Great updates, it seems like the clash between the eastern and western civilisation soon will begin! When Germany and UK will make peace I have a feeling Fu Manchu will activate Stalin as his new crazy european dictator.
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I'm sure the idea of letting Fah Loo Sue onboard the Führer's aircraft is not a very good one...
Otto fears that Fah may learn about what he was up to with the stewardesses certainly makes one wonder just what they were doing. 
In any case, Britain and Germany agreeing to peace is certainly an interesting development; are we going to end up with the US, UK, and Germany fighting against the Pan-Asian Empire now? Certainly Hitler is going to want revenge on Fu Manchu, but somehow I suspect that Hitler may decide that the best way to attack Pan-Asia is through the Soviet Union.
In any case, Britain and Germany agreeing to peace is certainly an interesting development; are we going to end up with the US, UK, and Germany fighting against the Pan-Asian Empire now? Certainly Hitler is going to want revenge on Fu Manchu, but somehow I suspect that Hitler may decide that the best way to attack Pan-Asia is through the Soviet Union.
Who says that the British will accept a peace offer - France is gone - I dont think Winston will accept a peace deal without the original broders returning - I dont see Hitler doing that.
Also what is all that silver for? - Some arcane eastern mystical magic?
Also what is all that silver for? - Some arcane eastern mystical magic?
yourworstnightmare: yes, it seems that Fu and Fah are coming up against a formidable coalition indeed. But they're not ones to quietly let the odds build up against them, as the coming update will show...
cthulhu: That dame is bad news, no buts about that...
Chengar Quordath: Well, lets just say I would have wanted to be in Skorzeny's shoes on the way there, but not once he gets into the plane with Fah Lo Suee...
therev: The stated intention of Lord Halifax, the current PM, is to seek a negotiated peace. His reasons for doing so will be discussed in the upcoming update. As for the use of the silver, it will be disclosed in time (even the Shadow doesn't know yet ). You don't REALLY expect me to give away such things, do you?
cthulhu: That dame is bad news, no buts about that...
Chengar Quordath: Well, lets just say I would have wanted to be in Skorzeny's shoes on the way there, but not once he gets into the plane with Fah Lo Suee...
therev: The stated intention of Lord Halifax, the current PM, is to seek a negotiated peace. His reasons for doing so will be discussed in the upcoming update. As for the use of the silver, it will be disclosed in time (even the Shadow doesn't know yet
). You don't REALLY expect me to give away such things, do you?
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Secret Service HQ, Regents Park, London
British Empire
December 6th, 1939
Bond’s hat flew artfully through the air to land on one of the empty hooks of the wooden clothes hanger standing next to the door of Sir Dennis’s office.
‘Get this!’ James Bond shouted, running into the office in what the elderly crime fighter and spy considered a most undignified fashion. He didn’t even take the time to hang up his sodden coat. The young intelligence officer looked excited, and not so little pleased.
‘Report please, Mr Bond,’ Nayland Smith demanded in a dry tone of voice. One of these days he’d have to reign in the exuberance of his young collaborator, but he found it hard. James was young and in love, if outrageously inappropriately so, and Nayland Smith understood that only too well. There were days that he regretted not taking Fah Lo Suee up on her offer, which had included not only a renewal of their relationship but access to the Elixir Vitae… to be young again, imagine that. The regret rarely lasted any longer than half a second though. The price to pay was just too steep by far.
‘I was down at the Regent’s Arms having a pint with Bill Tanner, an old classmate from Eton who works at the foreign office. Guess what? We have apparently sued for peace with Germany last week and today we have received a reply!’
‘Is that something to look happy about, Mr Bond?’ Nayland said with sharp disapproval. ‘I didn’t think our situation was that desperate. Imagine, Brittania humbling herself to the Hun only to be humiliated by his rebuke… I never thought I’d live to see the day!’ he concluded sadly.
‘That’s the thing, Sir, it wasn’t a rebuke, at least not completely! I mean, Adolf was clearly not too happy with the terms we offered, hence the Blitz and all, but the stiff resistance our flyboys have been putting up must have made him reconsider. According to Bill, Adolf’s offer is… well, it’s outrageous in itself, of course, but not too shabby, all things considered. Let’s see if I can remember…’
Bond started to tick of the conditions with his fingers; ‘Germany to evacuate France and Belgium who are to form a neutral block guaranteed by both powers, Pétain government to remain in office until next general election this spring, forced retirement with full pension and amnesty for Free French officers, other stipulations of the Franco-German peace treaty to remain and be recognised by Britain… I guess that means Germany keeps Alsace and Lorraine and the frogs still get to pay indemnities. Luxemburg to remain German, tough luck. Belgium to secede Eastern Vallonia…Britain will have to recognise Germany’s new western border and her protectorate over Denmark and Norway. That I hate, the Norwegians are still fighting hard, much good that will do them now… Germany will recognise our protectorate over Iceland and Greenland… Regarding Poland, the status of that country will never constitute cassus belli between Britain and Germany. I guess we agree to disagree on that one… Mutual non-aggression pacts all around… Not a word about their old colonies… Sir? Why are you gaping like that? Do you feel well? Shall I pick up your pipe? Sir?’
