The Man with the Iron Fists

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Foxx
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The Man with the Iron Fists

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OOC: I'm going to give this a Mature Rating. I may or may not be that graphic in description of injuries and fights, and what I consider to not be that graphic may be for you. So to be on the safe side, consider this rated Mature.

IC:

The bed was cold, a simple mat of woven straw and fibers. But to a body aching, it was a wonderful reprieve, a comfort that was valued more than anything. For Owen Reilly, it was just that. It wasn’t the first bed of it’s kind that he’d had, and over the years it, and the ones in the past, had been places of solace and rest. This particular night, it was more than just that. It was a place of true peace. His mind wasn’t busy, wasn’t full of thoughts. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was stable. The meditative trance that he was in was deep, and he felt as if he was not in himself. Owen Reilly had known this room his whole life, but tonight, it felt different.

In his meditative trance, he went back through the years of his life.

His parents had been a part of Daniel Rand’s corporation, the Rand Corporation. When he had perished, during the Chrell Invasion, many people had thought that he had not actually died, but that he had been taken, unconscious, to K’un-L’un, one of the Seven Capitals of Heaven. There, he had been recovering and recuperating. While it was something worthy to believe, the odds were against the theory from being fact. The gateway to K’un-L’un only opened once every ten years after all. The odds were not favorable at all. Owen’s parents had been of that belief, and they had spurred attempts at the Rand Corporation to monitor the gateway into K’un-L’un, hoping for the Iron Fist’s return. The Iron Fist was Immortal. Not in the literal sense, but there was no way that Daniel Rand could have fallen to the Chrell.

Finally, after some years, Owen’s parents had opted to make the arduous journey to K’un-L’un, divining the time when the gateway would be open. But it wasn’t just the two of them that would make the trip, rather it would be the three of them. His mother had been pregnant with him during the time, but hadn’t told his father, and she had not been showing yet. His father had never known that she was pregnant, as she’d known that if he had known, he would never hav allowed her to go with him on the trip. Wanting to support her husband, she had gone with him, knowing that the trip was dangerous and could be fatal. Indeed it had been.

His father had died in the attempt, and his mother had barely been able to make it to K’un-L’un. When she had, what she found had been astounding.

Daniel Rand, the Immortal Iron Fist, the Living Weapon, had truly died.

She was grateful that her late husband never was able to find out the truth. Knowing that she was going to have to adjust to even a temporary life in K’un-L’un, Owen’s mother settled, preparing for the birth that she knew was going to happen. A few months later, Owen had been born, and unfortunately his mother had died in childbirth. He was an orphan in a city of people who he knew nothing about. No one to care for him, no one to claim him. The August Personage in Jade had decided that the city as a whole would adopt the child, named Owen Reilly. From an early age, Owen had learned that nothing would be given to him, and that he would have to earn everything that he got. So he learned and he fought, scrambling and clawing his way up. The August Personage in Jade trained him, apprenticing him to a man called the Thunderer. The Thunderer was one of K’un-L’un’s greatest champions, and greatest warriors. He taught Owen, sparing no expense in constantly reminding the young boy that he was an outcast, and not of the city.

If he wanted the respect of his fellow citizens, then he would have to earn it.

Constantly, Owen was put through tests, and his training continued as he grew older and older. The training was rigorous and the days were long, with the nights always feeling much too short. It seemed as though there was never enough time for him to fit all of his studies. But he tried, oh, how he tried to make the Thunderer proud of him, and he tried to make the people around him proud of him. Entered into the various competitions that the city had, he excelled in all of them, making those around him marvel at his prowess at unarmed combat. Many found it hard to believe that an outsider could master the martial arts of K’un-L’un like Owen could, feeling that only Daniel Rand or Orson Randall were the exception to that steadfast rule. At the age of fourteen, he had been entered into one competition and had emerged victorious, earning the title of Crown of Fu-Hsi, king of vipers. At sixteen, he had fought and defeated four foes in the Challenge of the Many.

His body had been scarred from the beatings that he took, and the conditioning that he was subjected to. Every day, the seven mile runs, carrying sacks ladened with rocks from the quarries. Every day, the martial arts, as he learned and mastered more of the K’un-L’un fighting style, the greatest fighting style ever in history. Every day, facing constant attacks from the shadows, from the Thunderer’s other apprentices, all to keep him off balance. The hazards of the world were many for Owen Reilly when he was growing up. Through all of this he was watched, by the August Personage in Jade.

Preparing him. Honing him. For tomorrow.

Tomorrow was a great event, and the people of K’un-L’un were having a festival. It was a festival that honored those who had been Iron Fists, champions of K’un-L’un. Tomorrow was the day that Owen had been preparing his entire life for, the final tournament.

The finals of the tournament was tomorrow and it would decide the fate of two young men. On one side was Owen Reilly. On the other was a man named Kaval. Kaval was another of the Thunderer’s apprentices and a man that had been lauded as the greatest fighter to emerge, in recent times, in K’un-L’un. Kaval was a true fighter, and was someone who Owen considered a friend. They had grown up together, and had fought together many times. Some considered Owen the better, others championed Kaval’s cause. But all knew that tomorrow would settle the rivalry between the two.

Because only one of them could earn the right to face Shou-Lao, the Undying.

Only one of them could become the next Iron Fist.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Owen sat at the table, looking at the bowl in front of him. Stone rolled oats with crushed walnuts and almonds, with a dab or two of honey. This was his normal meal of the morning. It hadn’t always been that way. He had had to earn the walnuts and then the almonds, and finally the honey. Everything that the Thunderer had given him, Owen had earned. The wooden spoon’s motion was mechanical. His thoughts were not on his actions, but on the events that would transpire that day. Rising once he’d finished his meal, Owen headed back to his room, and to the bathroom that was adjoining to his bedroom. Turning the old earthen clay spouts, he stripped as the bucket filled with warm water. Grabbing the sponge that he had, he proceeded to bathe. A few minutes later, he was dressed and ready to proceed. Walking out of his room, he stopped, looking at the person who was waiting for him.

“Good morning, young one.”

“Good morning, Thunderer.” Owen said.

The other man started walking and Owen fell into step beside him. The two were silent for a while, until the Thunderer spoke. “I have faith in you, boy. I would not have said that you were ready otherwise.” He said, and then fell silent again, as they stepped out of the building and started walking through the streets of K’un-L’un. The city was a buzz with people and the voices could be heard. The people gave them way though, no one ever got in the Thunderer’s path. Many of the people watched Owen with excited looks, and there was hushed speak between them all.

In the distance, the young man could see the large stadium like building where he would be fighting. He’d been in many fights there, had seen many fights there. Somehow it retained it’s magic on him, it’s ability to captivate him. It was as though he was walking into it for the first time, every time.

“I appreciate that, Thunderer.”

“Being ready does not mean that you will win.” The gruff voice said. “Kaval is just as good as you and he does not lose his focus. Ever. Defeating him, truly defeating him will be a tough challenge.”

“I understand.” Owen said.

They could hear chanting in the distance. It was tough to pick out what the people in the arena were chanting, but it was a mix of Owen’s name and Kaval’s name. The people knew what was coming and they were ready for it.

“Go out there, and fight. I will have no mercy for you if I feel that you did not give everything that you could.”

Knowing that the Thunderer would not lie to him, Owen nodded, squaring his shoulders and increasing the speed of his pace, moving past the Thunderer and into the building. He headed down into the locker rooms to prepare for the fight that was coming up, the fight of a lifetime.

There was a good part of him that was worried, but it wasn’t that he was worried about losing. No, he was worried about what would happen if he won.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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The sun beat down upon the sand pit that was the arena floor. Owen stood behind a gate, looking out at the circular ring that dominated the arena. He closed his eyes as he listened to the announcer speak.

“Now, we introduce first, the man who has been ranked as the number one fighter in all of K’un-L’un. A man widely considered to be the next Iron Fist. The man known as the Warrior, none other than Kaval!”

The crowd erupted and a gate on the opposite side of the stadium opened. Kaval stepped out. Owen was a bit over six feet, but Kaval was taller than he was. The man who walked out was bald, dressed in skintight blue and white leggings and black boots. He was bare chested and he gave a perfunctory wave to the crowd. Stepping up onto the raised dais, he stood there and waited. His eyes never wavered though, staring at the gate that he knew Owen was standing behind.

“And now...the man who is also ranked as the number one fighter in all of K’un-L’un. The outsider, the man of America. A man who many consider could also be the next Iron Fist. We give you, the American Dragon, Owen Reilly!”

Again, the crowd erupted and the gate in front of Owen opened. He walked out, his gaze fixed on Kaval. Their eyes locked, and the two men stared at each other as Owen walked out and stood up on top of the dais. The announcer went over the rules, but neither man bothered to listen. The rules had been bored into them for months now.

There would be one round, with no time limit. There could be no killing blows. The fighting did not have to stay on the dais, though it was heavily encouraged. Everything else was fair game. The only way to win was by knockout or by submission.

Everyone in the crowd knew that with the rivalry between these two, there would be no submissions.

