IRON FIST WEEK DAY 4: FAVORITE RUN (A Favorite Run/Story Arc/ Issue/Episode) - THE IMMORTAL IRON FIST
Ed Brubaker, Matt Fraction, David Aja, Matt Hollingsworth, and the rest of the Immortal Iron Fist crew blew our minds from 2006 to 2008, earning praise from fans and critics alike. The series became the definitive Iron Fist story, and is arguably the single most influential story in the character’s history.
The series introduced all new characters and mystical cities, while deepening and expanding the Iron Fist mythos. It's a run unlike any other in Iron Fistory.👊
Sunlight shone through the branches of the Tree of Immortality. The day was warm and his left arm was twinging from a slow-healing fracture, but Danny climbed until he could see above the uppermost branches and out across the city. He braced his bare feet against one branch and his back against another and took a moment to just breathe.
He wasn't supposed to be up here. It wasn't technically allowed or proper. But all of the kids in K'un-Lun did it. The tree had stood since the beginning of time, or so the legends claimed. It wouldn't be damaged by a few dirty feet.
"Hey!"
He looked down. Sparrow was staring up at him from the ground, her hands on her hips.
Danny waved.
A moment later and she was clambering up next to him, sweating in the heat. "Are you hiding up here?"
"Uh, no."
"Hmmm." She positioned herself in the crook of a branch and started picking at her toenail. "Thunderer tells me you got your butt whooped in training today. Said you let your emotions get the better of you." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Sloppy. Immature."
He hated the way she said it, so confidently. Like she knew everything about him. Like she never made any mistakes.
"Mind your own business," he snapped. He instantly felt his face flush. Stupid. It wasn't Sparrow's fault he'd embarrassed himself in front of Lei Kung. He looked away from her. The sky was bright blue, streaked with gossamer-thin clouds.
"Don't be a baby, Danny," she said, and he could hear the eye-roll. "As your senior and elder, it's my job to watch out for you and share my infinite wisdom. Get over yourself."
He glanced back at her and couldn't help muttering, "Actually, I'm older than you now."
It was true. He had watched the changes in himself, while noticing that as far as he could tell, Sparrow had remained pretty much the same. He was already nearly a head taller than she was.
He wondered what age he was now, really. Beyond marking the ten-year cycles that defined K'un-Lun's position in the Heavens, there was no way of knowing exactly how much time had passed back on Earth. And immortals had no reason to celebrate birthdays; what would be the point? All he could say for sure was that he had been nine, and now he was older. Was he a teenager yet? He wasn't sure what being a teenager felt like, but he figured it was possible.
Sparrow gave him a dangerously sweet smile and leaned forward, until their noses were almost touching. "You might be more aged than me, Outworlder. But you are not older. Show some respect."
He held her gaze. "You first."
"Rand-K'ai, I will push you out of this tree."
"Do it, then."
Sparrow laughed and leaned backward. She folded her arms behind her head.
"You're lucky I'm such a wise and generous mentor," she said. "There might be hope for you yet."
***
"Well, here she is." Jeryn swept an arm in a wide arc that encompassed the facade of a rambling brick building. "Ring any bells, lad?"
Danny tugged at the tie digging into his neck. He felt as if he were standing just outside of himself, looking at the world through a fractured glass. This was a building from a dream. But somehow, here it stood before him. He had lived here once. He knew he had.
"Yes," he said tightly.
"Not too shabby," said Misty. She nudged him, and he turned to see her concerned expression. "You okay?"
He had been on Earth for over a year already and wasn't sure, in all that time, that he had ever once felt "okay." An urge rose from deep inside him to wrap his arms around her, to hold her like an anchor in a world that once more felt like it was coming apart.
He pushed it down. A warrior of K'un-Lun did not do such things.
"I'm fine," he said.
Jeryn was hunting in the pockets of his suit. "Now, where did I put the damn-- Aha!" In triumph, he held up something that glinted in the sunlight. He strode to the door and started wrestling with the lock.
"Hey," said Misty quietly. She leaned toward Danny. "You look pretty spooked. I can always tell Jeryn to knock this off and we can split, you know. Just say the word."
You're so kind to me, he didn't say. "I'm fine, Misty. If I'm truly to live in this world, I..." He took a breath. "I think I need to do this."
She smiled and patted his arm. "Alright, then."
"Danny, my boy! Welcome home!" Jeryn was holding the front door open proudly, as though announcing the arrival of the Yu-Ti himself.
