Chapter 1: The Twists of the Serpent

The hot shower helped. It loosened his muscles, and helped to calm him down. He had been freaking out before. He was still freaking out, but it was more manageable now. The tattoo hadn't washed off in the shower though. Xander hadn't figured it would, but there had been a small hope. A dead hope now. He just made sure to put on a shirt before leaving the bathroom. He wasn't sure if his parents would care, or even notice, but he didn't the need the aggravation.

He walked back to his room quietly, much quieter than he would have figured. He knew to avoid the areas of carpet where the floorboards creaked. He knew to stay by the walls, because that would make his steps quieter. Xander didn't know how he had known, but the knowledge had been there. In his subconscious.

It was still early by the time he had finished his shower and gotten back to his room. Way earlier than he usually woke up. Once inside, he made sure to close and lock the door. Turning towards the mirror, he took off his shirt as he walked over to it. He examined his body. Not for vanity, but to see exactly what had changed. He ignored the brand on his chest, looking at where the tail of the dragon was pointing. His abdominals were much more defined. He ran a hand over them, feeling that they were much harder than they had ever been. Almost abnormally hard. He idly wondered if the ache he still felt all over had been a result of his body's changes. It was lessened now though, as if his body had started to cope with what had happened.

Raising his head and shifting his vision, he looked at his arms. Flexing his biceps, he noticed that they had gained in definition. They weren't huge, but were lean and strong. Like a gymnast's arms. He still didn't know exactly what had caused the change, or what the weird light was, but he was beginning to like it.

Xander put his shirt back on, careful to make sure that the button down t-shirt hid the entire dragon tattoo. He walked over to his dresser, opening it and taking out a pair of jeans. As he was about to put them on, he hesitated. Looking down at them, he felt compelled to put them back. He pulled out a pair of sweats instead, slipping them over his boxers. Socks and a pair of sneakers went on his feet.

Pulling a hoodie over his head, he was about to leave before stopping and looking over his shoulder. His eyes came to rest on his bed. Or more specially the area underneath it. Walking over, he bent down, feeling for the yellow mask that lay beneath. He grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket as he left, his keys and wallet joining the mask.

xxx

The teenager ran. He didn't exactly know where he was going, but he ran. Faster than he would have thought he could for an extended period of time. It was as if he just couldn't get tired. The normal stitch that should have appeared at his side after a mile or so wasn't there. Fatigue did not make his movements less assured or halting. More than that, he moved more fluidly than he ever had. Xander had been to the Bronze many times. He knew how graceful, or rather ungraceful, he could be. But, it was different now. He was constantly moving, never losing his balance. Never missing a step. Flowing, like water.

Before he had figured out where he was heading, he looked up and saw that he had ended up in front of the high school. He breathed out slowly, enjoying the lack of pain from the exertion. The ache that had affected him earlier was gone as well. It was Saturday, so there was nobody milling around outside. Looking over to the teacher's lot, he noticed that Giles' grey Citroën was parked there. The school librarian and Watcher was at school. Or been there on Halloween night and had never left.

He headed towards the large main building, figuring that if Giles was inside, he had left the door closest to the library unlocked.

It didn't take long to get there, and a simple pull revealed that he had been right. Looking inside quickly, he made sure that nobody was there before slipping inside. Jogging down the hallway he was momentarily struck by the irony of intentionally stepping foot on campus during the weekend. He suppressed the urge to laugh as he reached the entrance to the library.

Pushing aside the double doors, he entered the large book depository. Walking past the checkout counter as he scanned for the presence of the librarian, he noticed that he wasn't making as much noise as he usually did. He was almost stealthy.

"Giles?" Xander said aloud, inquiringly. The Watcher wasn't at the main table, but he could be in the stacks on the second floor. He spun around as he heard the door to the private office behind the counter open. It was Giles.

Looking down, he noticed that he had clenched his fists. It had been an unconscious action, like he had been preparing himself for attack. Unclenching, and shaking it off, he moved towards the check out desk.

The librarian didn't look well. There were dark bags under his eyes, his glasses not able to hide them from view. His hair was disheveled, and there was some stubble on his chin. It was unlikely that he had been home for the night. And Halloween was supposed to be an off night for the supernatural.

