[center][b][color=fff200][sup][h1]T H E I R O N F I S T[/h1][/sup][/color][/b] [b][color=fff200][sup]Issue #1: [i]The Winter of Our Discontent[/i][/sup][/color][/b][/center] [COLOR=fff200][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]New York City, New York[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=darkgray]December 22[sup]nd[/sup], 2018 | 1:43am | Chinatown [/color][/sup][/INDENT][/INDENT] It was a pleasant night, though the bitter cold bit viciously at Danny's fingertips. The snow fell softly. It had been little more than a day since his incident at Harold Meachem's apartment, and Danny wasn't entirely sure what his next move should be. His revenge was stolen from him by an unknown assailant. The Triad was getting bolder in New York, with the Golden Tigers being the dominant gang running the streets. For now, all Danny could focus on was bringing the Tigers to justice. But tonight was slow. No one seemed to be out, instead situating themselves indoors with their families and loved ones. [color=fff200][i]Perhaps even the Golden Tigers took the holidays off.[/i][/color] Danny shook the thought. The gang operating out of Chinatown had caused nothing but pain and heartbreak. It was easier to bash skulls when not thinking about their families. So he turned his thoughts back to his own heartbeat. His breath. Every step was a moment of peace. Lei-Kung had taught him this form of meditation when he was a child. Danny's pace slowed down. It was in this state that his senses heightened. He was simply being present now, the world's distractions washing away into perfect being. In this heightened state, he heard the giggling of a young couple a block away. A small group of young men were gathered outside of a small bar, waiting for their cab. The faint sound of tires crunching snow... before harshly breaking. The doors slammed open. Something was wrong. Danny's eyes opened, and he dashed into action. From his pocket emerged his mask, which he quickly tied over his eyes. He wore a pair of yellow sweats, a yellow shirt, and a green hoodie. Anyone could easily assume this was just some jogger at first glance. Within moments, he was at the scene of the crime. A black van was idling outside of a small jewelry store. This seemed pathetic for the Golden Tigers. The Iron Fist approached the front of the store, his fists clenched as the street lights back-lit his figure. Inside, men in balaclavas were shoving as many jewels into their duffel bags as humanly possible. Only four in number. It took them a moment to notice the vigilante in the doorway. A smile cracked Danny's lips. [color=fff200]"With the number of superheroes and maniacs in New York, I have to give you credit. You have balls."[/color] The thieves drew hatchets, an odd choice given the nature of their crime. It was relieving that they didn't have guns, though. Bullets were harder to dodge. Two of the Hatchets ran at the Iron Fist, swinging downward. Two quick blocks along the shaft of the weapons, followed with a quick twisting of the wrists and a rip downward. They were disarmed, the hatchets clattering on the ground. Next came swings and blows. Each punch, and kick were expertly blocked and dodged by the Iron Fist. Despite his expertise, they were managing to force him out towards the sidewalk. The two remaining Hatchet's inside dropped their bags on the pavement and surrounded the outmanned vigilante. For a moment, the fighting stopped. [color=gray]""[/color] One of the Hatchets still armed practically spat out the words in Chinese. Danny shifted his foot slightly, changing his stance. He took two deep breaths, and then the two armed Hatchets charged. That was their great mistake. One swung towards the Iron Fist's ribs, while the other swung down at his back. Danny reversed the first attack, plunging the hatchet into the side of the other foe while grabbing the handle of the hatchet swinging towards his head. A swift kick at the knee of that Hatchet helped release the grip of his weapon. A few quick swings of the blunt-end of the hatchet at the two foes right next to him knocked them unconscious. He dropped the weapon and watched the other two hatchets skirt around the Iron Fist, having fetched their weapons once again. Iron Fist was taken aback as he heard the door of the van behind him slide open. Before he could turn around to defend himself, a whip wrapped around his right wrist. A strong force flipped him down towards the ground and onto his back. Danny looked up to see the foe standing over him, a man in a black leather jacket with a whip in his right hand. He wasn't wearing a mask, and his smile was wide with hate in his eyes. With a flick of the wrist, the Iron Fist was flung up into the air and then back down as the foe stepped out of the