4vA]^#PG#IN-3#ST-2#SP-2#DR-3#EP-3#FS-6#AD
Post by Danny Rand on Oct 1, 2008 21:39:59 GMT -5
[Brubaker, Ed and Matt Fraction (w), David Aja, Travel Foreman, and Derek Fridolfs (a), and Matt Hollingsworth (c)] “The Last Iron Fist Story part 5” The Immortal Iron Fist, #5, (June 2007), Publisher: Marvel Publishing, Inc. [4-10]
Adapted By: Danny Rand
My name is Danny Rand... and my arsenal of kung-fu is rich and deep. I pray to God... that it will be enough.
Golden star gouge. Strike of the silkworm's tooth. Burning dove chop.
The names of the strikes and stances flowed smoothly through Danny's mind, the names and motions so familiar to him that repeating them in his mind felt like second nature, made him feel as if he was twelve years old again and back under the tutelage of Lei Kung the Thunderer. But he was not twelve. That was twenty years past. He was not back in K'un-Lun, under Lei Kung's critical eye. He was in New York, and in, had he the time to stop and think about it, one of the strangest situations he had ever been in.
Not that he had much time to think. Too many Hydra agents to let his mind dwell on such matters. Or was it Hydra soldiers? He'd have to ask Luke. Luke probably knew what to call them. Soldiers seemed more appropriate a term, anyways. They swarmed the hidden subway station, the echoing roar of their machine guns overpowered only by their cries of "Hail Hydra!"
Palm of forty sorrows. Tiger scratch (2nd stance). Drunken wasp sting.
No. He was wrong there. There was one sound that seemed to separate itself from the machine gun prattle and the shouts of men who had given their minds and souls to Hydra utterly and completely. It was the constant steady crack crack crack of pistols behind him. Orson Randall. Another Iron Fist.
How strange to learn all this. And so many questions! But those would have to wait. Danny couldn't tell how many Hydra men he and Orson had taken down already, and yet they still swarmed the ancient subway station, two men for each one they had felled.
Good fortune thunder kick. Brooklyn headbutt.
A flying kick, and Danny sent one unlucky Hydra agent flying straight through the train. Literally. In one window. Out the other side. A moments respite, thankfully.
"Ha!" Orson's gruff voice rung above the noise. "Good one!"
"Thanks, Orson." Danny called back, once again beset by Hydra. Silence. Orson's guns had stopped firing. "Orson?!?" Danny's attentions were diverted momentarily as he snapped his heads towards where he thought he had heard the last pistols fire from. Had Orson fallen? No. He was making his way inside one of the abandoned trains that lay here. Safe spot for hiding to get some good shots, maybe? Danny had seen it in the past. Was Orson hurt?
Thankfully, fighting legions upon legions of Hydra allowed Danny to move as he fought. swatting down the gun-toting soldiers like flies (really, really big flies), he managed to work his way towards the car where Orson had disappeared into. The train car was being assailed by gunfire. Too much gunfire for him to handle. And yet, within moments, he found himself atop the trains' first car, being closed in on both sides. This was easier. This gave him a vantage and them less room to maneu--
"DANNY." Orson again, below and behind him, in the front. "Don't jump quite yet, okay?"
Wait, what? "Don't what? Why would I jum--"
SSKKKKKRRRREEEEEE.
Orson didn't wait to reply or even let him finish asking the question. The train lurched to life suddenly, rocketing ahead faster than Danny believed any train cold move. He managed to keep his footing, but barely. Those of Hydra were not so lucky. "Orson?" he breathed more to himself than anything. "What--"
"NOW JUMP."
Danny didn't even ask or think. He leaped off the side in a diving roll, Orson bursting through the glass on the other side. The train charged ahead wildly, picking up speed, bowling over and crushing any Hydra unlucky enough to be in its way. But the track did not go on forever, and the train rammed into one of the support walls that had been bricked off with a phenomenal crash and explosion, killing and maiming many.
Danny didn't watch the crash. Danny didn't wonder at how many died. He and Orson ran the opposite way. All he knew was what he felt and heard, and the heat at his back told him it was to be a grand spectacle if he chose to stop and watch. He didn't. Orson was with him, he knew. Behind him, not far. No pursuit. He knew that, as well.
