She kept her head down as she walked. She had remembered hearing somewhere that on your (possible) first day on in a new job, you should look confidant, however, she surmised, the last thing she wanted to do was stand out.

"That certainly worked out well, didn't it?"

She hadn't MEANT to attract attention from a government agency, of course. Especially NOT from MI6. But she had. And this was the result.

The 23 year old felt rather intimidated by her environment. Men in expensive looking suits and practically strangled by their chosen ties bustled about the lobby. Women stood tall in their impractical high heels and squeezed into the tightest pencil skirts they could find.

Nobody told her there was a dress code! She wore black trousers with totally flat ankle boots (she hated heels) a white shirt, dark jacket and a bright blue scarf. Unlike the majority of women, she didn't carry a handbag. Who in their right mind would if they only used the thief infested Tube to travel around London? She walked quickly towards the reception desk, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose with two fingers as she walked.

The building towered over the city of London. The glass windows shining so brightly, you'd almost need sunglasses to look directly at it. Three months ago, this building had been totally destroyed, she had even seen it on the news herself. It was said that this new MI6 headquarters was now bigger and better than ever.

"Thanks to British taxpayers" she thought grimely.

At least she wasn't one of them. Yet. She didn't know how or why, but somehow MI6 had found her and she was willing to bet that if the Irish government found out, they wouldn't be too pleased.

She cleared her throat to gain the attention of the blond (and very orange) woman behind the reception desk. The thirty- something receptionist barely just glanced at her for a moment before comparing the girls face to an image on her computer screen. "Thank you for coming, Miss. If you'll follow me, I shall take you to M"

The receptionist rose from her seat behind her desk and looked at the girl. She turned slightly pink (Surprising, considering that luminous shade of orange) and the girl jumped as she heard a deep voice from behind her. "No need, Brianna. I shall escort the lady upstairs."

The man in his early forties who spoke loomed over her (not really a difficult thing to achieve, given the girls 5ft 2 inch stature) and unsurprisingly like the rest of the men she had seen so far today, he wore a suit and tie. His piercing blue eyes contrasted his blonde hair. The girl had to admit he was quite handsome, so she felt the giddy receptionist's answer was quite justified. "Ok!" giggled Brianna before sitting back down and gazing longingly after the man, who the girl now noticed was beckoning her towards the elevator.

She walked quickly after him and slid into the elevator as he held the door for her. As the doors slid shut with a 'ping!', she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirrored lift. Her plaited brown hair was hidden under her blue hat, and her skin was still red from the icy February weather she encountered on her way here this morning. Her chunky black rimmed glasses were tilted slightly to one side, so she pushed them up the bridge of her nose gently with two fingers to correct them.

"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The blonde haired man had addressed her. She felt slightly uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. It was almost as if he could see straight through her. "Um... I've been asked to come in. About a job?" she stuttered.

The man smiled and looked up at the counter indicating the buildings floor numbers. "Ah. We have been putting it off for a while. It's probably about time we filled that position, Miss...?"

She realized that he was looking for her name. She almost told him, until she remembered the instructions she had been given not so long ago. "Uh... I've been told I can't tell people my name"

The man almost looked nostalgic as he replied, "You have indeed met M before...". His thoughts were interrupted as the lift opened abruptly. He stepped out, and so the girl followed him. Judging by the amount of time spent in the lift she estimated that they were now somewhere near the top floor of the building and she now stood in a bare white office. Sitting at a lone desk to one side of the office sat a woman. Her eyes lit up as she saw the man enter the room but her expression hardened when she caught sight of his companion.

"Thank you for coming, Miss. We have been expecting you. You may go straight through to see M"

She rose from behind her desk to open the door beside her and beckoned the girl to enter the adjoining room. The girl kept her head down as she walked briskly across the room, but she suddenly stopped just on the threshold of the doorway.

"Um... that's not M" she stuttered. The unfamiliar man behind the desk rose to greet her. "Unfortunately, the woman you know as my predecessor has been killed. Such is the risk in our line of work, I'm afraid" By now, his secretary had closed the door behind her. "No going back, now" she thought.

She noted his use of the word "our". She realised, that this really was finally happening now, she was entering the dangerous world of espionage. Actually, now that she thought about it, she had entered this world as soon as she met the woman she knew as "M" in that bookshop on O'Connell's Street nearly a year ago. This was a part of her now.

The man continued. "I am the new M now."

"My apologies, sir. I had no idea-"

"That's quite alright. Now, please sit." He motioned to one of the comfy looking chairs in front of his antique desk. She sat down slowly, cautiously.

