Back to Gatefold
Issue #1 by D. Golightly
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"Balance - Part One"
“Sweet Christmas!”
A searing beam of yellow and white energy slammed into the sidewalk, cutting through the flat concrete like it was nothing more than tin foil. The blast quickly dissipated, revealing a scorched and blackened crater where a man had just been standing.
That man, a bulky black hero that went by the moniker of Luke Cage, ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t used to dodging attacks like that. His steel-hard skin usually put the kibosh on whatever was trying to do him harm. His shredded shirt and scarred chest, however, was evidence that his limited invulnerability was not going to be enough this time around.
He ran his hand over his bald head, now cleanly shaven from how he usually styled it. He had undergone many changes in the last few months, deciding that a new look would help give him a fresh start. Not that his new appearance was deceiving the person trying to kill him at the moment.
“With a name like the Eel,” Cage said, “I kind of figured on you being more of a pushover. Least that’s how I remember you.”
The colorful Eel growled as he unleashed another pinpointed electrical discharge at the original hired hero. The shocking power, easily double what the villain had once been capable of, burned down a street lamp, turning it into melted slag in seconds.
His suit, the source of his powerful electrical blasts, must have been modified somehow. The world was growing increasingly more chaotic, with the bad guys getting better and better tech. It used to be that Cage could shrug off this joke of a villain and walk right through his attacks without a second thought. Now he needed to think at least three or four thoughts ahead or else he would be fried on the spot.
Chicago in general had become a permanent danger zone. It was both good and bad for Cage. Good because it meant an increase in his business ventures and more revenue. Bad because he was getting worn down pretty thin, very quickly.
The Eel had broken into a pharmaceutical warehouse, which Cage had been hired to guard. This was one of his retainer clients, which meant that when the executives had received a bold threat from a disgruntled employee, he had been called into play. The threat turned out to be very real, with the employee hiring a known mercenary to burn the storage facility and destroy every trace of the experimental drug housed inside.
Another blast, forcing Cage to duck behind the sign by the entrance to the facility. The fight had started before the Eel had managed to get inside the building, and Cage had quickly angled him out toward the street in an attempt to put a little distance between the Eel and his target.
Cage ripped the remains of his tattered shirt off his burly chest and said, “Enough is enough. This fool is toast.”
He reached down, picked up a 200 lbs manhole cover with ease from where it was embedded in the street, and cracked his neck. Bending his legs slightly, Luke Cage quickly shot up into the air, his amazing strength catapulting him skyward. The Eel fired random arcs of searing electricity wildly, taken aback at the now high-flying Luke Cage. Cage whipped his arm around as he descended, hurling the manhole cover at the villain.
The plate slammed into his stomach, forcing the Eel to double over and be punched down into the ground. The small lawn outside the warehouse was now a burnt patchwork of grass and dirt. The Eel lay unconscious in the center of the war zone, smoke billowing up from his overcharged costume.
Cage landed a few yards away from him, content that the bad guy was taken care of and that he had earned another paycheck. The damage to the building wasn’t that horrible, considering that the Eel’s overall goal was to burn every trace of the contents inside. In fact, the only real loss was Cage’s shirt, which had been one of his favorites.
Sirens in the distance. He would have some explaining to do to the cops, and being an ex-con he really hated having that conversation over and over again. Danny was always better at dealing with the police.
But he had no clue where Danny Rand even was these days. His best friend had left Chicago after saving his life and he hadn’t heard from him since. That was six months ago.
It was a question that nagged at Luke Cage virtually every day: Where was Danny Rand?
# # # # #
Danny hated the swamp. It was cold, dark, and wet. Creatures slithered by that he could not directly account for other than a flicker in the stream near his feet. It was irritating that he had to be here. He would much rather by in the arms of Misty Knight.
He quickly shook his head. No, Misty wouldn’t have anything to do with him these days. Not after the mess that boiled over while he was still with the Heroes For Hire. He suddenly missed his friends, but knew that he had to be here, in this wretched place, if he wanted to save his life.
