Orion leaned against the leather headrest of his sleek black car, his mind spinning with possibilities. Spreading the will of the Void was no small task, and the stakes were astronomically high. Making a wrong move could paint a target on his back, drawing the attention of juggernauts like Odin or the Ancient One—beings who could squash him like a bug if they wanted to. Sure, he could retreat into the Void if things got messy, but the idea of living as a cosmic hermit didn’t appeal to him. Yet.

‘Caution,’ he reminded himself. He wasn’t nearly strong enough to challenge those titans directly—not yet. But time? Time was his best friend. Odin and the Ancient One were powerful, but they weren’t immortal. Eventually, they’d croak, and when they did, the universe would be a whole lot quieter. Until then, Orion had no problem playing the long game. Why rush? The Void wasn’t going anywhere.

In the meantime, he kept himself busy. A few carefully sold nuggets of cosmic intel had lined his pockets quite nicely, funding a lifestyle of luxury without raising any red flags. His estate was a paradise: pristine pools, sprawling gardens, and zero staff to witness the occasional unintended explosion of power. Controlling Void energy wasn’t exactly intuitive, and there’d been a few… incidents. Like that time he vaporized a very expensive chaise lounge. Hiring help? Not worth the risk. For now, it was just him and his slowly evolving powers.

That evening, Orion lounged by his pool, sipping a drink so cold it had little beads of condensation racing down the glass. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of fire and lavender, and for a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy it. Life wasn’t bad. Sure, there were ancient sorcerers and Asgardian gods who could obliterate him with a sneeze, but for now? Things were quiet.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Orion got up, stretched, and swapped his casual poolside look for a razor-sharp suit. He was ready to head out for what he liked to call “after-dinner exercises”—a mix of reconnaissance, power practice, and the occasional adrenaline-fueled mischief. Sliding into his car, he was about to hit the gas when something—or rather, someone—blocked his driveway.

Orion slammed the brakes and squinted. Standing directly in front of him was a tall woman with fiery red hair, a leather jacket, and the kind of confidence that said, ;Yeah, I dare you to hit me.; He frowned. ‘Natasha?’ Black Widow herself, standing here like she owned the place? This couldn’t be good.

He rolled down the window, muttering, “What is it with crazy people and bad timing?”

Natasha didn’t flinch. Instead, she pulled out an ID, her movements smooth and practiced, and held it up for him to see. “Mr. Orion Voss,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “I’m with the Strategic Homeland Defense, Attack, and Logistics Support Agency.”

Orion blinked. “You’re with the what now?” He folded his arms, unimpressed. “Let me guess—your acronym spells ‘SHIELD’ or something equally dramatic.”

Natasha didn’t bite. “We’re not here to debate acronyms. I need to talk to you.”

Orion tilted his head, feigning boredom. “You’ve got five minutes. Go.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she continued, unfazed. “There are reports that Earth—Blue Star, as some aliens call it—has attracted attention from outside forces. You’ve been flagged as someone of interest. We believe you might be connected to… an alien god of death.”

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Orion raised an eyebrow. “Alien god of death? Sounds like a bad B-movie title.” He smirked. “And what exactly makes you think I’m your guy? I’m just a humble millionaire living his best life.”

Her expression didn’t waver. “Anomalies. Tracking patterns. Your name keeps popping up. If you’re just an ordinary person, then this won’t take long. I need to test you for superhuman abilities.”

He leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Let me get this straight. You think I’m an alien death god’s pen pal, and your solution is… testing me? You’re either very brave or very stupid.”

“Testing,” she clarified, her tone steady, “is how we differentiate between threats and allies. Play along, and this will go smoothly.”

Orion chuckled, a low, amused sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Lady, I don’t know what kind of Kool-Aid your agency’s drinking, but I’m just a guy who enjoys good food and fast cars. But sure, I’ll bite. What exactly are you testing for?”

The Homeland Strategic Defense Attack and Logistics Support Bureau was the kind of organization you'd never find listed in a government directory. Operating in the shadows, they handled the kind of weird, supernatural messes that most people wouldn’t even believe existed. They kept their work—and their mistakes—under wraps, away from the prying eyes of the public.

"I apologize for my attitude, but there are some things I can’t explain," Natasha said, her voice as calm as a lake on a windless day, though the tension in the air hinted at an impending storm.

Orion raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in her tone. He wasn’t sure what Natasha’s angle was, but he wasn’t going to underestimate her. That hunch was confirmed when she smoothly pulled out her gun and leveled it at his chest. The cold barrel stared him down like an unblinking eye.

Orion froze. He raised his hands in what could generously be called mock surrender, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “If this is about something I said, you can just tell me. No need for the theatrics. What’s the plan here? You robbing me? You want money? Because, let me tell you, my pockets are deep, and I’m feeling generous.”

Natasha didn’t even flinch. Her eyes were locked onto him, assessing, calculating. Whatever she was looking for, she hadn’t found it yet, and Orion’s charm routine wasn’t winning him any points.

The silence stretched long enough to make Orion’s smirk falter. Natasha’s finger inched closer to the trigger. That little movement made his bravado crack. “Don’t…” he said, his voice lower now, almost pleading.

The moment didn’t slip past Natasha. Orion was trying way too hard to appear human, but his reactions had given him away. He was rattled. There was fear in his eyes, and that made her suspicious. But she wasn’t about to be played.

Without warning, Natasha pulled the trigger.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The gunshots shattered the night like a glass dropped on concrete, each crack sharp and final. Except… nothing happened. The bullets zipped past Orion harmlessly, as Natasha do it on purpose.

Orion stared at her, then down at himself, patting his chest and sides like a man checking his pockets for his wallet. “I’m not dead?” he said, his voice shaky with disbelief. “You’re crazy,” he snapped, his tone equal parts fury and confusion. “What the hell do you want from me?”

Natasha’s expression barely shifted. If anything, she looked bored. She lowered her weapon, than start offering Orion to join their avenger initiative. As a billionaire Orion have resource that could help the initiative progress further. Orion flatly rejected, but Natasha isn’t bothered, she stepped aside with an air of disinterest that made Orion feel like an annoying fly she’d decided wasn’t worth swatting. “It’s fine. You can go.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his mind racing to catch up. Finally, he muttered under his breath, “Crazy woman,” before scrambling back to his car. The engine roared to life, and he sped off into the night without a backward glance.