Coulson, standing quietly in the corner, perked up. Tony’s blunt approach wasn’t what he’d expected, but he was intrigued. Orion, however, didn’t flinch. His expression remained as calm as ever, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I’m feeling great, actually.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really? Even though your investment is about to go down the drain?”
Orion leaned back, his tone casual. “It’s not my problem. I sold all my shares two months ago.”
The room went silent for a beat. Even Tony looked momentarily stunned. Coulson, ever the professional, pulled out a tablet and quickly accessed the records. His eyes widened as the numbers confirmed Orion’s claim—every share sold at near-peak value, totaling over $1.13 billion. Orion had walked away with a cool $300 million in profit, leaving the impending chaos behind.
Tony let out a low whistle, setting his glass down with a deliberate clink. “Well, aren’t you just a financial Jedi? How’d you know to pull out before today’s announcement?”
Orion shrugged, his smirk widening. “Call it intuition. Or maybe I just don’t trust guys who build flying death machines.”
Coulson, still glued to the data on his tablet, looked up with a mix of admiration and disbelief. “You sold everything… perfectly timed. That’s either incredible luck or—”
“Or I’m just good at what I do,” Orion interrupted smoothly. “You think this is a fluke?”
Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. “You’re confident. I like that. But tell me, how long do you think you can ride this hot streak? Sooner or later, luck runs out.”
“Hahaha~ Tony Stark, you’re really not holding back today, are you?” Orion’s grin was as wide as it was infuriating. His tone was light, almost too casual. “Wealth? I’m still playing catch-up with you. Intelligence? Come on, who can compare to the great Tony Stark, genius extraordinaire? But call it luck, fate, or sheer hustle—none of that’s stopped me from raking in the cash, has it?”
Tony raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing his arms as if to shield himself from Orion’s relentless cheer. The man’s bright, unwavering smile was somehow more aggravating than his words. “So,” Tony said, his voice tinged with irritation, “why exactly did you come to my press conference? Here to gloat about your crystal ball of foresight?”
Orion chuckled, unfazed. “Gloat? No, no, Stark. I just thought I’d drop by since you’ve been MIA for months. You’ve been quieter than usual, and that’s saying something. Where’ve you been hiding? Maybe I’ll book my next vacation there.”
Tony’s smirk sharpened. “Afghanistan,” he replied dryly, throwing it out like a grenade.
Orion’s expression shifted slightly, though not in the way Tony expected. “Afghanistan?” he repeated, his tone casual, as if Tony had said Malibu. “You really went to a place crawling with terrorists? Bold choice.”
“Bold?” Tony snapped, narrowing his eyes. “Try life-threatening. Not exactly a vacation hotspot.”
Stolen story; please report.
“Well, even if you hadn’t told me,” Orion said, leaning back with mock thoughtfulness, “I doubt you’d find your way to my hideaway. After all, your empire’s still stuck dabbling in real estate and stocks. Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing… Stark-worthy.”
The jab landed, but Tony wasn’t one to back down. He smirked, letting the challenge simmer. “Stocks and real estate for now, maybe,” he said, his voice laced with quiet confidence. “But don’t blink, Voss. One day, you might be the one asking me for help.”
Orion’s grin widened. “Oh, speaking of help,” he said casually, “can I ask you for a favor?”
Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “You? Asking me for something? That’ll be the day.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Orion countered, pointing a finger at himself like he’d just cracked a joke only he understood. “Anything’s possible for someone like me, right?”
Tony chuckled, though the banter was beginning to feel more like a chess match. Something about Orion’s unshakable confidence—it wasn’t just bravado. It was unnerving. “Who are you, really?” Tony asked, his voice dropping an octave.
Orion didn’t answer, not directly. Instead, he waved the question away with a maddeningly vague smile. “Let’s save that for another time, Stark. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”
With that, Orion turned and strode out of the press conference, leaving Tony rooted in place, his mind racing. There was something off about the guy, something that didn’t add up. Stark had dealt with his fair share of enigmas, but this one? Orion Voss? He was one to watch.
Outside, Orion strolled to his luxury car like he didn’t have a care in the world. He gave a quick wave to Coulson, who stood nearby, watching him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Orion glanced over at Coulson, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Hop in,” he said breezily. “Let’s chat somewhere a little more private. I’m dying to know what you’ve got to say.”
Coulson hesitated but climbed into the passenger seat, his professional demeanor intact, though his curiosity was clearly piqued. He wasn’t sure what had gone down between Tony and Orion, but the air of mystery surrounding this man was thick enough to cut with a knife. As they sped away, Coulson cleared his throat. “Mr. Voss,” he began, his tone measured, “our organization—the Homeland Strategic Defense, Attack, and Logistics Support Bureau—”
Orion snorted. “Quite the mouthful. Do you guys charge extra for that name?”
Coulson ignored the jab. “—is tasked with handling unusual incidents that pose a potential threat. Let me assure you, we have no ill intentions toward high-profile citizens like yourself.”
“Oh, great. I feel so much better now,” Orion deadpanned. “So, what do you want? Or should I guess? You think I’m secretly a mutant or something, right?”
Coulson, caught slightly off-guard, hesitated. “Well… your rapid rise has been, let’s say, extraordinary. It’s raised a few eyebrows.”
Orion leaned back, crossing his arms. “So extraordinary that you send some trigger-happy agent to test me? That’s your pitch? Brilliant strategy.”
Coulson winced. “The agent acted… independently. I assure you, her actions don’t reflect our organization’s intentions.”
“Yeah, sure,” Orion said with a roll of his eyes. “Look, if you wanted to talk, maybe try not to shoot first next time.”
Coulson felt a twinge of discomfort as Orion’s blunt words hung in the air. Normally, he’d be firmer with a civilian giving him this kind of attitude. But Orion wasn’t just any civilian. He was a high-profile taxpayer with a squeaky-clean record—no skeletons in the closet, no scandals to exploit. Dealing with him required a careful touch. One wrong move, and Coulson could make things a lot messier than they needed to be.
Orion’s reputation was no joke. He wasn’t superpowered, but he might as well have been, given how much influence he’d amassed in just a few years. With his wealth and strategic investments, he could potentially become a major backer of SHIELD’s future projects—assuming, of course, Coulson didn’t blow it here and now. So, Coulson took the diplomatic route, choosing his words like he was defusing a bomb.
Orion’s expression softened a bit, but his frustration still simmered beneath the surface. "She didn’t hurt me," he said, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and vulnerability, "but she scared me. I didn’t go outside for a while after that."