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As before, this is not meant to be taken as either a criticism or a pitch. As before, this was born on TWITTER and is just being reset here with some pictures. My good friend Paul Guyot says I'm an idiot for not pitching this but, frankly, the writer is too weak in movie world for me to waste time on films that I'm not guaranteed to be on for the duration. Which means mostly none of them. Anyway. I love Moneypenny-as-sniper and I've nursed a PURELY ARTISTIC crush on Naomie Harris since 28 Days Later. So. Here we are. Fanfic? Sure. Why not?



It's Carnival. The biggest, the hottest, the most exciting Mardi Gras on the planet. Shining skin and a rainbow of feathers and jewels adorn dancers and onlookers alike. The crowd is monstrous, thick, screaming with unbridled pleasure as the festival parade moves through the city.

MONNEYPENNY begins to speak. Her voice is low and intimate, as though she’s sharing secrets.


Let me tell you about spies, shall I? It's a hard job but not SO complicated. ZOOM TO a section of the crowd. Everyone here is cheering or dancing or both. Grins and beauty abound. Only one person, the MAN IN WHITE (30s, Caucasian, rough) seems slightly out of place. He’s not dancing or smiling, that’s for sure– and he’s in that white suit– but if you weren’t looking for him, you’d miss him. He’s a ghost among the living.


You take a mission–find a thing, steal a thing, find a person, kill a person– you go somewhere, you blend in, you become invisible. Either you complete and vanish home or you don’t and you’re dead. The MAN IN WHITE moves into the crowd and, true to Moneypenny’s words, seems to vanish from sight.


Spies move in circles. No. Wait. Spies move in ellipses. They have to. Over the scene, a geometric curve– the ellipse– extends from where the Man in White was to another part of the crowd where we see the WOMAN IN BLACK (30s, Bronze-Brazilian, sleek).

She is also out of place, also a statue amongst all that motion.

Another ellipse appears, causing a ZIP TO a nearby café ba