Chapter 36: Abigail

"Right. It's go time, Mark. Look sharp 'cause the whole world is watching." Barak announced, everyone standing around; some relaxed, some jittering.

Coughing and pumping himself up mentally, Mark lifted himself out of the seat, the nerves creeping all over him like critters. Following the suited man, who took the lead, they arrived at a door behind the stage.

Jenny inspected him from head to toe, beaming as she finished, "Looking good. Suit looks natural, with a flair of respectability. At least you won't get bullied online for your looks."

He chuckled at the mellow compliment, "Might not look like a model, but god damn, does this suit look good."

Jenny laughed, everyone else checking pads and asking questions to ensure preparations were in place and things ran smoothly.

"Thanks, Jenny." Mark uttered, somewhat sheepishly.

"You'll be fine. Getting there is always the hard part. But once there, it disappears as quickly as it appears."

"Greenlight." Sophie, the press advisor, spoke aloud, "Come, Mark. Make sure you steel yourself before we enter. You can't leave until it's finished."

He took a deep breath, calming himself, his hands slightly shaking. Flexing every finger, he nodded affirmatively at the brunette woman.

A hush descended upon the crowd, the only sound being the door next to the stage opening as the appointed time came. Cameras were readied, pointing solely at the opening entrance as a tall woman in a suitable dress and high heels exited. Her brunette hair was set in a bun as a young adult male accompanied behind. Light snaps were heard as shutters opened and closed within the cameras, photos taken as red lights from the devices blinked at him.

He blushed slightly, the event surreal to him, as nerves skittered away, but embarrassment entered in turn. There were big mounted cameras at the back, likely showing the event live to the whole world. Lightly cringing to himself from staring at the cameras, he sat down along with Sophie.

No one had talked yet, with the only noise being the constant flashes and camera shutters with an indiscernible buzz in the air. Every journalist was rearing to go, their body language obviously giving away their intentions. There were some that were timider, however, as his eyes made them unsettled.

Sophie coughed loudly, readying herself to announce the beginning, "Right, how's everyone doing today? Hope the journey wasn't too taxing for anyone."

Most responded with a mixture of yes' and yeah's as their eyes remained locked upon the seated young man. Not wishing to dally too long, she continued speaking.

"I'm sure everyone is aware of why we called this conference. There has been... widespread news coverage on the issue, relating to a supposed flying humanoid or, as others put it, 'aliens'." Getting a few chuckles from the audience, she carried on, "And thus, that the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland can confirm that the figure reported by 'The Star Bulletin' on the date of Tuesday 5th of December was the young man next to me."

There was a fair amount of mutterings at her statement, some slightly sceptical and dubious, some excited and some nodding to themselves.

"Alongside this, I can confirm that the leaked images earlier in the week of him in a military base are true. Mark here has been with the military since the 2nd of this month. Now, I'm sure you are all wondering what he was doing in Ireland? What happened at the base in Watford this past week?"

Quiet murmurs erupted from the crowd of reporters as they took notes and readied for the juicy details incoming. Sophie silently grunted to herself, preparing to speak the next section.

"On Tuesday 5th, the Watford Military Installation was attacked by an, as of yet, unknown assailant. They came during the night, and as of this moment, the only motive we have is relating to Mark. We presume they wanted to capture him for reasons unknown; however, I'm sure your imagination can do the rest." She paused to stop her mouth from drying, "A battle ensued, in which... Mark fought for our brave soldiers in both self-defence and righteous fury."

Notes were being taken rapidly now, as the reporters were flooded with thoughts and theories to put online. Retaliation can be done through a vast quantity of methods: Lethal, non-lethal, fear and intimidation, and uncaring collateral damage.

"This leads us onto Ireland, the same night – Tuesday 5th – in which Mark followed after the targets. He removed two, with one getting away to pastures uncertain. They did this by unleashing a... monster of gigantic proportions. Unfortunately, the fight was destructive, and the government expresses great grief and condolences to those caught in the crossfire." She took a deep breath before following on, "The footage from 'The Star Bulletin' is almost directly after the fight, no more than 5 minutes at most."

Interrupting her, someone questioned from the crowd, "Why was the ground melted? Is he also responsible for the tragedy at the hospital on the 2nd?"

"If you bear with me, I'll get to that in a moment." Sophie replied.

"So he is responsible!?" Another person shouted indignantly.

As questions started to be spammed at Sophie, the hall became abuzz with reporters talking to themselves and each other.

"Settle down, please." She spoke sternly, quietening the crowd, "...Yes, he is responsible-"

"Why? What possessed him to do such an atrocity!?" A man cried out, almost drowned out by angry shouting and discussion.

