The Telemachus Story Archive

Captain America vs. The Iron Fist
Part 2 - The Price Of Resistance
By Crusher

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Chapter 2.  The Price of Resistance

Iron Fist crouches low, turning to his side, his defensive instincts honed to perfection.  His sense heightened, the tingle building slowly but surely in his core, triggered by sight and smell of his wounded opponent.  This was what he lived for.  This is what he sought.  Nothing but the thrill of the fight, the thrill of the conquest, the thrill of ownership, the thrill of piercing then savaging, then destroying strength and power, the thrill of destroying a strong warrior's mind, the thrill of heaping humiliation and degradation upon him until he shattered, knowing only his inferior status before his true master.  Who was this man and how did he come to challenge the world's only Superhero? Does Captain America have the power, skill, and fortitude to endure this force of primal nature?

Captain America, after giving his brave message of defiance, crumples suddenly, falling forward, still dripping blood from his cracked jaw.  The thrill of the kill fills the Iron Fist, momentarily filling his awareness, and carried by that thrill he bounds across the intervening distance, his body obeying him like a fine tuned instrument in the hands of the world's finest master musician.  Every muscle striated, hard and cut as steel.  The body of a killing machine.  He target's the hero's skull, looking to kick his temple in and end the hero's life, but something is wrong, his fight-honed instincts begin to scream caution.

Captain America, while definitely hurt, is no where nearly as hurt as he let on.  Considering and formulating a battle plan with the precision and attention typical of his fine mind takes only a matter of seconds.  He feigns injury, and as the foot hurtles towards his skull, the batlle-hardened American hero twists away from the oncoming boot, his own body obeying him flawlessly inspite of the beating he's taken.  In one fluid motion, as he twists, his opposite arm comes up under the oncoming boot, grabbing the villian's ankle poised mid-kick.  The blood-spattered jaw of the hero looks grim, and his muscle flows and uncoils with deadly steel power beneath the spandex costume of the soldier-hero, finishing his twist, ankle in hand.  The startled villian is caught of guard, and strives, fights to maintain his balance.  But it's no use.  The mighty invincible hero follows through to the technique's inevitable conclusion, given the American battle-hero's superhuman strength.  

Captain America, laid out on his back now, sweat running down his face, mixing with the trickle of blood escaping the corner of his busted mouth.  His  shield slung on his back, his chest jutting forward proudly, like two plates of battleship-quality steel, reinforced by a gut that looks thicker and stronger than reinforced concrete, he braces himself with his boots and free arm.   The enraged Iron Fist loses his footing as the awesome hero-muscle thrusts up, and with a mighty twist and heave, the prone Defender of Liberty flings the villain into the far wall with brutal force.


The bad guy slams into the wall, dust settles down from the ceiling, dazed and clearly stunned, the villain slumps down.

His striated muscle heaves, and his warrior-trained body struggles to shrug off the stunning blow.   The hero senses now is his time, and in one fluid motion Captain America regains his footing, releases his shield, and flings it at the prone villain.

The patriotic shield hurls through the air, the specially constructed shield practically indestructible, a deadly weapon as well as a defense in the hands of the mighty champion of America.  Racing just behind the shield, the American soldier-hero charges the enemy.

The dazed brute, Iron Fist, helpless to stop the shield, doubles up in agony as the mighty red, white, and blue symbol of Captain  America's power plows into the yellow spandex covering Iron Fist's diamond hard abs.   Spit flies out, and the villian sinks deeper into the wall, eyes not focusing.   The concussive blast triggers a memory inside the villian...  one of his earlier fights, in the arena, in the cage, taking a shot that gutted him, folding up, falling down helpless.

The shield bounces off the downed warrior's body and returns to Captain America's outstretched oncoming hand.  Midleap, he raises the shield, aiming it down like a mighty club towards Iron Fist's head. 

Operating on a trained warrior battle-reflexes, the villain throws himself aside, digging deep into his own reserves of energy and moxie.  Roaring with a fierce cry, he ducks aside and behind Captain America.  The hero's shield clangs harmlessly against the wall, and Iron Fist lashes out with his arm, wrapping up the hero's neck from behind, going for the kill.  Operating on his own instincts, Captain America braces his boots against the wall and heaves backwards with awesome force.  The explosion of pure American solider-muscle power is so intense Captain America and his attacker are hurtled backwards. 


