Black Panther and Storm in Soberk’s Ascension Pt I

Previously in The Black Panther and Storm:

For over ten thousand years warrior kings called Black Panthers ruled and protected the isolated and unconquerable African nation Wakanda. In their isolation Wakanda became the most scientifically advanced nation on Earth. T’Challa was the latest Black Panther, and he believed that his great nation was obligated to use its resources to help the less fortunate; defenseless peoples of the world against tyranny, corruption, and megalomaniac super humans.

Black Panther later married Ororo ‘Storm’ Munroe the non-Wakandan mutant heroine.

Story: Soberk’s Ascension Pt I

The wind swept across the quiet evening savannah plain and up toward the low hanging Ongon tree; shaking out the loose yellow petals from the hundred years old branches.

The teenage sweethearts, Umba and Enzi sat at the base of the tree. It was their spot and they met there once every month. As they enjoyed the shade, Umba usually told Enzi about the sights and sounds of life outside Wakanda. He spoke of the lights of Lagos, the traffic in Johannesburg and the stewed fish made by the people on bank of the Kaskang River. He told her about the bright coloured Cameroon mini vans used in public transportation that had pet names like “Kriss Kross” written above the windscreens. That he had liked the music from an Ethiopian rapper, and his father had records from a Ghanaian jazz singer.

And Enzi would listen quietly; her imagination vividly brought to life the world that Umba described. She regarded him as a portal to an environment she had seen only on television. It reinforced her aspirations to travel outside of Wakanda. But that required special permission.

Therefore the sixteen-year-old girl bided her time. Meanwhile she lied on her stomach, her elbows stuck in the ground, her face cradled by her hands, the braids tucked to one side of her head, and her legs crossed as she stared at Umba. Sometimes she asked a question that led him to a different and fascinating story. “You’re like a house full of stories,” she told him once, “there is a new one behind every door.”

It never eluded her that Umba was so experienced in the world and he was still only fifteen years old. He was stocky and with a low hair cut. He usually leaned against the old tree, a wide grin on his face. He gesticulated as he got deeper into the stories. He was seemingly happy to tell his adventures especially to her.

Enzi also knew he never lied about the tales. She was instinctively aware that he told her the truth and the absence of embellishment added to the mystique she created in her mind of the outside world.

Yet this day was different. Umba was not happy. Enzi had expected it, because up until then an  issue had weighed on his mind, which he hadn’t spoken fully about.

He had found out that his mother was alive and that she was a criminal like his father.

He appeared hurt and angry. Enzi was holding his hand reassuringly. He related the mission that he went on with T’Challa, Ororo and Shuri where he discovered the truth.

“Do you know what she looks like?” inquired Enzi. Her focus on the computerised visor that aided Umba as he was blind. If he took it off and stared at her with the naked eyes then the invisible energy blast from them would end her life.

“Shuri said that she was about late forties. The visor told me that she was six feet tall, slim and her hair was in a pony tail.”

“Does she know that you’re her son?”

“Yes. That’s what is really eating me up. But she didn’t tell me anything. She just drove off,” replied Umba. “And it was not so long ago I had asked myself if I had to choose between my new life and her, who would I go with?”

Enzi sympathised with him since he was told his mother was dead; now that he knew the truth and he wanted answers, she abandoned him.

A tear trickled down from his right eye. It surprised Enzi in two ways. First he had never cried in front of her. Secondly she didn’t know that he still had the ability to cry, because the curse on his eyes was supposed to have altered them forever.

Umba swiftly wiped the tear away as quickly as it had appeared. He had felt awkward crying in front of Enzi, but then the reality hit him that he could still cry. He rubbed the salty wetness on his fingers.

“Hey,” he said in wonder and a little  cheerier.

Enzi liked the mood change so she encouraged it further.

“You should tell T’Challa and Ororo.”

“They’ll be back later this evening.”

“Where did they go? I saw that they were visiting the mine workers early on today.”

“They went to Aranzi to finally see Soberk.”

“That’s the guy that saved the outside world from the virus right?”

“Yes.”

