TGS - #18 (Patreon)

Disclaimer - All the owners have their respective rights. I only own the characters that came from my addled brain (don’t worry, I am completely sober).

Throne Room, Birnin Zana, Wakanda,  [May 1, 2012]

–T’Chaka–

The silence in the room was suffocating. It had not been the first time that particular matter had weighed so heavily on his conscience. He remembered the silence in the jet when he had come back after killing his brother with his own two hands. He wasn't worried about the soldiers leaking information about that incident. No, he was assured of their loyalty like he was certain of his brother’s loyalty as well. And yet, he was betrayed the same. So, he did something that he never told anyone. He killed everyone. Every single person who came with him on that trip ended up dead. Not on the first day but over the course of a week, he had made sure that the only alive soul who knew of that accursed day was him and him only. 

That was the first day that question had taken root in his mind. What if he had actually helped the outside world? Not something as narrow-minded as helping just one race but the whole world. Even in small minute places where it would not have endangered Wakanda’s secrecy. Events of historical importance that he turned a blind eye to, or even helped orchestrate. Like Howard Stark’s murder for example.

He was aware of the continued existence of HYDRA and how it had infiltrated the only agency on the planet that had the muscle necessary to rival Wakanda in all of its connections. Howard Stark was someone who was smarter than even the smartest of Wakandan scientists. Even his scientists could only dream of the stuff he could have created had he been given access to Wakanda’s resources. But no, his scientists might have been starstruck by his intelligence, his war council was very much content in letting a third party handle someone who was on track to create technology capable of rivaling theirs. So, he had let the brightest mind of the century die on the streets.

Combined with the hundreds of state-sanctioned murders that had been done on his orders simply because they were coming too close to their technological superiority or their technology was something they needed, his hands were drowning in the blood of the innocents.

Ever since he had been given the reality check that was his son and daughter, he had hardened his heart against all the things he had to, against his morals. He simply assumed them to be the weight of the crown and trudged along, day by day, hoping to bear the burden for one more day until T’Challa could take it over from him. To be honest, he didn’t really feel like much of a king these days. He had offloaded all but the most sensitive of his duties to the Council and Okoye handled most of the military stuff. The role of the Black Panther was also passed along to T’Challa at the first opportunity he could. These days, all he tried to do was spend more and more time with his family and hope that he tried his best with his kids while imparting them the morals and knowledge necessary for them to one day rule Wakanda better than he ever could.

When T’Challa came back from college, he had also begun telling him about the state of the outside world. He did not understand how T’Challa could have developed so much of a radical mindset just because he went outside. He knew all about the reality of the African Continent when he did his schooling here and yet, the rhetoric that T’Challa began spewing when he came back home was alarming to him for many many reasons. Especially the talks of using their standing military to push back against the warlords and stop them from selling out the natural resources, along with their people, to the colonisers for mere coin. That had been the last straw for him as he had snapped at T’Challa right then and there, on the dinner table, and told him, in no uncertain terms, that as long as T’Chaka was king, Wakanda would remain an isolated society and once T’Challa gained approval from the people of Wakanda, he could then ascend to become King and then decide what Wakanda will do with its not inconsiderable resources. The parallels that T’Challa had drawn with N’Jobu were hard to ignore and thus, he had almost destroyed his relationship with his son that day, if it were not for his Queen.

She was the one who had helped mend things between them and even then, things had never gone back to the way they were. 

Over the years, that reflected in the frankly, absurd amount of work that T’Challa put into the country. Every waking moment, for the past 5 years, T’Challa had spent in some form of governmental organisation. Coming up with a way to neutralise the recurring threats that occur on the borders of Wakanda to training himself to the bone, so much so that he became the top most combatant of Wakanda, T’Challa had taken his words to heart and had truly become someone who was worthy of becoming King. Far more worthy than he would ever be and yet, today’s conversation with the Green Guardian had once again sowed seeds in his mind. T’Challa’s reaction to his words was telling since he had just stormed out of the throne room once the Green Guardian had left. His wife followed suit and all he was left with was a squad of Dora Milaje, headed by Okoye as they waited for his command.

