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All-day long meetings to attend, paperwork to fill out signatures to forge and commentary to give to the press. The public needed to know, whatever, whatever. Yes, bodies had been found in the rubble, who's were they? Pepper knew the truth, they were minions and hunters both. But the truth and what history would record as the truth were again, two different things.
Pepper's unsmiling face and precise, well thought out responses kept the press conference in order, kept most reporters in line. The ones found in the rubble with guns and crossbows? Terrorists of course, terrorists and their own well trained and dearly missed security force. Terrorists plotting to destroy the American way of Life and Liberty, and yes that Pursuit of Happiness part too. They blew up the building, because they didn't want America and American Businessmen to succeed. Yes, Mr Frost himself had died in the blast, trying to protect his men and his building." And that was the end of that press conference.
But to the investigators, she had to give answers to a few more questions. "Yes, before he died he had given her all powers of attorney, signed and sealed, and notarized. Yes the attorneys would state that, in a court of law. Yes, Pepper now had controlling vote of the Frost Industry holdings. No, the company was not planning to rebuild the tower. Yes, they were going to finish dismantling it. No, she wasn't sure what would go in it's spot, but it was a certain bet that Frost Industries would not let terrorists win out over American Ingenuity and determination. Yes, of course the building was insured."
And as to the question of whether she was Frost's lover, she simply answered with a terse 'no comment'.
Finally the press of people were gone, at last she was left alone. Pepper took a long, slow around the penthouse suite in Manhattan that she'd rented with her lover. Too many memories, too many ghosts crowded the room she sat in, the apartment she slept in. Step by heel-clad step Pepper forced herself down the hall and leaned against the doorway of their bedroom, staring at the huge bed they'd shared. That bed she'd hated once upon a time, now she caressed it's silvery top. Lightly her fingers swept down the rolled metal sides and onto the mattress, feeling the coolness of the slick satin sheets. They'd made love on those sheets. Deacon had slept there on that side, holding her close, with his head lying on her hair. They'd laughed there, and hugged there. They'd cuddled together talking of their plans, dreams for the future together. He'd woken her from her nightmares there, soothed her fears, and had put her to sleep, spent and gasping from the passion they'd shared. Deacon's pillow had been pushed off onto the floor near the bed. Slowly Pepper bent, reaching to replace it back up where it belonged.
Instead the small brunette sat on the edge of the bed-frame and lifted the pillow to her face, breathing in the faint smell of the Vamp God's shampoo and aftershave. Breathing in the scent, the memory of Deacon as she curled herself around the pillow with her head bent low. And that's where she stayed as the sun sank low, and finally set over the horizon.
Later, she dried her face as she stepped out of the shower. Using a hand to wipe the fog off the mirror, she stared hard at her reflection. Dark and haunted eyes stared back. "I can't stay here" she whispered. I can't, I just can't do this anymore."
Minutes later she was dressed, back into blue jeans and jacket, her boots light on the carpet. Pepper didn't call for a taxi, she didn't contact her chauffeur. Instead she simply took the elevator to the ground floor and walked out into the night.
Pepper's unsmiling face and precise, well thought out responses kept the press conference in order, kept most reporters in line. The ones found in the rubble with guns and crossbows? Terrorists of course, terrorists and their own well trained and dearly missed security force. Terrorists plotting to destroy the American way of Life and Liberty, and yes that Pursuit of Happiness part too. They blew up the building, because they didn't want America and American Businessmen to succeed. Yes, Mr Frost himself had died in the blast, trying to protect his men and his building." And that was the end of that press conference.
But to the investigators, she had to give answers to a few more questions. "Yes, before he died he had given her all powers of attorney, signed and sealed, and notarized. Yes the attorneys would state that, in a court of law. Yes, Pepper now had controlling vote of the Frost Industry holdings. No, the company was not planning to rebuild the tower. Yes, they were going to finish dismantling it. No, she wasn't sure what would go in it's spot, but it was a certain bet that Frost Industries would not let terrorists win out over American Ingenuity and determination. Yes, of course the building was insured."
And as to the question of whether she was Frost's lover, she simply answered with a terse 'no comment'.
Finally the press of people were gone, at last she was left alone. Pepper took a long, slow around the penthouse suite in Manhattan that she'd rented with her lover. Too many memories, too many ghosts crowded the room she sat in, the apartment she slept in. Step by heel-clad step Pepper forced herself down the hall and leaned against the doorway of their bedroom, staring at the huge bed they'd shared. That bed she'd hated once upon a time, now she caressed it's silvery top. Lightly her fingers swept down the rolled metal sides and onto the mattress, feeling the coolness of the slick satin sheets. They'd made love on those sheets. Deacon had slept there on that side, holding her close, with his head lying on her hair. They'd laughed there, and hugged there. They'd cuddled together talking of their plans, dreams for the future together. He'd woken her from her nightmares there, soothed her fears, and had put her to sleep, spent and gasping from the passion they'd shared. Deacon's pillow had been pushed off onto the floor near the bed. Slowly Pepper bent, reaching to replace it back up where it belonged.
Instead the small brunette sat on the edge of the bed-frame and lifted the pillow to her face, breathing in the faint smell of the Vamp God's shampoo and aftershave. Breathing in the scent, the memory of Deacon as she curled herself around the pillow with her head bent low. And that's where she stayed as the sun sank low, and finally set over the horizon.
Later, she dried her face as she stepped out of the shower. Using a hand to wipe the fog off the mirror, she stared hard at her reflection. Dark and haunted eyes stared back. "I can't stay here" she whispered. I can't, I just can't do this anymore."
Minutes later she was dressed, back into blue jeans and jacket, her boots light on the carpet. Pepper didn't call for a taxi, she didn't contact her chauffeur. Instead she simply took the elevator to the ground floor and walked out into the night.