Danny walked to the door. It was a short walk, but the sidewalk felt like it was tilting beneath his feet. When he finally arrived, he found himself staring into a room that he knew. Familiar but alien. He felt sick.
Jeryn slapped him on the back. "Not a bad present, eh?"
Danny blinked at him. "I'm sorry? I don't--"
Jeryn adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat. "Well, unless my firm's records are mistaken--and you'd damn well better tell me now, if they are--isn't today your birthday?"
***
"Who is this again?" Danny yelled as 42nd Street shook with another energy blast.
Colleen shrugged. "I dunno, Pothole Man?" She popped her head up from behind the overturned taxi currently providing them some shelter. "Hey, loser! What's your name?"
The guy leveled his weapon at them, and they dove out of the way. The taxi exploded.
"What are we hanging around for?" Misty hissed as they regrouped in the ruined doorway of what had once been Duffy's Adult Video Store. "We've gotta take him out now. Look at all this damage!"
Danny peered into the smoking street. "We should wait for Luke. You know he hates to miss a team-up with you guys."
"Well, he better get his ass in gear, then." Misty tapped her holster. "Y'all should go for it. I'll cover you."
"Heeey." Colleen picked up one of the videos scattered across the floor. "X-Men. Nice."
"Col. Not the time."
Colleen dropped the video with a sigh and adjusted her backpack. She could turn on intensity like flipping a switch; her grandfather had always told her, "a divided mind is weak. A warrior's mind has only one goal." Danny knew what route she would take to approach this threat: postbox to lamppost, then slip behind the line of parked cars to keep the enemy guessing where she might emerge. No showboating, no needless risks. Guys like this, nobodies out to get a rep, could often be the most dangerous.
Danny knew with a comforting certainty Colleen could guess his moves as well. With her taking the subtle approach, he would draw the enemy's attention--and fire--in the opposite direction. She gave him a quick nod, gripped the hilt of her katana, and vanished through the doorway.
Danny stepped into the middle of the street.
The guy with the energy gun whirled and pointed it at him. "Spider-Man!"
"Well...no."
The guy waved a hand. "Whatever! Back off, Fancy-Pants."
Danny could hear Colleen--no, sense her--crouched behind a white van just behind and to the left of the guy, studying angles, picking her moment.
Danny started walking toward him, slow, confident. Idiots like this always thought themselves to be powerful. In his time on Earth, he'd learned that much of the world of heroes and villains was defined by egos. "Really? Why would I do that?"
To Pothole Man's credit, he didn't waste time bantering. Danny saw his finger tighten on the trigger.
Danny dove forward, rolled under the line of energy that shot from the gun, and slammed his palm upward into the man's chin--not hard enough to kill, but definitely enough to get his attention.
Pothole Man staggered backward. His arm shot up wildly and a second blast of energy split the air just as Colleen leapt out from hiding.
Somebody screamed.
Danny moved without thought and faster than it, kicking the man in the head hard enough to sprawl him onto the street.
Colleen swore. Danny turned to see her standing there, motionless. Slowly, she reached back and pulled off the charred and melted lump of fabric--and, oddly, what looked like colored paper--that had been her backpack.
"Ohh, you're lucky I didn't get to you first," she said to the unconscious Pothole Man. "You bastard."
Misty sprinted over. "That was too close. Everybody alive?"
Colleen was still staring sadly at the backpack. "Yeah, I guess."
The authorities finally showed up and, after a few questions, carted Pothole Man away.
Misty glanced at Colleen as she returned from a quick trip back into the adult video store. "We better, ahem, get over to the Gem. See what's happened to Luke."
"Yeah, ahem, I guess we'd better." Colleen grabbed Danny's arm. "Come on, kid."
There was a sign on the front door of the Gem Theater, scrawled in hasty marker on a sheet of crumpled paper: "Closed for renovations. Come back tomorrow."
Danny frowned. "Renovations? Luke never ment--"
Colleen yanked open the door and Misty grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him through.
"Happy birthday, Danny!"
Danny blinked. The front lobby was filled with balloons. A string of letters spelling "happy birthday" had been taped to the wall, and a pile of pizza boxes sat next to a stack of presents on at the concession counter.
"Gotcha!" shouted Luke, pumping a fist.
"He sure looks surprised," said D.W. from behind a video camera.
