A soft shhhkkk—like glass un-sanding itself—broke the stillness of the cavern. Okoye heard it instantly. She spun, spear cutting a violent arc...
'Not bad.'
Spider-Man caught it. Two fingers, calmly effortlessly, as though the peak human had swung a reed.
Okoye's eyes flared, shock cracking through her composure like lightning through glass. W'Kabi inhaled sharply behind her, the first hint of fear finally reaching his voice. He did not look back. He shouldn't. Not with him.
"W'Kabi," Okoye breathed, never taking her eyes off the masked phantom before them. "Run."
He did.
W'Kabi bolted across the three short stone steps. Okoye knew she could not follow. This was Spider-Man. Unless she mustered all the strength and training of her life, she did not stand a ghost of a chance.
"So you are here at last." Okoye snarled, pivoted, and swung a vicious kick at his temple, a blow strong enough to crack metal. Schink! From the heel of her boot, a knife extended to stab into his brain.
'Creative.'
The knife snapped and her foot did nothing but make his head barely tilt. He didn't budge otherwise. A human-sized blade of panicking sweat rolled down Okoye's cheek.
Ahead, W'Kabi reached the two-inch deep water. Only two seconds had passed. He had the decision to try and destroy the fruits. He didn't. Desperation made him strange and drop down to one knee.
'Oh?'
He acted stranger than Spider-Man could have fathomed. Rather than an attempt on the fruits or even seizing them, W'Kabi scooped up a handful of the water, turned, ran back the five steps, and hurled it at Spider-Man. He wanted to save his wife. Was it the husband's willpower slightly eroding the mission? Or was it understanding that the only chance he had to do anything was to kill him with the Vibranium-tipped spear she wielded?
The water splashed against Spider-Man's shoulder.
The black Symbiote hissed. Steam curled off his synthetic suit, and Spider-Man loosened his hold on Okoye's trapped leg.
Okoye stumbled away, adrenaline blasting through her veins. She regained her stance. The tiny flicker of hope in her eyes hardened. There—there was an advantage.
"Now I've got you!"
Okoye shouted and lunged.
She thrust the spear, the tip of pure, sharpened vibranium screaming toward his chest. This time, she felt it—felt it slide through flesh. Felt the impact. Felt the resistance give way. Felt her puncture his lung.
Blood—real blood—ran down the shaft and dripped onto the stone.
Okoye's relief came in a shaking exhale. "Yes—"
Except she noticed she had not moved. He had not taken a step back. Hell, he hadn't even flinched or jerked in the slightest. Spider-Man looked down at the spear in his torso.
Then he began to walk forward.
Into the spear.
Okoye's mouth fell open. The word no died silently on her tongue.
He let them splash that water. He let her stab him. Really, this fight was nothing but performative. They didn't stand a chance. What stirred his curiosity and stopped him from slamming a palm into Okoye's chest to knock her out was W'Kabi's strange behaviour.
'He went right for the water. You people…how do you know my weakness?'
'Yessss, how do they know?'
The Symbiote hissed again, but weaker this time. The water already burned off, the wound already knitting. Spider-Man kept advancing, step by slow, patient step, impaling himself further, drawing closer and closer.
Okoye's hands trembled on the shaft. This was no human. This should have killed him. But no, it didn't. It just didn't.
"W-what…?"
Another step. The spear's guard pressed against his chest. He did not stop. One last step—and he was face-to-face with Okoye, blood sliding down his suit like blackened dew. The Symbiote licked up any blood that would dare stain the floor. If Spider-Man had ever been bleeding...
"What…what the hell are you?"
…it was no longer possible to tell.
Spider-Man's hand blurred.
CRACK!
His palm struck her across the jaw and Okoye's feet left the ground. She flew over the pool of water and the fruits, across the cavern, and slammed into the dome. She rolled onto the water and lay still, unconscious.
Spider-Man reached down, snapped the shaft of the spear cleanly, and pulled the vibranium tip out of his body with a wet sound. The wound closed behind it like a curtain.
He glanced over at W'Kabi. He was merely three feet away, his head curled over his shoulder. He had just watched his wife get blasted across. He was already on one knee from hurling the water and taking cover to watch. His wife—his warrior—lay unmoving on the stone. And he, the ideologue, the revolutionary, the man who dreamed of burning the world clean—could not lift a hand.
Slowly, W'Kabi looked up at Spider-Man. He gulped.
