original

Multiversal Technology System

Chapitre 1: Chapter 1

In the quiet confines of a peaceful suburban neighborhood, a lone figure, dressed in a sharp black suit, remained undaunted by the tranquility that surrounded him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, but his determination was unwavering as he approached a seemingly ordinary suburban house that had long been a crucial asset in his clandestine missions.

As he reached the front door of the unassuming house, the man's trained eye detected the hidden keyhole with ease, revealing a concealed entrance that led him into the house's shadowy interior. As the door clicked shut behind him, the cool darkness enveloped him, providing a stark contrast to the sunny suburban street outside.

Inside, he was met by a familiar face, a man sitting at a cluttered workbench, meticulously assembling an array of gadgets and weaponry. The man's hands were deft and precise, a testament to his commitment to maintaining the covert arsenal that supported the man's operations.

With a hint of amusement in his voice, the mechanic quipped, "Mr. James, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Alex, you know you can call me James, as I've reminded you countless times," the man sighed, his voice tinged with the fatigue of his line of work. "I'm here on business."

Alex turned with a knowing smile on his lips, the lines on his weathered face bearing witness to the years of friendship and collaboration. "So, where is your next destination this time?"

"Montenegro"

"Do you have solid leads?"

"Yes, intelligence suggests our target is connected to a man named Le Chiffre, a professional gambler who funds terrorist activities."

Bond was about to respond, but Alex, who knew the spy's tendencies all too well, cut him off. "Honestly, Bond, you're approaching 40. Have you ever considered retirement? I'm sure MI6 has promising young agents."

"I'll retire when..." Bond began, but Alex interrupted.

"...when this mission is done. James, if I had a dollar for every time you've said that, I'd be a trillionaire," Alex retorted with a playful grin, a testament to the enduring friendship that had seen them through countless missions and near-death experiences.

From a drawer, Alex produced a sleek suitcase, placing it on a nearby table and motioning for Bond to approach. The contents of the suitcase, a meticulously organized array of gadgets and weaponry, represented the culmination of their years of collaboration.

As Bond drew closer, he couldn't resist a retort, "You criticize my mission choices, but what about you? You own a multi-billion-dollar company and could be the richest man on the planet, yet you're holed up in a desert warehouse."

"James, you may call this the middle of nowhere, but I call it paradise. I have state-of-the-art defense systems with numerous guns lining the walls and ceilings, along with hundreds of laser guns mounted outside the warehouse," Alex explained, a testament to the depth of his commitment to their shared cause.

Bringing their banter to a close, Bond declared, "Enough with the small talk."

Alex picked up a firearm and presented it to Bond. "You have your choice, the classic PPK or the P99, both equipped with biometric grips."

"I'll go with the P99 this time."

"Here's your Omega watch armed with a bomb, and you know how to activate it. Don't forget the portable implants," Alex added, finalizing their transaction with the efficiency of a partnership that had been honed to perfection over the years.

As the exchange concluded, Bond couldn't help but reflect on the countless missions he'd undertaken throughout his career. The weight of those years had left their mark, and Alex's friendly jab about retirement lingered in his mind. However, duty called, and he had always been one to answer.

"Thank you, Alex," Bond said, his gratitude evident in his eyes as he took the P99. "Your support has been invaluable. Now, it's time to put all this to good use."

Alex gave a nod, his demeanor shifting to a more serious tone. "Remember, James, discretion is key. Le Chiffre is no ordinary adversary. He's cunning, resourceful, and ruthless."

Bond nodded in agreement. "I know, and I won't underestimate him. That's why I came to you; your equipment is unmatched."

[Ding!]

[Part 1 of Mission is passed!]

[Mission reward temporarily granted]

[On completion of the full mission the mission reward will be permanently granted, however if this mission is failed the mission reward will be taken away from host and this mission reward will never be accesible]

[Mission reward:"All Spark" has been temporarily added to your inventory]

[Description: The AllSpark is an ancient and infinitely limitless, powerful Cybertronian artifact. It has the power to bring lifeless technology to life by turning it into sentient, autonomous Cybertronians. It is said to have created the original thirteen Primes, as it is the very essence/spark of the planet's god Primus himself.]

Alex smiled to himself, a knowing twinkle in his eye, as he turned around and walked with deliberate steps to the garage where a distinctive yellow and black camero was

parked. He entered the garage with a confident stride, his footfalls echoing through the house, and he stood on a raised platform, which activated with a soft hum.

As he stepped onto the platform, it smoothly parted, revealing a circular hole beneath that led to a hidden underground chamber. In the dimly lit chamber, a state-of-the-art white Land Rover slowly ascended, bathed in soft, ambient lighting. It gleamed with the latest in advanced technology and espionage modifications, perfectly suited for Bond's mission in Madagascar.

With a practiced ease, Alex climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. He rolled down the window and called out to Bond who had just left the warehouse, "Good luck, James. Come back in one piece. And when you do, let's discuss that retirement plan over a good bottle of Scotch."

Bond grinned, knowing that there might come a day when he'd take Alex up on that offer. With a nod of acknowledgment, he entered the car and drove off disappearing into the quiet suburban road