Fragmented Lies

Prologue

Fragmented Lies

A OUAT spy fanfiction, inspired by James Bond 007.

(Please note that it will be best to ONLY read if you HAVE seen "No time to die" there will be certain plot points that I have stolen from that movie. (No worries, I won't do the ending like "No time to die") Unless you never plan on seeing the movie then by all means go ahead and read this. Thanks)

NB: please note that I have NO clue how agents can and will work across borders, what rules and regulations there are within the CIA or MI6. I'm just jumping into the deep end with this one.

A huge thanks to Zahara for going over this long prologue. (might be one of my longest chapters yet)

The cover Image (the 007 fan art in the background) is made by the wonderfully talented Julia Volkova (Twitter: @WildWerewolf )

Prologue

"Don't fuck this one up, Jones!" M's warning rang in his ears as he walked briskly towards the furniture shop called "The Wizard of Oak", his target of observation today. Killian Jones rolled his eyes when reading the sign above the door, "the place where you'll find your home". Determined to make this mission a success, he'd prepared himself for these next steps. Contacting his old friend David Nolan, hoping the CIA agent would be able to pull the strings needed on his side of the pond. When the reports came back from David, Killian had spent a few days in New York planning the next move.

M and MI6 were following up on a lead that pointed towards the owner of the shop, Mr Walsh, who allegedly was involved in some money laundering, all connected to a Mr Gold. Mr Gold was on MI6's radar after reports back from several agents around the world, all showing some activity that pointed towards the man. Gold was one of the world's most wanted, the Croc as he was dubbed by most agencies around the world. A horrible accident in his past, something involving nuclear bio weapon experiments going askew. Parts of the files M had given him had been redacted so Killian had not been able to read what caused the accident. But the outcome had high consequences for Mr Gold; his skin had turned into a puckered and potmarked mess that resembled scales, thus the name The Crocodile, or the Croc.

Tugging at his shirtsleeves, adjusting the cuffs as he rolled his shoulders, preparing himself for the recon he was set out to do, Killian opened the door. He cringed at the obnoxious loud ring the bell above the door gave, but it could not be helped and he set about doing his job. His eyes scanned the large open shop, beds lining the furthest wall, an array of couches and recliners was set out in several mockup living room settings. Large green potted plants lined the aisles, smaller tables scattered in between. To the left the dining room sets were arranged with accompanying crockery and centerpieces, and to his right the cash register. A brown haired man stood there with his eyes trained on the computer screen, his eyes lifted and he nodded in greeting. Killian gave him a polite smile in return, then nodded towards the shop, indicating he was just looking.

The man waved his hand towards the furniture, "Please look around, let me know if I can help you?"

Turning left he sauntered to the dining room tables, letting his fingers slide over the different types of chairs. He moved in a slow circle around the tables and scanned the room in front of him. The owner, he'd recognized the man as Mr Walsh, was still working at his computer paying less attention to his patrons than he probably should have but that would only work to Killian's advantage, if he was as absorbed as his demeanor suggested.

Suddenly his eyes caught sight of blond hair sticking out over the backrest of a recliner, back in the living room area. Tilting his head sideways he quietly walked towards whomever it was.