Marvel: The saiyan

One month later, the glow of the Malibu sun illuminated Stark's cliffside mansion. A subtle ocean breeze wafted through the air as Shallot stood on the lawn, fiddling with a small device in his hands—a green, visor-like contraption he hadn't touched in months.

Shallot had made big changes over the past month. First, he'd officially retired from MMA. While the fame and fortune had been entertaining for a while, the thrill of facing weaker opponents had grown stale. Not to mention, the risk of people discovering the full extent of his powers was too high. He had quietly paid off what he needed to in order to erase his name from the spotlight. Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. could still access the information, but to the general public, Shallot had become a ghost. Forgotten. Just how he wanted it.

Of course, people still wondered who had fought with the Iron Monger suit, but somehow no one traced it back to him. Well, I guess I owe Fury a thanks for that, Shallot thought.

Now, his focus was entirely on Stark—and what a transformation Tony had undergone. In one month, Tony had gone from an out-of-shape playboy to a man who wouldn't look out of place in a Renaissance sculpture gallery. His body, sculpted by Shallot's brutal training regimen, had taken on the lean, muscular definition of a Greek god. It was a metamorphosis that no amount of tech could have created.

Today, though, Shallot had something different planned.

He stood in the middle of the lawn, waiting as Tony approached from the workshop in the distance. The billionaire wore a loose tank top, sweatpants, and a cocky grin. From the faint glisten of sweat on his skin, it was clear he had been warming up, already bracing himself for another hellish day of training.

But Tony's grin faltered slightly as he noticed the green visor Shallot had strapped over his left eye. The small device beeped faintly, flickering with dim lights as Shallot turned it on.

Tony tilted his head, intrigued. "What's that?" he asked, nodding toward the strange tech.

Shallot didn't respond immediately. Instead, he adjusted the scouter, its screen glowing faintly as he focused on Tony. The device beeped quietly, its sensors scanning Stark's form from head to toe.

Tony raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "Okay, seriously, what is that? Is it another alien gizmo? Some kind of fashion statement? Because if it is, I've gotta say, it's not really working for you."

Shallot ignored the comment, his eyes narrowing slightly as the scouter emitted a loud BEEP. Finally, he removed it, glancing down at the readout.

"Fifteen," Shallot said flatly, his tone tinged with disappointment.

Tony blinked, momentarily confused. "Fifteen? What's fifteen? Are you rating my looks now? Because I'll have you know, I'm at least an eleven out of ten."

"Fifteen is your power level," Shallot explained, his voice carrying a faint edge of frustration. "And it's pathetic."

Tony's smirk returned, though it was tinged with amusement. "Fifteen's not bad, right? I mean, it sounds pretty high. Out of what, twenty? Thirty? Maybe fifty?"

Shallot's tail flicked behind him, his expression deadpan. "It's out of infinity, Stark."

Shallot paused for a moment, his gaze growing distant as a thought struck him. He remembered his own first contact with ki. For him, it had been instinctual—his body already knew how to tap into it. From what he knew of Dragon Ball, ki was the energy of life that flowed through everything. But in that world, most humans had ki yet were unaware of it, while aliens didn't know specifically what ki was yet still managed to use it instinctively. Perhaps, he thought, battle power is simply the scouter detecting how much ki someone has at their disposal—the energy they emit.

"Hey! Snap out of it!" Tony's voice cut through Shallot's musings, snapping him back to the present.

Shallot blinked and turned his attention back to Tony, who stood before him, arms crossed, looking both annoyed and curious. "Care to tell me why I'm trash?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shallot smirked, shaking his head. "Well, you're gonna find out tomorrow. For now, let's eat. And tomorrow, I'll teach you something you'll feel grateful for… forever."

Tony tilted his head, eyeing Shallot suspiciously, but Shallot simply turned and headed toward the mansion with a knowing smile.

