"I know what you're thinking." Turk Barret gave a smooth smile, running a hand over a bar counter stacked with guns. "I'm trying to upsell you. You don't need anything fancy. You're looking to protect yourselves in order to do business."

"Yeah. You're right, Turk. You do know what I'm thinking. Now quit playing and just give us what we asked for."

"Alright, alright. Now just hold on a minute."

A confident grin plastered to his face, Turk gestured to the small crowd of gangsters in front of him, though none seemed particularly swayed by his showmanship. The rest of the room- a small underground casino- was filled to the brim with criminals and ne'er-do-wells that were already armed with weapons that looked just as impressive as anything Turk had to offer.

"Fact of the matter is this," said Turk, patting his hand on the counter beside the stack of guns. "Anyone with half a brain is gonna show up armed to 'protect' themselves. Push comes to shove, you need something that can take care of business quick. Reliably."

One of the men leaned over the counter, examining the merchandise. "Yeah, well you aren't exactly known for being reliable, Turk."

"Hey, hey, c'mon, now! Just because some guys who can't shoot try and blame it on their guns doesn't mean there's anything wrong with the merchandise." He placed a hand to his chest, raising the other in the air. "You pack one of these in any confrontation, and I swear on my life, there isn't a man alive that could even dream of walking away. Scout's honor."

KOOM

As if on cue, the heavy metal door near the counter swung open with a single blow, almost flying off the hinges. Without a moment of hesitation, one of the gangsters grabbed a machine gun from the pile on the counter, and Turk tossed him a magazine to load it.

The intruder marched through the doorway without even flinching as the gangster unloaded the entire clip onto his chest.

A torrent of bullets ricocheted off of him, and he closed his eyes with a small wince as holes popped open in the front of his hoodie. As the gunfire subsided, Luke brushed off his chest with a stoic frown, taking a step forward as the others backed away, leaving Turk in the center.

The gangster lowered the machine gun and shot a skeptical look at Turk, who shrugged helplessly. "Oh, c'mon, man, he doesn't count."

Flashing a tiny, smug smile, Luke ran a hand over the counter, scraping the remaining guns onto the floor. Turk took a step back into the crowd with his hands up, and everyone else scattered to leave him by himself.

"Well, uh…" Turk cleared his throat, lowering his hands into his pockets. "Welcome back, big man. What you doing in Hell's Kitchen?"

Luke crossed his arms. "I could ask you the same question."

"I guess you ain't here for the blackjack- ah! Alright, alright!"

A hand gripped Turk's collar, and he pulled his hands out of his pockets, tensing up.

"Let's chat," said Luke.

Nobody rushed to Turk's rescue as Luke dragged him into the nearest broom closet, shoving him up against the wall.

Turk rolled his eyes. "You got a funny sense of timing, Cage."

"I want information, Turk. You don't feel like talking, there's a dumpster with your name on it."

"Alright, alright! Message received, loud and clear." Turk straightened his coat, throwing up his hands a little. "I had to burn my clothes last time we did this, man. We don't have to go through all that again. I am all ears, okay?"

Luke narrowed his eyes. "I picked up a name. Guy running some kind of operation in Hell's Kitchen. 'Hogman'. You wanna help me out?"

"Yeah, yeah. Hogman. I know him. We've done business, personally. But trust me, he ain't running shit. His operation got swallowed up a long time ago by bigger fish."

"Bigger fish?"

"That's right. Gun runner from out of town. Originally a small operation. Thomas Stuart. Classic mobster type. Originally just a small operation, but… more and more gun traffic has been going through him lately. Trust me, I'm no fan of his."

"Alright. So Stuart recruited Hogman."

"Not just him, either. Lot of other smaller dealers." He glanced over his shoulder. "And you know what I've heard? There's a new guy at the top that put Stuart where he is. Nobody knows his name. Only the guys at the very top of the food chain ever even get to see him. But he's working up some kinda monopoly." He tugged at his collar. "Starting to look like Fisk all over again. Dangerous shit."

"So how do I get to him?"

"Shit, Cage. You are just begging for trouble."

"I'm not the only one."

Luke grimaced threateningly, lumbering forward.

