While the giants of industry and intelligence were locked in a chess match of shadows and fire, Aryan was conducting a financial symphony that would change the power structure of the world forever. He was interested in the infrastructure of the future.
Deep within his private sanctuary, he sat before the Red Queen. Her holographic avatar—a flickering image of logical precision—processed millions of data points per second.
"The volatility in the energy and defense sectors is peaking," the Red Queen reported. "Tony Stark's 'Divorce' from the military has created a vacuum. Market sentiment is 84% negative."
"Perfect," he replied. "Initiate the Ghost Fund protocol."
To mask his movements, he had acquired a mid-sized, respectable brokerage firm based in London—Aethelgard Financial. By funneling his trades through this legitimate entity, his massive influx of capital looked like the aggressive moves of a high-risk hedge fund.
When Tony Stark announced the closure of the weapons division, the world panicked. Stocks plummeted from $300 to $60. Using the Red Queen's predictive algorithms, he had already placed massive "Short" positions on Stark Industries days before the announcement. As the rest of the world lost billions, he turned a 500% profit in forty-eight hours. He created a war chest of liquid capital.
The true masterstroke came when Tony Stark sued the Department of Defense. The public saw a scandal; he saw a rebound. He knew the military would lose. He knew Tony would win. And he knew that once the "Clean Energy" shift was revealed, Stark Industries would be the most valuable company in human history.
"Buy everything," he commanded.
Through thousands of shell accounts and decentralized dark-pool exchanges, the Red Queen began vacuuming up Stark shares. He snapped up the panicked "retail" shares at their absolute lowest point—pennies on the dollar. Many of the old-guard shareholders, terrified by the FBI raids on Stane's offices and the impending legal war with the Pentagon, were desperate to bail out. His agents approached them privately, offering them "fair" prices for their voting blocks.
By the time the court ruled against the Department of Defense and the news of the "Arc Reactor" potential began to leak into the tech journals, the dust settled on a new reality.
He looked at the final tally on the holographic ledger:
* Tony Stark: 45% (Controlling Interest)
* Aryan (via Aethelgard/Shells): 28.2%
* Public/Minority Holders: 26.8%
With 28% of the company, he was the second-largest shareholder in the world's most advanced technology firm. He held more power in Stark Industries than Obadiah Stane ever had. He was now a "Shadow Partner" to Tony Stark, holding a seat on the board.
He stood up, looking out over his own growing empire. "Tony has the genius and the suit," he murmured.
The Red Queen flickered. "Shall I prepare a formal introduction for the next Board of Directors meeting?"
"No," he smiled. "Let Tony enjoy his victory over the Pentagon. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes he doesn't just work for himself anymore."
———
The golden afternoon sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Aryan's private estate, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where Sharon Carter sat, nursing a cup of tea. For the past few months, she had lived a life she never thought possible: peaceful, civilian, and remarkably quiet.
The vibration of the encrypted burner phone on the table shattered the silence like a gunshot.
The message on the screen was short: VACATION OVER. MANPOWER CRITICAL. REPORT TO HEADQUARTERS AT 0800. – FURY.
Sharon stared at the screen, a heavy weight settling in her chest. While the world knew her as a civilian, she was a legacy agent, a soldier for an organization that didn't allow for "peace."
But here, working for Aryan, she had found something she didn't want to lose.
She found him in the library, sitting by the fireplace with a book in his hand. When she entered, he looked up and offered her a genuine smile—a warmth that had become more frequent in recent weeks as his calculating exterior began to melt.
"I have to go, Aryan," she said softly, her voice wavering. "My... the Bureau called. They're shorthanded after the Pentagon scandal. My leave is canceled."
Aryan's smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet concern. He stood up and walked over to her, his movements relaxed and gentle. He didn't speak to her like a boss or a strategist; he spoke like someone who truly cared.
"I was hoping we'd have more time, Sharon," he said, his voice soft. "The FBI is a heavy burden to carry, especially now. Things are getting complicated out there."
"It's just a job," she lied, trying to maintain her professional mask. "I'm just another agent in the system."
"Not to me," Aryan countered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. It was a matte-black pager with a single, recessed silver button in the center.
He took her hand—his touch was warm and lingering—and placed the device in her palm. "I'm expanding Umbrella's private security division. They're the best I've ever seen—specialists I've vetted personally. I know how the Bureau works, Sharon. Sometimes they send people into places they shouldn't."
Sharon looked at the device, then back at him, her eyes wide. "Aryan... this is a lot. You're setting up a private response team for a secretary?"
He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You've never been 'just a secretary' here. If you're ever in a spot where your people can't reach you, or if you just feel like the walls are closing in... press that. This uses a quantum-encrypted burst signal. It's a direct line to me."
For the first time since she had arrived, Sharon felt her "Agent" training fail her. She felt a wave of affection she hadn't expected. In the world of SHIELD, everything was a transaction. But Aryan—this man she once thought was an unfeeling machine of logic—was showing her a side of himself that was deeply human and protective.
"I didn't think you had a heart for this," she whispered, her fingers curling around the pager. "I thought everything with you was just numbers."
Aryan stepped a little closer, his expression earnest. "Numbers are easy, Sharon. People are the hard part. But you? You're worth the effort. Don't let them turn you into a ghost out there."
As she walked out of the estate and toward the black SUV waiting to take her back to the Triskelion, Sharon didn't feel like a soldier returning to the front lines. She felt like a woman who had a real home to return to, and a man who was willing to move mountains to make sure she did.
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