"Xander," Giles said, blinking hard. He was surprised by the unexpected appearance. "Is Buffy with you?"

Xander shook his head. "No, I came by myself. Not sure why exactly. Just found myself here."

"Did you need something?" the Watcher asked, glad that his charge had not received any other ill effects from the spellwork of the night before.

Xander hesitated, wondering exactly what he should say. Shrugging his shoulders, the teenage boy pulled the hoodie up and over his head. He set it on top of the countertop. "You know the spell from last night?"

Giles nodded, wondering what the boy was doing.

"Well, I think it did more than we thought," Xander continued, as he unbuttoned his shirt. It slowly revealed the black dragon tattoo on his chest. He moved the tails of his shirt aside so that the older man could get a good look at it.

"Good lord," Giles muttered sharply. "When did you acquire that?"

Xander just glared at the librarian.

The Watcher looked away briefly. The lack of sleep was catching up to him. "Quite right. Are there any other effects?"

Xander shrugged, letting the shirt hang down. He pointed at his stomach, moving it to point out the change in his physique. "Look at this. I'm cut. I mean, seriously. This is like Bruce Lee action going on. And I move different. More liquidy and I don't get tired as much. I just ran here. Straight out, and I don't even feel tired yet."

Giles looked at the tattoo closely. He had never seen anything like it before, although the dragon had been used in a number of cultures as the symbol of many different groups. Good and evil. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Xander said slowly. "I made my hand glow and I think I healed some bruises with it."

"Really?" Giles asked skeptically.

Xander just looked at the other man. "Yes, really."

He held up his hand, willing it to glow again. He looked at it closely, wishing it to work again.

Giles looked at it, not knowing exactly what to expect.

Nothing happened, as Xander continued to stare at it, concentrating and twisting his face as he tried to force it to catch on fire. Still nothing happened. He tried to shake it a few times, making a fist. Still nothing. "Okay, okay. Maybe I'm just nervous. It'll happen."

"I'm sure," Giles replied, refraining from making any additional comments.

Xander sighed and dropped his hand. "I'm telling you, it happened."

"Indeed. I believe you, Xander," Giles said. He knew enough to know that the boy wouldn't have made up a story about a glowing fist if it wasn't true. Especially not with the large tattoo on his chest. "I'm sure it happens to a lot of people…"

Xander ignored the comment, as well as the unintentional implication. "So what are you doing here? It's Saturday. No tea and crumpets at home? No Saturday morning cartoons?"

"I was looking into the Janus spell that Ethan used last night," Giles said, restraining the desire to growl out the magical practitioner's name. "As far as I can tell, there shouldn't have been any long lasting effects from the spell. What did you dress up as?"

Xander shrugged. "I thought it was just some super hero costume thing. I didn't recognize it, but I figured it was something old. Golden Age old. I really have no idea."

"Let me see the tattoo again," Giles asked, straightening his glasses. He waited as Xander moved the sides of his shirt, bringing the ink into full view. He thought hard, trying to see if there was anything in the myriad of texts and tomes that he had read that even remotely matched what he was seeing now. Try as he might, nothing came to mind. "I'm sorry, I don't recognize it. I'll have to check, but I honestly have no idea where to start. It doesn't look like a European species, nor any Asian ones that I am familiar with. It could just be a generic figure that is used as a symbol of a group. It'll take some time to look into."

"What about getting rid of it?" Xander asked, though there was a part of him that felt deep reluctance. He shook it off though. "I mean, if it's from the spell from last night, there's gotta be a way to reverse it, right?"

The Watcher shook his head. "All of my research indicates that what Ethan told me is the truth. Breaking the statue of Janus reversed the spell. There literally is nothing left to reverse. It would be too dangerous to try anything to get rid of it. Whatever you have now, whatever it's turned you into, I'm sorry, but it's permanent."

Xander clenched his jaw and nodded. "That's just great."

