"Twenty million!?"
Tony's eyes widened in disbelief.
He was rich. And he wasn't stingy.
If it meant saving his life, he'd pay not just twenty million, but two hundred million, two billion, hell—twenty billion if necessary.
For a self-proclaimed genius like himself, as long as he was alive, he could rebuild Stark Industries a dozen times over. Money was just numbers in an account.
But being rich didn't mean being stupid. He'd spend premium prices for premium products—the best cars, the best tech, the best everything. But he wouldn't pay premium prices for garbage, and he especially wouldn't get scammed.
This was just an introduction to a doctor. Not treatment. Not a cure. Just a damn name and phone number.
And this guy wanted twenty million for that?
Did he really think Tony Stark's money grew on trees?
"Is there a problem with twenty million?" Quinn glanced at him with mild surprise while cutting his steak with deliberate slowness. "You don't think the life of the 'greatest genius of the 21st century' is worth twenty million dollars?"
"You're underestimating me," Tony said coldly. "My value can't be measured in mere money."
"You're right. So I've changed my mind. Thirty million."
"..."
Tony's mouth fell open slightly.
Did I just shoot myself in the foot?
No, no—this bastard set him up.
Tony's expression soured. "You're still as annoying as you were before."
"Right back at you."
Their first meeting hadn't been pleasant.
Tony had just returned from the Middle East. Right after holding the press conference where he'd announced Stark Industries was shutting down its weapons division, Quinn had intercepted him on his way back to the tower.
Quinn told him: The whole thing was a conspiracy designed specifically to kill him. Someone inside Stark Industries had colluded with terrorists and leaked his travel schedule. And Quinn knew exactly who that person was.
At the time, Tony had his suspicions too.
So he'd asked who the traitor was.
Quinn's response? "Ten million dollars."
Which had left Tony absolutely speechless.
When a complete stranger runs up claiming to know who tried to kill you and immediately demands an outrageous sum of money, your first instinct is to assume they're a con artist.
Tony had haggled. Said he'd involve Jarvis and the State Department to get his money back when the information turned out to be fake. The price jumped to thirty million.
At that point, Tony realized what kind of person Quinn was—the type who didn't negotiate once they'd set a price. So he'd gritted his teeth and paid the thirty million for the information.
And Quinn had told him the traitor was Obadiah Stane.
Obadiah was the person Tony trusted most at the time. Quinn was the person Tony trusted least at the time.
So when Quinn named Obadiah as the mastermind behind the assassination attempt... well, the results were predictable. They'd nearly come to blows.
Even though it was eventually confirmed that Obadiah was the traitor, that didn't change the fact that Tony had almost punched Quinn in the face.
Plus, Tony's personality was naturally arrogant.
The events in the Middle East and Obadiah's betrayal had mellowed him out somewhat, sure. But only somewhat. He'd gone from full-on arrogant to just moderately arrogant.
Even though he knew he'd misjudged Quinn and technically owed him an apology, Tony still refused to admit it out loud.
Running into him by chance today... Since Tony knew he was dying soon anyway, he'd originally intended to apologize. Not leave any regrets behind.
But as soon as they'd started talking, the conversation had derailed completely.
Tony had forgotten why he'd approached Quinn in the first place. He watched Quinn enjoying his lunch without a care in the world, and anger bubbled up in his chest despite himself.
But thinking of his situation—the palladium poisoning slowly killing him—the anger deflated.
"Fine. Thirty million. Give me the doctor's contact information."
"She doesn't use a cell phone or email. I'll take you to her directly."
"Alright."
They stood to leave.
That's when Agent Coulson arrived with seven or eight other agents, blocking their path.
Tony looked at Quinn, who shrugged helplessly.
Tony turned to Coulson. "What's the meaning of this?"
"Sorry to interrupt your meal, Mr. Stark." Coulson's tone was professionally apologetic. "But your friend, Mr. Quinn, is wanted for murder. We need to take him in for questioning."
"Do you have an arrest warrant?"
"Right here."
Coulson produced a document issued by the Metro Police Department and handed it to Tony. Then he looked at Quinn. "Mr. Quinn, we've cooperated before. We're practically acquaintances. I'd prefer not to get physical. I hope you'll come voluntarily."
Quinn looked up at him, then glanced at the agents positioned behind Coulson. He smiled coldly. "And if I don't cooperate?"
"Then I'll have to apologize in advance."
Coulson drew his pistol. The agents behind him did the same, forming a loose semicircle around Quinn.
"Wait a second!"
Tony's voice cut through the tension.
Coulson looked over, confused. "Is there something else, Mr. Stark?"
"I have a question for him. Give me a minute."
Without waiting for Coulson's response, Tony looked directly at Quinn. "Did you actually kill someone?"
"Self-defense."
"Got it."
Tony nodded, then casually tore the arrest warrant in half.
Coulson froze for a beat, then shouted, "...What are you doing?"
Tony tore the warrant into smaller pieces and dropped them into his soup bowl with a smile. "Sorry. If you want to arrest him, you'll need to go back and get another warrant."
"Tony, you're—"
"Don't give me that bureaucratic bullshit. If you want to lecture me, talk to my legal team."
"..."
Coulson fell silent.
Seeing this, Tony smiled and turned to Quinn. "Let's go."
"Yeah."
Quinn nodded, pushed past the agent blocking his path, and prepared to leave with Tony.
He could handle this situation himself if necessary. But he hated unnecessary complications, and if Tony wanted to help, Quinn was happy to let him.
"Stop right there!"
Coulson's voice rang out just as they reached the restaurant entrance. The sound of multiple slides being racked followed immediately.
They stopped.
Tony turned around, his face dark with anger. "What's your problem? Are you seriously threatening to shoot me and my friend?"
"We're simply performing our duties. If Mr. Stark feels his rights have been violated, he's welcome to have his legal team sue us." Coulson's expression remained professional. "We don't want to harm either of you. We're doing this for Mr. Quinn's safety."
Tony turned to look at Quinn.
"I'll handle this myself."
Quinn looked at Coulson and began walking toward him slowly. As he walked, he loosened his tie, a smile playing at his lips. "Coulson, you and I are acquaintances, right?"
"Of course. And if Mr. Quinn would simply be a law-abiding citizen, we could stay friends."
"No, that's not what I'm getting at."
Quinn stopped eight steps away from Coulson. He pulled his tie completely off and tossed it aside.
"What I mean is... you should know a little bit about me."
Coulson felt a flicker of unease. He didn't understand where Quinn was going with this. After a moment's consideration, he answered honestly. "...Yes, I do."
"Then tell me—do you think I'm the type of person who makes empty threats?"
"...No."
The smile on Quinn's face widened. "Then let me show you exactly why I felt confident threatening Fury. Why I dared to threaten S.H.I.E.L.D. itself."
He rolled his shoulders, loosening them.
"Sun Breathing..."