Iron Fist: Season 2

War of the Seven Weapons

Chapter 1

Clothes make the Man

Danny Rand was a man of two lives. One was spent in the offices of Rand Enterprises where he made decisions that affected the lives of his employees and his company while the other was spent on the streets in a green and yellow tracksuit fighting criminals with a glowing fist. The Iron Fist. Both lives had been complicated and hard-won for Danny.

Standing in front of his studio apartment door, he rested his head against it, leaving a streak of sweat as he removed it. Opening the door, he undid his tracksuit top and tossed it on his lounge chair. 3 AM in the morning and the shadows of the New York City lights were stretching across the room, forming shapes out of the shadows of his furniture and the racks of weapons he kept on the walls. He surveyed the physical contrast to his status as head of a multibillion-dollar company. Most expected him to live in a penthouse apartment with marble columns, champagne fountains, and a butler or two. Danny didn't believe in life like that. It wasn't what he was used to. He may own a company, but he liked living how he used to back at the temple. How he had been raised. No excess, only necessity.

He entered the bathroom, the lights revealing the numerous scars across his body and he got to work patching himself up. The souvenirs of his nighttime excursions to protect the city from the criminal underworld that had been left behind in the wake of the defeat of the Hand. Cuts, bruises, all were there. However, none of the scars were as striking as the tattoo on his chest. The mark of the dragon Shou-Lao. The symbol of the Iron Fist.

When he had been a child at the age of 9, his father's best friend and business partner, Harold Meachum, had betrayed the Rand Family, sabotaging the family's private jet and causing it to crash in the Himalayas. Both Wendell Rand and his wife Heather were killed in the crash with Danny barely surviving. Found and raised by the monks of the mystical city of K'un L'un, Danny was trained in the various forms of Kung Fu for one purpose: To become the Immortal Iron Fist. The Living Weapon. The protector of K'un L'un and the sworn enemy of the Hand.

In truth, the Hand had been responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life. If it wasn't for the Hand working with Harold Meachum, his parents wouldn't be dead. His childhood love, Joy, Harold's daughter, wouldn't hate him for the part he played in Harold's death and he wouldn't... he wouldn't have met Colleen.

Shutting off the light, he entered his bedroom to find her, Colleen Wing, lying in bed. She wore a grey tank top and matching pajama pants while laying in possibly the most disjointed position he'd ever seen. The bedsheets were tangled around her, a couple strands of her long black hair stuck in her mouth, and one leg was hanging off the side. He'd have laughed if it wouldn't wake her up. Instead, he leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, hefted her leg back up on the bed, and removed the hairs from her mouth.

Colleen gave a contented sigh as Danny helped himself to bed and wrapped his arms around her. Kissing her on the back of her neck, he thought back to the day they had met. Colleen and he hadn't gotten off on the right foot at first. His being raised in K'un L'un had made him very alien to the residents of the outside world and had also made him very arrogant as a result. The way he'd talked to Colleen and her students like he knew everything? Arrogant. The way he'd stepped in her dojo to "discipline" her students like he'd been by his sifu, Lei Kung the Thunderer? Arrogant. He'd even expected to just have his company handed back to him. Like everyone would have just been waiting for him to return with a parade and the key to his dad's office. Instead, he'd been accused of being a fraud by people he'd known since childhood and had to live in the park like a hobo.

Colleen had been the first person to truly call him out on his crap. She'd also become his first real ally in his quest to find the truth of what had happened to his parents. Then it was revealed that Colleen's dojo was nothing more than training future warriors for the Hand and Colleen was a believer in the Hand as a force for good. It had taken some doing, but Danny had finally convinced her that the Hand was wrong. Together, along with some new friends of Danny's, they had taken down the Hand. They had won. All at the cost of one man. A hero named Matt.

"Did you make them cry," Colleen whispered.

"Like they were 3 years old again," Danny whispered back.

"Any cuts?"

"A couple. Nothing too deep that needs to be stitched up. Applied the usual first aid."

"They didn't see your face, right?" Colleen was definitely awake this time if she was asking that question. She turned around in bed and looked him in the eye. "You have to protect your identity. The Hand may have known who you were, but the rest of New York shouldn't have to know how a boy billionaire goes out at night. You need a mask and you need some armor."

Danny went for his go-to move that was sure to disarm every foe out there. He gave her a peck on the nose. "Luke doesn't wear armor and he doesn't wear a mask."