And what command could he give them that wouldn’t break up his family? He could not order them to go after the person who had just exited his throne room because that would just spell doom for the entirety of Wakanda. Speaking of the threat…

“Okoye, threat rating?” He asked her after taking a deep breath and leaning back on his throne, hiding a wince as his back pain flared once again. Hah, even being the King, it would seem that he would not be able to escape from the confines of being a normal human, and honestly? He would not have it any other way. He deserved this and he was resolved to see it all the way.

“The Highest, The only person comparable to him in threat level is Carol Danvers, My King.”

“Any countermeasures we can build around his powerset? How did he gain them anyway? Do we have any clue?” He asked Okoye who immediately brought up a hologram using her Kimoyo beads. They showcased multiple documents that revealed what he had already feared.

HYDRA.

Ah, another one of his mistakes coming back to haunt him. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent their uprising. He could have slowed it down immensely, sure, but stopping them without bringing everything into the open was impossible and even if he did try and do that, it was almost certain that HYDRA would not go down without a fight, possibly bringing down the world with them. After all, his WarDogs had already dismantled or otherwise disposed of no less than 16 nuclear weapons that HYDRA had tried to get their hands on. They stopped trying these days, not because they didn’t need weapons but because they figured out an even deadlier weapon.

Information.

HYDRA had their hands in every single information-gathering agency in the world. They decided what intel would reach the military, what intel would reach a warlord in Africa, or what intel would reach the ears of a corporate stooge. With such an extensive network, it was inevitable that they would put their dirty fingers in the state-sanctioned experiment to create super soldiers. He had ordered his WarDogs to supervise it in the beginning but once it had become evident that they had no clue how to create stable super soldiers, he had relegated that to second priority and had almost forgotten about it. Until today, when Okoye brought it up as the energy signature of the barriers that they had seen matched with the deeper Gamma signature that Dr.Banner emitted when he was in his alter ego.

All that was left was to figure out who it was but that was easier said than done since the base was already destroyed and nobody knew why. Well, he had an inkling about that and it was probably the person who got turned into some sort of living energy as a consequence of those experiments, creating someone who was an even bigger of a threat than the Hulk.

“What are the chances, huh?” He said wryly. He did not get a response but he did not expect one anyway.

“What is the verdict from the lab? Is there any way we can stop him from portalling in the country whenever he wants to?”

He sighed in resignation as the tightening of her face was answer enough for him. Over the years, they had figured out multiple ways to manipulate energy, owing to the miraculous properties of Vibranium but figuring out a way to block something that was outside the conventional understanding of science was understandably going to be hard for the scientists. Even Shuri would have a hard time understanding something as abstract as that and she was arguably the most intelligent person that had ever been born in Wakanda.

“My King, do we need to track him?” Okoye’s question brought him out of his musings. Hmm, he actually did not know the answer to that. Tracking him was easy enough since anytime he used his powers, his energy signature popped up on their satellites. But he knew Okoye’s question was not just that. She wanted to know if they were to get ready to fight and even take down someone who could destroy a small town all by his lonesome. That was a daunting task and yet he knew Okoye would try to fulfill it with all her might.

The only question was, was Wakanda strong enough to bear the anger of him along with the greed and cruelty of the rest of the world?

The answer came as easily as breathing to him.

“No.”

They would not instigate any fight with him and he hoped that the other side reciprocated because he did not have it in him to go out and fight enemies of Wakanda. 

“As you command, My King.”

“Hmm. Go look for T’Challa. I am sure he has some opinions about today’s meeting. Make sure he doesn’t beat up all the new initiaties in frustration. Again,”

Okoye bowed and left the room and after a gesture from him, the rest of the Dora Milaje left as well. He had no need for guards in the center of Wakanda or so they had thought but the power to create portals to anywhere on the planet was something that would keep all of the Dora Milaje up at night.

“Bast, give me guidance,” He muttered and leaned back even further in his very comfortable throne. He was just so so…tired already.

He looked at his Kimoyo beads and with a wave of his hand, the interface opened up, allowing him to manipulate everything about Wakanda with a tap of his finger. From the weather to the barrier functions to the filtration installed in the barrier, he could control it all. Through it, he could see the multiple bogies stationed all around the globe, along with a dozen of them in orbit, always ready to rain down hell on their enemies without anyone being the wiser.