"Wait! Wait! Let me finish!" Turk pressed his back into the wall, throwing his hands up. "I can help you! I can. Listen. I ain't heard much. But word has been getting around fast. Apparently there's some new vigilante that's got them scrambling. Some kid in a hoodie, on some Bruce Lee shit. Like Daredevil-lite, you know?"

"How does that help me?"

"Well, they've been having such a hard time getting small operations off the ground lately, word is they're having a meeting to address it. Even the big man on top is supposed to be there. At a storage facility near the warehouse at Pier 81. Going down tomorrow night." He took a breath. "…Like I said, you got a funny sense of timing."

Luke hesitated for a moment. "If it's such a big deal, how come you know about it?"

"I don't know! Everybody has been talkin' about it. Maybe they're just getting cocky. But that's what the word is." Turk took a deep breath, straightening himself out. "Look, man. Look. Things are getting dangerous around here. Competition is getting thinner every day. Way I see it, you go down there, rough some people up, knock some heads, you will be doing me a favor. So believe me when I say, I am telling you everything that I know. Alright? Everything." Turk looked at the floor, making his best puppy dog eyes. "So are we good?"

"Almost." Luke looked back through the open door. "Still got to deal with those guns you're peddling."

They exchanged a glance.

Turk lowered his head. "Ahh… shit."

The moon hung high in the sky over Hell's Kitchen the following evening.

All alone, a man in Kevlar stalked down an alley outside an old building, clutching an assault rifle with both hands.

Black hood pulled up over his curly hair, Danny Rand watched the man from a safe distance, clenching his fists under over-long sleeves. Like a predator, he watched in silence for some time, planning the best method of attack.

But the silence didn't remain for long. As the guard turned his back to pace in the other direction, a kick drove him to his knees, and Danny's arm wrapped around his neck. Keeping the man in a choke hold, Danny struck his wrist with an open palm, disarming him of his rifle. Steadying himself, Danny clutched his hands together, securing the chokehold.

"You're not the one I want," Danny hissed, keeping his voice down. "A lot of people are meeting here tonight. I'm here for your leader."

The guard gripped Danny's arm with both hands, face contorted. "You… I know you. You're him. The one that's been sabotaging our business."

"Your leader. The Purple Man. I know he's at this facility tonight." Danny tightened his grip, and the guard's face turned red as he struggled to breathe. "Tell me where to go."

"Gck… go… go to hell…"

With a pained grunt, the guard thrust his body backward, slamming Danny against the wall and rolling forward to get to his feet. Tactically drawing a pistol from a kneeling position, he fired straight at Danny, who only narrowly managed to slip out of the way.

Grimacing, Danny thrust his leg out into a crescent kick, knocking the gun out of the man's hand and sending it clattering out of reach.

"Shit!" The guard pressed a hand into the concrete as he stumbled back onto the ground.

A moment later, an ax kick slammed his head into the ground, taking him out. Danny straightened his hoodie with a frown, hurrying to the nearest door inside and fiddling with the doorknob to make his way through.

A stampede of footsteps greeted him as he entered, the gunfire outside having apparently attracted the nearby guards- three by Danny's count. He grimaced as they charged toward the door, ducking behind the nearest crate as gunfire rang out from the other end of the hall. Wood splinters flew past his face as bullets ripped through his cover, the guards closing the distance uncomfortably fast.

Listening close for footsteps to gauge their distance, Danny leapt out from his cover at the last possible second, deflecting a machine gun with a palm strike and following it up with a leopard blow.

The guard in front collapsed on the ground in front of his two compatriots, both of whom raised their guns to Danny after a second to collect themselves.

He gave the slightest smile- their movements were almost too easy to read.

Dropping to a duck to get out of the guns' line of sight, Danny downed the second guard with a single kick to the knee, following it up with a powerful ax kick to the chest. The remaining guard stumbled backward with fear as Danny leapt forward and slammed him against the crates, swatting the gun out of his hands.

"We both know why I'm here. Looking for your leader."

With one punch to the stomach, the guard slumped down to the floor at Danny's feet, groaning with pain. "Ugh… like I'd tell you sh-ulp-"

Unflinching, Danny pressed his foot into the man's throat, hardly giving enough air to speak. "Talk. While you still can."

"Gck- oh- okay…!" Choking as Danny lowered his foot, the man shut his eyes with a pained expression. "Down the hall… make two rights… four doors down…"

"Good."

