The sun was high over the secret island headquarters of the League of Shadows. In the heart of the compound, the practice area buzzed with the sound of steel meeting steel as a group of recruits underwent rigorous training. Their forms flowed and clashed, each movement a testament to the lethal skill they sought to master.
Amidst the flurry of activity, a figure stood like a specter at the edge of the training ground, her piercing gaze cutting across the view. Lady Shiva, the League's enforcer and top warrior, watched over the recruits with unwavering intensity, her presence striking fear and respect into the hearts of those under her watchful eye.
Dressed in a sleek, form-fitting red and black costume that accentuated her lithe, deadly grace, Shiva exuded an aura of formidable power. Her neck-length black hair flowed gently in the breeze. Every line of her body spoke of discipline and mastery, and her eyes held a glint of cold determination. Those eyes swept over the recruits as they trained, assessing their every stance, strike and breath. She was a master of combat, a living weapon honed to deadly perfection, and she demanded nothing less than absolute dedication from those who sought to follow in her formidable footsteps.
Abruptly, one of the shadows appeared before her, bowing to one knee. "Pardon me, Lady Shiva. We have a situation."
Shiva turned smoothly to face the ninja and gazed down, acknowledging the shadow knelt before her. "Speak, then. And be brief." Her voice was like poisoned silk; soft and husky but with a near-constant dangerous edge.
The shadow nodded curtly. "An intruder has entered the base."
Shiva's gaze darkened. "An intruder?" Her voice lowered in pitch. "How in all the hells was this person even allowed to enter?"
The masked ninja tensed, both afraid for his safety, and apparently taken at the strangeness of his next report. "We're not completely sure, my lady. It seems he defeated the guards and… simply came in through the front gate."
"The front gate..?" Shiva's eyes narrowed threateningly, her dark brows bunching. "Did the guards even attempt to stop him?"
"Of course, my lady," the shadow answered. "He proved… very formidable."
The slightest bit of annoyance entered Shiva's tone. "Where is he now?"
"Still at the front courtyard," the shadow said. "He asked for you specifically."
Shiva narrowed her eyes again, the slightest bit of anger beginning to rise. Asked for her? "Unacceptable. I'll deal with this personally."
The shadow gulped and nodded slightly. "He had a very specific message: 'The Immortal Iron Fist respectfully requests a moment of your time.'"
Shiva remained stoic for a moment, then her head gave a subtle tilt. She was surprised. The Immortal Iron Fist? Champion and protector K'un Lun? This was a rather strange development.
"Or…" the shadow cleared his throat in tension, repeating verbatim, "'If that is too pretentious, simply Danny Rand requests a moment of your time.'"
Shiva's eyebrow lifted. Either way, it was quite unexpected. Her gaze darkened as she nodded her head again. "Take me to him. Now."
The shadow did as he was bid.
Silence ruled the main courtyard. Even as more and more ninja gathered on the rooftops and perimeter ledges, not a sound was heard. Their gazes of heated uncertainty were fixed several yards in from the main gate, their focus fixed on the splash of black and yellow blasphemy seated on the stone floor.
To the right of a short table, on which sat a kettle, a tea box, and two porcelain cups, cross-legged and meditating, sat Danny Rand
He was in full Iron Fist uniform. He had his eyes closed, communing with himself. Even with the adept stealth training afforded to the ninja assassins, he could sense their apprehension and hostility. He could hear their steps and shuffling as they scouted out their uninvited guest; but paid them no mind. He wasn't here for them.
And then he heard the soft clicking of shoes on the floor by the perimeter—Lady Shiva approached.
Shiva's mind was swirling with all sorts of different thoughts and feelings, not the least of which was a sense of… curiosity. Iron Fist, the famous martial arts master? Why had he come to seek her out? Was he a threat? A potential student, perhaps? The latter was highly unlikely. A part of her was almost offended by the American's boldness. But still, her interest had been peaked. After a moment or two, Shiva finally drew closer, her footsteps rapping softly on the stone as she strode alone toward him.
Iron Fist opened his eyes when Shiva came within twenty feet. Four more steps and he stood smoothly to his feet.
When she came within five paces, Shiva stopped. She held her hands behind her back, her piercing dark eyes measuring the man.
"Lady Shiva." He gave a short bow of his head, his tone and demeanor were eminently respectful. "I'm grateful you could come."
Shiva remained silent, but her eyebrows rose by a few degrees. Surprise, maybe? She studied the young man with a cold, unwavering glare as Iron Fist lifted his head, waiting for him to speak.
With his left hand, Danny gestured lightly to the table set up next to them. "Might you sit?" He made no move before she would, showing the woman proper deference.
Shiva paused for a pair of heartbeats, and then nodded ever so slightly. She walked to the table, and sat down on the stone floor, never once changing expression or breaking eye contact.
Danny followed suit, the tails of his mask flowing in the wind as he sat down across from her. Shiva's hands rested on her knees, and she watched him like a hawk. She seemed neutral, but Danny could sense her muscles were primed and ready. It was like sitting across from a viper, coiled and ready to strike at the faintest hint of trouble.