Colleen gave him a glare. "Don't think a kiss will stop me, Richie Rich. You are not Luke. You are not bulletproof. You are mortal. You can die. The Hand killed many Iron Fists over the centuries and they had tons more experience than you. They had more skill than you do. They killed Bei Ming-Tian and that guy stopped the Mongol Hoard single-handed."

Danny felt a little offended. "Wait, are you saying I'm weak? I beat the Hand."

Colleen shook off his hug and sat up. "Danny, I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you only beat the Hand because you had me, Luke, Jessica, and Matt." She didn't waver when she said his name. She was serious. "The Hand always won because the Iron Fist was one Living Weapon against an army of Living Weapons. You had backup this time. What if someone else worse than the Hand comes along and puts you in the ground. You need help. You need to armor yourself."

Danny sat up and looked into her eyes that were starting to brim with tears. Colleen wasn't just Whistling Dixie. She was scared for him. She wanted him protected. It's why he loved her. He sighed. "Okay. I promise. I will look up armor to protect myself. I promise you." He leaned over to give her a soft kiss on the nose and then on the lips. "I will find a way to come home with only bruises."

Colleen smiled and hugged him around the neck. "That's all I ask for, Mr. Rand." The two lovers slowly drifted back to the pillows. Any plans of lovemaking were quashed as silent snores were heard from the mouth of the exhausted Immortal Iron Fist.

Melvin Potter wasn't stupid. That's what Betsy had told him. Nor was he a bad man like he'd used to be. He just got confused sometimes and when he got confused he did bad things. That's why Betsy was there for him. She was nice. She gave him medication that helped him when he got angry. He liked Betsy. She made him feel good in his heart. She'd told him that all she needed to be was his therapist, but Melvin wanted Betsy to be more. He'd thought about doing what his dad had done for his mom, getting on one knee and proposing. But if Betsy didn't want that, then she could just be his friend. He was fine with that. He liked her and didn't want her hurt.

Melvin had worked for bad men once like Wilson Fisk, making special armor for them that could stop bullets and knives. Mr. Fisk had threatened to hurt Betsy if he didn't help him make that armor. Betsy hadn't wanted him to do bad things like that, but he hadn't wanted Betsy getting hurt. Then the Devil came to him. Daredevil is what the papers had called him. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen had come to him to make a special suit that he could use to stop Fisk and keep Betsy safe. And he'd kept his promise. Betsy was safe and Mr. Fisk was gone. And so was Daredevil if the rumors were to be believed.

He was working hard to make sure that his tailor business was legitimate. No selling to bad people like Fisk. He would sell to good guys like Daredevil and his friends. He was opening up the warehouse where he did his work when he heard a voice behind him. "Melvin Potter?" He turned around to see a man with short blonde hair that was slightly curly. He'd seen his picture in the paper before. Danny Rand, head of Rand Enterprises was standing in front of him in a green and yellow tracksuit with a smile on his face.

"I'm Danny Rand and I was referred to you by a friend of a friend who you made armor for. I was hoping you could help me make something like his."

Melvin led him into the workshop where all his suits were hung with care. He still had a few of Fisk's suits left. He could use the material, but it was a reminder to him never to help bad guys again. Now here was a billionaire who wanted his help. "You a friend of Daredevil's, right? Not bad guys like Mr. Fisk?"

Danny shook his head. "No. I'm a friend of Daredevil. I understand you made armor for him?"

Melvin nodded, rubbing at his hairless head. "Yeah. He was nice to me. We fought at first, but then he promised to stop Fisk to save Betsy. Made him that armor." He stopped in front of his workbench. "Is... is it true he's gone," he asked without looking up.

"Gone, but not confirmed dead. I'm looking as best I can, Melvin. But I need new clothes. I need something to protect me. And I think you can help me."

Melvin nodded. Any friend of Daredevil was a friend of his. He picked up his tape measurer and turned around to face Danny. "Take the jacket off? I need to get a good measurement." Danny nodded and complied, leaving himself in his white tank top and green pants. As Melvin measured Danny, he explained what he was going to be doing. "You're a quick fighter so what I'm going to be making is going to sacrifice protection so you don't lose speed. It won't stop a bullet, but it will deflect a knife attack."

Danny chuckled. "Can you make it strong enough to deflect a sword blow? And what if the guy is a literal heavy hitter? Like a fist fighter?"

Melvin nodded. "Well, then you'll have to cut down on speed for that. How strong are you talking?"

"Like... what if someone half as strong as Luke Cage hit me?"

