B L A C K P A N T H E R
B L A C K P A N T H E R
Six Months Ago
Sterling, VA
“No running in the house, please,” Everett Ross shouted. His two kids ran past him in a blur of motion and ignored his command. Ross sighed and took a long sip from his coffee cup. They were never like this with their mother. He needed a shot or sixteen of caffeine more than ever today. He'd finally gotten home around three this morning after a long night at Langley writing a report. Now he was due back in at nine to go over that report with the Deputy Director of Intelligence.
Ross was mid sip when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. The caller ID showed it as a blocked number. Not unusual in the spook business. He tried his best to hush his children before giving up and walking into the next room.
“This is Ross.”
“Hello, Agent Ross.”
Ross knew the voice right away. Deep baritone with the accent. It had been a long time since they'd spoken. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“I would ask how you got this number,” Ross said softly. “But I know you. I lost a lot of sleep over you last night, by the way. I had to write a sixteen page report on the updated political situation in Wakanda and neighboring nations.”
“I wish I’d known, but I suppose that comes with the territory as the United States' foremost expert in Wakandan affairs. You know I did what I did for my people and my family, but if I had been told beforehand it would have cost Everett K. Ross to lose a good night’s sleep, maybe I would have reconsidered.”
A silence lingered between the two men, Ross was about to speak before he had his own question answered.
“I’m calling because I need help. Your help.”
“What can I do for you?”
There was no hesitation on Ross' part. Time and time again he had helped and saved Ross when his back was against the wall. He wouldn't be alive today if not for this man.
“I will be arriving in New York City tonight. I need, what is it your people call it? A cover story? New papers and a new name.”
“A legend,” said Ross. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “You need a new identity.”
“Yes… I left Wakanda with people tracking me. Very dangerous people. I have lost them for the time being. But it is a temporary solution. In order to settle into America and hide I need to become someone else.”
Ross began to feel paranoid all of a sudden. He was worried about the security of the phone line. He knew better than most how easy phone calls were tracked, traced, and recorded.
“I’m on Wakandan technology.” He seemed to be reading Ross’ mind. “Not even the best spy equipment your country has can decrypt the signal.”
“Okay,” Ross said slowly. “When you get to New York go to the NYPD 26th Precinct. We have an asset who works there. He’ll have everything you need. Ask for Sergeant Tork.”
“I thought it was illegal for the CIA to operate on American soil?”
“Your– do I still call you ‘Your Highness’?”
“Call me what you’d like.”
“Then buddy, you are in no position to lecture me on illegal intelligence ops.”
“I will see Sergeant Tork,” he said, ignoring Ross’ comment. “Thank you, Everett.”
“What do you want your new name to be?”
“I didn't realize I had a choice. I do not care about the last name, but Isaiah for the first. It means… salvation.”
“You got it,” said Ross. “... Be safe out there, Isaiah.”
The call ended and Ross tucked the phone back into his pocket.
“Okay kids,” he yelled through the house. “Get your shoes on and get to the car. We gotta go now now now!”
Now
Little Mogadishu
Brooklyn
Isaiah booted up the Kimoyo card and placed it on his kitchen counter. It took about twenty seconds for it to kick on and be ready to use. It was old tech, but at the end of the day it was still Wakandan and lightyears ahead of anything else its age.
He pulled out his flip phone and searched through the few contacts he had until he found Charlie Chinwe’s number. Using the card was able to trace the phone halfway across Brooklyn to Red Hook. Most tracing programs could only triangulate to the closest phone towers, but his program got it down to the exact block. According to a map of the area Charlie was moving fast in a car, heading east towards what looked like a group of housing projects. He pocketed the Kimyo card and checked his watch. A little after three in the morning. He had to move fast.
Red Hook, Brooklyn
Charlie pushed the junky car as fast as it could possibly go. It felt like the car was about to fall apart as he raced down the Brooklyn streets past eight miles per hour. TT sat in the passenger seat beside him with a Glock in his hands. In the backseat Roc had an honest to god AK-47 and O cradled a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. Black ski-masks disguised all their faces.
An SUV dawdled along at a slow pace. Inside that car were three armed men and over fifty thousand dollars in drug money. Their plan – O’s plan, really – was to separate those armed men from that money. Charlie held the gas pedal to the floor and took a deep breath as the car rammed in the back of the SUV. Both cars skidded sideways. Charlie steered into the skid and pulled on the car’s emergency brake, whipping the wheel so that they spun a 180 before stopping. Meanwhile the SUV spun off the street and smashed into a parked car before it pinballed to the other side of the street where it smashed against another parked car and came to a stop.
“Fuckin’ A,” TT said with a laugh. “The boy can drive.”
“Let’s go,” O barked.
The four started out the car when gunfire erupted from the SUV. Roc fell to the ground screaming while the other three would-be robbers hid behind the car. Charlie held on to the pistol O had given him while bullets peppered the car. A heavy stream of blood ran underneath the car towards a swear grate. Roc continued to moan on the other side of the car.
“We gotta move,” O commanded the two other boys. “We fucking stay here and we’re dead.”
O fired off a shotgun round over his head and began to move sideways along the car. TT followed his lead, but Charlie stayed frozen in place. He didn’t want to move anywhere, he didn’t want to fire his gun, he didn’t even want any of the money. He just wanted to be home, safe and secure with his mom. He prayed to god or whoever was above that he could get out of this safely and without going to jail.
Unbeknownst to Charlie...
He had someone up above looking out for him.
Morden Man
xVampire3go
Captain Uni
Memoria
Eddie Brock
Master Bruce
parelaxis
Cyrania
mattmanganon
