chapter 6 Wakanda shit is this!​

I block a punch, the air wavering from the impact of two superheated objects striking each other with tremendous force, before I grab the offending appendage, reeling my assailant in and delivering a picture-perfect Spartan kick to his chest, feeling something snap underneath my boot as I sent him flying straight through a couple of trees, before he slams into the trunk of one big enough it would take three of me to circle it.

Standing up from the charred and broken imprint he has made in the old tree, Erik Killmonger straightens with a savage grin on his face, his ribs already healed, his eyes burning with a bright orange light.

We are deep in the jungles of the heart of Africa, having begun travelling immediately after Erik recovered enough from his Extremis-transformation, taking Klaue with us as he is the only one who knows the way.

Sterns has already left a week before we set off, with the Vibranium and our lab equipment stashed inside the truck, travelling like we currently were to the heart of Africa, agreeing to wait for my return in a small town near where I think the borders lie of Wakanda.

It was difficult for me to trust him with the Vibranium, simply standing by as he drove off with billions worth of metal in the back of the truck, but I had no choice, since both he and the Vibranium were no longer safe this close to Johannesburg. The amount of attention I've drawn was once more made clear to me when, before we left, I liquidized as much of Klaue's assets as I could, and within an hour of having made my search for a buyer know, there had been a small army of thugs and spooks on my doorstep, their quick response time only possible if they had been close from the start.

By making sure to stay behind, giving Sterns a head start, I tried to keep all attention on me, which was rather easy to do, considering the kind of deals I was willing to make as long as it transferred all of Klaue's hardware in usable money.

Klaue nearly went mad with rage at me selling his stock that cheap (or at all, for that matter, but doing it this way also targeted his professional pride), but between two super powered people capable of cutting off his limbs with their bare, superheated hands, he held his tongue.

Though he has been steadily cursing me out under his breath every step of the way ever since we left Johannesburg behind us.

"Would you quit that! It's bad enough having you two throw down every chance we get, but we're getting close and I, personally, prefer not to alert the entirety of Wakanda to our approach, by setting their entire fucking jungle on fire!" Klaue yells out, having apparently had his fill with the impromptu spars me and Erik have been having all along the way.

My new brain allows me to learn anything at a terrifying speed which means I'm literally getting better during every fight, while Erik is just happy to test his newfound strength against a worthy opponent (though he's pissed off I'm still stronger by a wide margin, and the fact that he can't reach the same temperatures as me) so its profitable for the both of us.

Though I suspect that Killmonger is also taking this as a chance for revenge as he holds me responsible for the disappearance of all his hard-earned scars.

While I concede to Klaue's warning, as I drop out of my guard and turn away from Erik, I don't let his outburst go by completely unpunished as I walk up to him until I'm chest to face with him, the arms dealer craning his neck to look into my burning eyes.

"Perhaps if you're so scared of discovery, then the next time you have some advice, you give it while keeping your voice down. Understood?"

I keep my glowing eyes on him until he reluctantly looks away, no longer able to meet my gaze.

"Understood."

And with that, we move on in silence, exchanging the scenery of luscious green jungle for, you guessed it, even more luscious green jungle.

I have no idea where Klaue is leading us, and over the next few days of trudging through stifling green, trying not to trip over what feels like every single root tree in the fucking galaxy I begin to suspect that he's tricking us, despite the very graphic threats I delivered when I warned him about doing so (many a white-glowing appendage had been waved around).

I'm proven wrong however, when after what feels like months, stuck inside that godforsaken jungle, out of nowhere Klaue, who is walking in front, nearly guts himself on the spear that is held in front of him.

As he slowly steps back towards us, our little group draws closer, and as I look around I can see several women approach us through the underbrush, most of them moving with enough grace they don't disturb a leaf, and all of them are utterly silent,

I don't know how long they've known we were in their backyard, but given the fact that they have chosen to reveal themselves now makes me believe that we are close to Wakanda itself.

Getting discovered sucked, as I'd much rather sneak in and out of the kingdom undetected, but with how little I knew about it and its defences I hadn't been counting on it.

This would work for my plan just the same.

The woman who nearly allowed Klaue to walk straight into her spear barks out what seems to be a question, to which Killmonger steps up and replies in a clear voice, showing no fear at being surrounded by the warrior-women.

While I can't speak Wakandan (yet) Erik has been teaching me the bare basics of the language, so I can sort of get the gist of the conversation.

It basically boils down to the women wondering what kind of suicidal idiots we are to wonder so close to their territory, while Erik is trying to convince them to let us past, as we are friends to the Wakandan people.

There falls a silence in their conversation when I hear Killmonger say the word that I think translates to 'gift'.

The leader of the squad raises an eyebrow in scepticism, but at least she drops out of her combat stance, letting the butt of her spear rest on the jungle floor as her eyes track Killmonger up and down.

"What gift?" she asks in heavily accented English, and without preamble, Erik jerks his head in Klaue's direction.

"Him."

"What?! You son of a bitch! What the hell do you think you're playing at! I'm going to-"

Klaue is stopped mid-rant by suddenly finding a Vibranium spear tip resting on his Adam's apple.

"You are going to be silent."

Despite the soft tone, the woman's words cannot be mistaken for anything else than an order, and Klaue, with a spear at his throat, simply nods (very carefully as to not cut himself).

Turning her head to look at Killmonger again (though she doesn't remove her spear from Ulysses' neck), the woman seems somewhat intrigued.

"You offer us this man? Why? What worth is he to Wakanda, that you think giving him to us is sufficient payment to allow you safe passage?"

"Because, that's Ulysses Klaue."

It's clear that said arms dealer wants to spit in rage, but he's held back when the woman presses her spear just that little bit closer, drawing a drop of blood as interest now becomes clear in her eyes.

"Is he now?"

As hushed whispers go around the group that has ambushed us, it quickly becomes apparent that Ulysses is somewhat of a celebrity amongst the Wakandan people, though probably not in a very positive manner.