Sorting out two tea bags from their small container, he set them into both their cups. "I imagined you'd assume anything not prepared in your presence would be poisoned," he said as he picked up the kettle. The calm in his voice gave little indication of the fact his heart rate had gone up a few beats.
Shiva watched as he made the tea. It seemed as though the American man was very careful in his approach to her. This was not what she had been expecting. "A wise assumption," she said at last.
A few more moments passed in silence as he prepped and poured the two cups, starting with hers. "Pu-erh," he said, gesturing with the cup he held. "I hope you can appreciate it. I had to call in a favor to find out the part of Wuhan where you were born." A small smile touched his face, finally mentioning their mutual acquaintance as a way to break the ice. "The Dark Knight sends his regards."
Shiva's serious expression twitched ever so slightly at him mentioning her birthplace and Batman. Her features eased, becoming a touch more relaxed, some of the coldness fading. An almost-smile twitched the corners of her mouth. "This is a pleasant surprise, Iron Fist." There was a twinkle of interest resting behind her eyes as she regarded the masked warrior, her eyes seeming to peer through to his soul.
"Ah, you're pleased." Danny gave a small smile of his own. "My first victory today." He took a sip of his own cup, hoping it would assure her that it was safe to drink.
The slightest bit of amusement passed through Shiva's mind, though it stayed locked behind her stony face. While his purpose remained unclear, this young man was certainly… interesting. Watching him for another moment, Shiva raised her teacup, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. For a few seconds, her eyes appeared to fill with distant memory.
Then she came back from the past, her stoic mask firmly in place again. "It is acceptable." Shiva's eyes ran Iron Fist over, scanning the younger man as if analyzing every movement he made for potential weakness or threat. "But this isn't a visit for mere pleasantries." Her dark eyes narrowed. "Why have you sought me out?"
"I seek only a conversation," Danny said. Then another small smile graced his lips. "The kind spoken through fists."
A moment of silence passed as Shiva regarded the man opposite her. He had come halfway across the world to the home base of the League of Shadows to challenge her? This day was becoming more surprising by the moment.
"A duel." Shiva's expression remained unchanged but there was an undercurrent of amusement running through her. "And yet I sit here drinking tea? How… intriguing."
"I recall an old British saying that when you intend to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite." Iron Fist replied with a smile, taking another sip. "My intentions aren't so drastic, but I'd like to think the sentiment still fits."
The other members of the League were awed. The absolute gall of this foreigner! But some were also very suspicious. Or why their top enforcer was even entertaining this person and his proposal. Some of them were even tempted to swoop in and end his life right then and there.
On the balcony edge in the distance stood Ra's' daughter Talia. She was as astounded as the other members were, though she hid it better than the other grunts.
Shiva blinked, her lips curling into a very small smile. She had to admit, he was quite the character. "And you think you can defeat me?"
"I don't know," Danny said plainly, taking another sip. "Everyone I come across says you're the best fighter on the planet." His eyes flicked back to her. "Even surpassing your boss, according to Batman."
Shiva's eyebrow lifted at that, though she kept her mask in place. Was that admiration she heard in his voice? "And what do you hope to gain from challenging me, then?"
"A clear view of where my current skill level is. Of how much further I have to go. And if I'm lucky, to learn a thing or two along the way." The corner of his lip twitched upward. "'Iron sharpens iron,' as the saying goes. If you'll excuse the pun."
The unfiltered, genuine tone in his words almost made Shiva laugh. So this young man sought to make himself a better warrior by challenging others at or above his level. The American appeared to take self-improvement to a drastic, even ridiculous degree.
The watching League members, Talia included, were staring with their mouths open in astonishment. This American had journeyed to the hidden headquarters of the League of Assassins, waltzed in the front door, and was asking their greatest warrior and the deadliest hand-to-hand fighter in the world to fight him… for a mere challenge, and nothing more. There was confidence, arrogance, and insanity. And this stranger had blown past all three several hundred miles ago. Did he know who he was dealing with here? Was he aware of just how skilled and lethal Shiva was? Was he mad?
Shiva remained silent for longer than usual, regarding Iron Fist with renewed consideration. He wanted to be better, but he wasn't actually thinking of victory. The young man wanted to find his weaknesses and improve himself. It was minuscule, but a small sense of respect for the man began to rise in Shiva. It was a battle-focused purity she'd rarely seen. Perhaps his intentions were more honest than she'd first imagined.
"And what makes you think I'm in the habit of accepting duels?" Shiva asked at last.
"Aren't you?" There was amusement in Danny's voice now, an eyebrow raising beneath his mask. "Doesn't your infamy come from your hobby of… mmm, how did Batgirl put it? 'Hunting down the best fighters in the world and beating them to death with your bare hands'?"
Shiva's dark brown eyes narrowed slightly in amusement; a faint smirk crept across her lips. Danny Rand had done his homework. The more he spoke, the more she realized this wasn't just a foolhardy request. She set her empty cup down. "The 'best fighters in the world' do not seek me out often, as most are cowards. But some fools do, and they are… disposed of."
"Then I suppose we'll find out which type I am," Danny said, some self-effacing humor leaning in. He placed his own finished cup down and inclined his head once more. "If you deem this audacious foreigner worthy of that honor?"
