Chapter 18: Wakanda Forever, Nevermore

Chapter 18: Wakanda Forever, Nevermore.

For those that want early access and voting on my stories, I have a patron, same username.

Warning for some slight heavy stuff in this chapter. People die, and other people mourn, and shit goes down.

Also warning: Politics here aren't real, purely made up for the story, don't read into it. It's made up. I'm not American. I have no horse in that race, so no one go too crazy now.

Even Justin has a heart it seems, or at least a conscience.

And he still excels in making enemies for himself. Which will surely not bite him in the ass down the road.

Anyway as usual, I don't own Marvel, the Avengers, X-Men or anything from Disney and etc, etc.

Hope you enjoy.

＊＊＊

May 4th, New York, the Hilton.

"I can't believe they scheduled congressional elections on May the fourth." Justin muttered, watching on the news as the first predicted ending polls were being discussed.

As he didn't have a proper headquarters in New York, he was once again forced to settle for the top penthouse suite at one of New York's hotels.

His business was thrumming along at full speed and with great effect, Sunil's work in Cairo combined with the influx of working people - was greatly speeding up the more simple projects like building up the road network across the continent.

He'd already begun with efforts to reclaim the desert. For once, it was not Vanko's designs that assisted with the process.

He'd taken some of what he'd seen of Vanko's work, and applied it to large vehicles, like trucks and excavation vehicles, making them into drones, using arc reactors instead of engines to give that extra oomph, with tracks instead of wheels - also saving an absolute fortune in gas expenses.

They were removing a ridiculous amount of sand, and since sand was used in the process to make silica, further moving it onto silica wafers used for microchips, he was even making this process into a business.

Everyone needed microchips after all.

Of course, there was a reason people didn't use Saharan sand and its resources for silica wafers. In a word - it was too dirty.

Compared to the sand from beaches there were more contaminants like iron amongst the particles, that made them unsuitable for both fine and industrial glass, and for silica wafers.

It was also eroded by wind instead of water which created other issues, like making the grains of sands too smooth. It also lacked the necessary quartz component ideal for silicon for similar reasons.

Justin simply went the extra expensive step of creating factories that processed the sand, before distributing the sifted and treated particles to factories around it, who'd make industrial strength glass from it.

He had other factories concerned with making wafers for microchips, mixing in some of the ingredients necessary for the process with the sand, and crafting the sand necessary for the silicon conversion. All mostly automated, even if so far only a third of the facilities were even built, the sand extraction moving at snail pace until the factories were built up properly.

Prohibitively expensive to do in the African desert or anywhere else really, unless the entire sand gathering workforce was basically arc powered drones, meaning no gas costs, no human cost - except for the staff overlooking the process and the maintenance and cleaning staff ensuring the trucks kept running after a day in the desert.

Same with the automation in the factories, overlooked by a computer and maintenance team, severely limiting costs after the initial outlay. No one else could realistically afford to do this in conventional manners, but he could and had the means, so it was getting done, slowly.

So he was cleaning out the desert one truck at a time, making room for an eventual takeover process of the cleared areas via forestation or habitation, while also making a bundle on turning that sand into money via glass and silica wafers.

The press was absolutely loving him for his 'environmental' work.

But then they always loved him now.

Something he'd used to tie a lot of potential Congress members to his interests. Normally, he'd be all for ushering in more of the old guard, as they were easily bought. The problem of course was that they were easily bought.

He had no use for men and women who'd take his 'gift' and turn around and vote against his interests a few months later after finding some nice gifts from someone else.

Whores should stay bought.

So he had both openly, and more covertly, been pushing for some young guns to enter the race. Harder to control, but bustling with the wish for change - and nothing spoke of change at the moment like Justin Hammer and Hammer industries. All of which neatly ensured they'd protect his interests from whatever remains of the old traditional members that managed to get in.

There would always be some, the south wouldn't vote for anything else. They were predictable to the extreme, hence why no politician bothered to ever say anything new down there, just shouting about immigrants over and over again.

There was a reason Justin preferred to stay away from there. He couldn't stand willful ignorance.

Domino chortled, juggling some citrus fruits in apparent boredom, "Must make you feel good with so many of your 'young' political proteges signing off with - may the force be with you - before going to the polls." She teased.

She had been laughing at him all morning, because everytime he heard that idiocy, he twitched.

Justin twitched irritably, again. "It was moronic, they need to appeal to the older crowd, not enough younger people vote, they already have that locked in just by age and good looks." He grumbled, annoyed as always when catching people at incompetence. At least when it was people nominally on his side, catching enemies at incompetence was, as always, delicious.

"A republican supermajority in Congress is going to make things… Interesting." Sunil spoke up dryly over conference call, the time difference made no difference, he was always on duty.

Justin had a few prospects now for people to fix his AI deficiency, and Sunil was hunting them down, he should get the man another dozen assistants or something.

"Blame the fears from Wakandan stupidity on that." Justin said, not necessarily opposed in theory, Warhawks were good for business after all. Especially the weapons business.

The problem lay in the fact that sometimes they literally picked their hill to die on - and would refuse to be moved no matter if the apocalypse was forthcoming, which didn't make them reliable.

Not fully.

Again - see the south.

A younger Congress would hopefully somewhat alleviate that, allowing Justin to sway them his way without being obvious about it. Republicans loved the war industry and big business… To a certain extent.

Justin would have to keep it that way. Or Ellis would be using a lot of vetoes.

If only Tony Stark could start making some sense, then this last month or two would have been almost perfect.

He had been out of his cave for two months now, a month earlier than he was supposed to be, sure, but still, he had the time to get going already.

So why was the asshole not flying around in his suit yet!?

Stark industries was busy trying to expand, while dealing with the logistics problem he'd created. Neither of which should take Tony away from his suit this long - isn't that what he had Jarvis, Stane and Pepper for?

Why hadn't he gone to Gulmira? It was still a terrorist plagued hellhole! Didn't Yinsen care? Why weren't they doing anything?

It was frustrating the hell out of Justin.

They were only a few months away from Thor and Iron Man 2, and Tony still wasn't Iron Man, not that there even was a Stark Expo this time around. Stark industries for some reason didn't think they'd be very impressive with recent events, he assumed.

No more thinking on Tony, or I'll never get anything done. He decided, turning back to the present.

"What's the progress in Cairo like, Sunil?" He asked, idly watching as the news continued to predict a landslide Republican victory due to Democrats being perceived as weak on the military and war efforts.

Mostly helped along by some serious gaffes by various black liberals trying to lessen the hate on for Wakanda - political suicide to anyone with a brain - yet they'd still stood to their principles.

It would cost them now, for the first time in Justin's memory, people weren't voting exclusively in their normal locked down affiliations, like their dad before them and grandfather before that, etc.

Sunil sounded almost cheerful, as he responded, "Going splendidly, sir. Miss Munroe is a delight to work with, her efficiency and charisma is moving UNESCO into the hearts and minds of everyone here, and by far, the Metahuman approval rating is ticking higher by the minute."