The boy heard the door to his side open. His body turned towards it on its own, his mind needing to catch up. It was Jenny Calendar, the computer teacher. As he watched her look at him, her eyes heading towards his chest, he felt the urge to blush and cover up. As it was, he felt frozen and unable to move. Like a deer caught in high beams.

"I can explain," Xander stumbled out. He unclenched his fists once again.

The dark haired woman moved closer, seemingly entranced by the tattoo on a very well muscled body. Unconsciously she lifted a hand to stroke it. It didn't feel like any tattoo she had ever felt. The texture of the skin was oddly smooth.

"Ahem," Giles coughed out, glaring slightly at the woman. And then at the boy.

Jenny blushed slightly as she came back to herself and saw what she was doing. She dropped her hand to her side. "Right. Sorry."

"It's okay," Xander managed to get out. It wasn't every day that a pretty darn attractive teacher touched his bare chest. Well, Ms. French got close, but that really shouldn't count. He buttoned his shirt, making sure that he used the right ones. It wouldn't do to misbutton and have to do over again. He knew that he wasn't blushing, although he knew that he should have been, given the circumstances. The teenager chalked that one up to the changes that his body had been through too.

While seemingly permanent, maybe the change wasn't so bad. There hadn't been any real negative effects yet at any rate. A slim hope, though he figured that the other shoe would drop soon enough. That was the way it worked in Sunnydale.

"What is that?" Ms. Calendar said, taking a step back out of Xander's personal space. He was a student after all.

"A parting gift from last night," Xander replied, taking a few steps back. He noticed a wooden dummy in the cage at the end of the lower level of the library. He moved closer to it. "What's this?"

Giles looked over to where Xander was standing. He was mildly annoyed at him, though he could hardly blame it on the teenager. Besides, it wasn't like Jenny and he were officially together. They had only gone on a couple of dates, and it had been an innocent touch. Still, there was something horribly inappropriate about the whole thing. He shook it off, chalking it up to the somewhat surreal nature of their existence on the Hellmouth. "It's a new training dummy for Buffy. She's broken the last one, hopefully this one will last longer."

Xander stared at the wooden training dummy inside the open cage. He took a step closer to it, coming to a stop at the correct distance instinctively. A whisper in his mind informed him that it was a variant of a traditional Wing Chung training dummy. He went with it, letting the whisper grow in his mind. Letting it consume him.

"Xander?" Giles questioned, watching as the boy took a step closer to the training tool.

It was as if the name had travelled through a thick blanket of fog. Xander barely heard it echo as he continued to look at the wooden figure. It was made from a thick log, with padding wrapped along it in two spots. Beneath them, stout wooden arms stood out.

His vision was clear, but what he could only describe as large red spots appeared on the figure. Xander didn't know how, but he knew that it was an indication of where to strike. On an actual human it would have corresponded to joints or pressure points or other such targets. Areas of vulnerability that maximized the damage that a strike would do.

Xander's arm came up without conscious decision. Before he knew it, he had struck hard. The name came unbidden to his mind as it occurred.

Burning dove chop. A cracking sound thundered as one of the arms on the figure broke apart. Before it could hit the ground, Xander had shifted to strike again. His body was fluid, his movements unbroken as he entered another position.

Palm of forty sorrows. He didn't even feel the hard wood against his hand as he broke through the other wooden arm. Again he moved, body and mind flowing freely without restraint. The unconscious focus allowed him to transcend the need to think through his actions.

Golden star gouge. His right fist burst through the thick log. The padding did nothing as the wood seemingly exploded from his blow.

Time slowed as he came back to himself. He looked at himself. He was in some sort of martial arts stance, his hands clenched in fists held before him. For a moment, his right hand flashed, engulfed in orange and yellow flame. It died out as quickly as it had come.

Xander gulped, breathing in and out deeply. He turned, seeing the fear in Ms. Calendar's eyes, though she tried to mask it. He continued to turn slowly towards the Watcher, confusion and fear clearly evident on his face. He could see some of that in Giles' face as well. "What the hell is happening to me?"

xxx

"Dragon," the seer gasped out. The wrinkled mouth continued to voice quiet words. They were hard to make out, but the high gain microphones set in the walls of the stone room picked them up easily. As the grey skinned demon started to flail about, it spoke again. This time more loudly. "The dragon has awoken. The dragon has awoken. The fist has appeared. The fist has appeared. Burning justice. Iron justice. When the double dragon meets, the world will be set aflame."

