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[b]Michigan[/b]

B’Tumba wringed his blistered wrist, looking across the room at the suited Shuri; she was pouring over his blueprints and documents from AIM. She had kept him tied to his radiator for about four hours whilst questioning him, growing frustrated and beating him when he couldn’t answer her questions. AIM had kept him in the dark about a lot of their plans; that was the nature of working for them. You’d be given resources that you couldn’t even dream to work with under any other company, a task and a time limit. AIM had trusted in him to be able to undertake every project they had given him. His time growing up in Wakanda and being close to T’Challa had afforded him great freedoms in what studies he wanted to progress, he’d always been beside T’Challa in his science and engineering classes, learning from the best and in turn becoming the best that the exceptionally technologically advanced country had to offer. 

The projects had come thick and fast, smaller time scales, more secretive tasks, on a no questions asked basis. He knew he wasn’t the best, He felt guilty for needing T’Challa, perhaps not even guilty, weak. He had come here because he wanted to step out from underneath T’Challa’s shadow and have his own platform of accomplishments. AIM had been secretly reaching out to some of the smartest in Wakanda through their connections within the compound. When M’Baku had reached out to him and shown him the promise that America held, and showed him how AIM needed him more than ever, he could not help be drawn in. Finally to be his own person, only to fail in his attempts and need the guidance of his friend.

It hadn’t taken much to convince T’Challa, working alongside M’Baku, the Black Panther’s trusted advisor, in planting seeds of doubt about his place in the monarchy of Wakanda. That, ‘perhaps he was meant for so much more, that he could make a greater difference elsewhere’. T’Challa’s superior intelligence was an asset to AIM, they had turned around their first project in but a few days, and they knew he was destined for better things. B’Tumba had always been jealous under the prince’s shadow, but it felt a familiar comfort to have him back. He just had to continue to prove himself, making sure AIM knew he was indispensible to T’Challa in his work, he had seen how easily they discarded workers that displeased them or didn’t live up to their high expectations.

He feared perhaps that was what had happened to his old friend. As much as he could find out was that an intruder had broken into the labs to steal information on what they were working on. They had succeeded. Initiating a self destruct sequence that ultimately rendered the last few months work into ash. He presumed AIM would have come after him in desperation, but he took comfort that they hadn’t, which gave him hope that T’Challa was still alive. He had to be. There was no way they would abandon their operations after this. Having been privy to some information as to where they were going to be using the sonic missile and knew that they were pushing production because they wanted to use it imminently, information he hadn’t dared to share with T’Challa.  

B’Tumba hadn’t told Shuri about M’Baku’s involvement, he had already been at the mercy of her temper, sure that his cheek bone was fractured and blood that he could only assume was from his split brow had pooled and dried under his chin. He had decided to avoid any personal detail with how he’d worked with the royal family’s most trusted advisor in taking her brother away from his responsibility, as much as he felt he owed the family, he also had some self preservation left.

This preservation would only be short lived, B’Tumba knew he wouldn’t have long left, AIM didn’t leave loose ends. Now that they had T’Challa and the sonic missile was already in production he could see no compelling reason from their end why a liability with knowledge of the company should be kept alive. He had spent all this time worrying for his friends’ safety but had failed to realise, bringing T’Challa to America had signed his own death order.

[b]“You’re going to need to show me how to access these secure files.”[/b]

Exasperated B’Tumba snapped; “What files Shuri? I don’t have that kind of clearance, and even if I did they have all sorts of security trigger alarms, they would know that it’s me, you’re essentially handing me to them on a plate.”

[b]“The idea of this is to find my brother, who, if I understood the letters between you both, you convinced to come here in the first place. So you put him in this position, endangering his life. I’m the one with the power here so given the choice of making you pay for what you’ve done and getting my brother back, I’m somewhat leaning in my brothers favour.”[/b]

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[b]
Wakanda.[/b]

S‘yan stood at the end of the darkened jail’s corridor, his palm against the steel door holding three members of the inner compound staff.

M’Baku broke the silence. “Your grace, we couldn’t have them attempting to leave the compound, the ones working in the inner compound know of the Black Panther’s death and T’Challa’s defecting. It’s too much of a risk, they were carrying messages to their families of the news when under sworn oath, you know the penalties for this.”

“As much as our king valued your expertise in security and matters of war M’Baku, your predisposition to make hasty violent retaliation disturbs me. These people have done nothing wrong-“

“With respect, they made a vow of service which they broke by attempting to leave, which we know is unacceptable at this so desperate time, let my men deal with this. They are not under the palaces law, as members of the White Gorilla, their actions won’t lay in your hands, I am merely upholding my promise to keep everyone in here safe and prevent panic outside these walls.”

“I cannot allow this to happen under my ward. But I also realise setting them free is a danger to us, I thank you for alerting me to this, we will have to keep them here until I receive word from Shuri about her brother's return, keep these workers well fed and comfortable, M’Baku, I trust you can  manage this?” S’yan turned, swinging his leopard cape across his shoulders as he strode away into the darkness of the corridor.

Baring his teeth, M’Baku couldn’t stifle the frustrated roar that came from within. On too many occasions these past years he has had to deal with the delicate ways in which these so called leaders had chosen to rule. If he was going to continue holding the upper hand in taking the compound from the inside, the last thing  he needed was the citizens being warned or causing an uprising when he had a much bigger hand to play. He had to take this into his own hands.

Unsheathing his scythe, he unbolted the reinforced door.