They didn't run far. Up and out was the way they wanted to go now. The pair clamored up the nearest manhole ladder they came across, Danny in the lead still. The cover was in place, but one well-placed punch took care of that. WOOOHM. The lid was airborne, then skidded off down the street somewhere.
Ahh, fresh air! Well, as fresh as one could expect in New York. Still, it was better than the sewers. He had to give it that. Lifting himself out of the hole partway, Danny turned to help haul a coughing Orson up the last few rungs to the surface. he looked more winded than hurt. Good.
"C'mon," he offered, slipping in under Orson's arm to help drag him off into the nearest alley. "We have to get off the streets. they'll come looking for us."
Orson shuffled along reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder towards the city's skyline, partially lit against the barely visible dawn. Danny tugged gently on Orson, trying to urge him forward. "We have to--"
"I know." Orson panted. "I just-- I'm just saying goodbye."
The words hung heavily as they made the last steps into the alley, Danny disentangling himself from Orson. Goodbye? In the depths of his heart Danny knew what the solid finality of Orson's goodbye meant. He knew it. But he had no time to think about it.
"Here." Orson shoved something that glowed with a soft yellow light into Danny's hands, breaking the heavy silence. "I got you something."
Startled by the act, Danny fumbled momentarily with the object. He'd seen Orson carrying it near the end, but it hadn't even registered in Danny's brain to look at it or ask about it. Until now, of course. "What is this thing?"
"The history of the Iron Fist. Written on parchment made from the scales of Shou-Lao himself."
Danny only half listened as he thumbed through the glowing book.
"That's why it glows when we touch it," Orson went on. "We all draw our power from the same source." He bent over, one hand cradling his forehead. " The secrets of our kung fu. From the very first Iron Fist, to the one who preceded me."
"All of their kung fu?" Danny asked incredulously, finally tearing his gaze from the book's glowing pages. Orson nodded and gazed at him with an expression so serious that Danny could only frown in reply.
"Read up, boy. You'll need it for what's coming next."
Uh-oh. "Next?" he asked, not liking the tone of Orson's voice.
Orson nodded, letting his gaze fall to the pavement once more. "They'll come after you... Just after they came after me."
Again. Uh-oh. This... this didn't sound good...
Adapted By: Danny Rand
My name is Danny Rand... and my arsenal of kung-fu is rich and deep. I pray to God... that it will be enough.
Golden star gouge. Strike of the silkworm's tooth. Burning dove chop.
The names of the strikes and stances flowed smoothly through Danny's mind, the names and motions so familiar to him that repeating them in his mind felt like second nature, made him feel as if he was twelve years old again and back under the tutelage of Lei Kung the Thunderer. But he was not twelve. That was twenty years past. He was not back in K'un-Lun, under Lei Kung's critical eye. He was in New York, and in, had he the time to stop and think about it, one of the strangest situations he had ever been in.
Not that he had much time to think. Too many Hydra agents to let his mind dwell on such matters. Or was it Hydra soldiers? He'd have to ask Luke. Luke probably knew what to call them. Soldiers seemed more appropriate a term, anyways. They swarmed the hidden subway station, the echoing roar of their machine guns overpowered only by their cries of "Hail Hydra!"
Palm of forty sorrows. Tiger scratch (2nd stance). Drunken wasp sting.
No. He was wrong there. There was one sound that seemed to separate itself from the machine gun prattle and the shouts of men who had given their minds and souls to Hydra utterly and completely. It was the constant steady crack crack crack of pistols behind him. Orson Randall. Another Iron Fist.
How strange to learn all this. And so many questions! But those would have to wait. Danny couldn't tell how many Hydra men he and Orson had taken down already, and yet they still swarmed the ancient subway station, two men for each one they had felled.
Good fortune thunder kick. Brooklyn headbutt.
A flying kick, and Danny sent one unlucky Hydra agent flying straight through the train. Literally. In one window. Out the other side. A moments respite, thankfully.
"Ha!" Orson's gruff voice rung above the noise. "Good one!"
