CHAPTER 56

C56: Defenders

Driving into a quiet stretch of New York's Lower East Side, Luke Cage parked the car near an abandoned warehouse—one of many such places that once served as strongholds for various criminal outfits in the city.

Luke glanced into the rearview mirror at Matt and Ah Xing, then stepped out, giving them privacy. The steel door slammed shut with a deep clang, his footsteps echoing as he paced away.

Matt Murdock, adjusting his red-tinted glasses, tilted his head slightly, listening to Luke's retreating footsteps. In truth, he wasn't just trying to convince Ah Xing. Luke Cage had been avoiding involvement for weeks. Matt understood why. But the fight against the Hand wasn't something you could win solo not even for someone like him.

"Ah Xing," Matt began, his tone somber, "Madame Gao has resurfaced."

"Madame Gao?" Li Ran, through his clone, feigned confusion. Despite already knowing far more than Matt about the notorious crime lord from K'un-Lun, he maintained the act. "Is she that weird old lady from the factory?"

Matt chuckled faintly. "The one who knocked me across the room with a single strike? Yeah, that's her."

"To be fair," Ah Xing said bluntly, "I didn't get involved. You were the one who got... slapped."

"Fair enough." Matt winced, recalling the impact of Gao's iron-palm strike. "Look, I need your help again—like before."

"This is about the Hand, isn't it?" Li Ran asked, already knowing the answer. Gao wasn't just a powerful martial artist; she was one of the five founding leaders of The Hand, the ancient ninja clan with ties to resurrection rituals and dark chi arts. In The Defenders and Daredevil comics, they operated like a supernatural cartel, running drugs and manipulating criminal empires across continents.

"Exactly," Matt said grimly. "They're consolidating power. Gao is leading a new operation to control Hell's Kitchen's drug trade. The Hand is using centuries-old methods—blood magic, shadow assassins, undead foot soldiers. I've fought them... barely survived. I can't do this alone."

Matt's face, bruised and tired beneath his glasses, revealed the toll the fight had taken. His suit, while civilian, couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders—a man carrying too many battles in his bones.

"I believe you," Ah Xing said. "As martial artists, it's our duty to help the oppressed. That's the code of chivalry passed down to me by Master Ye in Penglai."

"Master Ye?" Matt asked, catching the reverence in Ah Xing's voice.

"Ye Wen," Ah Xing said, blending Mandarin into his English. "He wandered to Penglai in search of peace. He taught that martial arts weren't for fame or killing but for protection. Justice, even in obscurity."

Matt committed the name to memory. Ip Man, perhaps? The connection intrigued him, but for now, the fight was more pressing.

Still, he knew that Ah Xing's aid wouldn't be enough. The Hand had decimated entire factions in The Punisher and Iron Fist comics. Even Daredevil, Jessica Jones, and Iron Fist working together had struggled. They needed someone else—someone bulletproof, with fists like wrecking balls.

His eyes—sightless though they were—shifted toward Luke Cage.

"Maybe... let me talk to him," Ah Xing offered.

Li Ran smiled in the antique shop as he manipulated his clone. The more allies his avatars gained, the more presence and legend he built.

—

Stepping out of the car, Ah Xing approached the man built like a freight train. Luke Cage stood by a rusted lamppost, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The faint hum of Harlem still echoed in his bones.

"Long time no see, Luke."

Luke didn't smile. "Wasn't that long."

"I heard you've been keeping Harlem safe."

"I did it for Pop's memory. Harlem's got soul—it deserves defenders who know what they're fighting for. That's different than running around Manhattan with a blind lawyer chasing ninja myths."

Ah Xing tilted his head. "But what if those 'ninja myths' are already creeping into Harlem? The Hand doesn't respect borough lines. You know that. You've seen what they did to Midland Circle. You think they'll stop before they reach your block?"

Luke's fists clenched slightly. Pop's barbershop. Claire. Mariah Dillard. Harlem wasn't untouched by evil, it just hadn't seen the full storm yet.

"That's just speculation," Luke said, his voice low but uncertain.

"Is it?" Ah Xing stepped closer. "You're the one who told me to protect what matters. If we don't stop the Hand now, we'll be fighting them on your doorstep. Would you let them flood Harlem with narcotics and death?"

Luke didn't respond right away. He looked away—toward the skyline where Harlem's silhouette met the night.

After a long pause, he muttered, "Fine. I'm in. What's this little squad of yours called anyway?"

Ah Xing glanced back toward Matt, giving him the space to answer.

Matt, still by the car, had heard every word through the whisper of heartbeats and ambient vibrations.

He smiled. "We're called... The Defenders."

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