get things(4/5 skip)

A man dressed in a black jacket with his face concealed by a hooded mask was carefully making his way toward the apartment building. This man was Eric, on a mission to retrieve the remaining belongings of his late father. As he approached the entrance, he glanced around, ensuring that no one was watching before he slipped inside.

Eric's POV

Now standing in front of the door to my father's room, I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. The weight of the mission ahead was palpable. I pushed the door open slowly, the creak of the hinges breaking the silence of the dimly lit hallway. The interior was shrouded in shadows, the faint light from the streetlamp outside barely penetrating the gloom.

Once inside, I closed the door with a soft click behind me. The room was cloaked in a thick layer of dust, the remnants of neglect and secrecy. The once-polished wooden floorboards were now dull and coated in grime. The air was heavy with the scent of old papers and forgotten memories. My footsteps echoed softly as I began my search.

The task before me was to locate and gather the various items my father had hidden away. I started in the study, a room lined with shelves burdened under the weight of old, leather-bound books and scattered files. My fingers traced the spines of these books, searching for anything unusual. I found a few dusty tomes and began rifling through their pages, only to be disappointed.

Next, I turned my attention to a concealed compartment behind a bookcase. I pulled it open to reveal an assortment of weapons—guns, knives, and a bulletproof suit, each meticulously cleaned and carefully stored. There was also a grenade, its metal casing cold and heavy in my hands. I methodically packed these items into my storage ring, an enchanted artifact that could hold far more than its outward appearance suggested.

The search took me through every room of the apartment: the bedroom, where I sifted through the closet and beneath the bed, and the kitchen, where I checked inside cabinets and the pantry. Each location revealed something new—more documents, some of which I skimmed quickly, knowing they might contain valuable information.

As I worked, I pondered why the police hadn't discovered these items. The room, though neglected, should have been inspected thoroughly. My mind wandered to recent events. The case had been unusually swift and quiet. I realized that the intervention of Wakanda's king must have played a significant role. It seemed he had used his influence to prevent a thorough investigation, ensuring that the house remained untouched and the police disinterested.

After 20 minutes of intense searching, I finally gathered all the critical items. The room, now significantly emptier, seemed to hold its breath in resignation. I took one last look around, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. Everything had gone too smoothly, and the quick resolution of the case only deepened the mystery. As I prepared to leave, the weight of the unknown lingered, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story than met the eye.

As I walked outside, leaving the apartment, I made my way towards a nearby alley. I turned around and said, "Why don't you come out? I know you're following me." It took a second, and then a man emerged from the shadows. He had curly hair and wore a t-shirt that looked casual, almost like a thug's attire, but I knew better. He was one of Wakanda's operatives, someone I had seen with my father on a few occasions.

There was no way the king would leave the house unattended, and I suspected this was part of the larger plan to ensure nothing went unnoticed. The man didn't say anything but moved toward me with a purposeful stride. I could sense his intent; this was not a casual encounter.

He threw a punch with surprising speed. I blocked it with my forearm, feeling the force of his strike reverberate through my muscles. I didn't immediately counter, choosing instead to gauge his strength and skill. He was relentless, attacking with a series of precise, calculated moves. I responded in kind, parrying his blows and sidestepping his attacks, trying to get a read on his fighting style.

The fight escalated quickly. He used a combination of quick jabs and powerful hooks, interspersed with strategic kicks aimed at destabilizing me. I blocked his kicks with my shins and deflected his punches with my forearms. My own responses were deliberate and measured, focusing on defense and observation.

After a few minutes, I decided it was time to shift tactics. I launched a counterattack with a flurry of rapid strikes. I delivered a series of punches aimed at his torso, each one precise and powerful. My first punch landed squarely on his chest, making him stagger back. I followed up with a swift kick to his knee, causing him to buckle slightly. Before he could recover, I executed a sharp chop to his neck.

The sequence of moves was executed with such speed and precision that he had no chance to react. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, his body going limp. I looked down at him, recognizing this as my opportunity to gather more information about Wakanda and their operations. However, I had to be cautious. I didn't want to leave any traces that could lead them back to me or give them a reason to track my movements.

I made the decision to leave him behind. The alley was now eerily quiet, the only sounds being the distant hum of city traffic and my own breathing. I glanced at the unconscious man on the ground and took one last look around the alley. With a final assessment of the surroundings, I started to leave, my mind already planning the next steps.

I moved through the night, constantly changing my appearance as I walked through different parts of the city. I adjusted my clothing and altered my demeanor to blend in with various crowds. I kept a sharp eye out for any signs of pursuit, knowing that Wakanda's reach was extensive and that they might try to track me down.

As I disappeared into the labyrinth of city streets, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The confrontation with Wakanda's operative had been a stark reminder of the intricate web of secrets and power .

Each step I took away from the alley was a step deeper into a world of shadows and intrigue, a world where every corner might hold a new threat or a crucial piece of the puzzle. The night was far from over, and I was determined to survive, no matter where it led me.

...

Author's pov

mc Don't wants to destroy wakanda

Next there will be timeskip till carol comeback