Ultimate DMC Sytem In Marvel

Alex stepped out into the morning light, the cool air brushing against his skin. He zipped up his jacket, pulled the hood over his head, and made his way through the busy streets.

Today, he wasn't heading toward battle.

Today, he was going to see Colleen.

He took the familiar route toward her dojo, the one nestled behind the quaint tea shop in Chinatown. The wooden door, engraved with her name and a faded dragon sigil, stood slightly ajar this time—laughter and rhythmic footsteps echoing from within.

As Alex approached, he noticed something different.

The dojo was full.

Inside, several students moved in formation—young adults, a few teenagers, and even a couple of older folks. Colleen stood at the center, calm and commanding. Her white training uniform contrasted against the warm wood floor, her posture elegant but firm.

She turned at the sound of the door opening and offered a brief smile when she saw him.

"Alex," she said, wiping her hands on a towel before handing instruction off to one of the senior students. "Didn't expect to see you so soon."

"Didn't plan on staying away long," he replied, stepping inside and bowing slightly out of habit. "Didn't want you to think I only show up when things go to hell."

Colleen smirked. "That's the usual timing for people like us."

He glanced around. "Looks like you've got a full house."

Hearing him, Colleen rolled her eyes and said, "Last time you showed up, it was evening and I had just closed the dojo—so you didn't see this. But yeah, it's usually packed like this."

Alex nodded, taking in the lively energy of the room.

Many of her students stole glances at him—some curious, others whispering quietly among themselves. A few of the younger ones, clearly harboring crushes on Colleen, eyed Alex with suspicion, wondering if he might be her boyfriend.

Some tried to casually get closer, gauging the tension or connection between them. A few of the more competitive students even considered challenging Alex, curious to test the strength of the stranger who seemed to be on such familiar terms with their teacher.

Alex noticed the attention but said nothing. He just smirked faintly to himself, folding his arms as he watched the lesson unfold.

"You came at an inconvenient time," Colleen said with a teasing wink, "but if you want another date, you might have to wait."

Alex grinned, playing along. "Of course, my love," he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

Colleen snorted and shook her head, turning away with a smile as she moved back to instruct the others.

Several students, especially those nursing quiet crushes on her, were not so composed. Some looked heartbroken, others visibly clenched their fists or grit their teeth. A few glared daggers at Alex, as if he'd just stolen something precious from them.

Alex caught their looks, and with an amused smirk, leaned casually against the wall—completely unfazed.

He wasn't here to make enemies.

But if he did?

Well… he could handle a few bruised egos.

Colleen moved gracefully across the dojo floor, shifting into instructor mode as she guided her students through their next drills. Her presence was sharp yet calming—like a blade wrapped in silk. Alex watched from the side, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe as the room moved like a tide of controlled motion.

Some students sneaked glances at him between stances and strikes. A few whispered among themselves, clearly still ruffled by his presence and Colleen's casual comfort around him. One particularly bold student, a tall guy with a sharp jawline and a bruised ego, locked eyes with Alex.

"You here to train," he asked, voice carrying a challenge, "or just to hang around and flirt?"

Alex smiled slowly. "Why? You jealous I get both?"

The student scowled and was about to step forward when Colleen raised a hand without even looking.

"Enough, Kenji."

She didn't stop her pacing but her voice was firm. "Focus on your breathing. Your strikes are shallow."

Kenji backed down, gritting his teeth. Alex gave him a mock salute before walking further into the dojo, casually slipping off his shoes.

"Mind if I join in?" Alex asked, stretching his shoulders.

"Are you here only to join?" Colleen replied with a raised eyebrow.

Alex shrugged. "I'm getting bored. Might as well watch and try out your training."

She nodded, half-smiling, and Alex casually stepped into the line—of course, right at the front.

As Colleen continued to instruct, she couldn't help but feel a soft blush creep across her cheeks. She could feel Alex's eyes on her the entire time—focused on her movements, yes, but occasionally lingering in places that made her painfully aware of her form.

Other times, when others had stared at her chest, even one sharp glare from her was enough to make them quickly avert their eyes. But Alex? He didn't even try to hide it.

And for some reason… she didn't mind it.

Damn it. Am I really into this stupid, smug guy? she thought, annoyed with herself. Why do I not hate this? What's wrong with me?

Still, she carried on with the lesson, though her voice occasionally hitched, and her instructions came just a bit faster than usual. Alex, of course, noticed—but said nothing.

The tension simmered quietly between them, like sparks waiting for kindling.

After a few rounds of drills, Colleen clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Pair off. One-on-one sparring. Light contact—focus on technique, not power."

As the students began to find partners, Alex remained where he was, arms crossed casually. He didn't move. Didn't need to.

Colleen narrowed her eyes. "You waiting for an invitation?"

He smirked. "Figured I'd let you decide. You are the boss here."

A few of the younger students looked between the two with wide eyes, the tension almost visible in the air. Colleen sighed, brushing her hair back as she stepped into the center.

"Fine. You and me. Don't go easy just because I'm the instructor."

Alex stepped forward, already dropping into a loose, but deceptively refined stance. "Don't worry. I'll pretend you're someone I'm not sleeping with… yet."

A few of the students gasped or groaned. One actually choked on his water bottle.

Colleen rolled her eyes and lunged.

Their sparring was fast. Fluid. Sharp.

Alex parried her strikes with casual grace, using minimal effort to deflect her attacks, while Colleen moved with deadly precision—her style crisp, honed from years of practice. Each time she struck, he blocked. Each time he countered, she dodged.

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