FA+
Shop
564 submissions
Cassssino Royale - 'Run' - Alfas ANIMATION
The animation above is by 
Alfas, check out and compliment his post of it, here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36486630/
The short Sond moment above is based upon this scene: https://youtu.be/iZxNbAwY_rk?t=255 [This link takes you to the exact moment, but the whole chase scene is great, as well!]
~
14 years ago today, Casino Royale was released!
But right now, it's midnight where I am, so do I mean the 16th or the 17th of November?
I mean both!
After the big London premiere on the 14th (where it was shown at the same time in three different venues in Leicester Square for a collection of various exclusive invitees/VIPs), it had its general release across the UK and many other countries on November 16th, and the release across North America and a number of other countries on November 17th. So I thought it would be nice to straddle both dates, now, at the moment that stands more or less between the two.
Anyway, I've already said how wonderful Casino Royale is, how it's perhaps the best Bond film ever. And even if I didn't say that, the fact that I have SIX other 'Cassssino Royale' Sond submissions uploaded should tell you something.
Here they are:
The Cassssino Royale poster and a written scene from near the end of the film
Inkwash rendering of a moment from the pre-title sequence + CR scene 0
Portrait of the stars of 'Casssino Royale' + CR scene 1
Collage of images from 'Casssino Royale' + CR scene 2
Screenshot from 'Casssino Royale'
'Casssino Royale' scene 3 (many scenes, in fact)
'Casssino Royale' concept art + CR scene 4
-
Thanks as always to
WhiteMantis for originally helping to set me on this Sondian path, and also to Alfas for his fabulous work on this animation!
Also, it's good to know that Alfas thinks the Sond series will still be going, far into the future: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36810363/ :}===<
Of course, there's the accompanying Sond scene for this animation, below.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~
'Run' - excerpt from the novelization of Cassssino Royale, by Amend Penson
~
~~
~
Father always said to never trust anyone in a suit.
Pompous people in such clothes were one thing, but to wear such things in a place as hot as their home... it was dishonesty atop snobbery, damning oneself for the sake of what? Appearances?
Everyone is the same, on the inside. A beating heart, blood, muscle, bones, and a feeling mind.
There may be different arrangements of the parts, making different shapes. There were various hides, pelts and coverings atop them, on the outside; but deep down was the same interior. People who tried to cover it all up too much were hiding something, or fooling themselves, while trying to swindle others.
~
The differing shapes and fighting styles of a cobra-naga and two anthro mongeese made for a very exciting back-streets sandpit brawl.
A black rabbit, one half of his face marred by scar tissue, cheered on the pair of mammals, against the serpent. Two would beat one, of course! They were quicker, lighter on their paws, unlike the long, slender reptile, who didn't even have legs!
When the rabbit, Mollaka, received a text on his phone, his mind was ripped out of the drama of the fight, though.
The job was coming. So soon now.
He had come here to take his mind off of it, and now it was here again, slapping him in the sensitive ear. He looked up, suddenly apart from the crush and chaos of the cheering crowd around him, all focused on the dance of unarmed combat below.
That's when he saw the human with his hand on his ear.
The fight, his bet. It was all so far away, in an instant.
And soon, so too would he be.
~
Father also didn't trust people in shoes.
It cut them off from the Earth - as if people were plants that needed roots, the young son reasoned. The small lapine thought this was profound, but as he grew, he scoffed at the concept.
But he still didn't wear shoes.
Of course, most people don't. That's mostly a human thing.
It had always struck Mollaka odd to see a perfectly healthy paw or claw caged like that.
~
The human had been easily tackled into the fight pit, landing on the cobra's coils, earning him an angry hiss and the jeers of the crowd as everything in the open air arena ground to a halt.
Mollaka had known there would be at least one other. The human had been talking to SOMEONE over a radio, given the obvious earpiece-fingering.
He ran and ran. He was good at it. He followed the flow of the world, and it led him to a construction site, where a surging jump and clamber put him over a long fence.
The construction was to be a hotel for the rich, he knew. Yet another place for foreigners to stay, where his kin would work for next to nothing, just to survive. Living on the scraps of the society above.
The long-legged lapine paused after advancing into the yard of yet-to-be-used materials laid out around the perimeter of the site. He was wondering if he had lost his pursuer.. but also considered the possibility of sabotage against the hotel, when all the workers were gone home for the night. He would just need a delivery man.
Knowing that his hunter might rush in as obvious as could be, the rabbit drew his gun, ready to ambush.
The sound of the landmover tearing through a temporary hut made Mollaka turn his head back while he ran forward all the faster, firing at the vehicle's cab as he did so. Who WAS this, after him?
There was a glimpse of a reptilian shape in the heavy equipment's driver seat before the shovel lifted, blocking his shots. Mollaka gave that up to leap and climb onto a raised concrete structure of the hotel's base. His upward movement had slowed his forward momentum, and suddenly the landmover was on his tail, crashing into the edge of the concrete, making the stone-like material crumble with the force of it. As the lapine male sped away, his legs were only narrowly missed by fist-sized flying debris from the impact.
As close a call as this first piece of upward escape had been, Mollaka decided more was needed. From atop a generator he jumped onto, he leapt as high as he could, latching onto a vertical girder, scrambling to claw his way up, using a grip on the other side of it to give his paws enough purchase to press upward, legs pumping madly, arms swinging continuously for fresh grips, pulling him up as well.
In seconds, he was onto a horizontal plane of girders, the first floor of the hotel to come, presumably. The workers all gawked at him as he paused a moment, catching his breath.
