Q

[quartermaster_q]

"Q could do it," Tanner had suggested, prompting the young Quartermaster to look up from what he was doing and frown deeply.

 

"He certainly could not," the fluffy haired boffin replied blandly, shooting Tanner a look, then returning his attention to his laptop. "Besides, I don't go into the field without double-o seven."

 

It wasn't even official work they were talking about. Q Branch had simply gotten wind that a certain soviet agent was in town, apparently not on business, and at some point had started talking about how useful it might be to bug his personal laptop before five worked out he was here and got to him first. It had started off as light banter, a joke even, but it had gotten more and more serious as the time passed. Serious enough that someone had opened the man's file and had started reading up on the agent in question.

 

"It's not the field, it's a bar," Hopper, a young tech, chimed in. "Besides, you're just his type. Go in, have a flirt, bug him, then get out."

 

Q scowled, but it was obvious that they weren't going to let up- And really, it wasn't a terrible idea. He didn't like going out on something like this without Bond, but Bond wasn't in the office right now. He'd have to do this alone.

 

"Fine," Q eventually agreed with a sigh. "I'll do it."

 

That was how he wound up in a dreadful bar, sitting at a filthy table beside a large man who was attempting to get him very drunk. 

 

"Oh, just one more, come on," the man insisted, putting another beer down in front of Q.

 

His head was already spinning, and he knew if he drank any more he wouldn't be sober enough to do what needed to be done. His fingers grazed over his ear, tapping the device that sat inside as he assured the man he couldn't have another drop, hoping to alert his team that he needed some help- Except there was nothing. No static, no sound at all.

 

"What's wrong?" the Russian asked, his tone calm as his arm snaked around Q. "Can your friends not hear you any more?"

 

Q's pulse fluttered, and he tensed as he felt a small blade press against his side.

 

"You're right, you've had enough to drink," the man whispered. "Let's get out of here, hmm?"

 

Getting to his feet, Q let the man guide him, though the young Quartermaster moved slowly, scanning the crowd for help. He'd known this was a dreadful idea, and the moment he got away from the bastard he was going to march right back to Q branch and tell them all what a bunch of idiots they were.

 

(OTA! Feel free to have your pup notice the hidden knife, or not notice and simply approach Q by chance.)

Comments

[ilowell]

Lowell didn't actually think that at all. But he supposed it was worth a ride for even the potential that that was true. After all, it probably wouldn't be that hard to figure out who he was; there was bound to be at least one person in that bar who recognized him. And yeah, let's try to explain why rock star Lowell Tracey knows Russian and spies' code names.

"I guess her majesty doesn't also want to know what he wanted with you," he said as he led them to his ten-year-old black VW beetle parked on the next block.

[quartermaster_q]

"I can't speak for the queen's personal interest, but my boss would certainly have a lot to say on the matter," Q shrugged.

[ilowell]

"Your boss being...?" Lowell asked, but then said, "Wait, maybe I don't actually want to know that. But if you're getting at what I think you're getting at I'm actually a little dismayed that national security can be traded away for a drop off at a hotel. Wait, why did I just say that. I'm kidding." He unlocked the car doors and climbed in the driver's side.

He was seriously expecting to be stabbed any minute now.

He was already counting his lucky stars that the adrenaline of what had happened in the bar hadn't caused him to go Full Zombie. It had been a close fucking thing.

[quartermaster_q]

"It's better you know as little as possible," Q assured him, examining the car before climbing in and pulling out his phone.

"He's staying at the Hilton," he said, tapping away on his phone as he spoke. He'd been hoping the stranger wasn't a civilian, but it looked as though he was. Silently, the young Quartermaster snapped a photo of his driver, running his face through the system.

No alarms went off, but there was a sealed medical file. Curious, but not terribly alarming. As far as Q could tell, he wasn't a threat.

[ilowell]

Lowell didn't catch him taking the picture. He was too distracted, trying to decide if he should tell him...

"Look, that guy in there. Bach, it's his uh, code name. And you should probably know, he killed another Russian spy a few days ago. Snapped his neck. His body's in the morgue now, a John Doe."

[quartermaster_q]

"Oh, and how is it that you know that?" Q asked, honestly curious even though his tone was as soft and bland as ever.

[ilowell]

"You really don't want to know," Lowell sighed, having known perfectly well he would ask. He had an excuse lined up, but he really wasn't looking forward to using it.

[quartermaster_q]

Q considered the man for a long moment, his gave flickering over his features, studying him.

"Alright," he replied after a beat, deciding to leave it be. His tech said the man wasn't a threat, and his tech was almost never wrong. Bond would have pushed hard, wanting to know every last detail, but Q only asked what he needed to know. Should he need to fill in the blanks later, he'd send a double-o to sort it out. He had no interest in getting his hands any dirtier than he had to.

