1964-01-28 - Stark: The Great and Powerful
Summary: Betty scores and impromptu interview with Howard Stark, Jr.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
howard elizabeth 


A cold frost blows through the air on another quiet day in the city that never sleeps. Cars roll by down the street of this high end Manhattan street blocked bumper to bumper from the sheer gridlock of rush hour. People curse and swear their way along trying to make the evening go just that bit faster, important businessmen chatter away on their car phones, and yet it's still rather quiet. The streets are clogged with people moving back and fourth along their way traveling who knows where for all their own little missions.

Yet in the midst of it all nestled between the tall skyscrapers and other immense structures is one building that stands out for a different reason. A four story mansion decked out in finely inlaid brickwork and molding, designed in the height of Art Deco, stretching out the length of a city block. That style ebbs and flows from every facet of the juggernaut of a structure even as it looms over the walkways. A network of hundreds of rooms, and hallways wind throughout the inside, a large well cared for garden surrounding the property with gargantuan fence protecting it from the world beyond its walls. Along the top of the wall sharp wrought iron spikes keep out trespassers an intimidating brickwork island.

Atop the massive metal gate runs a carved metal set of words "Mens agitat molem" wrought out in elegant caligraphy. From the gate a carved out stone pathway winds up and along towards the front steps of this elegant building circling round a massive statue at the gardens center. A lone statue of Nicolai Tesla holding high a metal representation of an atom.

Trees, and vibrant flowers line the interior of the fence, hand carved iconic imagery is etched into seemingly every surface. Depicted are scenes of invention, and progress through history, and the most iconic of moments of America's own history. At the end of the pathway is a landing covered over by a small roof providing shade from the outside world. To the left hand side of the door is a small box with a shutter over it open to reveal a small black and white television monitor by the look. Scattered about the garden are small metal boxes with camera lenses watching over everything. One such device hangs right above the small black and white monitor.

*

This place was something special. Brant had lived in New York for over a decade now, but it still held wonders, and even more so as super beings and pioneers, masters of industry, continued to advance its surroundings. What was she even doing here? Right, she had asked to meet with Howard, the Howard, Stark, on behalf of the Bugle.

Most higher ups wouldn't touch the publication these days. It had turned from 'real news' to a 'rag', something that just yelled to yelled, with brazen opinions and little evidence to support them. Yet, here she stands, striding down the inner courtyard, inch by inch, eyes wide and mouth curling in a smile.

Her fingers, gloved and protected from the cold, reach out and caress over each blooming flower, seeming to defy nature just by being present. Remembering where she is, why she's there, she clears her throat and moves up to the small screen and intercomm, fingers wiggling in hesitation. Finally, she presses the button and waits for an answer.

She's dressed well enough; probably a nice dress under her winter coat that stretches down to the tops of her knees. Nylons, and navy pumps, gloves, a purse hanging off the crook of her arm, hair neatly curled and set in place, and face painted up to perfection.

*

Despite the frost most the plants seem warm to the touch, a strange marvel of science allowing them to keep in an almost perpetual fresh bloom. The grass that peaks out from between the cracks of the stone walkway crunches silently beneath the shoes just the start of spring coming closer by the moment. The honks of horns and screams of obscenities drift further away into the background leaving behind the babbling of the water.

The small box with its camera lens follows Brant as she moves closer following her movement. The lens rotates around refocusing onto her as she pushes down on the button beside the door. The screen hums softly as it flickers to life showing out that bright grey glow as an older gentleman's face, a butler, becomes visible. The image is somewhat grainy, but surprisingly detailed for being on such a small screen. When he speaks his voice comes out of the intercom crackling fourth through the analogue speaker. "Ah yes, Ms.Elizabeth Brant, from the Bugle I presume?" A light pause. "We've been expecting you." He gives a warm and friendly smile.

*

Elizabeth beams. She gives a soft, giddy giggle as she leans down toward the screen, looking as if she were Alice and this was, indeed, Wonderland. "Would you look at that! Um, hello!" She waves her hand, perhaps not to the correct camera, but she's trying. "Yes! I'm Ms. Brant, Betty, please. Thank you for allowing me to visit. Is Mr. Stark available for our meeting?"

*

"Mr.Stark is just finishing up work on a project at the moment, however he will be along shortly." The face explains in a friendly tone of voice. "I've sent someone along to get the door for you, they'll be guiding you to the room where you two can discuss matters." Another smile, and a nod of the head before the door swings open.

