(Attendance please…)
….
Seven Days Later:-
Vienna, Austria. The International Centre.
The day had finally arrived. The day that had been the subject of endless debates, news cycles, and heated arguments in living rooms across the globe.
Today, representatives from 117 countries would gather under one roof to ratify the Sokovia Accords, placing a leash on the Avengers and defining the future of enhanced individuals.
A sleek, obsidian-black car, somewhat expensive, definitely not a standard taxi, pulled up to the venue.
It captured a fair amount of attention immediately, primarily because it didn't stop at the designated drop-off point where the crowds were waiting. Instead, it rolled right up to the front entrance, the VIP lane meant for heads of state and high-ranking officials.
The door opened, and a polished black shoe stepped out onto the pavement.
What emerged wasn't some old geezer in a suit or a diplomat surrounded by a phalanx of nervous bodyguards.
It was a young man wearing black pants, a crisp white shirt, and a dark coat slung casually over one shoulder, held by a single finger.
The name that popped into everyone's mind the instant they saw that striking white hair and the round, pitch-black sunglasses was, inevitably, Gojo Satoru.
And who wouldn't recognize him? He was the newsboy of the year. Every single day, newspapers and TV channels had been running stories about him, almost as if someone was behind the scenes, pushing to catch him with everything they had. And yet, here he was.
He fully emerged from the car, stretching his limbs long and wide as if he had just woken up from a particularly satisfying nap.
Which, knowing him, he probably had. Taking a snooze in a car right before a world-changing political event? Many wouldn't even dream of it, considering the gravity of what was to be decided today. Gojo, apparently, didn't share that sentiment.
He adjusted his round sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and flashed a grin at the scene in front of him.
Reporters. A literal sea of them.
They flocked to the barricades, calling Gojo's name, cameras flashing like a strobe light show. Questions were fired at him like bullets, overlapping into a chaotic wall of noise.
"Mr. Satoru! Mr. Satoru!"
"Is it true you are signing the Accords knowing you are here?"
"Are you feeling guilty because of what happened?! Is that why you signed it?"
"Are you officially joining the government now?"
"Mr. Satoru, please look here!"
"Are you here for the meeting?"
"Who did you come with?"
"Is the Avengers coming?!"
"Why did you come alone?!"
"Is Tony Stark coming too??"
And just like that, many more questions were thrown at him every second.
Gojo didn't say anything at first. Most people in his position would ignore the press, or maybe throw a hand up for a "no comment" and rush inside.
But Gojo wasn't "most people." He didn't rush past them with a stoic expression like Captain America, looking like he was marching to a funeral.
Nor did he blow kisses to the crowd like Tony Stark before beginning a performance.
He stopped. He posed for a picture or two, tilting his head just so. He let the flashes finish. And then, he answered.
"Woah, woah, woah," Gojo said, his voice cutting through the din easily. "Didn't know I had this much fan following. I mean, I know I'm famous and all, but I didn't think everyone would know me. So, to answer all of your questions one by one..."
He held up a finger for each point.
"Yes, my name is Gojo Satoru."
"Yes, I like sweets."
"I like every kind of sweet, to be honest, so no differentiating against that."
"Yes, my hair is natural. 100%."
"Yes, I'm tall."
"No, I didn't have face surgery. I'm just that handsome."
"Yes, I'm hella rich…"
"No, I don't have a girlfriend, so the spot is open."
"No, that is not my car. I got it from a rental service. I don't drive."
"Yes, yes, I have five fingers too."
"Yes, I collect Pokemon cards."
One after another, he answered questions that absolutely no one had asked. And he said them with so much confidence, with such a straight face, that it sounded like he was addressing serious geopolitical inquiries.
Reporters, one by one, grew confused. They looked at their notes, then at each other. No one had asked any of those questions. Not a single one. And he hadn't answered a single question they had asked.
After answering his list of non-asked questions, he sighed, acting as if the press conference had been incredibly draining.