Hearts and minds and probably cocks, Justin thought amused, Storm wasn't hard to look at, and a whole generation of Africans were likely in love. "Keep giving her a long leash, I don't really care what she and her team is doing as long as it's good PR." He ordered, he hardly needed to micromanage Storm, she believed this was mutants one chance to come out as something benevolent, she wouldn't risk fucking with Hammer industries at this point in time.

Neither was she the type, most of Xavier's people too good for their own good - and not at all likely to backstab an ally.

As far as UNESCO went, it was all his down to the core now. Unsurprisingly, the funding and effort to rebuild UN operations and staff was almost non-existent, as every major power focused on the Vibranium gold rush.

At this point, Justin doubted the United Nations would even return to its former state at all.

"And the state of our operations in Africa?" He queried next, keeping his mind busy and getting a feel for how things were progressing.

"Red tape is practically non-existent as the leaders of each respective country are doing everything in their power to accommodate us at the moment." Sunil said confidently, "Our operations are only slowed down by the lack of infrastructure in some of the countries we are operating in, as soon as we get them up to snuff, projections have us two months ahead of schedule."

Justin chuckled, pleased with the news. "For all the miracles we've created, from clean energy to Panacea, large infrastructure projects finishing ahead of time, might be the biggest of them all."

Elena walked in just then, a frown on her pretty face, "Sir, your request for Phantazia to return was denied." She reported.

Justin turned his head slowly towards her, "Excuse me?" He said, not sure if he heard that correctly.

"She sent back a short reply stating that she was going to finish out her entire leave of absence, we also received a message from Magneto." Elena said, Domino sitting up straighter, a frown on her face now as well.

Phantazia was a workaholic, either the Mystique issue was more complex than they had ever imagined - or something weird was going on.

Justin was willing to bet on weird. It was always weird.

Justin rubbed his brow, always has to be something, he lamented. "Well what is his message?"

Elena pursed her lips, anger flashing in her eyes, "Denied." She said, "That is it."

"Of course, very informative." Justin muttered, wondering if it was even worth pursuing right now. He had so many irons in the fire as it was, if Phantazia was in trouble, could he even get her out?

Can't expect them to be loyal if I am not… He thought with disquiet, she's been steadfast for over two years… He glanced at Domino who looked unusually non-cheerful for her. There's also the problem of losing others loyalty as well if I hesitate.

"Elena, Sunil, start pouring over all the information we have on the Brotherhood and their whereabouts, I'll talk to Xavier…" He made a noise of disgust, "And ask him for a favor." Justin said, annoyed at the interruption to a simple day watching America's future change almost irrevocably.

"Sunil, start equipping our security with the plastic weaponry… Just in case, and someone notify Vanko."

The man had some anti-Magneto ideas he'd been tinkering with. Perhaps it was time to start deploying them.

Just then, his glasses beeped, signifying the one and only secret communication avenue he had that would loudly announce itself like that so he'd not miss it - one that was important and very late, and he groaned, "When it rains it pours. I need to get to my jet, it's the closest safe spot for contacting the World Security Council."

Because the message he got was from Killmonger, his little snake in the grass was finally ready to destroy Wakandas main shield generator.

He felt like slapping himself in the face. God, now I even sound like I'm in a Star Wars movie. Blowing up shield generators, ugh…

"Now people, now!" He snapped out, Elena jumping slightly as she got to work.

Ugh, Killmonger finally… Took you long enough…

He glared at Domino who leaned back onto the couch, a leg over her knee, "Don't you have work to do?" He sniped.

She smirked mischievously, "I do, my job is watching your cute little butt, so I guess I'm doing great, watching you right now, in fact." She said irreverently, gesturing to her own eyes with two fingers and then to him, smirking the entire time.

Justin definitely needed Phantazia back, his people were getting way too cheeky with him.

＊＊＊

Three hours later, Hammer Industries private jet.

Justin hated waiting. On anything. He was fine with others waiting on him, as was only proper, but waiting on the other Security Council members was literally torturous.

They were the ones who had hassled him for weeks, wanting updates on Killmonger's process, updates he didn't have, because he was deep undercover and reporting in daily or weekly was retarded.

Something the oversight council of an intelligence agency should have known.

And now he had the update they'd been waiting for… And they were making him wait!

Finally, minutes later, the last member's hologram appears, Gideon Malick, the prick.

"Does this mean you finally have something useful, Hammer?" He immediately asked, not even bothering with the niceties.

Justin raised a mocking eyebrow, "As opposed to the eminently useful information you've given, Malick?" None, in case that wasn't obvious you odious toad!

He'd already known Malick's name from Pierce, but the rest had finally broken down and shared identities in some futile effort of getting some team cohesiveness between council members.

Or because they noticed his people had been sniffing around and figured they'd get it out of the way.

He knew which theory he subscribed to.

Alexander Pierce, attending the meeting for the first time in weeks, raised his hands in a calming motion, "Now, let's not get away from the matter at hand, you've called this meeting, Justin, do you have anything to share?"

Don't call me Justin… He wanted to say, but HYDRA was still a somewhat useful friend, even if they didn't know he knew as much as he did. They were obviously angling to recruit him, which hell no!

"My operative has the ability to end the shield, today. He's only waiting for my order." Justin said smugly, a touch of arrogance to his posture.

These other jokers held some minor power, but they'd failed in as much as scratching Wakanda, so as usual it came down to Justin's superior planning.

"That's very useful information, can we afford to wait?" The - totally not a Mandarin spy - Asian councilor asked softly. "He could be discovered any day, and we'd lose our only reliable way to end this farce of a war."

"Setting things off too early has its disadvantages too," The British councilor interjected, "The major nations have still not come to an agreement on the distribution of Vibranium, if the shield falls…"

"It will be a free for all, an utter mess that risks setting off world war three. Again." The Indian councilor said, with clear disgust in his voice, "Can we risk it?"

"Esteemed councilors, do you believe there's any chance of an agreement between the major nations in the near future?" Pierce asked politely, his gaze almost jovial.

Justin scoffed loudly, drawing attention, "We speak of that like the people in this room does not influence those decisions."

"It's not as simple as that." Malick said, voice dripping with distaste, "No one in this room controls what Russia or China might do…"

A funny thing to say with the Asian hemisphere's councilor right there, but in essence the truth, he's not the one with control…

Justin smiled sardonically, "We might not control them, but we know exactly how they'll act, and it won't make a difference if it's now or six months from now." He gave them a piercing gaze, "Except now, we have the means, who knows about the future…"

"Your man can deliver?" The Indian councilor asked quietly.

"Of course."

What a pointless question, why else would Justin even have called this meeting for?

"If we're moving immediately, I'll contact NATO to put all the pieces in place." The British councilor said, with a deep sigh following her statement.

