This is what happens when I'm bored and don't feel like writing with my own characters. This is for the most part Bond vs. 1984.
Keep is mind this has had little editing.
Bond woke up with his head pounding from the previous nights engagements. It’s that damn soma. He thought to himself. Never again, I’ll stick with the victory gin.
He rolled over and found a surprise, the pretty young new council member, Miss Peel, was slumbering by his side. After the shock passed Bond ignored her and tended to him drink stand.
He poured three measures victory gin into into an oversized glass. After making sure that Peel was still out his reached under his dresser, pulled back the navy blue carpet and brought out an ancient bottle of pure Russian vodka he had procured back is the sixties. He poured two measures into his cup and replaced the rest of the illegal goods under the carpet.
He tore open the government-given daily pack. First item in today’s pack was a reefer. Bond immediately dropped this in the trash can and moved on. Next in the sack was a crudely drawn porn booklet produced by the whores at the Ministry of Truth. The booklet joined the reefer in the bucket.
Bond examined the piece of paper in the bottom of the packet. It was a “personal note from you true and just leader.” The note was printed on paper bearing the cruel handlebar mustached face of Big Brother. Bond considered burning it, but then thought it would ignite the maharani. The note drifted down and rested atop the growing pile in the waste bin.
He raised the goblet to his mouth and began to fill the liquors warm him up. Poor Vesper.
He felt the acute twang one feels when a gun is pointed at their back. Miss Peel was siting up in bed half covered by the sheets; in her hand was a small caliber pistol of German make.
“My dear Mr. Bond, I do believe you are guilty of thought crime. My heavens, you took part of none of our leaders gifts. Tut-tut. And, then Gaul of all Gauls. You don’t offer BB’s Representative any thing to drink. Come Come.”
This would be later on in the story.
He passed young Winston Smith in the hallway. Bond had known Winston’s father well. That worthy man had been killed in the second battle of Briton. He killed twenty invaders before they got him. Although now whenever Smith was mentioned, and that was not often, he was portrayed as a foolish coward who killed his doctor friend then turned the gun on himself so he would not have to face the “liberators” Poor Nayland Smith.
I'm curious to know what people think. Although not the plot so much as the writing itself.