#6 July 2006

“Danny, I think we need to consider retirement,” said Luke Cage, the original hired hero.

“Just hang in there, Luke,” Iron Fist replied. “We’re doing okay. Before you know it we’ll be chilling in the hot tub.”

“We’re doing okay? Are you serious? The guy just folded a city bus in half! Strider’s speed isn’t helping, Diamond Dust is probably still out of commission, Deathlok and Photon haven’t reported back in, your arm looks horrible, and I’ve got some cracked ribs!”

“Well…when you put it like that…”

The guy Cage referred to was Gog, a large orange alien creature that was viciously tearing up downtown Chicago. So far, the Heroes For Hire had only succeeded in damaging the creature’s eye and pissing it off even more. The area now looked more like a war zone than the third largest city in the country.

“We need to pull ourselves together and get some teamwork going,” Iron Fist said as he jumped out of the way of a falling lamppost. His bloody arm was lighting his pain receptors on fire but his extensive martial arts training helped in alleviating it.

“Any ideas, fearless leader?” Cage asked.

“Yeah, but we need Strider first.”

A black and silver blur shot passed Gog’s feet, weaving in between his legs. The blur miraculously stopped without having to slow down, revealing it to be the team’s resident speedster, Strider. The dark-haired man bent down to pick up a handful of gravel when he noticed Iron Fist and Luke Cage heading over to him.

“Hey, guys,” Strider said. “Give me one second.”

Strider turned his attention back to Gog and pulled his arm back. He tossed the handful of gravel toward the behemoth at superspeed, the small chunks of rock bursting through the air like buckshot. Each piece that hit the giant’s chest cut into him deeply, shredding his red tunic. Strider scooped up more of the gravel and fired it off. Gog raised his massive arm to block the attack, causing the orange hide on his forearm to be torn up from the assault.

Gog roared in his fury and shoved his other arm into the black asphalt that made up the city street. Scraping at the black material, he pulled out his own handful of rocky terrain, only his chunks were bigger than Strider was himself. Gog flung his arm and the boulder-sized pieces of asphalt were hurled at the three grouped heroes.

“Sweet Christm--”

Strider grabbed Iron Fist and Cage before the latter could finish off his famous catchphrase. The asphalt exploded where they had been standing a split-second before, rubble flying into the air.

“Thanks for giving him that idea,” Cage said to Strider.

“He’s smart,” Strider defended, running the trio around a subway entrance to avoid more asphalt boulders. “He’s adapting and shielding himself better by taking cover. I doubt I’ll be able to get anything else passed those arms of his.”

“I need you to get two more things passed those arms of his,” Iron Fist said. “Us.”

“Say what now?”

“Speed us in between his legs so Luke can throw me straight up to avoid his forearms. It’s the only way I can get in close enough to hit him with the iron fist.”

“I could just throw you from somewhere other than ground zero,” Cage said. “It would be a lot less dangerous.”

“Your aim isn’t that good,” Iron Fist quipped. “Take us in, Strider.”

The team speedster, regardless of what he thought they should do, complied with the field leader’s order. Shooting around gaping potholes created by the giant, Strider built up enough momentum that carrying the two adults didn’t cause him any strain. Simple physics allowed him to carry much more weight than a normal human being. After all, an object at rest stays at rest.

Strider poured on the speed, zipping back and forth in a criss-cross pattern before Gog. The lumbering giant tried to follow the trio with his pupils, but quickly discovered he was unable. Strider easily carried Cage and Iron Fist passed the wreckage at Gog’s feet, stopping just short of the giant’s right leg.

“Last stop,” Strider said, releasing his grip on his teammates.

“You ready, Luke?” asked Iron Fist.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Cage responded. “I’ll try not to scratch this crazy yellow collar you love so much. I mean, this is a little out of our league, ya know?”

Iron Fist hopped up into the air, almost leaping higher than the top of Strider’s head. Cage caught his friend in his open hand, both of his feet resting comfortably in his palm. Iron Fist, oddly standing in Cage’s hand, crouched down ready to spring into the air again. The contortion startled Cage for a brief moment until he remembered that the man he was lifting was one of the best martial artists in the world. Summoning his great strength, Cage extended his arm straight up, launching Iron Fist toward Gog’s head.

