“Like unto a thing of iron.”

How many times had he heard Danny say that over the years when he was explaining his powers? How many times had he countered with “skin like steel.”

When the old man landed a spinning back fist to his jaw, Luke remembered that steel was an alloy of iron. When the old man followed the fist with a jumping spin kick that drove him to the mat, he was suddenly aware of how much trouble he was in.

He couldn’t believe he was getting his ass kicked by an old man dressed like Iron Fist and instead of fighting back he was doing chemistry in his head.

“I guess if you spend that much time fighting Chemistro, or, in my case, Chemistros, you pick up a little something,” he thought.

Luke rolled right, avoiding a nasty stomp. He grabbed the man’s ankle and yanked. The other Fist flew across the ring, but instead of landing in a heap like Luke planned, the Other Fist pivoted gracefully in the air and landed on his feet. The crackling sound of focused chi filled the air.

“Gimme a break,” thought Luke as he pulled himself to his feet using the cage.

Luke sensed the punch more than he saw it. He threw his forearm up to block the punch, expecting the old man’s chi to burn right through his shirt. Instead the punch bounced off his raised forearm, knocking the old man back a step.

“Come on…” Luke said before he saw that the old man’s foot was surrounded by a glowing corona of chi.

“That’s just not fair,” thought Luke as the old man launched a roundhouse kick at his head.

AND IN THIS CORNER…

Part II

By Bruce Cook

“What the hell was that, Majors?” Danny Rand demanded as he pointed to the monitor.

“A very well executed roundhouse kick.”

“Don’t get cute! Who is that?”

“An Iron Fist.”

“You can’t be ‘an’ Iron Fist. I am THE Iron Fist.”

“That’s not what it looks like from here,” replied Majors.

“I don’t know what kind of stunt you’re pulling here, but I’m putting a stop to it.”

“Need I remind you that we have a contract?”

“Need I remind you I’m a millionaire? I don’t need your money.”

With that Danny Rand stormed out of the control room.

Dominic Majors activated the communication device nestled in his ear.

“Time for the next act.”

“Roger that sir,” said Mike, Majors’ assistant.

Majors wiped his finger across the screen of his smartphone until he came to the logo of M-1 World. Then he tapped the logo, opening up the underlying program.

“There’s an app for this,” he said as he tapped again.

Back in the cage

Luke Cage squeezed his eyes shut in hopes of pushing the freight train out of his head. It didn’t work. Every time he opened his eyes he was treated bright spots of red light dancing in his field of vision.

“All these years and I’ve never seen Danny do anything like that,” he thought, pushing himself up to his hands and knees.

The next kick landed on the left side of his jaw. Luke was pretty sure he felt a tooth come loose.

He felt for the chain link in the fence and pulled himself to his feet, still unable to see his opponent clearly. He put his fists up in front of his face to ward off the next blow.

“Can I say I told you so?”

“Fist?”

“The original.”

“I noticed you didn’t say the one and only.”

“Do you want my help or not? He’s about to kick you again.”

“Just ‘til I can see again.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Danny Rand grabbed the fence surrounding the ring and flipped himself over the top. He landed facing the old man in a ready position. The crowd roared its approval.

“Who are you?” asked Danny.

“I’m the Iron Fist,” he replied.

“That’s funny, so am I.”

“So you’re the one,” said the old man.

“And this is the Matrix?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” said Danny. “We could always just walk out of here and talk.”

The old man yelled and charged.

“Nobody ever wants to talk,” Danny thought as he joined the fray.

Backstage – locker room

Vampiro sat on the bench lacing up his boots like he had done at hundreds of times before. He took this fight because of the money, plain and simple. He would make more tonight than in a year in the countless small arenas around Mexico.

Still, fighting for money seemed somehow less…noble.

This thought process died stillborn as Vampiro’s brain conscious brain shut down. In its place was a single thought.

KILL THE HEROES FOR HIRE!

Vampiro headed for the ring.

In that very ring

The strobes finally stopped popping behind Luke Cage’s eyes. He took a moment to look around.

Danny was fighting the old Iron Fist.

The crowd was on its feet. They wanted blood.

If that weren’t bad enough, the curtains at the top of the ramp parted and all of the rest of the fighters on the card barreled toward the ring, their eyes glassy like the other Iron Fist.