Spider-Man approached him. W'Kabi couldn't run. He couldn't scream. He couldn't even beg. He simply stared, wide-eyed, unable to comprehend the shape of the thing stalking toward him.
From the first to the final step, Spider-Man kept staring down at W'Kabi. His lens, his eyes, they seemed more eroded than usual. Two fingers curled upwards. The Symbiote listened and acted. Tendrils began to unfurl from his arms and wrap around W'Kabi. His feet left the floor.
"Y-you…!" W'Kabi breathed heavily. "Monster! Monster!"
From what he was doing…yes. He didn't seem like a hero. Feel like one either. He was hanging this man up and about to interrogate him.
"The Devil was right about your kind! He was! You…you need to die!"
The Devil. Again with him. And again with the obvious conclusion that it was the Devil that told these two revolutionaries about his weakness to water.
'If I kill them, I might be playing into the Devil's hands. I don't like to publicize who I kill. People won't feel comfortable with that. But if I let them go…' The tendrils squeezed and wrapped until they had completely blackened W'Kabi's arms and legs. '...the Devil might also be able to squeeze them out of the legal system.'
The Devil, whoever he was, possessed immense influence. W'Kabi and Okoye were the initiators of this whole murder. They were the protagonists, the puppets, of this murder play. And he, at the very back, was the puppet master.
"Here's the thing…"
Spider-Man was speaking. W'Kabi was shocked to hear it. He sounded…ordinary.
"I agree with you. You're right. I was listening to what you were saying to the king. These herbs…shouldn't exist. Neither should the Super Soldier Serum. And frankly, you did me a favour by killing Peggy Carter. She was a thorn in my side. I prefer Nick Fury."
The black ink that was the Symbiote peeled off the Wakandan's head. W'Kabi panted and gasped for the fresh air.
"You…you only want to be the only superhero."
"....a little, yeah. Because I trust myself to do the right thing. I'm a pretty normal guy, all things considered."
"Normal? You! No. You will become placant! You will become exactly like Peggy Carter!"
"A good point. To be honest, I'm not even sure what I'm capable of. If I secluded myself and studied for ten years, could I become immortal? Adjust my genes to that point? Maybe."
"You understand your place in the world…and what? You don't reject it," W'Kabi snarled. "You bathe in it. You hand out judgement."
"As did your boss. He knows quite a lot about me. I bet he told you about my weakness to water." W'Kabi twitched. Spider-Man continued, "Tell me, why did your boss kill Pepper Potts?"
There was a second twitch in his eyebrow. "You think she's one of the good ones? Her wealth alone causes disparity!"
"Harry Osborn then?"
"Son of a military arm company!"
This man…wasn't unreasonable. He was logical. W'Kabi wasn't manipulated by the Devil nor did he worship him. That was the vibe he was getting. "So he must be a collaborator of sorts. Someone you met at a party that you agree with."
That was why he twitched. W'Kabi did not agree that the Devil was his boss. Felicia was the same way too. This mastermind, he was established partnerships and was quite careful with them. Really, his only mistake was the potential employees he left alive at the auction. That, even then, was going to take some time to fully analyze and get an answer to.
W'Kabi couldn't tell if he made a mistake or not. He simply glared and pursed his lips.
"I'll spare you…if you tell me who the Devil is."
He didn't spit in his face, surprisingly. W'Kabi kept quiet. It only reinforced what he believed. Trying to torture him would not work, Felix suspected. 'Not to mention I'm not good at that kind of thing. I really struggle to be cruel.'
"How many people died from this little coup of yours?"
"...only three," W'Kabi admitted with some shame. "Three guards, that's it."
"You and your group killed soldiers. In war, that is far. You also killed truly heinous souls. At that auction, if it wasn't you and the Devil, then it would have been me. Hm." He was thinking. He was balancing out this man. "One for three. It is fair."
His tendrils loosened up. W'Kabi didn't understand. Was he being…spared? After ten long seconds of the Symbiote unfurling, W'Kabi's foot touched the wet pool. The first thing he did was look back at the fruits, then his wife. Grunting, he launched toward her.
"Okoye! Okoye! My love! My…love…"
He picked her up and shook. His heart dropped.
Okoye was dead.
"I snapped her neck. Her heart stopped beating six seconds ago. If you had told me the identity of the Devil, I might have saved her." His tendrils slithered and showed their unique, sharpening shape. A gesture to show he could have operated on her to save her. "Like I said, one for three."
