66

Chapter 66: Interlude 7-a: Falling Star

Interlude 7.a: Falling Star

For Kayden Russel, there was nothing particularly unusual about taking the bus.

She did it every day, after all. It was how she got to work, how she got to the mall, how she got to the Boardwalk, how she got to the store to buy groceries, and so on. Anytime she went somewhere that wasn't within walking distance, she took the bus to get there. That was how things had to be, when you were trying to raise a child and a car was too much of a luxury to justify. Kayden had gotten used to it.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

After all, the bus stopped at many, many places throughout the city. That was fine when it stayed to the best part of town, where all of the well-to-do people lived, and every face Kayden saw was one she could implicitly trust. When it stayed in places where she only ever had to come face to face with her own people.

Some of those people were even her friends, after a fashion. She could talk to them, laugh with them, complain to them. They were safe. She could smile and relax and didn't have to worry.

It got uncomfortable when she had to go farther out and the bus started to pick up the other kinds of people. The wrong kind. The kind she couldn't trust, that lived in poorer neighborhoods, where so many belonged to a gang. The kind she always worried about, that had her nervously wondering which was a murderer or a rapist and which would try to mug her or kill her or…

Sometimes, it got to be too much, and she had to get away from them. Those people. The dangerous ones.

Asians. Hispanics. Blacks.

Chinks. Spics. Niggers.

Immediately, Kayden grimaced and tried to correct herself. Those were slurs, she told herself. They were offensive, they were bad, they were the sort of thing you shouldn't say to polite company. They were the sort of thing you shouldn't even think.

But it was hard, because she didn't know how else to address them. She'd gotten too used to using words like that, and she'd spent too much time around people who spoke the same way and used those words, too. They came to her too naturally to just remove from her vocabulary that easily.

Sometimes, they even snuck in when she wasn't paying attention, and they'd slip out before she even realized it.

And she hated it. She hated that she had so little control over her own language that she could use words like that without thinking. She hated how they made her feel, like she was dirtying herself by saying and thinking them. She hated the way that they'd become so ingrained into her vocabulary that she'd become a virtual stereotype somewhere along the way.

She hated what Max had turned her into.

Because it was Max who had made her into this kind of person. It was him who had convinced her with honeyed words, fork-tongued speeches, and oh-so-reasonable sounding rationalizations that the ni…that they were a more brutish, violent, and less civilized race. It was him who had made her believe that the…hispanics and the asians were stealing jobs from hardworking whites and peddling drugs to innocent children.

It was made all the harder to shake that when at least some of it was true. Not all of them, probably, maybe, but when Kayden's little list of those dangerous sorts who were actually good seemed so paltry and small, compared to all the asians she saw proudly wearing the ABB's colors, all the hispanics and blacks she saw shooting up in alleyways and on street corners… In the face of that, Max's words seemed all the more true.

And even in death, the specter of his influence still clung to her. A cloying, choking presence in the back of her head that dug steel-nailed fingers into her brain and tried to drag her back down for every inch she clawed forward.

She tried to change, to stop thinking that way, to be a better person, she really did. It was just so hard, and she'd thought that way for so long, and all of her old friends thought that way, too, and sometimes, she couldn't help but believe it would be easier if she didn't try to change, if she just stayed who she was, even if she increasingly found herself hating what she saw in the mirror.

But then, she thought of her Aster, her beautiful baby girl, who would one day grow up to be a beautiful woman and want to bring home a boy to introduce to her mother. To Kayden.

What if that boy is black? Kayden had to wonder. What if the man she falls deeply in love with is black?

Or latino? Or asian? Or any of the other races that the Empire espoused as being lesser and scum?

What would her little girl think, if she brought home someone like that and Kayden hadn't changed, if she brought home someone like that and Kayden couldn't stop herself and said something offensive?

Kayden couldn't bear to imagine what her daughter would think of her. How hurt and angry and betrayed she would feel. How disappointed.