Owen stepped forward and extended his hand. “Best of luck to you, my friend.” He said. “I am honored to face you, again.”

“The honor is mine, Owen Reilly.” Kaval said, and the two shook, to applause. “But the better man will win this day.” He added.

“I do hope that is so.” The Causcasian man replied with an amused smile that the other then shared.

The two friends squared themselves away and awaited for the bell keeper to ring the bell that would signify the start of the fight.

This was Reilly/Kaval XIV, and it was time to begin.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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He dropped to all fours, and spat out blood, looking at how the red liquid mixed with the sand of the arena. His brow furrowed and he lifted his head, looking at the man who was running towards him. The fight had been going on for the better part of ten minutes now, and both men’s Chi had already been called upon more than once. Needles of the Maker had been countered by Endless Wave of Misery. Owen had tried Winds of Change but Kaval had evaded. In turn, he had managed to avoid Kaval’s attempts at a Flourishing Spider on a Moonlit Night. If that had connected, his shins would have been shattered. All things considered, he’d been very grateful that it hadn’t.

As Owen rose and moved his tongue around his mouth, he was fairly positive that at least one of his ribs was broken. The fight was not over however, far from it. The words of the Thunderer came back t him, and he set himself, readying for the lock up.

The two men locked up once again, and forearms connected with other body parts as they jockeyed for position. Owen spun around the left side of Kaval, connecting with an elbow to the back of the other man’s head. Kaval stumbled forward, but had the wherewithal to be able to turn, planting one of his feet in Owen’s stomach. The pain was tremendous, and his body screamed in agony, reminding him that yes, two of his ribs were in fact broken.

Owen clutched as his ribs, trying to use his Chi to dull the pain, to keep it from affecting him too much. The grit of his teeth was enough for Kaval though, who saw his opening. The bald headed man raced forward and Owen went to block an attack that was for his upper body, but Kaval wasn’t targeting that. A double kick to one of Owen’s knees forced him to buckle. Then a kick to his ribs caused him to roll over and lie on the ground, facing the sky. His mind clicked then, and he saw what was to happen. It all made sense, considering who he was facing.

Warrior’s Way.

He knew what was coming. One of Kaval’s favored moves. It required a fallen opponent, facing either direction. It was a double foot stomp to either the back of the opponent or two the stomach. In this situation, with the broken ribs, it could mean a fatal attack. While that was technically against the rules, Kaval wouldn’t actually be breaking any rules, because the attack itself would not kill him, just maim him and put him in a situation where he could die. The people in the arena knew what it was too, and there was a rise in the volume of the people watching the bout. Then there was a hush that fell amongst them.

This then, could be the end of the fight.

Kaval ran forward and leapt into the air. His body glowed a sickly purple as he descended from the skies above, his feet glowing the most. It was the Warrior’s Way. A split second before he would have been hit, Owen rolled out of the way, and continued to roll until he rolled to his feet. The crowed erupted in the moment, feeling the electricity of him moving out of the way at the last second. Kaval’s eyes, which had been glowing purple, returned to their normal view. He looked at Owen.

“This ends.”

“Thank the heavens.” Owen replied.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Kaval gritted his teeth as he tried to break the hold that he was in. He was in a vice hold, also known as a arm-trap triangle choke. Owen was exerting an extreme amount of pressure on his neck and arm. He’d been in the hold for a while now, but he was utilizing a lot of his Chi to keep him in the fight. He knew what his reserves were and he knew that he wasn’t going to burn out any time soon. That had always been one of Owen’s problems. He burned through his energy too quickly, without leaving enough to keep the fight going. Most of the time it didn’t matter; the foes that he faced, he simply outclassed. But Kaval was not one of those. Kaval was his equal, possibly his better. But Owen kept going back to the same strategy that had always worked. It would not work with Kaval.

Flipping his body around, he turned, so that he was on top of Owen, breaking the hold. He rained down with punches, hitting Owen in the head repeatedly. The crowd popped for the move, and Owen shoved hard, getting his opponent off of him, creating some separation, needing some space. The two fighters slowly got to their feet.

Then Owen did something that Kaval had not expected.

Shining River of Light.

The blow landed full on, and Kaval fell backwards, feeling pain inside of him blossom and explode into a thousand points of light. His nerves were on fire and he buckled as he fell to the ground.

Owen rose in the air, coming with his knee down full force. The other man rolled out of the way, but Owen ignored the pain that came to his knee from the botched move. Instead, he turned, doing a cartwheel of sorts. He landed on Kaval’s other side and then scooped his opponent up, holding him in a fireman’s carry. With a grunt, he tossed the man up in the air, and then time seemed to slow down. Kaval watched as a blue shimmering light engulfed Owen’s left arm.

The elbow slammed down into his chest, and Kaval could have sworn that he heard bones snap. He felt it, definitely, the shooting pain.

Elbow of Disdain.

He hit the ground and writhed in pain. Owen had suckered him in, expending the energy that he needed to, in order to make Kaval think that he was weakening, that he was going to burn out soon, due to the history of their fights. More important than that, he knew that he had been beaten. He knew that Owen had beaten him, and that hurt him worse than the actual pain or the pain of being suckered in.

Simply put, he could not move.

The fight was over.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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What happened afterwards was a blur for Owen. All he would remember was that he was whisked away and taken to the showers. He barely had time to take that shower, before he had to change and was then paraded around for the people to see. He was their champion. He was the man who was going to face Shou-Lao and attempt to plunge his fists into the dragon’s still beating heart, and gain the powers of the Iron Fist. It was so much, so overwhelming. What would upset him, when he did find the time to reflect on it later, was that he never got the chance to thank Kaval. The other man had put up a hell of a fight, and there was no shame in the loss.

He would hope that the man would not feel shame in the loss, but he knew that it was something that he would feel if he had been in Kaval’s position, so the odds were not in his favor that Kaval wouldn’t feel shame regarding the outcome of the fight. Both men had given their all, and in this moment, Owen had been the victor. A moment that had been shared by all the people of K’un-L’un, a moment that for many would be always remembered forever. Definitely the two people who had been involved in the decision would remember it forever.

His memories would snap to the moment when after the people had left the arena, and after everything was said and done, the exchange that he had with the Thunderer.

“You fought well.”

That was all that he’d needed to hear, all that he had been looking for. The Thunderer would never know how much that had meant to him. If the Thunderer had thought that he had fought well, then that was enough for him. He knew that the other man didn’t give out praise lightly, and so it meant a great deal coming from him. When he’d smiled and nodded his thanks, the Thunderer had gone on to say that the true test of himself was coming soon. Sobering, wasn’t it. In one breath, praising him, and in the next, challenging him. Building him up to give him a great fall, to remind him that humility was key in life, so very important.

He knew that Shou-Lao was what was before him, and that to dwell on the past, even as great of a moment as it was that he’d just had, was not going to serve him well for the future. After he’d met with the Thunderer, Owen had left to receive healing before he resumed his training. It was seemingly as though nothing had happened in his world, as though the events of the day had never even come to pass at all. Those around him marveled a bit at his dedication to his training and his ability to block the jubilation of the morning’s fight out of his mind.

There was one week before he would face Shou-Lao and he was determined to ensure that he would come out of that meeting victorious. In this match, he had fought as though his honor had depended on it. In his next, he knew that he would have to fight as though his life depended on it. For Shou-Lao was truly merciless and he could easily, almost carelessly be killed by the eternal dragon. The danger was real, very real. As though he had been taken from the proverbial frying pan and placed into the fire. A fire from an angry, angry dragon.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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The evening was cool, the air crisp. People were moving through the streets of K’un-L’un, in a leisurely fashion. Businesses were starting to board up for the day. Owen was on a balcony, sitting cross legged. His eyes were open, but he was not really looking at what was around him. He was meditating, his mind’s eye focused on his goals. His breathing was regular, long and deep. His chi was guiding him on his path, as he meditated. Everything was open and loose, and Owen could feel so much of what was going on around him. All that he could see was a radiant kaleidoscope of colors. Slowly, when he realized that he was no longer alone in his room, he came out of the meditative trance. He had been holding this position for over four hours and when he unfurled himself, he found no soreness, no stiffness.

His vision returned to him along with the rest of his senses, and his eyes welcomed someone in the room, while his nose was assaulted by the smell of food. His stomach growled, only slightly, reminding him that it had been some time since he had eaten anything. It was a polite rumbling though, since his chi had kept his energy levels high. More psychosomatic than anything, probably. Still, he smiled at the bald monk who had come into the room. The man set a tray of food down in front of Owen and then bowed, before leaving the room.

There was kimchi, made from cabbage, radishes, ginger, garlic, kale, and leek. Additionally there was a large bowl of pork that had been slowly braised and cooked so that it was so soft that it could melt in your mouth. Last but not least, there was a substantial portion of white sticky rice. A pitcher of water and a glass rounded out the meal. Owen dug in.