Gideon Malick looked displeased, as he acknowledged the apparent will of the council, "I'll speak to Ross, if anyone can get the US forces hopping, it's him." From the immediate grimace that appeared on his face, Ross had worked his usual charms it seemed…

Pierce smiled grimly, "SHIELD is already on the ground and will of course be notified to stand ready."

Ready to loot, no doubt, Justin thought, finding it amusing that there was literally no difference between HYDRA and SHIELD in this matter.

"What kind of timeframe will we have?" The Asian councilor asked Justin bluntly.

Justin hesitated momentarily, wondering if he should push for more time, or just get this over with. Eventually his busy schedule convinced him the sooner the better. "The armies are all already there right? So tonight, let's not risk my operative or his sabotage being discovered."

"Armies don't move that quickly." One of the so far silent councilors broke in with.

"They'll have to today, gentlemen and lady." Pierce said firmly, "We all better get working." He glanced at Justin, "Give us a few hours, then we'll work on what time we'll set it all off, we want to have our asses covered on this one."

Needless to say, the whole world would be watching, Wakanda's defeat was one of the most significant world encompassing issues since World War Two.

Justin logged off, feeling that it had been all too easy, not something he was used to with the council.

It discomforted him. Usually it was like pulling teeth, so the fact they all so easily folded…

Was he making the right choice in moving immediately?

＊＊＊

Wakanda, Royal Palace, Living quarters,

T'Challa sighed despondently as he made his way through the corridors, heading towards his parents' living area.

Normally the Royal Palace brought him a sense of pride and contentment, but now all he felt was dread as he traversed the halls. It felt too much like the beginnings of a catacomb to him, his surroundings more and more equating to a prison or graveyard than a loved home.

The finery, the weaves of the tribes of his people, the artifacts and art adorning the walls, the Vibranium in the walls practically thrumming with recognition of its chosen people - it all felt limp, fake, today.

The Americans were in the middle of replacing those their warriors had killed in their government - and all of them were running on what measure of Wakandan blood they'd promised the public. He could see no way forward, his project barely enough to save those closest to him.

Even his last pathetic gasp of hope was more of a failure than anything. It was admitting loss, admitting that he could do nothing for Wakanda, for its people. Those who'd all suffer while he and his made their escape.

He felt more and more like a coward, as he'd been called plenty as of late. What else could you call a prince who was abandoning his people, his heritage, saving only the few? His sister, his parents, Nakia….

Yet, he could not foresee another path, and he refused to let Shuri suffer for their mistakes.

His steps slowed down as he realized he'd not yet run into a single guard.

This far into the living quarters the Dora Milaje should have been plentiful.

Breaking out into a sprint, he rushed towards his parents living quarters, his heart beating wildly as he suddenly ran past an eviscerated guard, tossed aside like garbage, the pathway bloody and filled with the stench of the recently deceased.

No, no, NO! He screamed internally as he ran past two more fatalities, both women heavily burned and unrecognizable.

He broke through his Father's door, splintering wood across the room, as he skidded to a stop, his heart breaking at the sight before him. "No! FATHER, MOTHER, WHY!?" He cried out in anguish, tears running down his face as he charged at Killmonger, who was holding his dead father up, a burning hand inserted in his chest, his mother lying dead on the floor, a handprint burned into her face.

The smell of burning flesh suffused the room.

Killmonger cocked his head to the side, a teasing tilt to his lips, "Hey, cuz, you missed the party." He said flippantly, tossing the former king of Wakanda at T'Challa in a sudden show of strength.

T'Challa interrupted his rush, catching his father's body, sliding to a stop as he laid it down gently on the ground. His eyes were burning with hate, even as tears continued to run down his cheeks. "They were your family! He accepted you when I would not!" He screamed, trying to understand.

His parents were dead. T'Challa had not stopped Killmonger in time. He had failed. Again.

Bast! Why not him? Why let the failure continue on!?

Killmonger smirked, seemingly at perfect ease as he spoke up, "Yeah, in retrospect, not the smartest choice your dear old dad made, huh?"

"I'm going to KILL you!" T'Challa growled, closing his father's eyes, praying that he'd find some measure of peace with the ancestors.

Cutting off the head of his killer seemed a good start for that.

Killmonger tsked, tossing something in the air, a metallic device of some kind, "You know, I'll almost miss all of this." He said, pressing down on the device. "Except, nah." He chuckled.

T'Challa moved to rush him, when the entire palace shook in an almighty explosion. His face paled, as he stared at the cockily grinning murderer, "What did you do!?" He roared out, his heart thundering as he could hear screaming outside the Palace, an all encompassing cry from the people.

His eyes grew wide in disbelief as he looked out one of the windows, seeing the receding shield that had covered Wakanda, kept it safe. That's why I haven't heard any shells for the past few minutes… He realized.

The enemy had stopped their artillery, they knew!

Killmonger chuckled, tossing the detonator over his shoulder carelessly, still seemingly utterly relaxed, "Just blew your shield to kingdom come, cuz." His grin turned vicious, "There's so many people that want your head, I think I'll leave you alive to face justice, what do you say, King?"

"I will kill you…" T'Challa hissed out lowly, eyes almost glowing, as all he could see was red.

＊＊＊

"Shield is confirmed down?" Justin asked, eyes intent on the screen as he typed in commands.

"It's confirmed, everyone's moving in, it's going to be a cluster fuck worse than anything the cold war ever threw at us, you mind? I'm kind of busy." Fury drawled sarcastically, before turning off the communications channel without waiting for confirmation.

Justin chuckled, "Fury, so full of charm…" He finished what he was doing, finger hovering over the enter key.

Flashback,

"So Erik Stevens? How was he?" Justin asked Domino casually.

Domino, lounging on the couch, stretched languidly like a cat, a smirk on her face, "Amazing, a veritable gift to women, wouldn't mind a rerun or twenty." She quipped.

Justin rolled his eyes, "I didn't ask about how he was in bed, Domino, what's your feeling about him?"

Giving her a vacation was well earned, but it didn't mean he wanted to know what fucking Killmonger got up to in bed.

Domino gave him a doubtful look, "Why are you asking me? You already know…"

Justin smirked, nodding, "I'm fairly certain yes, but getting a second opinion from someone I trust doesn't hurt…"

Domino looked slightly flattered, as she sat up straight on the couch, her expression more thoughtful, "He's very clever, and impossibly smooth, definitely not a follower, for all that he was masquerading as a soldier…"

Justin thought that fit his picture of the man perfectly, "Can he be trusted?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Domino snorted, "He can be trusted to always look for an angle, sure." She said with surety.

Justin hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose it's a good thing I took precautions."

The poor man thought Hansen had given him a perfected Extremis, instead he'd gotten a version that slowly eroded.

By this point, his regeneration wouldn't be more than an ability to heal cuts.

Perfect for the implant in his head to take care of business if needed.

