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Funerals of the Rich and Famous

Chapter 4: Thea Queen is Born

Notes:

So, I realise this might not be what some people signed up for but just go with me on this. I figured one funeral after the other was kind of intense and got a little boring after a while if I was doing it for the WHOLE story, and I wanted to add in little events like this as sort of time markers? To help line the story up and sort of mark the progression of this massive timeline. Does that make sense?

Either way, each funeral section will be broken up with a few interim chapters like this as a bit of a respite.

Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Chapter Text

 

22nd of January 1995

 

THE STARLING CITY STAR

 

QUEENS WELCOME NEW DAUGHTER

Congratulations!

 

     Wealthy business mogul Robert Queen has announced he’s no longer a father of one! As of the 21st of January 1995, a healthy baby girl has joined the family. A representative of the Queens reported as such late yesterday evening, and added that both mother and child were resting in ‘perfect condition’ in the private wing of Starling General where they are expected to leave later today.

     Robert, 37, and wife Moira, 31, also have a son together, 10 year old Oliver, who when asked was delighted to divulge his excitement over becoming a big brother, outside Starling general on the way to meet said little sister.

     However, there is confusion as to whether this is the second addition to the family or the third. Those keenly tuned in to society scandals will remember the Queen family tumbling into the limelight two years ago, when it appeared they had adopted the now 10 year old Thomas Merlyn. A spokesman for the family was quick to dampen these rumours, assuring that the affectionately nicknamed Tommy was only spending time with the family while his recently widowed father gathered his affairs. Right. Two years down the line and there is still no sign of the boy returning to his rarely sighted father, Malcolm Merlyn. Arguments could be made that the man is missing.

     Plenty are thus considering the first Queen daughter to be the third child of the family. On the other hand, spiteful economists and businessmen came crawling out of the woodwork in reams to dispute this and point out that Tommy Merlyn is not a Queen by blood therefore not a part of the family. They are more concerned about the possible ‘complications’ they predict with the children of two competing corporations being raised as brothers, instead of slipping back into their humanity and thinking about what is best for two ten year old boys. Shameful too, to think that the disgusting vitriol of ‘only blood can be family’ is still being perpetuated.

     Rumours of mergers have been circling for years, even before the two children were born, effectively nulling the arguments of these naysayers. If both separate entities have withstood merging for this long under decades of friendship, it’s ridiculous to think a pair of ten year olds playing together could change that.

     Those associated with both the Queen and Merlyn families have been reluctant to comment on this at all. Many are expecting that when mother and child eventually leave the hospital, they’ll be ushered out quietly through a rear exit to avoid similar lines of questioning from the journalists and reporters amassed outside.

     Whether you align yourself with those scrutinising the Queens raising the heir to a competing company, or with those believing in acts of unmotivated kindness, we can all agree it will soon fall to the wayside. Nothing rallies the hearts of a city like an adorable new baby! Queen Consolidated and the Merlyn Global Group alike better watch out... There’s a new Queen on the block, and she’s sure to cause a commotion!

By Vicki Vale 

 

 

“What the fuck is this, Vicki, I asked for a fluff piece. I can’t put this on the front page!”

Cliff threw the neat plastic wallet with its hand typed article across his desk and went back to scrawling notes in his heavy fountain pen. Probably brutalising someone else’s article. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his tie was loosened around his wide neck, and she glared at the coffee stain on the desk next to his elbow with lethal intensity. If suddenly that spot exploded into fire, it would take the fat bastard down with it.

“Cliff please,” She implored a little undignified even to her own ears, “Everyones covering the Queen baby, this is a new angle!”

“People are bored of billionaire drama. Nobody cares about businessmen shipping their kids off, a bit of respite first then you can dive straight back in to your back-page-outrage filler. And this is the last time I’m telling you, if you keep on insulting our readers by calling them, what was it ‘spiteful’ then you won’t get to write at all. You’re supposed to be reporting the news, not reporting your opinions of the news, this is not your own personal blog.”

He completely ignored the hot red flush rising over her face, and went back to chewing on his cigarette and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

She picked up her article in its neat plastic folder and waved it under his fat chin. “This is a fresh take, a different direction, isn’t that what good journalism needs?”

Cliff plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed it at her with a warning look in his eye. “Good journalism does what it’s told. Go now, and maybe you’ll still have a job by the time you get back to your desk.”

She tried her best to storm out with dignity, but it probably looked like a flounce to everyone else. One day she would glare so hard, his entire office would combust. Until then, she would rewrite her article and daydream about keying his car.

God, she needed to get out of this place. She’d been toying with the idea for a while, just packing up a few boxes in the middle of the night and leaving everything behind to chase the real stories. They were out there, she just had to find them. She didn’t want to write about babies anymore than she wanted to write about dull businessmen, she wanted to write something with thrill. Something with danger. All she needed was the right muse, some place with grit and edge and just the right amount of darkness.

All she needed was the right city.