Then all heads turned to the sound of an urgent yelling. Someone below was shouting about a crane. A small outrigger truck-based boom crane was swinging around, and.. a python-naga was surging up the still-moving arm of the crane, spiraling fast to grip and push and flow up the moving, still extending metal.
Mollaka could see the outcome before it happened, and took off running again. The serpent was on track to be able to lunge his coily self across a gap at the top of the crane's position to come in a moment, and into the grid of girders.
~
When Mollaka had been introduced to the strange, white-furred gazelle 'gentleman' in the dark suit, it had been in the back of a dive bar, in Antananarivo.
He should have turned and walked out, right then and there. No apology, no words.
When the rabbit saw the weird leathery coverings on the thin lower legs, he would have laughed if he wasn't busy suppressing a surge of unease.
Hooves always seemed to him to be the least in need of protection. Doing so was the most unnatural thing he could think of.
Just how exceedingly false was this man?
The name was clearly a pseudonym.
"My friend, meet Mr White," said the lizard, who was not Mollaka's friend. He was just a means to an end.
But, Mr White was suddenly clearly not the end Mollaka had sought.
And yet there was no turning back. The point of no return had been years and years ago.
Back when Mollaka had made his first bomb.
~
There had been more leaping and scrambling onto thick metal beams, more shooting that the snake had managed to dodge. Mollaka was a bomb-maker, not a sharpshooter.
At the top of the girders, there had been a dangling payload of pipes. Glancing up, Mollaka had seen four thin cables leading up to a towering blue crane, which itself loomed over the whole of the construction site. He knew he could climb any one of them, and was fairly certain that a serpent could never use any of them to ascend.
He had thought he was safe as he struggled to haul himself up those cables.
And then the naga had simply curled up on the crane's hook block, which held the payload, and flicked the release. The bundle of large pipes crashed down onto and through the girders below, while the hook block sailed straight upwards, the snake calmly coiled atop it, looking up at Mollaka as he glanced down to see his pursuer still coming.
Windswept, the top of the arm of the huge crane tower was perilously narrow. The rabbit was sure-footed, but he sneered, thinking of the snake's advantage, the heavy body able to drape over both sides to keep itself stable, or just wrap fully around the triangular frame.
Where had his advantage gone? All his jumping, his quickness, his lightness, was it all for naught? He gripped the pistol, aiming at where he thought the snake would appear from below. The naga's torso, clad in an open dingy-looking patterned shirt that was barely buttoned in the heat and a grey undershirt, sprang up from the framework below, beginning to glide his weight onto the thin, long platform that ran the length of the giant crane arm.
Immediately, Mollaka pulled the trigger, three times.
To his surprise, he was out of bullets. The snake didn't seem surprised. Had he known? The way the constrictor crossed his arms and smirked told Mollaka he did. Snarling in frustration, the rabbit threw the gun at the naga, wishing he could bash him in the scaly head with it, directly.
The python, with arms still crossed, deftly caught the pistol with his tail and whipped it back around his head, as if slingshotting a rocket around the moon, as if Mollaka's own throw was turned against him. In truth, the tail did all the work. The rabbit was already turning to run, blocking the gunmetal impact with an arm.
It still hurt.
But what he was about to do would hurt more.. and leave the stupid snake behind, once and for all.
Maybe the naga had thought he had the mammal trapped, up here. No more bullets, no where else to run.
But there was always somewhere else to run..
To jump.
Running along the crane, Mollaka leapt mightily into the near-constant wind that exists 150 feet in the air.
~
Father's teachings had never said anything about bombs.
There had been mention of blades and guns, and how vile they were as tools of death. Such unnatural things.
But Mollaka, as he grew, took another tack: Claws were natural, teeth were natural. Blades were just better sharpened claws, in essense.
A rabbit needed an edge on a tiger. Death was a natural part of life, as well.
If the one who hunted you had bigger teeth, get better claws. If your hunter had a gun, get a bigger one.
And always be able to run. The weapons are for if you are forced into a corner.
But what if your people, your kin, are all forced into a corner in society? What then?
A bomb had seemed the answer. But that was so long ago, now.
Before the accident, before the scars.
Before the looks from passersby that seemed so accusing, though he tried to tell himself they were merely curious.
~
There was a second crane.
Shorter in arm, lower in height, but it was there, above the hotel-to-be's roof. Mollaka had made it, his powerful legs feeling like they might break as he landed, bending until he was almost sitting on the metal-tube-frame edge of the towering construction equipment.
He grinned, looking up as he began to shimmy along to make the easier jump to the roof. The serpent would need to slither his way down the other crane's vertical tower section.
The rabbit was as good as gone.
An easy hop down another 20 feet onto the roof, and he checked on the serpent's progress. Maybe he would just be watching his prey run off, in a dejected heap of coils.
Instead, Mollaka didn't quite understand what he was seeing, at first. The snake was bunched up in what looked like a striking pose, tight back-and-forth curls of tensed muscle.. but he was facing the wrong way. Suddenly, the python lunged into midair, away from the second, lower crane.
Was he committing suicide for having failed in his mission?
Then Mollaka saw the tail was still latched onto the crane. The launch in the wrong direction was to help begin a massive swing of the whole of the naga, in the proper direction. The hunter's torso swung long and low and seemed to pick up speed, thanks to the tail and the long body bending in the wind. The naga's shirt flapped audibly and his arms stretched out and..