A soft swing of the brightly stained mahogany door reveals the grand entrance hall of the mansion. All of the lovingly crafted wood, and old work design mixed in with art deco to form a strange one of a kind beauty with everything in sight seemingly built by hand. The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air from the nearby kitchen giving the whole place that welcoming vibe one might be hoping for. A large rug spans across the hardwood floor with the Stark family crest. Standing behind the door is a member of the houses staff, dressed in a rather simple suit and tie.

*

"Thank you." The door opens. Jumping, she presses a hand to the flat of her chest as another bubbly noise exits her lips. "This place is so crazy." Her fingers wiggle toward the screen as she steps forward and finally enters the home. "Evening. Pleased to meet you. My name's Betty." Hand out, ready to shake the hand of the house staff, she greets him with a bright smile, her eyes meeting theirs before skipping about and drinking in all that the house has to offer.

Childlike is the wonder on her face, the smile never leaving, and then the smell hits her. "Oh, my, that smells amazing." Few things in the world could trump the aroma of freshly baking, well, anything, especially bread. Digging into her side bag, she pulls out a small notepad, and after yanking the cap off of a pen with her teeth, she begins to scribble a note, or five, as they walk along.

*

He returns the handshake, though for the most part remains fairly quiet. Taking a moment he reaches back over to close the door behind her and lead the way. "A pleasure Betty, I'm Bob." His black hair looks to have at least attempted to be placed down but there's one or two hairs on his head that have gone wild, escaped from the pom aid that's been lathered on thick to try and keep it respectable.

Bob leads Betty through the halls of the mansion passing by many a locked door, and beautiful works of art covering the walls mixed in with the ocasional photograph of one of Howards adventures. One or two family pictures seem to be sparsely mixed in as well.

Their walk leads past the kitchen where staff seem busy at work prepping food for the day. For a place so large they seem a bit… understaffed, with only one chef, and a butler helping him. Yet they continue along before coming to a simple door, on the other side a study.

The walls are made from various exotic woods arranged into subtle works of art to line the room a dull orange look to everything with a bright tan carpet covering the floor. On one wall is a frosted window with hatched wood across it bringing in a bright light a set of olive drab chairs are arranged around a snake-wood table its surface carved to depict the building of the American rail system. On the far wall an ornately carved table with images of various trains and faces presumably of those to due to the train industry.

*

Elizabeth notes as they move along. Scribbling down thoughts as they pass through her mind, and soon enough, she glances up once more and notices that they've stopped. Her eyes move around the room, more details sink into the young woman's mind and memory as she smiles back toward Bob, her cheeks pink from the lingering chill outside, and rounding with her expression. "Thank you very much, Bob. Oh, if I may?"

Slipping the notepad away, she reaches up and ever so gently pushes down that cow-lick of hair back down. "There. Perfect." Winking, she turns away from the staffer and paces around the table, reading names and studying details along the way.

*

Bob blushes slightly as his hair is matted back down and for a good thirty seconds it seems to stay proper. Then those same hairs spring right back up out of place like clockwork. "If you need anything at all simple ring the bell and we'll have someone right over to assist you." A light smile as he gives a bit of a nod. "Mr.Stark should be along shortly." Before bob starts to head back towards the door of the room.

Thomas Savery, James Watt, there's a who's who of important figures of the rail industry carved along the surface of the table, along with images of the trains of the times. It looks to have all the major players up to the 1940's accounted for. And setting along the table to the far end of the room are a number of physical scale models of the trains depicted on the table. They've been built with painstaking attention to detail.

*

Elizabeth covers her lips, blocking a small laugh as it passes due to those stubborn locks. She could relate, but that wasn't a conversation to be had for now. "Oh, right! Thank you." A ring away? This, all of this, was not something she was use to. Now left on her own, she keeps her eyes down, looking over the craftmanship in the room, her gloved fingers brushing over dips and curves in the carvings. "The mind moves matter, indeed." She murmurs, pulling out that notepad again, taking a few more memos for a later time.

*

One last nod of understanding is given before Bob leaves closing the door behind himself. The room itself left quiet and calm. In the far distance soft music can be heard through the room above. Classical by the sounds playing softly and quietly. Each of these carvings is done of course by hand but the interesting thing one might find is that rather then dyeing the wood different colors to work for shading it seems to be multiple types of wood glued together prior to carving in order to work as the shading.

Yet as hand rolls across engraving the nose of one of the figures seems to depress. There's a light click as it slides down into place, and part of the wall cracks open, silently sliding back and off to the side gliding along tracks to reveal what seems to be a hallway built into the walls themselves. The floor of this hall between rooms is fully carpeted the walls and ceiling seem to be lined with lead of all things. A deep series of grays and browns hidden behind with small lights coming through from view ports built into the walls themselves.

