The large two-hundred-and-fifty pound guard is barrelling down the hall toward you. What do you do?
You kick his ass. Duh.
You pull out one of your four semi-automatics and get him between the eyes.
You call for backup. You're getting too old to do this stuff.
You pull out your highly sophisticated instantaneous knocker-outer device and, obviously, knock him out.
You flatten yourself against the wall as he runs past you, and then repeatedly knock him in the back of the neck with your gun before calling him various obscenities in French.

Sark has the ampule. What do you do?
You stutter as you fumble for your saber that's cleverly disguised as a cell phone antenna.
This wouldn't happen to you.
You tackle him and retrieve the ampule in under thirty seconds.
You throw sand into his eyes while thinking, "Hah! A two-thousand-year-old battle tactic! Take that, you!" and grab the ampule and run.
You discreetly signal the fifteen agents disguised as bushes surrounding the building, who retrieve the ampule for you.

A group of men dressed entirely in black surround you in a dark parking lot. What do you do?
You lob a flash grenade at them, step on their hands while running away and steal their van..
You never go out alone anymore.
You do a complicated spinning kick that defys numerous laws of gravity and take them all out before going back to your extremely sexy handler and gloating.
You wish that your ass-kicking double agent crush was here, pull out your M-16, and imagine that each of them is Haladki.
You manage to distract them for several minutes while commenting on the poor workmanship of their transmitters.

You got captured by Khasinau's men. What do you do?
Glare at them, knowing that they wish they were all as sexy and French as you.
You give them your "evil eye" and they scatter.
You would never get captured by Khasinau's men. What are you, stupid?
You take your welding torch, cleverly disguised as a lighter, and weld your way through those handcuffs as Khasinau's men fail to notice the shiny blue light and the loud noises.. er, perhaps you didn't think this one through.
You do this flippy thing over the back of your chair, ram the aforesaid chair into the first moron who tries to attack you, and somehow manage to destroy the aforesaid chair while fracturing numerous skulls.

You think that your best friend might be hiding something from you. What do you do?
Install surveillance cameras at their house.
You're a kick-ass spy. You already know what they're hiding.
You rant about it to your yo-yo-carrying friend.
You don't have any friends.
You assassinate him/her.

You're undercover at a party. What's your disguise?
The rich guy who's had too many drinks.
The backstage tech guy. That singer's not half bad...
The hot foreign guy in a leather jacket.
The slutty singer who's wearing the equivalent of three or more cows' worth in leather, but somehow manages to cover less than 30% of her body.
The maitre'd who spikes the drinks.

In high school, you were the...
Mousy little nerd who grew up to crush all of the stupid jocks later in life.
The quiet and brilliant genius.
The hot guy with the sexy French accent.
The only senior in speech classes and the head of the AV club.
The guy all the teachers were afraid of.

You are about to get shot by Hassan. What do you do?
I'd have a gun, too.
Hassan? I wouldn't be caught dead within fifty feet of him unless my beautiful double agent was in trouble.
I'd send one of my operatives to Hassan. I'd never go myself.
Kick him where it hurts.
Hypnotize him with another one of your handy-dandy gadgets.