Waking up the next morning Morgan found that her bedroom faced west. For most people this isn't a big deal, and she was one of those people. But for Ferals like her it seemed to be this big important thing, having sunlight in their room when they woke up.
She liked to think of herself as Feral at least, I mean that's what she was mostly before Stryker started his work on her. Morgan's real ability was to be able to absorb and manipulate another mutant's power, if she were to meet a mutant with an ability that she didn't have she'd somehow learn to copy them. She didn't know how she did it. They call it a mutation for a reason. But a feral was the first mutant she came across, and therefor it's the most dominant mutation in her inventory, so she got the heightened senses, healing factor, and god awful inability to age. And no fangs.
She knew when she first enrolled in Stryker's mutant division that she had been picked for her abilities. She thought she was a part of a special team, hell she was the only woman there, wasn't that enough to say something? But she was never really asked to work with Stryker, he preferred to take the 'men' out for missions, the few that she met were nice enough though. And that's how she met James, both of them sometimes go out for smaller missions, and he got stuck with her for a few years.
Morgan had lived in the base at Alkali for several years, in all honesty forgetting how long it truly was. Having joined at some point in 1975 when Stryker was a young man in the military, climbing up the job ladder as it were. And she, doing her part as an ignorant girl, followed him, until he created a special unit for mutants, and he left her behind. The thing she just wasn't as important or useful to him then, so she got forgotten, a blessing she had never realised until he came back. When James left he went mad, and created the Weapon X programme, testing procedures on her, until one day he stopped. And she was trapped in her cell of a room once again. With nothing to do and no-one to talk to time passed quickly and slowly at the same time, until the base started to collapse, and finally was able to escape.
Since then she'd been finding work pulling beers, or dancing her way through the local strip clubs. Not dancing as herself though. She'd met this woman briefly, never found out her name, who gave her one of her favourite abilities, being able to change her appearance. And this allowed her to dance as other women in the clubs, and take home their cash at the end of the night. Maybe it was stealing, okay she knew it was stealing, but what's a girl to do when she doesn't have a penny to her name?
A knock on her door broke her out of her daze.
"You ever gettin' up kid?" A gruff voice came from the other side of the wooden panel. "Chuck's waiting to meet yah."
She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the small couch that sat beneath the window, her clothes from the night before carefully folded on the end.
"Uh yeah, coming." She called out to him, "Hang on."
She pulled the covers back and slowly walked over to the couch to put on her clothes. Morgan sniffed at them and scrunched her nose. Smelling like smoke and booze was not the way to make a good first impression. Instead she looked in her duffel bag, an ugly thing she carried everywhere, for a pair of clean trousers, opting for some plain black jeans, but all of her shirts were stained and old, or like the one on the couch, in desperate need of a wash.
So she padded over to the door in jeans and bra before opening it.
Watching James' reaction was hilarious, his slouched position against the wall opposite to standing straight upright, and his eyebrows almost flying off his head in shock. For his sake he composed himself quickly, "You're meeting Chuck like that?" He asked incredulously.
"You got a shirt?" She ignored, "Mine are all gross."
He stepped aside and opened his bedroom door before going into his room. His back to her, she shut her door and followed him in.
His room was like hers, slightly bigger I suppose, and facing east. Told ya, Ferals like it when their bedrooms face east. His had more of his things, the room looked more lived in, with his boots were neatly lined up beside his wardrobe.
He turned around, handing her a plain white tshirt. "Thanks Jimmy." She smiled, pulling the top over my head, and carefully tucking the tags back under the shirt.
Morgan turned around to find a man with red glasses standing at the door, with a look of utter shock and confusion on his face. "Morning!" Morgan beamed at him before turning back to James, "Your friend's here James."
James stepped behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Four eyes." he greeted.
"Wolverine," he started, "I was just – And then I - We can't have you bringing random, uh, strangers, into..."
"Oh hold up specks," She interrupted, "Who said we were strangers? And if you're trying to say what I think you're saying, I suggest you stop, pretty fucking quickly."
"I uh, well." he stuttered.
"That's what I thought," She said, "Come on James, what's for breakfast?"
"You got no shoes?" James asked from his place opposite her at the bench table in, what he said was, the staff kitchen. Morgan was sat with her side to him, keeping her back to the wall so as to face the door to keep an eye on anyone who came in, with James in her peripheral vision.
She waggled her feet at him, "You got a problem with my socks?" She asked him. Personally she loved these socks, her dinosaur sock on the left and her "suck my *ock" on the right. He laughed. "I got one pair of boots, James, and they're covered in shit. I'm not gonna cover the house in all that crap."
"I go by Logan now." he said.
"Well I'm not gonna stop calling you James," She said, to which he frowned, "But I guess I won't call you that in front of the others if you want."
He raised his eyebrow at her, making her groan. "What?" she asked.
"Are we really friends?" he asked seriously.
"You don't remember anything do you?"
"I woke up surrounded by rubble with a bullet in my head kid," he said, rubbing his forehead unconsciously, "With some fucking Cajun rabbling at me, and a dead woman lying not 10 feet from me. That was 15 years before I came here, and now I been here 10 I've still got nothing before that."
"Do you want me to help with that?"
"You couldn't. Chuck says the memories are gone for good."
She laughed slightly, "Never said I could bring them back, I can show you mine though." She hesitated, "My memories of what we've done together."
He nodded. So she turned toward him, reached out her hands and placed them on his temples.
"You might feel a slight pinch."