Getting away from the Empire and its toxic beliefs was why she had left Max, after all. She didn't want her baby girl to grow up that way, having to listen to the Empire's poison, being forced and cajoled into their way of thinking and their lifestyles. It made her sick to think of her precious little girl growing up like Theo did, in a world and with people who valued her only as Kaiser's daughter, as Kaiser's heir, of her living with a father whose love came with conditions and could only be earned with strength and powers.

To see what it had done to Theo, how it had ruined the poor boy…

She hated that, and she hated the idea that her own prejudices and biases might one day drive a wedge between them, might build a gap that was impossible to bridge. She hated it and she feared it like only one other thing in her life.

"For Aster," became her mantra, her rallying cry to muster her resolve. Whenever she watched the news and saw the ABB or the Merchants causing trouble, when she caught herself thinking of it as the kind of thing "their kind" did and the trouble that "those people" caused, she stopped and scolded herself, berated herself for it. She told herself it was wrong and she was wrong to think that way.

For Aster.

Because there was nothing Kayden wasn't willing to do for the sake of the sole beacon of light in her life.

Nothing.

Even if it meant forcing herself to change. Even if it meant tearing down her old habits and ways of thinking one word at a time, one sentence at a time, one day at a time. Even if there were times when it seemed too daunting and too impossible and too far out of reach, and all she wanted to do was give up. Even then, she kept going, because that was when it mattered most.

Her little girl was worth it.

And so Kayden endured. She moved forward. She forced herself to take each step, dragging herself towards that ever elusive goal of being a mother that Aster could be proud of, that Aster could love with all her heart, so that even if no one else in the whole world, falling apart as it was, gave her anything, Aster could always trust that her mother would be there for her.

Even when "the next step" might be a giant leap of faith. A risk, wagered against a better future.

"Mind if I sit, dear?" a sudden voice jerked Kayden from her thoughts.

When she blinked and turned to look, the familiar face of an elderly woman smiled down at her.

"Oh," said Kayden, smiling back, "not at all, Mrs. Watson."

She shifted in her seat and made room for Mrs. Watson to sit down.

"Thank you, dear," said the elderly woman as she sank into the seat next to Kayden with a sigh.

A moment later, the bus jerked and started moving, again.

"So," Mrs. Watson said conversationally, "it's been awhile, hasn't it, Mrs. Anders?"

"Russel," Kayden corrected before she could think of it. "It's Kayden Russel, now."

Mrs. Watson gasped.

"Oh! The divorce was finalized?"

"Yes," replied Kayden. "Max was, um, he was in the building when…when that bomb went off at Medhall, and…well…"

"Oh," said Mrs. Watson sympathetically. She offered a consoling pat on Kayden's hand. "It must have been very hard, hearing about that. Just dreadful."

"Yeah…"

It shouldn't have been. She should have been celebrating, when she heard the news, because it meant she was free and she'd never have to hear his honeyed words spoken from that forked, silver tongue ever again, would never again have to worry that he might try and threaten her for custody of Aster, but some part of her had still mourned. Some part of her had still cared. Had still loved him. Had still felt like something important had been ripped away from her, that day.

Damn him. Damn Max for digging his claws in so deep.

It made her hate him even more, that she hadn't gotten over him, even after leaving. And without him around to rage at for what he'd done to her, intentionally or not, she found herself with nowhere to direct her anger except at herself, for being so stupid she still hadn't purged every iota of affection for Max Anders from every part of her.

"Well, without a client to represent," she went on, "his lawyers gave it up and agreed to settle on the last few details, so…"

"Well, at least there's that," agreed Mrs. Watson. "Bloodsuckers, the lot of them. How's poor Theodore handling the news?"

Kayden shrugged.

"I…don't know. He and Max didn't have any kind of close relationship, and he didn't seem too upset about it, really. He…didn't actually react much at all, when he heard the news."

