Back to GatefoldIssue #6 by D. Golightly
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“Leaps & Bounds – Part Three”
As things went, the boys had done better.
Danny Rand, the wielder of the legendary Iron Fist technique, struggled against the incapacitating field generated by the circuit board attached to his chest. Likewise, his partner in heroics, the famous Luke Cage, struggled uselessly beside him. Sucker-punched and brought down by the dual talents of the armored Dreadknight and the brawler known as Mister X, they were held inside the very warehouse they had come to investigate and being lectured by a passionate woman they had never even heard of before.*
* [Remember the last issue? Me neither. It was so long ago I had to read it again. – D]
All that Iron Fist could think of was how much he hated visiting Madripoor. Every time he came here he ended up getting jumped.
The only thought going through Cage’s head was where the hell was Deathlok? Unless he had completely misunderstood how math worked, there were three of them when they breached the warehouse. So…where was he?
Dreadknight returned from the other side of the warehouse, keeping his lance aimed at the two captured men. He bounced slightly as he struggled to re-zip his costume with one hand while the other kept his weapon centered. Mister X shook his head at his forced ally.
“What?” Dreadknight said. “When you got to go, you got to go.”
“It is so typical of Stark to send lackeys to clean up his messes,” Sing-Chu, the self-proclaimed Daughter of the Warlord, said. “I have stolen billions of dollars of his technology, funneling his shipments to this warehouse, but it is a mere drop in the bucket to him. Philanthropist? Hardly. These stolen goods are just a tax right-off to him.”
“Keeping them alive is a bad idea, boss lady,” Dreadknight said. He sauntered up beside her, his grotesque helmet hiding the apprehension in his eyes. “Trust me. I know these guys. Just let me kill them now before—”
“You would kill paralyzed opponents?” Mister X blurt out with obvious disgust in his voice. He stood shirtless, not having even broken a sweat in taking down the two Heroes For Hire. He removed his sunglasses and eyed Dreadknight cautiously. “Coward. I’ll gladly kill them, but release them first. Where is the sport in a defenseless opponent?”
“Shut up, the both of you,” Sing-Chu commanded. “If Stark won’t come for his tech, he’ll come for his employees. He loves playing the hero, doesn’t he? Yes. He’s arrogant. They’ll be the bait for my final vengeance against Stark.”
“What is it with you and Stark?” Dreaknight inquired. “I mean, I hate the guy, too, don’t get me wrong. But I can branch out a little.”
The death stare Sing-Chu shot him made him instantly regret his remarks. “Stark is a pathetic craven that caused the death of my father, the great Wong-Chu, and the first rival of the now famous Iron Man. Do you know how Stark came to possess his armor? By using my father’s resources to create a weapon that led to his death!”
The fury in Sing-Chu’s face was evident. She paced the warehouse floor, staring coldly at Dreadknight. She said, “My father, a prominent soldier in the Mandarin’s legions, captured Stark while he was wounded, and held him captive. He was to make a new weapon for my father, but he used it to escape instead! Because of his cowardly act, my father was left to face the Mandarin’s wrath without the promised weapon. It resulted in his death. But would Stark care? Of course not!”
Dreadknight stepped back from Sing-Chu, stopping when his back pressed up against a large dynamo that powered most of the equipment in the warehouse. The woman seemed unhinged and ready to lash out.
“Vengeance is something I can appreciate,” Mister X added. “However, while I sympathize with your plight, and enjoy spending your money, I must agree with the idiot dressed like a renaissance buffoon. Keeping them alive is foolish.”
“I’ll keep them as hostages until—”
The power throughout the entire facility suddenly went out. With just a vague impression of moonlight coming in through the small windows lining the ceiling, the majority of the warehouse was plunged into darkness. Sing-Chu cursed and Mister X moved closer to Luke and Danny, expecting their fight to be renewed.
“I’ve got it,” Dreadknight called out in the darkness. “I can pick up the available ambient light in my helmet. I’ll get us back online in a second. Uh…X? Can you get over to the breaker and see if something was tripped while I check out the dynamo?”
“Mister X,” the fighter replied coldly. He detested being lopped in with someone so unprofessional, but still did as he was asked. He wasn’t an electrical engineer so he would be forced to comply with an idiot’s direction for the time being.