Being one of the very few people who managed to steal from Wakanda and live, as well as evading capture for more than three decades will do that for you.

After an intense discussion with what appears to be her second-in-command, the leader of the group turns back to us, her chin held high as she gives her next order.

"The King shall decide the validity of your gift, and whether or not this man is who you claim him to be. You shall follow us."

/

The Golden City of Wakanda is both impressive and odd.

Probably because of how organic everything appears. Everywhere you look, there's green, and the massive buildings that are towering amongst it all have an almost natural look to it.

Whereas cities like New-York are sometimes described as concrete jungles, this city is in harmony with the jungle instead.

It's difficult to remember we're still on Earth, instead of walking amongst the works of some alien civilization.

Still, as pretty as the Golden City is, I barely have eyes for it.

Instead, all of my attention is focused on the looming Royal Palace, and the technology that is squirreled away in there.

The Panther Habit.

While various members of the group that's escorting us are switched out several times by what appear to be different tribes at different locations within Wakanda, the woman who captured us remains leading us in the front, and is probably responsible for allowing us to be led into the heart of the city so swiftly, armed guards bowing out of her way.

And then we're finally there, walking through the grand entrance of the Royal Palace, armed guards lining the walls, Klaue and the woman in front of me, Erik next to me, and another guard squad behind me.

And at the end of the hall, sitting on his throne, is T'Chaka with T'Challa standing next to him with his arms behind his back, regarding us coolly.

Which contrasts with his father, who's eyes narrow dangerously when he recognizes Klaue.

The arms dealer himself merely lets out a cheeky grin at being confronted by the king of an isolationist country from who he stole literal billions worth of unique metal.

Whatever else he is, Gollum ain't a coward.

As our procession comes to a halt in front of the throne, T'Chaka raises to his full length, as the woman who has captured us kneels in front of him, rapidly recounting in Xhosa how she captured us, and decided to bring Klaue to him as she couldn't verify whether Erik was telling the truth, but if he was, then it was T'Chaka's right as King to pass judgement on the man.

After the women has finished recounting her tale, the King of Wakanda gives a grateful nod, before fixing Ulysses with a stern gaze, though it doesn't seem to have any effect on the weapons dealer.

With slow steps, T'Chaka approaches us, clasping his hands behind his back as he tries to stare the Belgian criminal down.

"Letting you escape is a mistake that has haunted my reign for these last 30 years. It is good to see that this mistake shall finally be corrected, and judgement passed on you, thief."

Klaue grins at the King's speech, his entire air on of nonchalance.

"I'd say nice to see you too, but well… mother did raise me not to lie, so I won't."

I see anger flash across T'Challa's face at the disrespect his father is shown, but T'Chaka is made of sterner stuff, and doesn't even so much as twitch, instead looking at Erik, his gaze softening.

"Thank you, young one, for bringing this criminal to justice. Wakanda and its people owe a great debt to you and your… friend." The king trails off, looking at my massive form.

I'm not worried by the King's scrutiny however as there's something far more attention grabbing going on next to me.

The temperature in the hall is sky-rocketing.

"You, owing me a debt? You don't even know how right you are, murderer."

The moment the word falls from his lips, the guards draw their weapons, while T'Challa snarls in fury, striding towards us with clenched fists and anger in his eyes.

"How dare you?! You have no right addressing my father that way!"

"I HAVE THE ONLY RIGHT!"

And heat explodes from the literally fuming Killmonger, whose sheer rage stops T'Challa and the other guards in their tracks.

"I gained that right, when one night, I find my father, in our house, gutted like an animal! And all that I had to go on, were the claw marks in his body and his notebook talking about Wakanda!"

He reaches around his neck, ripping off the necklace that had been hanging there, showcasing the enormous ring dangling on the end of it, before throwing it at T'Chaka's feet.

"That gives me the right!"

While the other guards and T'Challa look merely confused at the Royal Ring this stranger has just revealed, T'Chaka looks like he's just seen a ghost.

In a way, he has.

"You…" he whispers in a shocked voice, backing away a few stumbling steps as if he can't believe his eyes.

"Say my name, old man. Tell them who I am, murderer. TELL THEM MY NAME!"

In the silence that follows his echoing roar, T'Chaka's wavering reply is heard by all.

"N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu…"

That last name clearly rings a bell with the older generation present, but T'Challa and the younger ones still look confused until their King turns to his son with a mournful expression on his face.

"… your cousin."

While T'Challa seems floored by the revelation, T'Chaka turns back towards Killmonger, who is giving off more and more heat the longer he's staring at the man who killed his father.

"My boy… why have you returned? Why now?"

"I've come to kill the Black Panther. To kill you."

Before he has even fully finished speaking, T'Challa is upon him with an animalistic snarl, kicking Killmonger in the chest with both feet, sending him sliding across the marble floor, though he turns his fall into a springing handstand, landing on his feet again.

"You will not so much as touch him!" T'Challa snarls, as he and his cousin both straighten, eyes fixed on each other with murderous intent.

"I understand your pain, child-"

"You understand NOTHING! You murdered my father!" Killmonger screams at him, his eyes glowing with the Extremis running hot through his veins.

"And in doing so, I killed my own brother, forever staining my hands with the greatest sin imaginable. I lost family too that day. But I am no longer the Black Panther. I now merely rule as King of Wakanda, while my son, T'Challa, has instead taken the mantle of the defender of our people."

As he says this, he places a hand against T'Challa's chest, forcing him backwards as he tries to reason with his murderous nephew.

"My son had nothing to do with your father's death. He has never wronged you; how could he, when he did not even know you exist? Leave him out of our feud, N'Jadaka. He is the protector of our people, and despite what happened between my brother and I, you are still one of ours."

