Fox off the Mountain
Mists had risen off the waters of Hong Kong in the early hours just before dawn. It served to conceal most things from the sight of the innocent and the just. Such as the cargo being secretly loaded onto a small freighter by a band of street thugs and dockhands who knew to keep their mouths shut. Overseeing the operation was a large Hong Kong native, his face covered in scars, his suit clean and pressed. Beside him stood two bodyguards, also wearing clean suits, with their hands never far from the guns concealed in their jackets. They were prepared for anything, cops, rival gangs, anything. Except that which had rode in on the mists.
The first sign that something had gone amiss was when the men on the perimeter of the dock and warehouse failed to call in on time. The boss decided to call in some guards off the ship. They came down the loading ramps and gangplanks, semiautomatics and handguns out and ready. The boss pulled out a cell-phone but before he could dial a knife flew out of the mists and struck it out of his hand, leaving a clean and bleeding gash in its wake.
"Get him!" yelled the boss, and the men obeyed, firing blind into the mists. The bullets hit nothing but air and water. A cry and a splash and the boss saw one of the guards was gone. Two more cries followed by two metallic thuds and two more were gone. The boss had his own handgun out and tried to fire into the mists along with his men, but they did not strike their unseen enemy. Then the laughter came. Loud, raucous, almost like some kid the boss had heard running through the streets. It came from everywhere, from the mists around them, from the air above their heads, and the boss could have sworn he felt the concrete beneath his feet ever so slightly shake in time with the laughter. The boss had enough, "Come out. Are you such a coward as to rely on mists and shadows rather than face us?"
"Wow, now there's some balls." The boss whirled to where the voice had come from just behind but all he saw were dust specks disturbed by the wind. Wait. There wasn't any wind otherwise the mist would have already been blown away. "Guess I've got to give you Wo Shing Wo1 that." The boss turned towards the warehouse, where his remaining men were pointing their guns, and where a very strange sight stood.
In front of the dockside doors of the warehouse, before a crowd of dockworkers cowering amongst crates and loading machines, and out in the open for all to see, stood a young man. The stranger's hair was sunny yellow, his skin lightly tanned, and his blue eyes shined with a light that the boss had only seen on the most devoted street racers. But the rest of face and head, save for his mouth was concealed by a mask of some sorts. The mask connected along his neck to a black armless bodysuit with the shoulders and sides marked by six bands of orange. The boss could hear a few of the men behind him snickering. The fools. If what indeed stood before them was some new masked vigilante like they had all over the US, then there was no telling what the stranger could be capable of. The boss looked the costumed stranger in the eye, "What have you done with my men."
The stranger's face broke into a broad grin, "Wow, guts and you care about your comrades. That's something. Don't worry, they're all back on your boat taking a long nap." Suddenly the stranger pointed at the boss, "Tell you what Wo Shing Wo man, tell me where you're shipping this stuff for Ghost Snake and leave it so I," gesturing with a thumb to himself, "won't have to kick more of your asses." And still he smiled.
The boss narrowed his eyes at the stranger, "I am afraid that neither is possible. The shipment is paid for and as you have identified us as Wo Shing Wo then you know we cannot simply let you get away with this."
The stranger just kept smiling, "Understood." Then he moved and he seemed to run on the air. Gunfire fell upon him in streams and torrents, a dozen barrels spitting lead and flame. But none of it touched him. The stranger, who laughed and smiled the whole time, just swerved and danced around the bullets that came at him. He closed in on one guard who then tried to strike with the butt of his gun. But the stranger let fly an open palm, breaking through the gun and sending the man spinning. He then swerved onto the next nearest gunmen and, without slowing down, grabbed him, spun, and tossed him in a long arc into the water. Two more gunmen went down just as quickly but the rest, including the boss retreated up onto the deck of the freighter. They formed themselves into a circle in the middle of the deck, weapons facing all directions. Except up.
When he came down into the deck, the force of the landing dented the steel deck and scattered the men in all directions. They had been rendered disoriented, shocked, and mostly unaware of what had just happened. Then he danced among them, riding the wind, wielding the strength of an ogre, and striking with fists that felt like sone, until only the boss was left. He'd lost his handgun over the side in the stranger's sudden and thunderous attack. He carried a spare strapped to his thigh but what good was it going to do against such a man?
When the stranger finished knocking out the last of the men, he turned to the boss, and jumped clear from one side of the deck to the other where the boss lay. He stood tall above the boss, and the triad man suddenly felt as if he were at the foot of a mountain. "Are you going to tell me about Ghost Snake now?" The boss looked up just as the sun broke over the horizon and set the stranger's yellow hair an even more vibrant glow. The sunlight danced off his blue eyes and bright, white smile.
"Who are you?"
The stranger crossed his arms, squared his shoulders, and spoke in a voice filled with iron and will, "I'm the future Great Sage of the Mountain Wrapped in Leaves. I'm Stonefox." Smiling the whole time. "Now start talking."
1 Wo Shing Wo- one of the oldest of the Honk Kong triads. Brought to you via Wikipedia.