“Right. Mister. Sorry.”
“This reeks of trickery,” Sing-Chu said.
“Just hang tight, boss lady,” Dreadknight replied. “I’ll have the lights back on in a second.”
True to his word, a few moments later the lights did come back on. Only Sing-Chu was shocked to see that her two captives were no longer bound by the circuit boards that Dreadknight had adhered to their chests. Iron Fist stretched his back while Cage wiggled his broken nose back into place. What surprised her all the more, however, was that Dreadknight was standing beside them with his back to her, holding the two circuit boards.
“What are you—” she started to say.
Crack!
The brittle boards split into pieces and fell to the floor at Dreadknight’s feet. The mercenary turned to face her and said, “Sorry, Daughter of the Warlord. I’ve had a better offer.”
Mister X came surging back to their corner of the warehouse, his face contorted with rage. “The real Dreadknight is bound and gagged in the bathroom!” he said. “I checked because this one’s body language was suddenly different. That’s an imposter!”
‘Dreadknight’ reached to his belt and turned a dial on his belt buckle. His visage shimmered for a moment before dropping away completely, fading to reveal his true self hidden behind a holographic projection. The majority of his body was encased in armor, with the half of his face not covered up looking partially decomposed. He smiled at them and held an arm-length rifle at the two of them, which until a moment ago been disguised as a lance.
“A short-range EMP took out the dynamo,” Deathlok said. “It was all the distraction I needed to get close enough to these guys to set them free again. Only lasts about a minute, though.”
“Sure took you long enough,” Cage muttered.
“Turn yourselves in now,” Iron Fist said firmly, “and we’ll drop the kidnapping charges for holding us against our wills.”
“Death first,” Mister X said with a sneer.
The five of them faced each other, no one willing to take the first step. Despite the fact that Deathlok had both Mister X and Sing-Chu covered, they knew better than to simply approach the pair. Mister X alone was a martial arts force of nature, and Sing-Chu was an unknown factor who could have anything up her sleeve.
Seconds ticked away in total silence. Sing-Chu slowly lowered her hands to her sides, making Deathlok’s trigger finger all the more itchy.
The bathroom door burst open and the real Dreadknight stumbled out, obviously woozy. His helmet clattered to the floor and he fell to his knees. Looking at them, he raised his arm and pointed at Deathlok, shouting, “Kill them!”
All hell broke loose. Sing-Chu slipped a metal disc out of her pocket and tossed it at Cage at the same time that Mister X ducked low and sprung forward. Deathlok’s weapon fired, but missed Sing-Chu wide and blew a stack of crates over, their metal contents spilling onto the warehouse floor.
Mister X tackled Iron Fist around the waste just as the disc struck Cage’s abdomen. Both tumbled backward as Deathlok gave chase after the Daughter of the Warlord, ignoring the rant from Dreadknight who was fumbling with something on his armor.
The air had been punched out of Iron Fist as he grappled with Mister X on the ground, each man trying desperately to get some kind of leverage over the other. While Iron Fist had been trained by mystical agents of a long forgotten order, his opponent had years of brawling experience that superseded even the most rigorous training. His real life cage matches were a matter of life and death, and as a result, his theoretical knowledge of martial arts had been honed. Danny had been pitted against his fair share of opponents, but none with such an eclectic hand-to-hand background as Mister X.
Driving his right fist into Danny’s side again and again while his left grappled with keeping the hero down, Mister X grinned as he both felt and heard one of Danny’s ribs snap. The sudden jolt of pain normally would have weakened an adversary, and while Iron Fist did flinch, his muscles only flexed all the harder.
It was a technique taught to him by several of his former instructors to focus the mind in such a way that using anticipated pain could rally your senses. Knowing Mister X’s history with cage fighting, Danny knew that should he be pinned in a grapple that the ribs would provide an easy target and would likely be the first area Mister X would pound on. In advance of this he had reshaped his mental focus to anticipate the first rib cracking, using that sudden release of endorphins and adrenaline to invigorate his upper body strength.
Typically when grappling, when Mister X cracked someone’s ribs he expected them to cry out in pain and for their arms to go slack. Therefore he shifted his weight forward, intending to capitalize on Danny loosening his defense and drive his next blow directly into his throat. He was therefore surprised when Iron Fist not only failed to weaken, but instead shifted his own weight under him and flip him over.