A kick to the face knocked the last guard unconscious, and Danny sprinted off down the hall on his instruction.

It was finally time, after months of searching… the one he'd been looking for. The man responsible for everything. Danny felt more determined than he had in ages, rekindling some extinguished sense of purpose…

But as Danny swung open the door two hallways down, he didn't find the man responsible at the other end of the room- and his expression turned to frustration almost immediately.

The guard's instructions had led him into some kind of conference room, with a long table that stretched all the way across the room. As Danny entered, he found himself at the far end, with another man in grey clothes positioned across from him.

The Purple Man was nowhere to be seen.

"Ahem. 'Bout time you showed up." The man at the other end of the table clasped his hands together and laid them down on the table in front of him, staring down at Danny with a smug expression.

"You're not…" Danny trailed off. "I know you… you're Stuart. Where is your boss? The P-"

Before he could finish, a blow from behind sent him stumbling into the table in front of him. At the same time, several men swarmed into the room on either side of Stuart, aiming machine guns down the table at Danny.

He glanced over his shoulder at the one who attacked him- a man in a dark red devil suit. Danny shook his head, disoriented.

"You- you set me up…!" Danny exclaimed, straightening himself out and shooting a venomous glare at Stuart.

"Wow, he catches on quick," chuckled Stuart.

"You've been targeting us," said the devil-suited man from behind Danny, his voice gravelly. "Who sent you?"

After a quick scowl over his shoulder, Danny stared fiercely at Stuart, both fists clenched at his sides. "I'm not telling you anything. I want your boss."

The security surrounding Stuart kept their guns fixed firmly on Danny.

"He's an idiot. An idiot! A complete amateur." Stuart stared at Danny with disbelief, scoffing. "You have no leverage in this situation, kid. You're completely outgunned."

"That's what you think." Danny looked down at his right fist, which slowly started to glow.

"Jesus- what is that voice? Is he trying to sound cool? Fuck's sake."

"Let me make this simple," said the devil-suited man, leaning in close behind Danny. "This is the difference between a quick death and an unbearably painful one. Just tell us who you're working f-"

The devil-suited man cut himself off, tilting his head upward suddenly at a noise. Across the table, the guard nearest to Stuart raised a walkie-talkie to his ear, surprised. Stuart and a few other guards turned to glance at him.

"What is it? What's the matter?" demanded Stuart.

"It's, uh." The guard shrugged. "Some kind of disturbance downstairs. Some guards got taken out."

The glow faded from Danny's fist as he realized his sudden opportunity. Without hesitating, Danny thrust an elbow behind him, striking the devil-suited man in the chest, before turning to grab him and flip him over his shoulder. As the man slammed onto the table, Danny dropped below, narrowly slipping out of the way of machine gun fire as the guards at the other end of the table realized his plan.

"Oh, shit!" Stuart reached into his jacket, pulling out an unusual-looking gun and jabbing it in Danny's direction.

Keeping his head low, Danny approached the door behind him, slipping around the gunfire recoiling from the wall. With his tongue in his cheek, Stuart kept his own gun raised and narrowed his eyes, tapping rapidly on the trigger.

Long steel flechettes shot in a straight line from the barrel of Stuart's gun, a few of them sticking in the door before the others found their target.

"Agh!" A searing pain shot through Danny's arm and torso as he stumbled through the doorway and out into the hall, pressing his back against the wall.

Finally in cover, he raised his left hand to his opposite shoulder, feeling out his fresh wound. Two flechettes had embedded themselves in his shoulder, leaking blood onto his shirt and hoodie. A third had grazed the side of his arm, tearing open the skin.

Danny looked at his own hand, stained with blood. His arm felt like it was on fire, and his breathing turned frantic as he heard the guards rushing to the door behind him.

Taking one deep breath, Danny darted off down the hall and turned a corner, blood dripping down his arm and trailing on the floor behind him. Gunfire rang out from somewhere at the other end of the hall- but not from any of the guards chasing him-?

Danny's train of thought was interrupted by a blow to the chest as he turned another corner- and as he stumbled back into the wall behind him, the man in the devil suit emerged from the other side, fists clenched.

Danny raised both fists, wincing from his injuries. "Who are you?"

