Crawler sat on the edge of a water fountain, her eyes closed, letting the mist of the water cool her face. It had been a long day already, and it was only noon, Paris time.
So she had decided to take on Wells' assignment. So what? It gave her something to do during the day. Not like she slept. Sleep was something she avoided at all costs. So she would play tracker during the day, and hired muscle at night. Sooner or later, it would all pay off.
A flicker of movement beside her made her open her eyes slowly. She saw a man coming to sit beside her on the fountain rim.
"Bon après-midi, belle," the man stated, giving Crawler the smile of a man full of himself. She knew the look. Wells wore it often. "Vous occuperiez-vous d'une certaine compagnie? J'ai un ans qui peut vous faire la trouvaille que la chaleur n'est pas toujours une mauvaise chose."
It took her a few moments to get the drift of what the man was asking. She still didn't understand the language, but was able to pick out certain words and come to educated guesses on what the person was saying.
"Mangez la merde et la matrice, porc," she responded, standing up. She knew she mangled the language, and could only hope that she had remembered the right terms. Quickly, she turned on the man and gave him a swift slap across his cheeks, then pushed him backwards as so he fell into the fountain. If words don't get my meaning across...
"Chienne stupide!" the man shouted, pulling himself out of the fountain and trying to brush away the water from his suit.
Crawler just smiled and turned, walking away. Now that was fun.
The sun had set by the time Crawler returned to her apartment. She quickly slipped from her street clothing into her black flightsuit. She had searched every hostel and youth facility in the greater Paris area, and there was no luck on finding Wells's quarry.
But she was always up for a challenge.
She was working to get the throwing star holder in place when a familiar sounding noise came from the window. She rushed to it and leaned out, looking up into the starry sky. But whatever had caused the sound had vanished. Probably just hearing things.
"You know, leaning out the window half naked will attract attention."
Crawler sighed and didn't turn around. She zipped her flightsuit up the rest of the way, then turned to look at Wells. "Maybe I would get a person who is better than my present company."
Wells chuckled. He sat down on the one chair in the sparsely furnished apartment and crossed his legs. "Any luck today?"
Crawler shrugged. "She's not in any of the hostels. Nor youth facilities. And unfortunately no morgues recognize the face either."
"You checked the morgues?" Wells asked, raising an eyebrow. "How morbid."
"You want her dead, I assume. Just making sure no one has beaten you to the job."
"I don't want her dead. I want to find out what she knows, if anything."
"And then?" Crawler leaned against the windowsill.
"Then . . . that is none of your concern." Wells stood and walked to the door. He took out a few bills and put it on the kitchen counter. "Buy yourself something formal."
"What, you don't like my clothing now?" Crawler asked. "Or would you rather I go more . . . natural?" She gave him a seductive smile, annoying him more than teasing.
"I'd rather you buy yourself a comfortable yet alluring dress. We have a party to go to in a few days and I would like you to fit in, for once."
"And you couldn't find a date again?" Crawler chuckled. "Don't tell me you're slipping, Wells."
"Just do it." Wells spat, and he walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Crawler laughed to herself and went back to adjusting her throwing star holster. Yes, she knew exactly how to have her fun.