Briefly, Erik seems to take the words of his uncle into consideration, before the hate I've fuelled in his heart with my words and with Extremis cause his rage to come back, and the air starts to shimmer around his body, smoke beginning to rise from his smouldering clothing.

"I'll never be one of yours. You will pay for what you did do my dad. I'm going to kill you."

Again the death threat seems to spur the guards into action, T'Challa even bearing his teeth, but T'Chaka silences all movement in the hall by raising a hand.

Briefly, he closes his eyes, before fixing Erik with a heavy, tired gaze.

"If you kill me, then will your quest for vengeance be completed? Will you leave this land and its people be in peace?"

"Father, you can't! We-"

"AM I NOT STILL KING!?"

At T'Chaka's roar, all protests abruptly halt, silencing the hall once more, before he turns back to Killmonger, who despite his rage, apparently still recognizes the power in the older man's eyes.

"Do I have your word on this? My life, in exchange for your peaceful departure from these lands?"

There's no hesitation in Killmonger's answer.

"Deal."

And with that, he unsheathes his short sword with a metallic ringing noise.

As T'Chaka makes to approach his nephew and executioner, T'Challa stops him in his tracks, whirling his father around to face him, rapidly talking to him in heated Xhosa, but due to its great speed, I only understand the basic gist of it.

"Father, what are you doing?! Your life is worth more than a bargaining chip! The Dora Milaje will escort him out of our borders and then-"

"And then in the next year, or the next five years, or the next ten years? He'll come back, and this time not with a bound criminal as a gift, but with an army at his back, and it'll mean war for Wakanda. I know his kind, he's not one to give up, because we wouldn't either. I cannot defend my people as the Black Panther anymore, but at least as King, in this way I can spare them from the suffering of war."

"Then we kill him and be done with it!"

"My son. Twenty years ago, I killed one of my own kin and that moment has haunted me every day and night since then. Do not be so quick to repeat my mistakes. After today, there shall be no more kinslaying amongst the Golden Tribe."

It's clear that T'Challa wants to rage against his father's plan, but the aged king places a hand on the young man's shoulder, a sad smile on his face.

"I understand your fear and your sadness. I had wished for you to remain free from Kingship for a while, allow you to simply remain the Black Panther while I took care of politics for you. You've always hated them." The king says with a chuckle before continuing.

"But it seems it now cannot be. Our paths diverge from this moment, and no longer shall you be able to simply remain the defender of the Wakandan people, but be their King as well. And yes, that involves politics as well. You shall decide the course of our nation, and there is no doubt in my mind that you shall lead them well. But, you shall do so, without me."

Leaving his son nearly in tears, T'Chaka turns towards the waiting Killmonger, approaching his nephew with calm, measured steps, his entire posture one of unwavering confidence.

This is a man who looks death in the face, squares his shoulders and says 'bring it.'

As he stands in front of the now pacing Killmonger, T'Chaka straightens his jacket for a final time, before lifting his chin, looking Erik straight in the eyes.

"I am ready."

Killmonger lets out a savage grin, the veins around his eyes lighting up with a hellish glow.

"This one is for dad."

"Yes, indeed it is."

And without further ceremony, Killmonger draws back his sword with both hands, T'Chaka closing his eyes, his expression one of peace while Killmonger's is one of hatred, the blade of the soldier's sword slicing through the air, whistling as it comes around in a graceful curve, inching towards the King's neck-

CLANG!!!

-only to be halted in its tracks at the very last moment, sparks flying where a spear is holding the blade at bay, mere inches from T'Chaka's neck, whose eyes fly open in shock.

Standing there next to him, muscles bulging under his ceremonial shirt, the current Black Panther strains against Killmonger's sword-strike.

"You said it yourself father; I am the protector of all Wakandan people. That includes you."

And with that, T'Challa kicks his father in the chest with his heel, sending the man sliding back, Killmonger's heated hand closing into an empty fist where his head had been a mere second ago.

Roaring in rage at his denied kill, Killmonger starts hacking away at T'Challa, who uses the larger reach of his spear to desperately ward off his cousin's attacks, before in a spinning move he slaps Killmonger's blade to the side and out of his hand and ramming the tip of his spear in the opening he has created, the Vibranium weapon easily punching straight through Erik's abdomen, emerging through his back.

"I am T'Challa! Son of T'Chaka! Heir to the Throne of the Golden City and the Black Panther, defender of the Wakandan people! As long as I draw breath, you shall never harm a single one of them!" T'Challa roars at his slumped over adversary, keeping him upright with the weapon he has impaled him with.

There's a lull of silence after the Black Panther's challenge echoes throughout the hall, before it's broken by a soft chuckling. The chuckling keeps increasing until it's full-blown laughter, coming from the shaking, bent over form of Killmonger, which clearly freaks T'Challa out.

Glancing up, Erik lets out a vicious grin, glowing blood staining his teeth.

"Fine by me."

And in a flash, he straightens and kicks T'Challa in the chest. The prince goes flying and hits the ground hard, while Killmonger rips the spear out of his belly, flips it in his hand, and hurls it at the Black Panther. As T'Challa throws himself to the side, the spear pierces the thick marble slabs of the Palace floor and shudders with the impact.Briefly both cousins gaze in each other's eyes, fury and wariness present in equal measure.

Then both let out a roar of defiance and the battle has begun.

/

While all this had been happening, me and Klaue had slowly been backing off, until we stood way at the back of the crowd that had formed, our backs against the wall, completely forgotten in the dynastical drama that had begun to unfold.

"En nu?!" Klaue hisses to me, trying to not draw any attention to us, asking what we're going to do now.

"En nu zorg jij voor een afleiding." I lean over as I tell him he's about to be a distraction, grasping the chain of the manacle that keeps his remaining hand secured to one of our guards, who is far more interested in the yelling match between Killmonger and the royal father and son duo.