 Captain America's body smashes into the stunned Iron Fist as the bad guy is crunched between the wall and Captain America's added weight.   Badly dazed again, Iron Fist smiles inside.  He can't remember the last time he'd actually been challenged, he can't remember the last time he'd actually felt threatened.   His whole life, his career as the elite of the elite, the heavyweight champion of the world's most prestigious MMA organization, flashed before his eyes, as he hovered on the edge of unconsciousness.  Fighter after fighter fell before his fists as he climbed the ranks.  Ever loss, he avenged.  Until he stopped losing.  Then, his final fight, defending his championship the last time.  The fight had been long and protracted, brutal and bloody.  The challenger and crowd favorite, Masterson, was born to fight.  He was charismatic, heroic, powerful.  His technique was direct and brutal.  Target the gut, break the gut to break the fighter.  It was his specialty, and against the champion it appared to be working as it had all his other opponents.  The champ could not believe the speed and endurance of his opponent.  Masterson's guard and defense was impeccable, and time and time again his specialized technique got past the champ's defenses, breaking the gut down bit by bit.  Then, late in the fifth round there was a perfect deadly skilled shot to the champ's sore, busted gut.  The shot sunk deep into his gut, blasting past his final defenses.  Fighting on fumes and grit, most men would have lost the will to fight.  But somehow, the more his opponent hurt him, the more he wanted to hurt him back.  But that gut shot nearly killed him.  Some primal survival instinct, something deep and deadly awoke in him, and the next thing he knew he heard a SNAPPPPPPPPP.   And, he saw he was standing behind Masterson, who was unconscious, his arm broken at a sick angle, twisted up behind his back.  Looking down at himself, the champ saw that his trunks were stained. He had cum.  A feeling of raging, violent pleasure surged through him as he looked down at the broken challenger.  He left the arena.  No one stopped him.  There was utter silence.  He was never heard from again, until he arose as the Iron Fist.

He had been searching to experience that place again, and now, thanks to Captain America's skill, he would.   A fire came over the villian, and something awoke in him.  The mighty champion, Captain America, stumbled off, recollecting himself.  The surrounding Marines erupted into cheers at the brilliant move and the prospect of this creep's decimation.  The mighty muscled hero realized he was covered in sweat.  He realized that he was digging deeper into his reserves, deeper then anyone had ever pushed him before.  He found that he was stronger and tougher than he had realized.  This filled him with new resolve, and he turned to face his enemy, confidence building.

What he found facing him was a demon.  The Iron Fist through his fist at the Captain with lighting speed.  Unprepared for this level of ferocity from a stunned enemy, the punch impacted deep into Captain America's gut,  the specially constructed composite Iron    Gauntlets sending concussive waves of devastation through the muscled, concrete-like gut.  Deep, sickening pain assaulted the heros's senses.  If the blow from Iron Fist's shield had hurt, it was nothing compared to taking a punch from that gauntlet.  He knew those punches could kill him.  The massive blow knocks the wind out of the soldier-hero, and propelling him back to impact deep into the wall with a loud


The Captain's mind is filled with white light, and he sees his enemy coming for him as if through a long tunnel. 

He starts to topple forward, but the demonically charged Iron Fist was racing towards him in the wake of that punch, and before the hero had even a millisecond to recover control of his body, the Iron Fist's gauntlet rockets up in an uppercut and catches the brave, invincible hero beneath his chin.  As if in slow motion, the toppling body of Captain America changes direction as first, the head of the hero snaps backwards on his neck, forcing him upwards.  The marines winced, surely to judge by the sick angle as the hero's head snapped back, his neck was broken.  Blood sprays out of the Captain's mouth again as his body hurtles upwards, seeming to gather steam as his head


into the ceiling, then reversing directions again, he falls down to the ground in a heap of hero-muscle and groans at the Iron Fist's feet.  The marines look sick.  Their hero....  this was impossible... this wasn't happening.

The Captain hurt....  deep inside.  Things hurt in his gut, and he coughed up blood from deep inside his wounded body as he clung to consciousness by some miracle he didn't understand.  That gauntleted fist was deadly.  His neck and jaw hurt bad...  His body's recuperative powers were working, he could tell, but he could feel it take a lot out of him.  The well of moxie seemed limitless, but was it?  Something deep inside of him, something primal, began to tremble, as it became clear what this villain was capable of.  Somehow, images of his brothers flashed across his mind.  There was no fear, there was only the certainty of victory, for his brothers he would win.  Looking up, he saw a fist hurtling down towards him.   The fist was meant to kill him.  He whipped his shield out, and the Marines sighed in relief as the Iron Fist's gauntlet clanged into the symbol of America's greatest champion.  To Captain America's horror, the fist dented his shield, and sent a shockwave down his arm that threatened to numb it. 