“But why did you say finally?” She removed a petal from her shoe.

“He asked for their help three weeks ago, but has been putting off a meeting ever since because of his world tour. Last night he called again and he wanted a meeting in person.”

“Oh.” Enzi looked at the petal with half interest and then she flicked it away. “Isn’t it strange that he would need help? For what?”

“They’ re going there to find out.”

Suddenly a thought entered Enzi’s mind that related to Umba’s discovery of the teardrop. She remembered the woman that had cursed Umba-Malice.

Why would I be thinking about her? Enzi asked herself.

Chapter

Aranzi, Africa

Under the late dictator, Aranzi was a notorious hub for criminals. Money launders and tax evaders from the West. Human traffickers from the east operated from the capital city. Illicit drugs passed through the south daily. And the dictator took a percentage from all of them.

Dr Alex Soberk changed that immediately when he ousted his father and then became ruler of Aranzi. Accordingly he was hailed as a hero by the international media.

Then he cemented his place in the hearts of the citizens when he healed every infirm person in the general hospital. He did that first; afterwards he went on the world tour where he mass healed millions of people from the virus epidemic. And he had no intention of stopping there.

Mynee, outskirts of Aranzi’s captial

The mannerly maid brought in the magazines and she rested them on the small table in the waiting room. She placed her hands on the sides of her maple uniform. Then she turned to the guests seated on the sofa.

She looked at the mid thirties man in front of her. He was handsome, large and strong. His fitness showed a man accustomed with arduous labour. But there was an aspect of him that unnerved her. His casual appearance was fictitious. He was primed. Ready to either attack with ferocity or act coolly at any sign of trouble. His sword leaned against the sofa.

“Would you like anything to drink?” she asked T’Challa.

“No thank you,” he responded kindly.

“And you Mrs—?” she inquired from Ororo.

“I’m fine, but thanks for asking.”

The old lady made no other facial expression other than politeness. Then she exited the room in practised short neat steps.

T’Challa grinned because of the cover artwork on the first magazine, which was a Newsweek. The illustration portrayed the major pharmaceutical companies as giants cowering in the presence of Soberk who was standing heroically with his arms folded.

I hope he continues with his rise in prominence. Maybe they’ll nickname him Panacea, thought T’Challa and he continued with the reflection. Still no one knows who or what caused the virus. Even Wakanda’s virologists are unable to decipher the bio chemical make up. So Soberk’s intervention was timely when everyone else was failing. The majority of the world’s population may have been buried today if it was not for him. The World Health Organisation may need to change their procedures when dealing with an epidemic like this. They were greatly inadequate. I’ll have to send my recommendations.

Then his thoughts went to Ororo and their relationship. He remembered the night before that they had danced Western style in the sky under the bright eye of the moon. She had enjoyed that, he thought.

Her passion for life is one of the things I love about her, he said inwardly.

On the other hand, the incident with the maid highlighted a quality Ororo liked about T’Challa. That he could fend for himself despite his royal upbringing. The time he had spent outside of Wakanda as a teenager had taught him rugged life.

She reflected on it.

So I can carry him to a dingy bar in outback Australia and he would not be put off by it, she said to herself.

She was an attractive thirty years old woman, almost six feet tall, toned, slender and shapely. An accomplished street fighter, she could defeat eight thugs with her bare hands.

Ororo also noticed the magazine cover. Her blue eyes traced over the image of Soberk. He was six-foot, mid thirties and fairly muscled. His skin was not human rather it was hard and brown. The eyes were dark grey. The scalp was bald.

Ororo folded her arms and slanted her head as she watched the picture. Then she remembered the video phone conversation Soberk had with T’Challa and her. There was something about him that was oddly familiar. She had wondered about it on the flight to Aranzi. As she sat there the answer finally resonated with her.

“He reminds me of Midas,” she said.

“How so?” T’Challa raised his eyebrow.

“They have the same superficial demeanour.”

T’Challa checked the time on his kimoyo. “He’s also late to the meeting that he scheduled.”

“We can cut him some slack. He’s healing the world. All rather conveniently though.”

