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The batting cages are a nice change of pace in a city lit up by neon. No lights, no touchscreens, no massless holograms. Morgan turns off the VR, relishing the dull concrete walls. She picks up the bat, feeling its weight, and swings, hitting the balls with a loud crack that she can feel vibrate in her hands. It’s satisfying to use force.
But not as satisfying as it is to see the burst of blood when she kills.
Reasonably sated for the time being, Morgan gathers her things and heads over to the Lucky Dragon to get some dinner. The dining area, like most restaurants that aren’t formal enough to have the atmosphere be as much of the point as the food, is empty. Everyone orders online and gets takeout these days.
There are a few people standing in line to order, and one person hanging back by the door, pondering the menu. Morgan feels herself tense as she recognizes the head of frizzy brown hair.
“Sorry, you can go ahead of me. I’m still deciding,” says Emma Rockford, single-mindedly staring at the menu.
“Emma! Fancy seeing you here,” chimes Morgan with a bright smile.
Emma finally looks her way. “Oh, hello Morgan,” she greets politely. “You ever been here before?”
Morgan patronizes the Lucky Dragon frequently, though not regularly. “A couple of times!”
“Got any suggestions for what to get? I can’t decide,” sighs Emma.
“Hm…” Morgan hums as she pretends to ponder her answer. Having no idea about Emma’s preferences in Chinese food, she simply suggests her own order. “How about the mapo tofu? That’s what I was going to get.”
“Yeah?” Emma looks back at the menu, considering. “Maybe…”
“What about you? You get a craving for Chinese?” asks Morgan.
Emma smiles. “Heh, not me. I’m actually meeting someone here.” She pulls out her phone and checks the time before sliding it back into her enormous purple purse.
That gets Morgan’s attention. Emma Rockford isn’t just good at compartmentalizing between friendly and adversarial when it comes to her job. Like Morgan, she keeps her personal life private, and as such, information about her outside of work is rare. “Oh? Anyone I know?” she asks, putting on her friendliest smile.
“No. Well,” Emma corrects herself. “You did know David Ashur of all people, so I wouldn’t put it entirely past you. But it’s unlikely.”
“Well, don’t leave me in suspense!” Morgan says brightly.
Before Emma can reply, another customer walks into the store. “Sorry I’m late, babe,” she says as she approaches, looking at Emma.
Morgan’s first thought is Oh great, there’s two of them.
Sure, Girlfriend is tall (was she the same height as Morgan?), thin, and blonde, but her demeanor is strikingly similar to the good DA. The disheveled hair. The slightly rumpled clothes that prioritized comfort over style. (Were those neon pink clogs?!) Pretty face, light makeup, glasses, exhausted expression. Judging by the scrubs and badge (that reads V. James), she likely worked at the hospital a few miles away. Healthcare— another entity dedicated to stopping Morgan, though in a very different way than the State. No doubt James is another brilliant mind in her prestigious field who can bond with Emma over long hours and intellectual work. What a perfect little couple they are.
“There you are,” Emma says lightly. “Vic, this is Morgan. She’s a defense attorney.”
So Emma’s never mentioned her. Of course, why would she?
James holds out her hand. “Victoria. Nice to meet you, Morgan.”
Victoria James
D.O.B.: April 9th
Height: 176 cm
Weight: 64 kg
Blood Type: AB+
Occupation: Anesthesiologist
Likes: Hair ties, Brunch, Sudoku
Dislikes: Eucalyptus, Humidity, Sour Candy
Reads: Mysteries
Love Language: Quality Time
Addiction: Caffeine
Morgan takes her hand and shakes it firmly, plastering a wide smile on her face. “The pleasure’s all mine!”
“Sorry to interrupt you,” James says politely.
Emma waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. We were just finishing up,” she says with finality.
Well, all right then. Morgan can tell when she’s not wanted.
“So good to see you, Emma!” Morgan plays along. Maybe she’s laying it on a little thick, but Emma seems eager enough to avoid any reminders of work right now that she might just get away with it. “Enjoy your evening!”
Morgan breaks away from the happy couple, seething with a smile on her face. It’s not jealousy– Morgan’s had a girlfriend before and she enjoyed killing her far more than partaking in any stereotypically romantic activities. She hadn’t even cared enough to try most of them. Beyond that, though, she has no idea.
“Hello, I’ll have the dandan noodles,” Emma’s voice cuts into Morgan’s reverie.
Bitch.
An Add finally calls out order number 78 and it takes all of Morgan’s willpower to walk up and take it at her normal speed. Emma and James are seated at a table as they wait, engaged in easygoing conversation. The sight of them makes Morgan’s skin itch, and they don’t look her way once as she leaves.