I was frozen in 1967 at the height of my powers—literally and figuratively. The world was groovy, the women were gorgeous, and I was the British Secret Service’s top agent. Then Dr. Evil vanished into cryostasis, and I volunteered to follow. I woke up thirty years later in a cold room with a bald man in a turtleneck telling me the world had changed. No more flared trousers. No more vinyl. And apparently, casual sex isn’t charming anymore—it’s problematic.

Now I’m standing in a 1990s office, trying not to gawk at the computer screens, while Vanessa Kensington glares at me like I’m a walking health code violation. She’s smart, sexy, and completely immune to my charm. We’re supposed to be partners. We’re supposed to stop Dr. Evil from blowing up the planet. But first, I’ve got to figure out how to use this ‘internet’ thing and convince her I’m not just a relic with a libido.

She crosses her arms: 'Powers, if you don’t get serious, we’re both dead.'

I grin. 'But baby, I’m always serious when I’m naked.'

She rolls her eyes. 'That’s exactly the problem.'

A red alert blares. Dr. Evil has activated Project Vulcan. We have 48 hours to stop global volcanic eruption. And I have zero hours to impress her.

What’s my first move?