Harmony ran forward, grasped Danny's hands, kissed him on both cheeks, then stepped back and looked him up and down. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Have you been working on your birthday?"
Danny opened his mouth.
"Harmony, babe, leave the man alone." Luke strode forward and pulled Danny into a hug that was only moderately more painful than usual. "Happy birthday, partner."
Danny hugged him back. "Thanks, Luke. Gods, I never... Did you guys plan all of this?"
"Did plan the party, did not plan the supervillain attack," said Colleen. "Which, by the way, is the title of my memoir."
"Supervillain--? You guys teamed up without me?!"
"Sorry, Luke. I tried to tell them."
"I've got a present for you over there." Misty nodded at the counter. "But here's an extra." She kissed him.
Colleen brandished the remains of her backpack. "Well, thanks to our pal back there, my gift is no longer of this world." In her other hand, she held up the tape she'd grabbed from the video store. "You, uh...you want this instead?"
***
The box sat on the table. It was white cardboard, sealed with packing tape, addressed to him, Mr. Iron Fist, care of Heroes for Hire, Oracle, Inc. The return address was a P.O. box in New Jersey without a name attached.
Jim Hammond tapped it with his finger. "I've scanned it. It seems harmless."
Danny folded his arms. "I'm not afraid of a box."
Jim shrugged, then looked him up and down. Danny folded his arms even harder.
"It could be from a fan. You know you have fans, right? I mean, statistically speaking, you surely--"
"Okay." Danny grabbed the box. "Thank you, Jim."
Jim swiveled in his chair. "My pleasure."
At home, Danny set the box on the kitchen counter and considered it some more. Finally, he took a breath, ripped off the packing tape, and slowly tilted it.
The first thing that slid out was an envelope. The letter inside was typewritten, on glossy paper. Danny held it tightly in both hands.
Danny,
I hope this letter finds you well, or at least better off than when we last spoke. Frankly, I have had a lot to share (in vague terms, of course) with my therapist, and I hope that you're not one of those guys who is unwilling to seek professional help. I promise you, it can do wonders.
After everything that happened in California last month, I wanted to reach out. I know our relationship has been a challenge to you in the past. I have many regrets in my life. But I want to express how much I value and care about you as a friend and to share my deepest condolences on the loss of your sister. I wish there were more I could do for you in this difficult time, but I hope you can at least accept my sincere sympathy.
I don't know when, or even if, you're receiving this (your Heroes for Hire operation seems like a tight-run ship these days; from one entrepreneur to another, you should be proud), but I am mailing this on what I know is your birthday. Please find enclosed an unusual item that was discovered in R-M Inc. storage after my father's death, which I have kept ever since. It really belongs with you.
Best Regards,
Joy Meachum
Danny placed the letter down carefully and reached into the package again. Inside was another, smaller box, held shut with tape and bundled in bubble wrap. Inside of this was a small leather drawstring pouch, black and cracked with age. It was surprisingly heavy, and when he tilted it into his hands, he discovered why.
Seven gold coins spilled into his hand. He picked up one. It was oddly warm to the touch, glinted like new, and bore on its surface the mark of K'un-Lun, the Shining City.
Danny held his father's coin in his hand for a long time. He re-read the letter from Joy. He told himself that Miranda and Conal were watching him from the realm of Feng-Tu, that they had found peace there.
He'd have to write back to Joy. Of course. Eventually.
He packed up the coins and the letter, and left.
***
His first impression was of orange and blue. He blinked, and slowly, abstract shapes took solid form. Orange stone beneath an orange sky.
Danny's thoughts wandered in slowly, as if from a great distance, but he gradually became aware that, medically speaking, it was an achievement for him to be thinking anything at all.
He knew, with a kind of cosmic certainty, that he was dead.
He had died before, years ago, and he had stood on the doorstep of Feng-Tu many times more. But the land of the dead had never looked like this before. Cliffs rose on all sides of him. Wind howled through the canyon, flinging up stinging clouds of orange sand.
Death was no surprise; not really. Even without the time limit granted all Iron Fists by the Ch'i-Lin, he had always known he would die sooner rather than later. He was, he reflected, fortunate to have been granted one extra year among the living. A lot had happened in that year...for better or worse.
Danny raised a hand against the swirling dust and stared upward at the cliff face. Nothing to do now but do what he had always done--fight on with a childlike stubbornness that sometimes, on his better days, felt like courage.
