"King, or so he says. Claims he inherited the throne from his father not long ago. One thing's clear—Wakandans have a lot more going on than they let on. Erik here… stole some kind of herb from Wakanda, got hunted down, and ended up here. Both of them were caught fighting over it."
Tony rubbed his beard over the chin, humming. "Herb? What's this? East India Company? And what's this about Vibranium I heard?"
"Our noble friend here didn't give up much. But Erik? He says Wakanda's sitting on a mountain of Vibranium. Says they've been using it to build tech that's hundreds of years ahead of the rest of us—kept hidden behind some damn good cloaking tech." He leveled a sharp look at the so-called king. "I've got satellites checking that out as we speak."
Tap, tap, tap!
Tony danced his fingers on the table, looking at the two men. Vibranium was a big deal, no doubt. But was it worth invading Wakanda? Invading nations for their natural resources was everything he stood against. But at the same time, he didn't like what he just heard.
"Alright, let's take him at his word. Wakanda's centuries ahead of the world—fine, sounds fun. But then why am I the one playing Saint? Why am I the guy shipping tons of food, patching up broken governments, and building schools, hospitals, and power stations? Shouldn't they have, I don't know… done some of that? Centuries ago?" Tony questioned, directly at the supposed King.
"T'Challa, is that right? Care to answer?"
Having researched Vibranium, and even developed it himself, he understood how magical that element was. And if Wakanda sat on top of such massive reserves, he could imagine a secret civilization far more advanced than the world.
"We did not hide out of malice, Stark. We hid because the world beyond our borders was built on greed… on conquest. We watched empires rise, their power built upon the broken. If Wakanda had opened its doors, we would have been consumed—like everything else." T'Challa responded, his words complete but accented. He stared back at Tony like an equal, like he really was the King.
"You say we should have helped. But I ask you… would the world have accepted our help without trying to take all that we are? History says it would not. So we did what we must. We protected our people. We chose silence… over war. Caution… over ruin."
Tony hummed and relaxed back, arms crossed. "Tell me. How long has Wakanda been so advanced?"
"Thousands of years."
Brows raised, Tony shook his head in disappointment. "All I hear is crying. You're telling me Wakanda's been sitting on sci-fi-level tech this whole time? While the world's been busy with plagues, famines, Mongol invasions—oh, and let's not forget a few casual empires steamrolling half the planet?
"Whole civilizations wiped out—your own backyard looted and strip-mined. And you just sat there. Watched it happen. With all that shiny tech, probably a few fancy aircraft too. Sorry, I'm not buying the innocent bystander routine. Sounds a little like a superiority complex to me.
"You looked at the world and thought, 'Wow, how barbaric. Let's not get our hands dirty with these peasants. We'll just hang out in our spotless little bubble.' And the fact that you showed up here, sprinting to save whatever magic herb that was… kinda proves my point."
"That's what I'm saying!" Erik exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "That's why I went in there and took that herb. It gives you superhuman strength. I wanted to take the throne and open up Wakanda!"
"Quack quack, don't care." Tony stood up, shooting T'Challa a look that could curdle vibranium. "Humanity's done okay without the golden, shiny Wakandan rescue squad. Sure, a couple of bumps along the way. Little things—world wars, genocidal maniacs—you know, average Tuesday stuff. Maybe if Wakanda had stepped out of their spa day a few decades earlier, we could've skipped the whole 'Hitler' chapter."
Yeah, Tony was being petty. But he wanted to be. He had to create nuclear fusion from scratch and create an Arc Reactor from scratch. All the while Wakandans probably had it all that time. He wondered how far he could have taken tech if he had had all those things available from the start. The possibilities left a bad taste.
He dusted off his hands like he was done with it. "But hey, no hard feelings. America will now cover the tab. We're not scared of being exposed or whatever your excuse is. I'll feed the world myself if I have to. Fury, pack 'em up. Let them go back to their Wakandan bubble. It seems cozy."
