Crawler turned her head to the side then started as she felt a splash of coldness wash across her face, soaking into the bandages that covered it. The coldness would not go away, and Crawler sighed in defeat.
"Salogel?" Crawler called out. Maybe her savior could use his eyes to see what she had just done.
However, no reply came.
"Salogel?" She called out to him again, sitting up slowly. Her ribs didn't hurt that much anymore, and she was able to sit up with the aid of her right hand. Still no answer, just the steady sound of water falling nearby.
"Well, this is good," Crawler spoke aloud to herself. "Left alone, I can't see. Why do I sense that something bad is about to happen to me?"
At that moment, there was a sound of something entering the cave. "Salogel?" she called out, feeling along the wall to help her stand. She turned herself in the direction of the noise.
A low growling came as she moved, a growl more suited for that of a beast than one of a man. Definitely NOT Salogel, Crawler thought as she reached into her pocket for something to scare the beast away. It was at that moment that she realized she was naked.
"Oh sith…"
The beast pounced, and Crawler was knocked to the floor with the large animal on top of her. The heat of its breath on her face warmed the wet sensation of her bandages, making it uncomfortable. She rolled around, pushing the beast up to prevent it from biting her shoulder. Her left hand may not be following her commands, but she used her wrist to push the beast's head back.
The animal howled, and she recognized the distinctive howl of a wolf. Better than an R.O.U.S… then I'd worry if I was still in the right universe.
The thought of one of her favorite movies made Crawler smile under her bandages. She had felt the wall on her right side, so with all her strength she twisted herself to roll along the floor away from the wall, taking the wolf with her.
The wolf yelped in pain soon after and Crawler felt the animal leave her. She instantly raised her right hand to her face and pulled the bandages back so she could see.
It was still blurry, but she could make out a tiny dot of gray fur disappearing into the distance. She was near a small fire, and the air smelt of burnt fur.
She worked to focus her eyes as she took the bandages off her head. Looking around, she realized that she was in some sort of cave. Next to her fire were a pile of food, some clothing, and her rifle.
She looked down at her body, trying to take a note on her wounds. Her ribs were wrapped in a tight white bandage, as was her left knee. There was a faint white line showing where Rouddim had slashed her across her chest.
Instantly her hand went to her face. She traced the paths of the scars there, and all she could feel was a raised line, as if her scars there were also completely healed leaving behind a shadow of the scar.
"Secret herbs," Crawler chuckled in admiration. She slowly stood once more, ignoring her left hand for now. Instead she walked over to the pile of clothing and squatted down beside them.
Her flightsuit was torn to shreds. Rouddim's knife slashed some, and the drag through the forest had probably ruined the rest. However, maybe…
"YES!" Crawler shouted. She reached into her inner hidden pocket and pulled out the items she had stocked in there for safety. Laying the objects out in front of the fire, she took a mental inventory.
Keys to her apartment. A tiny tool kit. A droid controller. Some Euros. The chip from the component. The little package from Wells, to use in case of emergency.
A chill came through the cave, and Crawler held her arms around herself. Get dressed first. Contact Wells afterwards.
She carefully reached over and grabbed the clothing left beside her torn flightsuit. It was a pair of black pants, linen with a drawstring waist, and a white tunic with laces in the front to loosen or tighten the neckline.
Her boots as well as underclothes were nearby as well, folded gently awaiting her to put them on. Nodding to Salogel's choice of clothing, she carefully put the clothing on. Her ribs didn't protest too much to her movements, but she still worked slowly. She might feel healed, but it was still better to act with caution.
Once dressed, Crawler gathered her items lined in front of the fire and put them into little pockets in the pants. Then, after slinging her rifle over her shoulder, she pulled a rather large piece of wood from the fire and followed the sound of falling water to the exit.
She rounded a corner, and light flickered into the cave. At the entrance, a wall of water streamed down non-stop. Crawler tilted her head at it a moment, then smiled. She walked to the wall of water and pressed her body against the cave wall. Moving slowly on the wet steps, she passed the wall of water and was outside.