W'Kabi roared and glared at him. "You bastard—"
Only to be knocked out by a backhand. He intentionally did not kill him.
Spider-Man stared down at the unconscious W'Kabi and the still corpse of Okoye. Her eyes were half-open, but there was no light behind them—no indomitable will, no pride, no fury. Just silence. He killed someone. As always…
'I don't like it.'
At the same time, he did not apologize. He did not feel triumphant either. He knew Okoye and W'Kabi. They were...his friends as Felix Faeth.
There was a strange bubble in his stomach. He killed Okoye. She understood the stakes of what she was doing. He understood his own logic. Still....
'Emotion should come later,' he told himself. 'You have a job to do, Spider-Man.'
For now, he crouched beside them both. Two tendrils opened compartments on his suit, producing a pair of needle-thin metal capsules, each no larger than a grain of rice.
He pressed one into the side of Okoye's neck and another into W'Kabi's. A quiet click, then both capsules unfolded inside the bloodstream, invisible and seamless. These were Nanite Spider-Bots. Miniaturized surveillance platforms with triple-backup encryption that made them only possible for his satellites to detect. These nanobots would track movement, record voices, monitor biometrics, and send it all back to Felix's computers.
If W'Kabi ever spoke to the so-called Devil, whether in a dark cell or quiet medical ward, Felix would know.
'If he goes to Okoye's corpse, I'll also know.'
It could even stop W'Kabi from speaking and telling anyone that the dark hero had been the one to kill his wife. Spider-Man rose, rolling his shoulders. He turned.
The Heart-Shaped Herbs glowed in a neat cluster on their pedestal. They looked different here, as though they were supposed to here. Probably because they were. Their pigment was richer than violet, deeper than ultraviolet. Four fruits. Four miracles.
'Four wars waiting to erupt.'
Spider-Man walked on the shallow water to the middle where the pedestal lay. Ripples distorted his reflection—the black silhouette of a thing the world whispered about, not knowing whether to fear or worship him.
He reached down. His fingers brushed the first herb. He remembered T'Challa's words, W'Kabi's warnings, and Peggy's hunger. He remembered how many people wanted these. How many would kill for them. How many already had.
"…You cause too much trouble."
His fist closed and the fruit burst like a heart under pressure, its luminous innards dripping between his fingers and dissolving into the water.
He crushed the second, the third, and the fourth. Each one popped beneath his hand. Once finished, he brushed the pulp from his palm. The Symbiote devoured the residue, displeased.
'Wassste.'
"It's for the best," Felix replied. His invisibility was set to return. He himself was going to leave. "Hebrie, is Shadowcat in position? Let's begin saving the princess."
***
Thirty minutes passed....
King T'Challa sat on the edge of his bed, finally clothed, shoulders still tense with adrenaline and shame. His eyes were fixed on the far wall, not quite seeing it. Felicia stood near the window with her arms folded, one leg crossed over the other, pretending to look relaxed.
The door slammed open.
"Brother!"
Princess Shuri burst inside, braids bouncing. She flung herself at T'Challa, burying her face in his chest. Her entire body shook.
T'Challa froze. "Shuri—! Y-you're alright!" He hugged her, only to freeze at the nextcomer.
Agent Shadowcat leaning against the doorframe with bloody claws, exhaling like she had just finished cleaning up a long, exhausting mess. Her expression was flat, unimpressed with all the panic in the room.
"Sorry 'bout the scare," Rogue muttered, wiping her hands clean on the torn sleeve of a Dora Milaje uniform. "Didn't have much choice. Had to put down your entire guard. Either dismember or kill. Coup was their doing, after all."
Shuri shuddered harder in T'Challa's arms, her fingers digging into his robes. He understood. Shuri had seen it. All of it. Shuri was smart and intelligent and also spoiled. She couldn't handle death. And not death from a woman that loved to kill for a living.
T'Challa's eyes widened. "You…you killed the Dora Milaje…?"
Rogue snorted. "They got me last time. Turnabout's fair play."
T'Challa wanted to speak. To reprimand her. To shout. To mourn. But he couldn't. Not with Shuri sobbing into his chest, not with Felicia watching like a hawk, and not with the air choking with political implications. And especially not with Rogue standing before him—a known SHIELD operative. He only knew that if SHIELD had done this, then Wakanda's hands were tied.
