Underground Hatred - My Hero Origins (MHO)

19: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Word Count: 2423

(Kat)

 Kat's heart was in her throat, violently thrumming against her trachea as she watched the secretary open the door ajar with anxious, amber eyes. Her knuckles were white against the strap of her satchel strap against her chest, strangling the neck of the bag. Her palms were growing warm and moist, a silent breath barely able to travel to her lungs.

Hazel peeked in; Kat unable to peer around the woman into the room. In a cheery voice, the woman expressed, "Mrs. Queen, someone would like to speak with you."

'Like,' Kat scoffed to herself. 'Like' is the absolute opposite of what I'm going through.

A mumble came from behind the oak door, granting permission for Kat to enter the office. Hazel glanced back to Kat, raised her eyebrows, and leaned forward to whisper in a voice only Kat could hear, "Remember: get me that fucking job and I'll know exactly who Triton is."

Kat's teeth locked together, glaring at Hazel with daggers. A fist wished to fly at the smug expression on the woman's face, but Kat withheld herself. Instead, she brushed past Hazel with a little, threatening bump of Kat's shoulder to the secretary's. Kat pushed away the shell-shocked expression Hazel gave and walked straight into the room, closing the door behind without any permission.

The office was light and airy, windows lining the opposite wall to act as a barrier between the room and the two-story drop. An elongated desk sat to the right with two chairs seated at the front and a third seated behind. The floors were a nice, dark wood while the desk was a grand, light oak table—a similar color to the door—and the chairs were black, lined with leather and metal legs. The other side of the office held a small living set, completed with a leather black sofa and the same oak for a coffee table decorated with an extravagant tissue box (quite unnecessary) and a potted plant, a red Morocco rug to top it off. A cozy feeling drifted through the space, but also the sense of modern and prestige to accompany it.

Out the window was a view of the streets below that belonged to the heart of Monarch City. Vehicles passed, bicycles zoomed, people meandered: the perfect place for a hero agency in such a large and magnificent city. The good, the bad, and the ugly resided along those streets, flooding with what made the city so great—what made the city what it was. It buzzed like a beehive; it swam like a school of fish. It was all Kat knew: and what beheld itself in front of Kat was all she knew for most of her life.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Standing at the window beside the desk was a woman who was an inch or two taller than Kat. She wore a dark blue suit, orange hair pinned halfway back. Emerald green eyes gazed in shock in Kat's direction. The woman's jaw was on the floor. Her arms hung loosely by her sides, the once powerful stance that remained ingrained in Kat's mind gone. This woman was a stranger to a loss of words, always having something to say. Nothing tumbled from her mouth.

Kat's mouth drew itself into a tight line, fidgeting awkwardly in her place. From the lack of response from the woman in the room—which Kat was taken aback by—, she managed to mutter, "Hi Mom."

"Kathryn?" the woman muttered, taking a hesitant step inward of the room. Her eyes examined Kat from head to toe and back again. "Is that you?"

"Don't seem so shocked," Kat grumbled. A sense of dread, of guilt was crawling into her stomach and making its way up her chest. She released her hands from her bag's strap to brush away the feelings, but nothing worked; she stood with a straight back and hard eyes. "And it's Kat, not Kathryn."

Kat's mom ignored the girl's words, her voice picking up. "Why are you here? You said—"

"I know what I said," Kat interrupted, her face wincing a tad. Her brain struggled through the emotions swirling inside her being. "I'm only here to convince you of something—something that I've been thinking about for a while now."