Mollaka stopped watching and turned away. He didn't need to see the snake's claws latch onto the metal of the lower crane. He heard the clang as he ran away off the roof, into an uncomplete stairwell.
If he had to guess, the rabbit imagined that the snake would release his tail and let it swing to the roof of the building, to get a 'footing' there, so to speak.
The question was: Would the naga's arms be able to support all the dead weight that his legless bulk constituted? The lapine didn't care to find out personally. If the snake lost his grip, all the better, but if his move was successful, best to be as far away as possible. He cursed himself for allowing himself the gloating pleasure of looking back up at his opponent at all. He could have been so far gone by now!
~
Funny how father's words about the insides of a person seemed to hold true about bombs too.
They all had the same insides. Explosives, trigger, wiring. So many differing outward shapes.
That comparison had helped him continue.
It took a very long time to shake the nagging thought about how unnatural it was to make such things.
He consoled himself that he was never the one to actually use them.
Until now.
It seemed impossible: Soon, he would fly to a place he had never been, dress as someone he was not and destroy a thing he had never heard of.
And he did not know why. But, he did not want to know, truly.
The lizard and the gazelle, people he met through people, the chaining links as tenuous as could be - they had said there would be very little death.
It would just be a big, empty, lifeless thing to be left in pieces.
~
Through the floors of the building, Mollaka tore, dodging workers and their tools. Even he felt a bit foolish when he realized he was leaping over a running buzz-saw table and the hunched-down horse who was operating it.
Descending had to be easier on the snake. While Mollaka had to bounce his way down elevator shafts or along landings of stairs, jumping over all the stairs themselves, he imagined the python, behind him. He could picture the serpent flowing to the edge of one floor and then just twisting around in midair and gliding down in the other direction, on the floor below.
The snake had used different routes down, almost cutting the mammal off, here and there, almost cornering him twice already.
The rabbit was desperate to find something that would stop the snake. What was his advantage now? He was.. smaller!
In a moment, something appeared ahead of him.. a small vent-hole atop a solid wall, yes! A completed wall amid so much open space and metal frames a serpent could slip through as easily as the rabbit could. Speeding toward the wall with hole at the top, he jumped up to grab a pipe affixed to the ceiling, swinging his legs into the hole, arms already pushing his body through the small hole, flowing through without even scraping himself on the lower edge of the option that was probably meant for ductwork, in the near future.
He landed and kept jogging, a smile on his face.
Then the sound of something bursting through drywall pricked up Mollaka's ears and his head whipped around to see the snake shake off a fine layer of gypsum dust.
Not as solid as he had thought, he sighed to himself, and kept going. A window loomed ahead, and a moving elevator of sorts. Without thinking, he jumped to the descending elevator, bouncing on, leaping again. Never could he have stopped on such a small space, not with all that momentum. He skidded to a stop on the concrete of a floor several lower than three seconds prior. He knew the snake couldn't use the elevator, it was already too low and would be even lower with every passing second.
By now, Mollaka knew to not even watch. He sprinted down the nearest set of stairs he saw.
He had a clear goal in mind, now.
Leave the construction site behind - but not just to run into some dark corner to hide in, and hope he lost the snake. No, this reptile was too tenacious. He needed official protection. Even if it would be a huge hassle to then extricate himself from the resulting, cloying bureaucracy.
He would go to the embassy.
~
'Mr White' had asked the impossible.
He had also offered what seemed to be an impossible amount of money.
How could Mollaka refuse?
He could not. It was this simple.
And now he was damned if he would be swayed from this plan.
He needed the money.
To help his people? Or to help himself? To escape.
To escape his past misdeeds, his career of doing unnatural things.
Things his father's words had been meant to guide him away from.
Of this, Mollaka was now sure.
The pay was more than enough for both.
~
The embassy had felt safe for perhaps one minute.
Maybe two.
Then the serpent had slithered into the office of the director Mollaka had been marched into after his hurried dash up to and into the official pocket of Nambutu.
It had paid to have dual citizenship before. But, this time, his pursuer seemed to be truly insane.
The naga appearing there in the door, unstopping, meant that he was seemingly uncaring, unfazed by what he had passed on the way in. The barbed-wire-topped fence, the guards, the guns they all wielded. No, he was some madman, hellbent on hunting down Mollaka. Was this what it had felt like for a rabbit pursued by a snake, in his evolutionary past?
No, no feral serpent would have ever bothered so much. Miss the initial strike, and they'd curl back up. That would have been nice to rely upon.
No, it wasn't hunger that drove the snake, it was some sort of mission. Did he know about Mollaka's job? The money? Is that what he wanted? Or what he wanted to stop?
Unspeaking, the serpent had slammed his tail into Mollaka's chest, knocking him down, then slid to the director. The zebra was in the middle of grabbing his gun out of a drawer. As his hand came up to aim at the naga, the snake wrenched it out of his hand and pistol-whipped the striped equine in the forehead with it, making a small red gash amid all the monochrome.
Still doggedly silent, the scaled one dragged Mollaka out of the room in the clutch of his tail, a heavy blow to the head knocking him half senseless.
From there, it was all a blur.
There was so much shooting at the snake, he worried for his own life: if they hit the coiled tail holding the rabbit, the bullets could pierce him as well.
Before he knew it, they were in the back courtyard of the embassy.
Finally, the madness ceased.
Nearly ten guards were there, and so was the director. The zebra had recovered from the knock to the head and had now ordered the recently rampaging reptile to release the rabbit. It seemed only when stared down by the business end of eight automatic rifles, would the constrictor concede defeat.