“Are we going to bring it up in the meeting?”

“We should just to get his reaction.”

“He might think that we’re jealous accusing him of showing up right as the virus seemed unstoppable and then taking the glory.”

“That is not jealously, its suspicion and we have every right to be.”

“It comes with the job.”

“It comes with the job.” Ororo smiled and she looked at the magazine cover again. “This is serious. He could cripple that entire industry if he continues like this.”

“At what cost to him personally, beside the physical changes,” said T’Challa as he recalled that a month prior Soberk was an ordinary human looking man with low-level magical abilities.

“We can only guess.”

“If we learn his secret then you could get a boost in your magic also,” he said playfully.

“Then there wouldn’t be a challenge in nurturing and mastering it would there,” she said. “I rather visit my aunt and learn it from her.”

“But Soberk’s magic angle does throw a spotlight on Dr Strange and Brother Voodoo.”

“I can imagine how they are hounded as to why they couldn’t do the same thing with their knowledge of magic. They were the experts before all of this happened.”

“Essentially magic is energy manipulation. Maybe Soberk has tapped into a new source.”

Ororo checked the time on her kimoyo. It was nearing two hours.

“Do you think Umba will ever open up about his mother?” she asked. “It’s been three weeks now.”

“I’ll say yes once he gets over the shock and anger.”

“I haven’t made up my mind if we should lock her up or let her go after we’ve got the information from her.”

“We can hand her over to the ICC. She was working with Apocalypse, that’s a crime against humanity right there.”

“Then it will be both her and Malice in the same prison. The two other influential women in his life behind bars.”

“Who other woman is influential in his life other than you?”

“Shuri.” Ororo grinned.

“Shuri!”

“Haven’t you noticed, the two of them talk to each other now. Before they acted like complete strangers.”

“No. I didn’t notice.”

“I saw it when Ramonda visited the Bayern brothers in their cells.” Ororo saw in her mind’s eye the image of Ramonda dressed in burgundy royal robes and armed with a double edge ceremonial sword as she entered the cells and gazed over the bounded and petrified Bayerns who had bruised her in the kidnapping. The same manner they hadn’t pitied the man whose eyes she had gouged out during the kidnapping was the same way she didn’t pity them and they had sensed it.

“Well that’s good to know,” said T’Challa. “But speaking of mother. I can’t wait until she looks into the terrified eyes of the master mind behind her kidnapping.”

“All in due time, we need to be patient. He’ll eventually slip up.”

T’Challa glanced at the time. The moment he looked up from the kimoyo and stared at the closed office door a noise like sparking live wires came from behind it. Soberk had arrived.

Chapter

The enigmatic host opened the office doors. He wore traditional African attire. “Good day. I’m sorry to be late I was in Angola.”

“Not a problem,” said Ororo.

After the requisite handshakes, T’Challa and Ororo entered the opulent office.

“Please excuse the grandeur, this was my brother’s house. I’m staying here until the Great House is rebuilt,” said Soberk as he sat behind the technologically savvy office desk. “I’m still getting use to the echo.”

T’Challa agreed since the office took up six rooms.

“Kindly have a seat,” said Soberk with an extended hand.

Ororo was right he does seem superficial, thought T’Challa.

“Okay. The reason I asked for your help is simple. I need advice on certain matters that only you two are knowledgeable on such as the duality of managing a country effectively and being a super hero at the same time.”

“Well. We are willing to share,” said T’Challa.

“Thank you. That was the kind of response I was hoping for.”

“But what are your plans for Aranzi?” inquired Ororo.

“Basically I’m going to follow in your footsteps and use my country’s resources to aid the rest of the world. I specifically want to start a micro finance scheme for the continent. My father had collected a lot of revenue from the oil firms, mineral extractors and plutonium mining companies that operate in the country, which he kept for himself. I intend to use those funds to launch the project.”

“That’s admirable,” commented Ororo.

“Thanks. Also I’m aware of the political inconveniences that were placed on your country with the international isolation policy and what not, so I’m willing to assist in the areas that your are held up in.”