Was he hurting? Kayden didn't know. She tried to at least show him some warmth and took care of all his needs, but he wasn't hers. They didn't have the kind of connection, the emotional bond that she had with Aster. The only reason she'd taken him in was because no one else in the Empire cared, and that left her the only one willing to actually look after him.

"I'm thinking about taking him to see a therapist," she decided, then and there, as the words spilled out of her mouth. "Maybe he'll open up to someone who doesn't have their own baggage with Max?"

"Good for you, dear," Mrs. Watson congratulated her. Kayden gave her a weak smile back. "Is that what you're doing now?"

"Now?"

"Finding a therapist for Theodore to talk to."

"Oh, ah, no, I took the day off, because I have an appointment I needed to go to."

Mrs. Watson's brow creased with worry.

"Oh dear. Nothing bad, I hope?"

Kayden blinked at her, nonplussed.

"Wh — oh! No, no, I'm fine. Just…something I've been putting off for a while."

"Something important, then?"

Kayden smiled, but she wasn't sure it reached her eyes. She was sure some of her nervousness must have been showing through. "Life-changing, maybe," she answered.

Quite literally. A lot of things were riding on what happened, today, and whichever way things went, something big was going to change about her life.

"Oh. Oh my." Mrs. Watson smiled shrewdly. "Thinking you might have another one on the way?"

Kayden's brow furrowed. "Another one?"

"A bun in the oven, dear."

"A bun in the — oh!" Kayden's cheeks grew warm. "No, no, nothing like that! I mean, when would I even… I don't have the time to… With who, even —"

"You'd be surprised," Mrs. Watson said knowingly. "I've known plenty of women who, shall we say, sought the comfort of strangers during a rough divorce. Some who even shacked back up with their husbands while the lawyers were still hashing things out."

Kayden blanched. "You think Max and I… That I would… Really?"

The horrible thing was that she could imagine it happening. If he had caught her at the right moment, and as Max was oh so very good at doing, said the right words to her, she might have taken him back, for the night. Just so that she could have one night where she wasn't lonely, where she didn't feel like she was one woman trying to carve out a place for herself and her daughter in the big, wide world with only a spoon.

She would've hated herself, afterwards, but she could imagine it happening.

"Sometimes, dear, the heart wants what it wants."

Wasn't that the truth?

Kayden shook her head. "No, nothing like that. Just…looking to see if I can get a better job, that's all. I'm going to see if it's something I'm interested in."

"I thought you loved your current job," Mrs. Watson probed.

"I do," said Kayden. "I really do. But trying to raise two kids on my current salary and pay my rent is a bit difficult. I'm hoping this new opportunity will let me have a little more wiggle room in my budget."

It wasn't entirely untrue, but it didn't even come close to her true motivation.

"Well, good luck to you."

Kayden gave her a half-hearted smile. "Thanks."

Mrs. Watson suddenly lit up.

"Oh! Have I told you the good news, yet?"

"Um, good news?"

"I'm going to be a grandmother!"

Kayden's heart skipped a beat. Something nasty curled in her belly and refused to budge.

"You…you are?"

"They just told me about it yesterday! My little Allie, three months pregnant! Can you believe it?"

"That's…that's wonderful!" said Kayden, injecting as much cheer into her voice as she could. If Mrs. Watson noticed that her excitement wasn't quite all real, she didn't show it.

"Isn't it? Oh, in six short months, I'll be a grandmother, and I'll get to bore you to tears talking about my new grandchild."

"Do…do they know what it is, yet?"

"They want to keep it a surprise," said Mrs. Watson, rolling her eyes with a fond but exasperated smile. "It's Johnny who talked her into that, you mark my words."

Johnny. Mrs. Watson's son-in-law.

A ni —

No, Kayden scolded herself, before the thought could fully form. Be better than that. For Aster.

But it was hard. Because her first reaction had been to think, "of course he did," because, "that's the way they work." Deceiving, convincing, lying to make you think they were something they weren't. They lulled you into a false sense of security so that they could take advantage of you.

