[Harlem, New York - Outside Pop's Barbershop]
"Danny, I..."
"Luke, I'm sorry."
Danny Rand leaned out of the window of his Porsche, his face pale and desperate. "I didn't mean to bring this to your doorstep. But this time... I have nowhere else to go."
Luke Cage sighed, his hand resting heavily on the roof of the car. He looked back at the barbershop. Pop was still sweeping, pointedly ignoring them.
They had met by chance in a bar fight—a brawl against the Purple Man, a psychopath who could enslave minds with a word. Danny, fresh from the mystical city of K'un-Lun, had jumped in to help Luke and a certain private investigator. They had bonded over bruised knuckles and shared trauma.
Since then, they had drifted apart. Jessica retreated into a bottle. Luke retreated into Harlem. And Danny? He tried to be a CEO.
"Luke, listen," Danny pleaded, his voice cracking. "When we fought the Purple Man, we found a link to a symbol. A red dragon."
"The Hand."
Luke's jaw tightened. "I remember."
"I've been digging into Rand Enterprises," Danny continued, his eyes wide. "There's a rot at the core of my company. Someone is using my shipping lanes to move heroin. Synthetic heroin."
"And today... they took Joy."
"Joy Meachum?" Luke asked.
"Yes. They took her to stop my investigation. Luke, they have her."
Luke looked at Danny's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He looked back at the peaceful barbershop.
'Forward, always.'
Luke opened the passenger door. The suspension of the sports car groaned under his weight.
"Drive," Luke rumbled. "But we need a third."
[Hell's Kitchen - Alias Investigations]
The door to the apartment smashed open—not because it was locked, but because the hinges were rusty.
The smell of stale bourbon and cheap noodles hit them instantly.
It was 2:00 PM on a Tuesday. The blinds were drawn.
On the couch, amidst a pile of laundry and case files, lay a woman in a leather jacket, snoring softly.
Jessica Jones.
Luke and Danny exchanged a look. Danny looked concerned. Luke looked resigned.
Luke walked over and nudged the couch with his knee.
"Jess. Wake up."
"Go away," a voice groaned from beneath a pillow. "Unless you're pizza delivery. Or whiskey delivery."
"We need your help, Jess," Luke said gently. "It's Danny. And The Hand."
Jessica sat up, her hair a chaotic mess. She squinted at Danny in his expensive suit, then at Luke in his hoodie.
"The Hand?" she rubbed her temples. "Ninjas? Again? I haven't even had coffee."
But she stood up. Because beneath the sarcasm and the booze, Jessica Jones was a hero. And she never left a friend behind.
[The Warehouse - The Docks]
The investigation was brutal and fast. With Stark-level tech out of reach, they used Jessica's street smarts and Danny's corporate access.
They tracked the kidnapping van to a secluded industrial estate on the waterfront.
The three Defenders stood before a massive, rusted iron door.
Luke stepped forward. He didn't bother with the handle. He punched the lock, the metal shearing like wet clay. He kicked the door open.
The warehouse was vast and empty, save for a single chair in the center of the room.
Joy Meachum was tied to it, gagged, her eyes wide with terror.
Standing beside her was not a ninja, nor a soldier.
It was a tiny, frail old woman leaning on a cane. She wore simple white robes and looked like she should be feeding pigeons in a park.
Madame Gao.
"I have been waiting for you," Gao said, her voice raspy but echoing clearly in the silent warehouse. "Danny Rand."
Danny's eyes locked onto Joy. She was unharmed.
"Let her go," Danny demanded, stepping forward.
"You are hasty," Gao tutted. "And rude."
Danny ignored her. He rushed toward Joy, reaching for the ropes.
"The Iron Fist of this generation..." Gao sighed, lifting her withered hand. "...is a disappointment."
She didn't touch him. She simply pushed her palm against the empty air.
[Chi Strike: Distance Push]
BOOM.
An invisible cannonball hit Danny in the chest.
Danny flew backward twenty feet, crashing into a stack of pallets. He gasped, clutching his chest, feeling as if his sternum had been cracked by a sledgehammer.
"Danny!" Luke shouted.
He stepped in front of his friend, his unbreakable skin ready for bullets.
But Jessica was faster.
"I am so done with old ladies hitting people!" Jessica snarled.
She launched herself into the air, a super-powered haymaker aimed right at Gao's head.
Gao didn't look up. She tapped her cane on the concrete floor.
Ding.
In mid-air, Jessica's eyes rolled back. She clutched her heart, screaming silently, and crashed to the floor, curling into a fetal ball.
"Jess!" Luke turned, reaching for her.
Then he felt it.
A sharp, agonizing pain erupted in his organs. It wasn't his skin—his skin was fine. It was inside. His lungs, his heart, his stomach—they were cramping violently.
Luke dropped to one knee, groaning, veins bulging on his forehead.
"What..." Luke wheezed, spitting bile. "What did you do?"
"Your master in K'un-Lun..." Madame Gao stepped over Jessica's twitching body, walking toward Danny.
"...didn't he teach you?"
She stopped, looking down at the fallen Iron Fist.
"One does not enter the Dragon's den without permission."
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