But that was not what he was searching for this time. He swiped his fingers and that relayed the overall medical health of Wakanda to him. It was sitting at a very healthy 99.2%. The rest of it was mainly due to the stress and anxiety of the job wearing down their bodies slowly from the inside. Even as advanced as they were, they had no cure for stress, anxiety, and depression. Temporary suppressors? Sure but no definitive cures for the various mental health diseases.

He opened up a couple of menus and saw the list of cures they had for diseases that were thought to be incurable for the rest of the world. This, this right here is what is going to be the downfall of Wakanda, he realised to himself. His breathing grew heavier as he realised the path Wakanda was on and how it would only lead to a single destination.

Their complete and utter doom.

This is what the outside world will rally for. Not vibranium and not the pristine environment they had on the inside because of their barrier technology. No, that was all for the military and the handful of corporate mafia. The real kicker was going to be the list he was staring at. The medical cures that would be advertised to the rest of the world, even though most of the cures would never see the light of day, instead of rotting away in the patents list of some Big Pharma company.

And yet, the common public would not listen to that. They would only hear one thing and one thing only. That Wakanda had cures to fucking Cancer and still let millions of people die instead of sharing their medical cures.

Things would have to change and change immediately. There was going to be pushback, immense pushback from this but he would have to see this through, even if it turned out to be his last act as King. He would have to figure out a strategy for the eventual reintroduction of Wakanda as a country to the global stage. He had to figure it…out.

T’Challa, he sat upright as he realised the solution to this problem.

T’Challa would know what to do and as a bonus, if it helped mend things with his son, nobody has to know about that.

So, he taped the beads and said, “Okoye, once T’Challa is done with his spars, send him to the throne room,”

“Hah,” He chuckled wryly to himself and relaxed into his seat. He had to make sure that Wakanda was the first one to make a move instead of being forced to do so. T’Challa will be the face of the new Wakanda and a golden age of collaboration with the outside world. Judging by the words of the Green Guardian, he was sure that sooner rather than later, Wakanda was going to be exposed to the world and he would rather it be on his terms rather than the world’s. There was not much they could do to stop the Green Guardian from doing what he wanted, after all.

Let’s just get it done before some sort of major event rocks the boat that is the sensitive status quo that the world is in.

_______xx______

Harlem, [May 3, 2012]

–Jack Sullivan–

“44, 45, 46….” He counted to himself as he performed push-ups in the river. Oh yeah, he was currently doing pushups in the river, while the barriers were pushing down on him. He would have let the water do its work but the flowing water was fast but not that deep that it would create sufficient weight for his workout. So, he was performing his daily workout so that he wouldn't become rusty even though he did not know if it was possible for him to lose muscle or not.

It had been 2 days since he had come back from Wakanda and he did not know what had overtaken him that day. Intellectually, he knew what Wakanda had done and yet, he went there and soured any chances of a diplomatic relationship with them. Now, he was out of the Vibranium as well as any chance of some concessions from them. Ah, better get that out of his mind, he thought to himself as he exited the river and went back to his loft, of course after taking a stop in the Atlantic Ocean using his portals.

It had become second nature for him. Opening multiple portals to travel through different areas to throw off any tails on him. 

“Hmm, Coffee and Croissant sounds good, today,” He muttered as he entered the shower. There was an awesome cafe that served the most heavenly croissants right across the street from Stark Tower. Apparently, Tony and Pepper both got their daily orders from the same cafe. It was a matter of pride for them. He would go and visit the cafe, and see if he could drop in on Tony as well, if he is there.

It was currently 11 in the morning and he was sipping, in his opinion, the best coffee on this side of the coast.

“Ah!” He sighed contentedly as he bit into the croissant.

“Hmm?” His attention was drawn to the sound of tires screeching as he looked at half a dozen blacked-out SUVs stopping right outside the entrance of Stark Tower.

“Uh-oh,” The Croissant slipped from his hand as multiple suits exited the SUVs, all in their stereotypical black suits. That was not the reason he was shocked though.

The reason he was shocked was because of the person who had exited the first SUV. The agent with the most disarming smile was now looking extremely solemn as he made haste towards the entrance of Stark Tower.

“Shitshitshit!” he muttered to himself as he slapped down a bill on the table and began running away from the cafe.

Phil Coulson had arrived at Stark Tower on May 3, 2012.

It looks like Loki has arrived and it was time for him to BEGIN.

Word Count - 2979

A/N - And so it begins.