Those were Purity's thoughts. The Empire's thoughts. The way their members thought and looked at the world. It wasn't the way Kayden was supposed to think. It wasn't how Kayden wanted to look at the world. It wasn't the person she was trying so hard to become.

Mrs. Watson's Johnny made it a little easier to shake. He was successful, a computer technician that many companies — including, on occasion, Medhall itself — had called upon to test their cybersecurity. He made a lot of money working a good, honest, well-paying job, and he was purported to be a wonderful, very caring person.

Mrs. Watson had gone off several times to crow about how proud she was that her Allie had married someone who could take care of her so well.

"Have they thought up any names, yet?" Kayden asked, trying not to let the inner conflict show.

Mrs. Watson snorted. "Knowing Allie, they'll make a huge list, then wait until the last minute to pick one. That girl has never been good with making decisions in advance. Why, if it had been up to her to pop the question, they'd still be dancing around the idea of getting married!"

Kayden smiled and laughed like she was expected to, but her heart wasn't in it.

Mrs. Watson sighed. "Oh, my George would have loved to hear all about this. He was looking forward to being a grandfather."

Safe ground — Kayden was ashamed of the surge of relief that rushed through her chest.

"How is he?"

"Bad," Mrs. Watson told her sadly. "It's been getting worse, recently. He comes and goes, and even when he is there, he isn't all there, you know? The doctors say it won't be long, now. A few weeks, maybe a month or two."

"I'm sorry," Kayden said sympathetically. Mrs. Watson only smiled.

"Oh, dear, there's nothing for you to be sorry about. But thank you." She sighed again, bittersweet. "My George gave me thirty-eight good years. I'm thankful for that, at least."

She shook her head. "But listen to me ramble on about my troubles! What about you, Kayden? Anyone caught your eye, recently?"

Kayden smiled and deflected. "No, of course not! I'm too busy taking care of Aster, when would I have the time…"

For a while, they continued on like that, chatting about lighter, less heavy things, until at last, Mrs. Watson had to go.

"Looks like this is my stop," she said, turning back to Kayden to smile. "It was wonderful talking to you again. Maybe next time it won't be so long?"

"Hopefully," was all Kayden could say.

Mrs. Watson, all of sixty-five and looking every year of it, gave Kayden's hand another pat. "Best of luck to you. Tell Theodore I said hello, and give Aster a kiss for me, would you?"

"I will," she promised.

Then, her conversation partner stood and walked away.

With Mrs. Watson gone, Kayden was left alone, again, with nothing but her thoughts for company. Slowly, around her, the bus emptied and filled, emptied and filled, until finally, the passengers started to trickle out, leaving behind only her and a handful of other people, none of them familiar faces. Fortunately for Kayden's state of mind, she was only going across town, and the route the bus took never went anywhere near the Docks or the Trainyard or Old Town.

No one who got on had skin any darker than a light tan.

Several times, she thought about turning back. Several times, she thought about hopping off and taking another bus back home. Several times, she thought about abandoning the plan she'd come up with — ill-advised as some might say it was — and continuing on with her life as normal.

It was tempting. The closer the bus came to Kayden's ultimate destination, the more turning back and going home sounded like the better idea. It was the easier choice, the one that required less from her. Less risk. Less chance of blowing up in her face. Less her trusting things to work out.

But every time it seemed like she would crumble under that temptation, she took a deep breath, steeled herself, and repeated her mantra.

For Aster.

At last, her stop came up, and Kayden stood and walked woodenly through the aisles, down the steps, and out the door and onto the sidewalk. A moment later, the bus pulled away, and Kayden looked up at the imposing structure of the PRT ENE's headquarters that stood across the street. Only the logo plastered to the front of it truly set it apart from the buildings around it, and yet it felt larger and grander than the ordinary office buildings that flanked it on either side.

For a long moment, she just stood there, staring up at it and fighting with herself. To go in, or not? To go forward, or run away like a scared child?