Mister X was shocked to see Iron Fist pass beneath him as he was catapulted up off of the hero, but quickly regained his composure, twisting in midair and landing on his feet. As he turned Iron Fist sprung up, spinning and already in a defensive stance, expecting another series of blows.
Pausing, Mister X said, “Your discipline is admirable.”
“Thanks,” Iron Fist shot back. “I work out.”
“Do you really think you can defeat me with an injury? Especially when your friend is dying right next to you?”
Danny shot a glance at Cage, who was writhing on the ground, fighting against whatever Sing-Chu had thrown at him. He desperately wanted to aid his friend, but knew that to do so would be like signing his own death warrant. With someone like Mister X facing off against him, he had to be completely focused on what was directly in front of him.
“Something you should realize about Luke,” Danny said as he took a few steps to one side. “Every time he gets knocked down he has this bad habit of getting right back up again.”
“Then after I kill you I’ll help him overcome that nasty pattern.”
Mister X’s hands slashed through the air, slicing mere centimeters from Danny’s vital organs. Despite the pain in his side, Iron Fist bent and twisted, shifting his weight again and again. He spun several times as Mister X pressed forward with his strikes, building momentum and making sure to keep aware of his surroundings. The last thing he wanted was to bump into crates or the dynamo and be caught off guard.
After several chops that could have shattered him, Iron Fist finally saw his opening and took it. As Mister X lunged, instead of stepping backward again Danny stepped into the arc of his strike. Grabbing Mister X’s wrist as it sliced by his face, he drove his thumb straight between Mister X’s radius and ulna. The interosseous membrane broke and the appendage suddenly became useless.
Mister X retreated a step and cupped his wrist, but only for a brief moment. To his credit, he didn’t shout out in pain either, but it no longer mattered. As he took the smallest of pauses to shift his weight and put his good side facing his opponent, Iron Fist back-spun toward him and drove his elbow into his chin. Two teeth popped out of Mister X’s mouth before he hit the floor, unconscious.
“AH!” Cage roared.
Iron Fist looked over to see Cage crumple the bits of the disc that Sing-Chu had thrown at him, having just ripped it off of his own chest. There was fury in his eyes and he was seething with rage. He locked onto Danny and for a moment Iron Fist thought that Cage wasn’t in his right mind again.
“Easy, Luke,” Iron Fist said as he raised his hands, palms out. “Same side, bro. What did she do to you?”
Cage was struggling to catch his breath. “Some kind of repulser tech. It felt like the entire planet was sitting on my chest. It took everything I had to pry the damn thing off of me. God, I can’t wait to get my hands on that girl.”
But before they could advance into the warehouse, twin blasts of energy rocketed between them. Instinctively diving away from each other, the Heroes For Hire separated themselves so as not to leave easier targets for whoever was shooting at them.
Iron Fist took up position behind the knocked over crates as Cage pressed his back against the now operating dynamo. Cage peaked out first, saying, “Christmas…Dreadknight is back up again.”
“Stand still!” the armored villain shouted as he peppered the dynamo with several more blasts from his lance.
“Luke,” Danny shouted to get his friend’s attention and then pointed at his feet. “Want to handle this one like we did with Cottonmouth back in the day?”
Cage looked down, seeing a large steel bolt that was used for something on the dynamo, possibly a spare coil anchor. It looked to weigh around a hundred pounds. “Yeah,” he shot back. “Yeah, I think I do.”
Smirking, Danny crouched down and then leapt straight up onto the crate’s, drawing Dreadknight’s fire. Searing blasts of energy roared by his as his nimbly leapt onto the highest crate and then across the gap to the dynamo.
Cage caught him perfect in his palm, with Iron Fist perched on one foot like a crane. With a roar and a little effort, Cage launched Iron Fist across the warehouse in a high arc over Dreadknight. The villain, distracted by what looked like an aerial attack, never even saw Cage hoist the massive bolt up and throw it directly at him.
He certainly felt it, though.
Iron Fist landed almost playfully on his feet a few yards behind Dreadknight, whose armor did little to protect him from a hundred pound piece of metal being thrown at fifty miles an hour. The impact alone shattered several of his ribs. Iron Fist made sure to check that he was still breathing before motioning to Luke to move on.