Tony and Shallot stepped into the mansion, where the aroma of freshly delivered food hit them like a tidal wave. The dining table was covered with mountains of takeout containers, enough to feed a small army—or one Saiyan. Almost 80 percent of the food was clearly meant for Shallot alone, towering stacks of steaming rice, noodles, grilled meats, and sides piled high. The remaining 20 percent was for Tony, Pepper, and the occasional visit from Rhodes or Happy.

Pepper stood at the head of the table, her arms crossed but a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She watched as Shallot's tail twitched with excitement at the sight of the feast. Tony immediately made his way to the smaller portion of food allocated for him, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"Are we sure this isn't a catering setup for a wedding?" Tony quipped, gesturing to the enormous spread. "Because I'm starting to feel like the smallest guy in the room—and I don't say that often."

"Hey, I'm a growing Saiyan," Shallot said, grabbing a plate and immediately loading it with a comical amount of food. His movements were efficient, almost mechanical, as though he had practiced the art of eating as seriously as he practiced combat. "You've seen what I burn off in training. This is just maintenance."

Pepper laughed softly as she set down a glass of water in front of Tony. "Well, Shallot, I really need to thank you," she said, her tone warm but teasing. "Whatever you've been doing with Tony, it's working. He's… well, he's not the same man he was before."

She gestured at Tony, her eyes sweeping over his noticeably leaner, more muscular frame. His shoulders had broadened, his posture was stronger, and there was a spark of discipline in his eyes that hadn't been there before. For all his sarcasm and bravado, Tony Stark looked like a man who had found a new sense of purpose.

Tony, ever the comedian, put a hand to his chest and feigned offense. "Wow, Pep. You make it sound like I was some kind of slob before. I'll have you know I was always a ten out of ten."

"Oh, you were," Pepper replied, smirking as she took a seat across from him. "But now you're… I don't know. A solid eleven. Maybe even a twelve, on a good day."

Shallot, sitting down with a plate that looked more like a buffet tray, raised an eyebrow as he dug into his food. "She's being nice, Stark. The truth is, you were a slob. It took me weeks just to get you into basic shape. You're welcome."

Tony shot Shallot a mock glare but said nothing, instead shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth with exaggerated defiance.

"Either way," Pepper continued, her tone softening as she looked back at Shallot, "I really mean it. Thank you. For everything. I don't know how you've managed it, but you've done something I didn't think was possible."

Shallot paused mid-bite, glancing up at her. "Oh? And what's that?"

"You've made him a better man," she said simply, her voice sincere. "More focused. More grounded. And a little less reckless… though I know that's probably temporary."

Tony swallowed his food and pointed his fork at her. "Hey, let's not get carried away. I'm still me."

"And that's the problem," Pepper teased, earning a chuckle from Shallot. "But seriously, Shallot, I've seen the way he's changed since you started working with him. He's… different. In a good way."

Shallot leaned back in his chair, his tail curling lazily behind him as he considered her words. "Well," he said, his tone casual, "I'd like to take all the credit, but the truth is, Stark's got it in him. He just needed someone to kick his ass a little."

Tony raised his glass in a mock toast. "And boy, does he kick hard."

Pepper smiled, her gaze flicking between the two of them. "Still, I appreciate it. I don't think Tony's ever had someone push him like you do."

"That's because most people are afraid to," Shallot said, shrugging. "But don't get me wrong—he pushes back. I'd call it a love-hate relationship."

Tony smirked. "Heavy on the hate."

Shallot grinned, tossing a piece of grilled chicken into his mouth. "You love me, and you know it."

As they ate, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—Pepper filling them in on upcoming meetings and events, Tony cracking jokes about his latest modifications to the Mark III, and Shallot chiming in with his dry humor. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost familial, and for a moment, the chaos of the past few months felt like a distant memory.

Just as Tony was finishing his meal, the sound of the front door opening caught their attention. Moments later, Happy Hogan stepped into the room, followed closely by James Rhodes. Rhodes had his usual no-nonsense expression, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he surveyed the group.

"Well, if it isn't the world's weirdest training duo," Rhodes said, nodding at Tony and Shallot. "What are you guys up to now? Bench pressing cars? Running marathons ?"