"Wat?" but as he asks that the chain is broken due to the melting heat of my hand, and I give him a hard shove that sends him flying towards the exit of the hall. Just as Killmonger and Black Panther start their brawl, one of the Dora Milaje spots him, and with a yell of 'the prisoner is escaping!' charges at him, which causes Klaue to bolt, shooting one last poisonous look over his shoulder at me before he's off, half of the guards inside the palace following him out, the rest completely engrossed with the fight that's happening in front of them.

Perfect.

Making my way around the hall, I reach the area behind the throne, where I can spot where the rest of the Golden Tribe is standing, worry clearly on all of their faces, but it's only one of them I'm interested in.

Ramonda.

And there she is, standing behind the throne, one hand kept on the small form of the still 11-year old Shuri while worrying her lip, watching as her son is doing his best to not get the shit kicked out of him by her murderous nephew (as he isn't a charred corpse yet, he's doing better than about 90% of all beings on earth).

With a few great strides I'm standing next to her, greatly startling both her and her daughter, one of my hands on each of their shoulders (though I have to bend a little to reach the tiny Shuri), gripping them with enough force to show them they have no hope of breaking free, but not enough to make them cry out in pain.

"What-!"

"The labs." I cut her off, walking backwards, taking both of them with me, tightening my grip when it seems they're about to protest.

"Lead me to the Wakandan labs." I explain, only to get a scoff from Ramona.

"There's no way in hell I'm taking you to the laboratory-"

This time I cut her off by slowly increasing the heat in both my hands, quickly reaching uncomfortable levels, though not hot enough to start burning them.

Leaning down between them, I force Ramonda to look into my eyes, which appear like two molten pools of lava, before I slowly open my mouth, letting her show the Balrog-like inferno at the back of my throat.

The message is clear: I can go way hotter.

Glancing at her squirming daughter, Ramonda glares at me with murder in her eyes, before jerking her chin towards one of the numerous exits behind us.

"Follow me."

/

Of course, there are still more guards stationed throughout the palace other than in the hall, and it's clear that the Queen Mother had been counting on that, trusting that I'll find myself suddenly and violently impaled upon their weapons.

Unfortunately for her, I have been spending every day for the last two weeks getting into fights with one of the greatest baseline human combatants on the planet, and every second of every fight was recorded and recalled in perfect clarity by the second most advanced brain on the planet.

That being said, the first guard takes me by surprise.

The very moment we turn a corner in the maze-like belly of the Palace, Ramonda violently rips herself from my grip, taking her daughter to the floor with her in a mad dash. Before I can even comprehend what she is doing, a guard, having apparently heard our approach, jumps out at me from around the corner, swinging his sword around in a wide arc which passes over the floored Royal pair and sending the long blade biting deep into my chest.

Or at least, that's his intention.

Due to being caught off guard within such close quarters, there's no chance for me do dodge or block, so the metal edge of the weapon slices through my shirt and skin with ease, sinking into the raised sternum directly underneath.

And sinking in no further.

Both the guard and me stare wide-eyed at the blade is now stuck in my chest like a demented staple, before our shocked gazes meet. The moment fear rises in his eyes is the moment that terrible haze of anger (which I had pushed down into the depths of my soul, trying to forget its existence ever since the Road Rage incident) rises in mine.

My hands burn white-hot as a snarl that is more animal than man tears itself from my throat, and as the guard falls backward in a desperate move to escape, I shoot forwards, a flaming fist burying itself deep into the man's stomach, crumpling the metal around it and lifting him off his feet.

As the man falls to his hands and knees with a breathless gasp of pain, the sheer anger I feel causing me to growl deep in my chest, a terrible rumbling sound, much like an earthquake. Then, before I can even try to regain control of my baser (and angrier) side of me, I bend down, grabbing the man by his neck-guard and his belt, before effortlessly lifting him above my head.

I know what I'm instinctively about to do before my muscles even tense, but it all happens so fast I'm helplessly to stop it.

Before the shocked eyes of the Queen Mother and her daughter, I slam the palace guard down over my knee, his back breaking with a wet snap. Shuri's scream is suddenly cut off as her mother slams her hand in front of her daughter's wide-open mouth, drawing the little girl closer to her as she looks up at my snarling form in naked fear for the first time.

Fighting my rage down is like trying to swim my way to the surface of a lake of molasses with cinderblocks tied around my feet, it's just so tiring and I feel like giving up multiple times, just let it take control, but with nothing around to fight me anymore, it gradually backs down.

But it's not gone dormant completely; I can still feel it prowling around the back of my mind, just waiting for the next chance to cut loose.

Taking a deep breath, I walk towards Ramonda, who hurriedly shoves the now silent Shuri behind her back, climbing to her feet and gazing at me in defiance, chin lifted high.

I keep walking until were almost chest to chest, before I look down at mine, or more specifically, the weapon that's still stuck in the raised plate of bone that my sternum has become after my first transformation.

When I see her eyes looking at the sword as well, I focus the heat in my chest to increase, the glow of my heartbeat now becoming visible underneath the cloth of my rough shirt.

The blade starts heating up until its glowing white-hot at the place where it's stuck in my flesh and as the metal starts to slowly melt, it slides out of the wound, falling to the marble floor with a clang and a smoking hiss.

Sure, far more painful than just taking it out, but it apparently works as an intimidation tactic on the Royal pair, as Ramonda has her lips pressed together in a thin, nearly non-existent line, while Shuri is staring at me with eyes wide as saucers.

Bending over closer to Ramonda, I growl at her, rage still singing in my glowing veins.

"No more games. No more tricks. The labs, your Highness. Now."

We meet only half a dozen guards on our way to the labs after that.

None of them last longer than ten seconds. While the wave of anger doesn't take over again, it does hurry me along. My muscles are capable of lifting more than three tonnes. Their muscles can resist far less than that.

I don't bother fighting them, or disarming them, simply sending superpowered punches and kicks through whatever defence they try to put up. It's rather like watching someone throw their hands up, expecting for it to help them survive getting hit by a truck.