van. The other two Hatchets quickly circled around and got in to make their getaway. Danny didn't have much time to react. His left hand quickly reached over to his wrist, loosening the whip's hold and freeing his hand. His right hand clenched into a fist, glowing slightly just as the van's tires began to desperately grip for traction in the snow. Danny's fist lifted up and slammed into the ground, a large fissure in the pavement forming and shooting before the van. It was just large enough that when the van drove forward. The front left tire got caught in the new fissure just long enough for the Iron Fist to jump up to his feet and begin rushing towards the vehicle. The foe wielding the whip, someone Danny dubbed "Backlash" in his head, swung the weapon directly towards Danny's right fist. This was just the kind of move Iron Fist anticipated. Danny spun around, the whip cracking against the ground less than an inch from his back. He kept his momentum with the spin, managing to strike his fist against front of the van as it had just begun to catch traction and begin to speed up again. His Fist cut through the chassis like butter, reaching the engine block itself and shooting it with force out onto the street. The two Hatchet thieves in the front of the van broke through the windshield and slid onto the snowy Chinatown street, falling limp rather quickly. All that was left was Backlash, who squared up against Iron Fist as he turned around. Backlash cracked the whip left of the Iron Fist, anticipating Iron Fist to dodge right. The whip went right on the upswing, wrapping around Danny's left bicep. The speed of the whip ripped through Danny's shirt and hoodie, and blood began to seep through the clothing as a sharp gasp of pain escaped the Iron Fist's lips. With a flick of his arm, Backlash pulled the Iron Fist by the arm forward. His arm strained in its socket, an audible pop coming from the shoulder as the snow crunched under foot. Backlash attempted to meet the Iron Fist with a swift punch towards the face. Unfortunately for him, Danny clenched his right fist and it began to glow as he lifted it up to meet his foe's in defiance. Backlash's left fist crumbled, with the bones in the hand beginning to pierce through the skin. Backlash fell backwards from the force, screaming out in pain himself. His left hand was a broken mess drenched in blood, but he rolled onto his feet and kept his whip in his right hand. The whip cracked towards Danny's Fist, again piercing the skin and drawing some blood as it wrapped around the wrist. A flick of the wrist spun Danny around so the whip wound him up and kept the Fist close to his chest. Backlash let go of the whip briefly to deliver a quick blow to his chin, forcing Danny to spit blood in the process. Backlash was in control even when his whip had left his hand, as the handle of the whip spun back around and was caught in his grip within only a second. He flicked the weapon to his right, spinning Iron Fist out of the tangle of the whip and straight at the side of the van, creating a large dent in the van's closed door. The Iron Fist fell to his knees, blood tricking down from the corners of his lips and dripping into the white snow. A small smile escaped his lips. It had been months since anyone had even managed to give him a challenge. [color=fff200]"Fun gimmick... Why are you working with the Hatchets?"[/color] [color=gray]"They paid for my protection. Knew you've been operating in the area. Said you were dangerous, but clearly they were mistaken."[/color] With that final jab, he cracked his whip towards the Iron Fist's neck. Danny could barely breathe... but he was prepared for this. His fist lit up and slammed into the ground, firing a shockwave towards Backlash to launch him backwards. The whip launched Danny forward and tightened its grip around the vigilante. The Iron Fist almost blacked out, but managed to stay conscious long enough to see and grasp at a glint that came from the snow. A hatchet. The blade of the hatchet was raised up and cut through the fibers of the whip, freeing Danny's neck so that he could breathe. Backlash impacted into the glass of the storefront, flying into the jewelry store as Danny slid onto his back in the snow. Danny stayed there a moment, listening to see if Backlash was stirring. Apparently the final blow was too much for him. The Iron Fist rested in the bloody snow, staring up at the sky. [color=fff200][i]I am Daniel Rand... the Immortal Iron Fist... and I was nearly beaten by an Indiana Jones knock-off. I really need to step my game up.[/i][/color] The distant sounds of police sirens and a realization of what would happen if he was found here stirred Danny to his feet as he slipped into a nearby ally, disappearing into the cold winter's night.