The Marvel Studios soundstage in New York was a cathedral of high-end technology and creative tension. The air was cool, filtered to perfection, and smelled of ozone and expensive espresso. Isabella stood in the center of the room, wearing a simple, skin-tight black tactical suit. No gadgets, no flashy logos—just her.
In front of her sat the "Big Three" of the Marvel Cinematic Universe's casting and production. They weren't just looking for an actress; they were looking for a rebirth. The new Black Widow series was meant to be a gritty, comic-accurate prequel, focusing on the psychological depth of a woman trained to be a weapon from childhood.
"Isabella," the head producer said, leaning forward. "We've seen the Paris footage. It's the reason you're here. But the 'Red Room' requires a level of emotional coldness that most people find impossible to reach. Can you show us the moment Natasha realizes she has no family left?"
Isabella didn't answer with words. She simply closed her eyes. Her 188 IQ went to work, compartmentalizing her memories of the Total Drama island, the betrayal of Owen, and the isolation of being a genius among fools. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't Isabella anymore. She was the Widow. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Her performance was so hauntingly silent, so filled with calculated grief, that one of the casting directors actually stopped breathing for a moment.
Then came the physical test. Isabella moved like a shadow. Her "Izzy" antics had always been a cover for her natural athleticism, but here, she was precise. A flurry of backflips, a simulated takedown of three stuntmen, and a perfect landing.
"My God," the producer whispered. "She's not just an actress. She's a masterpiece."
The Unexpected Twist
Just as the room was filled with a sense of awe, Marcus Thorne, Isabella's agent, stepped forward with a worried look.
"There's a problem," Thorne said, looking at a legal alert on his tablet. "Chris McLean's lawyers are filing a cease and desist. They're claiming Isabella is still under an exclusive 'eccentricity' contract. They want to block her from taking any serious roles for two years to protect the 'Total Drama' brand."
The Marvel executives sighed. "We love her, but we can't afford a legal war with McLean's insurance. If she's locked in, we have to move to the next candidate."
Isabella stood up, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. She didn't look worried. In fact, she looked like she was suppressed a laugh.
"Chris McLean is many things," Isabella said, her voice calm and melodic. "But he's not a lawyer. And he certainly didn't read the fine print of the documents I submitted before the season started."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, encrypted flash drive.
"While I was playing the 'crazy girl' in the Total Jumbo Jet, I spent my nights in the cockpit with Chef. He's the only one who knew I was hacking into the show's server during the flights. I didn't just find my contract. I found the 'Morality and Talent Release' clause that Chris himself signed while he was drunk in Celebrity Manhunt."
The executives gathered around the screen as Isabella plugged in the drive.
The Twist: Isabella hadn't just escaped; she had legally outmaneuvered the entire network before she even set foot in Paris.
"According to this document," Isabella explained, her eyes gleaming with 188-IQ brilliance, "any contestant who demonstrates a 'documented cognitive shift'—which my medical records from the plane's 'accident' technically classify as—is legally considered a 'New Entity.' In legal terms, 'Izzy' is a character that retired due to medical reasons. Isabella, the person standing before you, is a completely separate legal professional. I don't owe Chris a single cent. In fact..."
She scrolled down the document.
"...Because Chris broadcasted my private medical data (the brain scan) without a specialized waiver, he actually owes me 15% of the Total Drama World Tour's total revenue for breach of privacy."
The Marvel producers erupted into laughter and cheers. They weren't just hiring an actress; they were hiring the smartest woman in the industry.
"Isabella," the head of Marvel said, standing up and extending his hand. "Forget the screen test. The role is yours. And if McLean tries to sue you, our legal department will eat him for breakfast. Welcome to the MCU."
The Victory Lap
As Isabella walked out of the building, a massive crowd of fans was waiting. They weren't holding "Izzy" signs anymore. They were holding posters that said "ISABELLA: THE GENIUS."
Eva was there, leaning against a black SUV, a rare, genuine grin on her face.
"So?" Eva asked.
"I'm the Black Widow, Eva," Isabella said, handing her the signed contract.
"Good," Eva grunted, opening the car door. "By the way, you got a text. Noah managed to get a signal on the plane. He says Alejandro hasn't stopped shaking since you left, and Chris is throwing a tantrum because his lawyers just told him he's broke. Noah wants to know... if the Black Widow needs a head of research."
Isabella sat back in the plush leather seat, looking out at the New York skyline. For the first time in her life, she didn't have to act.
"Tell him to keep his head down and finish the season," Isabella smiled. "The sequel is going to be even better."