In Marvel With Unique Skill Great Sage (MCU)

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"Yes, as the name suggests, I work for the temple of fame and fortune, and I LOVE fame and fortune."

"What's wrong with that? There's nothing wrong with wanting money! Who doesn't like money? Everyone's the same!"

Her fingers clenched around the edges of the bathroom sink, her expression hardening.

But no matter how much she tried to justify her feelings, the sting of betrayal lingered.

Stark hadn't just ignored her—he'd treated her as if she were beneath consideration.

And for someone as proud as Christine, that cut deeper than any insult.

For Christine, paying a small, insignificant price—like sleeping with a billionaire—was no big deal.

It was a straightforward transaction: consent and mutual benefit.

But even so, she had her pride.

"Sure, I might choose to sleep with a rich man, but I'll never grovel for his attention."

The very idea of being tossed aside like nothing happened and then crawling back to fawn over him? Absolutely not.

Tony Stark had played her, then refused to pay any kind of compensation.

That wasn't something she could let go.

"He's going to regret this," she thought bitterly, her resolve sharpening.

Meanwhile, Stark's expression contorted as he stared at Christine, the corners of his mouth twitching in discomfort.

Was there anything more awkward than running into someone you'd ghosted after a one-night stand?

Yes—remembering their name wrong while doing so.

Turning his face slightly, Stark tried to salvage what little composure he had left, though his tone betrayed him.

"Right, I'm definitely panicking now," he muttered.

Christine, however, was unmoved. Her eyes glinted coldly, though her face remained calm.

"Oh, I'm not talking about us, Tony. I meant your company's latest scandal. Don't tell me you haven't heard?"

Stark's brow furrowed, though he tried to mask his unease.

"I haven't been at the company in months. Surely you've heard about that."

Of course, Christine had heard. She'd just wanted to twist the knife.

With a subtle smirk, Christine pulled out several photos from her bag.

She handed them to Stark, her tone laced with mockery.

"These are for you. I was planning to send them over later, but since you're here… lucky me."

The photos were unmistakable.

Each image showed Stark Industries weaponry—emblazoned with his company's logo—being used by none other than the infamous Ten Rings, a well-known Afghan terrorist group.

There were tanks, missile launchers, and armored vehicles, all bearing the Stark name.

Christine leaned closer, her voice sharp and biting.

"So, is this your idea of responsibility?"

The words cut like a blade, and Stark's shoulders tensed.

Just six months ago, he had stood before the world at a press conference, boldly declaring his intention to lead his company toward a future that aligned with the nation's and the world's best interests.

And now?

Now, here was cold, hard evidence proving otherwise.

Stark flipped through the photos, his expression darkening with every turn.

The images struck like blows—relentless, unyielding.

This wasn't just a slap in the face; it was a full-blown punch, one that landed with a deafening smack.

Each photograph drove home the grim reality: his weapons, in terrorist hands.

For once, Tony Stark found himself at a loss for words.

….

Tony Stark found Obadiah Stane outside, expertly managing the press with his usual air of diplomacy.

Stark's expression was grim, his face shadowed with barely contained fury. Without preamble, he strode forward, holding up the photos in his hand.

"Have you seen these?" Stark demanded, his tone sharp and unrelenting. "What's going on?"

Obadiah's polite, performative smile faltered, slipping away entirely.

Damn it.

His mind raced. Clearly, some careless subordinates had botched things, failing to remove the Stark Industries logo before shipping the weapons. Worse yet, someone had managed to capture photographic evidence.

The story had only broken yesterday, and Obadiah had hoped he'd have plenty of time to suppress it before Stark caught wind of it. After all, Tony rarely involved himself in company affairs anymore.

But now, of all times, Tony Stark had chosen to step out into the world.

What were the odds?

Obadiah tried to maintain his composure, attempting to placate Stark.

"Tony, listen to me—don't be so naive…"

But Stark wasn't having any of it. His anger boiled over, and he cut Obadiah off mid-sentence, his teeth clenched as he spat out the words.

"Naive? You're damn right I'm naive. I thought we had principles. Our company is making backdoor deals with terrorists—is this your idea of a bottom line?"

Their eyes locked, neither man willing to back down.

In that moment, they were like two wolves—one an exiled lone wolf, the other the self-proclaimed king of the pack.

Eventually, Obadiah broke eye contact, not out of fear but because he knew better than to escalate this in front of the press.

"Let's not do this here, Tony," he said smoothly. "It's photo-op time."

The reporters were already waiting for the perfect shot, eager to capture the cover image for the gala's media coverage.

Stark knew he couldn't afford a public outburst—it would lead to all sorts of unflattering headlines. Begrudgingly, he complied, standing stiffly beside Obadiah for the cameras.

As the flashes went off, Obadiah leaned in, his hand resting almost paternalistically on Stark's shoulder.

His voice was low, just above a whisper, and his words were drenched in calculated malice.

"You think you know who's been blocking your return to the company?" Obadiah murmured, his tone almost mocking.

"It was me. That's the only way I could protect you."

Obadiah allowed himself a smug chuckle, his satisfaction plain.

There was a unique thrill in manipulating someone completely, then revealing it to their face—especially when the other party was powerless to do anything about it.

What could be more delightfully cruel than this?

Once the photo session ended, Obadiah strode down the red carpet, basking in the reporters' attention.

Stark stood frozen in place, watching Obadiah's retreating back.

In that moment, he felt utterly alone, the weight of betrayal and helplessness pressing down on him.

The crowd moved around him, indifferent to his turmoil.

For the first time in a long time, Tony Stark stood in complete isolation.

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+8 chapters on patreon.

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If you want to read 8+ chapters ahead and unpublished fanfics you can check out my patreon or just take a visit.

[P].[A].[T].[R].[E].[O].[N]

http://patreon.com/Kazuma_trash