Vines, moss, and exotic flowers coated the landscape. He had long ago stopped trying to force his way through the thick foliage, instead opting to just pass through whatever way he could. He ducked underneath a thick tree branch that was covered in a slimy, greenish goo, wishing that he could be anywhere else.
But this is where Dr. Stephan Strange had instructed him to go. The Sorcerer Supreme, while an expert in all things magical, mystical, and mythical, had been unable to determine what was wrong with his chi. Ever since he had bonded with the fantastic Blade of the Dragon from K’un Lun his powers had been out of whack.*
* [Danny retrieved the sword from Chiantang’s stronghold in H4H #10, and then sought Dr. Strange’s help at the end of MAX 2000 #25]
The good doctor had coldly informed him that if he did not find a balance to restore his chi, or somehow separate himself from the sword, that it would eat away at his very spirit. The sword had been developed in K’un Lun to aid in the Iron Fist technique, however the masters that had designed the sword never mastered it. It was considered too powerful to wield, and Danny could feel it pulling at his chi every day.
So, even though Strange couldn’t help him, he had directed him to a swamp in the pits of the everglades. He was told that he balance he sought could be found in this bizarre place. Although, so far the only things Danny had found were bugs. Lots of bugs.
He wore a hiking backpack, jeans, and a long sleeve t-shirt that had done little to protect his arms. His green and yellow costume was folded into the pack, along with supplies for the journey. At his side clung a machete, although it didn’t help as much as he thought it would when making the trek through the dense jungle-life swamp.
“This is pointless,” he muttered. “I don’t even know where the hell I’m going.”
Even though he was lost, and losing hope quickly, he couldn’t deny that there was something about this place that pulled at him. He trusted Strange’s judgment, even if the elder magician was a little secretive at times.
The sun was lowering, stealing away what little light was available to navigate by. Danny hopped onto a tree root that was as wide as a Buick, getting his soggy feet out of the marshy terrain. He slipped off his pack and prepared to make camp. He had been wandering for three days and knew better than to try and travel after the sun went down.
He yanked a protein bar out of the pack and began to gnaw on it as the last rays of the glistening sun pilfered his retinas. He turned away to shield his eyes, but after a moment, realized that the sun had gone down but the glowing was still trying to blind him.
He turned to see varying shades of color from behind the tree line, mixing and dancing like an orchestra of light. The protein bar hung in his mouth as he slowly stood up, transfixed by the rainbow medley.
A burst of lightning shot through the swamp, jutting back and forth between the hanging vines, careful not to touch any of the plant life. It stabbed into Danny’s right forearm, slicing through his skin and latching onto his body and soul.
He screamed, and then vanished. The protein bar fell into the murky swamp, disappearing beneath the dark waters.
From the shadows, a moss-covered behemoth watched silently. As Danny Rand was removed from this world, the intense light display quickly died down. Satisfied that the Nexus of Realities was safe, the monster turned away to stalk back through the swamp once more.
# # # # #
“I just don’t think it’s fiscally responsible.”
Luke Cage ground his teeth before saying, “So, the H4H is finished?”
“If we’re being honest with ourselves, Luke,” the half-dead cyborg on the screen replied, “the H4H has been finished since Danny left. Our headquarters was obliterated by Anarchy, our team pretty much disbanded, and our finances in the toilet. You’ve been hanging on by a thread for the last six months.”
As much as it pained him to admit it, Deathlok was right. Heroes For Hire was barely functioning as it was. The only clients that Luke really had anymore were ones that held him on retainer. While it paid his rent, he wasn’t able to draw in more business. Danny had always handled that part. The cash flow that H4H did have wasn’t enough to rebuild Deathlok’s facility, which had been their headquarters before an overzealous buffoon had tried to kill them.*
* [That would be the former lackey turned supervillain, Anarchy, from MAX 2000 #25]
“I just can’t believe you’re giving up,” Luke said. “You pulled me back into this gig in the first place.”
“I reformed the Heroes For Hire, yes,” Deathlok replied. “But the destruction of my facility made me realize that I lost sight of my original goal. I’m sorry, Luke, but I don’t think that the H4H is an investment I can make again. I’m here for support if you need it, but I’m moving on to Madripoor.”
