[center][img]http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130709065957/marvel/ro/images/a/ab/Black_Panther_Logo.png[/img][/center] [b]March 22nd Wakanda[/b] Launching one foot in front of another Shuri winced in face of the sun beating on her brow. With nothing but rolling sand dunes for miles around, she knew she had to keep her mindset intact, she couldn’t give up, and she’d wasted so much time already. A fine dust was kicking up as she ploughed her feet through the sand. The sweat dripping down her face was evaporating in the baking heat. Lungs parched, Shuri ignored the burning of her feet, today more than any other, she could not have limitations. Her brain was screaming at her to stop, right now, to drop to the floor, but she could be too late already. She needed to see her father, needed to know she could fulfil her duties and serve her family and country, to become the Black Panther when her country had needed it most. It had taken a full day of goading herself to finally realise her attitude was wrong, she couldn’t waste potentially the last opportunity she had to see her father. Knowing that her uncle was the greatest healer in the country, she knew that there can’t have been much time left for him to have visited her in such fervour. Time wasted. Shuri could not shake that those wasted moments would come to haunt her. She did not want her efforts to attain the mantle clouded by guilt, or at least that’s why she told herself she had to go. Clouding how she really felt helped push her forward, if she lost her nerve now, she would become too emotional and break. If she lost her father she had to know she could carry on, and she had to carry on for the right reasons, service fuelled by resentment would never make her a great warrior. Run, climb or crawl. She would make it to her father’s bedside. - The Queen had spent the last day between T’Chaka’s bedside and the widow, praying her daughter would return. T’Chaka could barely speak, the fever had weakened him, it frightened her to see him like this, so rapidly deteriorating, so quickly losing her safety, her comfort, her strength, all personified in her husband. M’Baku had brought in countless warriors into the palace compound since the king had taken ill, especially now her son was gone the throne was in danger. A towering colossus of a man had stood beside her husband for many years, a close advisor to T’Chaka providing military support. The king had gained M’Baku in action when fighting against the White Gorilla cult over twenty years ago, he’d defected from his people to save the King and continued to be a loyal asset ever since. If there were anyone to put faith in securing the compound for the family, it would be him. Queen Ramonda traced her hands over the Black Panther mask. Wakanda needed a signal of strength, it had been a devastation to the people’s confidence when T’Challa had left, if they found out the king could no longer fulfil his vows to protect them, the turmoil that would ensue could damage the future of this kingdom T’Chaka had worked tirelessly to safeguard. The Wakandan people would know the country’s sanctuary would be challenged. - M’Baku paced along the compounds fortified walls. His loyal warriors had flocked to the palace as he had commanded. They were secure from every angle for miles around, the impenetrable force of the men and women that stood unmoving in their dedication to him had comforted the Queen and the council members inside. Although news of the Black Panthers failing health hadn’t reached the people it wouldn’t be too long before it happened panic would set in, some would come to demand answers, other to demand the throne. Years of T’Chaka’s compassionate attitude towards the people had been something he’d been working to change for a long time. A lenient, charitable course of ruling can only have given the people an idea of the kings Achilles heel. T’Chaka had shown weakness in his indulgent treatment of his subjects. As safe as the show of security made the ones inside, the real danger for Wakanda lay within these walls, what was coming would be the coupe de grace for the family that had put the future of the Black Panther rule at risk. [center]***[/center] [b]America Location Unknown[/b] The dark military hanger was lit only by one office, a harsh light poured over layers of technical plans scattered over the tables. T’Challa casting a slender shadow over his work. His assistant leant around the doorway to find T’Challa cursing, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression. “Uh, boss I’m heading out. Are you sure you don’t need me to drop you home, you look like you could use a break” B’Tumba had been a long time friend of T’Challa, he had been the one who had helped him realise that AIM could do some good with the right technology behind them. B’Tumba had moved from Wakanda a year ago to progress findings with AIM, and since T’Challa had arrived, been a solemn reminder of why they had to continue. They had been in the military together back in their country; during an uprising they had both been a few meters away from the explosion that had killed B’Tumba’s family. T’Challa couldn’t forget the screams, he wouldn’t let himself, not until he could develop a solution to the seemingly unending stream of wars. “Thank you B’Tumba, you can go, rest. I’ll need your help in the morning. Our targeting results are way off and I’m going to need you to set up a ballistics test first thing.” “Sounds like it’s going to be another relaxing day for me then. I’ll bring coffee, although by the looks of you it doesn’t look like that that’s going to save you. Take it easy, man.” Three nights, T’Challa had not slept in three nights. The field tests had failed. The sonic missile hadn’t been successful, he knew time was growing short and he couldn’t fail his employer, this is everything he’d been working for. He’d heard whisperings of what had happened to his predecessor upon his failings. But he knew he was smarter, he had brought his findings from his studying in Wakanda. AIM had sought him out, they had recognised that for them to become a technologically superior nation like Wakanda they would have to turn to the ones keeping it afloat, continually improving the nation to keep it as the strongest. And no one had been working as tirelessly in the field as T’Challa. Someone had finally recognised him for his talents; rather than try to limit his accomplishments in his research. AIM had commissioned him to make a non lethal sonic missile, to enable them to immobilise a large number of people. T’Challa had accepted the task believing he could to provide a way to prevent more needless casualties. He’d seen enough bloodshed in his time with the military in Wakanda. Being a symbol of security didn’t have to come from accomplishments in fighting and war. He knew he could never be the Black Panther. The Black Panther had become feared by other nations, and to some a challenge to defeat. If the mantle still existed it would only continue to bear opposition. He had to prove his country didn’t need a masked crusader to protect them, and until then he wouldn’t be a part of it.