The Blonde Prince Of Wakanda (CH 2) (Patreon)

A/N: This story is rated M for mature content not suitable for children.

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Chapter 2: The Weight of the World

The cockpit of the scout ship was cramped, smelling of hot electronics and the faint, metallic scent of the internal oxygen scrubbers. Outside the reinforced glass, the Atlantic Ocean was a slate-gray void, churned into white-capped peaks by a storm that had been brewing for days. M’Naru kept the craft low, skimming the surface of the waves at speeds that would have made a standard Wakandan pilot sick to their stomach.

He didn't have the luxury of a smooth flight. To avoid the long-range radar of the Wakandan border wall and the various global monitoring stations, he had to fly in the "dead zone," the turbulent air just feet above the water.

"Distance to target: fifty kilometers," the voice of Bast chimed through his headset. "The Hydra vessel has deployed a deep-sea submersible. They are currently tethered to a structure approximately three hundred meters below the surface."

M’Naru tightened his grip on the flight stick. His knuckles were white, the conductive tattoos on the backs of his hands glowing with a soft, restless blue light.

"What kind of structure?" he asked.

"The signature is consistent with a mid-sized transport vessel of Wakandan origin, M’Naru. It has been heavily corroded by the salt water, but the vibranium hull remains intact. That is what they are cutting through."

M’Naru felt a surge of cold fury. They weren't just scavenging; they were desecrating a grave. That ship was the last place his mother and father had been alive. It was the place where his father had bled out while trying to buy enough time for his mother to draw one last breath.

"Engagement protocols, sir?" Bast asked.

"Loud and fast," M’Naru replied, his voice dropping an octave. "I’m not here to play spy. I’m here to remind them why they should have stayed in the shadows."

He adjusted the controls, the scout ship’s engines roaring as he accelerated. He wasn't worried about the cloaking field anymore. He wanted them to see him coming.

The Hydra salvage ship, the Gorgon’s Eye, was a monstrosity of industrial engineering. It was a converted freighter, bristling with illegal weapon platforms and advanced sonar arrays. On the deck, men in tactical gear moved with the precision of soldiers, their weapons held at the ready as they monitored the cranes lowering equipment into the dark water.

In the center of the deck stood a man who looked out of place among the mercenaries. He was lean, dressed in a tailored gray suit that seemed unaffected by the spray of the ocean. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and his skin was unnaturally pale. This was Baron Wolfgang von Strucker’s local point man, a specialist in recovering "lost assets."

"Status on the hull breach?" the man asked, his voice thin and reedy.

"We’re through the first layer, sir," a technician replied from a nearby console. "But the metal is fighting back. Every time we apply the thermal drill, the vibrations dissipate into the surrounding structure. It’s like the ship is eating the energy."

"That is the nature of vibranium," the man in the suit said, a hint of greed in his tone. "Keep at it. We need the data drive in the central cabin before the Wakandans realize we’re here."

He was interrupted by a sudden, shrill alarm.

"Sir! Fast-mover approaching from the south! Low altitude, high velocity!"

The man in the suit turned toward the horizon, his brow furrowed. "A Talon fighter?"

"No, sir. The signature is too small. It’s... wait, it’s gone off the radar!"

A split second later, the air above the Gorgon’s Eye seemed to shatter. A sonic boom rocked the ship, shattering the glass in the bridge and sending men sprawling across the deck. A sleek, black shape screamed overhead, pulling into a tight vertical climb before banking sharply and diving straight back toward the freighter.

"Open fire!" the man in the suit screamed.

The ship’s automated turrets roared to life, filling the air with a curtain of lead. But the scout ship moved with an agility that defied physics. It danced through the tracers, its thrusters firing in short, violent bursts that allowed it to change direction mid-air.

As the ship cleared the stern of the freighter, a hatch on the bottom opened.

A single figure dropped out.

M’Naru didn't use a parachute. He didn't have a wing-suit. As he fell through the air, he held his arms out, the gravity gauntlets on his wrists humming with a deep, resonant tone. Twenty feet above the deck, he slammed his palms together.

The air beneath him compressed into a visible ripple of distorted space. The kinetic energy of his fall was absorbed and redirected downward in an instant. He hit the deck with the force of a falling star, the reinforced steel buckling beneath his boots. A shockwave of pure force erupted from the point of impact, tossing the nearby mercenaries into the air like ragdolls.

M’Naru stood up slowly, the blonde hair of his head whipped about by the wind. He looked at the men around him, his blue eyes cold and pitiless.

"You’re on private property," he said, his voice carrying easily over the roar of the storm.

"Kill him!" the man in the suit ordered, retreating toward the bridge.

The mercenaries didn't hesitate. They opened fire with submachine guns, the air filled with the scent of cordite.

M’Naru didn't dodge. He raised his left hand, the gauntlet glowing bright blue. A shimmering translucent shield of gravitational force flickered into existence in front of him. The bullets didn't just stop; they slowed down as they hit the field, their kinetic energy drained until they simply fell to the deck in a pile of useless lead.

