James Bond In WW2(MCU x DC Comics)

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Chapter 1: The Training Camp.

-France, 1943-

-British Training Camp-

The rain was relentless, turning the dirt field into a quagmire that clung to my boots with every step.

My shoulders ached under the weight of my pack, but I pushed forward, one foot in front of the other.

The air was sharp with the scent of wet earth, and the barked commands of Sergeant Mallory cut through the damp night like a whip.

"Move it, lads! You think the enemy's gonna wait while you drag your sorry hides across the mud?" His voice dripped with scorn. "Bond! That all you've got?"

I didn't look at him. If I did, he'd see the fire burning in my eyes.

"You wish, Sergeant!" I shouted back, a grin splitting my rain-slicked face.

My legs screamed in protest, but I ignored the pain. Pain was a constant companion now, one I had learned to live with.

The other recruits—all older, bigger, and, frankly, meaner—threw me sidelong glances.

They'd been doing that for weeks.

I was faster than most, sharper than nearly all, but I knew what they were thinking. What's the deal with this kid?

The truth? I didn't belong here. Not by age, not by rank. But war didn't care about either, and neither did I.

---

-Two Months Earlier-

I remember the weight of the forged papers in my hand as I stood outside that drab office in London.

The year was 1943, and the world was burning.

The Germans marched across Europe, the Japanese carved up the Pacific, and everywhere I looked, men were stepping forward to fight.

I couldn't sit back and watch.

The bureaucrat inside barely looked up as I handed him the documents that declared me "James T. Bond, age 18." I was barely 14, but I stood tall, squared my shoulders, and flashed the kind of smile that had gotten me out of trouble more times than I could count.

"Big family, you see," I said when his eyes lingered a moment too long on the smudged birth certificate. "Mum always said I was ahead of my years. Can't very well wait around when there's a war to win, can I?"

He sighed, stamping the papers with a perfunctory thud. "Next!"

And just like that, I was in. A name, a number, and a lie. But it was enough.

(Flashback end)

---

"Bond, rear detail. Again."

I bit back my frustration as Corporal Grant doled out assignments for the night's exercise.

The rain hadn't let up, and the woods we crouched in were a sodden mess. I tightened my grip on my rifle, willing myself to stay calm.

"Permission to suggest something, sir?"

Grant turned to me, his scowl lit dimly by the lantern we'd covered to avoid detection. "Make it quick, Bond."

I gestured to the crumbling north wall of the abandoned building ahead. "The breach team'll be sitting ducks going through the front. That wall's partially collapsed—less guarded, easier entry. If Foster and I take point, we can split their defenses."

His eyebrows rose, and for a second, I thought he might actually listen. Then the scowl returned. "You volunteering for the risky job, Bond?"

"I'm offering a solution," I shot back, holding his gaze. "Unless you've got a better one?"

The squad fell silent. Grant's glare lingered before he finally gave a grudging nod. "Fine. But if you cock it up, it's your neck."

---

Foster and I crept through the rain-soaked grass, the building looming ahead like a shadowy tomb.

Every step felt impossibly loud, every crack of a twig setting my heart racing.

I glanced at Foster, who was muttering under his breath about me getting him killed and us facing Mallory's glare.

"You cover me from here," I whispered, pointing to the gap in the debris. "I'll flush them your way."

Foster shook his head. "You're mad, you know that?"

"Mad's just another word for determined."

I slipped forward, the world narrowing to the task at hand. The first 'German' guard rounded the corner, his lantern casting long shadows.

I didn't hesitate. The butt of my rifle connected with his temple, and he crumpled without a sound.

Shouts erupted inside. Foster's rifle cracked twice, and chaos unfolded.

I darted through the gap, disarming one guard with a quick feint before dropping him with a blow to the jaw. While I lacked the power, I'd made sure to train my precision to target critical points.

Adrenaline was coursing through me, sharpening my movements, my focus. I felt unstoppable.

"Go!" I shouted to the squad as they moved in from the front. "Hostage's clear!"

Needless to say, the mission was a success.

---

-Back at Camp-

Hours later, the adrenaline had worn off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.

I stood in the barracks, staring at my reflection in a cracked mirror as I shaved.

The harsh yellow light illuminated every line of my face, every shadow under my eyes. I looked older than my 14 years, but not by much.

The razor scraped against my skin, revealing a smooth jawline beneath the growing stubble.

My dark hair was still damp from the rain, slicked back from my forehead.

My blue-grey eyes—sharp, watchful—stared back at me, filled with something I couldn't quite name. Resolve, perhaps. Or defiance.

Mallory's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Bold move tonight, Bond. Not bad for rear detail."

I set the razor down and whirled around to full attention, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "Just doing my part, sir."

"At ease."

His eyes narrowed, a hint of suspicion flickering there. "Funny thing, though. Your file says you're eighteen. But you fight like a scrappy kid who's been in one too many street brawls."

My stomach clenched, but I didn't blink. "Discipline comes in different forms, sir."

For a moment, I thought he'd press further, but instead, his lips twitched into something almost like a smile. "Keep it up, Bond. But know this: I'm watching you."

As he walked away, Foster appeared at my side, clapping me on the shoulder. "You're mad, Bond. But bloody brilliant."

I allowed myself a small grin, the razor cool in my hand. "Mad's just another word for determined."

I turned back to the mirror, staring at the face of the boy I'd been and the man I was trying to become. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but I welcomed it.

Tonight, I hadnt just survived- I'd bloody well thrived.