“Incoming,” he had time to shout before the Hispanic guy dressed like a vampire sailed over the top of the cage and headed right for him.

Luke grabbed him by the arm and slammed him to the ground.

“Shouldn’t you be sparkling?

Backstage – the control room

“Sir, might I suggest it’s time for us to get out of here?”

Dominic Majors turned to his assistant, Mike. The wall of monitors danced with the mayhem taking part in the arena above.

“They’re eating it up Mikey.”

“They certainly are.”

“You think HE will approve.”

“Most certainly.”

Dominic Majors turned one last time to gaze at what he had created. Had he been capable, a tear would have fallen from his eye. Instead, he picked up his coat and walked toward the door.

“Let’s go.”

Back in the ring

No matter what Danny did, the old man had a counter. Very often the counter worked better than his initial strike.

“I want to know who you are,” he said, ducking a palm heel strike aimed at his rib cage.

“I am the champion of K’un Lun. I am the Iron Fist.”

“I get that, but what does it say on your driver’s license?” asked Danny, landing a push kick to the man’s sternum.

The old man staggered back against the cage and looked at Rand.

“My name? Not that it matters, but my name is Orson Randall.”

Danny felt like he had been kicked in the gut. It was a name he had heard his father mention. The man had been a father figure to his old man.

“You can’t be Orson Randall. He’s dead.”

“And you can’t be the Iron Fist, but here we are.”

The two men circled one another feinting blow after blow. Danny’s mind screamed with unanswered questions.

“This is getting us nowhere,” the old man said, finally. “I don’t belong here.”

With that, he did a leapt backwards, grabbed the cage and flipped over the top to the floor outside. He landed softly and then ran for the curtain at the top of the ramp. The crowd booed.

Danny watched him go, unsure of what to do next.

“Incoming!” yelled Luke, breaking Danny from his reverie.

Danny instinctively wheeled and threw a roundhouse kick. It caught the man known as the Kangaroo squarely on the jaw. He fell to the mat in a heap.

Danny turned to see Luke sparring with Batroc.

“Can you handle this? I really need to follow him.”

“Dude, it’s Batroc. Get out of here.”

Without another word, Danny leapt over the fence and followed the old man through the curtain.

Luke

“How the hell did I end up squared up with Batroc?” wondered Luke as he parried another savate kick.

“You dare insult me! On pay-per-view!” screamed the Leaper.

“Man, I’d insult you on free TV given half a chance.”

The floor of the cage was littered with the bodies of the other fighters. When Iron Fist has disposed of the Kangaroo that left only Luke and Batroc standing.

Batroc kicked at Luke again. Luke grabbed his leg, spun Batroc in place and then staggered him with a head butt.

“There’s another reason for the tiara,” he thought.

Batroc was upright, but wobbly. In a moment of inspiration, Luke picked Batroc up, took a pair of running steps and then drove Batroc into the mat with a running power slam. The crowd roared.

“Eat your heart out, Junkyard Dog,” thought Luke as he climbed back to his feet.

The crowd started chanting “CAGE! CAGE! CAGE!”

Luke couldn’t help himself. He put his foot on Batroc’s chest and flexed.

Backstage

Danny could hear the old man’s feet slapping the concrete in the corridor in front of him.

He couldn’t be Orson Randall…could he? Randall was the reason his father was obsessed with K’un Lun. Randall was the reason he was an orphan.

Danny was still trying to puzzle it out when he rounded a corner and found the old man holding Dominic Majors against the wall by his throat. Mike was out cold on the floor beside them.

“Karma,” thought Danny.

“A little help here Mr. Rand?” hissed Majors.

The old man let go of Majors, who began to massage his throat.

“You owe me some answers Majors.”

“Alas, that’s not in the cards tonight,” said Majors.

Majors tapped a button on his smartphone and the wall behind him seemed to fold in on itself. A glowing portal opened.

The old man looked from Rand to the portal and back. Then he set off in a dead run down the hall.

“It looks like you have a choice to make. Me or the other Iron Fist. Lady or the Tiger Mr. Rand? Lady or the Tiger?”

Danny hesitated only for a moment.

“We aren’t done Majors,” he said and then chased after the old man.