They rushed around a corner, but saw they needn’t have bothered. Swearing profusely in Mandarin was Sing-Chu, bound by a hefty metal cable that Deathlok had wrapped her up in. Despite her protestations and the gravity of the situation, Iron Fist and Cage both couldn’t help but laugh. Deathlok had hogtied their captor, making her appear as nonthreatening as possible.
“Hey, guys,” Deathlok said as they approached. “All good?”
Cage clapped his hand with Deathlok’s, saying, “Yeah, man. We good.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
“—can’t say how sorry I am, boys. Honestly.”
Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony, it’s okay. Seriously. You hired us to do a job and that’s what we did.”
Now aboard a private jet heading back to the United States, Luke and Danny could finally relax. They had turned Sing-Chu, Mister X, and Dreadknight over to the authorities, although Deathlok wasn’t convinced they would stay out of the game for long. He thought about getting SHIELD involved, but as they had finished their assignment they decided to let him handle it. He knew the ins and outs of Madripor much better than they did these days.
Tony Stark didn’t look satisfied on the video conference screen. “I hired you to protect my interests, but you did way more than that. You both put your lives on the line and ended up reclaiming a ton of my lost shipments. I honestly had no clue that Wong-Chu had a daughter, or that she would be harboring a grudge. I just assumed it was corporate pirates stealing my tech.”
“Does that happen a lot?” Luke asked before inhaling a bag of potato chips from the plane’s minibar.
“More than I’m comfortable with, but if I’m being honest, it’s to be expected.”
“How so?” Danny asked.
“Well, I mean…I’m Iron Man.” The look on their faces was enough to tell Tony that he had more to explain. “I’m responsible for some of the most innovative technologies to ever exist. I’m also an Avenger. It’s not enough to say I have a target on my back. It’s more like I’m a walking beacon for trouble. Like Trump.”
“Aaaaand we’re done here,” Danny said as he sat forward to end the call.
“Wait,” Tony quickly said. “Seriously. Boys. Whatever you need, just let me know. I truly appreciate what you did for me.”
Danny raised an eyebrow as he shot Cage a glance, who shrugged in return and then nodded. “Okay,” Danny said. “Let’s talk about you investing in Heroes For Hire.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Agent Travers.”
John Aman, the Prince of Orphans, tread back and forth inside his glass cage. Had not the unfortunate circumstances of his life led him to being under the control of this man, he would gleefully use the Blade of the Dragon to cut out his heart.
The Blade, once infused to Danny Rand, was now his to control. He had planned on using it to advance his own agenda, but Travers had intervened. He felt the presence of the deadly weapon mingled within his chi even now, yearning to come out and strike. But now was not the time.
Travers smirked. They were in his office at the Commission on Superhuman Activities, although Aman was sure that is his compatriots knew what he was really up to he would be locked up in the Vault. Travers looked down on the glass bottle he had contained Aman inside and his smile broadened.
“I appreciate the concern,” Travers replied, “but I can assure you that I have things well under my control. My sources tell me that both Rand and Cage are headed back to the United States as we speak. They’re headed for Chicago, likely to Cage’s apartment. When they get there, of course, they’ll be in for a pleasant surprise.”
“You’re referring to the boy?”
“Victor Alvarez will succeed where you failed,” Travers said. He stood up and tossed the papers he had been looking through carelessly on his desk, now more focused on the conversation. “But you’ll back him up, of course. I’m not so stupid as to send an untested asset into the field.”
“Like you did with Cage?”
“Yes…I suppose you want me to thank you for cleaning up after me? Might I remind you that you were supposed to kill Rand when you took the Blade from him?”*
* [PM & IF #3!]
Aman turned away, unwilling to continue the pointless conversation. If he were to have any chance of ridding himself of Travers, he would do well to start thinking of his own machinations once more. He didn’t know how to leverage both Iron Fist and Luke Cage against him yet, but he had faith that an opportunity would present itself.
“Mark my words,” Travers continued. “Before the next full moon we will both have our hearts’ desires. You will have K’un Lun and I will have access to ultimate power!”
NEXT ISSUE: The rematch of Iron Fist versus the Prince of Orphans! Plus, Cage comes face to face with his own past as the boys are thrown into the brawl of their lives. Travers puts the boys through the ringer, but what is his ultimate goal?