Shiva let a tiny sigh escape her. Despite her stoic façade, she had to admit she was enjoying Iron Fist's company. She also couldn't help but respect the temerity of the young American to walk into her home and request to duel her. "Very well then," she said. "I will humor. For your courage, if nothing else. But be warned, I will not hold back. Are you ready?"
Iron Fist's smile broadened, and there was a flicker of fiery determination in his eyes. But his words maintained their politeness. "You are a gracious host."
Abruptly, his eyes popped wide and emotion swept off his face. He moved suddenly, his right hand instantly glowing and his masked face snapping to the right. Moving like lightning, his gold-glowing hand sprang up to catch the sniper bullet that would have put a hole in his head. It had come from so far away that there wasn't even a sound, presumably fire by one trace League agent overlooking the scene.
From her vantage point, Talia Al Ghul clicked her tongue. The shot she'd ordered had failed.
Danny looked back at Shiva with a flat expression and raised an eyebrow. His face seemed to ask, "Was that really necessary?"
Shiva's eyes narrowed. So that was the fabled Iron Fist of Shou Lao. Its power was impressive indeed to stop a bullet. And for him to have sensed and responded in time for such a shot, the reaction speed required… "Good reflexes," she complimented, her face returning to its calm demeanor. She lifted a hand to order all of the hiding shadows to stand down. "You needn't worry. There will be no further interruptions."
Danny took a short breath before replying. "Thank you."
He only stood after Shiva did, and they proceeded a short ways off to the center of the courtyard. Danny followed behind her and then stopped at one dividing line, waiting for her to take the appropriate distance.
Walking until she reached the proper spot, Shiva turned to face him. Her demeanor showed no signs of fear or anticipation; she was as cool and calm as always.
The pair exchanged a short bow. The martial artists' courtesy.
Danny inhaled, feeling his breath spread to his every part, every cell, then slowly loosed it as he slid into a stance. He held one hand out at a forty-five-degree angle, fingers open and hooked like claws, the other in a fist that rested right over his solar plexus.
He had good form, Shiva noted. Perfect, even. One that emphasized looseness over rigidity.
The other assassins watched, their breath all held in anticipation as the duel was about to commence. The air was utterly still. Would this man prove to be a challenge? Or just become yet another victim of Lady Shiva's superior combat prowess?
And then in a flash, Iron Fist attacked. He closed the distance between them with impressive speed, two pointed fingers of his left hand reaching for her throat. Shiva parried his attack, barely shifting her weight as she did so and counterattacking, a knife-hand thrust driving towards his midsection. A forearm sweep from Iron Fist knocked her hand away. He swept a low kick for her forward knee; Shiva's foot blocked his shin and flashed for the man's face in virtually the same quick motion. His fist came up to block it, but the surprising force staggered him back a step.
Shiva came in fast again, a kick whirling for Iron Fist's head. Iron Fist ducked, feinted a straight-on punch for her stomach, then flicked it upwards into a palm strike driving at her chin. But the assassin anticipated it, slapping the follow-up strike aside. With one hand she aimed a quick, deceptively strong back-fisted knuckle shot at the Iron Fist's solar plexus, then made her other hand into a knife that drove straight for his throat.
Danny made a fist of his own to block the first strike. His eyes widened suddenly, sensing the danger of the second. With thoughtless speed he glided backwards away from Shiva, his shoes scraping along the ground as he got out of range. Her fingers had been close enough for him to feel the wind off her blow. It was enough for him to not immediately press the attack, simply raising his hand to rub his throat. An inch, maybe two, was all she'd missed by; but she had missed.
A few exchanges with Lady Shiva, and he was still alive and untouched.
Talia's heart was pounding in her chest. She could tell from watching that Lady Shiva's earlier words were true. She wasn't holding back. That was the same kind of killing stroke she'd seen warriors, assassins and even members of her own inner circle fall to. Yet the American was still alive… for now.
Shiva let out a faint, silent breath. She did not look satisfied. If anything, the assassin looked annoyed for having missed by such a small amount. Her knife hand returned to a proper fist, and she wasted no time pressing the attack again, sweeping her leg for a low kick. Not just to knock him down, but to break the ankle.
Danny lifted that leg over the sweep and lashed it out for a sidekick to the ribs in the same motion. When she unsurprisingly blocked and countered, he had to duck low for the punch that might have jammed a disc in his neck out of place. He twisted as he stepped backwards, parrying a few more viciously accurate punches and finger blows.
'This one is good,' Shiva thought to herself, watching his maneuvers with the trained eye of an expert. He was swift and skilled, that much was obvious. But she could feel the tension through his entire body, the pressure and fear of fighting her beginning to build.
Shiva launched a combination of vicious, lightning-fast blows at the younger man, testing his defenses and reactions. Her attacks were relentless, fast, and lethal. Each one was a sharp edge, ready to cut into the Iron Fist, who was clearly on the defensive at this point. The assassin kept him moving, never letting him stay in one place too long or get his wits or composure. His defenses would have to be perfect from here on out to stay untouched.
Danny could feel the lethal intention behind the woman's attacks. She was fast as she was relentless, her form a blur at times with the speed at which she attacked. The assassin aimed for his vitals and his pressure points, but wasn't afraid to go for his face or joints either.
