Chapter 71: Reckoning 

Damon Dran

Undercity, New York

In the distant past, the Elders of K'un-Lun gathered to learn how to focus their Chi for healing. However, five Elders, Alexandra, Bakuto, Gao, Murakami, and Sowande, had ulterior motives. 

They sought immortality and power, which was deemed unacceptable by the rest. Consequently, the five were banished from K'un-Lun and became the infamous five fingers of The Hand, each equipped with virtual immortality granted by "The Substance." They returned to their native lands, ruling over their domain and growing in power and influence. They were known to work together and against each other.

The Hand is a multi-national criminal empire that has grown from an ancient ninja clan. At some point, a group faction gained a stake in Rand Enterprises and used its resources to build influence in the business sector and drug trade. They went so far as to assassinate Wendell Rand to protect their operation within his company, using a resurrected Harold Meachum as their puppet leader. 

More than a decade later, members of the Hand were active in Hell's Kitchen, where they sought to deploy the Black Sky. This activity was opposed by Stick, a member of the Chaste whose members were aligned in direct opposition to the Hand. 

"You come bearing news about our enemies?" Dran asked unemotionally. Under the limited lighting in the room, he received people and did business. 

Masque swallowed, hesitant, his crazed mind sputtering to hold on to the rage and hate he held for his fellow Morlock at the sight of the man. 

"Y-yes, esteemed master of The Hand, Sir Dran." Sniveled the Morlock. Masque passionately arrayed himself as a wrongfully displaced leader. Dran had listened intently, requiring retelling and details on The Red Hood's capabilities.

'Hmmm. So, this Jason Todd is the Red Hood. Dran had sent his people to do a deep dive on the name but only came back with a notice that federal authorities had an A.P.B. out. His eyes were glowing? Could that be Chi? Was he related to Kun-lun? He had many questions but refrained from asking them in the present company. You're becoming quite interesting, Jason Todd.' 

Damon Dran's almost colorless eyes are an aftereffect of his deteriorating body that was once indestructible. He clenched his hands and, if not for his conditioning to hide his discomfort, would have screamed out. 

He had fallen under The Hand when his enemies rendered him helpless. Their strange ancient healing methods were his only comfort, but his 'esteemed' master required devotion and tireless supplication to get a paltry inoculation of their gifts. And, now, a thorn in their Hand potentially held those same abilities, Chi. Did they know about Red Hood? He would have to contact their partners.' 

The grotesque Masque kneeled before The Hand, his horrid visage causing Dran much distaste for his scary mutation. The supposed underground mutant, a Morlock, had thrown himself and his entourage at The Hand's feet. 

He dismissed The dethroned leader, a claim he doubted to be accurate, but the hate that radiated off of him speaking of his opponents made his other words believable. His gift, a word the Morlock used, was quite powerful, and even he questioned whether it could assist him. Red Hood had brought them more knives to be pointed at him. 

"See to it that our new friend doesn't try anything untold. Molot body autonomy is his initiation." He ordered as three Ninjas peeled from the shadowed walls and trailed the shorter creature.

Dran Hand thrummed against the hardwood of the desk; the room was dark like he liked it, and a single light flickered overhead. No, The Hand wasn't without luxuries. Dran old spy days, the setting he thrived in, called for deception and violence. 

The door closed, and another came before him. He regarded the man with a subtle look before nodding his start. "Keane Industries has agreed to stalemate Silver Sable and Sable industries." He said hurriedly, sweat beading on the side of his face. 

Dran grunted. That small country had been a thorn in The Hand Palm for far too long, but their location, the powerful royal family, and the world-renowned company had been a deterrent enough to hold their grasp. 

"Tell me why Sable Industries has aligned themselves against us." 

"I suspect the royal families have familial ties with the York. It may be retaliation against their killing. Sable is hard-pressed to challenge us even in the courts." The man said abruptly before stepping away from the old but powerfully built man; he eyed the cooling body of another, and his report met with his death. 

'Utter incompetence,' Damon Dran thought.

'Bullseye was working with the York boy, that's strange, and he was turned against his better judgment by The Red Hood. Was it a coincidence? doubtful.' 

Damon Dran's plated Hand slammed against the desk; he stood, his metal plates creaking, the sound making those gathered lean back, flight taking precedence in their minds. 

"Sir, we're sure the York boy is held up in Iceberg Lounge; the wanted Russian mutant has noticed our monitoring, and there has also been a sighting of drones around the Harlem location." 

"Bring this Jeremy York before me." The fingers of The Hand had decreed it so.

Cole Stephens 

His strongest haunt was the Armachram building, where he kept the hand that Kaecillus had cut from him. Its Grimm statuesque appearance now resided atop his desk. 

The conflagration hadn't stopped at the swirling black portal but had traversed through the two. Cole pushed the mother behind him and raised his hands toward the blooming, superheated ball of fire that was hellbent on spreading its wrath. Hoarfrost spread across his office beckoned by his will, a thin, flimsy veil of ice speared ahead, meeting the fire. He felt something crack; it sounded like a sculpture had shattered across the ground; chimes emanated inside his head, pressing against the countless others. 

He didn't dawdle; a mere second had passed, and the portal slammed shut. The port hadn't lasted long, but the mother still had the shock of her life look written across her face; he inwardly scoffed at her countenance. If not for the mission he had received, he wouldn't have done what he did; now, having time to think somewhat, this outing will throw a wrench in his plans. 

Host-Generated Mission: Your Abbott false guise has become an almost folk hero in Manhattan. Action has consequences; even good deeds bear strange fruits, and yours has led you into the path of a mother trying to escape a crazed maniac who will do anything to see her suffer. She has requested your help hiding away from her mysterious assailant to protect her children.