As he was eating, he looked out of the window in the meditation room, as evening fell around K’un-L’un. The work that these people did, it was good and he found himself happy that he belonged to this marvelous, wondrous city. The people were vibrant, the atmosphere was great, and everyone treated everyone else with respect. K’un-L’un wasn’t a utopia, no, but if there was ever a place that could be a contender for that description, then K’un-L’un fit it aptly.

There was a knock on the door and he looked up to see the Thunderer walking into the room. He continued to eat, his chopsticks moving quickly.

“How are you?” He asked after a moment.

“Tomorrow is the day.” The Thunderer said.

“Ever to the point.” Owen replied with a smile. “Pork?” He asked.

“I have already eaten, thank you.” The Thunderer replied. “Is there anything else to be, than to the point?” He asked. “You face Shou-Lao tomorrow, boy. This isn’t a routine sparring match. This isn’t something you’ve faced before. You beat Kaval, but you’d faced him countless times before.” The Thunderer said, his voice getting rougher and rougher. He stopped and then slowed the pacing that he found himself doing. “Good luck, Owen Reilly. I believe in you.” He said, before leaving the room, without letting Owen get in a word of reply.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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It was the drum beat that woke him.

Owen’s eyes opened to the darkened interior of his room. This was the day. The anointed day. The day that he had been waiting for his entire life. His morning routine was soon behind him, and he sat on the floor, stretching. He would need to be at his best when he faced Shou-Lao. The Thunderer had been different yesterday. Something about him had been different. It was had been one of the first days when he had looked or sounded as though he cared about Owen, as a person. Never before had Owen seen anything like that in the face of his mentor, and he’d surely never heard it. But then again, the Thunderer understood what it was that Owen was doing and what he was about to go through.

Well, he understood it as best as he could. The Thunderer had never gone up against Shou-Lao. He’d never fought the Beast of K’un-L’un. He could only imagine what it had been like for Danny Rand, or Orson Randall, or any of those who had come before them. Now, Owen Reilly was going to try his hand at defeating the dragon, plunging his hands into the dragon’s molten heart, and seizing the power of the Immortal Iron Fist.

He finished stretching a few minutes before there was a knock on his door. Rising, Owen went to the door and opened it. One of the many monks stood there, waiting for him. The boy was young, maybe fourteen, maybe fifteen. He’d pledged his life in service to the city, and that was admirable.

“The time is now, sir.” The young monk said.

“I understand.” Owen replied.

The two walked out, as the drum beat, which had been playing throughout slowly started to rise in volume and repetition. It was a signal to the rest of the city that the test was to begin. As the two walked through the halls of the building, Owen received glances from other monks. Furtive glances.

For the man they watched would be exalted that day. In victory or in death. Those were his two options.

Owen stopped when he saw one in particular walk towards them.

“Good luck, my friend.” Kaval said, extending his hand.

Friend. That was a word that the bitter rivals had rarely shared, though both had felt it at times. They had always been rivals, but they had always had a level of respect for each other.

“Thank you, Kaval.” Owen said, grasping the other’s hand. “I shall need it.” He said.

“I know.” Kaval replied, with an even smile that gave away nothing. “You will need it.” He added, before walking past Owen and disappearing into a doorway.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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The beating of the drums matched the pace in his chest. A simple pattern, but one that was steady, pounding. It was all consuming, pushing all thoughts of anything else out of one’s head. The man who would try his hand to become the next Iron Fist walked, slowly and deliberately. The drums themselves were fading in the distance and soon he couldn't hear anything but the drum beat of his heart. Though the sound of the drums had faded, the determination that they had carried with them remained within him.

The cave of Shou-Lao was visible in the distance and the path that he had walked had brought him here this day. No, that wasn't true. It was the journey of a life time not a path chosen on one day in particular. Walking the path to Shou-Lao’s cave, it was just one part of the journey. Where the journey would take him, well that remained to be seen. But there was one thing that he could not do and that was keep the dragon waiting. It just wouldn’t be polite.

Climbing over rocks, he looked down at the gaping maw of the cave, a pit in the earth that he would enter. A deep sense of calm overtook him and he started his descent.

As his vision lost the light that he needed to see, Owen's eyes adjusted of their own accord. He knew nothing of this place. This was something that he had never been prepared for, but it was something that realistically, no one could truly prepare you for. No one ever ventured in to these depths and if they did, they either never spoke of it or they never returned with their lives. He was determined for the latter to not to be the case with him. He simply refused to allow it. More than once his journey became perilous, but he was able to bypass the obstacles that had been formed naturally over the years.

There was something calming about the knowledge that years ago, Daniel Rand had journeyed through these same places. Had gone around these same obstacles. Years before that it had been Orson Randall. So and on and so forth through the annals of history. While Owen would never state or claim that he was at their level of expertise, he did take comfort in the fact that they had accomplished the task set before them. It meant that it was possible, achievable. That meant that he could find a way.  His steps were surer as he considered these facts.

Finally the descent turned into a plateau. The cavern was spacious, larger than the main sparring room of the training area that he had grown up in. Almost as big as the entire arena that he had fought Kaval in, to become the chosen champion. Before him was the true chasm, the true pit of Shou-Lao. Looking down, Owen realized that he had found what he had been looking for. Slumbering down below, he saw the Dragon. This then was his date with destiny. For the dragon's eyes had opened, it's visage upturned towards him.

Defeat the Dragon of K'un-L'un and gain it's power. Become the Iron Fist. Be defeated by the Dragon of K'un-L'un and be consumed in its ever eternal fire.

Without a moment of hesitation, Owen Reilly leapt, to meet his fate.

****

"The boy has taken hours."  Someone said. The person looked to speak more but a growl from the Thunderer and the look that was on the man's face caused another choice to become the most readily apparent.

"The boy will take what time he needs. That should suffice for you."  The Thunderer said.

But in his own thoughts, he worried and he waited. On the outside the Thunderer showed no emotion. He simply was. However underneath the shell, the man felt. He felt deeply about the outsider Owen Reilly who had been adopted by the people of K'un-L'un and called one of their own. The city needed it's champion. Owen was the best candidate. He had shown that against Kaval.  However, was the boy truly ready for a test such as the dragon? 

That was debatable. Amongst the throng of people, the Thunderer saw the man that Owen had bested. Kaval stood there, silent. Pensive and brooding. He had been surprised that Kaval had not tried something in the time between his loss and now. It was out of character. Maybe he had and the Thunderer simply lacked knowledge of it.

Deep in his own thoughts, the Thunderer did not hear, at first, the chants that went up from the crowd. Looking up, he saw the man that walked towards them. The gi that Owen had worn was in taters, lying around him by the most ominous of predicaments.  All that did was give an excellent view to all who witnessed the still glowing a dull orange tattoo that had been burned into his chest. A tattoo of a dragon.

On that day, the Thunderer did something that no man, woman, or child had ever seen him do.

He knelt.

For the man before them was the Immortal Iron Fist.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Owen’s eyes were focused on an imaginary point on the wall in front of him. The meditation had been going steady, and if he had bothered to consider the time, he would have realized that he was already in his third hour. But for Owen that was not on his mind, nowhere near it. He was fighting a problem, one that had been plaguing him for the past few days. What was he to do next? All his life, he had been training and working, to prove his ability to see if he could become the next Iron Fist. Now that moment, that brass ring?

He had grasped it. He was the Iron Fist. The pain in his chest from where the dragon’s image had been burned was starting to dull. It would go away in a few days, and hopefully he would have his answer when the pain had stopped. Understanding his role, and accepting it, were two different things. Two very different things for him. Owen’s concentration was snapped, when the Thunderer walked into the meditation room and grabbed him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I was meditating.” Owen said.

“I understand that, but I have questions.” The Thunderer said, coming around and sitting down across from him, the same way, legs tucked underneath. “Many of us have questions.”

“What I want to do now?” Owen asked, but it was more of a rhetorical statement. When the Thunderer nodded, Owen sighed. “The truth of the matter is that I don’t know. All my life, I have been consumed with one goal, and I have accomplished it.” He said.

“You are the Iron Fist.” The Thunderer replied.

This was by far the nicest that he had ever been to Owen, and for his part, Owen was decidedly grateful. Long had he labored for the Thunderer, with no real gratitude in return. While he had never asked for it, it was a boon to possess.

“I have been considering a number of choices, but chief amongst those, is that I wish to return to earth.” Owen said.

The Thunderer frowned. “Do you not have a good life here, in K’un-L’un?” He asked.

“The greatest. The greatest I could have asked for. This city, these people, they took me in, when they had no reason or cause to. That is something that I will be forever grateful for. But back on earth, I probably had a family. I had something. I feel, like Danny Rand and Orson Randall before me, that I must return to earth.” He said.

It was then that he realized that he would not need to meditate on the issue any longer. Owen had found his answer.

