In every action story, there is a man whose death means nothing.

He exists to be hunted, shot, and erased. He has no previous life, no last word, no claim to the audience's grief. He is there so that the hero may shine.

You already know Him. You have watched Him fall from rooftops, crash through windows, and bleed into the margins of other people's adventures.

But this time, He refuses to remain silent. This time, He speaks. And what He reveals is not innocence, nor virtue, nor redemption, but something far more unsettling: humanity.

Set against a world that worships violent action "heroes", And That's How James Bond Killed Me turns its gaze toward the forgotten dead and asks the question most stories are too afraid to ask: what if the disposable man had a soul?