"Pick a number between one and ten."

"Excuse me?"

He looked at her expectantly. He wasn't joking. She thought for a moment, and a number came into her mind. Her lucky number.

"Um, nine?"

He typed something into his computer. "Alright then, should you choose to accept a place here with us, your new name shall be Nine. You shall be known to everyone in this building by that name, only. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir"

He paused for a moment, "You do know how you came to be here?"

She thought about the question before answering, "Well, my father is English and I was born in London, so although I am an Irish citizen and I have lived there for the majority of my life I am still technically British. Therefore I am eligible to work for MI6. M- uh, the other M didn't tell me how you found me or why you wanted me to work for you."

M sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Hmm, well, every year MI6 review the list of college graduates who specialize in the field of computers. If we see someone we like, we offer them a position here upon the completion of the candidates chosen degree. Unfortunately, for the past two years, nobody has stood out. However, you came to our attention five years ago..."

Five years ago? She had been 18 at the time, what could she have possibly... the answer came to her then, "...When I officially became an Irish citizen?" she asked cautiously. She carried a British passport, and thought that maybe it would be easier for her to procure a job in Ireland if she became an Irish citizen. She had always felt practically Irish. She had only spent the first three years of her life in England, but she couldn't remember any of it. Her parents moved to the small Irish speaking part of Ireland that her mother came from when she started school. As a result, she picked up both English and Irish as languages so she could communicate with her family, rural community and the people in her life who could only speak English.

He nodded, "Indeed. So we took a look at your CAO form and found out about your interest in a career in computers. Your exceptionally high Leaving Certificate results caught our attention as well. We followed your progress as you studied in DIT and tested your abilities-"

"I'm sorry, you tested me?" She hated interrupting, but M didn't seem to mind.

"Well, we had to scout you before considering you for a position here at MI6. We have contacts in DIT. One of whom was one of your lecturers. Why do you think you were the only student who acquired extra credit assignments?"

It was all starting to make sense to her now: Her high grades, odd assignments, special attention and encouragement from various lecturers- it was clear MI6 had been watching her for a while now.

"Now," said M, "Lets get down to business: the reason why you are here..."

Nine, leaned forward in her seat, her curiosity intrigued.

Outside M's office, James Bond was engaged in his usual bout of playful banter with Moneypenny when M and the new girl emerged from behind the double doors.

"I was starting to think that my precedent truly had gone crazy when I found she had scouted you." M was saying, the girl easily keeping up with him. "Now I realize, I was insane not to trust her judgement. Welcome to MI6, Nine."

Moneypenny smiled and went to shake the girl's hand, "So, it's official then? You're one of us?"

The girl nodded. "I guess so. Nice to meet you, Miss. I'm Nine."

"So, they've finally moved on from the letters and switched to numbers? It was inevitable! I'm Eve Moneypenny, but please call me Eve. If you need help settling in or anything, come and find me."

"Much appreciated, Eve."

The man who had escorted her went to shake her hand, "Bond" he grinned, "James Bond." M cleared his throat, "Now, if you would follow me, Nine I will show you the Q division where you will be working." He led her back to the lift and raised an inquisitive eyebrow when Bond stepped in after him. "I have business to discuss with our dearest Quartermaster" said Bond, smirking. Nine's stomach lurched as the lift plummeted back down to where she had just come from.

The Quartermaster, Q. Nine had been told that he was her boss, and was quite startled to find that she was now his new second in command, which she found quite daunting. She tuned out of the conversation between M and Bond, taking refuge in her thoughts. As she was led further into the building, Nine analysed her surroundings, making note of where she was being led. Somewhere below ground, she guessed. After passing through a large laboratory she followed M through an automatic sliding glass door into what looked like a firing range.

The floor and walls were grey concrete and three men in stark white labcoats were standing next to computers behind a tall nerdy looking young fellow in a cardigan. An older moustachioed man held a clipboard, "Test number one one four, micro silencer 2.0, Mark II, in three... two... one..."

The young man in front of them fired a gun, much to Nine's shock. She wasn't used to being around firearms. A loud noise, somewhere between a sharp "bang" and a rather pathetic "poof" filled the room. A cloud of thick black smoke appeared and the recoil from the handgun threw the man back into a table behind him. Coughing, the man managed to catch himself.

"Write that down!" He wheezed, before breaking into another fit of coughing, "Bloody thing. Note that gunpowder not to be used as a suppressant due to increased recoil effect" The other men hastily scribbled and typed the results of the experiment. "I suppose the old ways aren't always the best ways..." muttered the man.

