Natasha watched him go, her sharp eyes following the red taillights until they disappeared. She turned and headed into the woods, confident in her assessment. Orion wasn’t superhuman. If he had powers, he would’ve used them instinctively when faced with her gunfire.

Still, a nagging feeling lingered. Could he be hiding something? Maybe. But for now, her gut told her he was just a rich guy caught in the wrong spotlight. She hopped onto her motorcycle, the engine growling to life as she rode off into the night.

Half an hour later, her comm buzzed with an incoming message from Nick Fury. “What happened with Orion Voss?” Fury’s voice was sharp, straight to the point.

“Nothing to worry about,” Natasha replied without hesitation. “I tested him. He’s not a superhuman.”

“You’re sure?” Fury asked, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

“Yes. He’s just a normal guy,” she said, her confidence unwavering.

“Fine,” Fury replied, though there was a faint edge of disappointment in his voice. “You’re off his case. We’ll handle it from here.”

Natasha didn’t ask for details. She knew Fury well enough to know he wasn’t about to share. SHIELD’s top priority was keeping the world from descending into chaos, and Fury was always two steps ahead, already considering contingencies for the unthinkable.

Meanwhile, Orion was blissfully unaware of how close he’d come to being dragged into SHIELD’s web of spies and supernatural chaos. He drove home, shaking off the encounter as just another strange chapter in his otherwise cushy life.

Back at his New York villa, he slipped into his sanctuary—a sprawling mansion stocked with every comfort money could buy. For the next few days, he fully embraced his “normal” life: gorging on pizza, steaks, pork chops—anything rich in calories and his special diet a piece of metal.

Orion's stomach churned as he forced himself to swallow. The metallic tang on his tongue was a lingering reminder of the bizarre meal he'd just consumed. The sharp scent of iron and steel clung to the air, making him gag, but he pushed past it. This wasn’t a culinary choice; it was survival. Energy didn’t come cheap, and the only way to gain them was by enduring things most wouldn’t dream of. He figured greatness probably tasted awful anyway.

In the months of self-imposed isolation, Orion had made some big moves. For starters, he’d sold off his shares in Stark Industries—one of his many “brilliant” financial decisions. Then, in true modern style, he spent way too much time on the dark web. That’s where he stumbled on some juicy news: Tony Stark’s bounty had been claimed. This only meant one thing—Iron Man was about to make his grand debut. Cue the chaos, explosions, and an unhealthy amount of red-and-gold merchandise.

This was it—the first domino in Marvel’s cinematic parade. Orion wasn’t about to mess with such a pivotal moment. It wasn’t just tempting fate; it was like poking a cosmic bear with a stick. He’d decided to sit back and let the timeline reveal itself. If Stark survived his cave-building epiphany and turned into the snarky savior everyone loved, then Orion could relax knowing this was the universe. The main stage. But if Stark didn’t make it, well, welcome to Earth-Insert-Random-Number. In that case, Orion had backup plans: team up with the discount Avengers, unlock some crazy Avatar, and carve out his own path to glory.

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Whether this world was prime or parallel, Orion felt prepared. He had goals. Big ones. Avatars like Void Terror or Void Walker danced in his dreams, their powers practically calling to him. But until the verdict was in, he kept himself busy.

And by busy, he meant eating like a bottomless pit. His daily routine had evolved into five meals fit for a village, followed by intense training sessions. In just a month, Orion had gained eighteen levels. Eighteen. That was more than some game characters achieved in a year. His offensive skills were already top-tier, so now he focused on turning himself into a walking fortress. His body had become a marvel of resilience, capable of withstanding the kind of punishment that would turn lesser beings into jelly.

Take his recent trip to the Pacific Ocean, for instance. He’d tested his limits by strolling along the seabed like it was a casual beach day. The crushing pressure? Child’s play. Breathing underwater? Been there, done that—six times over. Sure, some of these evolutions seemed like overkill now, but he knew they’d come in handy eventually. Evolution was a long game, and Orion was nothing if not patient.

One afternoon, lounging on his couch with a bag of chips, he flipped on the news. Most of it was the usual doom and gloom, but then something caught his attention. “Breaking news: Tony Stark, missing for over three months, has returned to New York. Stark Industries is expected to hold a press conference shortly.”

Orion smirked, tossing a chip in the air and catching it with ease. ‘Showtime,’ he thought. While some might’ve seen this as an opportunity to short Stark Industries stock, Orion had bigger plans. He was going to buy it up later—when the time was perfect. Wall Street could wait.

Grabbing the keys to his latest Maserati, he slid into the driver’s seat and took off. The streets of New York were their usual chaotic self, complete with honking horns, shattering glass, and the occasional distant gunshot. Orion navigated it all with a mix of precision and nonchalance. After all, when you’ve evolved eighteen times, rush hour traffic doesn’t feel that intimidating.

He arrived at the venue just as reporters and curious onlookers began to swarm. Stepping out of his car, Orion adjusted his blazer, the epitome of casual wealth. Heads turned. Being one of New York’s richest men came with its perks—and its drawbacks. “Mr. Orion Voss! I’m with Origin Technology. Could I have a moment of your time?” A man in an impeccable suit and glasses approached him, all smiles and handshakes.

Orion raised an eyebrow, giving the man a once-over. “Look, if you’re here to pitch some investment opportunity, save it. Come back when you’ve got something bigger—maybe a planet or two.”

The man blinked, startled but quick to recover. “Understood, sir. Thank you for your time.”

With that, Orion brushed past him, making his way inside. The reporters, ever the opportunists, swarmed like bees.“Mr. Voss, do you know Tony Stark personally?” one of them shouted, her camera already rolling.

“Never met the guy,” Orion said with a practiced grin. “But hey, he’s richer than me, so I wouldn’t mind a chat.”

“Does that mean you’re planning to invest in Stark Industries?” another reporter chimed in.

Orion shrugged, his tone nonchalant. “Maybe. Depends on my mood—and the market.”

He continued walking, leaving the reporters buzzing with speculation. Inside, the energy was palpable. Everyone knew this wasn’t just a press conference—it was history in the making. Orion found a quiet corner and leaned against the wall, watching the stage with a small, knowing smile.