One mistake and he'd regret it.
In response to her onslaught, Danny loosened his stance and gave ground. His arms, palms, and fists skillfully deflected almost every attack, leaning this way and that to dodge those he didn't. He defended fluidly, doing all he could to keep right on the edge of her reach. He swept away a claw-like blow for his face and ducked into a reverse ankle sweep, aiming to trip his opponent up. Shiva stepped over it, driving an elbow at his face in retaliation. He leaned back around it and his knuckles caught the nerve bundle right below the elbow; not much, but enough for a brief numbing. When a two-hit ended with a trip that put his back to the ground, he caught himself and kipped right back up. Where Lady Shiva was fierce and unrelenting, he was formless and shapeless.
He jumped and twisted, and was rewarded when Shiva moved her tingling arm a fraction of a second too slow. His tornado kick smacked clean across the face, sending her backwards. Danny landed on his guard, holding his ground in a defensive posture as she twisted back into a ready stance.
He had scored the first real blow.
Shiva froze for a split second, her expression still as death. And then she smiled—it spoke volumes. This duel was turning out to be far more interesting than she'd thought.
Danny smiled too, shaking out his left hand. A couple of those blocked strikes still stung quite a bit.
Their audience was stunned. Shiva was an assassin's assassin. The best of the best. And not only had this American survived the first exchange, he was keeping up with her. He'd even managed to land the first blow. Who was this man? The suspense was palpable to the onlookers. Many now doubted their earlier assumptions about this Iron Fist's skill. Maybe he wasn't just another arrogant fool.
Talia herself, who'd been watching the League's enforcer with a mixture of awe and anxiety, now felt something resembling admiration. Even if she'd never admit it out loud.
Then Iron Fist darted back in for the attack. He came in fast and hard, dancing around her with fists and chops, and Shiva found her own defenses tested. The assassin reacted swiftly and efficiently, blocking, dodging, parrying, attacking, countering. The American was very good. He had excellent instincts, superior reflexes, and a strong understanding of his limits. But would it be enough? Shiva watched for a slip-up; one slight gap that she could leap into to bring her opponent down.
Iron Fist's palms and forearm blocked most of her counterstrikes. One eye-blink-quick slash of her fingers took some strands out of his hair, but he felt no pain.
Shiva's eyes gleamed with amusement as the duel continued. Each of her strikes was a precise flash of motion, her steps light and agile as she moved in and out, back and forth. The two warriors flowed in an almost mesmerizing rhythm. The American dragon jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the kick that would have crippled his knee. Shiva circled him, then shot forward, a pair of punches followed by a rising knee strike. Iron Fist blocked the three attacks, but not the kick that cracked him over the head and sent him down. He rolled with the impact and spun back to guard, his forearm just barely blocking her next sudden punch, and the warriors found themselves at a standstill. Their limbs shook from the exerted force in the sudden battle of strength.
And as Shiva looked straight into his masked face, Iron Fist wasn't just smiling—he was openly grinning, deep in the throes of battle lust.
Shiva's lips twitched up into a small smirk of her own, the expression of a predator beginning to feel the thrill of the hunt. This young man was a warrior, and his grin was that of one who had found an equal opponent. The assassin was not accustomed to being pushed like this. She was starting to enjoy herself as well.
"I almost regret not being born ten years earlier," Iron Fist said through his excited smile. "If not for that or your murderous tendencies, you might just be my perfect woman."
Shiva raised an eyebrow at that, an amused flash in her eyes. Was this man… flirting with her? She had to suppress a hearty laugh. The sheer brazenness of this American. He was talking as if he wasn't fighting for his life. She was far too old for this young man, surely.
And as for her supposed "murderous tendencies," he'd yet to see the full range of her killer instinct. This was still play.
"You're a bold one, Daniel Rand." Shiva shifted her hand to knock his arm away, twisting two more punches for his face and gut simultaneously.
He caught the one aimed for his face; the other connected, driving the air from his lungs, and the follow-up kick smacked him tumbling to the ground. He rolled with the impact, landing in a crouch and springing backwards. He held his arms up as she came in for a new offensive.
Lady Shiva's form was a flash of motion as she moved in and out, around and behind Iron Fist. Her attacks were fast, relentless, and precise. They were intended to cut and tear, to slice and stab, to kill. Each one was made with deadly precision, and they came from all angles, leaving the younger man with very little room to breathe. Iron Fist weaved his hands in a defensive Wing Chun flurry, deflecting all the attacks that came his way.
All except for one. One kick slipped through his guard, scoring a hard shot to his liver. Pain like Danny hadn't felt in quite some time shot through him. Then Shiva's fist cracked his chin, knocking him through a stand of weapons. Somehow he leaned back enough to catch himself on one hand and spring backwards on his feet, but he dropped to one knee in pain.
"Augh…" Dragon's bone, Danny hated liver shots. It was why he rarely executed them on other opponents. He'd be feeling that one for days. Holding his right hand to his side, he gingerly rose and kept his left hand out at a guard as the assassin strode towards him.