"Not today," Shallot replied, leaning back in his chair. "Today's a rest day. Even warriors need to eat."

Happy stepped closer, glancing at the enormous spread of food. "Is this all for you, Shallot? You could feed half of New York with this."

"Don't tempt me," Shallot said, smirking as he grabbed another plate.

Rhodes pulled up a chair, his gaze settling on Tony. "You're looking good, man. Guess the training's working, huh?"

Tony grinned, flexing one arm exaggeratedly. "Oh, it's working, alright."

The next day,

The early morning air on the private beach was crisp and cool, with the sun still climbing over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the waves. Tony sat on a weathered wooden bench near the shore, the sound of crashing waves providing a serene backdrop. He wore a pair of athletic shorts and a fitted black tank top, his usual smug grin replaced by a look of curiosity as he waited for Shallot.

When Shallot arrived, Tony immediately noticed he looked… different. Instead of his usual battle-ready attire, Shallot wore loose white pants and an ample white shirt, the fabric flowing slightly in the morning breeze. He looked a bit worn out, as though he hadn't gotten much sleep, but his expression was calm and focused.

"Look at you," Tony called out, gesturing to Shallot's outfit. "All zen master-y today. What's the occasion? You joining a yoga retreat?"

Shallot ignored the jab, walking barefoot across the sand with a measured pace. "Let's just say I'm dressing the part," he replied, his voice steady but carrying a faint edge of tiredness. He stopped a few feet in front of Tony and crossed his arms, his tail lazily swaying behind him.

Tony raised an eyebrow, his curiosity growing. "Alright, so what's the plan today, sensei? More burpees? A swim in freezing water? Or am I running up and down this beach until I collapse?"

Shallot shook his head, his gaze sharp as it locked onto Tony's. "No training today," he said simply. "Today, I'm teaching you something more important. Something that could change everything if you take it seriously."

Tony leaned back slightly, his usual sarcasm slipping into a more cautious tone. "Change everything, huh? Alright, color me intrigued."

Shallot nodded and gestured to the sand. "Sit."

Tony hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs. "This isn't going to end with me doing some weird chant, is it? Because I draw the line at singing kumbaya."

Shallot smirked faintly as he sat down across from Tony, mirroring his position. "No chanting. No singing. But you're going to need to listen carefully, Stark."

Shallot clasped his hands together, his black eyes locking onto Tony's. "Ki, Stark, is the energy that flows through every living thing. It's the life force, the power that allows me to fly, fire blasts, and—frankly—do everything you think is impossible."

Tony rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued, though his expression remained skeptical. "Life force, huh? Sounds like something straight out of Kung Fu Hustle. Let me guess, the next thing you're going to tell me is that I need to shave my head and wear orange robes."

Shallot smirked, leaning forward slightly. "No, but I wouldn't rule out some meditation. And maybe fewer wisecracks."

Tony grinned. "Sorry, Sensei, no promises on that."

Shallot sighed, though the faintest hint of amusement tugged at his lips. He could already tell that teaching Tony the fundamentals of ki control was going to be a test of patience, but he was prepared. After all, Shallot had stayed up most of the night fine-tuning his approach to ensure Stark would succeed.

"Alright," Shallot began, his tone firm but calm, "if you want to tap into your ki, the first thing you need to do is focus. This isn't something you can brute-force your way through. No tech, no shortcuts, no distractions. Just you, your body, and your mind."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly the 'zen' type, Shallot. My mind is usually running a mile a minute. You're asking a guy who practically invented multitasking to... what? Sit here and feel something?"

"Yes," Shallot said bluntly, not letting Tony's sarcasm derail the lesson. "Now, sit up straight. Close your eyes."

Tony tilted his head, clearly not convinced. "Close my eyes? What are you going to do, hypnotize me?"

"No," Shallot replied, narrowing his eyes. "But if you don't take this seriously, I'll slap you across the beach so hard you'll leave an imprint in the sand."