He stepped forward, his movements fluid and predatory. He flicked his right hand toward a group of three soldiers. A pulse of invisible energy shot out, hitting them like a physical wall. They were launched backward, clearing the railing of the ship and disappearing into the churning waves below.

"Bast, lock down their communications," M’Naru commanded. "I don't want them calling for backup."

"Signal jammed, sir. I am also hacking their internal systems. Would you like me to vent the engine room?"

"Not yet. I want them to see what’s coming."

He moved across the deck, a whirlwind of calculated violence. He didn't use a gun. He didn't use a blade. He used the very laws of the universe. He would catch a mercenary's punch, the gauntlet absorbing the impact, and then return that same energy tenfold into the man's chest, sending him skidding across the deck with cracked ribs.

He was halfway to the bridge when the deck beneath him shuddered.

A bulkhead exploded outward, and a figure blurred into the light. M’Naru reacted instinctively, crossing his arms in front of his face. A heavy, metal-shod boot slammed into his gauntlets, the force of the blow sliding him back ten feet.

He looked up to see a woman standing there. She wasn't Hydra. She was dressed in a sleek, dark tactical suit that bore no markings, her red hair tied back in a practical braid. She held two electrified batons, and her gaze was as sharp as a razor.

"You’re not Wakandan," she said, her voice calm despite the chaos around them.

M’Naru straightened up, a smirk playing on his lips despite the sting in his forearms. "And you’re definitely not a mercenary."

"I’m the one who was supposed to get that data drive before the boys in the suit showed up," Natasha Romanoff replied, her eyes narrowing as she took in his blonde hair and his glowing tech. "Who are you? And where did you get that gear?"

"I’m the guy whose family is currently being robbed," M’Naru said. He lowered his stance, his gauntlets beginning to pulse with a steady, rhythmic beat. "Look, lady, I don't have time to exchange resumes. Hydra is currently drilling into my mother’s grave. Either get out of my way or help me kill them."

Natasha glanced toward the bridge, where the man in the suit was frantically barking orders into a radio. She looked back at M’Naru, her expression unreadable.

"I don't kill unless I have to," she said.

"Then stay back," M’Naru replied. "Because I have to."

Before she could respond, a squad of Hydra soldiers emerged from the lower decks, carrying heavy energy rifles. They didn't aim at M’Naru; they aimed at the deck beneath him.

"Flash-bangs!" Natasha shouted, diving for cover.

The air erupted in a blinding white light. M’Naru’s enhanced sensors in his gauntlets automatically dimmed his vision to protect his eyes, but the sensory overload was still massive. He felt a searing heat near his shoulder as an energy bolt grazed him.

"Bast! Full sensory compensation!"

His vision snapped back into focus, the world outlined in sharp, tactical highlights. He saw the soldiers repositioning. He saw Natasha moving like a shadow, taking out two of them with precise strikes to the neck.

M’Naru didn't wait. He leaped into the air, using a burst from his boots to propel himself over the soldiers. As he came down, he slammed both hands into the deck.

"Gravity Well: Level Three!"

The gravity in a twenty-foot radius around him suddenly increased by a factor of five. The Hydra soldiers were slammed into the floor, their bones creaking under the sudden, immense weight. Even Natasha, who was outside the primary radius, stumbled, her breath hitching.

M’Naru walked through the zone of crushed men, his own gauntlets neutralizing the effect for him. He reached the bridge doors and ripped them off their hinges with a single, gravity-enhanced pull.

The man in the suit was there, holding a small, silver data drive. He looked at M’Naru with wide, terrified eyes.

"You don't know what you're doing," the man stammered. "This data... it’s the key to the next stage of human evolution. Hydra will never stop hunting you for this."

M’Naru walked up to him, the blue light of his tattoos reflecting in the man's glasses. He reached out and wrapped a hand around the man's throat, lifting him off his feet with effortless strength.

"I’ve spent my whole life being hunted by people like you," M’Naru said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "My father died so this drive wouldn't fall into your hands. My mother died because she wouldn't give you her secrets."

He tightened his grip, the man's face turning a dark shade of purple.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't drop you into the ocean right now."

"I... I have coordinates," the man gasped. "The other sites. The ones your mother hidden. Places... places with the same energy."

M’Naru paused. He looked at the data drive in the man's hand. If there were other sites, other pieces of his mother’s legacy, he couldn't let them stay hidden. Not if Hydra knew where they were.

A hand rested on his shoulder. It was light, but firm.

"He’s more useful alive," Natasha said, standing just behind him. She was breathing hard, her suit scuffed from the fight. "SHIELD can get more out of him in an hour than you can by killing him."

M’Naru looked at her, then back at the man. The fury was still there, a hot, burning coal in his chest. But he was also a genius. He knew that information was power.

He snatched the data drive from the man's hand and then tossed him toward Natasha like he was a piece of trash.

"He’s yours," M’Naru said. "But the drive stays with me."