Nayland Smith had been staring at Bond open-mouthed, while a cold hand of fear around his heart fought with the fluttering butterflies of hope for his undivided attention.
‘He lost it, by Jove! Fu Manchu has lost control over Hitler!’ Nayland Smith rose behind his desk, his face radiant with excitement. ‘Lord Halifax is a dove, he might well consider those terms to be acceptable, and the last thing Fu Manchu wants is peace between Germany and Britain! He’d never let Hitler present a proposal like this! But that means…’
‘What, Sir? What does it mean?’
‘The Prime Minister is in danger! If Fu Manchu has lost control over the German side of this war, his only recourse to keep us fighting would be… assassinating Lord Halifax! Good God, Bond, don’t you see, if he was killed, then Churchill would take over, and he’s as hawkish as they get. HE won’t even answer the German proposal, and if we didn’t have the Pan-Asian Empire of Fu Manchu to deal with, I’d cheer him for it! But as it is…’
‘No matter what outcome we’d prefer from the peace negotiations, Sir, our duty is clear. We must protect the Prime Minister, with our lives if needs be.’ Bond was suddenly looking very serious.
‘Of course we do, Mr Bond, of course we do! Hurry over to 10 Downing Street as fast as you can, I’ll call and let them know you’re coming and follow you as soon as I can. Be prepared for anything, you know how devious Fu Manchu can be when it comes to assassinations… but in this case he must be desperate and in a hurry, so don’t rule out a more brutal and ruthless approach!’
‘No Sir! At once Sir!’ The young agent all but ran for the door, not failing to pick up his hat from the hanger.
‘And James?’
Bond stopped at the door of Nayland Smith’s office, looking back at his boss.
‘Do bring a real gun, will you?’ Nayland Smith tossed him his Webley, which Bond deftly caught and tucked below his belt at the small of his back. ‘That little Beretta of yours is great for stealth, but this is not a time for such niceties.’
‘Sir!’
London, 10 Downing Street
British Empire
December 6th, 1939
Lord Halifax was glad for the fireplace in his new office, especially on days like this. The bitter winter cold seemed to sap the warmth out of even 10 Downing Street, adding to the gloom of impending defeat. A negotiated defeat, perhaps, but a defeat none the less. And yet what could he do? The attacks on London had to stop, and from what “Duffy” Dowding told him, Fighter Command wouldn’t be able to stop them any time soon, in fact losses had been terrible in the RAF fighter arm since most every type of plane in the inventory except the still very scarce Spitfire’s were clearly inferior to the Luftwaffe planes. The Defiants and Gladiators were being slaughtered to the point that they would have been withdrawn had there been any kind of replacement, the Hurricanes and the few P-40s bought from America were barely holding their own and suffering heavily…only the Spitfires could take on the Messerschmitts with any kind of confidence, and their proportion of the total number was still infinitesimal. If only they had had another six or eight months to prepare…
They were still exacting a very heavy price of the Luftwaffe, but the Germans were also learning after their initial losses. Their twin-engine heavy fighters were no longer used as escorts, a role in which they didn’t excel, but instead were sent on free-ranging fighter sweeps where they would dive down on RAF fighters, strafe and bomb airfields, radar stations and road- and rail traffic. As long as they didn’t try to engage in turn fights, they could outrun every RAF fighter except the Spitfires and out-climb even them – and no Spitfires could be spared to deal with these raiders. The trend was clear – the RAF was giving more punishment than it was taking but was still loosing the battle of Britain. The best solution, according to Dowding would have been to let Jerry have his way with London, defend only north of the maximum range of the Messerschmitt 109s and build up fighter strength until spring, when German air superiority would have to be challenged to prevent an invasion… but apart from the political price to pay, could Britain in the long run hope to defeat a foe that controlled most of the European continent? And even if she could, wouldn’t that just leave the field open to the Soviets, who had shown their true face with Finland?