Tim, the guard in the next room, spasmed as he heard the words. It was his job to monitor the recordings and to make sure that anything important was reported upstairs as quickly as possible. Despite his five years on the job, he had never heard anything but random words and nonsense from the demon in the other room. Now something was happening.

He shifted into professional mode, his hands working the instruments of his console. He made sure that the cameras were recording and that the audio was being picked up. If anything was missed because he had been inattentive, it would be his head. Literally.

Tim waited to see how long the message would go on. The seer repeated itself once more before stopping, slumped in its seat. The restraints pinned its arms to the strong metal chair that it had been strapped into.

Taking a couple of quick breaths to calm himself, he reached for the red phone to his right. Picking up the handset, he dialed the extension for the office upstairs. While he was waiting for the call to be picked up, he transferred the video and audio to a small removable drive.

"Get me Mr. Manners," Tim said quickly to the personal assistant that he reached. He waited for the file to download from the central server, as he heard himself being placed on hold. It was only a minute or so before the partner came onto the line. "Mr. Manners, it's Tim in Psychic Monitoring. There's something you need to see immediately."

xxx

"Xander…," Giles managed to make out as he finished watching Xander's display of strikes. He had never seen anything like it. It was fast, almost impossible to follow. The style was nothing familiar either. It didn't appear to have the strikes of aikido nor the more limited variety seen in jiu jitsu. It looked more similar to Kung Fu, but did not appear to be the same. It was like Xander's style and Kung Fu had a common ancestor, metaphorically speaking, but had branched off to evolve independently. And even more than that, Xander should not have been able to utterly destroy the thick wooden dummy without having had prior training. Training that he knew for a fact that the boy did not possess.

The librarian walked out from around the counter and headed towards the book cage. "What was that?"

"Burning dove chop," Xander said, the name once again appearing in his mind. He pointed at the first of the two broken wood arms. He pointed at the second. "Palm of forty sorrows."

The teenager nodded his head toward the splintered top of the training dummy. The remnants of what had been on top lay around the base of the figure. "Golden star gouge."

"How do you know that?" Jenny said quietly, coming up behind the boy.

Xander looked over his shoulder. He wasn't even breathing hard. "I have no idea."

He took a breath and turned to face the Watcher. He looked up to Giles. Without a strong male figure at home, Giles had pretty much become a surrogate role model. Not a father, but someone that he could rely on. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Do you remember anything else about last night?" Giles asked as looked down at what remained of the training dummy. Buffy could accomplish the same. Probably more in terms of sheer damage. But his movements. He had never seen the boy move so gracefully. Buffy could not match the sheer skill of the display that he had just seen. The preciseness of his blows. The Watcher knew that if Xander had struck someone with those attacks, the person would surely be dead. Whatever Xander had been the night 

before, he had been trained as a formidable warrior. An expert in the martial arts. An expert in a form that he had never seen before.

Xander reached into his back pocket and pulled out the folded yellow mask that he had placed there. He opened it up and showed it to the two adults in the room. "I don't remember anything else, but this was with the costume I wore last night. This and an old gun holster."

Giles looked at the yellow mask. It was no more familiar than the dragon tattoo or the fighting style that Xander now possessed. Together, it might make the search somewhat quicker. But, without somewhere to start, it was like having to count the grains of sand on only half of the beaches on Earth. It was a big world. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you, Xander."

He looked depressed at the thought. Xander couldn't blame the man, but did feel disappointed. It was like there was a presence in the back of his mind that he couldn't get rid of. The tighter he tried to grasp it, the more easily it slipped through his fingers. "I…I understand."

"I'll try to look," Giles started. "But, without knowing where to begin, I don't know when I might find something. Or if I even will."

Xander looked down at the yellow mask in his hands. It looked back at him with hollow eyes, as if posing a question that he couldn't hear nor comprehend. He felt the temptation to put it on again, knowing that there was righteousness in that desire. But, he couldn't. Not until he figured out what he was and how to control his new powers.

