Car Fugent
"Brother, watch out!" Shuri yelled through her comm as her brother narrowly avoided a pear-shaped missile.
"It is you who should be on their guard," grumbled T'Challa as he landed squarely atop a swerving vehicle, claws digging into the roof for a brief second before he launched himself into the air, landing squarely atop the vehicle he was pursuing. "If you had not insisted upon making the network unsure-,"
"It was a risk!" snapped Shuri. "And I took it. Only risk-takers accomplish what they are trying to get at."
"But they do not have to needlessly endanger-,"
"T'Challa, focus!" yelled Nakia as the Black Panther twisted into the air, another missile darting past him. “Car chases,” T’Challa grumbled. “Why is it always car chases?”
Nakia turned to survey the room she was in. It was in a large hotel in California, where she had come with Shuri to see the new embassy. The princess was currently in the other room, her partially set-up lab hastily assembled to assist her older brother- and king. The lavish lobby was full of interesting sights, but the three white men tied up on the floor were the only ones who interested her. She knelt in front of one of them and flicked them in the face. He flinched. “This is why you do not mess with Wakanda.”
“T’Challa!” Shuri screamed from the other room, and Nakia’s heart nearly stopped. Shuri almost never called him T’Challa. As she stood up, taking a step towards the doorway of Shuri’s temporary lab, the lights suddenly went out. Seized by a sudden fear, she called out, “Shuri?”
“I’m fine!” Shrui yelled. “But I need to-,”
Nakia didn’t wait to hear the rest. Grabbing the metal piece of piping she’d stolen from the part of the building still under construction to use on the men she and Shuri had tied up, she turned and groped her way out of the darkened lobby and into the street. The silence was deafening, and strange for a car chase. Heart pounding, she took a wild guess, setting off in one direction. The still-unbroken silence was eerie, and Nakia tightened her grip, speeding up. Turning, she was darting across the wide street when a reddish-brown car, complete with Wakandan king clinging to the roof, screeched around the corner and towards her. She heard T’Challa yelling something in Wakandan as she dropped her pipe on the ground, dimly aware of its clattering on the asphalt as the car zoomed at a lightning-fast pace towards her, managing to shut her eyes in the moment before impact-
Only the impact came in the form of a small body, throwing her to the side. Nakia hit the concrete, rolling over top of a small figure as both bodies came to a stop. She lay there for a moment, dazed, as the sounds of car and king faded, then, remembering herself, threw herself across the ground, seizing her makeshift weapon, and leapt to her feet, breathing heavily.
“Whoa! Whoa. Whoa. Okay, um…” The figure who had presumably saved her life lifted her arms. Nakia tilted her head, observing. “You are a child.”
“Guilty as charged, I guess.” Before her stood a girl, who looked just a little younger than Shuri, her skin stretched out far too thinly across her frame. Her clothes were nothing to speak of; typical American garb, if a little worn-down. The false denim pants Americans were so fond of; they were ill-fitting, as was the shirt, so dirty Nakia could barely make out the letters on it. A sweater several sizes too large made the girl look almost comically skinny, and her face and hands were dirty.
“Look, I’m… sorry if I interrupted something, or… I’m going to go now,” said the child, edging nervously away from her, eyeing Nakia’s pipe. Nakia realized she was still holding it defensively and lowered it. “No, it’s all right. Thank you.”
The girl bit her lip and nodded. Then, as if coming to a decision, she stuck her hand out. “Afri.”
Nakia shook it. “Nakia.”
Afri shouldered her backpack, shifting her weight nervously. “Well… bye, I guess.”
Nakia nodded, watching the girl walk away. She turned and started to go back the way she had come when a man, darting out of an alley, held a knife to her throat. Nakia froze.
“Drop the pipe,” the man growled.
Nakia fidgeted nervously.
“Drop it.”
Nakia hesitated for a moment, then flung down the pipe as hard as she could. Hopefully the noise would alert T’Challa as to where she was, or Shuri. Judging by the bleeding gash on the man’s arm, the two had already met. Nakia gulped as the knife pressed deeper into her skin, the man’s face coming far too close for comfort to hers, when all of a sudden she heard a shout behind her. “Hey!”
The man growled, grabbing Nakia roughly and whipping her around to face the noise. It was the girl- Afri- again. She must have heard the sound from the pipe, realized Nakia. “Afri!” she called. “Run! Find King T’Challa and tell him-,” her words became a choked gasp as the knife cut deeper into her throat. Where was T’Challa when you needed him?
Afri took a step backwards, eyes wide, then dashed into a side alley.
“So,” crooned the man, eyes glittering madly. “Your little rat is off to find the cat. And when he gets here, we will get exactly what we want from him.”
Nakia swallowed nervously, trying not to move her throat. The knife was still in the cut and the stinging sensation was slowly growing worse when all of a sudden, a clang resounded in her ear and the knife clattered to the ground. Nakia whirled around to see a wide-eyed Afri, holding the pipe. The man lay groaning on the ground.
Nakia opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her hand flew up to press on her throat. Afri dropped the pipe and grabbed Nakia’s arm. ‘Run!”
Nakia snatched her arm away and whirled to face the man. “I do not need to run, Afri.” The man clawed his way to his feet, growling. “You surprised me once,” Nakia said, contempt dripping from every syllable. “It will not happen again.”
The man launched himself at her, but Nakia grabbed his arm, easily twisting it behind his back, then grabbing the back of his head and pressing his face into the hard asphalt. She looked up to see Afri staring at her. “Right.” said the girl, slowly backing away. “Well. You seem to have this under control, so I’ll just…,”
Nakia pulled up the man’s head and bashed it down into the concrete. She felt him go limp and stood up, dusting off her hands. “No, Afri. Stay. I-,”
“Nakia!” Nakia turned to see a wide-eyed T’Challa, running towards her. “Are you alright?”
“I am fine, T’Challa,” Nakia waved a hand dismissively. “But you really should be careful where your criminals go.”
T’Challa’s eyes softened as he touched her throat gently, then hardened as he turned towards the man on the ground. “Did you kill him?”
“No,” said Nakia. “And neither will you,” she added as an afterthought, just in case. She was glad of it when she saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes. Then he stiffened, turning to face the teenager behind Nakia. “And this is?”
Nakia turned to see a frightened-looking Afri backing away slowly. “T’Challa, this is Afri. She saved my life.”
T’Challa tilted his head, nodding. “You have the thanks of the King of Wakanda.”
Afri’s eyes widened even further, her mouth opening and closing as Shuri dashed around the corner to join them. “Nakia! Where did you go? And who is this?” she asked, coming to a stop beside the older woman and her brother.
T’Challa turned towards Shuri. “The situation was put under control.” He gave her a stern look. “Though I would appreciate it if you refrained from creating any further situations.”
Shuri rolled her eyes, but Nakia thought she caught a tiny glimpse of repentance in her glare. Nakia turned to address Afri, opening her mouth, but shutting it with a frown when she saw the empty street behind her.
Afri was nowhere to be seen.