“Is that what you wish to do?” The Thunderer asked, and Owen nodded. “Then you have my support and you have my help.” He said. “We will find away for you to accomplish this wish.”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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His eyes opened. The sun was beating down upon him, but he felt cold, very cold. It was as if he had been plunged into a tank of ice-cold water. Looking around, he realized that he felt this way because he was no longer on K’un-L’un, but rather somewhere where there was a great deal of snow. He smiled, despite the fact that his body was starting to shiver. Only a moment ago, he had been on K’un-L’un, preparing to undertake the journey to return to earth. He had no idea how much time had truly passed, but he had made that journey successfully.

Now he was on earth, somewhere in a mountain range, freezing to death. So he used his chi, to warm himself. Rising, he took a step forward and promptly sank into a bank of snow. Owen had to laugh at the situation, slowly starting to climb his way out.

As he did, he looked up at the sky. It was clear, there were no clouds. There was no wind either. Nothing for him to be able to tell where he was, short of him believing that he was on earth. Owen finally got out of the snow bank and stood there for a moment, surveying his surroundings. There were mountains for as far as he could see. He knew a little of earth’s geography, and if he had to guess, he figured that he was in the Himalayas. Then again, he could have been in the giant mountain range of Russia or in the American Rocky mountains and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. But something told him that he was indeed in the Himalayas.

He took another step, this time testing it to make sure that he had found a sure footing. Once he knew, he started walking, being far more careful this time around. Though he didn’t know where he was, Owen knew that the best way to get information was not to stay where he was, but to get down, closer to the ground and closer to civilization.

The descent lasted another twenty minutes or so, until he saw a camp in the distance. It seemed like a highly advanced camp, at least from what he could see. There were flags set up in the center of the camp. Owen could see the American flag, and a flag from a country that he didn’t recognize. But there was a third flag, another that he didn’t recognize as well.

It was a red flag, with a white dragon on it. The dragon’s body was twisted, shaped to appear like the capital letter R. Though it was foreign to Owen, there was something about it that seemed familiar. As if he could remember it from a lifetime long ago. He got closer and closer to the camp, until one of the persons who worked there saw him and called out.

“Oi, are you crazy?!” The man said.

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Owen said back. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re not wearing anything.” The man said and Owen looked down at himself.

That wasn’t true, at least not partially. Owen was wearing clothes, but he wasn’t exactly wearing anything that would be suitable for the weather that they were in. Of course, he couldn’t rightly tell the man that he felt as if it were summer and the temperature was in the seventies, could he?

“I may need some help then.” Owen said, and gave a smile.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Owen had been ushered into the camp itself and had quickly been given a set of clothes that would better suit him for the environment that he was in. He didn’t tell them that his chi was keeping him warmer than any of them felt, maybe even some of them put together. It probably would have been impolite. They had brought him to the command center tent, one of the larger ones in the camp. There he had been waiting for an audience with the man in charge, but that hadn't taken that long to pass. Apparently a man, half nakedly clothed, according to the people who worked in the camp, warranted an audience and quickly. Now he was sitting in front of that man who was in charge of the camp and now in charge of the proceedings and was answering questions that the other man posed.

“So you mean to tell me, that you just found yourself here?” The man asked, incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

Owen shrugged, a cheerful expression on his face. He wasn't lying to the man, it was the truth. “Yes, it is a very interesting thing, when you think about it.” He said. “What is your name?”

“My name is Jared Garfield.” The man said, still unsure of what was going on. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Owen Reilly. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Owen replied and extended his hand.

The other man took it and shook it. “Wow, your hand is really warm. I mean, for a guy who’s been in the snow and the ice without the proper gear and equipment.” Jared said. “You’re a crazy guy, I’ll tell you that.” He said.

“Whom do you work for?” Owen asked, looking around the room. It was a spacious room, though it was cluttered. Filled with different types of equipment, of which Owen could not recognize. But that didn't surprise him. Life was much simpler in K’un-L’un. “I noticed some sort of flag when I was brought to the camp.”

“Rand Corporation.” Jared said and he nodded when Owen showed a glimmer of recognition. “Yeah, we've been stationed here for a few months, doing research on a drug designed for climbers and those in high altitudes. As well, we've been pulling some samples of exotic plants and flowers for Dr. Hunter. She’s quite particular about what she wants.” He said.

“Rand Corporation, you say?” Owen asked. “That is very interesting. Tell me, Mr. Garfield, what do you know about Daniel Rand?” He asked, with a smile.

A few minutes later, Jared was on the line with Harold McKee, the CEO of Rand Corporation. He related to him all of the information that Owen Reilly had given him. This was the real reason why they were here, though Dr. Hunter did want her plants. They had been there for some time, working and monitoring. After Harold McKee had received Connor Mikkelson’s report that someone had been able to get into K’un-L’un, he had ramped up the efforts to try to find the portal and find passage to K’un-L’un. Obviously anyone in the know and possessing a brain would be interested to know what had happened to Daniel Rand, and more importantly than just that, to get access to the Immortal City.

Now they had their answer. Someone from their company had gone in, over two decades ago.

Now someone had come back.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Kismet. It was a beautiful thing. Fate or sweet coincidence had brought Rand Corporation to this very place, and this very place was where Owen had emerged from the gateway between K’un-L’un and earth. Owen’s belief was that it was fate. Fate was what had brought him to the Rand Corporation camp, and now had brought him, via a helicopter ride, to an airfield. He sat, on the airplane, trying to take it all in. Having spent all of his life in K’un-L’un, the concept of an airplane was foreign to Owen, and he did have a mild fear that something was going to go wrong. However, he trusted that nothing would happen.

Leaning back in his seat, he looked out of the window, at the buildings that littered the landscape of the airfield. Truly, it was a marvelous thing to behold, what mankind had built in this small area of land. It only piqued Owen’s interest in seeing the rest of the world. This planet was a very large place, and Owen could only imagine what the rest of it looked like, if something as simple as this airfield could be so marvelous.

“What is it?”

He turned at the voice of Jared Garfield, who had stepped onboard the plane. The man had been looking at the expression on Owen’s face.

“This place is beautiful. An ornate work of design.” Owen said.

“It’s just an airfield.” Jared said with a frown, bending down to look out of a window, as if magically everything around him had changed in the last minute or so, and he’d totally missed it. “There’s nothing special about it.” He said with a shrug, as he looked back over at Owen.

“On the contrary, there is. You’re used to it, so the beauty of it escapes you. This is to be expected. But for me, where I’m from, we don’t have things like this. Our technology is more advanced, I think, but we don't have airplanes or airfields. K'un-L'un is a self contained city." Owen said and smiled. "For me, it’s an interesting sight to see. A marvelous work of architecture and design, these buildings were created for one purpose, but accomplish more than that.”

“You’re headed to New York City, pal. Wait till you get there.” Jared said with a smile, as he sat down in one of the few seats in the spacious cabin.

“We’re flying westward, yes?” Owen asked and Jared nodded. “America, it seems like such a mysterious place. Then again, I’m sure K’un-L’un does to you. It would to most people who are used to places like his airfield, I suppose.” He said and Jared nodded again, this time with a much more bemused smile. “When will we take off?” He asked, and then looked back out his window. “But…how?”

“Silent running VTOL.” Jared said. “It stands for Vertical Takeoff Or Landing. Pretty useful piece of technology. We built it in conjunction with a company called Stark Industries.” He said, and when he saw the look on Owen’s face, he continued. “Yes, it doesn’t need to build any momentum in order to create lift.”

“Amazing. Simply amazing.” Owen said, like a child on Christmas.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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If he had thought that the simple airfield was amazing, Owen had been speechless during the descent into New York. They had landed in a place known as JFK Airport and from there, he had been transported, via a private car, into part of the city called Manhattan. Now, he was standing in a meeting room in a building owned by Rand Corporation. There was a large picture of Daniel Rand that dominated the room, and Owen stood in front of it, looking up at the man who had been his predecessor, the former Iron Fist. It was incredible to see him like this, and Owen wished that he could have spoken to the man, met him and gotten to know him. Undoubtedly, Daniel Rand’s experiences had to be fodder for legendary stories.

The door to the room opened and Owen turned around.

A man walked in, dressed in a business suit and wearing a smile. “Owen, it’s wonderful to meet you.” He said, extending his hand. He had a momentary look of mild shock at Owen’s clothes. Owen had changed out of the clothes that Jared Garfield had brought him, and was back in his K’un-L’un training outfit. “My name is Harold McKee, and I’m the CEO of Rand Corporation.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir.” Owen said. “You have a wonderful building, amongst equally wonderful buildings that make up this city.”

“Right. Yes. So, Jared informed me that you’re from K’un-L’un.” Harold said, and Owen smiled, as Harold had been the first person to properly pronounce the name of the Heavenly City that Owen was from.

“Yes, I am. I journeyed from there, through the portal, to arrive here on earth. Your people were there, for a scientific exploration, Jared said.” He looked around the room for a moment and then laughed slightly. The kismet of all of it was not lost on Owen at all. For him to have been there and find them, and then for them to have been from the Rand Corporation? Truly, it was a wondrous piece of chance that had benefited him greatly. “It was great fortune for me to be able to stumble across your people.”