“That snake pit? What’s down there other than thugs, thieves, and killers?”
“Some of the world’s most profitable tech companies, including Stark’s subsidiary hubs. If anyone can get me looking normal again—”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Look. No hard feelings, okay?”
Deathlok smiled awkwardly, his necrotic tissue making it difficult for his facial features to show any real type of emotion. “I’m serious about the support. If you need me, I’m just a phone call away.”
Luke nodded and cut the connection without another word. He couldn’t really blame the cyborg. While Luke was generating enough income to more than sustain himself, their contracts simply weren’t big enough to establish their operations like before. Since Luke was in the field by himself, he was spread too thin to pick up more business anyway.
He thought about calling Colleen, or maybe Misty. He needed some friends right now, but he would have to settle for a beer instead. Alone in his apartment in downtown Chicago, Luke Cage wondered if maybe he should move on, too. He could just throw a bag in his Dodge Charger, hit the road, and never look back. He’d done it before. Why not see where the wind took him again?
He stepped out onto his small balcony and raised the bottle of cold beer to his mouth. He stopped short, noticing a small red dot on the brown glass.
A nearly silent shot fired and the bottle exploded.
“Son of a—”
The sliding glass door behind him shattered as more gunshots pilfered the balcony. The bullets bounced harmlessly off of his body, but he was more aggravated that someone would have the guts to attack him where he lived.
While still being peppered by gunfire, Luke scanned the rooftops of the buildings across the street. He spotted the muzzle flash from the sniper, even though the person was using a silencer. He took a few steps backward into his apartment, and then ran forward, launching himself across the street.
He landed with a crunch and a wordless battle cry onto the stone pebble covered roof of the adjacent apartment building. The sniper, dressed in a black bodysuit complete with hood and goggles to conceal his identity, dropped his rifle and extracted something small and round from his web-gear. It was long, like the handle of a sword, but without the extending blade.
The sniper depressed a button and a string of red energy erupted from the handle. “Laser whip?” Cage inquired, a little impressed. “Alright, that’s pretty awesome. Not going to do you any good, though.”
He lunged forward as the sniper snapped the whip at him, missing his face by mere inches. Cage caught him around the waist, tackling him like only a pro-football player could. He drove the assassin into the side of an access doorway, knocking the wind out of him.
“Now you feel like doing a little explaining?” Cage asked as he drove his forearm into the sniper’s throat, pinning him.
Another red energy whip slung around Cage’s neck, cutting off his air supply. He release the sniper, pulling at the stinging laser cord around his throat. He stumbled backward, pulled by a second assassin dressed in the same black bodysuit.
A third and fourth one stepped out from the shadows of the rooftop, each wielding a fierce set of energy weapons. They held back, ready to join in should Cage break free. But he couldn’t. Despite his impressive strength and resilience, something was making him weaker. He pulled at the whip and fought the desire to just give in and pass out.
“I expect by now that you’re experiencing the draining effects of the psycho-whips,” a new voice said. Cage watched as the sniper stood up beside a man in a black trench coat that seemed to simply melt out of the darkness. “These laser whips, as you call them, are so much more than what they appear. They are psionic extensions of the user’s mental abilities. In the right hands, they become deadly weapons that siphon off an opponent’s ability to fight back.”
Cage was indeed fighting to stay upright. He fell to his knees, cursing in his mind. He tried to get back up, ordering his legs to obey him, but they simply wouldn’t listen to him. He was at the mercy of this newcomer.
He had blonde hair, a chiseled jaw, and blue eyes. Beneath his black coat was an expensive tailored suit that easily cost a month’s rent. There was a serious intent behind his gaze, marking him as a man that got what he wanted, accepting no substitutes or excuses.
“I suppose you’re wondering who I am,” the blonde man said. “My name is Agent Travers. I’ve been sent by the Commission on Superhuman Activities to recruit you, Mr. Cage.”
The whip didn’t loosen as the other three assassins stepped in between the well-dressed man and the subdued Cage. Agent Travers lit a cigarette, pulled a drag, and smiled as he exhaled. He was happy content to stand behind the protection of his killers, although age could tell that this was a man that didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if the need arose.
