Jennifer Morgan got out of Vought's grasp in the mid-90s and has been under the radar ever since, turning into a mercenary for hire to make ends meet. When Hughie Campbell and Billy Butcher break into her apartment and pitch to her the notion of kil...
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───── ❝We are truly a Godless Nation❞ ─────
《☆》★《☆》★《☆》★《☆》★《☆》
"Chin up, sweetheart, don't slouch," her mother scolded as they sat in the pews near the front of the church for Sunday service. Jennifer pulled the hem of her dress down to try and cover her knees as she sat against the sticky varnished wooden pew.
"Sorry," she whispered in reply whilst reaching for the dainty silver cross that dangled against her collarbones. Seventeen and so blindly naive to the hungry stares of the boys that sat around her with their families. A glance to her right had her eyes meet those of Matthew, a boy that lived across the street from her. They always spoke and interacted at school. He was a good guy.
What she was currently unaware of was the way Tommy couldn't look away from the healthy slice of cleavage on display to him, framed with that dainty silver cross. Jen had no idea that he wasn't thinking about the Lord's prayer or how to live without sin. He was picturing her on her knees, looking up at him through her thick eyelashes, that cross glittering on her chest as his fingers wound into her hair.
Thankfully the afternoon was almost over, with Holy Communion just a few short minutes away and then they could go home. Jen continued to fuss over the hem of her dress, though she kept her eyes fixed on Father Patrick as he read a passage from the Bible that she was barely paying attention to.
An unseasonably warm Spring breeze blew through the open windows and ruffled some of the papers that were clutched in people's hands. Jen could've suffocated on the concentrated feeling of pure boredom. Church, though a necessity to keep her parents happy, wasn't the most fulfilling part of her week.
The congregation rose and began forming a line from youngest to eldest for Holy Communion. Jennifer shuffled along awkwardly beside boys from her school and their eagle-eyed mothers. She let out a long breath as they all took a step forward. Though it signalled the end of a long Sunday afternoon, Jennifer couldn't stand the taste of Communion wine.
"Quit starin'," she grumbled as the van's movement jostled her awake from the relatively peaceful sleep.
"Sorry," Hughie fumbled and shifted in his seat, but Jennifer shook her head and cleared her throat.
"Not you. Face ache," she stated, nodding to MM, whose piercing gaze barely made her wince, "What's your problem?"
"Nothin'. There's no problem," he replied almost immediately as she adjusted her hoodie and crossed her arms over her chest, resting her head on the door.
