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[b]May 2nd, 2016
New York City
Rand Tower Sub-basement level[/b]

Beneath the heart of an empire, Orson Rand watched the heir to a legacy of warriors sixty six generations deep sleep like a harmless infant. Not for the first time he wondered if he had any right to be here, out of his long exile to the remotest backwaters of Southeast Asia, where the only people to speak his name were the ghosts that haunted him at night.

Well the ghosts, his dealers, the boy that ran the booze for him, the occasional purveyor of what Lei-Kung had called 'distractions of the flesh'...

Not that even those could distract him for long. Regardless, he was having the same argument with himself again. How could he not, when he stood inside a monument built out of his failures. Oh Wendell had certainly done well enough with what he'd been given, Orson would grant him that much. But the foundations of this place, still easy to find through the old tunnels...well, they were as old and useless as himself. Taking up much of the space was his old airship, the dead leviathan's frame of broken ribs poking through the skin of the envelope and making shame gnaw at him harder than any aching old wound. Worse than that was his father's old underground train, its' headlights glassy and empty, rust coating the rails out to the main tunnel's mouth as a gently festering reminder of what once could have been. It was all just like Wendell, always the collector, especially of things better left behind. Even the well-maintained training halls reminded him of his failure to properly prepare Wendell for the world.

That was one failure he would [b]not[/b] repeat with Danny. Even if it killed him.

He turned his attention to the boy now, asleep on a stacked up pile of training mats with Orson's trusty old duster thrown over him. He looked so much like Wendell had at that age but his face was softer and his hair lighter, probably the mother's touch there. The kid had Wendell's spirit too, all iron and dragon-fire and hurt, ready to lash out at the world. His form had been good, he'd struck with conviction and without hesitation when perceiving a threat. But he fought without guile, trickery, innovation. Most dangerously of all, he fought without understanding.

Except for the headbutt. Orson rubbed at his nose and chuckled. that one'd [b]hurt.[/b]

Danny stirred in the makeshift bed and Orson stepped a hairsbreadth out of what he'd judged to be the boy's range from there, just in case. A child's blue eyes opened in the daze of half-sleep and for an excruciating moment he recognized Wendell there, longed to melt away like a bad dream and find the pipe he'd discarded in Thailand, forget.

[color=seagreen]<<"Ugh, what hit me and why am I wearing a hobo's rag-jacket?">>[/color]

Moment over.

[color=mediumseagreen]<<"Way I figure it, the jacket actually improved your smell. S'been a while since I was in France for the latest fashions n' longer since I was a dumb kid, but I didn't know it was in style ta walk out of school wearing the distinct scent of [i]eau de toilette[/i]!">>[/color]

The anger got Danny up, visibly sharpened his focus as he locked onto the old man.

[color=seagreen]<<"I saw what you did and I know what I felt, you drew on the Chi of Shou-Lao. The unexpected mystic backlash was enough to knock me out and it still feels like it should be impossible! So...">>[/color] He looked Orson up and down, took in for the first time that without the coat on there was a dragon-marked uniform of the Living Weapon of K'un-L'un in front of his eyes similar to the one he'd secreted away. Curiosity burned along with anger in his eyes then. [color=seagreen]<<"you're another Iron Fist, and you knew my father. What else do you know?>>"[/color]

Orson didn't need any ancient magics to know his answer would seal Danny's fate. His mouth hardened into a grim line as he slipped a hand into a belt pouch and pulled forth a small cloth bag.

[color=mediumseagreen]"I know that [b]this[/b] is part of why your father died."[/color]

He pulled out a small fragment of crystal that immediately began to hum and glow with a soft golden light. As soon as it started, both Iron Fists could feel the pulses of energy it emitted with the hum, coursing and thudding like the beating of a heart.

[color=mediumseagreen]"It's a fragment of the Anomaly Gem, a gateway to the realm an Iron Fist's spirit goes to after death, and a link to their collective qi. Your father had been using his company's resources to gather up some of the scattered fragments, s'far as I can tell he was gonna present them to the Yu-Ti as an apology gift before he took up as the next Iron Fist. We both know he...he didn't make it that far. Somebody wanted his fragments and killed him to get them, not to mention stop the rise of another Iron Fist. I'm here because there's a fragment in New York. You're here because I might need an extra set of eyes...and there aren't many that I trust. I might be able to tell you more on the way, but for now, you'd better understand we're racing against others and that I'm your one shot at answers."[/color]

Orson already knew what he'd say. Honor and Vengeance both demanded nothing less.

[color=seagreen]"Fine. But you said 'on the way'. Where are we going?"[/color]

Orson gave Danny a grin that had no place on a face that old.

[color=mediumseagreen]"Where all the best stories start, kid. We're headed to a bar."[/color]