As Iron Fist shot upward to his target, he summoned his own strength, although this type was of a much different nature. He quickly concentrated and focused his inner strength, his chi, and willed it into his right hand, making it like unto a thing of iron. Yellow energy swirled around and spilled out of his appendage, casting a soft glow on Gog’s orange skin.

Cage’s throw was right on the mark and Iron Fist passed by Gog’s massive arms, sailing straight for his jaw. Just when he was close enough, Iron Fist pulled back his empowered fist and gave Gog an uppercut, expelling the built-up energy as he connected. The combined force of Cage’s muscles and Iron Fist’s signature attack was enough to make Gog stumble back. The giant’s head tilted back in both surprise and sudden pain. The dried blood forming around his damaged eye crackled off from the unexpected movement. *

* [Strider gave Gog a little booboo in H4H #5 – D]

Gog cradled his chin in one hand and waved the other randomly, smacking Iron Fist in the air. It was a lucky shot since Gog was more concerned with the pain reeling through his skull and hadn’t actually aimed for Iron Fist. If he had been, the full force of Gog’s arm would have been more than enough to kill Iron Fist. Instead, it was only enough to send him flying away without even a bruise.

“Danny!” Cage yelled from the street level.

His trajectory now skewed from his attack on Gog, Iron Fist continued to sail up through the air laterally. The legendary martial artist had bounced away from the giant like a pinball, beginning to arc out across the city. Iron Fist, cool under pressure as superheroes tend to be, didn’t panic right away. It wasn’t the first time he had gone flying through the air uncontrollably.

“Yep…,” he muttered to himself. “Anytime now I’ll be saved by somebody. Yeah…anytime now…”

Cage watched his teammate fly away, not noticing Gog’s foot until it was too late. The giant kicked Luke Cage from behind, sending him flying as well. The original hired hero, however, was able to grab a lamppost to stop his own airborne trip. Iron Fist wasn’t so lucky.

The smooth sides of the structures came closer and closer, causing Iron Fist to start to sweat over the predicament.

“Okay, I might have to save myself here…”

One of the taller structures in Chicago, the Dumont Building, was quickly coming up on Iron Fist. He was headed straight for the south side of the building, its dark windows reflecting his own image back at him. If he angled himself just right, he might be able to get out of this alive.

Iron Fist flipped around in the air so his feet were now pointing at the Dumont Building, which was fast approaching. He had only seconds left before impact.

Danny Rand concentrated once again, focusing his chi into solid energy. Unlike before, the energy swirled around his entire body instead of just his one hand. This was a technique he had been practicing with but had not yet mastered. A shield quickly condensed around him, encasing his body. It was a thin shield that was like a second skin, but a shield nonetheless.

The honed body of Iron Fist smashed through a window on the eighteenth floor of the Dumont Building, feet first. Glass sliced through the air, some even breaking through the small shield Iron Fist had been able to erect. He it the floor and skidded to a halt, smashing through several cubicles.

“I’m never doing that again,” he said as he tried to stand up. His balanced faltered and he fell back to the floor, his head woozy from having to use his iron fist powers twice in such a short amount of time.

Iron Fist raised his hand to grab onto something to help pull him up, but was shaking enough that he missed the edge of a desk. He fell back to the floor again, exhausted. He raised his hand once more, determined to not let his team down. They needed him.

“Easy, Fist,” said Strider. The speedster eyed up his leader and knew he wouldn’t be much help in trying to take down Gog. He grabbed Iron Fist’s hand and hauled him to his feet.

“You gave him a good shot in the jaw,” Strider continued. “Might have even knocked his big teeth loose. I followed your flight plan and saw you smash into this building. Sorry about the wait, but it took me a few seconds to search some of the floors up here.”

“It’s okay…you’re still hired…”

The pair hobbled through the evacuated building to an elevator. Gog wasn’t the only thing they heard roaring from the street as he proceeded to go one-on-one with Luke Cage…gunfire also blared loudly.