Mollaka sighed in relief as the snake's tail loosened from him.
He would get out of this. He would be okay. He would go to America in two days, he would complete his mission.
All that money would be his.
He did not consider that perhaps this was a time to change his life, to divert away from the path that held Mr White and his ilk.
The snake's tail shifted, loosening more, beginning to unfurl, and Mollaka tried to get his footing again, as his weight was moved. It felt as if he was being stood back on his paws again.
But then, he was being hurled by the snaketail.
He was falling through the air, his limbs flailing. He could see the series of large blue acetylene tanks he was tumbling toward, as the guards shouted and dove out of his way.
There was a single shot, a burst of sparks on the head of one of the tanks. There was a blast of hissing gas followed immediately by a rush of light and heat, within which the rabbit was engulfed, utterly.
And nothing further.
~
Mollaka the bomb-maker was no more, his father's teachings both lost and lost upon him.
~~~~~~~~~
Amethystine/Ames Sond 00S and related IP © to his owner.
James Bond 007 and related IP © to Ian Fleming, Albert R Broccoli's EON Productions and MGM.
.
Alfas, check out and compliment his post of it, here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36486630/The short Sond moment above is based upon this scene: https://youtu.be/iZxNbAwY_rk?t=255 [This link takes you to the exact moment, but the whole chase scene is great, as well!]
~
14 years ago today, Casino Royale was released!
But right now, it's midnight where I am, so do I mean the 16th or the 17th of November?
I mean both!
After the big London premiere on the 14th (where it was shown at the same time in three different venues in Leicester Square for a collection of various exclusive invitees/VIPs), it had its general release across the UK and many other countries on November 16th, and the release across North America and a number of other countries on November 17th. So I thought it would be nice to straddle both dates, now, at the moment that stands more or less between the two.
Anyway, I've already said how wonderful Casino Royale is, how it's perhaps the best Bond film ever. And even if I didn't say that, the fact that I have SIX other 'Cassssino Royale' Sond submissions uploaded should tell you something.
Here they are:
The Cassssino Royale poster and a written scene from near the end of the film
Inkwash rendering of a moment from the pre-title sequence + CR scene 0
Portrait of the stars of 'Casssino Royale' + CR scene 1
Collage of images from 'Casssino Royale' + CR scene 2
Screenshot from 'Casssino Royale'
'Casssino Royale' scene 3 (many scenes, in fact)
'Casssino Royale' concept art + CR scene 4
-
Thanks as always to
WhiteMantis for originally helping to set me on this Sondian path, and also to Alfas for his fabulous work on this animation!Also, it's good to know that Alfas thinks the Sond series will still be going, far into the future: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36810363/ :}===<
Of course, there's the accompanying Sond scene for this animation, below.
Enjoy!
~~~~~~
'Run' - excerpt from the novelization of Cassssino Royale, by Amend Penson
~
~~
~
Father always said to never trust anyone in a suit.
Pompous people in such clothes were one thing, but to wear such things in a place as hot as their home... it was dishonesty atop snobbery, damning oneself for the sake of what? Appearances?
Everyone is the same, on the inside. A beating heart, blood, muscle, bones, and a feeling mind.
There may be different arrangements of the parts, making different shapes. There were various hides, pelts and coverings atop them, on the outside; but deep down was the same interior. People who tried to cover it all up too much were hiding something, or fooling themselves, while trying to swindle others.
~
The differing shapes and fighting styles of a cobra-naga and two anthro mongeese made for a very exciting back-streets sandpit brawl.
A black rabbit, one half of his face marred by scar tissue, cheered on the pair of mammals, against the serpent. Two would beat one, of course! They were quicker, lighter on their paws, unlike the long, slender reptile, who didn't even have legs!
When the rabbit, Mollaka, received a text on his phone, his mind was ripped out of the drama of the fight, though.
The job was coming. So soon now.
He had come here to take his mind off of it, and now it was here again, slapping him in the sensitive ear. He looked up, suddenly apart from the crush and chaos of the cheering crowd around him, all focused on the dance of unarmed combat below.
That's when he saw the human with his hand on his ear.
The fight, his bet. It was all so far away, in an instant.
And soon, so too would he be.
~
Father also didn't trust people in shoes.
It cut them off from the Earth - as if people were plants that needed roots, the young son reasoned. The small lapine thought this was profound, but as he grew, he scoffed at the concept.
But he still didn't wear shoes.
Of course, most people don't. That's mostly a human thing.
It had always struck Mollaka odd to see a perfectly healthy paw or claw caged like that.
~
The human had been easily tackled into the fight pit, landing on the cobra's coils, earning him an angry hiss and the jeers of the crowd as everything in the open air arena ground to a halt.
Mollaka had known there would be at least one other. The human had been talking to SOMEONE over a radio, given the obvious earpiece-fingering.
He ran and ran. He was good at it. He followed the flow of the world, and it led him to a construction site, where a surging jump and clamber put him over a long fence.
The construction was to be a hotel for the rich, he knew. Yet another place for foreigners to stay, where his kin would work for next to nothing, just to survive. Living on the scraps of the society above.
The long-legged lapine paused after advancing into the yard of yet-to-be-used materials laid out around the perimeter of the site. He was wondering if he had lost his pursuer.. but also considered the possibility of sabotage against the hotel, when all the workers were gone home for the night. He would just need a delivery man.
Knowing that his hunter might rush in as obvious as could be, the rabbit drew his gun, ready to ambush.
