xp_logs | Amanda and Morgan, en route

On Emma's Lear, Amanda and Morgan talk a little about Amanda's real job and the quality of mercy. Or lack thereof.

This was the hitch when a person hired you for a job that took less time than the minimum they were paying you for, you ended up recruited on no notice at all to get on a jet and shoot people. Well, the shooting was more a potential but Morgan didn't really foresee the situation as lending itself to people not being shot. At least the jet was comfortable. That didn't stop Morgan from being restless.

The pacing needed to stop, up and down the length of the cabin Morgan walked, her steps precisely placed in front of one another heel-to-toe. She finally called it quits and flopped down into a chair next to Amanda. Her head landed on the blonde's shoulder a moment later. "You won't take it the wrong way when I tell you I'd rather not be seeing you right now, aye?"

"No offence taken," Amanda reassured her with a faint smile, turning from where she'd been staring sightlessly out the window. "So, now you get the whole secrecy thing, at least? Mutant think tank by day, mutant super spies by night sort of thing."

"Super spies?" Morgan smirked at her, looking up at Amanda from her shoulder perch. "I was thinking more like 'has anger issues and likes to kill shit,' personally. I guess super spies works. Yeah, I get the secrecy, though. But the super spy side kick to the superheroes thing really doesn't come with much warning. I pretty much got 'well, we payin' you for two weeks anyway' from LeBeau and grabbed my stuff." She shrugged. Morgan obviously wasn't bothered by it, more commenting. It was a bit unexpected when she found out she was being dragged along for extra firepower, though.

"It's pretty much par for the course, the lack of notice. I've started keeping an 'essentials' bag under my desk for this sort of thing. You know the sort of thing, field dressings, travel grimoire, spare underwear and a toothbrush..." Amanda's tone was light, but there was a certain weariness to her face and voice that sleep hadn't shifted. "Hopefully we get to finish the job on Poccy this time. I hate it when the fuckers keep coming back."

"Well you lot can keep your essentials bags. I'll take my ammunition and weapons bag with my dedicated weeks being shot at, thanks." Morgan lacked the weariness Amanda seemed to have clinging to her. She liked working. Admittedly, she missed it and that was part of why she'd accepted the job offer from LeBeau that had brought her to Africa and now onto the jet. As much as she liked her life right now, it didn't feel like it was hers. It was just a loner. "Aye, well, sometimes they come back. And then you put a few bullets in their head, cut the fucking thing off and burn the heart." After a moment of pause Morgan straightened up and gave Amanda a questioning look. "Was that a little too wild-with-tribesman-in-Africa there?"

"No, that sounded about right. That one works on some demons too, tho' they pong a bit when you burn them. I like hitting them with trains better - nothing like turning a bad guy to pulp to satisfy yourself they aren't coming back." Amanda shifted slightly, careful not to jostle Morgan from her spot. "How've things been mansion-wise?"

With Amanda's assurance it wasn't too bushman Morgan settled more comfortably on her shoulder again. "Aye, but the problem with trains is they're a bit inconvenient. You've never got one when you really want one. Eighteen wheelers are a bit more numerous. Maybe a good alternative." The mercenary was grinning with vivid, cartoon images of bad guys going splat on the grill of a truck running through her head.

"Mansion-wise is alright, actually. Cupcake's bouncing around. She nicked something from my mum for me." Morgan pulled out the pocket watch she'd been wearing every day since Christmas, despite the danger of it breaking in the field. If it broke then she was likely broken too and it wouldn't matter anymore. "I've been adopted by the purple catgirl like everyone else who doesn't object and I've adopted or been adopted by a gay boyfriend. If it wasn't for that one, glaring, gaping hole life would be fucking lovely there, y'know?" She didn't think Amanda needed to have it spelt out who or what that gaping hole was.

"Hmm, I'll have to look into that. I have a knack with cities, if you hadn't noticed." Amanda touched a gentle finger to the watch for a moment, nodding slightly - she understood gifts and what they could mean. Then her face darkened at the mention of holes. "Yeah, I know. I just wish..." She bit her lip slightly. "I just wish we knew for sure. With Pete, none of his stuff he's had set up has been touched, so we're reasonably certain, but without a body..." She trailed off. "It'd just help."

Morgan shifted and draped a protective arm around Amanda's shoulders. "Aye." Her nod said more than words could about the depth of understanding she had. "There's lots of things you could be that are between dead and being here. Some of them aren't too bad. Some of them are worse than death. It'd be better knowing specifics. At least then there can be rest, in lots of ways. Or bloody fucking vengeance and a person to direct it toward."

"Pete... he wasn't exactly a paragon of virtue. In a lot of ways, he was as bad as Gambit. But he took me in without a second thought, made me family. I know he wanted better for me than this life, but it's what I want to do. If at least so no-one else has to." Amanda took a slightly shuddering breath, concentrated on calming herself. "When we find the fuckers who did this, I'm going to make what happened to Post look like a fucking picnic." Then the afterthought. "As long as they're in a city big enough for me to get a handle on."

"The person you are is informed by the things you do and the choices you make," Vanessa told her softly. "But the things you do are not who you are. It's just influence. It doesn't matter how bad the things he does are or were. In the end, who you are is measured by something entirely different. Even bad people are loved so they can't be all bad. At least not if they are honest and loved despite their actions." It was something she'd believed for a long time. It was something Aleister had taught her. If Vanessa didn't believe that she was not merely the sum of the things she'd done she likely would have broken when Aleister had tried to rebuild her. "You need help, you have mine, no questions asked and anything you want me to do," she offered sincerely. "I've my own reasons for wanting to see them in agony. Death is too good for some people." Her voice was quiet and soft the entire time she spoke. There was a scary amount of resolution which contradicted the tone of her voice starkly.

"Thanks, mate." Amanda knew the offer was more than empty words or bravado and had nothing but sincere gratitude for it. "We can bring Adri back an ear or something, yeah? Souvenir."

Morgan actually laughed. "Maybe I should ask her what her preferred limb is. Maybe she'll want a finger. Or an eye. Or the honor of having said bastard's nuts in a jar. If it's a he. We'll improvise if it's a chick."