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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───── ❝ he's right fuckin' there - and now you blink ❞ ─────
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"Where is 'e?" Butcher asked as he stepped into the lounge. Hughie finished cleaning the brains leaking from his ears before turning to look at him.
"Oh, you mean since he told us he's supposed to kill his son? Locked himself in the bathroom with a bottle of Ol' Grandad," he replied with a shrug. Jen couldn't fathom the position he was in and had tried several times to get him out of the bathroom, with no such luck. No sooner had Hughie spoken, than he appeared in the doorway, pouring himself a drink.
"Let's be off then, eh? Get some more V and then Hughie can jump us to where the cunts are," Butcher explained whilst shrugging on his jacket. Jen stood up and pushed her hands into her jacket. She was trying to be sparing with the Oxy now that she was down to one bottle but being trapped by Mindstorm had done a number on her wellbeing.
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Stopped for gas in the middle of nowhere, Butcher and Hughie went inside for a bathroom break, leaving Jennifer and Ben in the back of the car.
"What was it like?" he asked, breaking the silence. Jen turned to face him a little more, unsure of how to answer.
"What?"
"When Mindstorm put you under?"
"Ben, I -"
"- No, no it's fine, forget I asked -"
"It was fucking terrifying. Watching those memories play back and not being able to change a damn thing..." Tears stung in her eyes and she resented how easily it seemed to get under her skin. She turned back to look out of the window, withdrawals starting to kick in, so she reached for her bag and took a few pills to take the edge off.
Nothing more was said as they took off again, Butcher returning and putting them back on the road.
"Where's the cum guzzler?" Ben questioned, gesturing to the empty passenger seat.
"You were spot on about 'im. There I was, fillin' up the motor, turn around and the little git 'ad done a runner," Butcher explained glancing at them both in the rearview mirror. Jen didn't buy it but didn't say anything. Not yet at least.
"We needed him to get near Noir," Ben replied with a resigned look on his face, staring holes into the back of Butcher's head.
"Ah, don't you worry about that, guv. I got it all worked out..." Reluctantly, Ben didn't argue.
"Wake me when we get to New York," he requested before leaning back against the upholstery and closing his eyes. Jen wished she could do the same.
"Not gettin' some shut-eye, Jenny?" Butcher quipped as they joined a highway.
