Chapter Text
"Ms. Y/N?"
Your turquoise gaze shifted upwards to the middle-aged blond that looked as if he'd pass out from exhaustion without a moments notice, "Did you hear what I said?"
It wasn't that he thought you were deaf, he needed verbal acknowledgement.
"My apologies, just... processing" not a speck of sadness or remorse as your voice carried to his ears, "that woman meant nothing to me. I'm just surprised she bit the dust the way she did"
'Serves her right...'
Mera decided to skip right past your remarks, only vaguely aware of the strained relationship you had with your so-called mother, "Right, well then, you know why I'm here then?"
A brow raised, "Other than to advise the woman who gave birth to me has passed due to an attack on the now disbanded Safety Commission? No, I don't. I haven't spoken to her in 10 years so I'm honestly not sure why you wasted your precious time coming here"
Quite frankly, you're not even sure why you even let him in. Although, you supposed Mera never did anything to have wronged you, "Apologies, I don't mean to take out my frustration on you... so. What is it you're here for?"
Lifting up the small black briefcase from his left side, he gently placed it on the coffee table that separated you both, "Your mother's will"
Your eyes narrowed at the black briefcase as you leaned your cheek against your fist. Your elbow supported by the arm of the chair, "What about it?" You doubted she left anything to you, nor did you care. You didn't want or need her money. It was tainted by the lives she exploited. She stole, manipulated, and tortured so many people. The last thing you wanted was to live off her blood money.
Mera attempted to stifle a yawn as he popped the buttons on each side of the case; the man never did sleep well or had the opportunity for a good night's rest when working for Madam President.
You took a deep breath, to even out your clipped tone, "Did you want a cup of coffee?" You offered, to at the very least be courteous. He did come all the way down here, even if he was legally obligated.
"No, but thank you. I'll try to be quick about this" He looked up from the brown envelope he held in his hands, "I don't want to be here any longer than I have to either, I'd rather be napping" He bluntly stated.
Fair enough.
"Now then, this is the registered letter, detailing everything regarding your mother's estate" He held out the envelope to you, "You can skim across the first few pages and get to point of it all. As I'm sure you're aware, you're her only surviving relative"
You grabbed the corner tab of the envelope and ripped it open, "I may be her only relative, but I doubt she left anything of value to me. For all I know, this all could just be another way for her to throw her success in my face " your eyes scanned through the pages, skipping past the legality nonsense and funeral/cremation arrangements, etc... not that a funeral took place due to the war that had raged not long ago. For all you knew, her ashes were buried underground somewhere, with no hope to ever be found.
Isn't that rich?
You reached page seven of the document: the total value of her assets and her beneficiaries.
The total amount listed on the page with black ink made your insides twist with nausea; how could this vile woman profit this much money from so many tortured souls? How did she live with herself?
'Hope your burning in hell, you wicked witch' you sneered as you continued on.
Even if she was, it would never compare to the hell on Earth she subjected her victims to. Young boys and girls; stolen or bought from their families, all to become the 'greatest of heroes'... to replace the Symbol of Peace one day.
She made sure to take children from families she knew would be too tempted by the prospect of wealth or families of such poor backgrounds and status that if they were... disposed of... no one would bat an eye at.
The Lovely, Lady Nagant and the Winged Hero, Hawks were prime examples of this sickening result.
Your thoughts briefly shifted to the memory of the young boy with the golden hair and crimson wings, clutching his Endeavor doll with his tiny hands, seeking comfort he never received in his young life.
You'll never forget the hope in his amber eyes as he asked, "Will I become a hero like him? One who saves people... like he saved me?"
He did... he did turn out to become a great hero. One who saved people with his speed and determination. One you admired and pitied all the same.
You only caught a glimpse of the abuse and torment he was subjected to as a child to become the ultimate hero he was today... atleast, until... the recent assault unleashed by none other than All for One and the League of Villains.
The war was, in short term, brutal: full of bloodshed, violence and death... an absolute hell on Earth.
You watched every second of it; your gaze glued to the screen in front of you, clutching the blanket in your lap so tight your knuckles turned white and you had forgotten how to breathe.
A world where All for One was in control? No... you just couldn't imagine the horrifying possibility.
Your fear significantly rose as you watched one of the countries beloved hero's defeat.
The Winged Hero, Hawks, was no more.
His wings clipped from existence and the man that had his bloody hands gripping the young hero's neck, All for One, had stolen what made Hawks notorious for being 'too fast for his own good'. Covered in blood and horribly wounded, he was tossed to the ground as if he were nothing, as the man... no... monster, continued his assault on the other heroes. Tears blurred your vision as you tried to hold back sobs that wracked through your body at such horror.
It wasn't until the young U.A. student, Izuku Midoriya, aka, Deku, had fought as valiantly as he did and, as cheezy as it sounded, saved the day.
Broken from your thoughts, Mera cleared his throat, "I don't mean to be rude, but let's get this over with, shall we?" You could hear clear annoyance and exhaustion in his voice.
"Sorry" you didn't spare a glance at him as you continued towards the bottom of the page. By the sounds of it, her estate and belongings had been sold and auctioned off, adding to the dollar amount listed on the page.
'One less thing for the banks to deal with, I guess, now where's the 'screw you' section of this letter, mother' you internally mocked the dead woman.
Your breath hitched.
There... the last sentence of the document, clear as day, stated the following:
With all that has been stated, I leave all of my financial wealth to my blood relative, Y/N, L/N.
And there it is. She still found a way, even in death, to be emotionally detached and abusive with her words.
To think that someone so disgusting was actually real, not to mention the primary source of your childhood trauma.
But she's gone now. Never to be heard or seen again.
And what a joy to the world that was.