"Is he even human? How do we know he won't kill us all?" Another shouted with a fearful tone.

Mark sighed and grimaced as they shouted, their hidden excitement at a scoop and clear indignation at himself causing them to lose all professionalism. He looked towards Sophie, her eyes sharp and brows furrowed as she commanded them to stop, unsuccessfully. The room spent the next few minutes in disorder, the plan not going well, despite every journalist supposedly being vetted and respectable.

Getting progressively more peeved, Sophie unable to explain the happenings of the event, he stood up as they stared, speaking in a slightly commanding tone, "Everyone, quiet yourselves."

Everyone silenced themselves, seemingly to Mark, because of his words, but to most, because of his eyes. They had flared slightly, the orange in his gaze starting to smoke and waft out of his sockets. Sitting down as fear and uncomfortability crept within them, they listened in quiet.

Sophie stared at him as he sat down, leaning into his ear and whispering, "You good, Mark? Good job stopping them, but... let's try not to appear like you're going to laser them all."

He frowned as he looked at her moving away, to continue, as he closed his eyes momentarily.

"As I was saying, yes, he is responsible. He has already taken full accountability for it. However, despite this, there are details that you cannot ignore. This takes place only a few hours after the... unfortunate passing of his immediate family in a gas explosion. The experience awakened him to his... abilities, in which he had no prior knowledge or usage. Then, not even 12 hours later, he finds himself sitting in a hospital bed with trauma most cannot imagine."

The room continued to be hushed, notes being jotted down on tablets and paper, some expressing dismay, concern and other sympathetic emotions. Others seemed unbothered or annoyed, likely finding it nothing more than excuses for a murderer.

"In a mixture of trauma, panic, sorrow and confusion, coupled with a complete lack of knowledge over his newfound gift, he got emotional. Which, regrettably, culminated in the event as has been transcribed by witnesses."

A woman hesitantly spoke out from the crowd, "Are you saying he can produce a laser beam?"

Sophie looked at the woman and responded, "Yes. From what Mark has told us, after extensive testing at the facility, it is controlled mentally. Extreme duress, like what he experienced, is another way to activate it. He will take full accountability for the incident. But, it should be noted that it was not intentional in the slightest. We will have a small demonstration before we take your questions and concerns." She finished as a massive holographic screen appeared before the stage.

She stated a disclaimer before it began to ensure no ridiculous assumptions, "This is the earliest test we conducted, with Mark's consent, of how the beams work. It was conducted in a safe and secure environment, against a high-temperature resistant material."

The video didn't last long, showing the first recording of the beam and an excerpt of him rising in the air. There were short gasps at the beginning, the reporter's eyes gleaming with many emotions, the biggest amongst them; envy. It ended shortly after, the screen disappearing into thin air as Sophie continued speaking.

"If you'd please, Mark." She said as he picked up a half-metre, grey ball of metal, "This is Russophene. It is Graphene, which has been enhanced by nano-technology and metallurgy processes conducted by the Tayi Corporation. It is around 8 times more durable than diamond."

Getting an eyebrow raise as the signal from Sophie, he held it by his fingers in a transparent glass box before applying pressure. It resisted for a time before he clenched it a bit harder. Within seconds, the semi-transparent material had audibly cracked before it broke into numerous pieces. Some fragments stayed in his palm, coming out as dust as he unleashed his grip.

As he sat down, patting his hands together above the box beforehand, he stared at his palms for a moment, impressed once again. Glancing up, Sophie had just finished speaking, announcing the availability for questions to be asked.

"You ready for the influx of questions, Mark?" She quietly whispered to him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, stopping himself as he remembered the advice from the old professor, he replied sarcastically, "I can't wait."

Sophie chuckled before raising her head, glancing round for whom to pick, some with scripted questions, "Emma. Let's start with you."

The woman glanced at her tablet briefly before directing her question, predictably, to Mark, "Hi, Mark. I'm Emma Whitley from 'BBC News'. I was wondering if you have any worries about losing control again. The figures of the deceased from Amity Hospital Centre are currently 139. Is this a concern for the public?"

He was surprised at the question, certainly one that did not cross his mind before they started. Thinking for a moment, he spoke with determined certainty, "No. I'm mindful of my gifts and what they can do. I can say, with confidence, that it is not a concern. If I had known, I would not have looked around, panicked, nor would it last long enough for lasting damage."

'... hopefully, that's good enough. Fuck, I'm really not cut out for this.'

"Hey, Mark." A male greeted before naming himself, "Eric from 'The Public Chronicle'. The public is surely curious about how you gained your... gifts. Do you have any insight?"

