The iron gates of the Ichiki Karate Dojo stood before us like a challenge waiting to be answered. Two guards lounged beside the entrance, their voices carrying across the courtyard as they bragged about their recent victories.
"Did you see Master Kenji's face when he broke that Chinese dog's arm?" the first guard laughed, taking a swig from his bottle. "The way he screamed was music to my ears."
"Master Tanaka was even better," the second replied. "Three schools in one week. These Chinese martial artists are nothing but paper tigers."
I stepped forward, Julian Cross beside me, both of us flanked by the small army of martial artists we'd gathered. The sight of our convoy pulling up had already caught their attention, but they were still too drunk on their own arrogance to understand what was happening.
"Evening, gentlemen," I called out, my voice cutting through their laughter. "We're here to return a favor."
