frequently as she gives Bond the general rundown.

"The organization," she explains. "Is targeting your former lovers." James' slick smile fades ever so slightly. "We need a detailed list of every woman, still living, with whom you have had a relationship." James stares at the bottom of his empty glass.

"It's a long list," he admits. M purses her lips.

"I am aware," she replies, "but these woman are all in danger. You owe it to them. Give us the names and we will protect them until you are able to close down this villainous group." James gives a decisive nod.

"Get me some paper," he instructs as he sits in a chair in front of M's desk. M hands him a sheet of college ruled notebook paper. "I'll need more than that," he says as he takes the paper and begins to write.

"How much more?" M asks.

"Better make it a notebook," he replies as he scribbles across the page at a furious pace.

To Be Continued...