He stepped inside, locking the door behind him, the familiar creak of wood beneath his feet grounding him.
The house was quiet. The shadows calm.
He dropped his jacket on the chair, placed the Devil Cane against the wall, and let out a deep breath as he moved toward his room. Tomorrow, he would go to the dojo. Maybe even track the Hand itself down in Hell's Kitchen. But tonight, he would rest.
He slid under the covers, letting the exhaustion settle in.
The last thought before sleep took him was simple:
"Whatever this Red Box is... it better be worth it."
The morning sun filtered in through cracked blinds, casting golden rays across the room.
Alex sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The air felt heavy—not with exhaustion, but with something else: anticipation. Today was the day he would step into the shadows Sue once walked… and maybe get closer to the truth behind the Red Box.
He got dressed in silence. Black jeans, a dark fitted tee, and his worn hoodie. He laced up his boots, tucked the Devil Cane into his inventory, and stepped out.
The streets were already humming with noise—cars honking, vendors shouting, lives in motion. But Alex barely heard any of it.
He rode his bike toward the address Krow had given him. The wind was cold and sharp, biting at his face, but it kept him focused. Every turn of the pedal drew him closer to the past Sue had never told him about.
Eventually, he turned onto a narrow alley just off the edge of Chinatown. The buildings here were older—brick and concrete worn by time, stained with age. At the end of the alley was a two-story building, wooden doors faded and marked with old kanji. The windows were covered, and a faint scent of incense and dust lingered in the air.
Alex parked his bike and approached the entrance. A weathered wooden sign above the door read:
"Chikara Dojo"
He pushed the door open.
Inside, it was quiet—eerily so. Wooden floors stretched out across the dimly lit space. Mats lined the center, bordered by training dummies and racks of old practice weapons. Banners with calligraphy hung from the walls, whispering of discipline and battles long past.
But the silence was broken by a calm voice.
"You're not one of my students."
"Are you here to join the dojo?" Alex turned to look at the owner of the voice. It was an Asian beauty — from the Iron Fist, he remembered her name: Colleen Wing.
She was sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out as she eyed him.
"I am," Alex said, redrawing his hood as she smiled warmly at him. "But I would like to see how much stronger you are first," he said, looking at her.
She nodded and stood up. "I just warmed up, so let's see what level you're at, dojo challenger," she said with a smile.
Alex nodded back, ready.
Alex stepped forward, muscles tense and senses sharp, ready to face Colleen's speed and precision.
Colleen struck first—a rapid series of precise punches aimed at Alex's guard. He blocked, feeling the sharp sting of each hit but absorbed the impact with his powerful frame.
He countered with a heavy swing, forcing her to dodge backward with fluid grace. She spun, delivering a sweeping kick that barely missed his ribs.
Alex shifted, using his instinct to predict her movements. He lunged, grabbing her wrist mid-kick and twisting, but she flipped out of his grip, landing silently on her feet.
Colleen's eyes locked on him, narrowing. She moved like water—fast, flowing, and unpredictable. A swift jab to his shoulder followed by a spinning elbow, but Alex caught her arm again, their strength evenly matched.
"Not bad," she said, breathing evenly, her stance ready.
Alex smiled back in response. "You're fast."
She grinned back, launching herself forward again.
They traded blows—her agility versus his raw power. Every hit was met with a block or dodge; every strike a test of endurance and skill. The air buzzed with tension, the fight flowing like a deadly dance.
Alex feinted left, then spun right, aiming a heavy palm strike that Colleen barely avoided. She retaliated with a knee aimed at his gut, and he twisted, using the momentum to throw her off balance.
Both staggered, then charged again.
Panting, Colleen whispered, "You're stronger than you look."
Alex grinned, "And you're tougher than I expected."
Alex steadied himself, muscles coiled like springs as Colleen circled him, eyes sharp.
She feinted a quick jab, then launched a rapid series of palm strikes aimed at his chest and shoulders. Alex absorbed the blows, feeling the sting but standing firm. He countered with a thunderous uppercut that grazed her chin.
Colleen stumbled but recovered instantly, flipping backward to create distance.
With a fluid motion, she dashed forward, low sweep aimed at his legs. Alex leapt just in time, barely avoiding the sweep. He landed hard but kept his balance.
"Not bad," Colleen said, eyes gleaming with respect.
Alex grinned through the exertion. "You're lightning fast."
She smiled slyly, rushing him with a blur of kicks and punches. Alex blocked most, but one kick grazed his ribs, making him wince.
Gathering strength, Alex grabbed her ankle mid-kick, twisting sharply. Colleen hissed but countered with a palm strike to his side.
They locked eyes — fierce, determined — before breaking apart with mutual nods.
"Good fight," Alex said.
"Best yet," Colleen replied, breathing heavy but steady.
Colleen moved to sit at a stool, wiping her sweat while she looked at Alex. "So, what do you want?"
"Huh?" Alex asked.
"With your skills, there's no need to come here to join my dojo. So what do you want?" She asked, then threw a water bottle at him.
Alex caught it and took a sip. "Hmm, will you be mad if I say I fell for your beauty?" he said, shrugging.
Colleen paused and looked at him. "Maybe," she replied.
"If you really like a girl like me," she added.
"you are my type, hot and Athletic" he said as she looked at him.
"You're cute," she said, then added, "I'm free after ten, if you're still interested in dating me." She smiled as Alex nodded.
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