As the weapons clattered and rolled on the floor around him, his hand twitched. Sheer reflex told him to grab one; but he held back, keeping his eyes on Shiva. He'd intended this fight to be strictly hand-to-hand and didn't intend to change that unless she wished it. Her house, her rules.
Shiva, noticing the man's hesitation, paused her advance. She appeared to read his thoughts from his sudden twitch. A devilish look crossed the assassin's face. She would allow it. "You may choose one."
Smiling faintly, while trying to ignore his burning liver. Iron Fist turned his head slightly in both directions. He decided on a six-foot-long wooden staff. Using his foot to flip the staff up into his hand, he spun and twirled it once around his body and assumed a stance, holding his weapon ready in both hands.
Shiva paused momentarily in consideration. A thin smile spread over her lips. A staff appeared to suit him. Less immediately lethal, but with reach and defense. So, what to counter him with? She stepped to the right and selected an old favorite: a Chinese Dao. She flourished it once, then lifted it to point towards Iron Fist's face as she retook her stance. On paper, her shorter weapon would put her at a disadvantage. But she enjoyed a challenge.
Then she moved in.
Iron Fist beat her to it before she got within striking range, thrusting one end of the staff out at her legs. When she whirled around it, he slid backwards and jerked it right in the same motion, rattling the wood against her blade's raised guard. Shiva blocked the strike, but it vibrated her arm. She kept her body moving, shunting the wood aside and using the sudden shift in momentum to spin and launch a counter-attack at the American's face and gut.
Danny was continually amazed at her sheer speed. He'd fought some of the most skilled and capable warriors on the planet, metahumans among them. And this supposedly ordinary woman was just as fast as any of them; maybe faster than some. He had to backpedal, shifting and sliding his hands along the grips just to keep his fingers. But he did fend off her strikes. He spun the staff like a tornado, whirling it for four different spots along her legs, side, and neck in quick succession, trying to beat her back. Shiva ducked and weaved with speed to match his own as she deflected his attacks, her sword forming silver fans in the air as it sang, seeking flesh and vein alike.
Spinning backwards, Iron Fist flashed the staff in a loop that Shiva had to duck under, buying himself precious seconds. He left the ground and brought his weapon crashing down at the crown of her head with tremendous force. "Kyaaa!"
Shiva's eyes widened; she quickly rolled away from the blow, which rattled against the stone floor. Despite her momentary loss of ground, she wasted no time in retaliating, spinning around for another attack. She closed the distance with another burst of speed and cross-cut for the man's heart.
Danny's eyes went wide as he slid his hands away, moving to block the cut; they went wider as his staff was cut cleanly in half. Another hard kick slammed into his chest; his back hit the ground and he turned it into a roll, coming up just in time to perceive the flash of red that was the charging Shiva. He hurled one of the pieces like a javelin at her face. Again she slipped around it, buying him just enough time to prepare himself. With a new flurry of speed, he stepped around the flashes of her blade, either dodging them or batting them away with his the piece of the staff he still held, wielding the severed wood like an escrima stick.
Shiva began to grow annoyed that he was avoiding so many of her attacks. This was not like her. She took a one-handed grip on the sword's handle, then stepped in quickly with a sudden punch that accompanied the downward swing of her blade. It was that jab to his wrist that finally knocked the last piece of wood from Iron Fist's hand. Shiva's dark eyes flashed; she took her weapon in both hands and lunged, blade raised for the kill.
In a thoughtless moment of reflex, Danny moved on pure instinct. He sunk lower, brought both his hands together suddenly and caught the blade between his palms with perfect timing. One millimeter of mistake, and he would have died—but he hadn't.
Shiva's eyes widened suddenly. For the first time in the battle, she looked genuinely surprised. This was not normal in the slightest. She found herself staring right at the younger warrior's defiant gaze.
Talia was as bewildered as her subordinates. Iron Fist had stopped Lady Shiva's blade cold… with his bare hands. She had only seen her father, the Demon's Head himself perform such a feat before. And for the foreigner to succeed at the same against Shiva? The American warrior must be something truly extraordinary. Something truly dangerous.
Danny's defiant look turned worried when he felt the blade slipping forward within his gripped palms, millimeter by slow millimeter. Shiva's gaze had hardened again, and she was powering on through. He had to do something.
And so he did. With one quick motion, he jerked his palms to the right and snapped off half of Shiva's blade. In the brief instant she was off balance, he brought his right hand back around and slammed a powerful palm strike underneath her chin that lifted the assassin off her feet. His first solid hit of the entire fight.
Shiva's sword went clattering away; somehow she twisted in midair and landed gracefully, her feet and one hand touching the ground. She was momentarily stunned, trying to get her bearings. Yet her eyes still burned on Iron Fist.
The other assassins were stunned. How was it possible for one such as him to be so capable? Where did his skills come from? How were they so developed and precise? The shadows exchanged looks, trying to make sense of what they were witnessing.
Shiva's dark eyes gleamed with excitement. So this was the champion of K'un Lun. The man they called the Living Weapon. The Iron Fist. She felt a stinging prick on her chin and a sensation of wetness. She looked down to see the small red dot on the ground.
She was bleeding.
How long had it been since she'd seen the color of her own blood?
