[ EU ] Not every 00-agent gets to lead a life of beautiful cars and fast women . Tell the story of an agent assigned one of the unglamorous 00 numbers .

003.1 stared blankly at the faded Bourne: Identity poster crumpled into the log walls of his nondescript Norwegian cabin. A towering mound of paperwork glared sullenly at him from its perch on his desk. He'd tried his damnedest to get into the 00 program; twelve times, to be precise. The way 003.1's handler had described his first field assignment, one would have thought he was going to be plunged into a deadly spectacle of explosive snowmobile chases and ice-pick melees set to an idyllic mountainous backdrop. You could even throw in a couple of hot blondes with obvious daddy issues and the story would STILL be believable. 
 
 The one thing his handler was n't lying about was his predecessor's fantastical demise. 003 had been killed when he fell off a sheer cliff face while skiing and exchanging fire with a phalanx of masked henchmen toting the latest H & K automatic weapons ( *always H & K*, 003.1 thought. *Someone should really start monitoring their exports* ). His handler carefully omitted the fact that the'henchmen' had in fact been Norwegian Armed Police, and that 003 had been very, very inebriated. 
 
 There was one more detail which seemed to have been forgotten during the briefing - a note nailed to the door of the cabin. There was no doubt it had been written by 003. 
 
 `` GONE OUT TO EXERCISE MY LICENCE TO KILL. MAY BE SOME TIME.'' 
 
 And 007 always buggered on about how *his* missions were enough to turn a man insane.