The Prime Minister sighed, poured himself a scotch with soda and walked over to the fireplace where the house servants had prepared a crackling log fire for him. Sighing, he sat down in an armchair that had been his favourite when Chamberlain was PM. There was no way around it. He’d have to accept Hitler’s offer, distasteful as it was. He would try to make the German dictator back down over Norway, and not only because he sympathised with the plight of the brave Norwegians; the Lords of the Admiralty had had conniption fits about the idea of Kriegsmarine naval bases in the Norse fiords. Still, if Hitler proved inflexible, it was better to have German warships in the fiords that didn’t attack British shipping than ones that did, and tough luck for the Norwegians. At least peace would mean that some help could be sent to the Finns through the Baltic.
Suddenly Lord Halifax heard a scraping noise coming from the fireplace, and was intrigued enough that he looked at the fire. There seemed to be some sort of crooked thin tube sticking down from the chimney over the flames. It moved slightly, as if someone was holding it, and the PM saw light reflected from something smooth and polished at its end. A lens?
Now the door to the office was thrown wide open and a young man came rushing in, still in winter coat and hat and with a gun in hand and looking about wildly. Lord Halifax forgot all about strange tubes and lenses. An assassin? Here? He was so surprised that he didn’t even get frightened.
‘Get away from the fireplace, SIR!’ the young man shouted and ran like a madman through the spacious office, straight at the PM who rose unsteadily from his armchair. As the young intruder brutally grabbed the senior statesman’s arm and half dragged, half threw him towards the door of the office, something fell down the chimney, crashed into the flaming fire sending glowing cinders and burning coals in all directions and rolled out onto the carpeted floor. It looked a lot like bowling ball made of bolted steel sheet. As soon as it stopped rolling, there was a tiny explosion inside the ball, which pushed out the bolts, along with a thick, smelly mist that immediately inundated the room. The last thing the PM saw before he was thrown down the stairs outside of the office were tendrils of this white mist rolling towards the blazing fireplace.
…and then a titanic explosion ripped apart most of 10 Downing Street. An enormous fireball pushed up through the roof, sending debris flying in all directions. The floor of the PMs study collapsed, crashing down on the one below and shattering it as well. The outer walls toppled like a pile of dominoes…
As he ran panting towards the building, Nayland Smith watched in horror as the gutted residence of the Prime Minister collapsed in on itself in an enormous cloud of plaster dust, fire and black smoke. He didn’t notice a black-clad figure hugging the chimney of a nearby building. If he had, he wouldn’t have cared much. It was too late, altogether too late.
British Empire
December 6th, 1939
Bond’s hat flew artfully through the air to land on one of the empty hooks of the wooden clothes hanger standing next to the door of Sir Dennis’s office.
‘Get this!’ James Bond shouted, running into the office in what the elderly crime fighter and spy considered a most undignified fashion. He didn’t even take the time to hang up his sodden coat. The young intelligence officer looked excited, and not so little pleased.
‘Report please, Mr Bond,’ Nayland Smith demanded in a dry tone of voice. One of these days he’d have to reign in the exuberance of his young collaborator, but he found it hard. James was young and in love, if outrageously inappropriately so, and Nayland Smith understood that only too well. There were days that he regretted not taking Fah Lo Suee up on her offer, which had included not only a renewal of their relationship but access to the Elixir Vitae… to be young again, imagine that. The regret rarely lasted any longer than half a second though. The price to pay was just too steep by far.
‘I was down at the Regent’s Arms having a pint with Bill Tanner, an old classmate from Eton who works at the foreign office. Guess what? We have apparently sued for peace with Germany last week and today we have received a reply!’
‘Is that something to look happy about, Mr Bond?’ Nayland said with sharp disapproval. ‘I didn’t think our situation was that desperate. Imagine, Brittania humbling herself to the Hun only to be humiliated by his rebuke… I never thought I’d live to see the day!’ he concluded sadly.
‘That’s the thing, Sir, it wasn’t a rebuke, at least not completely! I mean, Adolf was clearly not too happy with the terms we offered, hence the Blitz and all, but the stiff resistance our flyboys have been putting up must have made him reconsider. According to Bill, Adolf’s offer is… well, it’s outrageous in itself, of course, but not too shabby, all things considered. Let’s see if I can remember…’
Bond started to tick of the conditions with his fingers; ‘Germany to evacuate France and Belgium who are to form a neutral block guaranteed by both powers, Pétain government to remain in office until next general election this spring, forced retirement with full pension and amnesty for Free French officers, other stipulations of the Franco-German peace treaty to remain and be recognised by Britain… I guess that means Germany keeps Alsace and Lorraine and the frogs still get to pay indemnities. Luxemburg to remain German, tough luck. Belgium to secede Eastern Vallonia…Britain will have to recognise Germany’s new western border and her protectorate over Denmark and Norway. That I hate, the Norwegians are still fighting hard, much good that will do them now… Germany will recognise our protectorate over Iceland and Greenland… Regarding Poland, the status of that country will never constitute cassus belli between Britain and Germany. I guess we agree to disagree on that one… Mutual non-aggression pacts all around… Not a word about their old colonies… Sir? Why are you gaping like that? Do you feel well? Shall I pick up your pipe? Sir?’
