I sat down on the ground in front of the crowd, still holding half a burger, preparing myself for the barrage of questions. This press conference wasn't something I was particularly thrilled about, but it was necessary. People needed to hear my side of the story—my experience in that cave, how I was forced to see firsthand the destruction Stark Industries' weapons were causing.
As I expected, the reporters were quick to jump in.
"Mr. Stark," one of them called out. "I don't know if you've read a comic called *Iron Man*, but everything you've said so far matches up with scenes from that comic. What's your take on that?"
Without missing a beat, I leaned back and took another bite of my burger. "I was sitting on a plane when I read it."
There were a few awkward coughs, clearly, my humor wasn't landing the way I'd hoped.
"I did read the comic," I admitted, putting them out of their misery. "After I was rescued. And yeah, I don't know how to explain it either. The scenes in the comic… they're pretty much exactly what happened to me."
That shut them up. You could see the shock spread through the crowd. I had just confirmed it. The comic—the one this mysterious artist had published—was spot-on. Could this really be some kind of prophecy?
One reporter wasn't about to let that go. "I interviewed the comic's author, and according to him, he has some kind of ability to predict the future. He even claimed that he warned you ahead of time. Is that true?"
I nodded. "He did warn me, yeah. But, to be honest, I didn't believe him at first. I'm still skeptical about all this 'prediction' stuff. It goes against everything I know about science."
At that moment, I noticed one of the reporters, Angus, visibly relax. He had been looking pretty tense since I'd started talking. I vaguely remembered hearing something about him betting against the whole prophecy thing.
Angus suddenly stood up, clearly unable to contain himself. "Mr. Stark, is it true that this guy, the one who made the comic, accurately predicted where you'd be found?"
I took a deep breath, recalling the conversation I'd had with Rhodey on the flight back. "As insane as it sounds, yeah. The military did use the coordinates from the comic to locate me. I wasn't thrilled about it at first—felt like they were betting my life on a comic strip. But it worked. They found me."
Angus' face went pale, then red, then some odd shade in between. He looked like a man whose world had just been turned upside down. And maybe it had.
Suddenly, he blurted out, almost shouting, "No way! There's no way this is real! You must be in on this with the artist—this is all some elaborate scam, isn't it?"
You could've heard a pin drop. For a split second, I was just as surprised as everyone else in the room. But then, my patience snapped.
"Are you kidding me?" I shot back, my voice hardening. "You think I'd work with a comic book artist to pull off some kind of ridiculous scam? I think you should get your head checked out. Is your IQ hiding in the Mariana Trench? And you call yourself a reporter? People like you are doing more harm than good."
The room erupted into laughter. The other reporters were shaking their heads, smirking at Angus' absurd accusation. It was clear who they were siding with.
Meanwhile, in the back of the room, I caught a glimpse of Obadiah. He wasn't laughing. In fact, he looked downright uneasy. I could see the gears turning in his head. He was thinking about the comic too, wasn't he? Wondering how much of it was real, and more importantly, how much of it he could use to his advantage.
*Damn it*, I thought. *That comic really is drawing the truth.*
Obadiah shifted in his seat, clearly agitated. I could only imagine what was going through his head. If this artist really could predict the future, then what else did he know? Did he know about Obadiah's shady dealings, about his involvement in my kidnapping? If he did… well, Obadiah wasn't the type to let something like that go unchecked.
I watched as Obadiah's jaw clenched. He wanted to get to that comic artist, no doubt about it. But he couldn't make a move yet, not with the press conference still underway. He'd have to wait, just like the rest of us.
As for me, I didn't have any more answers than I had before. But I knew one thing: this whole mess was far from over.