#yes i do have too many to keep track of already lol

[depressed-sock]

Morgan Lace

I had this idea in my head and had to get it written down before I did anything else.

  Also Morgan keeps changing their story on me. First, they had a really depressing beginning and now it’s this XD

Might have some things that would be considered spoilers below

 “Do you understand your mission?” your handler asks you, as they have always have done.

  “I do,” you don’t hesitate because you fully understand what you're supposed to do, as you always have.

 “You’re fully sure you understand mission parameters,” they stress the point looking at you seriously.

 “I do,” you repeat, you don’t really get why they have to stress this. You only got lost the one time...two times...five times… Okay, maybe they’re right to be a little worried but you’ve got it this time. There will be no distractions.

 ….

The first 4 hours:

 The mission is an assassination, the only information you are given is her appearance and schedule. Nothing more and nothing less, as it has always been. You spy her through your scope, red hair flashing in the light. You steady your aim, breathing in and out slowly, finger pressing slightly down the trigger.

 ‘Meow’

 That is not the sound that was supposed to happen. You let go of the trigger turning your head to find a grey tabbing sitting next to you on the roof. It tilts its head before walking up to, rubbing against your arm purring. Its absolute joy of seeing a person brushes against your mind. This is… not what expected.

 You let go of the gun and sit up reaching out towards the cat who happily pushes its head into your hand. You can feel a smile on your face as you feel it’s unbridled happiness at the attention, it’s been a long time since you smiled.

 “Are you lost?” you ask it quietly letting it jump into your lap to curl up. No collar and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be on a building scheduled to be demolished in a few days. You should probably take it somewhere safer, animals usually get left at shelters right?

…

 The cat hangs curled up against your neck, the hood of your jacket keeping her enclosed and warm. It’s definitely a strange cat. She’s also very demanding and hungry, you don’t exactly have money on you to by food but maybe you can find some. You sit down on some steps trying to think.

 “Oh my gosh, that’s so cute!” A girl with fiery red hair stands in front of you a happy smile on her face as she studies you and the cat. “Does she have a name?”

 “No.” she never told you a name… well technically no animal can really tell you a name but you don’t really get why you would know her name.

 The girl looks at you strangely, Strange man..woman? Person???

 Person… hmmm, you actually quite like that. Person… kind of like your handler, though you doubt they would approve…weren’t you supposed to do something?

 “Umm, well..” she seems unsure of herself now.

 “I found her just recently, I’m taking her to a shelter,” you explain trying to ease her awkwardness.

 “Oh! That’s kind of you!” she smiles at you again happily, such a nice person. Such a nice kitty too just like Morgan… I miss Morgan...

 “Do you want her?” you ask because you like this girl. You can feel her loneliness but you can see her kindness. The cat is also starting to perk up and take an interest.

 “What?! No… I can’t...I..Really?” I shouldn’t I shouldn't… fffff dammit

 You laugh gently letting the cat uncurl around your neck, “Yeah, you look like a nice person who will care for her,” you smile gently and now... she’s blushing. Oh uhhh you hadn’t meant to elicit that reaction.

 She looks down blushing, “Okay..” You gently hand her the cat and she curls up into the girl's arms purring, “Thank you. I guess I should name you shouldn’t I,” she boops the cat's nose, “How about Lace?”

 “That sounds perfect,” you smile at her and she laughs embarrassed.

 “Is there a way to contact you?” she asks as you stand up towering over her.

 “Nope,” you start to walk away waving goodbye much to her shock, “Thank you!”

 “Oh...Okay?”

…

The next 10 hours:

 You were supposed to do something, it’s on the tip of your tongue. You know it was a mission and you know you had a sniper rifle… shit, where did you leave that? At the building, shit. You stop and look around, streets and buildings you don’t recognize. How long have you been walking?

 You were lost in thought again and your handler is going to be mad. They always are. You let out a sigh, you should contact them. You reach into your pocket expecting to find your phone used only in case of emergencies only to find it’s not there….You must have left it at the building too. You're going to have to retrace your steps, you turn around and start to walk again.