Tony held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. No need to get violent." He shifted his posture, sitting straighter and closing his eyes, though his smirk suggested he still wasn't fully buying into this.

Shallot observed him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Now breathe."

Tony scoffed, eyes still closed. "I already know how to breathe. Been doing it since birth, thanks."

Shallot resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Not like this, you don't. I want you to take slow, deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on the rhythm. Clear your head."

Tony let out an exaggerated sigh but complied, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling slowly. After a few moments, the humor in his expression began to fade as he settled into the steady cadence of his breathing.

"Good," Shallot said, his voice softer now. "Now, I want you to imagine a light at the center of your body. Right around here." He tapped his own stomach, just below the ribcage. "That's where your ki resides. It's small right now, maybe just a flicker, but it's there. Focus on that light. Feel it."

Tony's brow furrowed, his face growing more serious as he followed Shallot's instructions. Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the gentle crash of waves against the shore.

Finally, Tony spoke, his tone edged with frustration. "I don't feel anything. No flicker, no light, no mystical energy. Just me sitting here like a jackass."

Shallot sighed quietly. He had expected this. Unlike him, who had instinctively accessed his ki due to his Saiyan biology, humans needed to be nudged—sometimes literally—into awareness. That's why Shallot had devised a plan during his sleepless night.

"Alright," Shallot said, standing up and stepping behind Tony. "This part might feel... strange. But it'll help you understand what you're looking for."

Tony cracked one eye open, peering up at him. "Strange how? You're not about to give me a back massage, are you? Because—"

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Shallot placed one hand firmly on Tony's back, just between the shoulder blades, and the other on his upper chest. Tony stiffened at the sudden contact.

"Shut up and stay still," Shallot said, his tone firm. "I'm going to transfer a little of my ki into your body. Just enough for you to feel what it's like. Once you recognize the sensation, you'll know what to look for."

Tony frowned but didn't argue. "Alright, but if I suddenly explode, you're cleaning it up."

Shallot smirked faintly. "If you explode, I'll just tell Pepper it was your idea."

With that, Shallot closed his eyes and focused, summoning a small, controlled amount of ki to his hands. His energy flared faintly, a soft golden glow emanating from his palms. Carefully, he channeled the ki into Tony's body, keeping it at a low intensity to avoid overwhelming him.

Tony's eyes shot open as the energy coursed through him, his body tensing involuntarily. "Whoa—what the hell is—"

"Relax," Shallot interrupted. "Just breathe. Let it flow through you."

Tony swallowed hard, his mind racing as the sensation spread. It wasn't painful, but it was... strange. Like a warm current of electricity humming beneath his skin. He could feel it radiating outward from his core, pulsing faintly with each beat of his heart.

"That," Shallot said, his voice steady, "is ki. My ki. Feel it, Stark. Remember what it's like. Because now, I want you to find your own."

Tony's breathing was shallow, his eyes wide as he processed the alien sensation. Slowly, though, he began to relax, his breaths evening out as he focused on the warmth in his chest. Shallot removed his hands, stepping back to observe.

"Close your eyes again," Shallot instructed. "Now that you know what ki feels like, it should be easier to find your own. It's there—just beneath the surface. Draw it out."

Tony hesitated for a moment, then closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration. He took slow, deliberate breaths, his mind zeroing in on the faint echo of the energy Shallot had left behind.

Minutes passed, and Shallot watched in silence as Tony's body tensed slightly. Then, almost imperceptibly, a faint glow began to emanate from Tony's chest—barely visible, but unmistakable.

"There it is," Shallot said quietly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Keep going."

Tony's face twisted in effort as he focused harder, the glow intensifying slightly. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, but he didn't falter. Finally, with a deep exhale, the faint light grew steady, radiating softly from his core.

Tony opened his eyes, staring down at his hands in awe. "Holy... I did it. I actually did it."

Shallot nodded, a rare note of approval in his voice. "Not bad, Stark. Not bad at all."

Tony looked up at him, his expression a mixture of exhilaration and disbelief. "This... this is incredible. I feel... I don't even know how to describe it. Lighter? Stronger?"