Maybe some of them survived, but I don't bother to check the broken bodies I leave behind, pushing Ramonda and Shuri along in a hurry. The longer I'm here, the higher the chance of the Wakandans killing Erik or Klaue, which increases the chances of my own discovery significantly.

Finally we reach the labs (I suspect that Ramonda has been taking the long way round) and I finally lay my eyes on that which I have breached one of the most advanced countries in the world for.

Because, right in front of me, is one of the Panther Habits resting on a mannequin.

Leaving the suit (for now), I throw the Queen and her daughter (the small child petrified in silence after seeing me snap the first guard we came across in half over my knee) inside the lab, before approaching one of the multiple terminals that fill the advanced laboratory.

Grasping her bruised shoulder, Ramonda tilts her head high, giving me the coolest, most disapproving look I have ever seen in either life as I navigate the terminal, gathering her crying daughter in her arms.

"Do you honestly think you can get away with this? This laboratory is protected by the most advanced security programs in the world. Even if you were to breach it, the people of Wakanda won't forget the blow you have struck against us today; our War Dogs will hunt you down. There is no place on this Earth that you can hide where they will not find you. They are everywhere. Than could be anyone. You'll never be safe."

"Really? Ulysses seems to have been doing just fine for over three decades before I came along though." I blandly reply, which briefly stuns the Wakandan Queen into silence as I breach the security system and start downloading all of their data onto the heavy duty stick I've taken with me.

"W-What? How did you do that!" Ramonda asks in shock, the idea that her scientists have been outsmarted clearly not something she knows how to deal with.

The answer? Homework.

Or more specifically, spending literal days reading through programming manuals and watching just about every instructional video I could find on the internet. With my ever expanding knowledge about programming came an ever increasing supply of databases that I could access, as my hacking skills increased with every target that I managed to hack which allowed me to hack more difficult targets and so on and so forth.

Combined with a brain that can think about twice as fast as the normal human can, and there was hardly any system that could keep me out.

Finishing my download of all of the information on advanced Wakandan technology that's stored on site, I pocket my trusty stick again, and turn back towards the Panther Habit-

"To hell with you, monster!"

- only to get punched in the face, hard, which sends me flying into the terminal I had just used, it's metal folding around my massive frame.

As I work my jaw, feeling the tooth that had been knocked loose slide around in some superheated blood, I lift my eyes to see Ramonda standing in front of me, her form one of regal confidence and justified anger, wielding those panther-themed gauntlets that Shuri would end up using, though these seem… unfinished, compared to the ones her daughter would wield in five years against Killmonger.

"How does that feel, miscreant? These are Wakandan-made weapons! They shall bring about your fall, swifter than any Stark-weapon ever could!"

And with that, she pulls back one of her arms, before sending her panther-gauntlet at my head again, the blue glow at the front of her hand nearly filling my vision.

Before I catch her punch.

Though I try my best not to show it, doing so had broken nearly every bone in my hand (I bite my own tongue in order not to scream out in pain), but seconds after the impact, they are already rapidly healing, which causes my hand to heat up immensely.

I can feel that darker side of me rising up in anticipation, but I desperately fight to stay in control of my actions, my respect for Bruce Banner rising to immense new heights.

He had to deal with something far worse than this on a daily basis, and yet managed to work in third-world countries as a doctor, spending his time helping people, which can't have been the most stress-free job environment.

It was honestly a miracle we weren't all dead yet.

Glaring at the Wakandan Queen, I swirl my tongue around in my mouth for a moment, before spitting out my tooth to the side, the blood sizzling against the metal floor the moment it lands.

"W-What?" Ramonda briefly seems stunned, before she recollects herself masterfully, and with a controlled expression of ice-cold rage sends her other gauntlet towards my side, aiming for my liver.

Having learned from my newfound experience, I catch this punch by the plating around her forearm, instead of meeting her attack head on. Rising from the wreckage of the computer, I loom over the fuming Queen, and start crushing the metal of her weapons underneath the strength of my hands.

"Trust me, your Highness. You don't hold a candle to someone like Stark. You managed to make these after years of access to one of the most versatile materials on the planet, using a lab others have made for you over the span of hundreds of generations. He made the Arc Reactor, the greatest piece of technology any human has ever produced, in a cave."

Finishing my rant, I raise both my hands, forcing hers up as well, until she's struggling to remain standing on the tips of her toes.

"What's your next move, my Queen? You're out of options." I rumble, but Ramonda's eyes simply flash in defiance.

"Not entirely."

And with that, she twists her hips, sending her leg flying forwards, and as close to me as she is, her aim is true: it comes crashing straight into my family jewels. Pain explodes in my nether regions as my gut gives a violent twist. With a pained grunt, I let go of her arms, sinking to my knees as I try to blink away the stars in my vision.

Extremis kicks in almost immediately, soothing the pain, but before I can recompose myself, Ramonda has taken advantage of my temporary weakness, and sent her gauntleted fist crashing into the sweet spot on my chin, knocking my head back as I nearly bite the tip of my tongue off.

Still reeling from those blows (had I still been a normal human, they would've been enough to floor me) I'm too slow to defend myself against her next attack, and briefly my vision is filled by a purple glow before her mangled (but clearly still functional) gauntlet slams into my face and I can feel my nose breaking with a spurt of lava-like blood.

As I'm bent over, blood flowing from my smashed nose, the Queen rears back for another punch, but by then the roaring anger inside my mind has become unbearably loud, so once more I allow myself to lose control.

Right as her glowing Vibranium gauntlet descends towards my face, I turn towards her with an animalistic growl leaping from my chest. In that same twisting motion, my left arm comes round in an arc, crashing into the side of her gauntlet, slapping it to the side. Simultaneously, I heat up my right hand, and before her daughter can even let out a wail of horror, slash it across Ramonda's throat, the cauterized wound smoking as the woman stumbles back, shock written across her face.