[ilowell]

"Really?" Lowell glanced at him, genuinely surprised. But obviously he wasn't going to push it. Except...

"Look, you aren't just saying that because really you're sending someone to crash into my car and kill me as soon as I drop you off, right?"

[quartermaster_q]

"That's much more paperwork than I want to fill out, honestly," Q replied, returning his attention to his phone. "You're not the first person to stumble onto something you're not supposed to know after all. I suppose I could have you taken care of, but then I'd have to explain to my boss why I stabbed a Russian agent in a bar- Which would lead to me, and my team, being reprimanded for looking into things that aren't, technically, our jurisdiction- And really, that's all just a headache I'm not interested in having. It's really better for us both if we just forget one another, and the man in the bar- Don't you agree? ...Just as soon as you've helped me sneak into his hotel room that is."

[ilowell]

"I... oh." After all that, Lowell knew it was probably better not to argue. "What, you want me to distract a bell hop or something?"

He parked the car across the street from the hotel.

[quartermaster_q]

"That's a joke, I hope," Q replied, pulling a small device from his pocket and holding it out in offering. "You're going to plant this as close to the computer by the main desk as you're able. Once you tap the button on the top it will disrupt their local wireless signal. While you do that, I'll be taking care of the security camera feeds. We can meet at his hotel room once we're finished. ...Unless, of course, you chose to simply run. I wont hold it against you if you do- But I'd rather you warned me if that's what you intend to do. I hate thinking up backup plans in the heat of the moment."

[ilowell]

Lowell looked exceedingly unsure about this plan, but he also was pretty confident the guy could have him killed, so he only nodded. At least it didn't sound... too difficult to do. And with this spy brain in his system he should be able to handle a simple plant, right?

[quartermaster_q]

"I'm not forcing you to agree to this. If you want to leave, I'm giving you an out," Q replied with a sigh. "Don't nod if you're not going to be any use to me. I'm just as capable of doing this on my own."

[ilowell]

Lowell really, really wanted to just cut and run. But there was some huge, tugging part of him that wanted to help.

He suspected that that part was spy brain wanting revenge on the guy that had murdered him.

"I can help," he finally said. After all, it wasn't like he was asking him to do anything particularly dangerous.

[quartermaster_q]

Q observed him for a moment, then nodded.

"Good," he replied, offering the device again, then moving to get out of the car.

[ilowell]

Some days - most days - Lowell just really wished that he could go back to being a second rate musician.

He sighed a little as he closed the car door and followed after the man towards the hotel.

"What should I call you?"he asked.

[quartermaster_q]

"Q will do, Mr. Tracy," Q replied smoothly. "Just Q."

[ilowell]

Lowell sighed. Of course he knew his name. This was some next level spy shit.

"Well if we're on a first initial basis even, you can call me Lowell," he quipped.

[quartermaster_q]

"No, I don't think I will," Q replied, not unpleasantly. "Set off the device and I'll meet you outside the room. Third floor, room 312. You can be the lookout."

[ilowell]

"You remind me a bit of my headmaster at Eaton," Lowell said dryly, and then slipped the device into his pocket. "Right-o."

[quartermaster_q]

"Really? Usually I get compared to a petulant teenager," Q said lightly, offering the man a nod as they parted ways and he went to go take care of the cameras.

[ilowell]

Lowell went to the front desk as asked, and by some stroke of luck the clerk was a young woman. He was able to flirt her into distraction pretty easily. Especially after he realized, with some surprise, that he spoke French, too. (At least, much better French than what he remembered from school.)

He had no idea if the gizmo worked, but he went up to the room Q had indicated, and waited for a second outside. Then, not knowing what else to do, rapped lightly on the door.

[quartermaster_q]

Q opened the door a crack, then all of the way.

"Didn't think you'd come," he admitted, looking the man over, then letting him in.

"I just need a moment," he assured him, emptying the dead man's overnight bag and filling it with the man's tech and various items of interest- For example, items like his fake American passport.

[ilowell]

"I guess I'm not completely incompetent after all," Lowell said, and wondered not for the first time tonight what the hell he thought he was doing.

He glanced around the room, and then his gaze settled onto a tacky hotel painting of a forest... which sent him lurching into a vision. In it, he was wearing black gloves and taking something out of that same bag that Q had been searching. He heard footsteps, and he slid the envelope into his jacket pocket... but then, realizing that he might possibly be caught, slid the painting off the wall and put the envelope into the groove under the frame instead. Then he replaced it... just in time for the Russian spy from the bar to barge in and throw him across the room.

Lowell came back to himself with a little gasp, and then looked wide-eyed at Q. "There's something behind the painting," he blurted.