Justin eyed the program that held the only detonator to a man's brain, sliding his fingers over the keys.

Soon enough, Killmonger, he said softly in his mind.

Too bad you're so untrustworthy, you could have been something…

Flashback end.

He pressed the enter key, sending the signal across the world to Wakanda.

"Sorry Erik, but some gifts shouldn't be taken at face value. They can be poisoned…"

＊＊＊

Wakanda,

Before T'Challa could strike, Killmonger stumbled suddenly, raising a hand to his face, eyes shocked, as blood began pouring out of every orifice. His eyes met T'Challa's, agony and anger visible for only a second, "Hammer!" He managed to croak out in pure disbelief, getting out those last words, taking a step forward - before he seemed to lose control of his body, falling face first to the ground.

It was anticlimactic, and not at all satisfying to T'Challa, not enough to gain revenge on the traitor.

T'Challa hesitated before the body, unsure what was happening, and then suddenly Killmonger's head exploded like a melon that had taken a sledgehammer to it, blood and viscera showering him as he stared at the inexplicable moment, shocked and angry.

It finally clicked in his mind, through the haze of grief and anger.

Killmonger had been a disposable agent, completely unaware it seemed, someone had killed him from afar once the shield went down, even this outsider Wakandan was simply used by their enemies. Used and disposed of like trash!

Hammer… It all came back to Hammer. He was the reason for all of this…

He sent Killmonger.

He killed his country, his parents…

And now, he even stole T'Challa's revenge!

"Hammer…" He growled, sending one last glance at his parents, wishing he could do more, before he ran, heading for his sister.

They needed to leave.

Now!

…

Across the borders, NATO, SHIELD and various forces from neighboring African countries rushed in, ready to establish their own slice of the pie, and push out any latecomers.

It was a race, and therefore the forces pushed harder and further than what would be wise in traditional combat doctrines.

Of the Wakandans that got in the way…

No one had any time for them.

＊＊＊

San Francisco, Pym technologies.

"Dad, what's the big rush?" Hope asked, with a hint of exasperation as she entered his office, having received no less than five phone calls and three emails to ensure she arrived.

He'd been more insufferable than ever lately. Hope would have thought that his genius being acknowledged across the world would have pleased him, but it only made him crankier.

They'd had to upgrade security tenfold due to the heightened threat profile, as everyone in the world realized the efficacy of Pym particles. Realized exactly what could be done with it.

She knew her father slept in his new and improved Ant Man suit nowadays, ensuring anyone trying to come for him would have a bad day.

She didn't go quite that far, but she regularly wore the Wasp suit under her clothes when out and about.

And of course there was the whole… Justin Hammer thing, and the superhero thing… Her dad had not been a fan of either of those developments.

She'd been so focused on her dad, sitting behind his desk with a pleased smile like the cat that got the canary, that she totally missed the other person in the room until he spoke up.

Then again, she generally tried to miss his presence while going around the building too.

"Hope, nice to see you again, radiant as always." Darren Cross said, a big grin on his face. He looked about as pleased as her dad did, except his grin was significantly dumber.

"Darren… What a surprise." Hope said, controlling her expression, turning towards her dad, "Dad… Mind explaining what's got you in such a good mood?" And why is your sleazy fanboy in here?

The only good thing about Darren Cross was that he'd normally spend all his time in the lab or sucking up to the board, so Hope didn't have to see him too much. What her father saw in that man she didn't know. He reminded her of a weasel, his smile at times too wide and too fake.

He was also very obviously into her. And saw her rejection as a cute game they were playing. Major skyscraper sized red flags right there.

Of course her dad disagreed, sometimes she wondered what on earth her mom could have ever seen in him.

"Hope, I've solved all our issues." Hank said smugly, gesturing to Darren, "Show her Darren."

Darren turned around and grabbed a helmet that had been behind him on the table.

Hope turned to her dad aghast, "You didn't!?"

Darren chuckled, fastening the Ant Man helmet onto his head, obviously wearing the suit under his clothes, "No need to sound so surprised Hope, my lovely, I'm practically family." With practiced ease, like he's been doing this for a while, he initialized the Pym particles in the suit, and shrunk down.

Hope turned stormy eyes on her dad again, not able to understand how he could sit there and look proud, after making such a fundamentally stupid decision. "You gave Darren Cross the Ant Man suit!?" She paused for a moment as Darren reappeared, at least he still had the old bulky type, not like Hope's where her helmet simply flowed on, due to her father's innovations in nanotech.

God, how could he ever think this was a good idea! She thought with disgust. Even if he didn't give him nanotech, he's literally handed Pym particles to this idiot, when he refused for so long to give even a tiny amount to Justin!

"Wait… How long have you had this?" She asked Darren suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

"A few months, why?" Darren said, looking a bit put out that Hope wasn't more impressed, rubbing his arm like he was a child sent to the principal, feeling guilty but not knowing for what.

Foolish man, like she'd be impressed by a suit and power she'd seen her dad use frequently. That's just yuck, definitely not dating material, no matter how much he flashed cow eyes her way.

Hope turned to her father again, angry, practically spitting out, "What!? You made me beg for a year!"

Only the fact their threat profile had massively increased had led to him allowing her to have the Wasp suit, to wear it underneath her clothes everywhere she went to protect herself from potential kidnapping threats or worse. If that hadn't happened - she'd still be begging him for it! And Darren Cross got it in a few months!

Hank blanched, the pleased smile falling off his lips, "It isn't like that, Hope." He hurriedly tried to defend himself, "I gave it to him to protect you."

Hope straightened, a furious expression on her face, "I can protect myself, dad! And you what? Got me a superpowered bodyguard without even informing me?"

Sadly, she wasn't even surprised. This was very on brand for the great Hank Pym. She was angry though, very angry. "Did you not think for even a second that I should have a say in this?"

Darren was looking very uncomfortable now, and like he was wondering if he could shrink down again without being noticed. He also looked pathetically hurt, like Hope had crushed his dreams by not falling in love the moment she saw him in a matching suit.

Men!

Hank blustered a little, squirming in his seat, before as usual, stomping past all her thoughts and feelings to be Hank Pym about it, "Nevermind that, Hope! You've been running around with that nutjob Hammer, and now you're going to be part of some sort of superhero team! You didn't consult me on that, did you?" He said triumphantly.

Hope squashed the wish to throw something at him, she was better than that. "Who I spend time with is none of your business, dad! And the President asked me to join, and I have this suit for a reason! I couldn't say no to helping!"

Hank rose up, hands flat on the desk as his neck turned a furious red, "You have that suit because I gave it to you!" He spat out, eyes flashing behind his glasses. "It's for your protection, not so you can go seek danger!"

Hope couldn't believe what she was hearing, or she could… She just hadn't thought he'd be so pigheadedly obstinate with her. "So you should decide who I spend time with, what I wear, whether I change my career, whether I choose to serve my country?" She said dangerously quietly.