"Thanks, Orson." Danny called back, once again beset by Hydra. Silence. Orson's guns had stopped firing. "Orson?!?" Danny's attentions were diverted momentarily as he snapped his heads towards where he thought he had heard the last pistols fire from. Had Orson fallen? No. He was making his way inside one of the abandoned trains that lay here. Safe spot for hiding to get some good shots, maybe? Danny had seen it in the past. Was Orson hurt?
Thankfully, fighting legions upon legions of Hydra allowed Danny to move as he fought. swatting down the gun-toting soldiers like flies (really, really big flies), he managed to work his way towards the car where Orson had disappeared into. The train car was being assailed by gunfire. Too much gunfire for him to handle. And yet, within moments, he found himself atop the trains' first car, being closed in on both sides. This was easier. This gave him a vantage and them less room to maneu--
"DANNY." Orson again, below and behind him, in the front. "Don't jump quite yet, okay?"
Wait, what? "Don't what? Why would I jum--"
SSKKKKKRRRREEEEEE.
Orson didn't wait to reply or even let him finish asking the question. The train lurched to life suddenly, rocketing ahead faster than Danny believed any train cold move. He managed to keep his footing, but barely. Those of Hydra were not so lucky. "Orson?" he breathed more to himself than anything. "What--"
"NOW JUMP."
Danny didn't even ask or think. He leaped off the side in a diving roll, Orson bursting through the glass on the other side. The train charged ahead wildly, picking up speed, bowling over and crushing any Hydra unlucky enough to be in its way. But the track did not go on forever, and the train rammed into one of the support walls that had been bricked off with a phenomenal crash and explosion, killing and maiming many.
Danny didn't watch the crash. Danny didn't wonder at how many died. He and Orson ran the opposite way. All he knew was what he felt and heard, and the heat at his back told him it was to be a grand spectacle if he chose to stop and watch. He didn't. Orson was with him, he knew. Behind him, not far. No pursuit. He knew that, as well.
They didn't run far. Up and out was the way they wanted to go now. The pair clamored up the nearest manhole ladder they came across, Danny in the lead still. The cover was in place, but one well-placed punch took care of that. WOOOHM. The lid was airborne, then skidded off down the street somewhere.
Ahh, fresh air! Well, as fresh as one could expect in New York. Still, it was better than the sewers. He had to give it that. Lifting himself out of the hole partway, Danny turned to help haul a coughing Orson up the last few rungs to the surface. he looked more winded than hurt. Good.
"C'mon," he offered, slipping in under Orson's arm to help drag him off into the nearest alley. "We have to get off the streets. they'll come looking for us."
Orson shuffled along reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder towards the city's skyline, partially lit against the barely visible dawn. Danny tugged gently on Orson, trying to urge him forward. "We have to--"
"I know." Orson panted. "I just-- I'm just saying goodbye."
The words hung heavily as they made the last steps into the alley, Danny disentangling himself from Orson. Goodbye? In the depths of his heart Danny knew what the solid finality of Orson's goodbye meant. He knew it. But he had no time to think about it.
"Here." Orson shoved something that glowed with a soft yellow light into Danny's hands, breaking the heavy silence. "I got you something."
Startled by the act, Danny fumbled momentarily with the object. He'd seen Orson carrying it near the end, but it hadn't even registered in Danny's brain to look at it or ask about it. Until now, of course. "What is this thing?"
"The history of the Iron Fist. Written on parchment made from the scales of Shou-Lao himself."
Danny only half listened as he thumbed through the glowing book.
"That's why it glows when we touch it," Orson went on. "We all draw our power from the same source." He bent over, one hand cradling his forehead. " The secrets of our kung fu. From the very first Iron Fist, to the one who preceded me."
"All of their kung fu?" Danny asked incredulously, finally tearing his gaze from the book's glowing pages. Orson nodded and gazed at him with an expression so serious that Danny could only frown in reply.
"Read up, boy. You'll need it for what's coming next."
Uh-oh. "Next?" he asked, not liking the tone of Orson's voice.
Orson nodded, letting his gaze fall to the pavement once more. "They'll come after you... Just after they came after me."
Again. Uh-oh. This... this didn't sound good...
4vA]^#PG#IN-7#ST-7#SP-7#DR-7#EP-7#FS-1