The sound of the landmover tearing through a temporary hut made Mollaka turn his head back while he ran forward all the faster, firing at the vehicle's cab as he did so. Who WAS this, after him?
There was a glimpse of a reptilian shape in the heavy equipment's driver seat before the shovel lifted, blocking his shots. Mollaka gave that up to leap and climb onto a raised concrete structure of the hotel's base. His upward movement had slowed his forward momentum, and suddenly the landmover was on his tail, crashing into the edge of the concrete, making the stone-like material crumble with the force of it. As the lapine male sped away, his legs were only narrowly missed by fist-sized flying debris from the impact.
As close a call as this first piece of upward escape had been, Mollaka decided more was needed. From atop a generator he jumped onto, he leapt as high as he could, latching onto a vertical girder, scrambling to claw his way up, using a grip on the other side of it to give his paws enough purchase to press upward, legs pumping madly, arms swinging continuously for fresh grips, pulling him up as well.
In seconds, he was onto a horizontal plane of girders, the first floor of the hotel to come, presumably. The workers all gawked at him as he paused a moment, catching his breath.
Then all heads turned to the sound of an urgent yelling. Someone below was shouting about a crane. A small outrigger truck-based boom crane was swinging around, and.. a python-naga was surging up the still-moving arm of the crane, spiraling fast to grip and push and flow up the moving, still extending metal.
Mollaka could see the outcome before it happened, and took off running again. The serpent was on track to be able to lunge his coily self across a gap at the top of the crane's position to come in a moment, and into the grid of girders.
~
When Mollaka had been introduced to the strange, white-furred gazelle 'gentleman' in the dark suit, it had been in the back of a dive bar, in Antananarivo.
He should have turned and walked out, right then and there. No apology, no words.
When the rabbit saw the weird leathery coverings on the thin lower legs, he would have laughed if he wasn't busy suppressing a surge of unease.
Hooves always seemed to him to be the least in need of protection. Doing so was the most unnatural thing he could think of.
Just how exceedingly false was this man?
The name was clearly a pseudonym.
"My friend, meet Mr White," said the lizard, who was not Mollaka's friend. He was just a means to an end.
But, Mr White was suddenly clearly not the end Mollaka had sought.
And yet there was no turning back. The point of no return had been years and years ago.
Back when Mollaka had made his first bomb.
~
There had been more leaping and scrambling onto thick metal beams, more shooting that the snake had managed to dodge. Mollaka was a bomb-maker, not a sharpshooter.
At the top of the girders, there had been a dangling payload of pipes. Glancing up, Mollaka had seen four thin cables leading up to a towering blue crane, which itself loomed over the whole of the construction site. He knew he could climb any one of them, and was fairly certain that a serpent could never use any of them to ascend.
He had thought he was safe as he struggled to haul himself up those cables.
And then the naga had simply curled up on the crane's hook block, which held the payload, and flicked the release. The bundle of large pipes crashed down onto and through the girders below, while the hook block sailed straight upwards, the snake calmly coiled atop it, looking up at Mollaka as he glanced down to see his pursuer still coming.
Windswept, the top of the arm of the huge crane tower was perilously narrow. The rabbit was sure-footed, but he sneered, thinking of the snake's advantage, the heavy body able to drape over both sides to keep itself stable, or just wrap fully around the triangular frame.
Where had his advantage gone? All his jumping, his quickness, his lightness, was it all for naught? He gripped the pistol, aiming at where he thought the snake would appear from below. The naga's torso, clad in an open dingy-looking patterned shirt that was barely buttoned in the heat and a grey undershirt, sprang up from the framework below, beginning to glide his weight onto the thin, long platform that ran the length of the giant crane arm.
Immediately, Mollaka pulled the trigger, three times.
To his surprise, he was out of bullets. The snake didn't seem surprised. Had he known? The way the constrictor crossed his arms and smirked told Mollaka he did. Snarling in frustration, the rabbit threw the gun at the naga, wishing he could bash him in the scaly head with it, directly.
The python, with arms still crossed, deftly caught the pistol with his tail and whipped it back around his head, as if slingshotting a rocket around the moon, as if Mollaka's own throw was turned against him. In truth, the tail did all the work. The rabbit was already turning to run, blocking the gunmetal impact with an arm.
It still hurt.
But what he was about to do would hurt more.. and leave the stupid snake behind, once and for all.
Maybe the naga had thought he had the mammal trapped, up here. No more bullets, no where else to run.
But there was always somewhere else to run..
To jump.
Running along the crane, Mollaka leapt mightily into the near-constant wind that exists 150 feet in the air.
~
Father's teachings had never said anything about bombs.
There had been mention of blades and guns, and how vile they were as tools of death. Such unnatural things.
But Mollaka, as he grew, took another tack: Claws were natural, teeth were natural. Blades were just better sharpened claws, in essense.
A rabbit needed an edge on a tiger. Death was a natural part of life, as well.
If the one who hunted you had bigger teeth, get better claws. If your hunter had a gun, get a bigger one.
And always be able to run. The weapons are for if you are forced into a corner.
But what if your people, your kin, are all forced into a corner in society? What then?
A bomb had seemed the answer. But that was so long ago, now.
Before the accident, before the scars.
Before the looks from passersby that seemed so accusing, though he tried to tell himself they were merely curious.
~
There was a second crane.
Shorter in arm, lower in height, but it was there, above the hotel-to-be's roof. Mollaka had made it, his powerful legs feeling like they might break as he landed, bending until he was almost sitting on the metal-tube-frame edge of the towering construction equipment.