“If you can still hear me, and bravo for not lapsing into a coma as people sometimes do in your current situation, then you’re probably thinking that this is a rather odd way of recruiting someone. Well, the particular job that I need you for is one that you might not be interested in accepting without a little coercion.”
Travers nodded to one of the assassins, who stepped forward with a red energy knife pointed at Cage. The killer stabbed Luke between the eyes, driving the energy knife directly into the hero’s brain. Luke wanted to scream, but his throat closed up from the pain.
Images flooded his mind, overtaking his thoughts. He saw a brownstone in New York City, then a swamp somewhere in the everglades. At the center of both locations was a familiar man wearing a green and yellow uniform: Danny Rand, the Iron Fist.
“It hurts, I know,” Travers said. He tossed his cigarette away carelessly onto the rooftop. “I designed it to be painful. I find that pain is a great motivator.”
He nodded and the assassin removed the psychic energy blade from Cage’s forehead. Cage slumped forward, breathing steadily, even though a dribble of drool slipped out from between his lips. The whip slipped off of his neck and the assassins dissipated into the darkness.
Travers stepped close to Cage, leaning down to his level. “Find Danny Rand,” the agent said. “You know him best. I’ve downloaded all the information we have on his current whereabouts into your memory. If anyone can locate him, it should be you. Find Danny Rand and kill him.”
Everything went black.
Luke stepped back out onto his balcony, a cold beer in hand. He thought about calling Colleen, or Misty, but decided against it. He noticed a wet spot on the balcony, but figured that his upstairs neighbor must have been watering his plants again.
He took a long drink from the bottle, staring at the rooftop across the street. For some reason he couldn’t pull his eyes off of the empty roof, like he was trying to remember something important about it.
Luke chugged the rest of the beer and went back inside to pack. Chicago was a long way from the Florida everglades. He had never been there before, and didn’t have a clue about what he should bring, but he didn’t much care. All he knew was that was hopping a flight tomorrow to go track down his best friend that had left him without a word six months ago.
“I’m coming for you, Danny,” Luke said.
TO BE CONTINUED!
A searing beam of yellow and white energy slammed into the sidewalk, cutting through the flat concrete like it was nothing more than tin foil. The blast quickly dissipated, revealing a scorched and blackened crater where a man had just been standing.
That man, a bulky black hero that went by the moniker of Luke Cage, ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t used to dodging attacks like that. His steel-hard skin usually put the kibosh on whatever was trying to do him harm. His shredded shirt and scarred chest, however, was evidence that his limited invulnerability was not going to be enough this time around.
He ran his hand over his bald head, now cleanly shaven from how he usually styled it. He had undergone many changes in the last few months, deciding that a new look would help give him a fresh start. Not that his new appearance was deceiving the person trying to kill him at the moment.
“With a name like the Eel,” Cage said, “I kind of figured on you being more of a pushover. Least that’s how I remember you.”
The colorful Eel growled as he unleashed another pinpointed electrical discharge at the original hired hero. The shocking power, easily double what the villain had once been capable of, burned down a street lamp, turning it into melted slag in seconds.
His suit, the source of his powerful electrical blasts, must have been modified somehow. The world was growing increasingly more chaotic, with the bad guys getting better and better tech. It used to be that Cage could shrug off this joke of a villain and walk right through his attacks without a second thought. Now he needed to think at least three or four thoughts ahead or else he would be fried on the spot.
Chicago in general had become a permanent danger zone. It was both good and bad for Cage. Good because it meant an increase in his business ventures and more revenue. Bad because he was getting worn down pretty thin, very quickly.
The Eel had broken into a pharmaceutical warehouse, which Cage had been hired to guard. This was one of his retainer clients, which meant that when the executives had received a bold threat from a disgruntled employee, he had been called into play. The threat turned out to be very real, with the employee hiring a known mercenary to burn the storage facility and destroy every trace of the experimental drug housed inside.
Another blast, forcing Cage to duck behind the sign by the entrance to the facility. The fight had started before the Eel had managed to get inside the building, and Cage had quickly angled him out toward the street in an attempt to put a little distance between the Eel and his target.