Danny Rand, the wielder of the legendary Iron Fist technique, struggled against the incapacitating field generated by the circuit board attached to his chest. Likewise, his partner in heroics, the famous Luke Cage, struggled uselessly beside him. Sucker-punched and brought down by the dual talents of the armored Dreadknight and the brawler known as Mister X, they were held inside the very warehouse they had come to investigate and being lectured by a passionate woman they had never even heard of before.*
* [Remember the last issue? Me neither. It was so long ago I had to read it again. – D]
All that Iron Fist could think of was how much he hated visiting Madripoor. Every time he came here he ended up getting jumped.
The only thought going through Cage’s head was where the hell was Deathlok? Unless he had completely misunderstood how math worked, there were three of them when they breached the warehouse. So…where was he?
Dreadknight returned from the other side of the warehouse, keeping his lance aimed at the two captured men. He bounced slightly as he struggled to re-zip his costume with one hand while the other kept his weapon centered. Mister X shook his head at his forced ally.
“What?” Dreadknight said. “When you got to go, you got to go.”
“It is so typical of Stark to send lackeys to clean up his messes,” Sing-Chu, the self-proclaimed Daughter of the Warlord, said. “I have stolen billions of dollars of his technology, funneling his shipments to this warehouse, but it is a mere drop in the bucket to him. Philanthropist? Hardly. These stolen goods are just a tax right-off to him.”
“Keeping them alive is a bad idea, boss lady,” Dreadknight said. He sauntered up beside her, his grotesque helmet hiding the apprehension in his eyes. “Trust me. I know these guys. Just let me kill them now before—”
“You would kill paralyzed opponents?” Mister X blurt out with obvious disgust in his voice. He stood shirtless, not having even broken a sweat in taking down the two Heroes For Hire. He removed his sunglasses and eyed Dreadknight cautiously. “Coward. I’ll gladly kill them, but release them first. Where is the sport in a defenseless opponent?”
“Shut up, the both of you,” Sing-Chu commanded. “If Stark won’t come for his tech, he’ll come for his employees. He loves playing the hero, doesn’t he? Yes. He’s arrogant. They’ll be the bait for my final vengeance against Stark.”
“What is it with you and Stark?” Dreaknight inquired. “I mean, I hate the guy, too, don’t get me wrong. But I can branch out a little.”
The death stare Sing-Chu shot him made him instantly regret his remarks. “Stark is a pathetic craven that caused the death of my father, the great Wong-Chu, and the first rival of the now famous Iron Man. Do you know how Stark came to possess his armor? By using my father’s resources to create a weapon that led to his death!”
The fury in Sing-Chu’s face was evident. She paced the warehouse floor, staring coldly at Dreadknight. She said, “My father, a prominent soldier in the Mandarin’s legions, captured Stark while he was wounded, and held him captive. He was to make a new weapon for my father, but he used it to escape instead! Because of his cowardly act, my father was left to face the Mandarin’s wrath without the promised weapon. It resulted in his death. But would Stark care? Of course not!”
Dreadknight stepped back from Sing-Chu, stopping when his back pressed up against a large dynamo that powered most of the equipment in the warehouse. The woman seemed unhinged and ready to lash out.
“Vengeance is something I can appreciate,” Mister X added. “However, while I sympathize with your plight, and enjoy spending your money, I must agree with the idiot dressed like a renaissance buffoon. Keeping them alive is foolish.”
“I’ll keep them as hostages until—”
The power throughout the entire facility suddenly went out. With just a vague impression of moonlight coming in through the small windows lining the ceiling, the majority of the warehouse was plunged into darkness. Sing-Chu cursed and Mister X moved closer to Luke and Danny, expecting their fight to be renewed.
“I’ve got it,” Dreadknight called out in the darkness. “I can pick up the available ambient light in my helmet. I’ll get us back online in a second. Uh…X? Can you get over to the breaker and see if something was tripped while I check out the dynamo?”
“Mister X,” the fighter replied coldly. He detested being lopped in with someone so unprofessional, but still did as he was asked. He wasn’t an electrical engineer so he would be forced to comply with an idiot’s direction for the time being.
“Right. Mister. Sorry.”
“This reeks of trickery,” Sing-Chu said.