Shiva's eyes lifted back to Iron Fist's. Her lip curled in a predatory smile as she took a half step forward, her empty hands raising like raptor's claws. She was hungry for this fight now. There was a ferocity in her eyes and a savage look to her stance.
Danny sensed a shift in the air as he held his defensive stance, sliding his own half a step backwards. Things had just changed.
And then Shiva was moving. She didn't bother with the small movements and feints of the fight's beginning. She wanted to feast upon this fight. Shiva came at him quickly, her steps precise and quick as she launched into a series of punches and thrusts at the young dragon. She was relentless, keeping up a steady flow of blows, all aimed at vital points. There was no mercy, no retreat in her stance. She simply attacked him.
Danny's eyes widened. Her speed and ferocity seemed to double out of nowhere. Now it was all he could do just to keep her hands at bay. He gave ground, backing up as quickly as he could. He no longer even attempted to strike back. He felt the stone stairs at his back and retreated up them, using the higher ground for leverage, deflecting madly.
Shiva followed quickly, not giving Iron Fist a moment's respite. She was like a beast, coming after him with brutal efficiency. Shiva wanted to hurt him, to test him. Her eyes were focused, her expression full of savage joy. She would not let him escape.
Iron Fist jumped backwards away from her as he reached the top of the stairs one step ahead of her, kicking a nearby wooden stool at the assassin. A desperation move. Anything to distract her; anything just to slow her down. Shiva faded around it so quickly that she almost vanished from sight. Danny's knuckles knocked away a knife-hand thrust aimed for his throat that would have left her fingers painted red; but he didn't block a back kick that caught him in the side, putting thin cracks in two of his ribs. Somehow he stayed on his feet, sliding back, and she was immediately all over him again.
The woman was a hurricane, attacking the Iron Fist again and again. She was fully enjoying this now, pushing the Thunderer like maybe no one had ever pushed him before. Always moving, always attacking. Her hands sought his neck, gut, ribs and face. Shiva was hunting him now. And she intended to catch him.
Her fellow assassins watched with awe and fear alike. They had never seen Lady Shiva fight like this. This Iron Fist was truly something beyond their imagination. His precision, speed, and skill were incredibly developed. From their eyes, it was a miracle he wasn't dead yet.
Blocking another kick with both forearms, Danny was driven back, the backs of his legs hitting stone. And when she aimed a spiked punch right for his heart, Danny lifted both palms together to block it.
And let the force send him flipping backwards over the edge.
All of the assassins watched transfixed as the American fell backwards over the ledge and down through the air.
But as Danny fell, his hand caught the wall and flipped him close to upright so he landed with enough control to collapse into a roll. It ended him safely on the floor instead of breaking his neck. His gambit to buy himself much-needed breathing room had paid off. His head flipped to keep Shiva in his sight. She stood perched above him on the balcony edge, watching him like a hawk. Her gaze was locked right on his, cold and unemotional.
Iron Fist lifted and lowered his hands, breathing deeply, and the weight of fear and tension dropped away. He gazed back up at Shiva, lifted his hand, and beckoned.
Smiling with vicious determination, Shiva launched herself from the edge, flying down at him, and the war continued.
As the two warriors resumed their brutal dance, things simply… clicked in Danny's mind. This time, the Living Weapon fared better. He was fully into the flow of battle again, momentum coming back in his favor. He deflected and traded blows with Shiva, the contest playing out much more evenly. Exchanges flashed. Leaps were side-slipped or met with flying kicks; ankle sweeps skipped over and punches parried. Flashes of red, black, and yellow danced in the stronghold courtyard, a master-class spectacle of combat.
And that same thrilled smile again touched Danny's face.
Shiva was enjoying herself just as much, fiery amusement dancing in her eyes. This man was strong. He was blocking and countering all her moves, not faltering in the face of her constant onslaught. The woman's eyes danced with fierce amusement. She looked at him like he was a puzzle she could play with to her heart's content. Shiva's smile grew more wicked as she tested him with even more advanced techniques. She would push him to become better, test him to the absolute limit.
Nothing else mattered. Just them. Just this fight. She wanted more. She wanted this to last.
Talia stood in a small crowd of other League ninja, marveling at the sheer ferocity of the exchange between the two warriors. Only the duels between her father and beloved had ever compared to what she now witnessed. These two were the definition of combat in action. It was incredible. Talia was captivated.
Shiva again found the chink in the armor first, a punch with the second knuckles of her index and middle finger extended cracking another of Iron Fist's ribs and driving him back. Her next punch and finger strike were both deflected, and she caught the fist he used for a counterstrike. A responding palm strike from Shiva had the power of a 250-pounder's haymaker, almost shattering Danny's jaw. He twisted with the impact, a faint snarl leaving his throat as he backfisted the woman clean across the face in return, adding more of her ichor to the floor.
Their audience gasped. He'd drawn Lady Shiva's blood twice today.
They'd just stepped beyond the dance. Now was pure aggression. No more games. Just blood.