"Buffy might know something," Jenny blurted out. She had been informed late last night by Giles. A warning to stay indoors because kids were turning into their costumes. It had been sweet of him to do it. The two men looked at her, asking her silently to continue. "She was there last night, right? The principal grouped you together. She might know something about what happened and what you are now."

"Hey, that's a good idea," Xander said, a smile on his face for the first time that day. He folded the mask and placed it back into his pocket carefully. He noticed that his hand flashed again as he did so.

Frowning, he struggled to try to control it. To keep it on or to keep it off, both seemed to be beyond his ability.

He turned to look at the two of them. "I think I need to be alone for a while. Giles, could you talk to Buffy and Willow about this? I mean, maybe tomorrow or something. You look like you need some sleep."

Giles nodded, noticing the lost expression on the boy's face. "I will, but I can do it today. Maybe you should stay here. I can call them to come over here when they can."

"Thanks," Xander replied. He shook his head though. "But, I think I really need to just not be here right now. You can call them later. I don't imagine the situation will have changed much by tomorrow. It can wait."

He walked over to the counter and picked up his hoodie. He placed it back on his shoulders and pulled it down over his t-shirt. After he had finished, Xander walked out the door.

The Watcher watched him go, frowning as he noticed how subdued the boy was. While he did find Xander's enthusiasm annoying, he couldn't deny him his heart and loyalty. It was worrying that the young man was so troubled. Not that Xander didn't have good reason to be.

Jenny also watched him go, a frown marring her attractive face. She turned to Giles, speaking aloud, "I should talk to him."

Giles looked at her, continuing to frown. "Do you think that it's wise? This might be something that he needs to work through on his own."

"Maybe. But, I should try. Somebody needs to," Jenny replied. She walked quickly out the door, not even waiting for a response, hoping that she would be able to catch up to the young man.

xxx

"You don't need to see my passport," Orson said, waving his hand in front of the airline employee standing at the booth in front of him. It glowed green in small bursts, dazzling the young woman that was at the counter. Simple movements of his fingers made the glow dance.

It had been a long time since he had used a passport, and his real one would not pass muster anymore. Not with him looking how he did at his age. He had destroyed it long ago. Just one of a long string of possessions that he had let go of. When he had been called back to fight in the Tournament, it had been too much. War had changed him. Too much blood and too much death. For too little reason. He had disappeared, taking on a new role. Adventurer and man of fortune. Eventually even that grew tiresome and he had secluded himself from the world. He had let it all go. His mask. His guns. His uniform. He had let it all go.

He placed his payment on the top of the counter. "This is enough."

"Uh, yes," the woman said in her accented English. She gathered the currency and then typed on her computer, printing out a ticket and boarding pass and handing it to the blonde man in front of her.

"Thank you," Orson said, taking the pieces of paper and walking over to the boarding gate. A single bag was in his hands. Some clothes, money, and other supplies. Pretty much everything that he owned. Everything in there replaceable. Except for one thing. The Book. The history of everything he had been. Of everything that they had been, all the way back to the first. A proud history. But, one that bore a heavy price on those that would take on the mantle.

He stood in line, waiting for his turn to go through the checkpoint on his way back to America. That was where he knew that his target was. He didn't know the exact city, or even state, but he knew that much. And he knew that whoever it was, he would likely use the power of Shou-Lao the Undying again. And the more that he used it, the more that he would be able to track his prey.

For a moment, he wondered about the reasons for his decision. He supposed that K'un-L'un could have chosen another champion. Another Immortal Weapon. That someone had tested himself against the dragon and had claimed its heart. Had claimed the power of the Iron Fist. That it had not been stolen. It didn't change anything though. Whoever it was, Orson would have to find him. He still had possession of the Book. The new Iron Fist, if that was what he was, would not have all the answers. Would not know what was out there. Would not know what lay before him when he reached his thirty-third birthday.

The day that all Iron Fists died.

xxx

"Xander," Ms. Calendar called after the departing boy. She hurried to catch up to him in the hallway. "Xander, stop. Wait."