“Indeed. Now, I was wondering something. Jared also mentioned something you said about the founder of this company, Daniel Rand. Did you know him?” He asked, with a hopeful look on his face, a look that was dashed when Owen shook his head.

“No, unfortunately, he passed away before I was born. I was born in K’un-L’un, but I am not of K’un-L’un.” Owen said. “My full name is Owen Reilly. My father was William Reilly, and my mother’s name was Nancy Reilly. They used to work for Rand Corporation, actually.” He said, with a big smile on his face. They passed away as well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Owen.” Harold said, shaking his head with a sad look on his face. “Truth be told, we’ve always been hoping, praying even, that Daniel Rand would come back. I know it’s been almost twenty years, but it would have meant so much for the company. But if that can’t happen, then I suppose we’ll have to live with it. Perhaps we could put you up in an apartment, or something, while we converse more and see what you can tell us about K’un-L’un?” He asked.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Owen stepped out of the elevator. He was on a very high up floor of a very tall building in the heart of Manhattan. A two-story apartment, McKee had said that it had been owned and lived in by Daniel Rand before him. The foyer was beautiful, with Italian marble, and he stepped through the front doorway. Owen’s eyes squinted slightly, as he was unsure of what was going on. He turned and looked at the person who had come with him, Harold McKee’s secretary. The secretary and personal assistant shrugged at first, until realization dawned on his face.

“Oh, wait.” He said. “I think Harold wasn’t aware that-“

“No, Harold is aware,” a voice said, “he just chose to forget. There’s a difference.” The voice said, and a woman came into view. She was wearing a white tank top with jeans on. Her long blond hair was a bit out of place, though it was tied in a messy bun, and she lacked the makeup typical of most Manhattan women.

Her bare feet danced over the marble as she moved towards the two men.

What Owen had seen when he had walked into the large living room area was, besides the furniture and the sheer wealth that was present in the room, a number of printers and stacks of papers, folders, and a large amount of just stuff. It looked a bit like a mad house, or in the very least the working area of a mad man. In this case, he surmised with a small smile, a mad woman.

“Hello, my name is Owen Reilly.” He said. “Mr. McKee did not tell me that there was someone occupying this space, though his unfortunate mistake has now graced me with your presence.” Owen said with a warm smile. He extended his hand, for the woman to shake, the custom that he was quickly learning from everyone around him.

She stopped and gave him a look, a raised eyebrow being the most obvious indicator that the woman was mildly disturbed by what was going on. After all, she was looking at Harold McKee’s personal assistant, a sycophantic yes man most of the time who hit on her way too much when she walked into McKee’s office, and another man dressed like a Buddhist monk. Lifting a hand, she did not shake Owen’s proffered hand, but moved it in a motion all around his face and chest.

“Who the hell is Karate Kid over here?” She asked, her other hand on her hip. “I’m under a deadline, and this is important, busy work.” She said.

Owen turned to McKee’s assistant. “I would never wish to be trouble and impose upon a woman, I am sure that there are other places that I could stay.” He said. “I’m sure that this lovely woman would much rather that I do so.” Owen said.

“Wait, I never said that.” She said. “I want to know what’s going on.” She said. “You, with the face,” she said, pointing at McKee’s assistant. “Get Harold on the line, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.” She said.

“Right away, Ms. Hunter.”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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OOC: Cowritten with Mir.

IC:
“Harold, you’re an ass.” Nicole said as she and Harold stood in the foyer of the apartment. She had forced Harold’s assistant to call the man and get him to come over to the apartment immediately.

“I know, I promised you the penthouse for your research. That was months ago, Nicole, you know that things change. I can’t…say the same for your research.” Harold said, his hands on his hips. The look on her face told him that the comment hadn’t gone over well. “What I meant to say,” He started, hastily.

“Oh, I know what you meant to say.” Nicole said. “Look here, McKee. My research accounts for a solid four percent of this company’s revenue. I don’t care who you think you are, but don’t forget that my family owns a significant portion of the stock of this company, making me one of the many that you have a fiduciary responsibility to.” She said. “Now, you want to bring the weird Buddhist guy in to my house, my space, then you better tell me why.” Nicole added.

“Because he’s from K’un-L’un.” Harold said.

The look on her face changed to one demonstrating that she did not know what the last word in his sentence meant, at all. Turning, she looked around the corner at where Owen was, seated on top of a stack of papers. His eyes were closed and he was seated, cross-legged as he meditated, patiently waiting for Harold and Nicole to finish their conversation. It was comical if anything, and she sighed, turning back to Harold to continue this conversation.

“What’s K’un-L’un?” She asked. “That sounds like some place in Indonesia that I’ve never been to.”

Harold took a breath, knowing that, despite the fact that all of this was true, it still sounded rather crazy. “It’s one of the Seven Heavenly Cities. It’s where Daniel Rand learned to become the Iron Fist. It’s where everyone thought he went after the Chrell Invasion. Owen is the first person to move between K’un-L’un and earth since then.”

“He’s from…there?” Nicole asked, turning and looking back at Owen again. “What does he know? Weren’t they supposed to be technologically advanced?” She asked.

“Which is why I’d like to question him, and see what he knows. Maybe he has some information that Rand Corporation, your research, could use. He’s the son of two employees who went through the portal passage over twenty years ago. I…felt…responsible for him, that’s all.” Harold said, coming close to the most seemingly genuine statement he’d ever made about caring for another human being since Nicole had met the man.

It was a sign that there was more here than met the eye.

“How long?” She asked.

“Just until we verify who he is and any and all documentation that we need to do that is already being processed.” Harold said. “A few days, at the most.”

“A few days.” Nicole said, repeating it slowly and softly. “Fine.” She said, her voice picking back up in volume. “He can stay.”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Owen’s eyes opened as he slowly drifted back from the inner sanctum of his mind. His meditation had been quite refreshing. He had experienced quite a lot of new things, quite a lot of stimuli in such a short time, and it was a lot to process. His subconscious mind was dealing with it all, and he wanted to give it the time that it needed to do just that. As his eyes opened, he took a deep breath and focused on what was in front of him. On the other side of the room, in the path of his vision, Nicole sat at a table, which was covered with papers and charts, and was working on something on some kind of a computer.

He rose, stretching as he did.

The movement caught her attention and she turned, looking up at him.

“Holy smokes, you’re awake.” She said.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Owen replied, smiling. “I was meditating.”

“So you’re like really a Buddhist monk guy, huh.” She said. “Listen, I’m okay with you staying here for a little while, since you’re from K’un-L’un and new in town. Harold said that you’re going to help Rand Corporation as like a consultant or something.” Nicole said.

“I believe that is what is going to happen, yes. I would like to take this moment to thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Hunter.” Owen said, bowing slightly. “After all, it would appear that my presence could be something of an imposition on the…highly sophisticated filing system that you seem to have for your documents.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Is that sarcasm I hear coming from you, Karate Kid?” She asked. “That better not be sarcasm. This is a highly sophisticated filing system. I know where everything is. It’s controlled chaos.” She said.

“Controlled chaos is a precarious state to be in. At any moment, the chaos can take over.” He said. “I gather that you will wish for me to stay in a more remote area of this apartment?” He asked and she nodded. “That is, of course, more than acceptable. This does seem like a very large space.”

“It is.” She said, looking around. “It belonged to Daniel Rand, back in the day. It was his apartment, and he lived here. Multiple stories, five bedrooms, an entertainment area, the kitchen, obviously, there’s actually an indoor pool on this floor.” Nicole said. “It’s pretty state of the art. I mean, I did a little remodeling when I moved in, but it was mainly changing furniture and televisions, things like that.”

“Incredible.” Owen said. “Now, I was wondering if you could tell me what it is that all of these papers are about. I understand that you are a research scientist, of sorts. Could you tell me what you’re working on?” He asked. “I’d like to get to know my…roommate a bit better.” He said.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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“What am I working on?” Nicole asked, and laughed lightly. “What am I not working on.” She said, rolling her eyes. “I…I don’t really know how far advanced your people are in understanding science.” Nicole said.

“Whenever we start a fire, we have a celebration and worship the fire.” Owen replied, keeping a straight face.

“Humor isn’t your strong point. Don’t stick with it.” She said, pointing a pencil at him. “No, I don’t know what terminology you do or don’t understand or what your people call differently than what we call here on earth.” Nicole said.

“Assume I know what you’re speaking of, and if I don’t, I shall ask.”

“Works for me.” Nicole said, rising and starting to walk around the room. “Okay, so there are people out there that can heal from terrible injuries. Sure, we have things like quikclot or other hemostatic gels, but that only stops the bleeding, it doesn’t speed up the healing process. But you have people out there, people with powers who have found ways to shorten the time it takes. I want to figure out how they do that, in order to find a way to make it more readily available to people.” Nicole said.

“That’s an ambitious goal.” He replied and she smiled, for the first time.

Reaching out, Nicole took a few papers in her hands, selecting them from various piles around the room. Then she handed them to Owen, who started to look at the papers, seeing that they were all graphs and charts.