"Yes!" Hank yelled, before he seemed to realize what he was saying, "Wait, you know I don't mean it like that, Hope…" He said looking stricken.

Hope held her head high, "You made your meaning pretty clear, Mister Pym. Am I allowed to leave?" She asked coldly, bitterly.

She was after all just an employee at Pym technologies, and he was her boss and CEO.

"I think… Everyone should just take a deep breath, I've done a lot of Yoga and it's helped balance my chakras, I think you two could use some of that as well." Darren said with an easy grin, the fakeness practically exuding from him to Hope's eyes.

Hope ignored him completely, she was not even going to entertain the idea of this fool following her around as her bodyguard! And good luck getting Justin Hammer to accept him to the team, she was sure she could easily convince him to see it her way.

Her lips quirked just the tiniest bit, thinking Justin would probably go quite a bit further then just denying him a place if she told him her thoughts on the man. It felt nice to know someone had your back to such an extent. She eyed her boss angrily, unlike some people… She thought.

"I have work to do, may I be excused, sir?" She asked again, standing ramrod straight as she watched Hank Pym slump in his seat.

"We'll talk later… You'll understand, Hope." He said wearily.

Hope really doubted that. But she took the tacit agreement to leave, and walked out as soon as she could.

Screw work, she was getting absolutely shit faced.

On the company credit card.

She might as well buy a round or ten for everyone on the block as well…

Because fuck Hank Pym.

＊＊＊

Madripoor, Violet Eye Brothel, same time.

Norman Osborn usually wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this. So… Savage and uncouth.

The entire first floor seemed more like a debauched nightclub more than anything, cages hanging from the ceiling - women, men, boys and girls swaying to the music in various states of altered minds, prices displayed openly.

Life was cheap, not anything new to Norman.

Art was displayed in abundance, by a loose definition of the word - as the paintings invariably depicted people in flagrante, hardly worthy of the Louvre.

Well… Slap the right signature on the bottom, and it would get in, he supposed. He even employed a skilled forger just for the purpose of ruining the enjoyment of their art collections from his rivals.

He'd even hired the man from a place just like this in Madripoor, where everything and everyone was for sale.

The bar, the seating area and other various props and decorations were a mix of chrome and violet neon lights with splashes of graffiti here and there. Modern trash, he couldn't help but think of it.

The masses of apes that made up the lower class always found new ways to debase themselves…

It did have its charms though, he thought, as he brushed past several women only wearing glitter and bejeweled bits, serving drinks to the men and women who frequented the Violet Eye. Criminals and business men - not so different from each other after all.

And at least he didn't stand out too much in his finely tailored suit, the clientele being a mix of people such as he, down to filthy gangsters with gang tattoos proudly displayed.

A woman that was entirely colored in violet and purple skin with glowing pink eyes stepped up to him, her nails several inches long and appearing to be razor sharp with an almost metallic sheen, her toothy smile showcased equally razor sharp teeth. He was briefly interested in if the effect was due to the woman actually tattooing her entire body and filing her teeth, implanting the nails and such and wearing contact lenses - or if she was some kind of mutant. One took effort and commitment he could appreciate, the other he didn't care for. His eyes took in her entirely nude body, a voice somewhere cackling madly as he wondered if she'd bleed red, or purple.

He wasn't mad, it was the world that was insane, Norman seemed to be the only sane man left, the only one willing to make the hard choices.

"Monsieur Osborn, you're expected, I'm Madame Désordre, welcome to my Violet Eye." She said coolly, in an obviously french accent.

So obvious that he was almost positive it was all fake.

Norman raised an incredulous eyebrow at the knowledge she was the owner however, his bodyguards shuffling slightly in surprise behind him. The owner parading around like this was a shock - even though Norman had expected nothing but filth and damnation in this hellhole…

That said, for someone with a small measure of power - to debase themselves before clients and employees like this - he just couldn't understand these people. These weaklings.

Madame Désordre gave him a sardonic smirk, her eyes narrowing in cruel delight, "Ah, the great Norman Osborn is tongue-tied, yes?" She gestured with a toned muscled arm, her bust bouncing along with the action mesmerizingly, the woman showing no shame whatsoever, "The Violet Eye holds the desires of the world, which desire is it that you seek, hmm?"

Norman HATED her for a brief moment, CRUSH THAT SLUT! His ears ringing as his countenance darkened, as he took a step forward into Madame Désordre's personal space, "You can't possibly fathom my desires," He growled out almost bestialy. "You already know what I'm here for, don't play games with me!" His lips twisted into a snarl, as he almost spat at the woman.

Before his bodyguards could even react, two nails sharper and deadlier than most knives rested against his jugular, Madame Désordre studying him carefully, tapping his vein, "It's been some time since you've been in Madripoor, Monsieur Osborn…" She mused out loud.

His useless bodyguards raised their hands over their heads, as every man woman and child in the place somehow found themselves with a weapon in hand. Inevitably pointing it at them, more arriving on the balconies overlooking the first floor, turrets sliding out of the walls next to the entrance, whirring as they found them within their sights.

This was some achievement, as many of the employees were absolutely naked and hadn't had quick access to a weapon. He did find it quite amusing that the turrets were Oscorp branded too.

"How big your cock is outside in the other world doesn't matter here." She said wickedly, one of her fangs scratching up her lip, her long tongue idly licking up the blood, as she met his eyes. "Madripoor stands for Madripoor only, you can not come in here and try to push me around in my house!"

Norman cackled, eyes wild and alive as he pushed forward against the deadly weapons masquerading as nails that were held against his throat, Madame Désordre swiftly moving her hand back, a flicker of something uncertain appearing in her eyes, "Are you mad, Osborn? That would have killed you." She said bluntly.

Norman pushed forward yet another step, Madame Désordre having the choice to kill him, or to step back from him in front of everyone. Norman just knew somehow, something insistent singing in his veins, that he'd win this confrontation no matter what. "Is it mad? I see you backing up, little rabbit." He said viciously, a mad grin on his face as the proprietor of the Violet Eye stepped away from him fully, eying him warily.

She had lost. She was not as willing to kill someone of his stature as she'd postured. He glorified in her hate filled gaze. His dominance assured, just like that little voice in the back of his mind whispered.

"Kill the rest of them!" She spat out, acting like an angry toddler, lashing out. Gunfire briefly erupting after her words and managing to paint the mostly violet building red, Norman quite liked it. It was an improvement.

Not as nice as green, but red had its own charm.

His men had been caught completely unprepared, having visibly kept hands away from their weapons in the face of overwhelming firepower. The flashes of bullets fired from all directions and the screams they elicited as they mowed down his men like wheat, made Norman feel alive in a way he hadn't in over a decade, something within him stirring in lust.

