Chapter 22

1 Day Before the Fight – Washington D.C.

Orion adjusted his suit jacket, eyeing himself in the mirror of the black SUV. He had never been the type to care about appearances, but today wasn't about him—it was about image.

The United States needed the world to see him as unshaken, dominant, and in control.

Monroe sat beside him, flipping through a tablet, looking far too comfortable in the middle of all this government-driven spectacle. Unlike her usual casual style, she had gone for a professional look today—navy blazer, neatly tied-back hair, and that ever-present, unreadable smirk.

"You ready for this?" she asked, barely glancing up.

"Not even a little," Orion muttered.

"Good. That means you won't say anything stupid."

Orion exhaled, leaning back. "Remind me why we're doing this again?"

"Because," Monroe said, swiping through a document, "your first fight was the most-watched event in modern history. The U.S. needs to control the narrative. That means making sure the world sees you as exactly what they need you to be."

"Let me guess. Their invincible champion?"

Monroe smirked. "Exactly. Try not to ruin it."

- The Press Conference -

The SUV rolled up to a government press hall, and before Orion even stepped out, the flashing lights from outside were already blinding.

Reporters. Cameras. A sea of people.

He sighed. This was going to suck.

Secret Service agents flanked him as he walked up the steps, Monroe calmly pacing beside him. She thrived in this kind of setting—he could tell. She had the air of someone who had been dealing with bureaucratic bullshit for years, even though Orion knew she hadn't.

Inside, the hall was packed. A long table with microphones had been set up on a stage, with a massive screen behind it displaying:

"ORION GRAVES – CHAMPION OF THE UNITED STATES"

Subtle.

Monroe took her place beside the stage while Orion sat at the center. A government official took the mic first, speaking with the kind of political smoothness that made Orion's skin crawl.

"Thank you all for being here. We are honored to have with us today the United States' champion in the Intergalactic Tournament, Orion Graves."

The crowd erupted into applause.

Orion resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Then—the first question.

A CNN reporter stood. "Orion, your first fight was an overwhelming victory. How do you feel going into your second match?"

Orion leaned into the mic. Time to play the game.

"Confident," he said smoothly. "I've had time to train, improve. I was strong before—I'm stronger now."

His tone wasn't cocky. It was matter-of-fact.

The next question followed immediately.

A Fox News correspondent. "Some critics argue that the tournament's matchups are purely random, meaning you could face anyone. How do you prepare for an opponent when you have no idea who they'll be?"

Orion smirked slightly.

"I prepare for all of them."

Murmurs in the crowd.

Monroe, standing at the edge of the stage, gave the faintest nod. Good answer.

A BBC journalist spoke next. "Your fight is less than 24 hours away, and the entire world will be watching. What do you want to say to those who doubt you?"

Orion tilted his head, thinking.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

"They won't doubt me for much longer."

The room shifted.

Something about the way he said it—the absolute certainty in his tone—sent a ripple through the audience.

He saw it in their faces.

They expected a fighter.

They expected a competitor.

What they got was someone who already knew he was above the rest.

The questions kept coming.

"How does it feel to represent the U.S.?"

"Do you think the tournament is fair?"

"How do you balance the pressure of being a global figure?"

Orion answered them all smoothly, giving just enough to keep the press happy without giving them anything they could twist.

And then...

A young journalist, probably new, stood hesitantly. "Orion, do you ever feel… afraid?"

The room went silent.

Orion locked eyes with her.

For a brief second, he considered lying. Saying something political, safe, rehearsed.

But then he thought about it.

Really thought about it.

The fights. The training. The power growing inside him.

And then he smirked.

"Afraid?" He leaned into the mic.

"No."

Silence.

Then—Monroe stepped forward, clearing her throat.

"That's all the time we have. Thank you, everyone."

As Orion stood, he felt it.

The energy in the room had changed.

They weren't just looking at him as a champion anymore.

They were looking at someone beyond them.

And that?

That was exactly what he wanted.

Back in the SUV – The Aftermath

As soon as the doors shut, Monroe let out a low whistle.

"You really know how to work a crowd, huh?"

Orion smirked. "Wasn't that the point?"

"Yeah, but the way you said that last part?" Monroe shook her head. "Half the world probably thinks you're a god now."

Orion leaned back, closing his eyes. "Good."

Monroe snorted. "Ego much?"

Orion chuckled. "Not ego. Reality."

She didn't respond immediately. He could tell she was studying him.

Then, finally, she said, "You're changing, Graves."

Orion's smirk didn't fade.

"Yeah." He exhaled. "I know."

And honestly?

He liked it.

Less Than 24 Hours Until the Fight.

To Be Continued…