“As you can see, it is difficult to get blood samples from people who have these powers. Privacy acts and what not get in the way.” Nicole said, waving one of her hands around. She went back to walking around the room, keeping her eyes on the man from K’un-L’un who was looking at the documents that she had given him.

She doubted that he would know a lot about this, but apparently he came from a much more advanced society, so the possibility always existed. “What I’m trying to do is reverse engineer the way that they have it. Either it’s genetic, from their DNA, if they’re a mutant like a Wolverine, or its also genetic from their make up, if they’re an alien, or it’s an aberration of their genetics, from some accident that happened to their DNA, if they’re a Spider-Man.” She said.

Owen nodded slowly, poring over the data and seeing what she had accomplished. Truth be told, he understood some of it, but most of it was beyond him. Not beyond someone from K’un-L’un, but beyond a man who had practiced the art of war since he had been a small child. If there was one thing that Owen was not, it was one of K’un-L’un’s fine scientists.

“What do you think?” She asked.

He paused, and finally looked up at her.

“What’s a Wolverine?”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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"What's a Wolverine?" She asked, not understanding his question. Then she realized that really, Owen had no idea who anyone really was, in this world of people with powers. "Right." She said, nodding and grabbed her laptop. She went to youtube and started searching, pulling up various videos, both of Logan Howlett and of the man who currently used the moniker as a member of the Avengers. "This is a Wolverine."

Owen looked at the videos, studying them carefully. He was leaning over her shoulder, staring intently at the screen, and she could see a series of scars behind his ear, as if something with claws had dug in and dragged backwards. Nicole's eyes studied the scars for a moment and she reached out to touch them, but he turned his face towards her and she dropped her hand quickly.

"He is a great fighter." He said.

"I'm...sure he is." She said.

"So you say he heals?" Owen asked, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. "I would like to meet him. Where is he?" Owen asked.

"I don't...I don't know." Nicole said, giving him a look. "This is a big planet, you know." She said.

"Indeed. This place, Manhattan, I believe the name is, is truly incredible. When I was flying in, I could not believe that buildings could be built this large. Truly, you are blessed to be here."

Nicole smiled, looking out of the wrap around floor to ceiling windows of the apartment. "You're right." She said. "Sometimes you get caught up in day to day life that you forget to stop and take it all in." She turned back to him. "So K'un-L'un doesn't have anything like this?" She asked.

"We have tall buildings." Owen replied, sitting down back where he had been meditating. "But do we have anything as large as the buildings here? No, we do not." He looked at more of the papers and shook his head. "I freely admit that I do not know that much about what you are attempting, but I can say that I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors. If there is anyway for me to help, please, let me know."

"How does medicine in K'un-L'un work?" She asked.

"Most of the time, there is healing from within." He said. "After all, from an early age, children are taught how to harvest their Ki and use it for various purposes."

Now it was her turn to ask a question that seemed to be self explanatory to the person hearing it. "What's a ki? Is that like Tai-chi, and hot yoga, and power smoothies? I mean, I already figured you're some kind of Buddhist monk or something like that." She said.

"What's hot yoga?" He asked.

"Yoga, when I do it." She said, definitively nodding her head.

There was a knock at the door, distracting him from the words that made no sense to him.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Nicole walked over to the door and opened it, the neutral look on her face changing to one of annoyance as Harold McKee gave her a self serving smile. He walked into her apartment, his eyes searching for Owen.

“Harold, you can’t just walk in here.” She said.

“Then you should have accepted Mr. Reilly in to said apartment as Rand Corporation’s guest.” He said, as he made his way into the living room. His eyes took in all of the papers and clutter that made up the apartment and turned, looking over his shoulder. It was the same as it had been when he had been here a few hours ago. “I shouldn’t ask whether you’re still on schedule, should I?” He asked, with a mild look of amusement.

“No.” She said evenly, as she folded her arms over her chest. “You really shouldn’t.” Nicole said, narrowing her eyes at him. She didn’t appreciate the barbs that he constantly aimed at her research. They both knew damn well how important she was to the corporation and how vital her research was to the world in general. “You were here like five hours ago. Two visits in one day is two more than I need. What do you want?” She asked.

“To talk to Mr. Reilly.” Harold said, pointing at Owen. He looked over at Owen and smiled. “How are you settling in?” He asked.

“Quite well.” Owen said, rising from his seated position and placing his arms behind him, hands at the small of his back. “Ms. Hunter has been incredibly gracious when it comes to hosting me. I would like for her hospitality to be rewarded in some way.” He said.

Harold waved his hand in the air, a lazy motion. “Of course, of course. But I’m here to take you to one of our research facilities here in the city to run tests and see what we can learn from your knowledge.” He said. “Our researchers are very eager to work with you.”

Owen looked over at Nicole. There was something about the look of her face that made him pause, made him think that going with Harold would not be the best decision for him to make. If there was one thing that he was sure of it was that he wasn’t sure of anything when it came to this new world that he found himself in. But forging his way through this world had been his goal, so he had to commit to it. There was a decision that had to be made.

“Ms. Hunter’s research seems quite interesting. I must admit to be taken with it.” He said, giving her a smile. “I would like to know if she will be able to take part in these studies and have access to the results?” He asked.

The look on Harold’s face showed that this was not what he had been looking for. It was obvious that this man was used to people falling in line with what he wanted, and it was evident that Nicole was not one of the people who did that. The legacy of Daniel Rand was very important to Owen, considering that he was the former Iron Fist’s successor.

“Is that not something we can both agree on?” He asked, looking between Nicole and Harold.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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“I suppose this is something that I can agree with.” Harold said. It was clear from his body language, that he didn’t want to share any of the findings with Nicole.

There was something about the man that didn’t seem right, to Owen. He could sense that something was off, through the man’s aura. The calm that the man tried to exude belied a fury underneath, one that was hard to keep in check. Owen could admire that the man did keep it in check, but it was also clear that he believed in a clear line of demarcation between himself and those he considered to be his inferiors. The unfortunate part of this was that he considered most people to be his inferiors, something that Owen could not agree with.

No one was anyone other person’s inferior. Everyone was on their own personal journey of enlightenment. Sometimes that journey took longer for some than for others, and in others the journey had a far deeper final destination. But that didn’t put one being over another when it came to worth.

Owen was a monk, through and through and he wanted to ensure true peace and fairness for all. He turned to Nicole. “And you, Ms. Hunter?” He asked. “Does this arrangement suit you?” He asked.

She didn’t have to think twice about her answer. After all, Nicole had been pretty sure that Harold was never going to let her look at whatever data they were able to get from any tests run on Owen. Despite how important her research was, to herself and to the company, as well as how far along she was on it, and what the purpose behind the research was. He thought of her as more of something that he had to keep a little happy in order to keep his control of the company intact.

The problem with stopping Harold McKee was that all of Daniel Rand’s shares were still being held in his name. He had never fully been declared dead, and his will had only been partially read out, the rest of it a mystery.

“I’m…amenable to it, yes.” Nicole said, going with some form of civility, as she stared at Harold who smiled with a look of faux apology.

He gestured towards the door, in her own apartment, like she didn’t live here. “After you, Nicole.” He said.

“Of course, we should give Ms. Hunter some time to prepare herself. Your researchers have had that time, she should as well.” Owen said with a smile.

There was something going on between the two of them that he could not quite put his finger on. A level of distrust maybe? A dance, a duel that they were embroiled in, though their legs did not move. A fight that he was not privy to, but was getting a glimpse, only a glimpse. But what what a glimpse it was. He could feel the fire inside of Nicole, wanting to say more, and he could feel the censure coming from Harold if she did.

These were interesting times for someone such as Owen. “Ms. Hunter, please. We should try to be on our way soon.” He said.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Nicole looked over at Owen from where the two of them sat in the back of a Lincoln Town Car. Owen was quite content with looking out of the window, studying the architecture of the various buildings they passed. She loved New York City, having convinced her parents to start letting her explore the city when she was twelve. Recently, however, she had gotten so wrapped up in her work, that she had stopped appreciating the beauty of the city and the passion of its people. But seeing it through Owen's eyes was something to behold. He had never seen anything like this before, that much Nicole could tell. She smiled. "You don't need to do this." She said, and he turned, looking at her confused. "Forcing Harold to let me in on the research. You don't need to do that."

A frown moved over his face. "But of course I do, Ms. Hunter. You've graciously opened the doors of your home to me, welcoming in a total stranger. If there is anything within my power to repay you for this debt, then you needn't ask." Owen replied.

"Do you like doing dishes? Because I forget to." She replied. "Sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes. I don't leave random dishes around the apartment, that's not what I'm saying. I have a tendency to...you know." She said, quickly trying to rectify her misstep.

"I know what you mean."

He turned and looked back out of the window. "Do you ever wonder how so many people can live in a place like this?" He posited. "Not the mechanics of life, that much can be accomplished. I mean rather, the actual journey of enlightenment and growth. This place seems so busy, so fast paced. No one stops to take time to reflect on their surroundings and what is happening in their lives. At least, that is the feeling that I have gotten thus far. Please, correct me if I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong, not exactly." Nicole said, looking out her window as they continued their drive, making the turn to cut through Central Park. He was right, in a way, she had to give him that. He had made quick work at diagnosing life in the city of New York. "It's a dog eat dog world out there, sometimes you have to move fast to stay ahead. You lose track of the things that bring you peace because you move so fast."