Running away sounded better, but she hadn't come this far just to chicken out at the finish line.

So, she reached into her purse and pulled out the item she'd gotten for just this occasion, a cheap domino mask that barely hid any of her face, then tied her hair back, hoping that would be enough for this.

No turning back. For Aster.

Then, steeling herself again, she crossed the street, walked up to the front door, and stepped into the lobby of the PRT building.

It turned out to be surprisingly, disappointingly normal.

It was a lot like the lobby of any office building, with a big desk near the far wall, signs labelled with directions and floor numbers for different services, and even color-coded patterns painted onto the floor and walls that had their own destinations attached to a legend on one of the maps. There were halls that stretched deeper into the building, "corporate" photos of the Wards and Protectorate, past and present, and even tastefully done architecture and furniture, like the headquarters of some major, billion-dollar company.

It reminded her of the Medhall building, funnily enough. Both housed capes, even — or had, since Medhall had been destroyed.

Except these ones are the kind that would arrest you and throw you in jail.

Kayden took a deep breath, fixed the cheap domino mask to make sure it was on right, quelled her nerves as best as she was able, and strode up to the front desk as confidently as she could, being all of five-foot-two.

Fuck, it was easier to seem confident and imposing when you were flying and glowing so brightly that no one could see your face to tell exactly how nervous you were.

The person manning the desk — in a stroke of incredible irony, her nameplate said "Sarah Manning" — didn't even bother to look up. "Can I help you?" she asked, sounding bored.

"Yes," Kayden said, and her voice came out braver than she felt. "I'm here to have a meeting with Director Piggot."

The receptionist frowned.

"The Director is currently in conference, regarding an upcoming event," the receptionist recited, only now looking up, "but I can page her to let her know…"

The receptionist stilled, eyes widening as her hand began to drift towards the edge of the desk, where the panic button was undoubtedly hidden. Kayden stayed perfectly still, well aware that there were likely sprayers of containment foam built into the lobby all over the place. She deliberately kept a tight lid on her powers.

"But I can let her know that you're here, if you're willing to wait."

"That's… That's fine," Kayden said. "I'm not in any hurry, right now."

She'd told the babysitter that she was likely to be gone most of the day.

The receptionist hesitated for a moment, and her hand didn't move from where it hovered near the hidden button. Kayden tried not to keep glancing at it, so that the receptionist didn't think she was trying to plan around stopping it from being pressed.

"And who should I tell her wants to meet her?"

"Purity."

The receptionist's face twitched and shut down into a placid, polite expression that Kayden had practiced in the mirror for weeks for talking to her clients. On the inside, she had to be panicking and trying to keep herself from freaking out.

Kayden couldn't blame her. There and then, she was panicking and freaking out and trying not to let it show, too, even though her stomach was twisting itself into knots and her heart was beating so loudly that she was sure everyone in the lobby must have been able to hear it.

God, maybe this was a mistake? She could still turn around, couldn't she? They didn't have her face. They didn't have her name. All they had was some woman claiming to be Purity, so she could still —

No. For Aster.

"And the purpose for your visit…?"

Kayden gathered her fleeing courage and mustered as much confidence as she could.

"I'm here to discuss the terms of my surrender…and joining the Protectorate."

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

Not exactly to canon is this Purity. By Wildbow's reckoning, she's not a very good person. Like, at all. That seems to be Wildbow's default position on people, though, that they're all pretty shitty, selfish to the extreme, and the best they can aspire to is to not be a complete monster.

I prefer my characters to be treated a little more gently, so Purity here is a little softer around the edges - still not a great person, but trying to be a better one for the little girl she's raising. She's still got a ways to go, though.

If you want to support me as a writer so I can pay my bills, I'm on P A treon (p a treon . com (slash) James_D_Fawkes), and if P a treon is too long term, you could buy me a ko-fi (ko-fi . com (slash) jamesdfawkes).

Or if you want to commission something from me, check out my Deviant Art page to see my rates.