He grinned, looking up as he began to shimmy along to make the easier jump to the roof. The serpent would need to slither his way down the other crane's vertical tower section.
The rabbit was as good as gone.
An easy hop down another 20 feet onto the roof, and he checked on the serpent's progress. Maybe he would just be watching his prey run off, in a dejected heap of coils.
Instead, Mollaka didn't quite understand what he was seeing, at first. The snake was bunched up in what looked like a striking pose, tight back-and-forth curls of tensed muscle.. but he was facing the wrong way. Suddenly, the python lunged into midair, away from the second, lower crane.
Was he committing suicide for having failed in his mission?
Then Mollaka saw the tail was still latched onto the crane. The launch in the wrong direction was to help begin a massive swing of the whole of the naga, in the proper direction. The hunter's torso swung long and low and seemed to pick up speed, thanks to the tail and the long body bending in the wind. The naga's shirt flapped audibly and his arms stretched out and..
Mollaka stopped watching and turned away. He didn't need to see the snake's claws latch onto the metal of the lower crane. He heard the clang as he ran away off the roof, into an uncomplete stairwell.
If he had to guess, the rabbit imagined that the snake would release his tail and let it swing to the roof of the building, to get a 'footing' there, so to speak.
The question was: Would the naga's arms be able to support all the dead weight that his legless bulk constituted? The lapine didn't care to find out personally. If the snake lost his grip, all the better, but if his move was successful, best to be as far away as possible. He cursed himself for allowing himself the gloating pleasure of looking back up at his opponent at all. He could have been so far gone by now!
~
Funny how father's words about the insides of a person seemed to hold true about bombs too.
They all had the same insides. Explosives, trigger, wiring. So many differing outward shapes.
That comparison had helped him continue.
It took a very long time to shake the nagging thought about how unnatural it was to make such things.
He consoled himself that he was never the one to actually use them.
Until now.
It seemed impossible: Soon, he would fly to a place he had never been, dress as someone he was not and destroy a thing he had never heard of.
And he did not know why. But, he did not want to know, truly.
The lizard and the gazelle, people he met through people, the chaining links as tenuous as could be - they had said there would be very little death.
It would just be a big, empty, lifeless thing to be left in pieces.
~
Through the floors of the building, Mollaka tore, dodging workers and their tools. Even he felt a bit foolish when he realized he was leaping over a running buzz-saw table and the hunched-down horse who was operating it.
Descending had to be easier on the snake. While Mollaka had to bounce his way down elevator shafts or along landings of stairs, jumping over all the stairs themselves, he imagined the python, behind him. He could picture the serpent flowing to the edge of one floor and then just twisting around in midair and gliding down in the other direction, on the floor below.
The snake had used different routes down, almost cutting the mammal off, here and there, almost cornering him twice already.
The rabbit was desperate to find something that would stop the snake. What was his advantage now? He was.. smaller!
In a moment, something appeared ahead of him.. a small vent-hole atop a solid wall, yes! A completed wall amid so much open space and metal frames a serpent could slip through as easily as the rabbit could. Speeding toward the wall with hole at the top, he jumped up to grab a pipe affixed to the ceiling, swinging his legs into the hole, arms already pushing his body through the small hole, flowing through without even scraping himself on the lower edge of the option that was probably meant for ductwork, in the near future.
He landed and kept jogging, a smile on his face.
Then the sound of something bursting through drywall pricked up Mollaka's ears and his head whipped around to see the snake shake off a fine layer of gypsum dust.
Not as solid as he had thought, he sighed to himself, and kept going. A window loomed ahead, and a moving elevator of sorts. Without thinking, he jumped to the descending elevator, bouncing on, leaping again. Never could he have stopped on such a small space, not with all that momentum. He skidded to a stop on the concrete of a floor several lower than three seconds prior. He knew the snake couldn't use the elevator, it was already too low and would be even lower with every passing second.
By now, Mollaka knew to not even watch. He sprinted down the nearest set of stairs he saw.
He had a clear goal in mind, now.
Leave the construction site behind - but not just to run into some dark corner to hide in, and hope he lost the snake. No, this reptile was too tenacious. He needed official protection. Even if it would be a huge hassle to then extricate himself from the resulting, cloying bureaucracy.
He would go to the embassy.
~
'Mr White' had asked the impossible.
He had also offered what seemed to be an impossible amount of money.
How could Mollaka refuse?
He could not. It was this simple.
And now he was damned if he would be swayed from this plan.
He needed the money.
To help his people? Or to help himself? To escape.
To escape his past misdeeds, his career of doing unnatural things.
Things his father's words had been meant to guide him away from.
Of this, Mollaka was now sure.
The pay was more than enough for both.
~
The embassy had felt safe for perhaps one minute.
Maybe two.
Then the serpent had slithered into the office of the director Mollaka had been marched into after his hurried dash up to and into the official pocket of Nambutu.
It had paid to have dual citizenship before. But, this time, his pursuer seemed to be truly insane.
The naga appearing there in the door, unstopping, meant that he was seemingly uncaring, unfazed by what he had passed on the way in. The barbed-wire-topped fence, the guards, the guns they all wielded. No, he was some madman, hellbent on hunting down Mollaka. Was this what it had felt like for a rabbit pursued by a snake, in his evolutionary past?
No, no feral serpent would have ever bothered so much. Miss the initial strike, and they'd curl back up. That would have been nice to rely upon.
