Legacy Unraveled (Kendall Roy X Reader)

Chapter One

Authors Note from Kendall Roy (aka your author)

Yo, Kendall here. Whaddup playa. Um, okay, so, before you dive into this whole thing, I should probably mention a few, you know, housekeeping items. First off, I've taken some... let's call them 'creative liberties' with scenes from the show. Why? Because this is a fucking fan fiction, not an episode guide. I mean, come on, as I once laid it down: "You can't make a Tomelette without breaking some Greggs," right? So if things seem a bit twisted from what you remember, that's... well, that's the vibe.

Look, remember when I rapped, "The world is just one big hospice with fresh flowers"? Life's wild, and sometimes, you've gotta take the narrative into your own hands. I did that with this. It's my beat, my jam. So, you know, take it with a grain of salt, or a shot of tequila.

In the immortal words of yours truly, "L to the OG." Don't get too caught up in the details. This ain't your grandma's recap; it's a fresh take. So, um, yeah... fucking enjoy it, okay?

Alright, enough of the pre-show. Dive in, enjoy the ride, and remember - just like in life, sometimes you're the boar, and sometimes you're on the floor. Stay cool, and happy reading. ✌️🎤

cloudlesscliche

Chapter 1

With the crisp orange glowy skyline of New York folding into night, Emma reached for her brandy and coke. The once gregarious square ice cube was now a small, measly oblong shape, mixing the cocktail into a watered down homogenous mixture that was still potent enough to get her fairly drunk. Leaning back in her chair, she took in the sight before her, New York transitioning from day to night was still as beautiful as when she first saw it. The buildings slowly lit up into treasured ornaments, filling the vast sky before her eyes into chandeliers of light. For a moment, she was fine - The Smiths kept her company as the record playerin the corner of her living room hummed. Her thoughts were calm, serene even if she would admit it. New York, the city, had this grounding effect on Emma, maybe it was the anonymity, the loneliness that made her come down from the effects of her usual madness. Her phone buzzed underneath her thigh, fishing for it, she noticed she had missed a call from Amber. Amber was likable enough, so Emma hit redial, adjusting herself on the seat.

"Emma, how are you doing? Excited for tomorrow" Amber halfway squealed through the receiving end of the phone. Emma sighed, remembering that she had a meeting with the ruler of the universe tomorrow morning - Logan Roy.

"I'm good, you know - cycling between fucking insanity and complete serenity, but you know that" Emma chuckled, mindlessly twirling her finger in the now completely melted cocktail.

"What do you think he wants to say?" Amber semi pryed. Usually Emma would be irritated by such a question but this time, she understood the angle. When someone talks to God, you'd want to know what he'd say too.

"Who knows, I mean, he could want anything. Intel, consulting, Croatian hookers, a fucking turkey sub on wheat. Logan Roy doesn't exactly send a fucking memo when setting up meetings" She sighed. In truth, Emma did have some idea what Logan could possibly want. He was the only person who knew her father. Not from the papers and news chernobyl level fallout of his disgraced experiments in the automotive industry. But Cyrus - the homely man turn mogul with his groundbreaking innovations in the industry. Cyrus and Logan were close at one point- with Logan confiding in Cyrus about his early lawsuits with ABC over broadcasting technicalities, but it still greatly worried Logan as Waystar was still in it's infancy compared to the media conglomerate. Those days were far gone though, and obviously tables had turned, and Logan may want any number of things from her.

"Well I'm sure it's going to be fine, but let me know if he really has the head of FOX Studio embalmed in his office" Amber quipped, letting out a large huff of air. Emma joined in on the laughter, quickly changing the subject to something lighter, airier to get the behemoth of what she had to do tomorrow off her back. Soon, they exchanged goodbyes and Emma put her phone on silent. She already had her outfit ready, a custom Kiton navy power suit hanging on the door. She unzipped the garment bag, blankly staring at the expensive suit, and it stared back at her. For some reason it reminded her of Cyrus. Brooding yet warm, the deception of his former partners creating a cold man who completely reclused from the public by the end of his life, dying quickly in London when Emma was only sixteen. Her father never got to see her graduate from high school or college, go to the prom, help her with her first job - or better yet, first firing. All she had left was VHS tapes, photos and letters he left her on his death bed and of course - a sizable inheritance. The more she stared at the the suit, the more is made her face wry in sadness. Zipping up the garment bag, Emma slipped into bed - not before popping two, just kidding three melatonin pills and drifting off to a dreamless sleep.