A/N: This is a prequel to that story Mia and I are working on still. I figured while the rest of that story was still resting comfortably in development hell, I'd get this first chapter out of the way. Also, there's a good chance I might work on the rest of this during NaNoWriMo.
Oh, one more thing: while Spy does give out his real name here, he will not be referred to as such for the rest of the fic. He does go by many names, after all.
Alright, enjoy!
February 16th, 1938
At now just twenty years old, he was already well on his way to mastering the fine art of killing. A Frenchman by birth and a drifting spy in occupation, he intended to wander through Europe for many years and... well, that was all he planned to do as far as he was concerned. The only one holding him back was Adele, his mother who'd made a profession of being a courtesan for many years. He had no idea who his father was; he'd been killed during the Great War before he was born. According to Adele, he'd also been married to another woman but that's all he really knew about him.
Well, anyway, he was off to infiltrate a monastery that was supposedly housing some of the most corrupt monastics in Bassac, Charente. From what he'd managed to gather, the nuns living there had decided to partake in plotting to kidnap children and train them into God's ultimate soldiers. He'd heard a rumor from another spy that these soldiers of God were supposed to kickstart another crusade of epic proportions into Jerusalem; naturally, he'd decided that he would be the one to stop them.
However, on his way to the monastery, as if out of nowhere, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen appeared before him and pulled out a handgun. He fell in love almost instantly. Her radiant olive skin and spectacularly scarlet red hair made her stand out against the magnificent backdrop of the French landscape, which was fortunately saturated with all the vibrant shades of green in the world.
"Who do you think you are?" the woman growled at him.
"I'm a spy like I presume you are," he replied. "What are you doing here anyhow?"
"I'm here to stop these nuns from turning the children into soldiers of God."
"So am I."
The woman just stared at him while she lowered her gun. "I see... well, then. I guess I have no choice but to kill you."
"I'm sorry?"
"You heard me. I have to kill you before you can compromise my career."
"I'm not here to compromise anything."
"Prove it."
He came forward and pulled her into an embrace, which unsurprisingly managed to throw her off-guard. She wanted to fight him off, but for some reason, she just stood there and let him kiss her. It would have to do for now.
The next day, he went off to see the woman again. For some reason, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He didn't need another woman in his life right now; he had Adele to take care. Poor Adele. She was always coming down with something, whether it was a venereal disease equivalent to syphilis or something as mundane as the flu. He couldn't even imagine what would happen if he came home and he found her dead at the table.
The woman managed to spot him immediately and, without even so much as a "Hello," slapped him across the face.
"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "Is that the way you greet a man you just met?"
"How could you force yourself on me like you did yesterday? I could kill you right now if it weren't for my conscience!"
"Are you Italian, perchance?"
The red-haired woman gasped softly at this. "How did you know? Was it the way I slapped you?"
"Yes."
She instantly calmed down. "Forgive me. My temper can get the best of me sometimes. The name's Jacqueline. What about you?"
"I go by many names, but you can call me Henri."
Jacqueline found herself smirking at this. "Hmm... what a quaint little name. You're a quaint man, aren't you?"
He slightly chuckled at this. "'Quaint,' I think, is a bit of an understatement. Would you like to go out sometime?"
"I would say I have plans, but sure. Why not?"
"Then it's settled. We'll meet up tomorrow night right here. Sound good to you?"
"Sounds good to me."