Strengthened by the sense of horror, the Captain roars and shoves his shield violently forward, sending the Iron Fist flying backwards while he regains his feet.  But the Iron Fist is enraged himself, and his muscle bunches and flows like quicksilver as he raises his fists, and fires shot after shot, hooks and uppercuts and jabs, each one powered by those deadly gauntlets. 

The American champion and soldier-hero flows smoothly, his shield catching each fist, the hero summoning up all his power to endure the rapid fire blows.  The contest continues, the superhuman hero-soldier intercepting each deadly punch with his shield.  But the shield was having it's own problems.  Those gauntlets were deadly, and the shield became more and more dented, rips and tears began to appear in the super steel.  The emblem became distorted and beaten.  Unable to do anything except counter the fists, he was unprepared when suddenly the volley stopped for a ½ a second.  Then, another fist came in while he tried to change gears.  Something was different about this fist...  As it came in, the Iron Fist let loose a loud


And the fist didn't hit knuckle first, but edge first.   The edge of the Iron Fist's hand impacted the very center of they star in the middle of Captain America's mighty shield.  The Iron Fist's brilliant mind was in control.  Every shot, every punch into the shield gave Iron Fist more confidence, a better sense of the special properties of this super steel, until he understood how the Captain's super steel shield reacted to force.  His brilliant fighter's mind processed this input, and came up with just the technique needed to shatter the Captain's shield as if it were a stack of bricks at a martial art's demonstration. 

A wave of force erupted through the shield, and the very symbol of Captain America's might split jaggedly down the middle, falling to either side of the shocked Captain, broken and useless.   The next fist was a wide arcing hook that impacted the massive, bulging, peaked bicep of the Captain's shield arm.  The gauntlet delivered it's devastation to the hero's mighty muscle.  The Captain's body was forcefully thrown sideways, and the muscle rippled, a terrible bruise spreading across the damaged bicep, and the look of sick pain flooding across the Captain let Iron Fist know the shot had done it's job.  The hero had another weak point now to target. 

Struggling to come to terms with the destruction of his shield, Captain America had never questioned it's invincibility, he was not prepared for that blow.  His bulging bicep, steel-hard was hit by the fist as if it were a heat-seeking missile impacting a Battleship's armor.  The bicep ruptured instantly, unable to handle the combination of Iron Fist's deadly strength and deadly gauntlets.  The tearing pain told him he couldn't use that arm for much.   It started to heal quickly of course, but this process would take some time and drained the hero's well of moxie further.   Flying through the air, the hero landed in a heap on the ground.

Emotionally, he was coming apart.  This was a contest he'd never prepared for.  The pain and damage being dished out were at unheard of levels for him.  The only thing that kept him in the fight was his deep drive to honor his fallen brothers.  So much damage dished out to his hero-muscle in such a short time, he was starting to shut down from shock.  He needed to dig deeper, he needed to win this fight.

As he struggled to sit up, it looked like that option was about to be taken away from him.   Iron Fist landed on his chest with a leap, crushing the hero back to the ground.  He struggled to lift his arms, but the grinning villain knelt on him, his fist cocked, beginning to come down, targeting his face.   The surrounding Marines were screaming at him to get up, throw him off, fight, c'mon Cap!!

In a haze, still seeking something deeper to keep in the fight, he started to raise his fists, but then Iron Fist's gauntlet rocketed down, impacting his face with a sickening



Blood spattered everywhere as the invincible hero's nose broke.  So much pain...  The brutal dominance of this thug was overwhelming the hero.  A scream of pain, shock, and rage erupted from the hero.  The intense blow and pain, increased the hero's shock and the sense of falling deeper into a long tunnel overcame him.  He dimly realized never in his life had any force been great enough to break his bones.  As once more his vision focused on his blood, spattering the Iron Fist's yellow spandex.  It was so entrancing...  He noticed, on the edge of unconsciousness another fist beginning it's trajectory, locking onto his face again.  Was this it?  Would the world's only superhero die at the hands of this cruel, insane, vicious thug?   Apparently a thug with a past as an MMA champion, and somehow strength and endurance to match his own.

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