It was mid afternoon. She didn't know what day it was, but it was already half gone. And judging from the time that Salogel had told her it was when she woke up last, she knew that Rouddim had to be long gone.
Tossing the log into the water, Crawler turned around in a circle, observing her location. She had just come from under a large waterfall. It fed into a stream surrounded by large, snowcapped trees. The grass was wet, whether from the mist of the waterfall or the previous day's storm, she didn't know. The sky was clear now, and the moon was visible in the light blue color, showing that it was going to be a full moon.
Now in the light, Crawler lifted her hand to examine it. The knife had plunged through the center of her left palm, leaving behind a large gash and dried fluid on the outside. Sighing, Crawler took off a leather strap that she wore as a bracelet around her wrist. Once it was gone, she ran her right hand in a smooth downward motion from her wrist to her fingers.
With the synthflesh glove in her right hand, Crawler could see what damage Rouddim's knife had done to her left. She stuck her hand into the waterfall for a second to wash the fluids away, then looked closely at the gears and wires.
"Damage to the central motivator and feed lines…" she spoke to herself, "Sparks probably soldered the lines otherwise there'd be more fluid leakage… I should be able to repair this."
Stuffing her fleshlike glove in a pocket, she fished out another object. It was the wrapped package Wells had given her before she left. She turned it over in her hand a few times, then let her deft fingers tear open the paper. Inside was a watch.
Crawler raised her eyebrow. A watch? How was this supposed to help me in an emergency? Tell me how long I had been beat up?
She then noticed three buttons along the side. Curious, she pressed the first one, then chuckled as the time display turned to a date display.
She pressed the second button, then jumped a bit as the top display popped open. Looking inside, there was a tiny empty space, as if it was to hold something small and important. A thought entered her mind and she reached into her pocket again, pulling out the tiny microchip from the shield component. The space looked just about right… Yes! Crawler smiled to herself as the little chip slid perfectly into place in the open slot. She tapped down the top of the watch again, and felt a tiny vibration as she guessed the compartment locked itself shut.
One button left, so she pressed it. Suddenly, the watch display went blank and a single blinking line replaced it. She looked at the watch curiously, raising her eyebrows. Now what?
John Wells sat in a tiny café, his gaze staring over the rims of his Gucci sunglasses. Across the street in a shop was not his female target, but a young attractive blonde woman, shopping for some very small and tight clothing, mainly bikinis. Sometimes Wells loved his job.
There was a beeping in his pocket, and a few heads turned to look at him. He smiled nonchalantly and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. Checking the caller ID, he gritted his teeth.
That's Crawler's watch ID, he came to realize, and suddenly he remembered that he had lost contact with the agent a few days back. He hadn't been worried, since after all Crawler was a big girl and could definitely take care of herself.
But with the watch making contact, that meant that something had gone wrong. And Wells knew that if something went wrong around Crawler, either someone had died or she was in too deep to handle it herself.
"I'm here. What's wrong?" he spoke into the phone.
Crawler jumped as words flashed along the top display of her watch. I'M HERE. WHAT'S WRONG?
"How the hell?" she muttered, looking over the little watch. At that moment, new words appeared. JUST TALK. THERE IS A MICROPHONE BUILT IN.
"Ok. Rouddim has taken the shield and fled."
ARE YOU WITH HIM?
"No."
WHERE ARE YOU?
Crawler looked to the sky and saw where the sun was, and the position of the moon. "Somewhere in the woods south of where the abandoned factory was."
ARE YOU HURT?
Crawler looked down at her metallic hand and tried to flex it. "Not too bad. Just need a quick patch job and I'll be fine."
GOOD. WANT ME TO FIND YOU A WAY BACK?
Crawler reached into her pocket and pulled out her droid controller. She pressed a series of buttons and watched as it lit up. "Nah, I've got my own ride back. I should be there sometime tonight."