The devil-suited man tilted his head but said nothing, hesitating only for a second before charging.

Danny deflected a quick punch before getting tagged by a second, his back slamming into the wall from the force. A knee to the stomach quickly followed up the strike, bringing Danny to his knees on the floor.

Blood pooled on the floor underneath him as Danny pressed his palms into the floor, struggling to stand. The man in the devil suit loomed over him, a fist raised.

He prepared to strike again-

chok

-but just as he did, his attack was intercepted, and he went flying in the opposite direction of the hall, collapsing in a pile on the floor.

Danny knelt and picked up his head to look at the new man looming over him- dressed up in a hoodie riddled with holes.

The man in the hoodie outstretched his hand, and Danny took it, struggling to stand.

"Who- who…?"

"Luke." The man gave the tiniest, sympathetic smile. "Something tells me we're on the same side."

"I… they said there was disturbance. You busted in here by yourself? Are those… bullet holes?"

"Don't worry. I'll be just fine." Luke looked over Danny with a frown, raising an eyebrow. "Probably can't say the same for you…"

"I'll be okay. I just need to- to take a minute…"

"I don't think we have one." Luke perked up at the sound of stampeding guards, apparently closing in on the hall from outside. "Give me one second."

With a breath, Luke brushed past Danny and threw a punch straight at the wall. Danny's eyes went wide as the man's fist went straight through, punching a hole cleanly in solid brick. Luke body-slammed through first to widen the hole enough for Danny to step through, and the two of them escaped into an adjacent storage room.

"Wow, you're… strong," said Danny, mouth agape.

Luke chuckled, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks."

With both hands, he grabbed hold of a couple of massive metal cabinets in the corner of the room, sliding one across the ground to block the hole in the wall and the other to block the door. As he did, Danny ripped the sleeve from his hoodie, wrapping it around the wound in his forearm to stop some of the bleeding.

The two of them took a moment to breathe, crowds of armed guards scurrying around in the hallway just outside.

His face stern, Luke turned toward Danny, crossing his arms. "I've heard about you. You're the one that's been messing with Stuart's operation. What's your deal?"

"Uh. I'm, uh. Danny." He shook his head, flustered. "I guess I don't have time to give you the full story. I just… I want something that was taken from me. So I'm taking it to the guy at the top."

"You talking about Stuart's boss?"

"That's right. The 'Purple Man'." Danny jumped as one of the cabinets shook. "He's dangerous… I don't know if I can really explain it, but… he's got some kind of power I've never seen before… makes people do whatever he wants. I don't know his name, but he's in charge of everything."

His fears finally confirmed, Luke sighed, earning a confused glare from Danny. "His name is Kilgrave. I thought- I mean, I knew…" He scratched his chin. "Look. He's the reason I'm here, too."

"Well, you're out of luck. This guy- uh, Kilgrave- he was never here. It was a setup; they just wanted to lure me here to catch me off-guard." Danny poked the flechettes in his shoulder with a pained wince. "Agh… and it worked, too… I was too careless…"

"You're not the only one." Luke watched the rattling cabinets with concern as the guards tried to force their way inside. "I led them here. I don't like those numbers, or that firepower…" He glanced over his shoulder at the exterior wall. "We could get outside if we got through here. I might be able to bust us out, but these exterior walls are way thicker… it won't be easy to do it in time." Approaching the wall with an outstretched hand, he pressed his palm into it, gauging the strength of the structure. "But I don't think you're in any condition to fight, are you? We might not have a choice…"

"Maybe not." Danny took a deep breath, approaching the wall and standing next to Luke. "But…"

Danny's fingertips trembled, and he kept his eyes shut tight. The stabbing pain in his arm was relentless- and it centered him, letting him find focus.

Luke gawked at him, taking a step back. "Uh… what are you doing?"

"I'm centering my chi."

"…What?"

"Shh."

Danny's hand closed into a fist. Blood trailed down his arm, and a surge of energy followed it, flowing out from the center of the body and collecting itself all in one place.

His fist turned gold, and Luke took a step back to watch from a distance, bewildered.

Danny opened his eyes, his face contorted into a focused scowl. With one final breath, he raised his fist and slammed it directly into the wall, which burst open in a single, massive blast of brick and mortar.