“We’ll work something out,” said T’Challa. “But what are you going to do internally?”

“Basic infrastructure repairs and building. Proper redistribution of wealth that sought of thing.”

“Do you have ministers or appointees to carry out the projects?” asked Ororo.

“Not as yet. When I start the screening process I may need your advice on what I should be looking for in personnel seeing that I’ll be away from the country most of the time,” replied Soberk. “Also with my father gone the country’s true financial worth will be now known. I estimate we will be one of the riches countries in the world and second only to yours on the continent. With that kind of money floating around I want to hire the right people to handle the country’s affairs.”

“If you don’t mind me asking but how did you become so powerful so quickly?” asked Ororo.

Soberk calmly looked at her. “I was born with the magic and now it has fully manifested itself.”

His gold watch alarmed. He checked it. “I’m sorry. I will have to conclude this meeting. I have another appointment.”

“Perfectly all right,” said T’Challa.

“I can let the maid bring refreshments before you leave.”

“Its fine,” said Ororo.

All three of them rose from their seats.

“Did you land your plane on the helipad by the north side or the west side?” inquired Soberk.

“The north side,” replied T’Challa.

“Then I’ll drop you there. It’s the least I can do.”

Soberk used his teleportation magic before the couple responded. They disappeared in a ball of mystic fire and then reappeared on the helipad in front of the Panther jet.

He shook his guests’ hands briskly. “I’ll call as soon as I start the process.” Then the miracle man disappeared engulfed in mystic flames.

The couple was speechless at first but gradually spoke while they entered the jet.

“I thought it was nice, he wanting advice on how to balance his new life,” said Ororo.

“And odd too.”

Ororo set the course to Wakanda as the couple relaxed in their seats.

“Having another super rich country will benefit the continent, so I see no reason in not helping him start off,” said T’Challa.

“He was correct about the restrictions. We could probably pass the plans we had for world projects over to him.”

“Still,” said T’Challa, ” he does come across as being superficial.”

“You don’t trust him.”

“I just want to be cautious and not the make the same mistake as we did with Midas,” said T’Challa as he remembered the incarcerated king.

“Changing the subject. I don’t understand why Fury doesn’t just tell Thor about the missing weapon since it is from the Asgard dimension.”

“He must have his reasons,” suggested T’Challa. “But out of speculation, if the Asgard pantheon wanted a thunder goddess for like a day would you do it?”

Ororo planted her elbow on the armrest and she propped up her chin with a clenched fist.

“Hmmm. I almost did it once so I may try it again.” She smiled mischievously. Her eyes slid down to the control panel and she concentrated on the estimated time to Wakanda. There was plenty. At that point, she noticed T’Challa also stared at the time.

Subsequently T’Challa and Ororo looked up at each other. A moment later, they were stripping the clothes off each other and kissing vigorously. With nothing severely pending, they could make long guiltless love. T’Challa carried his lover into the section that contained the bed. There he caressed her firm peaks lovingly. His experienced hands worked across her body and they caused his wife to lose her self-control. They became one. She held on tightly to him. His rhythmic physical power was driving her to another sweet and thrilling finish.

Chapter

Ororo had dressed and headed for the flight controls as the jet landed in Wakanda. Alas, T’Challa thought about Aranzi as a new dominant power in the world.

He began pondering on the issue.

He’ll have to watch for predators like I did. International politics is tricky to say the least. I can show him how. Also he will need to keep an eye on his home front. Something that I let slip on my end when I first started out.

Most likely I could use the wisdom I gained from those errors to advise him.

On the other side of the jet, Ororo also thought about Wakanda’s role in Aranzi’s future.

Soberk’s request proved that he was not too proud to say that he didn’t know it all, she reflected and continued. That is a rare thing. We can also give insight in prioritising his time accordingly between his country and helping others.

It’s a delicate balance. Then when you have a personal life like T’Challa and I it can become a quandary if not handled properly.

I’ll admit that T’Challa and I have worked out an understanding that suits us perfectly. The arrangement with my X men team mates is also working.