Cage ripped the remains of his tattered shirt off his burly chest and said, “Enough is enough. This fool is toast.”
He reached down, picked up a 200 lbs manhole cover with ease from where it was embedded in the street, and cracked his neck. Bending his legs slightly, Luke Cage quickly shot up into the air, his amazing strength catapulting him skyward. The Eel fired random arcs of searing electricity wildly, taken aback at the now high-flying Luke Cage. Cage whipped his arm around as he descended, hurling the manhole cover at the villain.
The plate slammed into his stomach, forcing the Eel to double over and be punched down into the ground. The small lawn outside the warehouse was now a burnt patchwork of grass and dirt. The Eel lay unconscious in the center of the war zone, smoke billowing up from his overcharged costume.
Cage landed a few yards away from him, content that the bad guy was taken care of and that he had earned another paycheck. The damage to the building wasn’t that horrible, considering that the Eel’s overall goal was to burn every trace of the contents inside. In fact, the only real loss was Cage’s shirt, which had been one of his favorites.
Sirens in the distance. He would have some explaining to do to the cops, and being an ex-con he really hated having that conversation over and over again. Danny was always better at dealing with the police.
But he had no clue where Danny Rand even was these days. His best friend had left Chicago after saving his life and he hadn’t heard from him since. That was six months ago.
It was a question that nagged at Luke Cage virtually every day: Where was Danny Rand?
# # # # #
Danny hated the swamp. It was cold, dark, and wet. Creatures slithered by that he could not directly account for other than a flicker in the stream near his feet. It was irritating that he had to be here. He would much rather by in the arms of Misty Knight.
He quickly shook his head. No, Misty wouldn’t have anything to do with him these days. Not after the mess that boiled over while he was still with the Heroes For Hire. He suddenly missed his friends, but knew that he had to be here, in this wretched place, if he wanted to save his life.
Vines, moss, and exotic flowers coated the landscape. He had long ago stopped trying to force his way through the thick foliage, instead opting to just pass through whatever way he could. He ducked underneath a thick tree branch that was covered in a slimy, greenish goo, wishing that he could be anywhere else.
But this is where Dr. Stephan Strange had instructed him to go. The Sorcerer Supreme, while an expert in all things magical, mystical, and mythical, had been unable to determine what was wrong with his chi. Ever since he had bonded with the fantastic Blade of the Dragon from K’un Lun his powers had been out of whack.*
* [Danny retrieved the sword from Chiantang’s stronghold in H4H #10, and then sought Dr. Strange’s help at the end of MAX 2000 #25]
The good doctor had coldly informed him that if he did not find a balance to restore his chi, or somehow separate himself from the sword, that it would eat away at his very spirit. The sword had been developed in K’un Lun to aid in the Iron Fist technique, however the masters that had designed the sword never mastered it. It was considered too powerful to wield, and Danny could feel it pulling at his chi every day.
So, even though Strange couldn’t help him, he had directed him to a swamp in the pits of the everglades. He was told that he balance he sought could be found in this bizarre place. Although, so far the only things Danny had found were bugs. Lots of bugs.
He wore a hiking backpack, jeans, and a long sleeve t-shirt that had done little to protect his arms. His green and yellow costume was folded into the pack, along with supplies for the journey. At his side clung a machete, although it didn’t help as much as he thought it would when making the trek through the dense jungle-life swamp.
“This is pointless,” he muttered. “I don’t even know where the hell I’m going.”
Even though he was lost, and losing hope quickly, he couldn’t deny that there was something about this place that pulled at him. He trusted Strange’s judgment, even if the elder magician was a little secretive at times.
The sun was lowering, stealing away what little light was available to navigate by. Danny hopped onto a tree root that was as wide as a Buick, getting his soggy feet out of the marshy terrain. He slipped off his pack and prepared to make camp. He had been wandering for three days and knew better than to try and travel after the sun went down.
He yanked a protein bar out of the pack and began to gnaw on it as the last rays of the glistening sun pilfered his retinas. He turned away to shield his eyes, but after a moment, realized that the sun had gone down but the glowing was still trying to blind him.