No, it wasn't hunger that drove the snake, it was some sort of mission. Did he know about Mollaka's job? The money? Is that what he wanted? Or what he wanted to stop?
Unspeaking, the serpent had slammed his tail into Mollaka's chest, knocking him down, then slid to the director. The zebra was in the middle of grabbing his gun out of a drawer. As his hand came up to aim at the naga, the snake wrenched it out of his hand and pistol-whipped the striped equine in the forehead with it, making a small red gash amid all the monochrome.
Still doggedly silent, the scaled one dragged Mollaka out of the room in the clutch of his tail, a heavy blow to the head knocking him half senseless.
From there, it was all a blur.
There was so much shooting at the snake, he worried for his own life: if they hit the coiled tail holding the rabbit, the bullets could pierce him as well.
Before he knew it, they were in the back courtyard of the embassy.
Finally, the madness ceased.
Nearly ten guards were there, and so was the director. The zebra had recovered from the knock to the head and had now ordered the recently rampaging reptile to release the rabbit. It seemed only when stared down by the business end of eight automatic rifles, would the constrictor concede defeat.
Mollaka sighed in relief as the snake's tail loosened from him.
He would get out of this. He would be okay. He would go to America in two days, he would complete his mission.
All that money would be his.
He did not consider that perhaps this was a time to change his life, to divert away from the path that held Mr White and his ilk.
The snake's tail shifted, loosening more, beginning to unfurl, and Mollaka tried to get his footing again, as his weight was moved. It felt as if he was being stood back on his paws again.
But then, he was being hurled by the snaketail.
He was falling through the air, his limbs flailing. He could see the series of large blue acetylene tanks he was tumbling toward, as the guards shouted and dove out of his way.
There was a single shot, a burst of sparks on the head of one of the tanks. There was a blast of hissing gas followed immediately by a rush of light and heat, within which the rabbit was engulfed, utterly.
And nothing further.
~
Mollaka the bomb-maker was no more, his father's teachings both lost and lost upon him.
~~~~~~~~~
Amethystine/Ames Sond 00S and related IP © to his owner.
James Bond 007 and related IP © to Ian Fleming, Albert R Broccoli's EON Productions and MGM.
.
Category Artwork (Digital) / General Furry Art
Species Snake / Serpent
Size 700 x 394px
File Size 9.97 MB
Listed in Folders
Hey, thanks! I'm a completionist, so collecting all the Bond posters as Sond re-creations seemed like a cool idea. LARGE, but still finite, and with only new ones appearing slowly, with plenty of warning.
Of course, it started with posters, but there's the possibility of so many 'screenshots' or what-have-you, or getting art of all the major characters in all the films, in anthro form. @__@
Anyway, it remains fun for me. I feel like I'm nearing the goal of all posters. There are 25 films counting NTTD, and there's 'only' 9 left that I don't have.
Of course, it started with posters, but there's the possibility of so many 'screenshots' or what-have-you, or getting art of all the major characters in all the films, in anthro form. @__@
Anyway, it remains fun for me. I feel like I'm nearing the goal of all posters. There are 25 films counting NTTD, and there's 'only' 9 left that I don't have.
I'll pass that along to the animator, although this project is complete, not in progress. Still, perhaps Alfas will keep that in mind for future projects.
Although, it could be he knew he was cutting corners, because I didn't pay him for the MOST polished animation, when it came time to decide how to allocate his time. For instance, I believe, within my budget, I could have paid for more smooth animation, but without any colour in the scene.
Anyway, glad you like it. Of course, I'm just the writer, so any comments about the story under the animation are welcome.
Although, it could be he knew he was cutting corners, because I didn't pay him for the MOST polished animation, when it came time to decide how to allocate his time. For instance, I believe, within my budget, I could have paid for more smooth animation, but without any colour in the scene.
Anyway, glad you like it. Of course, I'm just the writer, so any comments about the story under the animation are welcome.
Sébastien Foucan, one of the founders of parkour, indeed! :}===<
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%.....bastien_Foucan
Also, thanks for the fave!
And, yeah, it's a super memorable scene, that's why I wanted to have a little Sondian slice of it, like this.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%.....bastien_Foucan
Also, thanks for the fave!
And, yeah, it's a super memorable scene, that's why I wanted to have a little Sondian slice of it, like this.
I've thought about the constant tug-o-war of attention between the art I post and the stories I write to accompany them for ten years or more. >__>
The animation is awesome, of course, yes! :}
I trust you're not someone who was steered away from the story, though? Any thoughts on using the rabbit's perspective on this one?
The animation is awesome, of course, yes! :}
I trust you're not someone who was steered away from the story, though? Any thoughts on using the rabbit's perspective on this one?
Yeah, that's why that snippet is supposedly from the _novelization_ of the film, by Amend Penson (that's a Raymond Benson shoutout, he did a bunch of more modern Bond novels). In the novelization of the movie, they go into more detail and get to see inside some other characters' heads, not just Sond's. >___>
Novelizations of the movies had completely skipped my mind! This was a great piece of writing. I love seeing the introspective of even more minor characters, especially interesting ones like this. In the movie, he was just a cool parkour bomb-toter, and it was an interesting build up of the character you've done.
I'm just curious to know if you'd read any of the novelizations from the movies. It's not something I'd personally be looking into myself, but seeing as you're a super big Bond fan, I'm curious of your perspective and opinion on that literature.