T’Challa and I may be the right people for Soberk to talk with. There aren’t many super powered world leaders on humanity’s side out there.

It is fortunate that Soberk seems to be on the right side.

Later at their home, the couple met an excited Umba. It was a welcomed changed from the angry teenager that had lived in the house for the pass three weeks.

The incident reinforced Ororo’s earlier examination that she managed her time, a country and a family.

Umba explained the reason for his mood to his guardians. They were equally surprised by the news.

“The specialist will check it out in the morning,” said T’Challa.

Consequently the three went out to an eatery in Central City for dinner. It was Ororo’s idea in order to keep Umba’s spirits up.

It made T’Challa reflect upon Ororo’s and his understanding of children. Both of them had taught at two different kinds of schools. Ororo had prepared mutant kids for life in a harsh world at the Xavier Institute, and he had educated Harlem public school children, as a foreign teacher stint-it was a means of understanding and helping the outside world.

So we are using both experiences to raise Umba, he said inwardly. And sad to say that if Malice hadn’t blinded the boy we may have never met him, thought T’Challa.

Chapter

There were two sides of Aranzi. One side was the modern urbanised centres with Western tastes. The other side was the  mystic sensibilities rooted in the countryside. It was the mystic aspect that Soberk’s father had feared; hence he destroyed it along with Soberk’s mother.

Soberk walked to his mother’s grave- the high priestess. The sun had since sunk in the distance; it had sent orange streaks across the sky in a last hooray. Darkness pervaded the graveyard. An army of crickets made their noises throughout the thousand of unkempt graves sites.

He arrived over his mother’s resting-place. “Mother I have returned.” Then he dropped a flower on the grave. “I miss you. I will make sure that Aranzi never forgets you. A national day shall be given in your honour. And tonight your legacy shall carry on through me.”

He turned and faced the enormous graveyard. The graveyard for Aranzi’s mystics murdered by his father’s orders on suspicion of treachery. However his father was unaware that the mystics were buried each with an icon- an object that held their powers. But Soberk knew.

He lifted his hands skyward and he concentrated. His grey eyes glowed.

“Give me your power!” he shouted.

The earth moved as the graves were disturbed. Then energy burst out the tombs in the form of wiggling lines of translucent blue light. Yet Soberk only saw them. In a rush, the energies bombarded him. The ordeal lasted for ten minutes.

Soberk felt remarkably different when it was over. His senses were so heightened that he experienced the world on several planes of existence.

Now he could break free from Kallus’s control.

“The fool thought he was using me when it was the other way around,” said Soberk.

He had required the power boost from Kallus in order for the amalgamation to work.

Suddenly he heard a woman’s voice in his head and she gave a location. It was the telepathic woman that Kallus contacted him with.

“Speak of the devil,” said Soberk and he teleported to the location.

He reappeared in a vortex of fire. Then the flames disappeared. He was in a white walled catacomb that acted as an office.

“I told you not to meet with them,” said the sixty year old Kallus who passed for fifty. The body showed the remnants of man who was physically fit in his younger days.

He stood near a table; arms folded. The disguised spymaster was dressed like a corporate branch manager, but without a tie. His British accent was faked yet so well practised that it was difficult to tell.

A stoic Soberk crossed his arm and pushed out his chest. He was waiting for the right moment.

“Your stubborn, but we’ll work on that,” said Kallus as he picked up a stopwatch from off the table. Nearby on the table was the Asgardian artefact that had boosted Soberk’s powers. The stopwatch reached zero and then Kallus looked at Soberk expecting the man to collapse in pain and in desperate need of  another power boost. But the moment never came.

Soberk sensed that the time was right. “I no longer require the artefact’s power; I have my own.”

Kallus’s expression gave nothing away. He was calm and he rested the stopwatch on the table.

“I want to re negotiate our agreement,” said Soberk. He knew the momentum was in his favour so he carried on without a response from Kallus. “I will continue to draw countries away from Wakanda as you intended.” He stared eye to eye with the spymaster.

Kallus’s eyes gave away no surprise that Soberk knew about the master plan.

