𝘐𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴
𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯
Very slow updates
[detailed synopsis is given on the first page]
•covers the events from the 𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡𝗞𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧
tv series & bits...
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A conference room. More than a hundred reporters gathered to get an official statement of what went down the previous night. It was all a blur really. One moment the night city had its normality of everyday light, and the next moment a total and utter blackout for almost an hour. It's not that the city wasn't used to blackouts, it just wasn't used to the idea of two armored bodily flighted suits fighting mid-air or the fact that the eminent arc reactor fried overnight.
The murmurs continued, but there was one woman who seemed a tad bit more impatient and restless than the others. She huffed out a deep breath, her discomfort being shown in the way her chilled fingertips were pulling on the side of her pitch-white shirt sleeve. Her blues flickered throughout the room's entirety, hoping that it would ease her in any way, but unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side. So, she just sat, like the many others in the room, and waited for the real deal—all the while ignoring a certain colonel, like the said others in the room.
She gulped in an uneased manner, before folding her right leg over her tapping left one, which only led her greyed skirt to crinkle a bit. The white of her shirt and grey of her skirt only complimented her strawberry blonde hair and olive skin more prominently; The woman was rather unprepared for the day. It had all happened so fast. A few hours ago, she had taken a much-needed break from her hectic workload, and the next moment she was searching for the appropriate outfit to take an interview of a guy who didn't only respect his own, but others' time too. The last-minute tape-recorded which she had snatched from the confines of her messy table, was now the woman's free drum set, as she kept tapping on it rhythmically every five seconds to pass the time and to also enjoy the clicking sound her nails made with the almost worn out outer-black coating of the device, causing it to show its true grey color.
The colonel seemed to have realized the lack of attention his audience was giving. So instead he just cleared his throat, before sighing in a breath and restarting his sentence, "And now, Mr. Stark has prepared a statement."
As if on cue, the said Mr. Stark neared the podium, which seemed to enthuse the reporters and cameramen a bit, as the murmurs only got louder and the clicking of cameras more frequent. "He will not be taking any questions, thank you."
The blonde woman slunk back to her chair as she forwarded her recorder. A slightly amused look crinkled her eyebrows as she slowly tilted her head to the side. Cannot helping her wildly observatory eagle eyes, she seemed to have noticed a huge blotch of makeup smeared on the top of his nose, and if you squint you could even notice a badly covered black eye and a slight limp of the leg.
"Uh..." the billionaire started as he looked at the crowd, "Thank you. Been a while since I was in front of you. I figure I'll stick to the cards this time."
A dry chuckle vibrated from the back of the blonde's throat, and many others at the statement.
Clearing his throat, the man continued, "There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop" his thumb rubbed the side of his mouth as he continued, "so—"