As Black Panther's mother collapses to the floor, her daughter runs at me with a grief-filled wail, tiny fists raised in a futile gesture, before I grab her by the throat, and lift her up, her feet dangling several feet above the floor as she keeps struggling.

My attention shifts from the dying Queen to her crying daughter, but the moment my gaze lands on her, I rail against the all-consuming haze in my mind with a horrified roar, powering through the lethargic feeling from before, desperation fuelling me. Killing children is a line that I shall never, ever cross, not even when someone else is in the driver's seat, so to speak.

If the dark manifestation of the rage inside me is surprised by my sudden fighting spirit, it doesn't show it, and as it slowly backs down, all that I'm getting from it is a sort of disgruntled sensation.

The moment I'm fully in control again, I let the struggling Shuri fall to the floor with a shocked gasp. My breathing is hurried, but I ruthlessly try to suppress the panic that it threatening to rise up within me.

As I'm bent over, hands on my knees, trying to control my breathing, I look up at the soft crying sounds the little princess is making, seeing that she's abandoned her short-lived attack on me and instead has crawled over to her fading mother, cradling the Queen's head in her lap, all the while calling out to her to not leave her in between her sobs.

Ramonda raises a trembling hand towards her daughter's tear-stained cheek, caressing it softly with a shaky smile, before the expression slowly fades away, her gauntleted hand falling to the grating of the laboratory with a metallic clang.

And just like that, Ramonda, Queen Mother of Wakanda, is no more, leaving her crying daughter behind, cradling her corpse.

Briefly I consider what to do with the distraught princess before I settle on just knocking her out cold with a soft tap to the head. Stepping towards the kneeling little girl, she looks up slowly at me, tears filling her eyes. Then her face twists with the most hatred I have ever seen someone display, her lithe form shaking with barely contained rage.

"I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna grow strong. And then I'll kill you."

For a moment, I just stare at the young Shuri, seeing the burning hate within her gaze, before my expression softens somewhat as I go down on one knee, bringing our eye-levels closer together, lifting a hand and holding it in front of her forehead.

To her credit, she doesn't shrink away, nor even do so much as flinch, instead just staring at me with that murderous look in her tear-filled eyes.

"I believe you."

And with that, I flick her in her head, causing her head to snap back, her eyes rolling back into her head as she slumps down next to her mother, unconscious (I know, I checked).

Stepping over the Royal mother and daughter duo, I walk towards the Panther Habit, ripping it off its mannequin and quickly shoving it inside my backpack.

With that, I turn my back on the science wing and start making my way to another part of the Palace I had passed on my way to the labs, its smell immediately catching my attention.

I think I found the location of the Heart-Shaped Herb.

/

There are hardly any people near the gardens and only two guards on opposite ends of a walkway, though they're clearly nervous at all of the commotion that is happening in and around the Palace.

Since stealth isn't really an option (not that I'm in a mood to try it anyways) I instead decide to run up to the guard closest to me, and just as he turns around with an alarmed shout, spear raised in defence, my hand shoots forwards, smashing through the wooden base like it's a tooth pick, and grabbing the man by his breast-plate, the metal buckling underneath the strength of my grip.

By that time, the second guard is approaching us in a run, spear lowered in an attacking position, a roar on his lips.

Which is when I throw the guard in my hand straight into him, sending both to the ground with an almighty crash, either knocking them out or killing them (I neither feel the need, nor have the time to check on which it is).

Now unopposed, I finally lay my eyes on one of the most bullshit power-ups in this universe for the first time.

The Herb itself is very odd to look at, the soft purple glow somewhat off-putting. It's all fine and dandy to see glowing stuff that you know has been made with CGI on the big screen in the cinema, it's another matter entirely to see something in real life that's glowing, especially when it has no business doing so.

Still, I quickly rip a few bushels from the ground and stuff them inside my back-pack as well.

I briefly contemplate ingesting one of the leaves right now (or why even stop at one? Why not eat this entire garden like some demented goat? Wouldn't that make me even stronger?) but since I don't know how long the acid-trip will take once I do, while being defenceless for the duration of its mystic effects, I quickly decide that I should get the hell out of dodge first before trying.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I briefly gaze around the Royal Garden, the glowing flowers swinging softly in a peaceful little breeze. Tens of thousands of years of staunch tradition had been based around the mystic powers of these plants. To the Wakandans it represents a link to their earliest history, the land they currently live in and the land they will end up after they die.

To me, it's a liability.

Given how many people will want my head after killing the Queen, I can just imagine several people ingesting the leaves for its power in their quest for revenge.

That's just proper narrative at work there.

Besides that though, if my plans work out then Wakanda will end up exposed to the world at best or destabilized at worst. In either case, the outside world will know about the Herb and its powers, and every single spook, criminal or even ordinary citizen will fantasize about being on the same level as the iconic Captain America.

Briefly a horrifying image passes in front of my mind, of Hydra-labs with fanatics being enhanced with the leaf, breeding an army of supersoldiers, or the Fingers, unbelievably dangerous already after spending so many lifetimes in the shadows, now with even more dangerous enhancements, an Alexandra unburdened by the failing of her body or the fear of true death looming over her.

Taking a deep breath (literally), I set all of it on fire.

Getting out of the chaos that has become the Golden City (it seems that Klaue has managed to set off bombs or something, as parts of the city are on fire, while judging by the sounds of battle coming from the palace, the fight between Killmonger and Black Panther is still going strong) is easier than I had feared it would be.

In all of the disorder, people have abandoned their vehicles, and I jump on the nearest bike I can find, its frame groaning underneath my weight but thankfully holding. With a roar of the engine (a sound lost amongst the cacophony of noise that is the distressed city) I blast off towards the jungle, not slowing down for people, obstacles or even when I enter the jungle itself.

I don't plan on stopping until Wakanda is way behind the horizon.