 “Watch out!” you don’t respond fast enough as something soft and slimy slams into the back of your head. You reach back and it sticks to your hand pulling your long hair back as you try to untangle your hand. “Are you okay! I’m so sorry!” A boy runs up to you worriedly, crooked glasses almost falling off his face. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry “Oh no! It’s all in your hair!”

 You finally manage to unstick your hand, tearing a few strands of hair out. You bring your hand forward to find it coated in a sticky green substance. “What is it?”

 “It’s a school experiment,” the kid sighs wincing apologetically when he looks at your hand. “I’m sorry-”

 “Desmond!” a woman yells from across the street eyeing you warily. Goddamnit child did I not teach you stranger danger. “Get over here now!”

 “Sorry mom!” he looks back at you before taking off across the street but you react faster than him. You move fast grabbing him pulling him close to protect his body. You land hard, face hitting the corner of the sidewalk but the kid is safe as the car just barely misses the both of you.

 “Desmond!” The mother screams already kneeling by the both of you. She let out a sigh of relief and holds back a sob threatening to break loose when you open your arms and help him into a sitting position with you, “You need to pay more attention!” She wraps him into a hug and looks at you tearfully, “Thank you so much- oh god you’re bleeding!”

 You reach up and yeah your left cheek is definitely bleeding. “It looks worse than it really is,” you say trying to calm her.

 “Well at least let me get you something for it- what’s in your hair- Desmond!” she places her hands on her hips looking at her son expectantly.

 “Oops?” he smiles awkwardly and she lets out another sigh.

 “Let me see if I can find something to get that out too,” she grabs the boys hand helping him up with her.

 “Do you have a razor?” she pauses at your question, “It’d probably be easier to just cut it all off.” you shrug. It’ll grow back eventually.

 “Okay?”

…

 Your hand moves against your freshly shaved head, you’ve always liked the feel. Maybe you should put in a request to keep it this short. You look around and… you have no idea where you are.. Shit… You can’t even retrace your steps now. You squint into the distance, band-aid pulling tight against your skin and you fight the urge to pick at it.

 Maybe you should just pick a direction and walk? That’s most likely your best option. So you do, you walk until you can’t anymore and you find yourself sliding down against the wall of a brick building sitting. You should have thought this through… now your lost, tired and hungry… You frown as you study your hands.

 “Please help me!” a person cries out as they turn the corner, makeup running down their face trying to look over their shoulder but they end up tripping instead. I don’t want to die! A man with a knife turns the corner and you react by jumping up and tackling him to the ground. He swipes at your face, knife slicing into your lips but it leaves him open for you to land a solid punch effectively breaking his nose. He cries out in pain dropping the knife so that his hands could cradle his nose.

 Amature, you grab the knife and are about to finish him when the person cries out behind you, “Please don’t!” You flip the knife and punch him again, knocking him unconscious. You look back at them and they’re not sure if they should be terrified of you.

 “Are you okay?” you get up, flipping the knife closed and putting it into your pocket.

 They look at you a bit speechless, “You’re bleeding…”

 “Yeah that seems to happen to me a lot lately,” you respond, the cut over your mouth stings every time you talk.

 “Ummm...”

 “You should call the police,” you tell them to give them something to focus on.

 “I don’t-”

 “That building has a nice old man who will let you use his phone,” you point towards one three buildings down. He’s already heard the commotion and is coming to help whoever’s in danger.

 “...Okay..”

….

  42 hours later:

   You sit at a bar nursing a cold beer that an older man had ordered you with a wink. You don’t really get why he had thought scars and injuries were attractive but it got you free drinks and some food so you can’t really complain. He hadn’t had anything to drink but his mind didn’t say anything of deception and he left a few minutes ago when he got a call from his niece to come pick her up. He was expecting it, it seemed.

 You’re still trying to remember what your mission parameters were. You must still be on them because you have yet to get a call from your handler. They would immediately let you know if you’d have started to go off script. You can’t help the mental shrug, you guess your just going to have to wing it until they finally contact you.