The Stark Industries charity gala was the kind of event that screamed money, power, and enough champagne to fill an Olympic pool. The venue glittered with chandeliers, and the air was thick with the hum of polite conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. Tony arrived fashionably late, as was his custom, stepping out of his sleek Audi R8 to a flurry of camera flashes.

As he sauntered through the entrance, giving his best I-totally-care-about-this-event wave, his eyes scanned the room. High-end gowns and tailored tuxedos filled the space, but there was no sign of Orion.

Tony exchanged a few quick pleasantries with familiar faces before spotting Obadiah Stane near the bar, entertaining a group of investors. Tony made his way over, intent on digging up any updates on the gala’s guest list, when the low rumble of an engine outside caught his attention.

Turning toward the entrance, Tony watched as a silver Audi R8—a model eerily similar to his own—glided to a stop. The door opened, and out stepped Orion Voss, looking every bit the part of a billionaire disruptor. His black hair was perfectly styled, his sharp features accentuated by a tailored suit that probably cost more than the car he arrived in. The man oozed confidence, walking into the room as if he owned it—which, given his recent stock acquisition, wasn’t entirely untrue.

A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd.

"That’s Orion Voss," someone murmured.

"3.5 billion in working capital and counting," another added.

"Think he’s here to make some kind of announcement?"

Tony’s lips twitched in annoyance as he watched Orion make his grand entrance. ‘Oh, look, it’s Mr. Billionaire Babyface here to crash my party,’ he thought, suppressing an eye roll.

Orion didn’t head straight for the bar or mingle with the crowd. Instead, his eyes locked onto Tony almost immediately, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a knowing smile. Tony gritted his teeth. This wasn’t a coincidence.

"You actually showed up," Tony said as Orion approached, his tone equal parts amused and annoyed. "Didn’t think this was your kind of scene."

Orion chuckled lightly, his voice smooth and confident. "I make exceptions when the food’s good. And let’s be honest, Tony—you’re more interesting in person."

Tony crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Well, if you wanted to see me that badly, you could’ve just called. No need to buy half my company."

Orion’s grin widened, and he leaned in slightly. "Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I figured you’d want me to make an entrance."

Tony’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smirk. "Oh, you made an entrance, all right. But let’s skip the appetizers and get to the main course—what’s your angle? You’re not exactly known for philanthropy, so why Stark Industries? Why now?"

Orion’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, his amusement seemed to deepen. "Long-term investment. You’ve got potential, Tony. I’m just here to make sure you don’t squander it."

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Tony barked out a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Right. Because you’re all about helping people. Tell me, Orion, when’s the last time you did anything that didn’t involve turning a profit?"

Orion shrugged, unfazed by the jab. "This might surprise you, Tony, but not everything’s about money. Sometimes it’s about legacy."

That caught Tony off guard, but he masked it with a casual shrug. "Legacy, huh? Big word for someone your age. You sure you’re not just here to ruffle some feathers and see what happens?"

Orion smirked, his gaze steady. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just here to make sure you don’t implode before you can finish what you’ve started. Anyway you have time for some talk?"

Tony, never one to shy away from a challenge, didn’t deny the claim right away. Instead, he leaned into his trademark charm, offering a measured, almost teasing response. “That depends,” he said, his gaze sweeping the room as though he was calculating something important. “What exactly are we talking about here?”

Orion smirked but didn’t bite. “Let’s talk inside,” he replied, his voice carrying an edge that hinted at something deeper.

Tony hesitated, his sharp eyes catching the curious glances and whispers spreading through the room like wildfire. The spectacle of Tony Stark being approached by someone as enigmatic as Orion Voss was the kind of drama people paid good money to see—or at least gossip about later.

Finally, Tony gave a small shrug. “Alright, let’s do it.”

The two moved with a kind of quiet understanding, like characters in a spy movie who knew the cameras were rolling. It was the kind of interaction that made the crowd buzz even louder, their murmurs a mix of fascination and speculation.

As they headed toward a quieter corner, Agent Coulson observed from a distance, his brow furrowed. Ever the professional, he smoothly intercepted Stark before they disappeared entirely.

“Mr. Stark,” Coulson greeted, falling into step beside him with that irritatingly calm demeanor Tony couldn’t decide if he admired or hated. “Quick question—why are you suddenly buying up shares in Stark Industries?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, glancing between Coulson and Orion. “Well, that’s a riveting conversation starter,” he quipped. “Can I get back to you after I figure out what this guy wants?”

Without waiting for an answer, Tony followed Orion out to a deserted balcony. The cool night air hit like a relief, cutting through the stuffy heat of the event inside. The city lights sparkled below, but Tony’s focus was locked on the man in front of him.

“So?” Tony prompted, his tone equal parts curiosity and impatience. “What’s this big mystery you’ve got me here for?”

Orion leaned casually against the railing, as though they were discussing stock prices and not whatever intrigue had pulled Tony out here. “It’s simple,” he said, his voice light. “I want to make more money.”

Tony gave a snort of disbelief. “Seriously? That’s it? All this for a get-rich-quick pitch?”

“Not the whole story,” Orion admitted, his expression shifting to something more serious. “But you’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

Tony crossed his arms, skepticism written all over his face. “That’s funny, coming from the guy who’s being about as clear as a Magic 8-Ball. Care to elaborate?”

Orion tilted his head, his gaze flicking briefly to Tony’s chest—just long enough to make Tony feel like he was being scanned by a very judgmental AI. “You’ve got the brains for it. Trust me.”

That was enough to set off Tony’s internal alarms. His voice turned sharp. “Who told you that? Obadiah?”

At the name, Orion’s demeanor grew colder, like a door slamming shut. “People like him are disposable,” he said flatly. “I don’t waste time on pawns.”

Tony blinked, momentarily thrown. “Wow. You really don’t pull punches, do you?”

“Why bother?” Orion replied with a shrug. “Obadiah isn’t worth mentioning.”

It wasn’t just the words—it was the casual confidence behind them that made Tony pause. Obadiah Stane was no lightweight. For someone to dismiss him so completely was either incredibly foolish or incredibly dangerous.

“I don’t have any beef with you,” Tony said carefully, his tone measured. “But you might want to rethink how casually you toss people like Obadiah aside. The guy’s got teeth.”