“Just hang tight, boss lady,” Dreadknight replied. “I’ll have the lights back on in a second.”
True to his word, a few moments later the lights did come back on. Only Sing-Chu was shocked to see that her two captives were no longer bound by the circuit boards that Dreadknight had adhered to their chests. Iron Fist stretched his back while Cage wiggled his broken nose back into place. What surprised her all the more, however, was that Dreadknight was standing beside them with his back to her, holding the two circuit boards.
“What are you—” she started to say.
Crack!
The brittle boards split into pieces and fell to the floor at Dreadknight’s feet. The mercenary turned to face her and said, “Sorry, Daughter of the Warlord. I’ve had a better offer.”
Mister X came surging back to their corner of the warehouse, his face contorted with rage. “The real Dreadknight is bound and gagged in the bathroom!” he said. “I checked because this one’s body language was suddenly different. That’s an imposter!”
‘Dreadknight’ reached to his belt and turned a dial on his belt buckle. His visage shimmered for a moment before dropping away completely, fading to reveal his true self hidden behind a holographic projection. The majority of his body was encased in armor, with the half of his face not covered up looking partially decomposed. He smiled at them and held an arm-length rifle at the two of them, which until a moment ago been disguised as a lance.
“A short-range EMP took out the dynamo,” Deathlok said. “It was all the distraction I needed to get close enough to these guys to set them free again. Only lasts about a minute, though.”
“Sure took you long enough,” Cage muttered.
“Turn yourselves in now,” Iron Fist said firmly, “and we’ll drop the kidnapping charges for holding us against our wills.”
“Death first,” Mister X said with a sneer.
The five of them faced each other, no one willing to take the first step. Despite the fact that Deathlok had both Mister X and Sing-Chu covered, they knew better than to simply approach the pair. Mister X alone was a martial arts force of nature, and Sing-Chu was an unknown factor who could have anything up her sleeve.
Seconds ticked away in total silence. Sing-Chu slowly lowered her hands to her sides, making Deathlok’s trigger finger all the more itchy.
The bathroom door burst open and the real Dreadknight stumbled out, obviously woozy. His helmet clattered to the floor and he fell to his knees. Looking at them, he raised his arm and pointed at Deathlok, shouting, “Kill them!”
All hell broke loose. Sing-Chu slipped a metal disc out of her pocket and tossed it at Cage at the same time that Mister X ducked low and sprung forward. Deathlok’s weapon fired, but missed Sing-Chu wide and blew a stack of crates over, their metal contents spilling onto the warehouse floor.
Mister X tackled Iron Fist around the waste just as the disc struck Cage’s abdomen. Both tumbled backward as Deathlok gave chase after the Daughter of the Warlord, ignoring the rant from Dreadknight who was fumbling with something on his armor.
The air had been punched out of Iron Fist as he grappled with Mister X on the ground, each man trying desperately to get some kind of leverage over the other. While Iron Fist had been trained by mystical agents of a long forgotten order, his opponent had years of brawling experience that superseded even the most rigorous training. His real life cage matches were a matter of life and death, and as a result, his theoretical knowledge of martial arts had been honed. Danny had been pitted against his fair share of opponents, but none with such an eclectic hand-to-hand background as Mister X.
Driving his right fist into Danny’s side again and again while his left grappled with keeping the hero down, Mister X grinned as he both felt and heard one of Danny’s ribs snap. The sudden jolt of pain normally would have weakened an adversary, and while Iron Fist did flinch, his muscles only flexed all the harder.
It was a technique taught to him by several of his former instructors to focus the mind in such a way that using anticipated pain could rally your senses. Knowing Mister X’s history with cage fighting, Danny knew that should he be pinned in a grapple that the ribs would provide an easy target and would likely be the first area Mister X would pound on. In advance of this he had reshaped his mental focus to anticipate the first rib cracking, using that sudden release of endorphins and adrenaline to invigorate his upper body strength.
Typically when grappling, when Mister X cracked someone’s ribs he expected them to cry out in pain and for their arms to go slack. Therefore he shifted his weight forward, intending to capitalize on Danny loosening his defense and drive his next blow directly into his throat. He was therefore surprised when Iron Fist not only failed to weaken, but instead shifted his own weight under him and flip him over.