/

It had taken two days of running away from Wakanda like the Devil was on my heels (the bike ran out of fuel after four hours of going at top speed), but I finally managed to burst from the stifling jungle, finding myself on a dirt road that seemed to trail off into a tiny little collection of hovels way off into the distance.

Meeting up with Sterns is surprisingly easy; he has the only motorized vehicle in this little town in the middle of nowhere. What's really surprising though, is that he seems to now hold a rather high position within the village's hierarchy, something like a medicine man after treating a wave of illness that struck its people.

Walking through the low-tech rural village, I make my way towards the biggest house there, the truck parked next to it like some massive metal steed come from the future. The villagers look at me with weariness in their eyes, quickly getting out of the way of my massive form, but they don't seem to fear me completely.

Seems like Sterns has been telling the local populace about me then.

Entering the house of what is either the chief or the Mayor of this little town, ducking my head in order to not make a hole in the tiny doorframe, I lay my eyes on my partner in crime for the first time in more than three weeks.

He doesn't seem all that happy to see me.

Glancing from me to the man sitting next to him, Sterns leans over, saying a couple of softly whispered words, prompting the man (chief? Mayor? Warlord?) to give a nod, rise from his seat and walk outside, ducking around my form still standing in the door opening.

Regarding me with an unreadable expression on his face, Sterns gestures towards the now vacant seat. Somewhat tense at the silent treatment the scientist is giving me (not that I had expected hugs or anything, Sterns and me were more accomplices than real friends, but his cool demeanour was setting me on edge) I take the seat, placing my trusty backpack between my booted feet.

After a brief silence, Sterns is the one to start talking.

"For a while there I thought either Klaue had left you to get lost in the jungle, Killmonger completely flipped and tried to kill you or Wakanda found a way to actually kill you."

I can't even tell whether he's satisfied at that not happening or disappointed, so I just shrug.

"Klaue kept his word, oddly enough, and Erik managed to keep it together until we were inside El Dorado itself."

"And yet there's a rather glaring lack of either person present."

"Last I saw, Killmonger was kicking the shit out of Wakanda's prince and protector, and Klaue was running off with half their military might behind him. They'll be fine."

At my explanation, Sterns raised an surprised eyebrow (which combined with his enormous forehead gives for some rather… interesting effects).

"Any reason for you not currently sitting on the throne there?"

It wasn't that I hadn't thought about conquering Wakanda for myself. But I was a white mutant, which means that I would never be accepted by their populace and have to spend much of my time either ruling or swatting down rebellions.

My Twelve Step Program (though by now the amount of Steps had more than doubled) also required me to remain mobile, which was impossible if I was King of a country with the intention of actually staying its King.

But the thing that had convinced me the most that I should just leave Killmonger to raise hell in there and probably unleash a civil war, was the fact that it would inevitably reveal the country to the world.

Organizations as S.H.I.E.L.D. had been aware of Wakanda's true nature for years already, but the more public agencies (CIA, Interpol, UN and the like) still had no idea.

The moment they found out there was a country that was decades ahead of the rest of the world?

People would be screaming for open borders and global trade faster than you can say 'Vibranium'.

Wakanda would refuse of course, prompting everyone to immediately ignore their protests and send in their covert groups in to acquire their tech (while grinding Wakanda down with diplomatic bullshit), which would cause Wakanda to kill them, causing international tensions.

Organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D. would be so busy averting World War 3 I could basically continue with my plans unopposed, completely forgotten in the grander scheme of things.

That was the idea, at least.

"The throne looked very uncomfortable. 'Sides, I'm a wanderer at heart: sitting on one chair for the rest of my live just sounds horrible. I'd much rather just travel around the world, you know? See the sights, meet new and interesting people, steal their artefacts, beat the shit out of their protectors, that kinda thing."

Sterns's face remains completely unresponsive in the face of my blatant lie, before he frowns slightly ('slightly' of course being a subjective term in his case, as his eyebrows drawing together caused the facial equivalent of tectonic plates shifting).

"During the time that I've hung around you, I have turned into a mutant, have seen you come back to base shot up and burned, have seen men go up in flames and explosions, and have more guns pointed in my direction than I had ever wanted in my life."

The small hut is filled with an oppressive silence after the scientist's rant, with him staring intently at me, while I'm just tensing my muscles underneath my shirt in preparation for a fight.

Suddenly the tension is drained away as Sterns lets out a mischievous grin.

"So, where are we going next?"

At my incredulous expression, Sterns just snorts in amusement.

"In half a year, I have seen the borders of known science advanced by decades. My brain has reached levels of understanding I couldn't even have dreamed of before, because I simply didn't possess the computing power to even comprehend such levels. If you think I'm backing off now, then you got another thing coming: I'm going to see this through Mr. McCole."

Briefly I feel stunned at my accomplice's words, before I hesitantly put my hand out towards him.

"Partners then?"

Without hesitation, the smaller man grips my hand in a firm handshake, determination written across his face.

"Partners."

I'm more moved than I thought I would, but my new and improved brain quickly provides me with an explanation: as of right now Sterns is the first friend I've made in this universe.

As a child I was completely focused on preparing myself for my Plan, dedicating myself to mastering engineering and programming since Phase One of the MCU was centred so much around Iron Man, making me forgo making connections with other people.

Even during the execution of the Program I had only ever seen other people, including Sterns, as chess pieces, pawns for me to use in order to increase my own power, until there was no force in the universe that could ever harm me.

Until now.

Shaking myself from my contemplations, I let out a grin, opening my backpack.

"You know, I brought a souvenir for you."

"Really? Of all things I had expected from a nation like Wakanda, a gift shop hadn't been one of them."

Grinning at his joke, I withdraw the Panther Habit, and place it on the rough wooden table in-between us. Sterns's eyes widen in amazement at the suit, running nimble fingers across the woven material with an exited look on his face.