*

"Oh!" She jumps at first, after feeling her finger slip down, thinking she broke something. The sounds, however, turn her attentions upward. She didn't break anything, thankfully, but she did seem to 'break' into something. Her lips form a soft 'o' shape, and those stormy eyes glance about, waiting for someone to find her, see what she did, berate her maybe? Yet, there's nothing, and nibbling against her lower lip, she smiles impishly and tip-toes toward the newly formed passage.

She peeks in, blinking and trying to find something inside, but this is only the start of the rabbit hole, as it were. Brushing down her jacket, she clears her throat and shrugs. "Don't be stupid, Brant. Don't be stupid." She tells herself, walking away from the door before turning back and making a light jog back, slipping through. "Stupid often leads to fun."

*

The door remains open for sometime but as she steps into the hall it slowly closes behind leaving complete darkness save for small beams of light coming through small port holes along the corridor. Footsteps are almost completely muffled by the carpeting lining the hallway leaving not a sound save for breathing of Elizabeth herself.

On the other side of the viewing holes are mostly empty rooms, some seemingly left untouched for decades. Each room she passes seems to be a time capsule of sorts, some hobby picked up by Howard, obsessed over for years then abandoned to one of these many rooms. Rooms for bowling, for carving, miniatures, skydiving. One room houses an entire miniature railroad of New York city in the 50's complete with little lights which flash on and on.

*

Brant jumps, feeling that 'secure' feeling of being shut in. She turns, pressing her hand to where the door should be, but where it has returned back into a wall. "Huh." She sounds and takes in a deep breath, sighing out smoothly. "Ok, Betty. Don't worry. You'll be fine." She assures herself and turns back down the corridor, slowly starting to move once more. Each window catches her attention. She glances inward, studying the examples of a man with too much mind and money for any given person. From window to window, she moves, smiling as she looks in; the complete set up of the railway gives her pause.

The lights that flash on and off, still feeding off some power and functioning. "I swear, if I find someone behind a curtain at the end of this, telling me he's 'great and powerful', I'm going to believe it." Onward she moves, humming to herself now, careful with her steps in the dark. "-There's a garden spot, I'm told, where it's never too hot and it's never too cold. Where you're never too young and you're never too old, where you're never too thin or tall. And you're never, never, never too, too, too anything at all, Oh!"

*

Behind other windows wait entire movie sets left behind from seemingly as far back as the 20's. This whole passageway winding on and on as it goes deeper down. Yet soon the windows stop entirely, and she's left with a dull glow at the end of the hall and darkness all around. A low level of fog covers the floor coming out from that opening at the end of the hallway the dull yellow glow of a bulb.

*

Elizabeth comes to a halt. The 'showcase' is over, and the rolling air brushes across the tops of her feet, sinking through the woven pattern of her nylons and chilling her flesh. Shivering, she drinks in another pensive breath. Her fingers twitch, idly curling before she closes her eyes, tight, and steps forward.

*

Lights shine down from every angle as she passes through that door into a room filled with fog. A looming figure stands tall in the air shrouded in smoke. It turns slowly to face her. "Who dares descend to my layer?" It starts in an intimidating voice booming off the walls. "Do you kn-" There is a flicker of sparks, the lights die down rather suddenly slight ambiance cut silent in an instant.

There's silence for a moment, the big figure slumps over towards the ground seemingly deflating. A low sigh breaks the silence. "Great, well there goes that." The voice of Howard stark. "Can you head back up the secret passageway again? I'm pretty sure I can figure out what went wrong there."

*

She jinxed herself. There it was, some great and powerful being looming over her. The air is thick here, still rolling over her feet, swallowing them up to her ankles and driving a chill up her spine. Then, it stops. Originally, she was wide-eyed, now her brow quirks and she blinks. The being slumps and then a voice, more human than ethereal.

Her head turns toward its source. Giggling, she laughs and then clears her throat. "Oh! Sure, I can do that." Eager to please, the woman turns and heads toward the doorway. "Suggestion? Try some color on the smoke? That might be a good touch. Something red. That's a power color."

*

"You know that's not a terrible idea." Howard calls back peaking up from a small box behind what now more clearly seems to be a rather large inflatable gorilla which has been positioned atop a small spinning, and now smoking plate. The smell of burnt wires fills the air. "Throw some red lights in the corners, turn up the ambient music a bit." A spanner flicked round the hand once before being dropped and hitting the ground. "You think red lights in its eyes would be a bit too much?" Asked genuinely as he pulls himself up and out of that little under-bit dressed in a leather apron and welding goggles. "Been working on it all morning."

