Marvel: I am the bastard son of stark (Remade)

The cool night air was alive with the subtle hum of a city that never truly slept. Tomura walked down the bustling streets of New York, his hood pulled low over his face, blending into the crowd of late-night wanderers. The events of the past few weeks weighed heavily on him, yet his resolve had never been stronger. Tonight was a rare moment of quiet—a time to reflect and prepare.

His destination was a modest clothes shop he'd scouted earlier, one that wouldn't ask too many questions. But as he passed a cosy little coffee shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lured him inside.

The shop was quiet, a handful of patrons scattered across its dimly lit interior. Tomura ordered a black coffee, preferring its bitterness to anything sweet. As he sat by the window, staring out at the glowing city lights, he felt it—a presence.

It wasn't just anyone. It was something different, something powerful.

His crimson eyes darted to the door as it opened. A tall man stepped in, his gait fluid yet imposing. He was broad-shouldered, with caramel skin that seemed to glisten faintly under the warm lights. His eyes were a piercing, unnatural blue, and his hair, tied into tight dreadlocks, gave him an air of regality.

Tomura's grip on his coffee cup tightened slightly. This man wasn't human—at least, not entirely.

The man, too, seemed to sense something. His gaze shifted toward Tomura, locking onto him like a predator recognising another apex predator. Without hesitation, he ordered his drink and walked over to Tomura's table, his every step exuding confidence.

"Mind if I join you?" the man asked, his deep voice smooth yet commanding.

Tomura said nothing at first, his sharp gaze assessing the man. Finally, he gestured to the empty chair across from him.

"Go ahead," Tomura replied, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

The man sat, placing his drink on the table. For a moment, neither spoke, the tension between them thick like the mist of a cold morning.

"You're not from here, are you?" the man said, breaking the silence. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were peering into Tomura's very soul.

"No," Tomura admitted, leaning back in his chair. "And you're not exactly local either, are you?"

The man smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "You could say that. Name's Poseidon."

Tomura's eyebrow twitched. The name was familiar, not from this world but from the myths and legends of his past life. He said nothing, though the corner of his mouth curled into a faint smirk.

"And you?" Poseidon asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

"Tomura," he said simply.

Poseidon studied him for a moment, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "You've got the look of someone who's been through hell. Yet here you are. Alive, breathing, plotting."

Tomura's eyes narrowed. "And you seem like someone who's more than he appears. What are you doing here?"

Poseidon leaned back, crossing his arms. "That's a complicated question. Let's just say I've been searching for something—or someone. I didn't expect to find… this." He gestured vaguely toward Tomura.

Tomura raised an eyebrow. "This?"

"A kindred spirit," Poseidon said. "Someone who doesn't belong but survives anyway. Someone who's seen the ugliness of the world and decided to do something about it."

Tomura's lips curled into a cold smile. "You think you know me?"

"No," Poseidon said, shaking his head. "But I know your kind. And I know power when I see it."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, the unspoken tension between them shifting into something more akin to understanding.

"Why are you really here?" Tomura asked finally.

Poseidon's gaze darkened. "That's a long story. Let's just say I've got unfinished business with the people who brought me into this world."

Tomura leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. "The Hand?"

Poseidon's eyes flickered with recognition, but he said nothing. His silence was answer enough.

Tomura nodded slowly. "We might have more in common than I thought."

Poseidon chuckled softly, the sound low and almost predatory. "Then maybe this meeting isn't just coincidence."

The two men sat there for a while longer, sipping their coffee and speaking in half-truths. By the time Tomura left the shop, he knew one thing for certain: Poseidon was dangerous, but he was also useful. And in a world full of enemies, a useful ally was worth keeping close.

As Poseidon watched Tomura disappear into the night, a faint smile played on his lips. "This is going to be interesting," he murmured to himself before finishing his drink and stepping back out into the bustling streets.