Before he can say anything about the advanced suit in front of him, I place my stick on top of the suit. At his questioning look I explain with a grin.

"All of the data I could snatch from the Wakandan labs. That right there, doctor, now has some of the most advanced human technology on the planet stored inside. Enjoy."

"That's some gift shop…" Sterns mutters to himself in awe, before he looks at the Heart-Shaped Herb bushels that I withdraw from my back-pack, one eyebrow raised as I start plucking the glowing leaves (which still freaks me out, by the way).

"This is what makes any ordinary man capable of taking on a Erskine-level enhanced human by just eating a single leaf. So, I'm going to eat all of the leaves. However, due to its mystical properties, I'll probably go into a deep meditative state, so I couldn't ingest it while still in Wakanda."

Hearing the scientist scoff at the mention of magic, I can't help but grin, thinking about the feats displayed by Doctor Strange, who arguably gave the best showing against Thanos amongst all non-god beings (though Iron Man himself fought the Titan with such sheer awesome the Galactic Overlord himself complimented him).

"Do not be so quick to dismiss Magic, Doc. There are species out there who are so advanced that Magic and Science have become indistinguishable from one another, like in the case of the Asgardians. In fact, I'm suspecting that Vibranium itself isn't a naturally occurring material at all. It's properties are something truly unique, and given the mystical element it possesses I'm thinking that the chunk that fell to Earth so long ago instead comes from such an advanced civilization."

That would explain a lot, especially given Wakanda's enormous leaps in technological advancement after finding the miracle metal. Despite the incredible difficulty shaping the kinetic-absorbing metal into complex shapes, Wakanda had gone from wielding sticks and stones to overtaking the European Industrialisation, completely skipping several fundamental steps.

But since its mystic properties apparently included talking to deceased forefathers, there was a possibility that echoes from its original creators seeped through enough through the Astral Plane in order to give them the necessary knowledge. It would also explain the alien feel that El Dorado had to it, if its citizens were influenced by hyper-advanced aliens on a subconscious level.

During my musings, I've finished plucking all of the leaves (around 40 to 50 in total) and gather them in my massive hands in a little heap.

Sterns regards me warily, still mulling over what I had just told him, rubbing his chin as he looks at the glowing, mutated leaves in my hands.

"How are you-"

CHOMP!

"What is wrong with you!? You just don't put glowing foreign plants inside your mouth like that! What if you turn out to be allergic!"

"Ethrmith."

"What?"

Quickly swallowing the leaves down (ugh, so bitter. And… metallic?) I repeat myself.

"Extremis. Even if the leaves have adverse effects on me, I'll survive it."

Briefly looking at me completely gob-smacked, Sterns eventually throws his hands up in the air with a huff of despair, before grabbing the Panther Habit and the stick from the table and making his way outside.

"Just… just lie on the table and try not to die, I guess. Honestly, some people…" the scientist continues muttering as he walks away, grumbling under his breath at my rash actions.

"Sterns!" I call out to him, and as he turns back towards me with a questioning expression on his face I'm overcome with doubt.

Should I tell him about the darker side of me which has been rearing its ugly head more often lately? We just shook on being partners, yes, but do I trust him with this? Can I trust him with something that I barely dare to acknowledge myself?

Yes, I was willing to go to incredible lengths in order to make myself untouchable, but losing my mind was not a sacrifice I was willing to make.

"… Thanks. For wanting to be my friend. I… I haven't really had any, before."

I can tell that Sterns knows that isn't what I was about to say, but after a pause he apparently decides to let it go, just giving me a smile.

"Sure thing Michael. Now go lay on the damned table and try not to burn us all in the worst case of fever in human history, got it?"

And with a laugh he's gone, leaving me chuckling to myself inside the chief's hut.

Getting up, I lie down on the rough table (which groans worriedly as I do, but I don't crash down immediately, so it's all good), fold my hands on my stomach and close my eyes.

Darkness fills my vision as I feel the world steadily falling away, before I feel like I'm floating in a great void, swirling around in an all-encompassing nothingness. Briefly I fear that I've overdosed or something, but before panic can set in (it's only then that I realize all my emotions have been muted) the darkness starts solidifying around me, for a lack of a better word.

Time is utterly meaningless when there's nothing around to experience it, and only after what feels like an eternity, the blackness around me had finished shifting enough that I feel ground underneath my feet.

Which brings my attention back to the fact that I actually have a body again.

Glancing down at what I suspect is my astral projection, I'm extremely confused.

It's my body.

My original body.

The one from my first life, where this place was nothing more than a scene on the silver screen in my local cinema.

But it's off.

It's recognizable as a human body, physically there's nothing wrong with it (other than some slight chubbiness around the middle), but the angles are… wrong. Like the breaking of an image when seen through the surface of water, or through a lens or something, only deepened in a dimension I can't really put my fingers on.

Studying it for too long makes me feel dizzy, so I shake my head and look in front of me.

Where I can see an enormous, swirling form made of smoke, two violet stars of light glaring down at me from a height stories above me, the power (and anger) unmistakeable.

There's no change in its facial expression (for all that it really has a face to speak of, with it being a smoking manifestation and what not), but as it speaks the very air reverberates with its words.

"PLANEWALKER. YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE. YOU HAVE TAKEN THAT WHICH WAS NEVER MEANT FOR YOU." Bast, the Panther God, who is responsible for leading Wakandan souls to the afterlife and who guided Bashenga into becoming the First Black Panther, speaks to me, hear words slamming into my brain with an almost physical weight to them.

And she sounds pissed.

"Well. Shit."

/

AN: So. Step 9 is finally nearing completion as Stein is now going through the Wakandan tech in order to learn how to use Vibranium for our own ends. Step 10... is in progress. Some unexpected obstacles have turned up. Completion might turn out to be... problematic.

Fun Fact: One of the features of the early Iron Man suit used to be rollerskates.