“But you will not have influence over my country,” said Soberk.

“Well your ungrateful. After I put you in power.” He pulled a hologram projector from the next end of the table and he turned it on. “This is your new assignment.”

A facial image of Midas appeared from the projector. He was twenty-nine years old. The eyes were deep in the head and green.

“This is-”

“I know him already. That’s the man who killed those millions of people in his land grabbing scheme,” said Soberk. “What’s my part?”

“In eight hours he is going to break out of prison. He’ll be on the run for two hours. Then you’ll go to the prison, perform a location spell on him, catch and return him.”

“Sounds simple.”

“You’ll be returning him dead along with the people who helped his escape,” countered Kallus.

“What of the wife?”

“She was just the enforcer. She doesn’t hold the public interest as he does.”

“And your orchestrating the escape?” asked Soberk, but he knew the answer beforehand. The depravity of the man, he thought.

Kallus’s body language affirmed the suspicion.

“What’s the point of this?”

“We can’t let the world only view you as a healer. You have to be perceived as a man of action so when we implement the hotline more countries will turn to you instead of Wakanda when they face a problem that requires force.”

Soberk agreed wholeheartedly that his image needed to be tweaked.

“I’ll do it. Call me when its time.” He summoned the teleportation flames and they swirled around him. “And also, tell the telepath that she has a pleasant voice.”

Then he vanished.

Chapter

Kallus’s hand dived into the trouser pocket and he pulled up a pack of cigarettes. He inserted one into his mouth and lit it. He exhaled the smoke and massaged his right temple.

The operation had gone sideways. Somehow Soberk had emancipated himself from his control. He peered at the Asgardian artefact that he had stolen from Fury.

“All that effort wasted,” he muttered. “Maybe it can be used in another capacity.”

He knew Soberk was rebellious. It was the reason the young man had fallen out with his father and why he met with T’Challa and Ororo.

“At least he is still a glory hound,” said Kallus.

He opened the dossier on Soberk to find out where he could have received the new power. Then he closed the document because it was futile. He knew the information back and front.

Dr Alex Soberk-second son-never married-multiple girlfriends-exiled from Aranzi-became a medical doctor etc.

Other than the new scenario, Kallus hated the Midas op idea. The strategists in their wisdom thought that Soberk should take on a criminal that the entire world hated.

Kallus saw it differently. T’Challa and Ororo had captured Midas; thus when he escaped they would also be on the trail. He found it was too early for Soberk to be openly competing with the couple. But the strategists had objected. They thought it was brilliant that Soberk would upstage the Black Panther and Storm in the public eye.

Kallus took another taste of the cigarette. He had to find a means of bringing Soberk back under his control before anyone found out.

He loosened his collar. The reason he dressed like a branch manager was to cover the bullet-proof jacket that he wore as well as the Persian gold breast plate that protected him from magic. Also he had placed a chemical on his skin that masked his scent; therefore T’Challa would not sense that Soberk was in his presence.

Chapter

King Midas was imprisoned at the International Criminal Court’s detention centre in The Hague, Netherlands. The extraction team that went for him consisted of five men and one woman. None of them knew their employer. They were provided with equipment and logistics for the prison break.

The woman disguised herself as a new lawyer from the law firm that represented Midas and his wife Malice. But she wished to speak with Midas. She was properly checked by security before entering the briefing room, which was on the seventh floor of the main section.

Midas was waiting patiently in his green prison clothes. He was curious about the visit.

The professionally dressed woman (in a soft green suit) strode into the room and she rested her briefcase on the desk.

“What’s this about?” asked Midas. He was pleased with himself because he still thought about Malice despite an attractive six foot one woman standing in front him. Her hair was fashionably cut short.

“I’m here to get you out,” said the woman with an Argentine accent.

Midas grinned because he was serving multiple life sentences.

The woman slipped a pen from her purse and she squirted a substance from it onto the briefcase. Then the woman roughly pushed Midas onto the floor. The operative lifted the briefcase. She dropped the desk onto the side to shield him from the intended explosion.