Nayland Smith had been staring at Bond open-mouthed, while a cold hand of fear around his heart fought with the fluttering butterflies of hope for his undivided attention.
‘He lost it, by Jove! Fu Manchu has lost control over Hitler!’ Nayland Smith rose behind his desk, his face radiant with excitement. ‘Lord Halifax is a dove, he might well consider those terms to be acceptable, and the last thing Fu Manchu wants is peace between Germany and Britain! He’d never let Hitler present a proposal like this! But that means…’
‘What, Sir? What does it mean?’
‘The Prime Minister is in danger! If Fu Manchu has lost control over the German side of this war, his only recourse to keep us fighting would be… assassinating Lord Halifax! Good God, Bond, don’t you see, if he was killed, then Churchill would take over, and he’s as hawkish as they get. HE won’t even answer the German proposal, and if we didn’t have the Pan-Asian Empire of Fu Manchu to deal with, I’d cheer him for it! But as it is…’
‘No matter what outcome we’d prefer from the peace negotiations, Sir, our duty is clear. We must protect the Prime Minister, with our lives if needs be.’ Bond was suddenly looking very serious.
‘Of course we do, Mr Bond, of course we do! Hurry over to 10 Downing Street as fast as you can, I’ll call and let them know you’re coming and follow you as soon as I can. Be prepared for anything, you know how devious Fu Manchu can be when it comes to assassinations… but in this case he must be desperate and in a hurry, so don’t rule out a more brutal and ruthless approach!’
‘No Sir! At once Sir!’ The young agent all but ran for the door, not failing to pick up his hat from the hanger.
‘And James?’
Bond stopped at the door of Nayland Smith’s office, looking back at his boss.
‘Do bring a real gun, will you?’ Nayland Smith tossed him his Webley, which Bond deftly caught and tucked below his belt at the small of his back. ‘That little Beretta of yours is great for stealth, but this is not a time for such niceties.’
‘Sir!’
London, 10 Downing Street
British Empire
December 6th, 1939
Lord Halifax was glad for the fireplace in his new office, especially on days like this. The bitter winter cold seemed to sap the warmth out of even 10 Downing Street, adding to the gloom of impending defeat. A negotiated defeat, perhaps, but a defeat none the less. And yet what could he do? The attacks on London had to stop, and from what “Duffy” Dowding told him, Fighter Command wouldn’t be able to stop them any time soon, in fact losses had been terrible in the RAF fighter arm since most every type of plane in the inventory except the still very scarce Spitfire’s were clearly inferior to the Luftwaffe planes. The Defiants and Gladiators were being slaughtered to the point that they would have been withdrawn had there been any kind of replacement, the Hurricanes and the few P-40s bought from America were barely holding their own and suffering heavily…only the Spitfires could take on the Messerschmitts with any kind of confidence, and their proportion of the total number was still infinitesimal. If only they had had another six or eight months to prepare…
They were still exacting a very heavy price of the Luftwaffe, but the Germans were also learning after their initial losses. Their twin-engine heavy fighters were no longer used as escorts, a role in which they didn’t excel, but instead were sent on free-ranging fighter sweeps where they would dive down on RAF fighters, strafe and bomb airfields, radar stations and road- and rail traffic. As long as they didn’t try to engage in turn fights, they could outrun every RAF fighter except the Spitfires and out-climb even them – and no Spitfires could be spared to deal with these raiders. The trend was clear – the RAF was giving more punishment than it was taking but was still loosing the battle of Britain. The best solution, according to Dowding would have been to let Jerry have his way with London, defend only north of the maximum range of the Messerschmitt 109s and build up fighter strength until spring, when German air superiority would have to be challenged to prevent an invasion… but apart from the political price to pay, could Britain in the long run hope to defeat a foe that controlled most of the European continent? And even if she could, wouldn’t that just leave the field open to the Soviets, who had shown their true face with Finland?