Dust settled on Luke's face, but he was too distracted to brush it off, his wide eyes fixed on Danny. "What… in the hell…?"

The makeshift barricades rattled again as the guards struggled to burst through. Not waiting up for them, Luke and Danny hurried through the brand new hole in the wall, making their way into the alley side-by-side.

"Don't worry," mumbled Danny. "I can explain everything. We just need to get somewhere safe…"

Luke leaned to the side, eyeing up the still-fresh wounds in Danny's shoulder. "Don't worry about that. I think I've got a place."

On a bench in the heart of Central Park sat Alexandra Reid, draped in a long white overcoat and tossing out bird seed with black gloved hands.

Stepping out from a small crowd of passerby, an elderly woman approached the bench, slumping into the seat beside her elegant companion. With a subdued frown, Madame Gao allowed herself to sit in silence for a few moments, and Alexandra took the opportunity to study her face.

"That is a face I know only too well," Alexandra declared with something resembling concern.

Gao drove her cane into the sidewalk. "Hm."

"What do you have to report? How are our preparations coming along?"

"Preparations have progressed smoothly. And I would not expect to encounter any major roadblocks before moving to the final phase. At least… as long as we continue at our original pace."

Alexandra nodded slowly. "Then what is the problem?"

They exchanged a glance.

"This is…" Gao said slowly, rapping her fingers along the top of her cane, "…assuming that we do continue at our original pace…"

Alexandra narrowed her eyes at that. "…How long do you expect before we are ready?"

"Three months." Gao took a quiet breath.

"So you anticipated my concerns. That I would want to speed the process."

"Such a decision… it would be rash to rush things along now, after the great lengths we have gone to not to draw attention."

"I am aware of the attention it would draw. It is a necessary risk."

"But there are factors at play you are not aware of. I understand that you are eager to proceed with the plan. However…" Gao wrung her hands around the end of her cane, considering. "…There have been unforeseen complications within my business in New York. It would be unwise to proceed too hastily without having our affairs in order."

Alexandra furrowed her brow, setting aside the bird seed and turning her head to look down at the smaller woman. "Harold Meachum has never been anything more than a minor concern. Surely you don't mean to suggest his cooperation is an issue you cannot resolve without having to divert resources from the rest of us."

"Meachum is not the problem."

"Then what is?"

Gao pursed her lips. "There has been an outside party targeting the distributors of my product. A vigilante. Not the devil of Hell's Kitchen- someone new. With profound abilities."

"Gao, I don't need the minutiae of your business. You are concerned about one lone agent? How does this affect our plans?"

"It is perhaps more pressing than you may think," Gao said slowly. "I have good reason to believe that this vigilante is the Iron Fist."

"What? Impossible. The Iron Fist guards K'un-Lun," scoffed Alexandra.

"And this is why no Iron Fist has ever challenged us before?" Gao raised an eyebrow, shuffling in her seat. "It is possible that he left his post at the request of the elders of K'un-Lun… particularly if they are somehow aware of our activities. And if this is the case, it would be unwise to so dramatically signal our presence."

"…If the Iron Fist has sought us out, then so be it. The Chaste has their weapon. We have ours."

"And you believe she is ready for such an undertaking?"

"She's ready." Alexandra steeled herself. "I've made certain of that."

Gao nodded once, eyes closed. "Well… certain as you may be, I believe I have a more… practical solution at hand. One that may not force us to risk losing the Black Sky preemptively." She met Alexandra's skeptical glance with a frown. "It is possible that we would need her in one piece, after all, if we are ever to attempt to return to K'un-Lun."

Displeased, but curious, Alexandra settled into her seat, contemplating a fitting response. "You truly believe you have a solution more practical than the Black Sky?"

"I only ask for a little more time, to make the proper preparations. A week- or two at most." Gao tightened her grip on her cane. "Then we can speed up our plans, as you wish, without the risk of the Iron Fist's interference. And without having to put the Black Sky at risk."

"She is a greater asset than you think," Alexandra said firmly, "but I can accommodate at least that much time. But Gao." She gave a dark, unyielding frown. "I expect this to be handled. Completely."

Slightly off-put, Gao gave a single nod. "It shall be handled. These… obstacles." Gao hesitated for a moment. "They will be removed. That much… I can assure you."