OKAY. MEET ME AT TWENTY TWO HUNDRED HOURS AT THE TOWER. OH, AND I WOULDN'T GO BACK TO YOUR APARTMENT.
"Why?"
IT'S UM IT'S NOT THERE.
"WHAT?!" Crawler shouted, and a flock of birds took off flying away in fear.
I'LL TELL YOU WHEN YOU GET BACK. WELLS OUT.
The watch display went back to displaying the time, and Crawler sighed. She wanted answers, but it seemed that she would have to wait until she got back to Paris. Seeing as how she had a good half-hour until her ride would get there, she pulled out her tool kit and sat on a large rock, beginning to work on fixing her hand.
The sun was just beginning to set behind the trees as the whine of twin ion engines filled the sky. Crawler looked up into the sky and smirked as the sight of a TIE Bomber hovered above the field in which she sat. She grabbed her tools and gears from the ground and stood, waving her one hand to motion to the Bomber to land.
Once the Imperial machine was on the ground, Crawler ran over to the machine and opened the access hatch. She pulled herself up into it, then walked to the empty seat in what had once been the bomber's seat.
In fact, there was nothing regulation about this TIE Bomber. Crawler had retrofitted it to her standings. Where the driver's seat had been now sat what looked like a protocol droid, but with a synthflesh head and normal clothing to make the flyer appear human. And with the help from a few of her friends and makeup, he could actually pass for being cute.
The bomber's seat was a plush leather seat with another set of flight controls. A storage compartment was in the back, and a fold down bed was against the wall behind the droid. If she wanted to, she could swing her leather chair around, remove the droid from its socket and pull out the bed, making her bomber a crunched but mini bunkroom when needed.
"Hello Bob," Crawler said, flopping down in her seat.
Bob the protocol droid turned his head to face Crawler. "Are you hurt, Mistress?"
"No, I'm fine, Bob. Just need to do some final adjustments." She reached into the bomber station's glove box and pulled out a soldering gun.
"But your face…"
"It's fine, Bob. A little scarring never hurt anyone. I'll use some of the bacta patches in my bag at home when we get there…" And if they survived.
Bob nodded, watching the tiny flume of smoke rise from Crawler's mechanical hand as she soldered the two wires together. "You know, Mistress, if any of my gears or wires could be of service…"
Crawler laughed as she looked at her droid. Bob was as close to a human replica droid as she could build in her free time. It had taken about six months to retrofit the bomber and build Bob, but the end product was more than she had hoped for. She now had a traveling home, and a companion.
"It's fine, Bob. Why don't you plot us a course back to Paris while I finish this up?"
"Sure thing, Mistress. I'll have us back in no time."
Crawler smiled and pulled out a new synthflesh glove, only to notice it was also damaged from her last mission. She sighed and fumbled around in the glove box and pulled out a pair of black gloves with the fingers cut out. She replaced the synthflesh glove on her hand and flexed her fingers, happy that the appendage was finally back in working order. She then slipped the gloves over both her hands and smiled.
Now this look I could get used to, she thought, comparing the gloves to the rest of her new ensemble of clothing.
"So, Mistress, anything we need to do before we get back to Paris?" Bob asked, lacing his droid fingers behind his head while the Bomber flew back its course on auto-pilot. "Game of sabacc or something?"
Crawler smiled. She was glad that she had programmed Bob to be more human. It made for fun conversation. "I've got to call the professor and let him know I'm OK. He's probably flipping out when I lost contact."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. He's logged a few communication requests."
"Figures."
"Your mother also called. Wanted to see how you were."
"And what did you tell her?"
"The normal. That you were busy and would call her back when you had a moment."
"Thanks Bob."
"No problem, Mistress. You know I love being your pilot and messaging service."
Crawler leaned over and kissed the droid on the top of his head. "Why don't you also act like a cook and find me something to eat now?"