08-31-2018, 11:25 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-31-2018, 11:25 PM by Lawrence Monday.)
Lawrence was one of the reporters squished in near the car-entrance to the Kremlin grounds. There were very few such passageways through those imposing red walls, and everyone who could was crowded in close to this one. At her side another reporter spoke into his own personal handheld camera system. Laurie chatted with him off and on over the past few hours, he was nice enough and they agreed to grab drinks as they composed competing stories when this was all done. She winked at him just as a commotion distracted them both.
Noise filled the courtyard beyond the walls, but the archway might as well have been a portal to the underworld for all any of them could see. The first vehicle tore through the drive. Then a second. Drivers loitering around the periphery scattered off. In less than a minute a whole line of cars awaited passage.
"It seems the ball has come to an abrupt end," Laurie spoke into her live feed. MondayMargin.net was filled to the brim with watchers. She wasn't here to cover ballgown designers, she was here for the real story. "Either the ball was dismissed early or something has happened."
Laurie's lips were drawn to a thoughtful, pursed line. At her side, the reporter, Maximillian was saying almost the exact same thing. Likely the 50 other reporters around them were as well. This was not what set the MondayMargin apart. She let her studious gaze be pulled upward, above the arch, along the wall, to the ramparts she knew were there.
If only the Red Square allowed the use of drones, she could see that high up. Instead, she sank back, neck strained higher.
Shapes hurried along the top. Those would be the security forces stocked in the Kremlin - military and otherwise.
Laurie angled the video their direction as she narrated. "Something of a security concern has gripped the Grand Palace. Military forces are on the move. Stay tuned for more information."
But as the time trickled by, little else emerged except the endless stream of black cars. They may as well have been tombs and the passengers within corpses. None were talking.
What the hell happened tonight?
Noise filled the courtyard beyond the walls, but the archway might as well have been a portal to the underworld for all any of them could see. The first vehicle tore through the drive. Then a second. Drivers loitering around the periphery scattered off. In less than a minute a whole line of cars awaited passage.
"It seems the ball has come to an abrupt end," Laurie spoke into her live feed. MondayMargin.net was filled to the brim with watchers. She wasn't here to cover ballgown designers, she was here for the real story. "Either the ball was dismissed early or something has happened."
Laurie's lips were drawn to a thoughtful, pursed line. At her side, the reporter, Maximillian was saying almost the exact same thing. Likely the 50 other reporters around them were as well. This was not what set the MondayMargin apart. She let her studious gaze be pulled upward, above the arch, along the wall, to the ramparts she knew were there.
If only the Red Square allowed the use of drones, she could see that high up. Instead, she sank back, neck strained higher.
Shapes hurried along the top. Those would be the security forces stocked in the Kremlin - military and otherwise.
Laurie angled the video their direction as she narrated. "Something of a security concern has gripped the Grand Palace. Military forces are on the move. Stay tuned for more information."
But as the time trickled by, little else emerged except the endless stream of black cars. They may as well have been tombs and the passengers within corpses. None were talking.
What the hell happened tonight?