He eyed the dead and dying bodyguards impassively, hiding his arousal over the scene. Having seen Madame Désordre back down before him once already, he wasn't worried. And he'd just hire some of this rabble for when he needed to leave. "You've saved me the bother of paying them for services rendered, I suppose your little club does have its uses." He grumbled, sneering at her, "Now take me to my meeting, you were hired to facilitate this were you not?"

Madame Désordre twitched irritably, "Clean this filth up!" She snapped to her people, fingers twitching as she slit the throat of a boy walking past her with a tray of long necked drinks, "Get out of my way!" She snarled, walking away towards a doorway in the back, guarded by several armed men with military quality weaponry.

Norman looked down at the rapidly spreading pool of blood from the collapsed server boy, laughing quietly to himself, now… Now the woman was somewhat attractive to him…

He followed her lackadaisically, in no particular rush now, because he knew it would annoy the woman - now that her little power play had so miserably failed.

He was led through two corridors, before Madame Désordre stopped by a large door, again guarded by burly military grade style types. "He's in there." She said shortly, crossing her arms under her bust, giving him a hateful stare.

Norman simply chuckled at her, patting her on the cheek, not even caring about the three cuts he received to his hand as she slapped it away, they were only skin deep anyway, she'd held back, scaredy cat…. "Everything is for sale, you said… Don't go anywhere, consider yourself bought for the evening." He ordered cruelly, delighting in the absolute loathing she directed his way.

He knew her type now, the kind of criminal that would sell even their grandmother with a smile, in parts, piecing her out herself. She'd hate him for every moment, but she'd take his money. He couldn't care less about the sex, but putting her in her place… Oh yes, it would be worth the no doubt exorbitant fee.

He entered, plastering on a regular smile, "Ulysses Klaue, you're a hard man to get a hold of nowadays…"

Klaue, dressed in some kind of ridiculous fake military outfit with so many medals on it that it could sink a ship, grinned widely, leaning back against a violet and circuitous couch, "Well if it isn't Norman Osborn, howdya manage to sucker the military into buying your crap ahead of my mate Justin, huh?"

Norman had known the man was annoying, but to open with that, he was beginning to think his sources had undersold it.

"Superior abilities and product." Norman said, feeling a spike of anger at the assertion that his superior products were inferior to Hammer. "I was under the impression you had accepted this meeting with the intent to do business?" He didn't bother to sit down, having some serious doubts on the cleanliness of any private room in this locale.

Klaue grinned happily, "Maybe I just wanted to have you fly all the way over here, all worked up for nothing, eh?" Before letting loose a loud guffaw, slapping his knee in an absurd showing of some kind of slapstick humor, while Norman twitched and stood there, growing increasingly angrier.

This cretin isn't taking me seriously!

"You may have come across a bit of luck with current world events, Klaue, but I would not be taking this so humorously." Norman warned, not letting his anger and disgust show on his face. Trailer trash weapons dealer, you're nothing but refuse swimming with sharks, Klaue…

Klaue stopped laughing, leaning forward slightly, one hand stroking his beard, his fingers each adorned by a gaudy ring. "Like in everything else, Osborn, you're beneath Justin Hammer, even in the threats department." He chuckled, tapping his knuckles against the low wooden table in front of him, "My mate had this look in his eyes like he wanted to dissect me at times, really had me over the barrel once too, but he needed me too much to ever pull the trigger." His eyes glinted with malice and greed as he smacked his lips loudly, blowing Norman a kiss, "Just like you're here cuz you need me, eh?"

What patience Norman still held, snapped, and between one moment and the next, he was holding Klaue up in the air, a manic grin on his face as Klaue kicked fruitlessly against him, his eyes wide. "Well then, Klaue, there's the difference between Hammer and me!" He cackled, his grin spreading wider, encompassing his entire jaw, his eyes almost popping out of his face as he held Klaue up in the air without a hint of effort. "I have a hair trigger! Sometimes I don't even realize I've pulled the trigger until there's a big mess everywhere…"

As he cackled, he thought he could hear more cackling from everywhere around him, only making him want to do it more, even as Klaue was turning blue, slapping his arm, trying desperately to tap out. "You know more about Wakanda than you're saying, I want that info, I want to know where the juiciest pieces are, so that when the shield falls, I'll get the best slice of the pie, and you will tell me, won't you?"

He lowered the man's face, so that they were eye to eye, enjoying the panic he saw in the other man's eyes as his air was beginning to run out.

"What say you, Klaue? Who's scarier now?" He hissed out, seeing his own approving and grinning face in the reflection of Klaue's eyes.

＊＊＊

Hammer industries private jet, with Elena.

As Justin was making himself comfortable in the chair of secrecy - as she liked to call it - Elena settled down on the couch, laptop on her knees as she thought over things.

Maybe it was odd for a spy and assassin to enjoy being a personal assistant, but she honestly had never felt more powerful than she felt now.

Instead of guns, knives and wire, she wielded the pen, phone and laptop. And she held in her hands more power than some leaders of developed countries.

The amount of trust and power Justin gave to his inner circle - once you got in - was mind boggling. It was no wonder Sunil had abandoned HYDRA immediately, the right hand of Hammer could practically decide which country lived or died.

How many HYDRA goons could say the same?

Sunil had been found out immediately however… While Elena was still keeping a big secret. And everyday she wondered if they all knew, and just kept quiet, trusted her anyway.

Or if she was going to be put in the deepest hole on earth once she came clean.

She didn't think Justin would do that, because she'd proved her loyalty over and over again, but it would still amount to a betrayal of trust, and she felt a pang inside her at the idea of Justin no longer trusting her.

Which made it all the harder to come clean and tell him who she really was and why she was initially sent here…

She still sent falsified reports back from time to time, pretending she was still doing her job, that she was still a good little black widow. Luckily enough she hadn't received any other orders than to keep close and gather information. Not that she sent back true information anyway.

If the order came down to kill…

She'd have to come clean immediately, before more Black Widow's arrived, this time to take her out, for refusing orders.

After Wakanda is taken down, things will calm down, I'll tell him then. She decided, glancing over at the chair, privacy screens already up and limiting her view of Justin.

She bit her lip, her sister would so make fun of her for developing feelings for a target if she heard about it…

She snorted amusedly, then again, Nat had her own run in with Justin, as she'd found out.

She'd refused to watch the whole video on principle, because sister. But she was very amused at how completely played her sister had been, the feared Black Widow fooled completely and dancing to the tune of Justin's skilled fingers. She blushed slightly, and the fact he outmaneuvered one of the best spies in the world is totally attractive too…

She was still slightly pissed because on one hand, he'd embarrassed her sister. On the other, it was funny, and gave her some much needed ammunition against her big sister.

Who's the best widow now, Natasha?

She tapped her lip with a finger, frowning in thought, it will make Christmas dinners slightly awkward though I suppose.

She glanced at Justin again, I was totally better than her too, right? Is it okay to ask? Or is that creepy?

She could literally feel her cheeks flaming up, so she dropped that line of thought, and focused on her laptop.