*

Elizabeth stalls by the door and turns once more. She faces Howard, as best she can, but as the questions come her way, she considers them in earnest. One arm under her chest, it wraps its fingers around the bend of her other arm, that's up and lightly tapping its fingers against her lips. "Hmm. I don't think so. Keep them dark at first, though. Only light them up after some type of pointed moment. Give it some 'umph'. Maybe on the 'dare' line? How /dare/ with red eyes? Very spook-house." Grinning, she nervously clears her throat and steps closer, arms down, and one out to greet him.

"Apologies for disturbing your work, Mr. Stark. I should have waited in the train room, but, well…road less travelled and all that. Sorry about spotting your, um…gorilla."

*

Howard snaps his fingers through those gloves of his, not exactly an easy task, but after the snap he points. "Now that's not a half bad idea." Taking a brief pause he flicks a switch causing fans to activate in order to help vent away some of the smoke and that burning smell.

Lights flicker to life one after another in the room revealing the rather simple set up he has. Smoke is still flutters out from the room, showing the rather nicely tiled floor, and navy blue walls of the sub-basement. This room seems to be some sort of main entrance way to the sub basement with the gorilla positioned in such a way that it can turn to face any of the nearby darkened halls.

"Nothing to worry about." Howard pulls off a glove, before reaching out his hand. "I'm used to reporters stumbling around for their own investigations." His expression is somewhat stoic and serious, even for their conversation hard like granite from the years but he doesn't sound angry. "Just a bit of a surprise for the next time one of the help decides to sneak where he isn't wanted."

*

"Reporter? Oh, no, sir. I'm not a reporter. I'm just a personal assistant on a mission." Joining hands, she gives him a solid, but dainty enough shake, and pulls her arm back, resting it to her side. The idea of someone like Bob showing up and seeing that machine causes her to scoff and snicker. "Oh, don't be mean. Your staff seems lovely. Very kind." Pausing, she stares at the older man, keeping her warm expression, and even reaching up and brushing away some strands of brunette behind the shell of her ear.

"Thank you for allowing me into your beautiful home. It's a wonder, truly. Just…amazing, and the garden outside?" Shaking her head, it's a face he's probably seen countless times already. It was the face of genuine awe. "I can head back up to the room, though, and wait for you to be ready to speak with me. It can be short, too. I'm just curious if you'd be willing to have a member of the Bugle stop by for an interview."

*

"Good, can't stand the press." Said without skipping a beat, as he lets go of her hand, a pause as he walks over towards the corner of the room where a small tray waits for him covered in extra tools right beside one of the five fog machines scattered about the room. He rips off the other glove setting it down onto the cart, and then unties his leather apron. "Always take you out of context." A reach over given to a small pannel on the wall. He opens it up revealing a small set of levers.

"And if I say I'd be more comfortable giving an interview to a woman like yourself?" He asks while closing back shut the panel, as the platform that inflatable monstrosity is laying on starts to lower into the ground atop what apparently is actually some sort of helicopter landing pad. "What happens then?"

*

Smirking, a dimple presses into her cheek as she stands sentinal, watching after Howard as he moves about. "I can't apologize for the press, sir. Wish I could." But she knew she couldn't. Watching the beast lower and the floor become something different, his question seems to catch her off guard. "Oh! Well, I suppose I can ask some questions and take a few notes. I'd be honored that you'd allow me the pleasure, Mr. Stark." Digging into her purse, she pulls out a well used, worn notepad. Giving it a wiggle, she grins. "I brought this with me, after all. When would be a good time for you?"

*

"Oh I'd say" Howard pauses looking down at his watch as he starts packing up his tools. The loudly roaring industrial fans seem to have cleared most the fog out, allowing him to see it clearly. "You've got ten minutes." A light tink as his goggles drop down onto the cart in front of him. "Start asking questions." The last thing able to bee seen of the deflated gorilla is its hand as it slides backwards into the lowering pit. The arm slapping back down onto the landing pad echoes up a loud slap as the doors around the lowering pad begin to seal back closed. "If you're lucky I might even answer them."

*

Blinking, the woman's lips soften, lightly gaped and lost, at first. Pulling at the pen's cap with her teeth, she flips the instrument around, topping it with said cap as she walks closer, notepad open to a fresh sheet of clean paper. A number of things were known about Howard Stark. It was something that comes with being famous, a genius, industrious. Stark was a house hold name.

