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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───── ❝ this doesn't change shit, by the way ❞ ─────
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The motel was less than optimal but it would have to do to lie low. Ben, now donning a Giants jersey and grey sweatpants, was all too happy to tear into the burger and fries Hughie and Butcher had brought back. Jen knew she had to eat but couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she sat by the cracked-open window and smoked, letting it curl lazily around her lips before it drifted out into the fresh air.
"Where's the Chop Sockey Oriental Sauce?" Ben questioned, clearly disgruntled at the lack of sauce.
"They - uh, they don't have that anymore," Hughie replied tentatively.
"Why the fuck not?"
"Be nice," Jen admonished from the sofa, blowing another cloud of smoke out the window.
"Are you fuckin' him? Is that why you're stickin' up for him?" Ben snapped in her direction. She took another drag and stubbed it out, crossing over to him and deliberately blowing the smoke in his face.
"Do I look the type to fuck someone like him? Even if I was, that's not your fuckin' business." Jen returned to her seat and tucked her legs up, watching from a safer distance.
"Did you at least get the other shit?" Ben asked Butcher pointedly, who crossed over with a paper bag. A bottle of whisky and a bottle of pills. The rattle of the orange plastic as he picked it up and scrutinised the label made her itch for the stash in her duffel bag in the next room over.
"That's how we won D-Day, y'know?" he bragged, shaking the bottle with a smirk.
"Right, let's 'ave a little chat about this team up, yeah?" Butcher posed as Ben crushed up a few pills with the handle of his knife.
"Yeah, what the hell do I need a team for? The last team I had gave me to the Reds."
"We got you out of that little pickle. Wrapped up Crimson Countess and delivered 'er like a fuckin' Christmas Turkey. And I sorted Gunpowder for you," Butcher explained, pacing around the table.
"Am I supposed to be impressed by that? It's like killing Emanuel Lewis." Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hughie attempting to lift Ben's shield and failing miserably.
"Anyway, you want payback on Payback, don't you? Well, it just so 'appens that we -" Butcher grabbed Hughie "- Are experts at exterminating shitbag Supes."
"It's a whole other world out there now, Ben. You're gonna need our help -"
"I can find them on my own," he insisted with a cocky grin, the tip of his nose dusted with the remnants of crushed pills. He continued to eat the unwrapped burger in front of him and Hughie scoffed.
