Month Later Tony Stark, clad in his Iron Man suit, had been busy. Afghanistan became his impromptu battleground as he hunted down the Ten Rings, the terrorist group that had haunted his past. Mission after mission, he systematically dismantled their operations, finally freeing the people of Gomira from their nightmare. The locals hailed him as a hero, while back in the U.S., he became the hot topic of every news cycle. Speculations about his armor’s capabilities exploded, with whispers suggesting Stark Industries might be hiding a monopoly on advanced technology.

Unable to escape the spotlight, Tony decided to embrace it. During a highly anticipated press conference, he faced the global audience with his trademark bravado and uttered the now-legendary words, “I am Iron Man.”

The declaration was like lighting a firework in a crowded room. Cheers, gasps, and an avalanche of questions followed. Overnight, Tony became the most famous man on the planet, though his boldness earned him more than applause. The National Council quickly swooped in, demanding he turn over his technology for "national interests."

Tony, being Tony, rejected them with a casual wave of his hand and a pointed smirk. His refusal only boosted his image as a rebellious genius among the public.

One Quiet Evening at the Mansion, after a quiet dinner (well, quiet by Stark standards), Tony strolled into his lab. He grabbed a nearby tablet, tapped a few commands, and leaned back with a sigh. “Jarvis, call Orion Voss.”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis replied smoothly.

For the past month, Tony had been calling Orion daily, only to be met with silence. But persistence was one of his strong suits. This time, the call connected.

“Tony Stark,” came a deep, mildly irritated voice. “Do you have any idea how many of my devices I’ve upgraded just to avoid these calls? Calling every day for a month—that’s not persistence, that’s harassment.”

Tony blinked, momentarily stunned. He turned to Jarvis. “Jarvis, would this actually count as harassment?”

“Technically speaking, yes, sir,” Jarvis replied after a measured pause, clearly trying to soften the blow.

Tony shrugged off the comment. “You just can’t take a little enthusiasm, can you? Fine, now that I’ve got you on the line, what’s it gonna take to get you over here?”

Orion sighed audibly. “What is it you’re so desperate to show me?”

Tony grinned. “Oh, you know, just a little something I’ve been working on. Nothing world-changing or anything… yet.”

Orion paused, his interest piqued despite himself. Tony Stark didn’t invite people over unless there was something monumental in the works. But he wasn’t about to let Tony off the hook so easily. “Is there food?”

Tony blinked, caught off guard. “Food? That’s your first question? I’m offering you a front-row seat to genius, and you’re worried about catering?”

Orion chuckled, his voice rich with amusement. “Tony, a man’s gotta eat. And if you’re calling me at this hour, I’m assuming dinner’s included. Let’s just say I’m hungry enough to eat for a hundred.”

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Tony groaned. “You’re unbelievable.” But a memories from of Orion’s infamous appetite flickered in his mind. At a Stark gala, Orion had supposedly demolished enough hors d’oeuvres to make the catering team cry.

“Fine,” Tony grumbled. “I’ll make it happen.”

Before he could finish, the line clicked dead. Tony stared at the phone. “Did he just hang up on me?”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis confirmed.

“Right. Call the chefs at the Ritz or something. Tell them I need enough food for a small army. Pay them extra to rush it.”

“Already on it, sir,” Jarvis replied, always one step ahead.

Tony retreated to the living room, flopping onto the couch. His mind raced with ideas. He didn’t just want to show off his latest tech—though, obviously, that was part of it. He also had a bigger plan brewing, one involving a potential team. Something like… the Avengers Initiative.

Pepper walked in, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re out of the lab early. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Tony replied, feigning nonchalance. “Just waiting for someone.”

Her brow arched. “And by someone, you mean?”

Before Tony could dodge the question, Jarvis chimed in. “Mr. Orion Voss, Miss Potts.”

Pepper’s eyes widened slightly. She recognized the name from high-society circles—a man with a sharp intellect and an even sharper tongue. “Since when are you two friends?”

“We’re not,” Tony said quickly. “It’s more of a… professional curiosity.”

Pepper smirked knowingly. “Well, considering the mountain of food about to arrive, I assume your ‘curiosity’ comes with a big appetite.”

Minutes later, Jarvis announced, “Sir, Mr. Orion Voss has arrived.”

The mansion’s doors swung open with their usual mechanical precision. Orion strolled in, radiating confidence. He wore a crisp white suit that seemed to defy wrinkles, paired with an aura that was equal parts charisma and menace.

Pepper stepped forward to greet him. “Welcome, Mr. Voss.”

“Miss Potts,” Orion replied smoothly, his voice like honeyed steel. “The pleasure’s mine.”

Tony interrupted the polite exchange with a clap. “Alright, Voss, let’s get this show on the road. Lab’s downstairs.”

Orion chuckled, following Tony toward the staircase. “You really know how to roll out the red carpet, Stark.”

“Stick around,” Tony shot back. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Tony Stark saw Orion Voss approaching and casually got up, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward Pepper Potts. "Hey, Pep, why don’t you let us handle the big brain stuff? We’ll be out when we’re done saving the world or, you know, whatever."

Pepper raised an eyebrow, her curiosity clearly piqued but not enough to argue. With a resigned sigh, she nodded and stepped aside. Orion, catching the exchange, offered her a polite smile before following Tony down the stairs to the lab. As they descended, Tony leaned in, lowering his voice. "Let’s keep her out of this for now. Something tells me you have another reason to accept my invitation."

Orion chuckled softly. "You catch on quick, Stark. It’s not that she wouldn’t get it—she’s sharper than most. It’s more about... what she doesn’t need to carry."

Tony threw him a sidelong glance. "You mean my charming emotional baggage?"

"Among other things," Orion quipped, smirking.

As they stepped into the lab, the room lit up like a sci-fi dreamland. Holograms hovered in midair, shimmering blueprints and prototypes spinning lazily. Robotic arms whirred softly in the background, while arc reactors hummed with quiet menace. It was a space that screamed "Tony Stark," equal parts brilliance and ego.

Orion took a moment to soak it in, giving a low whistle. "You’ve really outdone yourself here, Tony. Looks like you’ve been raiding the future for design tips."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Tony said, pulling up a holographic chair for Orion. "Let’s get straight to it. What do you know about aliens?"

Orion settled into the chair, crossing one leg over the other with maddening ease. "More than you do," he said, his tone annoyingly cryptic. "I’ll give you three questions. Make them count."

Tony arched an eyebrow, already suspicious. "What is this, Who Wants to Be a Billionaire? Fine. First question: Is Earth really in as much danger as Coulson’s doom-and-gloom routine made it sound?"

"Right now? Not quite," Orion replied with a shrug. "But give it a few years, and things will get... interesting."