Xander stopped, lowering his hands from the hood that he had just raised. He didn't turn around though. "I don't think you want to be here right now, Ms. Calendar."

"I don't think you should be alone right now," the computer teacher continued to press. "We should talk."

"What's there to talk about," Xander said, looking ahead at the door to the outside. There would be no cars on the street outside. Nobody walking the outside corridors of the school grounds. Nobody came to school on a Saturday. A thought occurred to him. "Why are you at school?"

"I had some updates to install on the computers. I saw Rupert's car and heard voices in the library," Ms. Calendar replied, walking up to the boy. She moved around in front. If he didn't want to turn around to face her, she would move instead. "And, you're avoiding the subject."

Xander looked at her. "Why do you want to help me?"

"Because you need it," Jenny said simply. She brushed her short hair back and over an ear, looking him in the eye. She wouldn't be the first one to turn away. "Because I think I can help."

The teenager continued to look at the woman in front of him. He touched a hand to his chest, touching the brand there, despite the layers of cloth. "Alright."

xxx

"Hunh," Xander said, looking out the window of the car. He looked up at the rather nice looking apartment complex that they had pulled into. It wasn't exactly what he had expected, although he didn't know exactly what he should have expected. "Is there a reason why we came here?"

Jenny nodded, opening the driver's side car door and getting out. Xander did the same on his side. "It's quiet. And I think it'll be better to not be at school for this."

Xander thought about the power that lay beneath the floor of the library. Maybe it was for the best that he not try to mix magics. No telling what would be the result. "Didn't you have something to install on the school computers?"

Ms. Calendar looked at him, wondering if he was actually concerned or trying to brush her off now that they had arrived at their destination. "I can get to school early on Monday and do it then. Or do it on Sunday."

They started for her apartment, Xander following. He couldn't help but look at the way that she walked, though mentally he had to remind himself that she was with Giles. Besides, the whole teacher student thing didn't happen in real life. Not to any significant degree that he would have to deal with it at any rate. Not to mention the fact that it would be bad news for all parties involved. Of course, despite the more logical thought process than usual, his brain mouth filter didn't work. "You know, there's more than few guys at school that would kill to be in my shoes right now."

Ms. Calendar turned around, a wry smile on her face. She said nothing though.

Xander had to take a second to figure out what he had said. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with a hand. "Oh man, I can't believe I just said that."

She waited until he looked at her again before speaking. "It's flattering, really. But, that's not going to get you out of this."

"Right," Xander said, grinning weakly. "I guess it's not going to work."

They continued on to her home.

xxx

Xander was seated, his legs crossed on the rug in the center of the main room of his teacher's apartment. He had taken a look around before they had started and it was nicely furnished. Again, he didn't know exactly what to expect but looking at what she had, he wasn't exactly surprised. There was a nice high-end computer on a desk in the corner. A few bookcases with a number of books, probably in some type of order lined a couple of the walls. An eclectic mix of reading material. There were some old looking volumes of magic. Traditional texts and apparently some spell books if the titles were to be believed. Mixed among them were computer manuals and handbooks in varying colors. Red, orange, 

green, there was even a book on the coffee table that they had pushed next to the couch that had a picture of a guy in a nasty pink shirt on the cover.

He watched as Jenny lit a candle and placed it on a small plate before him. She took a seat mirroring him on the other side, drawing her legs and crossing them.

"Where did you learn this?" Xander asked, looking at the thick candle. It looked handmade, with a wide wick and heavy yellowish shaft of wax.

"Here and there," the technologically focused witch replied. She concentrated on controlling her breathing. She wanted to be as calming a presence as possible. "Technopaganism isn't all about technology you know."

Xander nodded, continuing to watch the dancing flame. There was something familiar about it. Something comforting.

"That's good," Jenny said, looking at the candle as well. "Look into the candle. Control your breathing. Deep, even breaths. That's good."

She watched as Xander did as instructed. He stared at the large yellow flame that slowly burned the wick. The light was reflected in his eyes. "Now, close your eyes. Empty your mind of everything but the flame."