Politics demanded a hardened heart.
Felicia broke the sobbing silence with a smirk. "See? I told you my partner was here."
Rogue rolled her eyes.
"May I also confirm that W'Kabi and Okoye are taken care of, agent?" T'Challa asked Rogue pointedly.
"Yep. The first thing we did. Sorry, but Okoye and W'Kabi were top-priority here. We have them where you keep the fruits."
"They found a way there?" T'Challa pinched the bridge of his nose, stress. "I…I see…many thanks for defeating them."
T'Challa was very unaware of what was truly happening. He felt like a spider, trapped.
"This situation's a disaster, Your Highness," Felicia picked up. "Shuri being kidnapped. The Dora Milaje gone. A rebellion of this scale? No covering this up. Someone's taking responsibility. Either SHIELD gets the credit… or Wakanda does."
T'Challa's jaw tightened. He already knew where this conversation was going.
Felicia was cool and businesslike with her smile. "And unless Wakanda wants SHIELD owning this story and telling everyone it was the Americans or British that solved this, we'll need compensation. A reward for handling your little crisis."
T'Challa stared at her. "What…exactly…do you want?"
"Vibranium," Felicia said without hesitation.
Shuri jerked back from her brother, eyes wide. "H–here? Now?"
"You're the royal family. You got media everywhere. Like how the English media hounds Queen Elizabeth and Diana and whatnot, they hound you. Right now, the Dora Milaje told them of an emergency to get 'em off your back. What was it, a gas leak or an explosion? That'll only keep them at bay for the night. We walk out empty-handed in the sunrise, someone's gonna piece things together. Best handle this before sunlight hits."
The Dora Milaje, if they still had control, could have easily spoken to the media in King T'Challa's stead. Or, more likely, pressed a gun to his back and made him do it.
But that was no longer the case. The Dora Milaje were no longer managing this hostage situation on their terms.
T'Challa didn't hesitate.
He gently set Shuri aside and crossed the room. His hands moved on instinct—removing a framed painting, pressing his thumb to the biometric panel behind it. The safe hissed open, cold air sliding from within.
The king lifted two heavy briefcases and first opened them to show what was inside: pure Vibranium bars. He promptly handed them over.
"I appreciate what SHIELD has done today," T'Challa said.
Felicia accepted hers with a graceful bow. Rogue took the other with a grunt.
"Pleasure doin' business," Felicia chirped. "We'll be using a back entrance."
They walked out of the room, closed the door behind them, and immediately broke into a run. The blueprints of the palace were already in their head. They took two turns, burst into a room, and opened the balcony doors. Moonlight washed over the stone. Wind rattled the railing.
The balcony was empty until there was a shimmer with light folding inward—
"Phew. Thought you left us for a second, spider."
Spider-Man appeared, invisibility deactivating. See, Agent Shadowcat of SHIELD hadn't been alone when she saved Princess Shuri. When he left the cavern, he did so by coordinating with her. At the foyer, the invisible hero knocked out the guards before they could react and then together they went to save Shuri.
Ordinarily, someone like her would struggle with stealth and make the situation larger than it should have been. There was a signal for back-up in case of an attack on the palace. With Spider-Man and Hebrie by her side, none of that happened. Spidey struck when she couldn't. Herbie hacked when it was necessary.
That way, they were able to get to Shuri while only dealing with the traitorous Dora Milaje. Anyone that wasn't in on the coup was spared.
Shuri herself didn't even know it. She didn't know Spider-Man had been there to aid her. If she had, she might have been more suspicious about whether they were SHIELD and the legitimacy of everything.
All of it hinged on Spider-Man dealing with Okoye and W'Kabi first and it worked. The plan worked to picture perfection.
The suitcases were in hand.
"Hello~!" Felicia was ecstatic. The Black Cat immediately slid against him, arms around his waist. Rogue did the same.
Spider-Man wrapped an arm around each woman. This angle, this specific location, it was supposed to be surrounded by four drones. But this whole time, Herbie had been analyzing their flight patterns. There was a small window of opportunity, a line from the balcony and out of palace grounds where all the drones had their backs turned.
He waited, he waited…
The wall was right there. It was tempting.
'NOW, MASTER FAETH!'
Thwip! Two lines of webbing hit the halls and slingshot across. In half a second, all three of them had left the palace grounds.
Mission complete.