He turned to see varying shades of color from behind the tree line, mixing and dancing like an orchestra of light. The protein bar hung in his mouth as he slowly stood up, transfixed by the rainbow medley.
A burst of lightning shot through the swamp, jutting back and forth between the hanging vines, careful not to touch any of the plant life. It stabbed into Danny’s right forearm, slicing through his skin and latching onto his body and soul.
He screamed, and then vanished. The protein bar fell into the murky swamp, disappearing beneath the dark waters.
From the shadows, a moss-covered behemoth watched silently. As Danny Rand was removed from this world, the intense light display quickly died down. Satisfied that the Nexus of Realities was safe, the monster turned away to stalk back through the swamp once more.
# # # # #
“I just don’t think it’s fiscally responsible.”
Luke Cage ground his teeth before saying, “So, the H4H is finished?”
“If we’re being honest with ourselves, Luke,” the half-dead cyborg on the screen replied, “the H4H has been finished since Danny left. Our headquarters was obliterated by Anarchy, our team pretty much disbanded, and our finances in the toilet. You’ve been hanging on by a thread for the last six months.”
As much as it pained him to admit it, Deathlok was right. Heroes For Hire was barely functioning as it was. The only clients that Luke really had anymore were ones that held him on retainer. While it paid his rent, he wasn’t able to draw in more business. Danny had always handled that part. The cash flow that H4H did have wasn’t enough to rebuild Deathlok’s facility, which had been their headquarters before an overzealous buffoon had tried to kill them.*
* [That would be the former lackey turned supervillain, Anarchy, from MAX 2000 #25]
“I just can’t believe you’re giving up,” Luke said. “You pulled me back into this gig in the first place.”
“I reformed the Heroes For Hire, yes,” Deathlok replied. “But the destruction of my facility made me realize that I lost sight of my original goal. I’m sorry, Luke, but I don’t think that the H4H is an investment I can make again. I’m here for support if you need it, but I’m moving on to Madripoor.”
“That snake pit? What’s down there other than thugs, thieves, and killers?”
“Some of the world’s most profitable tech companies, including Stark’s subsidiary hubs. If anyone can get me looking normal again—”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Look. No hard feelings, okay?”
Deathlok smiled awkwardly, his necrotic tissue making it difficult for his facial features to show any real type of emotion. “I’m serious about the support. If you need me, I’m just a phone call away.”
Luke nodded and cut the connection without another word. He couldn’t really blame the cyborg. While Luke was generating enough income to more than sustain himself, their contracts simply weren’t big enough to establish their operations like before. Since Luke was in the field by himself, he was spread too thin to pick up more business anyway.
He thought about calling Colleen, or maybe Misty. He needed some friends right now, but he would have to settle for a beer instead. Alone in his apartment in downtown Chicago, Luke Cage wondered if maybe he should move on, too. He could just throw a bag in his Dodge Charger, hit the road, and never look back. He’d done it before. Why not see where the wind took him again?
He stepped out onto his small balcony and raised the bottle of cold beer to his mouth. He stopped short, noticing a small red dot on the brown glass.
A nearly silent shot fired and the bottle exploded.
“Son of a—”
The sliding glass door behind him shattered as more gunshots pilfered the balcony. The bullets bounced harmlessly off of his body, but he was more aggravated that someone would have the guts to attack him where he lived.
While still being peppered by gunfire, Luke scanned the rooftops of the buildings across the street. He spotted the muzzle flash from the sniper, even though the person was using a silencer. He took a few steps backward into his apartment, and then ran forward, launching himself across the street.
He landed with a crunch and a wordless battle cry onto the stone pebble covered roof of the adjacent apartment building. The sniper, dressed in a black bodysuit complete with hood and goggles to conceal his identity, dropped his rifle and extracted something small and round from his web-gear. It was long, like the handle of a sword, but without the extending blade.
The sniper depressed a button and a string of red energy erupted from the handle. “Laser whip?” Cage inquired, a little impressed. “Alright, that’s pretty awesome. Not going to do you any good, though.”