Owen watched some of the many people in Central Park, nodding at her words. "But this seems like a place for one to recharge their chi. This is a beautiful space, truly." He said. "I would like to run through this place. Do you go running?" He asked.

Nicole grimaced, a reminder that she had long ago ditched her workout regimen in favor of putting in more time at the lab. There was always time to run later, but not as much time to get her things done. Part of the problem of working under strict deadlines imposed by Harold McKee. "Sure. Not as much as I should though, not recently. I should probably start running more often."

He smiled. "Perfect, then we shall go running together. Starting tomorrow." Owen said, with an air of finality that indicated he didn’t think there was going to be much argument in the matter. He continued to look out of the window.

She closed her eyes. “Maybe. We’ll see. You might be pretty tired after the experiments.”

“I have yet to find something that my Chi cannot revitalize me from.”

“Wait until I introduce you to whiskey.” Nicole replied, with a smirk.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Owen followed Nicole as they walked through the research facility in downtown Manhattan. He was trying to take everything in, but there was so much for him to pay attention to. He had a feeling he should simply let it all go and go along for the ride. This was going to be a fascinating day for him. Nicole walked through the building as if she owned the place and belonged there, and that much was definitely true. It was her research facility after all. Owen’s eyes couldn’t begin to take in everything he was seeing. It was foreign and unique, and he loved it. The two were in an elevator with Harold McKee but the elevator itself was made out of glass so he could see everything as they traveled up into the building.

When the doors opened, they were on a floor filled with sophisticated equipment that Owen had never seen before in his life. Were these what his parents had used when they had worked for Rand Corporation? He could only imagine that the change from earth to K’un-L’un for his mother had been incredibly jarring. His father had not survived the trip, but for his mother, she had lived out the last few months of her life, while pregnant with him, in an alien world. A world that he called home.

“Ready for this?” Nicole asked him, as she gestured to a chair for him to sit.

He nodded and sat down.

Harold looked around. “Alright, well, I’ll let you two get to it. I have somethings I need to attend to.” He said and left the room, with Nicole watching him leave.

“Thank God, he’s gone. Now I can finally get some actual work done.” She said.

“Why do you and Harold not get along? There seems to be a level of stress between the two of you.” Owen stated as Nicole rummaged in different drawers looking for things she needed. “These are only my observations. I may be incorrect.”

“You’re not wrong. A level of stress is putting it likely, I’d say. It’s complicated. He views the company as something to make money.” She said, tucking hair behind her ear.

Owen paused. “Is that not what a company is for?” He asked.

“Oh, it is, but at the same time, I think it has a duty to help people. Especially for us, considering the field that we’re in. I know we have an obligation to our shareholders, and I am a shareholder, but we do have an obligation to the people who rely on our medicines and treatments.” She said, grabbing a container of alcohol wipes. “Take your shirt off.” Nicole said.

He shrugged and slid out of the top part of his robing. It fell to his waist and she ripped open the package of wipes, taking one and turning towards him.

“Whoa.” She said.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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“What’s wrong?” He asked, looking down at his chest. “Is something the matter?”

She gave him a look. “Look, I figured you’d be all muscle, but come on. We’re just going to brush over the giant dragon tattoo you have on your chest?” Nicole asked. “Kinda weird, you know?”

He smiled, looking down at the mark on his chest. Though he had only acquired it recently, it had become more than second nature to Owen. To the naked eye it did probably look like a tattoo but it was far from it. He could understand why Nicole would have thought that it was a tattoo. As Nicole looked at it more closely, she saw the edges and her brow furrowed. “That’s not a tattoo.”

“It’s not a tattoo. It’s a brand.” He said.

“A brand? Why are you branding yourself with a dragon?” Nicole asked, as she poked the brand before starting to wipe the spots that she was going to put her nodes and sensors. “That’s not exactly the smartest thing in the world to do, you know.”

“I didn’t choose to brand myself.” He said, as Nicole affixed the sensors onto Owen’s chest. “It wasn’t my choice, though I must say I am quite pleased with it. It was forced upon me, in a way.”

Nicole just nodded, looking at her computer screens. His vitals were good so far, and there didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. She wasn’t sure what they were looking for, she wasn’t sure what she was going to find. But everyone who knew anything about science and medicine knew that the people in K’un-L’un were far more advanced than those here on earth. No one was sure how they were able to do that, which made sense considering how hard it was to go back and forth between earth and K’un-L’un.

The thought of there being another…. world, was fascinating to Nicole. Scary to a degree, for sure, but fascinating. That there could be people out there that lived their lives but on a different planet or place or realm was a crazy thought to her. The researcher in her knew that it was possible, but like anything with science, it was one thing for a concept to be theoretical, it was something else entirely for it to be a proven thing.

Owen and whatever he knew about his life over there, they were physical proof.

“Alright buddy, show me what you can do.” She said, after ensuring that all the proper recording equipment was turned on.

He turned his head to the side and stared at her. “While I did agree to this, I’m not sure what really you’re looking for.”

“Impress me.”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Impress her? How was he supposed to do that? Owen had no idea what impressed Nicole or did not impress Nicole, not at this junction of his knowledge of her. He also wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for either. All he did know was that she wanted to try to measure what he could do when he focused his Chi. Owen hadn’t had the heart to tell her that anything was possible when someone focused their Chi, if they knew the proper way to do it. He stood there, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. Finally, he looked over at her, but she was just staring at him, waiting.

“What would you like me to do, exactly?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” Nicole said with a shrug. “I have no idea how any of this works.” She said and then thought about it. “You can accelerate your healing right?” She asked and he nodded. Nicole stepped over to where there were some tools, and found a Xacto knife she used when she was fiddling with wires sometimes. “This is going to hurt a bit. Or maybe it won’t. Or maybe it will. You’re weird.” She said, and knicked him on one of his forearms.

“I’m assuming you want me to heal from this.” Owen said and she gave him a look. “Right.”

Closing his eyes, Owen opened his mind, letting the universe flow through him. It was his own energy, the power created by his body, his very essence. It was simply a matter of channeling it where he wanted it to go, getting it to behave in the manner he wished it to behave.

Nicole took a step back, as a yellow glow began to emanate from Owen’s chest, underneath the very dragon brand that had been burned into his flesh. She watched as the glow moved forward, from his chest and into his arm. It was as if she could see through his arm for a moment, the glow was bright but wasn’t opaque. Transparent rather, his veins appeared to the naked eye as black tendrils. The glow continued to move down his arm until it reached the area she had knicked. She watched as the cut itself had some kind of light shine through it, the same light she had been watching travel through his body. The cut closed itself up and Owen opened his eyes, reaching a hand out to wipe the blood off. Then he looked at Nicole, whose eyes were a bit wide, taking it all in.

“Like that?” He asked.

“Okay, see now that, that’s impressive.” Nicole said. “How did you do that?”

“By focusing my chi.” Owen replied. “It is…breath…life. It is the flow of energy that sustains us all. Originating inside of us, it is most easily defined as ‘energy’, but that is a simplistic view.”

Nicole thought about it for a moment. “So it’s like the Force.”

“What’s the Force?”

“You’re killing me Smalls.”

“I’m not Smalls. I’m Owen.” He replied.

“Never mind.” Nicole said, walking over to the monitors that were displaying what her equipment had picked up. “Wow, so your vitals spiked. Your temperature stayed the same, which is weird, considering there was a glowing light in your chest. You’d think that it would have increased your body temperature a bit, but there was nothing.” She said. “This is incredible.” Turning back she looked at Owen. “And you’re saying that anyone can do this?”

“With the right amount of training and dedication, yes. This took me years to master.”

“Show me what else you can do.”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Well that had been crazy.

Nicole cupped the mug of coffee, which she had added a little Irish to, and lifted it up to her lips. She took a generous sip. Due to her research in genetics, specifically dealing with supers, the metagene, and the X-gene, she had seen a lot of things. She was privy to a lot of research, some of it furnished by the government, others acquired by Rand. But she had never seen anything quite like what Owen Reilly could do. What was crazy about it was that there was nothing inherently special about him.

He wasn’t a mutant like James Howlett, nor did he possess a metagene, like Dinah Lance. He hadn’t been radiated like Bruce Banner nor was he an alien from a different planet, like a Kara Zor-El. What he could do, he was able to do through training and harnessing a power within himself. Even more baffling was the notion that anyone could do what he did. At least according to what he was telling her. She had no reason to doubt him.