Xander breathed in and out. He closed his eyes and formed the flame in his mind. He concentrated on its flickering existence. Thinking of nothing but the flame.

"Think back," Jenny said in a calming voice. "Think back before yesterday. Think through the tattoo on your chest. Where did it come from? What does it mean? Why is it important? Think back."

Xander concentrated, watching as the flame morphed into the form of a dragon. A thin bodied form, with wide wings and a curving tail. It flickered, before changing once again. It filled out and solidified. It was a long serpent, red in color with large jaws and wickedly sharp teeth. It hissed as it moved, twisting to and fro like a cobra. It looked at him, its jaws wide as it darted forward, engulfing his mind's eye.

There were flashes. Of other places and other times. Xander heard a cacophony of sounds. The sounds of battle. Of cries for justice. Of blood being spilt on both sides of the line. Of a call answered.

He saw a man. A man on a mountain, dressed in green and yellow. A large hat made of straw on his head. He stood before an army. The armies of the Khan came riding.

The man stood before the unstoppable hordes.

He saw a woman. A woman garbed in a green dress, with a yellow dragon emblem on the front. She held a bow and rained fire down upon an armada of pirates in Pinghai Bay.

The woman let loose lightning from God.

He saw a man. A man dressed in green, with a yellow turban on his head. He stood at the head of an army, defending the Taku Forts against the British on the shores of Pei Tang.

The man stood before the Empire, unafraid of dying.

He saw a man. A man dressed in green robes with a yellow mask covering the top of his face. He walked through the deserts of the West. Bringing law to the lawless.

The man walked among barbarians, leaving civilization in his wake.

He saw a man. A man dressed in a green turtleneck and a yellow mask. He was running and crawling through trenches and wire and mud. Mustard gas in the air, and all around men choking to death.

The man leapt forward, his twin .45's spitting fiery death.

There were more flashes. Harder to make out, going back in time. He counted sixty-six before he found that he couldn't keep up. The images came faster and faster. Harder to control.

Then calm. The flame. He didn't know exactly what had happened. But he knew that it was important. That the power that he had was a gift, as well as a burden. He hadn't chosen it. He hadn't chosen to be marked with the symbol of the dragon. He had not fought the serpent. He had not put his chest to that of Shou-Lao the Undying. He had not plunged his hands into the brazier that held the dragon's molten heart. He had not done any of it, but he carried the mark now. He had the power inside him now.

He knew what he was now.

He who holds back the storm, when nothing else can.

The Iron Fist.

xxx

Orson groaned, clutching his chest. He was still in the air over the Pacific. The flame in his soul burned as it was stoked and used. He concentrated on it, feeling the source of the tapping.

It died down after a few minutes. But, it had been enough. He had been lucky. He knew that the power of the Iron Fist had resurfaced. Resurfaced in California, where he was heading. Hopefully it wouldn't take long to find him.

For both their sakes.

xxx

Xander could see nothing else. Nothing else about what he was, only darkness. Yet before he could lose all hope, he saw a light. A thin flicker of light. Floating towards it, he grasped at it, pulling himself 

towards it. He knew not what it was, but by the time he had figured it out, it was too late. He was inside.

The mental flashes came again. This time, he knew that they weren't his. Not of him, nor any of his line.

He saw a girl, crying out in pain as she was taken. Drained by a monster in the night. A flash of malevolent glowing eyes, fangs, and blood.

He saw a cry for vengeance. Vengeance answered as a curse came down. A dark curse that found its target easily, consuming him with guilt. Consuming him with a soul.

He saw more. A line of men and women chosen to watch; all similar to each other. To ensure that blood vengeance continued. The price. Their burden. Men and women flashed before him. The clothes changed. Newer and newer styles appeared. But, the dark hair remained the same.

Then he saw her. The last image.

She was looking at him, as if she knew that he was there. The shock on her face evident. He recognized her. Knew her.

And, he had a name.

Kalderash.

Then Xander woke up, his eyes snapping open.

The teenager bolted to his feet, quicker than he had ever been able to. He looked down at the woman still seated in front of him, accusation in his eyes. From the look on her face, he knew that she knew what he had seen.

"Who are you?"