[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/66Snsa1.jpg[/img][/center][hr][b]September 23rd, 1940 Near the Ain Gorge, France[/b] Unfortunately for me, the bastards who tied me up had enough imagination to do it somewhere remote. But once I had my memory back it hadn't taken me long to remember enough of France to find the right train tracks again and follow them here. 'course, I had to kill a few more men to point me in the right direction once I got out of the basement, not to mention burn chi like crazy to get here fast enough. But the important thing was I'd gotten here alright. The 'here' in question being a big old monster of a stone bridge all set to carry rail-mounted guns and who knew what else out of Paris...or was it into Paris? A night of breathing in what I could only assume was enough ether to knock out a dragon, ontop of dealing with my own drug-based demons and several blows to the head, well it all made for a pretty hazy state of mind. It took time and focus to properly heal oneself with the Chi of Shou-Lao, and right now I was shit out of both. But I could remember the mission well enough, which was more or less to smash up trains and train-lines however I could. Which brought me here, staring up at a big stone bridge where the forest met the shores of the Ain River. I had no gear, no backup, and no explosives but my plan was pretty simple. I figured I'd just destroy it with my bare hands, considering it'd be the last thing anyone would expect. Well, that was provided I could still use the Iron Fist at all. Parlor tricks with a knocked-in tooth were fine, but I hadn't tried the Iron Fist proper since I walked out of that bomb-blasted drug den in Marseilles and signed on with the Resistance the very same day. Hadn't wanted to find out I might... There was no more time to think about it, I leaped up into a tree and started hopping up from tree-branch to tree-branch. By the time I reached the tip-top of the one nearest to the bridge, I figured I could make it onto the first crossing level, the one for cars that needed to cross, as long as I had a good jump in me. I breathed in, let the breath fill me with that energy-that-surrounds-all-things Lei-Kung was so fond of rambling on, then sailed through the air easy as a summertime kite. There was an easier approach to the top level of the bridge, but there was also no sense getting spotted by some antsy villager or a collaborator on guard who needed a piss over the side. I landed in a roll on the hard stone and didn't waste any time looking for guards here on the lower level. If they spotted me I'd have to keep going anyways, or risk failing the mission. So I just found a crack in the stones to use as an initial handhold and started climbing the support pillar that connected the two levels of the bridge. I guess most men wouldn't have tried to scale the masonry that way, in the dead of night, in hostile country, and with no tools. Most men weren't raised in the mountain heights of K'un-L'un, made to climb every day since the age of eight even when their fingers were numb with frostbite and a long day of punching buckets of hot gravel. I inched up that wall, willing strength into my fingers and toes, punching new handholds in where I found none, and grateful for the Thunderer's training having already deadened my hands to pain for decades. I wondered what the Thunderer would think of me now, greatest student of my generation, covered in muck and blood, once again fighting in the wars of mortal men. He'd spared my life last time he saw me, recognized me for the broken weapon I was and left me to rust in peace. Would he feel sorrow to see me, or pride? Maybe he'd just throw some ancient wisdom in my face, impassive, but always teaching. Even after all these years my old master was still a mystery. The bastard. My thoughts trailed off as I grasped the top of the ledge and pulled myself up. I walked to the center of the bridge, preparing my mind for what came next. I breathed slow, reaching out for the Heart of the Dragon, letting its' fiery energy course through me more than I had in years. The night sharpened until I could count the stars in the sky, hear the rush of the river over seventy meters below me like I had my ear pressed to it, feel each bump and smooth spot in the stones through my boots. I burned with life, feeling it all, connected to it all. No more haze of ether, no more crawling, squirming addiction. No more ghosts staring at me out of the corners of my eyes. [b][i]This[/i][/b], this right here was the only drug I could ever need. I was powerful, I was immortal, I was... [b][i]Alive.[/i][/b] I tried to focus it, the living fire inside me, temper it with all that I was, all that made me Orson Randall, focus it into my fist... I would've screamed loud enough to give myself away if I didn't bite down on my cheek until I tasted blood hot on my tongue all over again. My hand felt like I'd just caught an exploding grenade, blasted it to bone chips and meat pulp. Even after looking down at it with my own eyes it was hard to believe it was still there, unharmed. The shock of it had me shaking in my boots and wanting to collapse right there on the train tracks. But I couldn't give up, just the thought of it started to make the ghosts drift out from the river underneath me. I just had to... My hearing, still sharpened by the energy that had just tried to devour my hand, picked up the unmistakable sound of a train barreling down the tracks. I was too late. I'd been too slow or got knocked out too long, couldn't control my powers to destroy the bridge fast enough. The reason didn't matter, I'd failed. I could see the faces of everyone I'd already failed drifting in front of me again. There were so many from the last war, the one we thought would end all of them. Wendell was there too, always there looking like he did right before I'd lost him to K'un-Lun: so angry, with a hunger in his eyes for a life I could never give him. No, I couldn't fail them all again. Not even with a train barreling down on me like a falling mountain. I reached deep into the Chi of Shou-Lao, opened myself up to it even more, diving into an ocean of fire. I poured it all into my hand, forcing through the agony as I felt my hand start to smolder, to glow, to [b][color=gold]burn[/color][/b]. The light from the front of the train lit the night, the scream of a hell-beast came from the engine as it spewed smoke into the black sky, shaking the whole world with its' unstoppable charge. A three hundred ton dragon made of fire and steel and all of mankind's sorcery raced towards me. I'm The Immortal Iron Fist. [url=http://tinyurl.com/Orsonpunch]Killing dragons is my specialty. [/url]