"Well," he said, waving a hand, "it was good meeting you all. My doctor said not to be in the sun for far too long as it is hot outside, and all, you know. And my final thing to say to the kids watching this..."
He looked directly into the lens of a major news camera.
"Yo, kids! I just opened a YouTube channel on which sweets taste better and how to get taller. If you are short, be sure to watch them. I also have videos on 'How not to do your homework' and 'How not to anger your parents even if you did something bad.' Channel name is Gojoru Life Hacks. It is a combination of my name. And I like it. Byeee!"
And then he walked off like he had just concluded some serious business, leaving the reporters and everyone else staring at his retreating back, wondering what on earth they had just heard.
Gojo walked past the security checkpoints where the guards simply stared at him, unsure if they should ask for ID or check him for weapons.
They knew who he was. They knew asking him to stop would probably be pointless. So, he just breezed through.
When he entered the building, he made his way to the deposit area inside where all the people, the delegates, the officials, were gathered.
….
Inside the building:-
A man stood by the massive glass wall, looking outside at the circus of reporters, security, and the constant flow of arrivals.
He had come here with his father today for the Sokovia Accords.
The world, or to be exact, the important people from 117 countries, were gathered here in this room. Some were already deep in discussion, huddled in small groups, while others were yet to arrive.
Natasha Romanoff was already present, standing a little apart from the main throng. She was waiting. Waiting for Gojo, who was yet to come.
The man noticed something outside, the white-haired arrival.
Natasha and the man, Prince T'Challa of Wakanda, had come straight here, bypassing the press. It wasn't needed for them to make a scene.
Natasha came to the glass wall where everything was visible. She had come to see if Gojo had even arrived yet.
Knowing him, she didn't even know if he would come in a car, or with someone else, or if he would just… appear standing behind her. She turned back instinctively.
She didn't see him.
So, to continue her train of thought, he could just warp here any moment. But her worries were put to rest as she saw Gojo getting out of the car below.
He had decided to come in a flashy way, after all.
T'Challa spoke, his voice calm and accented. "It seems… neither of us is used to the spotlight, huh?"
Natasha glanced at him, then back out the window. "Well, it's not always flattering, you know."
"He seems to like it," T'Challa noted, watching Gojo pose for the cameras. "It seems."
"That… yeah," Natasha admitted with a small sigh. "He apparently doesn't care if it is flattering or not. He just answers what he wants to answer, regardless of the question."
T'Challa tilted his head slightly. "He is different. I did not think he would be like this. In the news, and all the pictures I had seen of him… he seems, how should I say… serious. Dangerous. But apparently, I was wrong."
"That is a correct assumption," Natasha said, a faint smile playing on her lips. "He is quite the opposite of serious, actually. I don't even know what he would do the next second. For all I know, he could just go home and not even come here all the way if he felt like it."
"Well," T'Challa said, turning to face her fully, "it seems you are doing quite the heavy work in thinking too much about what he would do."
Natasha shrugged. "Well, with what is going on… I think a little bit of more work isn't that much if everything can come out okay."
"That… I agree with," T'Challa nodded. "Though, excluding him… I didn't really expect you to be here. Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill… I didn't really think you would be comfortable in this company."
"Well," Natasha said, her expression guarding her true feelings, "I assure you. I'm not."
T'Challa smiled, a genuine, warm expression. "That alone makes me glad that you are here, Ms. Romanoff… really."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, looking at him. "Why?! You don't approve of this all?"
T'Challa laughed a little, a soft sound. "Haha, no, not at all. The Accords, I agree with… but on the other hand, politics… I do not."
"Well," Natasha said, relaxing slightly, "it seems we agree on something same then."
"Yes," T'Challa smiled. "And it seems your worry is here, Ms. Romanoff." He signed with his hand towards the entrance, where someone had just entered the room, looking around as if he were searching for the buffet.
….
A/N: I'm so… so ashamned i cant even show my face. I'm sorry guys. I will drop the next chapter in under 3 days if we get 200+ comments.
Well… i will drop it here either way in 3 days. So no pressure.
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