It was a pure humiliation ritual for T'Challa. But the man kept his mouth shut. The sole reason why he became the King while his father still lived was because he was inspired by Tony and his entry into the African continent. He wanted to join in and help the efforts. But T'Chaka refused, opting to stay hidden.
T'Challa knew it was no longer an option. At the speed Tony was advancing, it was only a matter of time before Wakanda would be exposed. He wanted to do it on his own terms. So, he challenged his father and won the throne. Sadly, that was also when his supposed cousin attacked.
He wanted to speak, but he kept silent. It was better to pay an official visit to Tony later as the Wakandan King instead.
"You sure? They entered illegally," Fury asked.
Tony shrugged as he let the nano-tech suit of armor cover him whole. "Let them go, Fury. One's a King, the other's a fugitive. I'm not signing up for an international incident today. Got bigger fish to fry."
However, as Tony reached the door, he looked back.
"Hop on the Shield Jet and hand-deliver them to Wakanda… You catch my drift?"
Fury's single good eye gleamed for a moment. His spy instincts kicked in. So it was going to be a ground inspection.
"Understood, Mr. President."
####
"He's very cute, Mr. Stark."
"Hey, I told you—call me Tony. I'm not that old yet," he said, passing her the photo Ororo had sent that morning on his phone. Chubby-cheeked Dexter, sound asleep, looked like pure trouble wrapped in a blanket. "Hard to believe, but yeah… I made him."
Wanda giggled, giving the phone back to Tony. "You asked for me? Mr… Tony?"
She just couldn't help it. Tony was her enemy once. Now a friend. But also the Iron Man and the US President. How anyone could treat him like an ordinary person was beyond her. But at least he was easy to talk to, she felt.
"I sure did," Tony said, already walking off in a plain sleeveless tank and utility pants. "Starting a new project. And maybe—big maybe—I've got a way to help you get a handle on that magic of yours. Emphasis on maybe."
Wanda followed behind, intrigued. All Tony had done over the year she'd been in America was help her and her brother. Not just them, but her entire home country was seeing a positive change. No longer starving, suffering, and dying of disease.
"How, Mr. Sta—Tony?"
"Heh, I caught that slip," Tony said with a quick grin, leading her into his workshop—sleek, shiny, and freshly Jarvis-approved for guests. Anything experimental, dangerous, or wildly confidential was already tucked away. "Ran into a magical myself, actually. Bald, ancient, a real minimalist—Sorcerer Supreme. Her magic wasn't like yours, but she called your stuff... Chaos magic."
That was a first for Wanda. "Chaos magic?"
Finally, Tony guided her to his work desk. There, he fired up a video recording on the holographic screen. It was a video of what happened in the Oval Office from the last day. The whole part where the Ancient One arrived.
"Give it a look and let me know if you can pull it off too."
Silently and in complete awe, Wanda stared at the screen.
Tony took that time to size up the twenty-something. Wanda seemed to have just one fashion—emo. Her deep crimson leather jacket clung snugly to her slender frame, cutting short at the tight waist, and flared subtly at her hips. Her figure, hourglass.
Beneath it, a low-cut black corset traced the curve of her torso, emphasizing the soft swell of her chest, and the delicate dip of her collarbone was exposed, pale, and striking against the dark attire. Her skirt, dark and teasingly short, skimmed the tops of her toned thighs, revealing long, shapely legs clad in thigh-high stockings, the sheer fabric hinting at the smooth skin beneath. Finishing with laced high-heeled boots.
But it suits her. Tony thought, liking her fashion sense.
Her pale face was framed with tousled, deep auburn hair. Her lips, clad in deep, blood-red lipstick, were thin and slightly pouty. And her most striking makeup, the eyeliner, stood out starkly.
"No, I don't think I can do this, Tony. My magic helps me with telekinesis, energy manipulation, and some neuroelectric interfacing." Wanda truthfully confessed. "I… I've never tried anything like this."
Clap!
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