Pen, poised, she eyes up at the older man, studying his face attentively before finally parting her lips and giving herself voice once more. "Are you proud of what your advancements have produced for the people of the world?"

*

Howard grabs a jacket from the side of the cart, throwing the grey sports coat over his shoulders with a bit of a twist into place. "I wouldn't say I'm proud of everything I've helped produce." He flings on a tie from the same cart, quickly tieing it into place with a full windsor. "The majority certainly, but when I look back on my inventions I can honestly say I will always regret the atom bomb." His hands dart down the front of his suit buttoning it into place. Without a pause he starts slowly walking back up that little pathway Elizabeth had come down. "On the whole however I'd say it's hard not to have some level of pride in my work."

*

Elizabeth writes as he speaks, quick and skilled at dictation. She worked for Jameson, she had to be on her game eight days a week. "Out of everything you've experienced in your life, do you have any favorite moments?" She follows up, glancing up now and then to make sure she's not bumping into the man's back as they make their way back toward the train-themed study. "Is there anything you thought you'd be growing up that was not what you are currently? Any childlike ambitions you still wish to claim?"

*

"I've traveled the world hunting for treasure, fought a shirtless Nazi on the back of a bomber, flown captain America into the heart of German occupied France." Howard starts walking back up the stairs one step at a time. "I've lived out all my dreams, ran through a life most men can only dream about. Drug myself out from the ditch." The lights behind them slowly flick back off as they leave the room, one after another. He pauses for a moment his attention drifting towards those now disused rooms. "But the most important moment of my life, the biggest highlight was seeing my son Tony born, and I wouldn't trade that for the world."

*

Nodding, she keeps writing, note after note, she jots down his answers to the letter. After he speaks of his son, she lifts her head and smiles gently. It's a maternal smile, something that touches the girl on a somewhat personal level. A glance into the rooms, she returns her stormy eyes back to Howard and writes down a new question, just waiting to ask it, allowing a pause of peace to settle after speaking about the man's son. "How do you feel about the world today? What it's become?"

*

Howard presses his hand down onto the wall at the end of the hallway. That door from earlier slowly slides out and open. Suddenly the two basked in that bright yellow light, the almost orange glow of the bulbs. "We've seen full confirmation of life on other worlds, the death of the president of the united states of America, and the end of an era. Tensions are raising even further in Vietnam, and we're looking at a world on the brink of potential global thermonuclear war. Yet in spite of it all I hold firm now to the stance I always have." He steps into the room, walking over towards those olive drab chairs. "The main thing that we have on our side as humanity is a tenacity, and refusal to give up in the face of impossible odds. If we don't blow ourselves up first I have every confidence that humanity will triumph against adversity."

*

"Progressive. Powerful. Optimistic." She comments, soon joining him and claiming a seat for herself. Crossing her legs in one smooth movement, that pen of hers wiggles and scribbles, and before long, she blows across its ink and then turns it, showing more open space for her thoughts, and his answers. "What's your favorite drink? Favorite dessert? Are you busy Friday night?" She questions, eyes up and over, watching Howard now.

*

The door slowly closes behind Elezebeth as Howard sets down flipping a coin between his fingers. Without even skipping a beat his face still rather stoic without real sign of emotion to it. "Laphroaig 5 year, Coconut Sandwich, and only if you're interested in Thai food." Finally giving a light wink of the eye, before returning back to that serious expression.

*

Winking back, she nibbles her lower lip and looks back down to her notepad. "What are your hopes for the future of this city, and the world as a whole? Would you be willing to allow a photographer visit so we can have a new picture for your article when it runs? What's your favorite color on a woman?"

*

There's a quiet ringing from Howards wrist. He looks down and pulls up the sleeve of his jacket for a moment. "And that's ten minutes on the dot." He clarifies with a bit of a smile, while coming back up to a stand. "But as a freebee I wouldn't mind at all having a photographer over." His polished shoes touching down on that dark tan carpeting with a light thud as he starts to walk over towards the door.

*

Elizabeth tsks, her tongue pressing at the back of her teeth. "Saved by the bell." Standing, she slips her notepad away and caps her pen. Tucking it away, she closes her hand bag and brushes down her skirt, and coat, before following after him and toward the exit. "I'll be sure to call again and make an appointment for our photographer to visit. Pausing by the door, she offers him her hand once more. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Stark. See you on Friday? Seven sharp?"

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