Shiva's eyes burned with sudden rage. The woman no longer cared about testing her opponent, angry beyond measure at this man for wounding her in such a way. She darted in, and K'un Lun's Thunderer met her full bore, offense to offense. Sweeping aside a clawed blow that reached for his eyes, Iron Fist dropped and put his fist into her gut, taking a palm that bloodied his mouth in turn. He caught her knife hand thrust for his ribs and threw a punch strong enough to dent metal, which she caught in the palm of her hand.
For three seconds the two pushed against each other, jaw's grit as they glared molten death into each other's faces. Impasse.
At the speed of thought, Iron Fist shifted his left hand and twisted Shiva's wrist outward. She interrupted the takedown by sending his head whipping back with another kick. Then Shiva caught and snared his left arm; she whipped sideways, using all her weight to bring him down for an armbar intended to rip his shoulder out of the socket. Only a memory, a story told by Nightwing about one of Batman's more encounters with Lady Shiva, and her use of the same move allowed Danny to roll with the motion, avoiding the joint lock. He twisted and drove a solid kick into her midsection to knock her off of him. Even as her ribs burned, Shiva caught herself. Now Iron Fist threw himself at her, a storm of fists and fury.
Shiva took the wind out of his sails seconds later; a swift left kick caught Iron Fist's shin, sending him to one knee. He blocked the punch that followed, but not the devastating right foot kick that caught him across the cheek. Definitely a loose tooth. His reaction was instant and savage, grabbing her ankle before she followed through, then slamming a fist down on her knee with almost enough force to break it. Shiva let out a strained hiss. The quickness and sheer force of the attack had startled her; her knee buckled. Her eyes smoked with hate, and another vicious punch sent her opponent sprawling.
Iron Fist's bell was rung as he went rolling a couple of times on the floor. Somehow his palms caught the ground. He couldn't yet hear anything; only the ringing in his head. He couldn't get himself to move yet; he just stayed there panting, the pain of his cracked ribs and bruised liver pricking at his awareness. He lifted his gaze to the woman in red as quickly as he could. She was down on one knee, the right one he'd almost broken touching the ground. Iron Fist's keen eye noticed some fluctuating variation in her pupils, and the more obvious thin trail of blood leaking from her nose—most certainly a concussion.
He would carry that in particular as a badge of honor for whatever remained of his life.
A lull in their combat took hold as the two warriors silently stared at each other. The assassin didn't falter as she met his gaze, a cruel smile twisting her lips up at the corners. This battle was it. It was what made her tick, what excited her to her core. What made her feel alive.
The gathered League assassins and ninjas were in awe. They had never seen Lady Shiva pushed so hard before, let alone wounded to this extent. They were stunned at seeing their best warrior in this state of weakness.
Danny, however, began to realize something. Short of whipping out an Iron Fist of Shou Lao or a concussive chi blast, in a contest of pure martial arts, he was taking considerably more punishment than Shiva. To continue like this… may very well mean death. And in all honesty, he'd just about had his fill.
Sucking air into his lungs, Danny searched for words, gingerly lifting a finger. "My lady…" Thoughtlessly deferential, even to a small extreme, he spoke as quickly as he was able. "I've… gotta ask at this point." Another pained inhale. "Have I… augh… impressed you enough… to walk out of here alive?"
He asked the question knowing she could just as easily order the legions of assassins to descend on him, if not simply going for the kill herself.
Shiva said nothing for a moment. She simply stared at him, her dark eyes narrowing as she considered his question. She was more than impressed. There was no doubt the assassin had enjoyed herself. This young American had proven himself. A small smirk toucher her face and she gave her answer: "You have."
A weak approximation of a laugh left Danny's throat. "Great…" And with that, he finally allowed fatigue and pain to win, collapsing onto his back no more quickly than his broken ribs and bruised liver would allow. His chest rose and fell rapidly, restoring much-needed oxygen.
It was over.
Shiva watched him as he finally collapsed to the floor and gasped for breath. The assassin didn't want to admit it, but the sight was amusing to her. The man had pushed himself hard, but his body was giving out and it was clear he could go on no more. And it had been such a long time since she had met someone who could match her skills in combat as much as he had.
As smoothly as her aching knee allowed, Shiva crossed the courtyard to him, her expression settling down into a more relaxed state. She stood over him, her dark eyes studying the Thunderer's face and body, enjoying the sight of him in her own way. The expression on her face was not hostile now. It showed satisfaction; even respect. "Not bad at all, Mr. Rand," Shiva spoke in her silky voice. She looked at him curiously, enjoying the sight of him in her own way.
The remaining assassins watched this final act with awe. Shiva had been pushed to her absolute limits by this fighter. A feat perhaps no one before had ever accomplished. They knew now that Shiva herself had gained a level of respect for the young American; she had even decided to let him live. A shocking development
The white glints of his yellow mask opened slightly, briefly acknowledging her presence by his side before they closed again. "Happy… to have not disappointed you," Danny said through his panting.
Shiva smirked at his words. Her adrenaline was wearing off, the fight's impact on her body starting to settle in. "You surprised me. I've faced many of the world's greatest warriors. Only a select few have ever made me bleed." She wiped the trail of red from her nose. "You'll go to your grave a legend."
"It's an honor to receive such praise… from the great Lady Shiva," Danny replied when he could. His breath began to slow, a little bit more energy being restored. His fingers tensed on the ground as if reaching awareness of his surroundings again. Another few moments, and he'd be able to get up.