"Heh. Good question." He unconsciously answered, reprimanding himself, mentally, afterwards, "Erm, honestly, I'm not certain. One moment I was asleep, and the next, I remember being in the hospital. Without the gas explosion, perhaps I wouldn't have powers. Maybe I just got lucky. Who knows."

The man thanked Mark, jotting down everything he could.

"Alright, how about... James." Sophie communicated, staring at a young man in the back of the room, his hand different from the rest with his pale skin.

His eyes widened slightly after being picked, lightly shaking as he glanced at his phone. Come on, this is your time to shine, he thought, braving himself to ask a risky question.

Ignoring an introduction, he asked, "Regarding the incident at Amity Hospital, did you know that 49 of those deceased were children? 31 of those were under the age of 5. Did you purposefully look in that direction? Or was it accidental?"

"What a stupid question." Mark muttered under his breath, "I... was informed of that at a later date. I find it... distasteful that you would suggest I did it voluntarily. I vividly remember the confusion, and in that mindset, I stared at the doctors, who I hoped to get answers from. Unfortunately..." He finished, finding it as distasteful to continue as the gentleman's query.

"I see. Thank you." He replied, writing notes as he dismissed Sophie's annoyed gaze before she picked another, a female wearing glasses, a sharp look in her eyes.

"Good afternoon, Mark. Name's Abigail from the Irish newspaper, 'The Star Bulletin'." The woman said in a thick accent, getting a lot of surprised gazes and mutterings as she voiced it, Mark unperturbed at the commotion.

Sophie slightly leaned towards him and whispered, "She's the one who got the live footage in Ireland. One of the main people the public has been watching. Be careful."

Mark raised his eyebrows at her words before looking back to the woman who patiently waited to ask what she wanted. Sophie gestured for Abigail to continue, the room falling silent, once again, besides the endless clicks of shutters.

"I have a few questions I'd like to ask." She said, before rapidly interjecting, "If you'd allow me. They link together, don't worry."

Feeling nothing wrong with it, he shrugged as Sophie gestured for it to be up to him, "Sure."

Same as the others, she glanced at her notes for a few seconds before raising her voice, "In your family who... sadly passed away in the gas explosion, one was named Amelia, correct?"

Mark frowned heavily here, an unsettling emotion of concern approaching him, "... yes..."

She smiled at him, staring into his eyes fearlessly, "And I presume, you know, she came from a rich family. Specifically, the Montjoy family who own the business company Montjoy PLC."

He rubbed his neck nervously, unsure of where this line of questioning was going, but spoke anyway, trying to portray calm, "I... knew she was well-off, but not rich. Said she'd got it from inheritance. I have only met her family a few times in my life, and I had no knowledge they owned a company."

Sophie had cottoned on to Mark's unease, her expression being slightly concerned but listened on, not wishing for a public scene.

"Hmm, I see. In that case, I also presume you have met your... step-grandmother? A woman by the name of Freya Montjoy?"

'Oh shit.'

His eyes widened slightly, almost unnoticeable, the colour of his eyes hiding the shaking of his pupils. Abigail stared defiantly into his eyes, without concern or fear, a smile like a shark on her face as she awaited his answer.

"I- I do know of her." He said as he added a bit extra, to hopefully lessen any concern of what is to come, "We... don't get along, to say the least. Bit of a religious nut job." He chuckled.

Seated next to him, Sophie was beginning to panic as Mark's knee jumped up and down nervously. She knew something was coming up, something damning they might not have thought of, but she could do nothing about it without screwing the entire conference. But perhaps, it was worth it? However, she could lose her job if it isn't the correct choice. Thus, she left it in the arms of Mark to answer and salvage the situation.

"Ok. I hear, from inside sources at your family's funeral a few days ago, that you got into an altercation with Mrs Freya. Is this true?" Abigail asked, her questioning almost to a close as she reeled Mark in.

"An altercation is not what I would say. Maybe, like, erm, a shouting match. Or rather, she shouted at me. Blamed me for my stepmother's passing. I believe she was escorted out."

"Mhm, so there was nothing physical, but there was definitely something? Well, only yesterday, and from your word choice, I regret to inform you of her passing." She stated as she paused.

'... Fuck.' He whispered in his mind.

"The investigation, so far, has concluded that she was pushed, her neck... well, hitting the steps of her door. Clearly, she had opened it to answer someone, and said person pushed her with force."

Gritting his teeth, Mark uttered almost passively, "What are you implying?"

"Nothing at all. Coincidences happen, after all. It's just a very... unfortunate coincidence, considering the timing. I'm sure they'll find the one responsible eventually. They have fingerprints, after all..."