"It was still worth a shot, eh?" Chuckled one of the scientists, a bald man with glasses and a goatee. His colleagues moaned at the horrible joke.

Beside Nine, Bond started clapping slowly, mockingly "I must admit that was as entertaining as hell! Still no luck?" He handed the man the handkerchief that was sticking out of his jacket pocket.

"Take a wild guess, 007" he croaked, trying to wipe the gunpowder residue from glasses. M cleared his throat and so the man slid his glasses back on and attempted to rid himself of the rest of the residue, "Morning, M."

"Q, let me introduce your new second in command, Nine"

"This is Q?" She thought, bewildered. "He couldn't be more than a year or two older than me!". Now that Q was mostly cleaned up, Nine studied him. He was around the same height as Bond, maybe an inch or two shorter. He wore trousers, a green- yellow cardigan over a white shirt and black tie. His messy black hair and thick glasses completed the look. Q's gaze fell to the girl before flickering back to his boss, "M, We don't need-"

"Things change, Quartermaster. MI6 needs all the help it can get."

Q set the gun on the desk, sighing in defeat. He obviously wasn't bothered to pursue an argument he could not win. He looked at Nine again, "...hacker?" he asked. Q couldn't hear her muttered reply.

"Pardon?"

Nine spoke up "Um, programmer. I can hack a little, but I'm more adept at programming" she said meekly. Q shrugged, "Good. My programming skills, unfortunately, are a little more inadequate than I would like to admit." He walked back into the laboratory they came through. "One of your desks is over there." He pointed to a clean desk amongst a group of others with papers and folders piled neatly on top of them. "I suggest you set up the computer now, then we'll show you our main office."

Nine nodded and began to boot up the computer. Q wandered over to the desk beside hers, typing something onto another computer before turning to Bond and M. "So, what can I do for you, 007?"

"I am here to return your latest equipment," he said, placing items Nine couldn't see before Q. "Bond, when I said return my equipment, I MEANT IN ONE PIECE!" said the mortified Quartermaster, holding up an iPhone with what looked like a bullet hole going clean through the centre of the glass screen. Bond shrugged, "I was due for an upgrade anyway." Q looked to his boss for help, but M was too busy smirking at his dilemma. Nine didn't think it was funny, she knew how difficult and expensive programming such technology could be. She felt a bit sad at the sight of the maimed smartphone.

Her desktop bleeped softly, indicating that the basic setup had finished. Nine then went for the USB key she wore on a chain around her neck. When she wrote her Masters thesis, she submitted this key to outline her points on the mechanics of quantum encryption, and later she built up the code she had already written and had planned to sell on the technology once she finished the program. This program was the reason she was sitting here now. A hand grabbed her wrist before she could insert the key into one of the ports, and she found herself looking up at Q.

"Standard protocol, Nine. No foreign USB keys-" he began, but was interrupted by M, "She can use any USB she likes, Q. It is important that the project I have asked Nine to undertake be completed as quickly and discreetly as possible. Only when it is fully completed will you be given knowledge of the assignment."

Q seemed taken aback by this. Information was being kept from him, in his own department! He didn't seem happy in the slightest, but he still grudgingly gave Nine permission with a nod of his head. "Now that that's finished," said M, "Nine, have you any experience with firearms?"

Nine's eyes widened in surprise "No, sir" she said softly, nervously glancing at the handgun on Q's desk, "I've never so much as seen a gun until today." This was of course, true. She came from a country with hardly any weapons in sight, not even the national police force carried arms! Every second she spent in this office, the more incompetent she felt.

M shook his head, "Well, you'd better learn the basics. You will be developing gadgets as well as hacking computers!" Out of the corner of her eye, Nine saw Bond and Q grimace at them. "They're probably dreading working with someone so inexperienced... knowing my luck, I'll be a hindrance more than a help!"

"I asked 002 to be your instructor, but unfortunately he is a little tied up in Columbia at the moment." Nine was around fifty five percent sure that M meant that to be a joke. But paired with the solemn look on the faces of the other two men, the figure dropped significantly. "Instead, 007 shall be taking his place"

Nine's heart sank faster than a stone. Learning ways to hurt people from this smug looking man wasn't very high on her list of exiting things to do. She was slightly confused by Bond's reaction. Judging by the look of surprise on his face, this was news to him. M was already at the exit when he turned around, "Oh yes, 007? I need you to teach Nine about the firearms we use here at MI6. Preferably before you leave for Paris."

"That makes more sense" Nine thought, deflated.