He lunged forward as the sniper snapped the whip at him, missing his face by mere inches. Cage caught him around the waist, tackling him like only a pro-football player could. He drove the assassin into the side of an access doorway, knocking the wind out of him.
“Now you feel like doing a little explaining?” Cage asked as he drove his forearm into the sniper’s throat, pinning him.
Another red energy whip slung around Cage’s neck, cutting off his air supply. He release the sniper, pulling at the stinging laser cord around his throat. He stumbled backward, pulled by a second assassin dressed in the same black bodysuit.
A third and fourth one stepped out from the shadows of the rooftop, each wielding a fierce set of energy weapons. They held back, ready to join in should Cage break free. But he couldn’t. Despite his impressive strength and resilience, something was making him weaker. He pulled at the whip and fought the desire to just give in and pass out.
“I expect by now that you’re experiencing the draining effects of the psycho-whips,” a new voice said. Cage watched as the sniper stood up beside a man in a black trench coat that seemed to simply melt out of the darkness. “These laser whips, as you call them, are so much more than what they appear. They are psionic extensions of the user’s mental abilities. In the right hands, they become deadly weapons that siphon off an opponent’s ability to fight back.”
Cage was indeed fighting to stay upright. He fell to his knees, cursing in his mind. He tried to get back up, ordering his legs to obey him, but they simply wouldn’t listen to him. He was at the mercy of this newcomer.
He had blonde hair, a chiseled jaw, and blue eyes. Beneath his black coat was an expensive tailored suit that easily cost a month’s rent. There was a serious intent behind his gaze, marking him as a man that got what he wanted, accepting no substitutes or excuses.
“I suppose you’re wondering who I am,” the blonde man said. “My name is Agent Travers. I’ve been sent by the Commission on Superhuman Activities to recruit you, Mr. Cage.”
The whip didn’t loosen as the other three assassins stepped in between the well-dressed man and the subdued Cage. Agent Travers lit a cigarette, pulled a drag, and smiled as he exhaled. He was happy content to stand behind the protection of his killers, although age could tell that this was a man that didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if the need arose.
“If you can still hear me, and bravo for not lapsing into a coma as people sometimes do in your current situation, then you’re probably thinking that this is a rather odd way of recruiting someone. Well, the particular job that I need you for is one that you might not be interested in accepting without a little coercion.”
Travers nodded to one of the assassins, who stepped forward with a red energy knife pointed at Cage. The killer stabbed Luke between the eyes, driving the energy knife directly into the hero’s brain. Luke wanted to scream, but his throat closed up from the pain.
Images flooded his mind, overtaking his thoughts. He saw a brownstone in New York City, then a swamp somewhere in the everglades. At the center of both locations was a familiar man wearing a green and yellow uniform: Danny Rand, the Iron Fist.
“It hurts, I know,” Travers said. He tossed his cigarette away carelessly onto the rooftop. “I designed it to be painful. I find that pain is a great motivator.”
He nodded and the assassin removed the psychic energy blade from Cage’s forehead. Cage slumped forward, breathing steadily, even though a dribble of drool slipped out from between his lips. The whip slipped off of his neck and the assassins dissipated into the darkness.
Travers stepped close to Cage, leaning down to his level. “Find Danny Rand,” the agent said. “You know him best. I’ve downloaded all the information we have on his current whereabouts into your memory. If anyone can locate him, it should be you. Find Danny Rand and kill him.”
Everything went black.
Luke stepped back out onto his balcony, a cold beer in hand. He thought about calling Colleen, or Misty, but decided against it. He noticed a wet spot on the balcony, but figured that his upstairs neighbor must have been watering his plants again.
He took a long drink from the bottle, staring at the rooftop across the street. For some reason he couldn’t pull his eyes off of the empty roof, like he was trying to remember something important about it.
Luke chugged the rest of the beer and went back inside to pack. Chicago was a long way from the Florida everglades. He had never been there before, and didn’t have a clue about what he should bring, but he didn’t much care. All he knew was that was hopping a flight tomorrow to go track down his best friend that had left him without a word six months ago.
“I’m coming for you, Danny,” Luke said.
TO BE CONTINUED!