A thought sprang unbidden to Shiva's mind. His glowing fist of chi was nowhere to be seen during their battle. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, her smile disappearing. "You did not use your namesake against me." The assassin's voice was suddenly a few degrees sharper. Was she being underestimated? Was he so arrogant to think her unworthy of its use?
"There was an instant where it crossed my mind," Danny reasoned through his deep inhales. "But you wouldn't test a man's kenjutsu by giving him a cannon, would you?"
The comment caused Shiva to raise an eyebrow, not knowing quite what to make of that at first. Her mind went back to some of his earlier words… so, that was truly all this was to the young man? A test of pure martial skill?
"Besides," Danny went on, "one day the time will come when the mantel is passed… and I won't have it anymore." He inhaled and exhaled deeply again, licking his chapped lips. "Becoming reliant on it would be dangerous."
Shiva considered his words for a few moments. Then her smile returned, a bit wider, the anger only a memory. And the sight of him in pain brought a small amount of pleasure to her. "A quaint outlook." Despite herself, Shiva couldn't help but feel a small bit of pride in knowing that she had pushed him to the point where he was nearly forced to use it. In more ways than one, she took it as a compliment.
At last, Danny opened his eyes, gazing at the clouds for a few moments. Then he looked over at Shiva. "Can I also trust you not to send out any kill orders on me? I've had enough ninja clan beef for one lifetime."
Shiva smirked once more as his eyes met hers. She seemed to consider the consequences of letting him go. Could this lead to a problem? He certainly was worthy of the respect he received. And she'd found something new and exciting in him. With another thought, she replied. "On one condition."
Danny's brow furrowed beneath his mask. "Which is?"
"You will fight me again," Shiva said. It wasn't a request, but a demand. There was something about their fight that she was beginning to crave. She wanted more of it. A challenge, a hunt. That's what it was to her, and she was going to have fun with it. With one small added mercy: "When you've improved a bit."
Again, Danny's exhalation approximated a laugh. He definitely should have seen that one coming. It was bizarre. Despite Lady Shiva being so infamously brutal and murderous, they at least had one thing in common: a love for intense battle. It seemed he had a new rival. He would fulfill her demand—one day. And it might have been the loopiness from pain or otherwise that brought his rather carefree retort: "Truly, you are a woman after my own heart."
The assassin's dark eyes twinkled. For the second time today, she almost laughed. One day that little comment might be far truer than Danny Rand realized. The American was certainly unusual; one Shiva would have to keep a close eye on from now on.
He might even be starting to grow on her.
With some effort, Danny lifted himself back to a sitting position. The pain was starting to worsen with the fall in adrenaline, but he was less fatigued, rising again to his feet as she did so too. With proper deference, he waited for her to begin walking, then turned and followed her shoulder-to-shoulder back to the main entrance from where he'd come.
"Hope the knee is all right," Danny said honestly, observing the faintest stutter in Shiva's footsteps. "Wouldn't want anything holding you back next time."
Shiva was genuinely surprised at his concern. Her dark eyes briefly glanced him over, noting the full effects of his own wounds. And she realized the contest hadn't quite been a match of skill. She smirked, but there was a touch of honesty in it. "Don't worry," she replied casually. "It will not slow me down."
He continued on side-by-side with her until they reached the gateway. He turned once more, gingerly brought his arm across his chest, and gave a short bow of his head. "It's been a pleasure, Lady Shiva."
The woman's smile grew a fraction more, her heart still beating fast. "The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Rand," she replied, returning his bow.
And then Iron Fist slowly, carefully, with steady wincing, began his journey back down the stairs and out the way he came.
Shiva watched him as he went. She had enjoyed her time with the American. He was so different from her normal opponents. And she had not faced someone who had pressed her like this in some time; the thought made her smile a little bigger. She would remember this. Only when Iron Fist was a barely recognizable dot on the pathway out did the hint of warmth vanish, and she was ice once more. Only then did she turn to the shadows suddenly gathered behind her.
Talia stood at her immediate left. The two women exchanged a look; it spoke more than words ever could.
Then Shiva turned to the other assembled ninja. "I want him watched."
Talia's lips compressed at the word. She nodded to herself. The assassins too gave small nods of their own.
Shiva then turned her head left and right to all the ninjas gathered in the vicinity, raising her voice loud enough for all of them to hear: "But he is not to be harmed," she said firmly. "Am I clear?"
The shadows all nodded again in response, understanding their enforcer's intentions. They had already seen enough to know that this man, Iron Fist, was not merely another adversary. He had earned the respect of the deadliest ferocious assassin in the League of Shadows. And Shiva would be sure that no one in this League of Shadows laid a hand on him.
Talia's mind swirled. Her father would be very in this when he returned.
And, done! I haven't had as much fun writing something in quite awhile. Fighting scenes are just my bread and butter. I hope I did both characters justice as far as their fighting ability. Shiva's one of my favorites. I'm putting a little of my own extra flair on the "fight junkie" parts of Danny's personality, but it's just my interpretation. I've got a few other ideas to put in going forward. Hope you enjoyed!
-SSD