Meanwhile the substance had a chemical reaction with the briefcase. It fizzed. She expertly flung the briefcase at the door. Instantly she ducked behind the desk with Midas. Ka-boom!

Midas felt the heat even though he was protected from the full blast. The woman took control of his arm and she led him out the room.

He understood it was a break out. But who ordered it? Midas thought.

He was aware that some individuals would go through any lengths to execute him personally. Still he had no fear; thus he went along with the woman. However he remembered Malice.

“We have to get my wife!” he shouted. “I’m not leaving without her!”

“Someone else is getting her,” lied the woman. She had followed the instructions. She confiscated the side arm from one of the fallen guards outside of the door. “Follow me and you’ll meet her on the outside.”

Midas didn’t want to believe her. Suddenly Ka Boom! Ka Boom! The building shook. She placed sunglasses over eyes and then activated a beacon in her purse. The explosions continued.

“Why aren’t we getting out of this area?” asked Midas since seconds had passed and they were still outside the briefing room.

“The transport is coming to us,” replied the woman. “Shut your eyes until I tell you otherwise.”

Midas obeyed and he wondered who her employers were. Meanwhile the power went. Then a laser beam dissected the building. Moments later the front of the prison detached from the main section and it collapsed completely on itself. Leaving the cross section bare. The woman and Midas were exposed to the night air.

An armour plated aircraft hovered into place in front of the woman and Midas. The four feet long laser canon was extended from the underside. A door was lowered.

“Open your eyes,” said the woman.

He followed the instructions. Subsequently he and the woman boarded the aircraft. He looked frantically about for Malice until he was subdued and injected with a sleeping agent.

Chapter

T’Challa and Ororo arrived two hours after the prison break. They were equally surprised at the level of sophistication in the escape. Rescue crews were still digging out prisoners and personnel from the rubble. The media were kept at a distance from the prison. But word had already reached out that Midas had escaped.

The couple located the warden and the ICC chairman in a tape off area on the prison grounds.

“Good to see you two,” said the ICC chairman cordially.

“We understand that Malice is still in custody. Can we speak with her?” asked T’Challa.

The white haired chairman turned to the bewildered warden. “Sure,” said the man. “Anything to capture the bastard.”

Five minutes later, the couple was heading up the steps towards Malice’s cell. They discussed the issue of Midas abandonment of his wife.

“It seems out of character,” said T’Challa.

“Still we’re assuming he’s behind it. Remember he made a lot of powerful enemies from his scheme,” said Ororo.

“Then there is the family back in the kingdom. He might still have control over some of them.”

Eventually they arrived at Malice’s cell door. Ten guards were posted outside.

“Does she know?” asked Ororo to the senior guard.

“No,” responded the guard. Then he opened the cell for the couple.

Malice had been a difficult prisoner. She spat, bit and clawed at the guards. Then she became a danger to herself after what was deemed an attempted suicide. Therefore T’Challa and Ororo found her muzzled and restrained so tightly that she was immobile.

She still had the exotic good looks and long curly black hair. A daily shot of nanites nullified her mutant ability to manipulate the molecules of organisms.

She stared at T’Challa and Ororo with disgust. For the majority of her life she was practically a prisoner and when she finally found freedom and happiness T’Challa and Ororo had taken it away from her.

Technically Malice also blamed herself for the downfall because she believed it was better that she had killed Umba the moment she saw him.

T’Challa removed the muzzle.

“Midas escaped and he left you behind,” said Ororo in a controlled manner.

“Lies!” said Malice.

“Do you know where he could have gone to?” asked T’Challa.

Her hateful eyes shot at him. Instinctively he reattached the muzzle as he had sensed Malice’s nasty intention.

Chapter

Soberk appeared on the prison grounds shortly after T’Challa and Ororo had gone up to Malice’s cell. He noted the presence of the world media. Afterwards he negotiated with the ICC chairman and warden using his hero stature to great effect. Eventually he was allowed into Midas’s cell.

He used a worn shirt in the location spell. Then he vanished in a wave of mystic fire.