Mister X was shocked to see Iron Fist pass beneath him as he was catapulted up off of the hero, but quickly regained his composure, twisting in midair and landing on his feet. As he turned Iron Fist sprung up, spinning and already in a defensive stance, expecting another series of blows.
Pausing, Mister X said, “Your discipline is admirable.”
“Thanks,” Iron Fist shot back. “I work out.”
“Do you really think you can defeat me with an injury? Especially when your friend is dying right next to you?”
Danny shot a glance at Cage, who was writhing on the ground, fighting against whatever Sing-Chu had thrown at him. He desperately wanted to aid his friend, but knew that to do so would be like signing his own death warrant. With someone like Mister X facing off against him, he had to be completely focused on what was directly in front of him.
“Something you should realize about Luke,” Danny said as he took a few steps to one side. “Every time he gets knocked down he has this bad habit of getting right back up again.”
“Then after I kill you I’ll help him overcome that nasty pattern.”
Mister X’s hands slashed through the air, slicing mere centimeters from Danny’s vital organs. Despite the pain in his side, Iron Fist bent and twisted, shifting his weight again and again. He spun several times as Mister X pressed forward with his strikes, building momentum and making sure to keep aware of his surroundings. The last thing he wanted was to bump into crates or the dynamo and be caught off guard.
After several chops that could have shattered him, Iron Fist finally saw his opening and took it. As Mister X lunged, instead of stepping backward again Danny stepped into the arc of his strike. Grabbing Mister X’s wrist as it sliced by his face, he drove his thumb straight between Mister X’s radius and ulna. The interosseous membrane broke and the appendage suddenly became useless.
Mister X retreated a step and cupped his wrist, but only for a brief moment. To his credit, he didn’t shout out in pain either, but it no longer mattered. As he took the smallest of pauses to shift his weight and put his good side facing his opponent, Iron Fist back-spun toward him and drove his elbow into his chin. Two teeth popped out of Mister X’s mouth before he hit the floor, unconscious.
“AH!” Cage roared.
Iron Fist looked over to see Cage crumple the bits of the disc that Sing-Chu had thrown at him, having just ripped it off of his own chest. There was fury in his eyes and he was seething with rage. He locked onto Danny and for a moment Iron Fist thought that Cage wasn’t in his right mind again.
“Easy, Luke,” Iron Fist said as he raised his hands, palms out. “Same side, bro. What did she do to you?”
Cage was struggling to catch his breath. “Some kind of repulser tech. It felt like the entire planet was sitting on my chest. It took everything I had to pry the damn thing off of me. God, I can’t wait to get my hands on that girl.”
But before they could advance into the warehouse, twin blasts of energy rocketed between them. Instinctively diving away from each other, the Heroes For Hire separated themselves so as not to leave easier targets for whoever was shooting at them.
Iron Fist took up position behind the knocked over crates as Cage pressed his back against the now operating dynamo. Cage peaked out first, saying, “Christmas…Dreadknight is back up again.”
“Stand still!” the armored villain shouted as he peppered the dynamo with several more blasts from his lance.
“Luke,” Danny shouted to get his friend’s attention and then pointed at his feet. “Want to handle this one like we did with Cottonmouth back in the day?”
Cage looked down, seeing a large steel bolt that was used for something on the dynamo, possibly a spare coil anchor. It looked to weigh around a hundred pounds. “Yeah,” he shot back. “Yeah, I think I do.”
Smirking, Danny crouched down and then leapt straight up onto the crate’s, drawing Dreadknight’s fire. Searing blasts of energy roared by his as his nimbly leapt onto the highest crate and then across the gap to the dynamo.
Cage caught him perfect in his palm, with Iron Fist perched on one foot like a crane. With a roar and a little effort, Cage launched Iron Fist across the warehouse in a high arc over Dreadknight. The villain, distracted by what looked like an aerial attack, never even saw Cage hoist the massive bolt up and throw it directly at him.
He certainly felt it, though.
Iron Fist landed almost playfully on his feet a few yards behind Dreadknight, whose armor did little to protect him from a hundred pound piece of metal being thrown at fifty miles an hour. The impact alone shattered several of his ribs. Iron Fist made sure to check that he was still breathing before motioning to Luke to move on.