Choice-Hero: You could retire the cowl and embrace another mask. The mother has pleaded for you, The Abbott, to help her, pulling at your heartstrings. See to it that the mother is protected and reunited with her children—Reward (s): $1,00,000, x10 Alignment Shift, Unknown. 

Choice-Neutrel: For the children to survive, the mother must vanish. You have been startled by what it is to be a hero, yet your convictions lie elsewhere; you have the means now to assist the mother in changing her identity and hiding away from her would-be killer. Reward(s): $800,000. Victor Fries (Earth 19) Cryo Suit. Unknown. 

Choice-Villain: This isn't you. You have claimed not to want to be a hero, yet you have placed yourself and your plan at risk. The mother wishes to vanish, so why not just get rid of her? Put a bullet in her head and be done with all of this. The Hand awaits. Reward(s): $50,000. Sword of Night. Unknown. 

Cole stumbled, his motor skills uniquely lacking. He mistakenly recalled the heavy, burdensome task he had brought on his head, and the rewards and flavor text greatly irked him; what was the system trying to say? He didn't want the mission. He acted; his investigations and curiosity had brought him toward the location. 

'Anyone would have done the same.' He thought. Kaecillu's thoughts grew ever intense, causing him to wince. 

'Stand down.' He thought, halting the mystical worrywart of a man. Kaecillus's nature and the mandate had made them revere him as a savior. It was worrying that he still didn't understand the Red Lantern Mandate. Outside of being the corp leader, he assumed it was similar to Atrocious mystical means to control and lead in his universe. 

Armacham building had twenty-nine floors; the twenty-ninth was his floor and penthouse, and the other floors were labs and research floors, and he could already tell that the people hired had been transfixed on the projects available to them. Dr. Mishimoto was entirely responsible for the hires, and any leaks would befall him; he was assured that the contracts were binding enough. However, Cole still would keep the more clandestine projects to those under a different agreement, one with life-altering repercussions. 

His thoughts carried on as fatigue weighed him down; he managed to shuffle to his desk; he almost pulled at his core but knew the energy would only prolong the inevitable, and his healing factor would heal his torn and stressed muscles in no time. 

The mother hyperventilated against the far wall, her ordeal laying heavy on her. He peaked from his loose locs, his steel grey irises boring into her, his glare questioning. 

Before he could utter a word of encouragement, his door abruptly opened. He weakly raised his head from his palms; a single eye blurred vision recognized the woman that had entered. She stared at him, her eyes darted down, and she spoke. 

"Master Kaecillus had sent me to retrieve the wo-" 

Cole sluggishly gestured, his hand cut through the air, his arm growing heavier from the gesture, and the former assassin shuddered; she wasn't sure if it was from the chill in the room or in fear of him; she was expecting her death or, worst, a round of torture, but none came. 

"See to her health and accommodations." He said, his breath chilling the air frost spreading across the desk. He dismissed the mother and former assassin who had been trapped in the building, unallowed to leave on pain of death; her partners were unlucky, each of them confined to the extremities of the Armacham technologies; soon, they would be a replicant-psyop soldier that would put the best team the world had to offer to shame. 

He had no idea how long he slumbered at his desk but slowly awoke, his mind operating full and his alertness heightened. He awoke with a start, a Glock appearing in his hand, a curved blade he once used to carve up El Uno. 

'Alfred enable countermeasures.' He ordered. 

'Unable, sir, I barely could manage to awaken you from slumber; the grid has been taken offline, and the backup power will take five minutes to come online.' 

'Tsk. The Hand has caught me with my pajamas down then.' He joked, his hand hauling a ninja toward him as numerous shurikens embedded themselves into the man. 

'It is as you say, sir. The roundabout method could only happen now; by next week, the building would have been completely on its internal network.'

'Manual override the Boas drones in the vicinity. I want eyes in the sky. Let's see what kinda effort they put in to bring in Jeremy York.' 

'Voice command accepted. Sir, I would be amiss if I didn't tell you that your Persona percentage is complete; the upgrade is pending your system notification.'

He wondered what he would get next as his hand flashed, and a thrown star deflected out of the air. Cole fired, rolled across the desk, and alerted his systems. He laughed as blades flashed in the darkness, bodies dropping to the floor. The mere man died in seconds as Jeremy's ire bubbled to the surface. 

He swung out, the blade scalding hot by the ember-like glow that emanated from it as he sliced through a short blade that was arm's length and the offending arm, a bullet hole ending the man's pained shout. 

'Thirteen down, he thought, his dogs were coming,' and this farce would be over. A blade had escaped notice, and Cole's head turned with the strike; he growled at the blinding wound but pulled through it. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he ended another, his now handicap negligent as his parameters were far beyond what they were all those months ago. 

His heads-up display flashed on. His cameras in the building had been taken down with the grid. He smiled menacingly when he saw the attacking force. This was like the Defenders show, right? he needed a narrow hallway to relive that epic moment. 

"Enough." He thundered, grabbing the ending of the hundred-pound desk and chucking it across the office, ending the lives of a dozen ninjas barreled over. 

Cole stood amongst the members of The Hand bloodied, his eyes knitting back together under the startled gaze of the ninjas. Kaceillus was alerted and on his way back; the man was on the other side of the world and was probably breaking the speed barrier to arrive splendidly. 

'Sir, Miranda will need assistance. She is being overwhelmed.' He cursed aloud, forgetting about his guest and the mother. 

"Every last one of you die tonight." He roared as he sailed across the distance, fire blazing in his eyes. Two android-like dogs skidded around the corner, their growls sounding more menacingly as they came from a particular advanced speaker that kept increasing in volume and bass; their head turned to the side before taking off to the other end of the floor.