Four minutes later, a great ball of fire appeared in the area where the international media had set up their equipment. People scrambled for safety from the mystic fires.

The fires dissipated and lying in the spot was the aircraft. The crew was dead and Soberk was outside effortlessly holding Midas’s lifeless body up by the throat with one hand.

“I got him,” he said triumphantly.

Immediately Soberk was lit up by a hundred camera flashes.

Meanwhile the muzzle stifled Malice’s scream. She had sensed her husband’s demise. The heartache forced tears out her eyes.

Chapter

T’Challa and Ororo had no remorse for Malice. A guard brought the news that Soberk captured Midas.

“He’s here,” said T’Challa since he found it strange.

“He must have seen it on the news,” said Ororo.

“Possibly.”

They left the cell and went to the ICC chairman and the warden. Soon the group viewed on a monitor the media frenzy that converged on Soberk.

“Why did he take them out there?” asked the warden.

“For the show,” speculated the ICC chairman.

T’Challa and Ororo remained quiet for the moment. They didn’t want to discuss Soberk’s actions as yet.

Eventually Soberk teleported the bodies and the airship onto the prison ground. Then he showed by the warden and his group.

“Why did you do that?” snapped the ICC chairman.

“I believe the world had a right know quickly that one of its reviled men was done away with and that they were safe from more hardship he may have caused,” replied Soberk. He turned to T’Challa. “Don’t you agree?”

“No,” said T’Challa flatly.

“Then we have a difference of opinion,” said Soberk.

“Where they you find Midas?” asked Ororo.

“On a beach. I don’t know which country,” replied Soberk.

“Take us to it,” said Ororo. It was a command and not a request.

Soberk was unprepared for it, so a few seconds passed before he acted.

“Very well,” he said.

Chapter

Night was still present over the beach when the three heroes appeared. The sea was calm. Cold winds were blowing inland.

“They were over there,” pointed Soberk.

T’Challa caught Midas’s and six others scents. There were markings in the sand from the aircraft.

“You can return. We’ll find our way back,” said T’Challa sharply.

“Is there a problem here?” asked Soberk.

“We want to check out a few things,” replied Ororo.

“I’ll be at the prison if you need me,” said Soberk. Then he disappeared.

A bad guy got killed, yet the scenario does not feel authentic, thought T’Challa. He knew Ororo felt the same the way; hence the reason they were out there. They had to investigate the scene for themselves.

As usual Ororo surveyed the vicinity in terms of electromagnetic activity. “T’Challa there is a camera disguised as a rock over on that side.” She pointed inland at the jagged three-foot object.

They arrived at the hidden camera; she removed the camouflage. The small satellite camera was aimed towards the beach. It was self-powered and still transmitting.

“Someone was watching,” said T’Challa. “We can track the person.”

He took the kimoyo from off his belt. He activated the wireless function and transmitted to the Wakanda Secret Service. In three minutes, the secret service had via the kimoyo traced the location of the camera’s receiver.

T’Challa gave  the co ordinates to the sword’s time space computers. Thereafter the couple teleported from the beach into a supposedly abandoned warehouse. Instead the length and breath of the warehouse ground floor was an office.

A rack of multiple monitors was behind the couple. News footage of the Midas escape and capture were on the screens. A computerised map board of the world was nearby. On the ground were colour labelled computer cables and power plugs. There was the background noise of several operating fax machines.

Then T’Challa smelled cigarette smoke followed by the scent of the man that had kidnapped his mother.

Nonchalantly Kallus strolled out a corridor of stacked archives towards a computer terminal. He was reading a document in his hand intently. Ororo recognised him from the description Ramonda had given.

Suddenly he realised that he was not alone, and he turned slowly to the intruders; his mind on the gun rested on the table a three feet from him.

The hunters T’Challa and Ororo stared dead on at their prey. Kallus stared back eye to eye.

“You slipped,” muttered T’Challa.

Next Story: Soberk’s Ascension Pt II

Followed by: Blade the Vampire King

Age of Bashenga

Disarmament

~ by blackpantherfanstories on July 9, 2009.