They rushed around a corner, but saw they needn’t have bothered. Swearing profusely in Mandarin was Sing-Chu, bound by a hefty metal cable that Deathlok had wrapped her up in. Despite her protestations and the gravity of the situation, Iron Fist and Cage both couldn’t help but laugh. Deathlok had hogtied their captor, making her appear as nonthreatening as possible.
“Hey, guys,” Deathlok said as they approached. “All good?”
Cage clapped his hand with Deathlok’s, saying, “Yeah, man. We good.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
“—can’t say how sorry I am, boys. Honestly.”
Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony, it’s okay. Seriously. You hired us to do a job and that’s what we did.”
Now aboard a private jet heading back to the United States, Luke and Danny could finally relax. They had turned Sing-Chu, Mister X, and Dreadknight over to the authorities, although Deathlok wasn’t convinced they would stay out of the game for long. He thought about getting SHIELD involved, but as they had finished their assignment they decided to let him handle it. He knew the ins and outs of Madripor much better than they did these days.
Tony Stark didn’t look satisfied on the video conference screen. “I hired you to protect my interests, but you did way more than that. You both put your lives on the line and ended up reclaiming a ton of my lost shipments. I honestly had no clue that Wong-Chu had a daughter, or that she would be harboring a grudge. I just assumed it was corporate pirates stealing my tech.”
“Does that happen a lot?” Luke asked before inhaling a bag of potato chips from the plane’s minibar.
“More than I’m comfortable with, but if I’m being honest, it’s to be expected.”
“How so?” Danny asked.
“Well, I mean…I’m Iron Man.” The look on their faces was enough to tell Tony that he had more to explain. “I’m responsible for some of the most innovative technologies to ever exist. I’m also an Avenger. It’s not enough to say I have a target on my back. It’s more like I’m a walking beacon for trouble. Like Trump.”
“Aaaaand we’re done here,” Danny said as he sat forward to end the call.
“Wait,” Tony quickly said. “Seriously. Boys. Whatever you need, just let me know. I truly appreciate what you did for me.”
Danny raised an eyebrow as he shot Cage a glance, who shrugged in return and then nodded. “Okay,” Danny said. “Let’s talk about you investing in Heroes For Hire.”
# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Agent Travers.”
John Aman, the Prince of Orphans, tread back and forth inside his glass cage. Had not the unfortunate circumstances of his life led him to being under the control of this man, he would gleefully use the Blade of the Dragon to cut out his heart.
The Blade, once infused to Danny Rand, was now his to control. He had planned on using it to advance his own agenda, but Travers had intervened. He felt the presence of the deadly weapon mingled within his chi even now, yearning to come out and strike. But now was not the time.
Travers smirked. They were in his office at the Commission on Superhuman Activities, although Aman was sure that is his compatriots knew what he was really up to he would be locked up in the Vault. Travers looked down on the glass bottle he had contained Aman inside and his smile broadened.
“I appreciate the concern,” Travers replied, “but I can assure you that I have things well under my control. My sources tell me that both Rand and Cage are headed back to the United States as we speak. They’re headed for Chicago, likely to Cage’s apartment. When they get there, of course, they’ll be in for a pleasant surprise.”
“You’re referring to the boy?”
“Victor Alvarez will succeed where you failed,” Travers said. He stood up and tossed the papers he had been looking through carelessly on his desk, now more focused on the conversation. “But you’ll back him up, of course. I’m not so stupid as to send an untested asset into the field.”
“Like you did with Cage?”
“Yes…I suppose you want me to thank you for cleaning up after me? Might I remind you that you were supposed to kill Rand when you took the Blade from him?”*
* [PM & IF #3!]
Aman turned away, unwilling to continue the pointless conversation. If he were to have any chance of ridding himself of Travers, he would do well to start thinking of his own machinations once more. He didn’t know how to leverage both Iron Fist and Luke Cage against him yet, but he had faith that an opportunity would present itself.
“Mark my words,” Travers continued. “Before the next full moon we will both have our hearts’ desires. You will have K’un Lun and I will have access to ultimate power!”
NEXT ISSUE: The rematch of Iron Fist versus the Prince of Orphans! Plus, Cage comes face to face with his own past as the boys are thrown into the brawl of their lives. Travers puts the boys through the ringer, but what is his ultimate goal?