This animation was amazing! It'd be awesome to see more Sond action scenes done up. :D
I'm just curious to know if you'd read any of the novelizations from the movies. It's not something I'd personally be looking into myself, but seeing as you're a super big Bond fan, I'm curious of your perspective and opinion on that literature.
This animation was amazing! It'd be awesome to see more Sond action scenes done up. :D
I don't think there IS a novelization of this movie, but maybe there could be. I mean, there's already the original novel, but the 2006 movie is so different, a novelization of it would make sense. Maybe it would be a 'junior' novelization, with a bit less of the mature content? [I just checked, it doesn't seem like there's any such thing, not of CR anyway. And even the novelizations that exist, they're not 'junior' at all.]
I think they know that Bond isn't really for kids, and if someone wants a book of CR, they can read the original. But, apparently, in the Sondverse, there was a modern re-novelization of the modern film's events. And that's what this excerpt is from! [Clearly. Maybe I'm just babbling.]
I haven't read any novelizations of the Bond movies, I don't know if there are any such things for like a 'Tomorrow Never Dies' novelization or whatever. [Okay I checked, it looks like a handful of the movies, mostly the Brosnan ones were novelized! - There hasn't been any of these since Die Another Day. So we can't read about anything deeper going on in or around any of the Craig movies. But I guess the Sondverse kept the novelizations going, alongside the newer movies. :}]
What I _have_ read are some of the modern-written Bond novels by like Sebastian Faulks or William Boyd or Anthony Horowitz. I have a vague interest in reading what Raymond Benson would have been doing with the Bond books in the 90s, too. [Benson did 3 the novelizations I just looked up, as well, since he was the official Bond-book-author at the time.]
In case you didn't know (but you probably do): Ever since Fleming died, other writers have been authorized to write in the series / use the character, and sometimes some of their ideas end up in the later movies, I think. But it's a vague inspiration, the filmmakers try to keep their stuff separate from the books, as far as I know. Sometimes these other writers try to write in Fleming's style, but usually they keep their own voice, I believe.
My actual opinion on the novelizations is that I haven't had the interest before, but now that I've been doing these written Sond scenes, I'd be more interested. I mean, what I'm doing with Sond scenes is kinda {maybe exactly >__>} like a novelization.. and with this piece above, even more so. It would be cool to see a sort of semi-official expanded canon around the events of the films. Maybe it would inspire me for Sond things.
~
Oh, I'm already in Alfas' queue again, don't you worry. I'm thinking I'll get something from Sssskyfall, this time. In general, I want to have animation done of moments where a single still image doesn't capture the feeling. I suppose a comic could have maybe captured the feeling of the scene above, but animation is more.. cinematic? More impressive? More lively? :}===<
I think they know that Bond isn't really for kids, and if someone wants a book of CR, they can read the original. But, apparently, in the Sondverse, there was a modern re-novelization of the modern film's events. And that's what this excerpt is from! [Clearly. Maybe I'm just babbling.]
I haven't read any novelizations of the Bond movies, I don't know if there are any such things for like a 'Tomorrow Never Dies' novelization or whatever. [Okay I checked, it looks like a handful of the movies, mostly the Brosnan ones were novelized! - There hasn't been any of these since Die Another Day. So we can't read about anything deeper going on in or around any of the Craig movies. But I guess the Sondverse kept the novelizations going, alongside the newer movies. :}]
What I _have_ read are some of the modern-written Bond novels by like Sebastian Faulks or William Boyd or Anthony Horowitz. I have a vague interest in reading what Raymond Benson would have been doing with the Bond books in the 90s, too. [Benson did 3 the novelizations I just looked up, as well, since he was the official Bond-book-author at the time.]
In case you didn't know (but you probably do): Ever since Fleming died, other writers have been authorized to write in the series / use the character, and sometimes some of their ideas end up in the later movies, I think. But it's a vague inspiration, the filmmakers try to keep their stuff separate from the books, as far as I know. Sometimes these other writers try to write in Fleming's style, but usually they keep their own voice, I believe.
My actual opinion on the novelizations is that I haven't had the interest before, but now that I've been doing these written Sond scenes, I'd be more interested. I mean, what I'm doing with Sond scenes is kinda {maybe exactly >__>} like a novelization.. and with this piece above, even more so. It would be cool to see a sort of semi-official expanded canon around the events of the films. Maybe it would inspire me for Sond things.
~
Oh, I'm already in Alfas' queue again, don't you worry. I'm thinking I'll get something from Sssskyfall, this time. In general, I want to have animation done of moments where a single still image doesn't capture the feeling. I suppose a comic could have maybe captured the feeling of the scene above, but animation is more.. cinematic? More impressive? More lively? :}===<
Thanks, and thank you for the fave on this, as well!
I'm glad to hear you like the film from 2006, but when you say the book.. have you actually read the original Ian Fleming Bond novel, from 1953? O: [I don't ever meet people who have]
You weren't talking about my story-post that's included in my post here, were you?
I'm glad to hear you like the film from 2006, but when you say the book.. have you actually read the original Ian Fleming Bond novel, from 1953? O: [I don't ever meet people who have]
You weren't talking about my story-post that's included in my post here, were you?
https://thelittlemanreviews.wordpre.....-fleming-1953/
The 1953 version yup! I read that book twice ^_^
THAT is a great example of a PRIME novel, how something should be written. Loved it so much~
You are welcome.
The 1953 version yup! I read that book twice ^_^
THAT is a great example of a PRIME novel, how something should be written. Loved it so much~
You are welcome.
Comments