Sure, she had made a joke earlier about Ki and hot yoga, but she had never really delved into transcendental meditation or a lot of the eastern sciences’ work on focusing the body’s own energy. The human body created a lot of energy, it was one of the reasons why the daily caloric requirements were what they were. Using it though, channeling it in the ways that Owen could, that was not something you saw every day. There were stories of Buddhist monks doing incredible feats, and Owen did appear, on the outside and in his mannerisms, to follow a lot of Buddhist tenets. Nicole had never heard of a Buddhist monk being able to make his fist glow and punch through a steel-titanium alloy as she’d finally had him ramp up to.

Her eyes shifted over to the metal sheet. Five feet high and two feet wide, it was also two feet deep. He’d punched through it like it was butter. There had been no damage to his tissue or bones either.

Incredible.

“So what’s the outcome?”

She made a start, having forgotten in her musings the fact that she was not actually alone. She turned towards Owen, who was standing nearby, a beaker in his hands. He was lightly swirling the blue liquid in the beaker.

“I’m sorry?”

“What’s the outcome?” He asked again, setting the beaker down and turning towards her. “The purpose of your research is to assist people. Can you assist people through what you’ve learned today?” Owen asked.

She thought about it for a moment. “There’s no simple answer to what you’re asking.” She replied, taking another sip of her Irish coffee. “What you can do, it’s not something I see every day. I need more time to study you and delve more deeply.”

He nodded with a smile. “I am here for a few days as Mr. McKee stated. In that time, it would be a pleasure to assist you in any way that I can with your research. I assume this would be intensive and take time. Before we begin, I would ask a favor, if I could however.”

“Sure.” She said with a shrug and setting the cup of coffee down on a table.

“Utilizing my Ki, in the manner I did, it leaves me quite depleted of nutrients. Would there be a way for me to replenish my nutrients?”

“You really talk weird you know that?” She asked. “You’re hungry.”

He beamed. “Yes, quite.”

“We can grab some pizza.” Nicole said.

He nodded, sagely. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Ms. Hunter.” Owen said. “I deeply concur. We should grab some pizza.” He said and then paused, his brow furrowing. “Pardon, what’s pizza?”

Her eyes widened. “Let’s go Karate Kid. I’ve got a lot to teach you.”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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“This is delicious.”

Owen chewed and swallowed. He was on his second pizza, and there was something that told him he was starting to worry his companion. He turned to her and he lifted the slice of pizza he was currently on. “This truly is delicious.”

“Yeah.” Nicole said with a smile.

They were sitting in Tommy’s Pizza, the Manhattan branch. The pizza place was well known in the city and the walls were covered with photographs of people who had come to the pizza place. There were regular people and famous people. Tommy’s Pizza didn’t make a distinction. The place was packed as it usually was. This wasn’t even the busy time. But they had a booth to themselves.

Nicole had to admit she was enjoying this. He was like a little child. His eyes were alight, enjoying every bite he took.

“You don’t have this back in the monkastery, huh?” She asked.

“No, we do not.” He said, shaking his head. “We definitely do not.”

She leaned against the wall, drawing her legs up onto the bench. Pulling one of her knees up to her chest, Nicole put her arms around her knee. “So what was life like in the monkastery?” She asked, deciding that she liked her new nickname. “What was the training like?” She asked. “It couldn't have been easy.” Nicole reached out and pulled her straw from her soda, placing her thumb on one end. Putting the straw in her mouth, she released her thumb, letting the little bit of soda out.

He shook his head, taking a rest from his eating. “No, it wasn’t easy. We train for hours, every day. It is a grind, but it is rewarding.” He said. “There’s lessons on our martial arts, on our philosophies. There’s a lot of learning.” He paused, looking at the pizza. “The training is a necessary thing. It gives structure to life. Everything we do requires some kind of structure.”

She waved the straw at him. “Oh really? What, is that some kind of joke about my apartment.” Nicole said, raising an eyebrow. “You need to tread carefully. I don’t know any of that fancy jiu-jitsu stuff but I can take you out.”

Owen laughed. “No, no, nothing of the sort. That hadn’t even crossed my mind to be honest with you. I’m just an organized person, I guess. Structured. This has been the longest I’ve gone without my normal training regimen. The work in your laboratory was a bit…more than I’ve become accustomed to.” He said.

“What would you need?” She asked

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re going to be with us for a while so I thought…” She said and trailed off.

He smiled. “I appreciate that, Nicole, I do.”
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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Nicole stretched, her body twisting. Her eyes opened and she reached over, checking the time on her cell phone. It was two in the morning. Swinging her legs out onto the floor, she got up out of the bed. Moonlight filtered in through the shades and she stepped over, looking out of the window for the moment. New York City was still alive, despite the hour. It truly was the city that never slept. She walked out over into the rest of the apartment, moving around the collections of paper and equipment she had scattered throughout the apartment. It was almost muscle memory at this point. Stopping at the refrigerator, Nicole opened the door and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. Turning, she jolted, almost dropping the bottle of orange juice.

Owen was seated, his back against the wall, and his eyes were closed. The thing was, he was not actually sitting on anything. He was floating, over a stack of papers to be precise. Nicole stared for a moment, before she realized he did appear to either be sleeping or deep in some kind of meditation. She wasn’t going to bother him, even though she was incredibly intrigued by what was going on.

Better to ask him in the morning.

Pouring herself her glass of orange juice, she put the bottle away and headed back into her bedroom. She stood near the window, watching the rest of the city still up and about, moving around. She loved watching the city. Nicole had a birds eye view, thanks to the height of her apartment and from here she could see a great deal. It made her think about so many things. All these people living their lives, going about their business on a daily basis. All of them with their own set of troubles and problems. Nicole had been granted great talents and abilities, and she wanted to help as many of these people as possible.

It was one of the reasons why working under Harold was difficult. Often times, he could lose sight of the bigger picture, and focus too much on the bottom line. Nicole wasn’t an idiot, she understood how companies worked, but at the same time, keeping what was most important at the forefront constantly was the best way to go.

This was also one of the reasons why she was so wary about Harold knowing about the research with Owen. They had been at it for over two weeks now, and she was learning a great deal about Owen, K’un-L’un, and the way that the monks there did their thing. She couldn’t lie, a lot of it was baffling, but it was still incredible to learn about. There was so much data, and every different thing he could do brought about more questions than answers. The search for the answers made it all worthwhile and…well…fun.

Nicole turned around and got back into her bed. Her laptop was on the bedside table as well and she picked it up, opening it. Her face was bathed in the warm glow of the laptop’s screen. It may have been two in the morning but other people were up. There was work she could do.

The screens popped up, and she got to work.
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Re: The Man with the Iron Fists

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The egg broke, sending a wave of yolk out over the cooked ham and English muffin. The hollandaise sauce of the eggs benedict started to mix. Harold scrolled down further on the news article he was reading on his tablet, surveying some of the overseas news articles. Reports of things in the past that could affect the future. That’s what news was, in a sense. He had to stay abreast of it all, as the CEO of Rand Corporation. But there was something on his mind that was troubling him. This man, this Owen Reilly. He claimed to be from K’un-L’un and he knew a great deal about it that lined up with what information Danny Rand had left behind. This wasn't’ that big of an issue, but at the same time, it was something from the past that could affect the future. The future of Rand and thus, his future.

He had called the company attorneys to review the documents in the company’s possession, to see if they held any answers for questions that McKee had. The meeting was in a few minutes, in his penthouse overlooking Central Park.

New York was a paradise, McKee mused, as he reached for his glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. If one could afford it. Sunlight filtered through the tempered windows, and he ate his eggs benedict in peace, all the while waiting for the news. He sincerely hoped that the past was not going to affect his future.

When the doors to his dining area opened and his butler brought in the attorneys, Harold was finished with his breakfast, and was sitting there, looking over more news articles. His eyes lifted upwards and he took in the sight of the three smartly dressed lawyers as they filed in. Each one of them had a compensation package that was quite impressive. They stood at the other end of the table, until he gestured that they should sit.

“So?” He asked.

“Mr. McKee, you asked us to review certain documents. Daniel Rand’s will and the contents of his trust.”

McKee closed his eyes and nodded. He knew this already. Why did lawyers waste time telling him things he knew already? “So?” He asked.

“As you know, Danny Rand left no heir as far as we know, but he did not die intestate. He had a will. The will is, ultimately, meaningless and powerless. It was partially read out, but the rest of it has no bearing on what you asked about.”

Well, that was good news.

“But that’s only because the trust documents are so strong.” One of the other lawyers said. “I looked over the trust creation documents and there are some paragraphs in there that are a bit…sticky.”

“Sticky?” Harold asked, turning his gaze over to the man. “Is that an actual legal term? Sticky how?” He asked.

The third lawyer, the woman spoke. “The trust vests voting control of Daniel Rand’s stock in the company in the Board of Directors and the CEO. However, the trust gives full control to Daniel Rand’s heir and makes that person the primary beneficiary.”

“A few moments past, you said he left no heir.”

“Heir as we would define it. Heir as the trust would define it means something else.” The woman said. “The trust states that if anyone can prove that they are either Danny Rand’s blood relative, or the person is able to prove they have control of the power known as the Iron Fist, they are Daniel Rand’s heir and would gain control over his shares, which are eighty-two percent of the company.”
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