"Happy birthday to me," he muttered, and began to climb.
A Quick Author's Note: The reason for the shortage of references to modern-era Iron Fist comics that I love (Immortal, Living Weapon, Brisson/Perkins, etc.) is because I am, unfortunately, a canon stickler. It's been directly stated on-panel that everything between Danny's birthday in Immortal Iron Fist #16 and his birthday/death in the 50th Anniversary Special happened in the same year. In my humble opinion, that is bonkers...but there you go.
Power Man and Iron Fist vol. 1 #118 by Jim Owsley, Mark Bright, Julianna Ferriter, Jerry Acerno, and Janice Chiang
Iron Fist Week, Day 2: A Favorite Character
This year marks the twelfth anniversary of Lei Kung the Thunderer's death in Living Weapon, murdered--somewhat inevitably--by his wounded, bitter, and increasingly unhinged son. For me, this is one of those instances where I don't mind a character I love being dead. Lei Kung lived a very long life and succumbed to the inevitable snowballing of a poorly handled situation in a way that felt poetic and right, and his death has done nothing to diminish the appeal and impact his character had when he was around. Plus, he's been succeeded in his role by Sparrow, his adopted daughter, and that feels right too.
I've gushed about Lei Kung before and, I'm sure, will again. The guy just has it all. He sits firmly in the Strict Mentor archetype (which I love) but with a charisma and warmth that adds additional depth and richness to his personality. He's a minor side-character with lasting weight. As the war-master of K'un-Lun for [mumble mumble, the continuity is unclear] centuries, Lei Kung is a pillar at the core of the city's society. He is central to the history of the Iron Fist legacy and to the shape that worldbuilding has taken over the years. He is an unyielding disciplinarian with unshakeable principles, a force powerful enough, and moraled enough, to push back against the leadership and traditions of K'un-Lun if it means building something better.
Immortal Iron Fist #10 by Matt Fraction, Ed Brubaker, David Aja, Kano, Matt Hollingsworth, and Artmonkeys Studios
This comes from the fact that he is both a caring person and has what I'd call a bit of a mischievous streak. While strict and severe, he will extend kindness and warmth to pupils who need it, and he has both an eye for greatness and a tendency to collect misfits--among them Wu Ao-Shi, Sparrow, and of course, Danny.
Immortal Iron Fist #7 by Ed Brubaker, Matt Fraction, Travel Foreman, Derek Fridolfs, Dan Brown, Dave Lanphear, et al.
Iron Fist: The Living Weapon #3 by Kaare Andrews and Joe Caramagna
Power Man and Iron Fist vol. 1 #75 by Mary Jo Duffy, Kerry Gammill, Ricardo Villamonte, Jim Novak, and Christie Scheele
This warmth is complicated (again, that complexity!) by Lei Kung's utterly fraught relationship with his biological child. Davos has a lot of problems, and not all of them are Lei Kung's fault, but it's clear in observing their interactions and the progression of Davos's feelings of being betrayed, undermined, and sabotaged by his father that there are issues there that Lei Kung could perhaps have worked harder to mitigate before things ended up reaching the catastrophic state that they did. This, too, adds to the appeal of his character for me; the fact that he isn't perfect, that he has weaknesses, that he does make mistakes. He is both literately and symbolically superhuman while being so, so human, and that's a foolproof recipe for a fantastic character.
Iron Fist: The Living Weapon #2 by Kaare Andrews and Joe Caramagna
When I first heard the news of Sal Buscema’s death, this was the specific scene that immediately came to mind. Buscema was never particularly popular artist, and I still see people badmouth his work as being ugly. But I grew up reading his work in JM DeMatteis’ run of Spectacular Spider-Man, which is still my favorite Spidey run of all time. It’s a dark, raw, bleeding run of stories, full of anger and pain but also hope, and Buscema’s kinetic, jagged work was perfectly suited for DeMatteis’ scripts.
The last days of Harry Osborn—and the pain he manages to cause even after his last-minute redemption and death—is a psychological masterclass in exploring the cycle of abuse. He’s tragic and unstable, but he’s also terrifying and has agency, choosing to blame Peter for all his pain rather than accept the truth about his father. Even as someone who loves Norman’s own current redemption arc, I’ve always seen Harry as the greatest proof of Norman’s monstrosity. He destroyed his son long ago, and his son—instead of accepting the help of those around him—carries on his father’s legacy of abuse, resentment, and rage.
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