They had over a hundred Metahumans who'd applied - they all needed comprehensive psych profiles and background checks done before they could trust their application to be genuine.

Sunil was busy with the revitalization of Africa, so it came to her to arrange everything. Her eyes narrowed as she came upon a name she knew from her Black Widow days.

A mutant that definitely could not be trusted, one who had assisted Dreykov before.

And for this kind of scum, she was perfectly comfortable using Mutant instead of Metahuman.

It was a conundrum however… If Dreykov knew somehow that she had any say on these applications, her turning them down would signal that she was no longer mind controlled - while her not having reported that she had that much power, would signal it as well.

But if she said yes, she'd be inviting a snake into the company to do damage, someone she knew to be a sociopath.

Denied, she clicked, putting a red flag on the application to ensure there was no doubt about the unviability of his application.

She'd made her bed, and once Justin accepted her apologies for keeping it secret for so long.

She'd deliver him an army of sexy Black Widow secretaries to do his bidding!

＊＊＊

Hammer industries private jet, With Justin.

Justin was still in the World Security Council chair, eyes closed as he listened to the communication as SHIELD tried to organize and herd the over a dozen different militaries that were rushing into Wakanda at top speed.

They took losses of course, as the Wakandan super soldiers had been close to the border, and suicidically threw themselves at the foreign invaders in a vain attempt to slow them down.

Except they weren't facing stationary artillery targets now, sneaking around in the night in hit and run tactics.

Facing a mobile highly trained and flexible attacking force, the Wakandan super soldiers found themselves flanked and pinned in short order, taking dozens of men down with them for each one, but all being brought down.

All faithfully reported over channels, SHIELD sorting through it all, allowing Justin to take it all in, keeping an eye on Fury through it all, half believing the spy of spies would pull something.

His eyes opened as someone screamed over the channel, "Launch detected!" Complete silence descending for but a millisecond, before everyone began hustling.

"Where goddamnit!?" Fury's voice came over the line as Justin grabbed the chair tightly with his hands, no, not fucking again! He thought, stop playing with nukes you fucking morons!

"Satellite's detected it… African east coast, outside Somalia. It's the Iliad!" The operator's voice yelled out, sounding defeated.

"Motherfucker, get everyone out! Every damn man and woman with a goddamn radio, cellphone or loud voice get a hold of them and get those men out!" Fury roared, the channels exploding with chatter.

NATO had just entered the country, the Americans and Africans both already rushed in way ahead of them, albeit from different vectors, both now far enough inside a quick retreat was likely impossible in time.

Justin closed his eyes, feeling sick.

There were not enough assets for taking down a ballistic missile in eastern Africa. The American aircraft carriers were in the Mediterranean, and wouldn't be able to respond in time, the Iliad had popped up too close to Wakanda.

He could still hope that Wakanda had a missile defense. C'mon you advanced bastards, missile defense is nothing, tell me you've got it, he thought.

He had no idea if a nuclear strike would affect the Vibranium, but if Wakanda was wiped off the map, it was going to be a prelude to a lot of world issues as every nation began to prepare for escalation, watching each other anxiously.

Wondering if one of them was truly behind it all in an attempt to stop the others.

Time ticked down, the cacophony of noise ignored by Justin as he waited. He had changed the world.

If Wakanda was wiped out in nuclear fire…

It was he that had done it.

"Wakandan response in the air!" Someone spoke over the noise in the channel to say, everyone else quieting down, "Birds approaching, they won't make it in time, missiles launching from all over Wakanda, they're giving it everything they've got!"

Silence, utter silence, as everyone waited.

"Missile destroyed!" Was finally reported.

Across the world, a sigh of relief was let loose amongst the intelligence and military community.

Justin's was likely the biggest.

"R-report in from the US embassy in Moscow, the Russians have told them they've lost contact with one of their nuclear submarines, want us to know any action isn't from them." A shaky sounding operator spoke over the channel.

The palpable relief present just seconds ago, disappeared in a rush of fear and paranoia.

"How long ago!?" Fury barked, sounding disturbed - speaking up after a moment of sheer disbelief, one shared by Justin as he listened in.

Because you have got to be kidding me right now?

"Thirty minutes sir!"

"Took their sweet time…" Fury cursed, "Last known location?"

"... The coast of Saudi Arabia."

Which is not that far away from Wakanda… Justin thought, gnawing on a nail, who the fuck is doing this!?

And why the fuck do the Russians have a sub there in the first place.

"China has reached out, they've.. A-also lost contact with one of their nuclear submarines, thirty one minutes ago." Another operator said quietly, but everyone heard, "The Chinese called the American ambassador and they've just passed it along to us up the chain."

"What?" Fury asked flatly.

"Sir! Just in from the Pentagon, they lost contact with USS Kentucky and USS Nebraska, fifteen minutes ago!" Came the cry from yet another operator.

Justin felt real fear, this just couldn't be happening!

In the comics and movies no one just went and stole nuclear weapons! It wasn't done!

"Launch detected!"

"Two launches detected off the west coast of Africa!"

"Launch detected off the coast of Saudi Arabia!"

The chatter died down, NATO and US forces were already scrambling jets, a last ditch attempt to shoot down the ballistic missiles heading for Wakanda.

No one believed Wakanda had the defenses capable of stopping this after that last gasp salvo - the forces already inside Wakandan soil, would not make it out on time.

All they could do was sit and wait.

Bearing silent witness.

＊＊＊

Wakanda,

T'Challa loaded the last of the people he could afford to take onboard sans one last one, feeling melancholy, and a deep sense of anger.

He'd recognized the activation of their last gasp missile defense, something that would only be happening if the westerners were planning on bombing them into oblivion.

He only needed the last person to board, and they would at least save something from Wakanda.

"Okoye, it's time." He said, watching the woman standing by the flight platform, staring into the distance, towards the mountains.

"No, my place is in Wakanda, I was born here…" Okoye turned to him, her eyes wet, but her face full of determination, "And I'll die here, taking as many of these monsters down with me as I can."

"Okoye… Please, I need you onboard." T'Challa begged, not wanting to lose another person close to him.

She smiled softly at him, "You do not need me, my king." She stepped up to him, hands on his shoulders as she leaned her forehead against his, "You are everything a Wakandan should be, go, save what you can."

"Wakanda forever…" T'Challa said sadly, looking around, taking one last look at it all, Wakanda, Okoye, his home.

"Wakanda forever!" Okoye snapped out, crossing her arms across her chest.

T'Challa stepped onboard, the ship he'd had his people work on day and night taking off into the air.

Okoye looked at it until it disappeared completely into the sky.

She was ready to die, to fight these westerners, to kill. She'd show them the swansong of Wakanda, and they'd sing songs of their last defense for eternity.

She was tossed off her feet suddenly, as a sound unlike anything she'd ever heard erupted all around her, the noise alone tossing her.