Majors watched him leave. He kicked Mikey in the ribs.

“On your feet. Time to go home.”

“Did we win?” asked Mikey, groggily.

“Yes, we did.”

With that, Majors and Mikey stepped into the portal. It closed behind them without a sound.

Outside the arena

The metal door slammed into the wall when Danny kicked it open. He found himself in the building’s underground parking garage. Unfortunately, instead of seeing the old man running through an empty lot, he found himself swept up in the mob of fans exiting the fights.

“Hey! You’re that Iron Fist dude!”

“Well, he’s one of them.”

“That was an epic twist. Did y’all plan that or was it a surprise?”

Danny tried to break free of the crowd, but they swarmed him. They asked questions. They asked for autographs. Flashbulbs exploded, ruining his vision.

The crowd pushed him further into the garage.

“Folks, I need to go,” he said.

They didn’t hear him.

Someone forced a beer into his hand.

That’s when he caught sight of Orson Randall. The old man was leaning against the doorframe of another stairwell. He gave Danny a nod of respect and then slipped into the stairwell.

“Another time then,” thought Danny, pointing his beer at the door as it closed with a thud. “Another time.”

Danny but the bottle to his mouth and drank.

Later

When Dominic Majors disappeared, so did the limo, their plane tickets and their paycheck. A quick call to the office in New York later and Jenny Royce had secured them transport to the airport. A private plane was waiting to take them home.

“…wasn’t a complete loss,” said Luke, tapping the championship belt that lay across his lap.

“How can you say that? We were duped on every level. Instead of a healthy payout, this job is going to end up costing us several thousand dollars. And did I mention the guy claiming to be Orson Randall?”

“Only every second since I found you pounding brews in the parking lot.”

“You take your bliss where you find it.”

“Well, I found mine by kicking Batroc’s ass and winning this fine belt. Do you think it will clash with my tiara?”

“Oh god,” said Iron Fist slapping his forehead with his open palm.

Both men laughed as the limo pulled into the airport.

The Las Vegas Strip

Orson Randall still wasn’t sure how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was mentoring a werewolf in upstate New York. The next thing he knew, he was inside a cage with Power Man. Luckily, he’d been able to get away without hurting either Power Man or the other Iron Fist.

He had to admit, the kid was good. Not as good as him, but good.

He’d managed to trade his sweaty mask for a long brown overcoat. After that it was easy to disappear into the Vegas night. Now all he had to do was figure out what to do next.

A black Mercedes convertible pulled up next to him. The top was down and the occupants seemed to be enjoying themselves. A wild-eyed man was behind the wheel. There was a blond in the front side beside him and another sitting behind him, running her hands through his hair.

“It’s a good night to be a warlock,” the man said to Orson Randall. The women giggled.

“Looks like.”

“You need a ride man? “

“Sure,” said Orson.

“Hop in,” said the driver.

Orson hopped into the backseat. The blonde immediately took her hands out of the driver’s hair and put them in Orson’s.

“You must have some of the tiger blood in you m’man.”

“Dragon.”

“What?”

“Dragon blood.”

“Awesome! I wish I’d thought of that! WINNING!”

The light turned green and the driver stepped on the gas. The limo peeled away from the intersection into the Vegas night.

Epilogue

The monitors replayed the M-1 World fights over and over. They played from every conceivable angle and even a few that were inconceivable. They played at full speed, half speed, double speed. There was a special monitor that displayed 1960s style action words each time someone got hit.

They all played for one being. He laughed maniacally when Luke Cage power slammed Batroc into the mat.

The man who had been Dominic Majors entered the room. He had shed his fight promoter gear and returned to his traditional garb.

“I assume you are enjoying the new programming sir?”

The being watching the fights spun on robotic spider legs. His eyes were held open wide by cybernetic pinchers.

“They are perfect, Major Domo. Tell me, how did you do it?”

“It was quite simple really. It’s like you always say, lead with a big wad of cash. The rest will take care of itself.”

Mojo cackled.

“It’s like Shaft meets Bruce Lee with a side of El Santo. It’s near perfect programming. When is the next episode?”

“Soon sir,” said Major Domo. “Very soon.”

Mojo’s smile split his face horrifically as he turned back to the monitors.