[center][h2]The Master of Kung Fu [color=red] [b]Shang-Chi[/b][/color] [color=gold][i]The Immortal Iron Fist![/i][/color] [/h2][/center] [center] [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2390542]Previously[/url]... [i]Shang-Chi was looking to rack in some extra dough by throwing his fight against one of the top local MMA fighters. The two-timing promoter he made this shady deal with apparently had other plans and decided to leave without paying Shang-Chi his money! The Master of Kung Fu found himself tracking down the promoter, which led him to a nightclub called Wild Style Lounge. As if Shang-Chi wasn't agitated enough, the contemptuous avatar of the Iron Fist, Shao-Yu the Undying, resides within him. The demon has been a foul nuisance, putting Shang-Chi in an unwanted confrontation with three nightclub bouncers.[/i][/center] [center][i][b]PART 2: NO SHIRT? NO LOVE![/b] [/i] [b]Wild Style Lounge, NY[/b][/center] Flint Macintosh. A 45 year old former world champion turned bottom wrung fight promoter. He was the hometown hero in his heyday. They called him "The Dagger" because of his dagger-like jab that used to slice his opponents faces up in the ring. Funny how the name took on a whole new meaning once he hung his gloves up. Flint went into the business as a promoter hoping to "clean the sport up" and "make sure the fighters are treated fairly." Ten years in this business and he's done more harm than good. From bribing judges, to paying fighters to lose their fights on purpose, and cutting said fighters' pay because of "promoting fees". It didn't take long for Flint to go from hometown hero, to rotten sleaze ball. You'd think shortchanging trained professional fighters would make for a stupid occupational hazard, but the old lion is still a lion, and his fangs are deadlier than ever. "You want another one?" The bartender said, eyeing the new patron that Flint brought in with him. The newbie had a baby face look, but the guy was built like a tank. Celtic designs were tattooed on the sides of his shaved Mohawk. "Nah, Marky." Flint cut in, sitting down next to the young man who made the ex champ look like a child by size comparison. "He's cut off. My boy Tiger Blood here is training for a fight." "That never stopped you, Dagger!" The bartender laughed as he brought out a bottle of whiskey from under the table. The guy supposedly named Tiger Blood grinned, but Flint wasn't amused. "Damn straight, so keep it goin." Flint grabbed Tiger Blood's glass and set it down on his own coaster. Tiger Blood groaned, but Flint raised his hand with the click of his tongue. "You win four world class titles and defend em 23 times, then you can do whatever the hell you want. Right now, you don't even have a dime to ya name." Tiger Blood shamefully lowered his head, but after Flint took his shot of whiskey, the promoter drew in close and slapped the back of his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry kid. Before you know it your face is gonna be plastered all over New York so damn much, you're gonna get sick of lookin at ya self. You won't even need a god damn mirror, you'll be so popular!" Tiger Blood shook his head as he was being reassured. "Just take a look at some of those bums from tonight's fight card." Flint continued, gesturing to the bartender for another refill. "You've got more talent in ya left nut than anyone in there. O'Donnell ain't got nothin on ya. Hell, anyone could beat that little Asian guy he fought." Tiger Blood shook his head, mumbling incoherently and smiling right after. Flint busted up laughing. "You're damn right. Hell, my grandma could've beaten that Shang-Chi bum, and she's swimmin with the fishes!" Flint said. They both laughed. The bartender and Tiger Blood watched as Flint raised his shot glass. "Cheers!" Flint yelled, turning now to face Tiger Blood's entourage that was strewn about the VIP section of the bar. They've been racking up Flint's tab with shot-after-shot, but the promoter didn't mind. He'll be profiting off of his budding prospect in the same way Tiger Blood's entourage is leeching off of him now. The big bucks were coming, and Flint has every intention of shortchanging his fighter, even if it gets him bankrupt and back out on the streets. It wouldn't be the first time he's done it. "To the future undisputed heavyweight champion of the world!" There was a big crash, followed by loud screams from the clubbers downstairs. Tiger Blood's entourage peered down from the balcony, pointing and hollering. "Oh shit! Guys check this out!" One of them called out to Tiger Blood and Flint. They both looked at each other, puzzled, and then casually walked over to the balcony. Crowds of people were stampeding away from the violent chaos. Bodies were being flung across the room. "What's going o--" Flint gasped and went into panic mode. "Shit." In that moment, Flint locked eyes with a madman in medieval armor. He was swinging a giant mace around with no regard for human life. [center][img]http://cmro.travis-starnes.com/images/characters/war_yore.jpg[/img][/center] "DAGGER!!!" The armored man screamed from the top of his lungs, pointing his mace now up at Flint. "TIME TO COLLECT WHAT'S MINE!" [center]---[/center] Just as the three bouncers were charging at Shang-Chi from all sides, the double doors of the front entrance busted wide open. People swarmed out in a dazed panic. The bouncers immediately switch gears to the more pressing matter at hand. "Hey what the hell's going on in there?" One of the bouncers yelled into his walkie. Someone from the other end instantly replied."Some costumed freak is attacking people with a mace! Get the hell in here and help us!" "Let's go!" The bouncer said to the other two. "Leave the weirdo- hey! Where'd he go?" Shang-Chi took advantage of the situation and slipped away into the herd unnoticed. He entered the building, completely unaware of the trouble waiting for him inside. [center][i]End of Part 2![/i][/center]