From her prone position, she could see the mushroom cloud, and the ever closing devouring trail of smoke, fire and debris heading her way, ruining everything in its path.

"COWARDS!" She shouted as nuclear fire wiped everything away.

Wakanda's last song never sung.

＊＊＊

Time ticked by, even Fury not barking orders as they waited for the results, hopelessly praying for a miracle.

Even Justin had nothing this time. Anything short of Magneto vacationing in Wakanda right now would fail to have any significant effect.

One broken voice came over the channel, "One bogey down… Three hits…"

Justin disconnected, feeling sick.

Wakanda just took three nuclear strikes.

Three!

He'd changed something. Something for the worse.

Someone out there had done everything in their power to wipe out Wakanda.

And they'd succeeded.

＊＊＊

High above Wakanda, in orbit.

T'Challa couldn't believe it.

Not in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that their enemies would go that far.

The shield was down, they were practically defenseless, their other defenses gradually having been decommissioned over the years as the reliability of their shield and anonymity - led to it being considered a waste of funds to maintain.

With the help of Wakanda's best scientists, he'd succeeded in transforming the corpses of several of their warships, into one larger ship to transport as many of his people as he could cram in over the last few months.

Originally intended for his parents, Shuri and Nakia, to escape the murderous westerners who'd no doubt kill them all for being associated with Wakanda's ruling family. It was now holding over three dozen other Wakandan's.

Shuri stood by his side, staring down at the sight of Wakanda's death, her lip wobbling as she tried to be brave.

Tried not to cry. To show herself as a proud Wakandan warrior - like Okoye.

Okoye… Robbed of your last stand…

T'Challa laid a hand on Shuri's head, speaking softly, his voice hoarse from all the screaming and crying he'd done so far, "Cry, Shuri, let it out, there is no shame here, cry for our people, our land, for our family, our friends. No warrior has dry eyes today, sister."

His own were red, tears streaking down his face, even as his heart burned with everburning hatred.

They would traverse space, their experimental ship hopefully enough to get them to somewhere habitable.

Then, someday, even if he had to wait until he was ancient…

They would pay!

All of them!

Justin Hammer!

＊＊＊

New York, Hilton Hotel, next day.

Justin wanted to tear his hair out, as he tossed his phone onto the couch, holding back a scream of frustration. The President's hands were tied up right now, he couldn't do anything no matter what Justin threatened.

The World Security Council's moronic assertion that Magneto was behind this all, was going to screw up everything he was doing.

If anything, the addition of several nuclear subs going out of contact at the same time, and launching their payload against Wakanda - pointed away from Magneto.

He was one powerful bastard, but controlling the Iliad and several submarines from opposite ends of the continent at the same time, might be too much even for him.

And he hated that comic book shenanigans forced him to have to add the might, onto there. Because he possibly was that powerful.

Magneto would have to respond if the world shoveled this crap onto his shoulders. Which would only worsen the situation. Which was why he was doing everything in his power to get the leaders of the world to reject any overreaction to the Council's moronic assertion.

"At least it can't get any worse than it is right now…" He muttered, the intelligence agencies and government brass had no intention of publicly calling out Magneto at this time. Which gave him time to work something out.

The situation was still manageable, if not at an ideal state.

He really hoped the Vibranium mines were fine, or the world governments were going to throw even more of a hissy fit.

The fact Wakanda was practically wiped out, wasn't very high on anyone's concern, only the consequences thereof.

At least amongst the powerful in the world.

Justin wondered briefly who would actually want to wipe them out, or limit access to Vibranium. Surely even the Mandarin or any other villain would want the miracle metal around…

Africa was already bracing itself for what may come their way as winds picked up, and he couldn't imagine who'd risk so much, risk total nuclear war for this.

Only the fact that all the major nations involved had actually communicated beforehand had kept things steady, none of the major powers adding to the horror show by adding their own fire.

The Iliad and the submarines had all apparently been sunk, their purpose spent.

He'd have to look into it as a matter of course, but first he needed to clean up this whole situation, before it boiled over into his Metahumans project. As crass as it was to say, even as sick as he felt over it all, life moved on, and he couldn't stop.

He knew he'd have nightmares from this… Probably would have already if he'd at all managed to sleep since.

Wordlessly Elena gestured to the TV, drawing his attention, so Justin stomped over, and raised the volume. It was a live press conference on CNN. Some newly elected congressman he had never heard of, the names tended to blend together when several hundred of them were being elected at the same time.

He felt he should have remembered this name however, because how often was a little person elected to Congress?

He looked a little like Peter Dinklage if he squinted, and he wondered why Elena wanted him to watch some rookie congressman shoot his mouth.

On the screen, the tiny severe figure of Bolivar Trask was seen, (name shown on the screen) microphones shoved into his face as he held a fiery speech, eyes almost feverish, "- this is absolute proof that Hammer's whitewashing of these mutants is absolutely ridiculous, Magneto is the number one suspect for this heinous attack, a mutant capable of controlling several nuclear missiles at a time with the ease you and me have carrying a bag of groceries to the car."

How the fuck does he have that information! The President of the United fucking States didn't know Magneto was a suspect until I fucking told him what the Security Council believed and tried to get him on my side of things… Justin immediately resolved to put this Trask midget, high up on his to do list.

The reporters all shouted out questions, eager for more of the controversy that would erupt from the words of the newly elected congressman. Trask ignored them all, staring deeply into the camera, speaking to the American people in living rooms across America, "Make no mistake, mutants are not our friends, they are here, amongst us, hiding, waiting to strike. They're able to kill us at a glance, read and steal our minds, make us into vegetables - or in the case of the real monsters, like Magneto, capable of annihilating civilization." Trask said chillingly, his absolute surety in what he was saying resonating through the airwaves.

"Pay some mutants to do charity in Africa if you wish, Justin Hammer, try and change their names to something more PR friendly, it will avail you nothing." Trask voice rose in a crescendo as he continued, "They will turn on you, they will turn on us all, because they're not like us, and they are capable of completely wiping humanity off the face of the earth, we can no longer let it be, not after last night's display, the earth itself and all of humanity counts on us to ACT NOW!"

Justin stared at the TV screen, a complicated expression on his face.

"Shit." He said succinctly.

＊＊＊

Author's note:

Justin: I very clever, stop Killmonger from stabbing in back!"

T'Challa: HAMMER! I will go to the ends of the solar system to mount your head on a pike!

Oops?

Oh well shit happens, you can't change the world without breaking a couple countries I guess.

Yelena has been a Black Widow for a long time, so her views aren't exactly the same as a normal person - seduction is a matter of fact thing, so she's slightly pissed, but mostly amused at the whole Natashalie failed seduction and its consequences.

Again I don't know business and politics nor claim to do so, take everything in this chapter and ongoing ones as made up because it sounds okay - not gospel or real world stuff.

Also you didn't really think the mutant issue was going to go smoothly now?

Cheers