REUNITED ~ STEVE ROGERS [4]

Chapter Eighteen

  I was barely awake by the time I made it to the lab, crutch in one hand, casted arm pressed against my side for balance. Ross was up and walking, not a sign he had been shot in the back and almost paralysed. I sighed. On the monitor to the side was a picture of a handsome young soldier, dark skinned with short dreadlocked hair. There was something about his eyes I recognised but I couldn't quite place. I sat down on one of the stools next to T'Challa, whose whole body was tense, something like anger in his energy. I shook it off and focused on Ross, yawning.

"Eric Stevens. Graduated Annapolis age 19. MIT for grad school. Joined the SEALS and went to Afghanistan where he racked up confirmed kills like it was a video game. They started calling him Killmonger. He joined a JSOC ghost unit." Ross raised an eyebrow and sighed, surveyed his audience. "Now these guys are serious. They will drop off the grid so they can commit assassinations and take down governments."

"Did he reveal anything about his identity?" T'Challa asked, arms folded and brow furrowed.

"He has a War Dog tattoo but we have no record of him." Shuri answered, as she and T'Challa shared a knowing and worried look. My tongue instinctively run over my own War Dog tattoo, the luminescent blue ink leaving ridges on the inside of my bottom lip. It was a sign of belonging, a mark of identification for anyone who left Wakanda's borders.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

T'Challa sighed, looking at the picture on the monitor.

"We speak to him."

***

The atmosphere of the throne room was also tense when I was seated at the right hand of T'Challa, but now it was tense for reasons that had nothing to do with me. No one even bothered to give me dirty looks, which I counted as a blessing.

"Is this man Wakanden or not?" The River Tribe leader asked, panicked. T'Challa didn't respond.

"Tell us what is going on?" The Mining Tribe leader spoke in Wakanden, but this time T'Challa didn't need to answer as the doors at the other end of the room swung open and Eric Stevens walked in, escorted by W'Kabi. Eric stood in front of the circle as W'Kabi relucatantly took his place on the left of T'Challa. T'Challa looked on, chin up, his warrior face on.

"Speak." T'Challa said in Wakanden. He was trying to intimidate him, but I knew that probably wasn't going to work.

"Speak," W'Kabi translated. Eric looked around the room, and when his eyes saw me they went cold, dark, merciless. I almost shuddered.

"I am standing in your house. Serving justice to a man who stole your vibranium and murdered your people. Justice your King couldn't deliver.

T'Challa stood, and walked to Eric, standing so close they shared the same breath.

"I don't care that you brought Klaue, the only reason I don't kill you where you stand is because I know who you are...now what do you want?" T'Challa whispered, but I heard even from the other side of the room, and I furrowed my brow. Was there something T'Challa wasn't telling me?

"I want the throne."

The room laughed, erupted in it. The only one not laughing was me. These people had never faced true enemies, safe in the borders of their hidden world. They didn't understand the threat in those words, the ambition. I knew a power hungry man when I saw one, and he was standing just metres away.

Eric's face snarled, hard as stone. I watched him closely.

"Y'all sittin up here, comfortable. Must feel good. There's about 2 billion people all over the world that looks like us but their lives are a lot harder. Wakanda has the tools to liberate them all." Eric was passionate, fierce, something to be admired I suppose.

"And what tools are those?" T'Challa asked.

"Vibranium. Your weapons," Eric replied, fire in his eyes.

"Our weapons will not be used to wage war on the world. It is not our way to be judge, jury and executioner for people who are not our own." T'Challa was calm, at least on the outside.

"Not your own? But didn't life start here, on this continent? So ain't all people, your people?" Eric was more direct now, harsher. I had a bad feeling brewing in my stomach.

"I am not king of all people. I am King of Wakanda. And it if my responsibility to make sure our people are safe and that vibranium does not fall into the hands of people like you." T'Challa responded with just as much force, earning approving nods from the Elders.

"Son, we have entertained this charlatan for too long. Reject his request." My mother seated on the other side of Shuri spoke up, her voice strong and powerful. Eric only smiled, and not the nce kind of smiling.

"Oh I ain't requesting nothing! Ask who I am?" Eric said.

"You are Eric Stevens. An American black operative. A mercenary nicknamed Killmonger. That's who you are." Shuri said with confidence. I felt dread as Eric smiled again, and laughed.

"That's not my name, princess. Ask me, King?"

"No." T'Challa stood his ground.

"Ask me."

"Take him away," T'Challa said.

"Who are you?" The River Tribe leader asked in Wakanden, expecting no answer.

He was wrong.

"I am N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu."

Everyone was silent, waiting. I remembered Uncle N'Jobu, faintly. I was young when he left, but that's where I remembered his eyes. Cold eyes.

"The son of N'Jobu?" One of the elders whispered.

"I found my daddy with panther claws in his chest. You ain't the son of a King, you're the son of a murderer!" Eric was wild now, raw passion and grief.

"You're lying. Lies!" My mother protested.

"I'm afraid not, Queen Mother," W'Kabi replied, pulling out a necklace and ring, the same ring my brother now wore. A matching set.

"Hey, auntie." Eric grinned, shark like. "I'm exercising my blood right to challenge for the mantles of King and Black Panther.

All eyes were on T'Challa. I knew he wanted to refuse, but his honor and his ego would not allow it.

"Do not do this T'Challa," Mother pleaded.

"As the son of N'Jobu he is within his rights," one of the Elders said, reluctantly.

"He has no rights here." My Mother snapped back. Shuri took my hand and held it tightly as we watched.

"The challenge would take week to prepare," another Elder spoke.

"Weeks? I don't need weeks. The whole country ain't gotta be there, I just need him... and someone to get me out of these chains." He lifted his shackles.

"T'Challa, what do you know of this?" Mother begged again, pain all over her beautiful face.

T'Challa stood up, strong and brave. How much he reminded me of our father. He sighed, and I did do before he spoke.

"I accept your challenge."  

Authors Note

So so so so so so so sorry for the late update, I have been running around all day, haven't been home since 9:30am and I am sooooooo tired but finally here we are. I don't really have much to say about this chapter, but let me know your thoughts in the comments.

Stay safe my lovelies,

~JJ