The Prime Minister sighed, poured himself a scotch with soda and walked over to the fireplace where the house servants had prepared a crackling log fire for him. Sighing, he sat down in an armchair that had been his favourite when Chamberlain was PM. There was no way around it. He’d have to accept Hitler’s offer, distasteful as it was. He would try to make the German dictator back down over Norway, and not only because he sympathised with the plight of the brave Norwegians; the Lords of the Admiralty had had conniption fits about the idea of Kriegsmarine naval bases in the Norse fiords. Still, if Hitler proved inflexible, it was better to have German warships in the fiords that didn’t attack British shipping than ones that did, and tough luck for the Norwegians. At least peace would mean that some help could be sent to the Finns through the Baltic.
Suddenly Lord Halifax heard a scraping noise coming from the fireplace, and was intrigued enough that he looked at the fire. There seemed to be some sort of crooked thin tube sticking down from the chimney over the flames. It moved slightly, as if someone was holding it, and the PM saw light reflected from something smooth and polished at its end. A lens?
Now the door to the office was thrown wide open and a young man came rushing in, still in winter coat and hat and with a gun in hand and looking about wildly. Lord Halifax forgot all about strange tubes and lenses. An assassin? Here? He was so surprised that he didn’t even get frightened.
‘Get away from the fireplace, SIR!’ the young man shouted and ran like a madman through the spacious office, straight at the PM who rose unsteadily from his armchair. As the young intruder brutally grabbed the senior statesman’s arm and half dragged, half threw him towards the door of the office, something fell down the chimney, crashed into the flaming fire sending glowing cinders and burning coals in all directions and rolled out onto the carpeted floor. It looked a lot like bowling ball made of bolted steel sheet. As soon as it stopped rolling, there was a tiny explosion inside the ball, which pushed out the bolts, along with a thick, smelly mist that immediately inundated the room. The last thing the PM saw before he was thrown down the stairs outside of the office were tendrils of this white mist rolling towards the blazing fireplace.
…and then a titanic explosion ripped apart most of 10 Downing Street. An enormous fireball pushed up through the roof, sending debris flying in all directions. The floor of the PMs study collapsed, crashing down on the one below and shattering it as well. The outer walls toppled like a pile of dominoes…
As he ran panting towards the building, Nayland Smith watched in horror as the gutted residence of the Prime Minister collapsed in on itself in an enormous cloud of plaster dust, fire and black smoke. He didn’t notice a black-clad figure hugging the chimney of a nearby building. If he had, he wouldn’t have cared much. It was too late, altogether too late.
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Great plot twist! I didn't even see it coming, but when it hit me it was just like "Ohh!"
But if Halifax has died, it means Bond has died too!
However, I'd think that if somehow convinced this was the action of german assassins, Halifax would convert himself into a big hawk, and the murder would be unnecessary.
Anyway, thrilling last updates, Yogi. Way to go!
However, I'd think that if somehow convinced this was the action of german assassins, Halifax would convert himself into a big hawk, and the murder would be unnecessary.
Anyway, thrilling last updates, Yogi. Way to go!
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Are all of you unfamiliar with the conventions of movies and storytelling? If there is an ambigiously written potential death scene followed by a massive explosion that leaves behind no body, then the persons involved are not dead and shall return at some point in the plot.
Still, a very nice and tense update, that leaves us all waiting for the next one with great eagerness. Who knows, maybe Yogi will surprise us and actually kill off James Bond?
Still, a very nice and tense update, that leaves us all waiting for the next one with great eagerness. Who knows, maybe Yogi will surprise us and actually kill off James Bond?
What? i missed 2 updates! IMPOSSIBLE!
but they are some goooood updates!!!!
btw, welcome back Yogi!
p.s Can we expect update on your other aar too now? (i know i know im a greedy man... but...)
but they are some goooood updates!!!!
btw, welcome back Yogi!
p.s Can we expect update on your other aar too now?
(i know i know im a greedy man... but...)
cthulhu said:*whispers* We know, we know, but please play along...
*Whispers back*Oh, right...
*Horrified voice* Oh my god, he killed Bond and Halifax!
All these updates in the last four days - I feel dizzy. The Soviet Union, I feel, is the unknown right now. They've the potential to tip the war either way so the questionis how far Fu has infiltrated the Soviet government. It's one helluva wild card.
Wow. Very impressive update.
I'm anxious to see just how Stalin will react (perhaps forced by Fu to react?) to these new developments and whether or not Halifax will still try to make peace after having his residence blown up.
I'm anxious to see just how Stalin will react (perhaps forced by Fu to react?) to these new developments and whether or not Halifax will still try to make peace after having his residence blown up.