"That's ki," Shallot said simply. He reached for the scouter hanging from his belt and strapped it back over his left eye. The device beeped as it scanned Tony, the readout flickering on the screen.

"Power level: ninety," Shallot announced, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

Tony grinned, his cocky demeanor returning in full force. "Ninety, huh? That sounds way better than fifteen."

Shallot smirked. "It's a start. But don't get too comfortable. You've barely scratched the surface."

Tony stood up, flexing his fingers as he marveled at the faint energy still coursing through him. "Oh, I'm just getting started, Sensei. Watch out—Tony Stark with ki? The world isn't ready."

Shallot chuckled, crossing his arms. "Let's see if you can keep up, Stark. Because from now on, the real training begins."

Shallot called off training for the day, deciding both he and Stark needed a break—though for different reasons. Stark returned to his mansion, retreating to his workshop. Sitting in the familiar glow of his machines, he carefully removed his arc reactor, unscrewing a small plate with practiced hands. He stared at the device in silence, its faint light reflecting the weariness in his eyes. "The toxicity… it's only going to increase," he thought grimly, his expression clouded with defeat.

Meanwhile, Shallot headed home, his exhaustion weighing heavily on him. He hadn't slept the previous night, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Stark's training and other matters. Today, however, he resolved to rest. Training could wait.

As Shallot approached his house, his ki sense suddenly chimed in. Though detecting low energy sources from far away was difficult, any presence near him was impossible to miss—and there were several. One was inside his home, while others lingered in the forest surrounding it.

Sliding his key into the door, Shallot maintained his usual nonchalant demeanor, though irritation bubbled beneath the surface. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his sharp eyes landing on the intruder seated comfortably on his sofa.

Nick Fury.

Shallot let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "Haaa… Tsk, tsk, tsk. What are you doing in my house?" he asked, his tone sharp and his expression serious.

Fury, still seated on the sofa, met Shallot's gaze without flinching. "We've been observing you and Stark," he said evenly. "It seems you're teaching him something… interesting. But that's a conversation for another time. For now, I've been lenient with you. We don't know why you're here on this planet. A Saiyan—we've never heard of it. So, I'll ask you directly: What is your goal?"

Shallot couldn't help but be impressed—and mildly irritated—by Fury's sheer arrogance. After a brief pause, he chuckled darkly. "Haha… Nick, you've got some balls walking into my house, sitting on my sofa, and questioning me." His tone dropped, and a fierce intensity burned in his eyes. "Listen. I'm not Stark. If you pull something like this again, I'll pluck your eye out." His presence pressed down on Fury like a physical weight.

Suddenly, dozens of red laser sights appeared, all trained on Shallot's body.

"No need," Fury said calmly, raising a hand to signal his agents. "He's right."

Shallot held Fury's gaze for a moment longer, then leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "As I've already told you, I have no interest in causing trouble on this planet. And I have no obligation to explain why I'm here. But if you must know, I didn't plan on ending up on Earth. It wasn't my destination. I just… happened to get stuck here. Now, I have no intention of leaving. It's actually quite pleasant."

'Of course,' Shallot thought privately, 'that's complete bullshit. Like I'm going to tell him I reincarnated and just wound up here.'

Fury studied Shallot for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Even if that's true, I can't just leave you here unchecked. I'll need some kind of guarantee."

Shallot raised an eyebrow, pondering the request. "What kind of guarantee?"

"How about assigning an agent to you?" Fury suggested.

Shallot considered this, weighing the implications. As long as the agent wasn't affiliated with Hydra, it was a reasonable compromise, especially given Fury's wariness.

"Alright," Shallot said finally. "But I'll accept on one condition."

"And what's that?" Fury asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I want every microchip and camera you've installed in this house removed. All of it."

"It'll be done," Fury agreed with a wave of his hand. Immediately, his agents entered, working swiftly to dismantle and remove their surveillance devices. Once they finished, Fury turned to the doorway and called out, "Agent Romanoff!"