Melvin thought about that. "I'll have to get back to you on that, but I can compensate for bladed weapons. I'll need to test it, but... I think I can get it to you."

He finished his measurements, wrote them down, and stood up. "I'll need your number for when I can get back to you with the price and everything else. That okay?" Danny smiled and held his hand out for Melvin's notepad which he gave. He wrote the number down and handed it back to Melvin.

"Call me when you think you got it down. Any price you think is enough, write it down, I'll match it. Thanks, Melvin," he said with a warm smile. "From the bottom of my heart. Thanks."

He picked up his jacket and headed for the door. He stopped and turned around to Melvin. "Look. Daredevil made me promise to take care of the city before he... disappeared. Your armor could really help me do that. Oh, and... Yellow and green with a mask. Something like a bandana. Thanks."

Melvin smiled as he left. He had to tell Betsy the good news. He had made a new customer. A good one. And maybe even a new friend.

Mr. Tsang stood outside JFK with a sign that read "Zheng Zu". He'd been waiting since 8 in the morning. The flight had been scheduled for noon. He was not going to be late. Not for this man. Any other man would be worthy of half an hour early, but the man he was waiting for was worth it. A man of honor and distinction. A great leader that was readying to establish a foothold in New York. To fill the void that had been left by the Hand's defeat. Zheng Zu.

The door's opened to allow a crowd of people out. Tourists all. None worth his time. He kept his eyes peeled for him. The man he worked for. Zheng Zu, the head of the Seven Weapons. Then he saw him in the middle of the crowd.

He was tall. Six feet five inches tall in a blue tailored suit. His head was completely bald. Not a hair on top of it except for his lips. His mustache was perfectly trimmed, long enough to reach his chin. He carried an overnight bag with a porter carrying a larger suitcase on wheels. The most striking features about him though were his eyes. Steel grey with flecks of gold in them. No signs of emotion were betrayed. He was in complete control of himself.

Mr. Tsang held up the sign for Zheng Zu to see. Zheng nodded in his direction and motioned for the porter to follow. He stopped in front of Mr. Tsang, staring down at him, not speaking a word. Mr. Tsang bowed to Zheng Zu. "Master, it is an honor to have you here in New York. Please let me take your luggage." He held out his hands, still bowing, to take the suitcase. Zheng didn't move. Finally, he spoke.

"Do my arms look like they are brittle and broken?"

Mr. Tsang shook his head. "No, Master."

"I can take care of my own luggage. I am old, not helpless." He moved to the trunk, Mr. Tsang opening it, and placed his suitcase in, with the Porter following suit, with Zheng Zu tipping him personally. Generosity was one of Zheng's many qualities as a leader. He rewarded those that followed him and punished those that betrayed him. Mr. Tsang opened the back of the car for Zheng, bowing as he did. He closed up and took up the driver's seat.

"It is good to have you here, Master. Your timing is perfect."

"The Hand's defeat was inevitable. Alexandra was sloppy in her old age. She was old and it was time for her to go. Same with Bokuto, Murakami, and Sowande."

"And Madame Gao, Master," Mr. Tsang asked.

Zheng's eyes closed as he considered his words. "Madame Gao was a well of information. She served the Seven well as our connection to the Hand's activities." He paused. "Has she been found?"

Mr. Tsang nodded. "She has, Master. Two nights ago. The Iron Fist was close to her location. Luckily, he wasn't looking for her. Ran into a cocaine ring."

"One of ours?"

"No, Master. Someone else's. Nothing to be concerned about. Madame Gao is safe and healing. She's a strong woman, Master."

"Of course she is. She's the Crane Mother. She's one of us. A Master. When she's strong enough to meet, let me know."

"I will, Master. I promise you."

"Good. Bring me to my hotel. I am tired. It's been a long plane ride."

"At once, Master."

At the hotel, Zheng tipped the bellboys, placed the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob and faced the window of his penthouse suite. New York City. Manhattan. One of the most diverse cities in the United States of America. He'd only been here twice. Once to find his child and the second to meet the Seven Weapons and to explain the plan. He'd never been here to explore it. Never as a tourist. Never had the time to see the sights like the Empire State Building, the Brooklyn Bridge, or even Chinatown. He had work to do. But he had time to wait. The Weapons would be here when it was time. He had time to see New York City. Time. That was all he needed. He would look up this new Iron Fist. Test his Mettle. He smiled. Maybe... Maybe his son would be here as well. He wanted to catch up with Shang.