"That wasn't the deal," Natasha said, her hand moving toward her belt.

"There was no deal," M’Naru countered, his blonde hair messy and his blue eyes shining with a sudden, mischievous light. He took a step toward her, his height allowing him to look down into her face. "And besides, if you want it, you’re going to have to take it from me. And we both know you’d rather spend the next hour trying to charm me into giving it to you."

Natasha didn't blink. A small, dry smile touched her lips. "You’re very confident one."

"I’m a prince," M’Naru said, leaning in until he could smell the faint scent of gunpowder and rain on her skin. "We’re allowed to be a little arrogant."

Suddenly, the ship groaned. A massive explosion rocked the lower decks, followed by the sound of rushing water.

"The submersible," Bast reported. "The Hydra technicians initiated a self-destruct sequence to prevent the recovery of the Wakandan vessel."

The freighter began to tilt sharply to the port side.

"We need to go," Natasha said, grabbing the unconscious Hydra official by his collar. "The ship is going down."

"My ship is on the stern," M’Naru said. He looked at the data drive in his hand, then tucked it into a secure compartment in his gauntlet. "Do you have a ride, or are you hitching with me?"

Natasha looked at the sinking freighter, then at the sleek, black scout ship hovering just off the deck. "I have a quinjet on the way, but I think I’ll take the scenic route."

The flight back toward the African coast was quieter. Natasha sat in the co-pilot seat, her eyes fixed on the holographic displays M’Naru had built. She was silent, observing the way he handled the ship, the intuitive, almost instinctual way he adjusted for the wind and the waves.

"You’re not like the other Wakandans I’ve met," she finally said.

"I get that a lot," M’Naru replied, not looking at her. "I’m the family embarrassment. The one they keep in the basement so the neighbors don't see the blonde hair."

"Your tech is advanced. Even for Wakanda. I’ve seen Stark’s work, and I’ve seen what your country puts out. This is... different. It’s more personal."

M’Naru glanced at her. "It’s a necessity. If I want to survive in a world full of gods and monsters, I have to build my own divinity."

"And the data drive? What’s on it?"

"My mother’s life’s work. Biological research, mineralogy, things that could change the way we look at energy." He paused, his expression darkening. "And the reason she was murdered."

Natasha leaned back in her seat, her gaze softening for a brief moment. "I know what it’s like. To have your past defined by people who wanted to use you as a tool. But you have a choice, M’Naru. You can use that data to hide, or you can use it to fight."

"I’m already fighting," he said.

"Against Hydra? Sure. But what about the rest of the world? There’s a team forming. People with gifts. People who want to make sure things like this don't happen to anyone else."

M’Naru laughed, a sharp, cynical sound. "I’m not a hero, Natasha. I’m a womanizer with a temper and a love for expensive wine. I don't do the 'team' thing. I do what’s best for me."

"We’ll see," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. It was a calculated move, he knew that. She was a spy, a master of manipulation. But the warmth of her touch was real, and the way her eyes lingered on his made his heart beat just a little bit faster.

"Keep the drive," she said. "For now. But SHIELD will be watching you. And so will I."

"I’m counting on it," M’Naru replied, his smirk returning.

He brought the ship to a hover as a dark, angular silhouette appeared in the sky above them, the SHIELD quinjet.

"This is your stop," he said.

Natasha stood up, grabbing the Hydra official. She paused at the hatch, looking back at him. "You’re a interesting man, M’Naru. Try not to get yourself killed before we meet again."

"I’ll do my best," he said.

She dropped out of the ship, her body a dark blur as she was winched up into the quinjet. M’Naru watched until the jet disappeared into the clouds, then he turned his ship back toward Wakanda.

The sun was rising as he crossed the border. He didn't head for the palace. He headed for a small, secluded bay on the northern coast, far from the prying eyes of the Border Tribe.

He landed the ship and stepped out onto the sand, the cool morning air filling his lungs. He felt exhausted, his muscles aching from the strain of the gravity gauntlets, but the fire in his chest had settled into a steady, low burn.

He pulled the data drive from his gauntlet and held it up to the light.

"Bast, begin the decryption. I want to see everything."

"Processing, sir. It will take several hours to bypass the triple-layered encryption."

M’Naru sat down on a piece of driftwood, looking out at the ocean. He knew that by now, T’Challa would be looking for him. The King would be furious. The Council would be calling for his head.

He didn't care.

For the first time in his life, he had something that belonged to him. Not a name given by a king, or a role defined by tradition. He had his mother’s legacy, and he had the power to protect it.

He thought about the redhead on the ship. Natasha. She was dangerous, smart, and beautiful in a way that made his head spin. She was the kind of woman his mother’s stories had warned him about, and the kind of woman he had always been drawn to.

He smiled, a genuine, tired smile.

"The Bastard Prince is going to be a very busy man," he muttered to himself.

He stood up, brushing the sand from his trousers. He had a kingdom to return to, a family to deal with, and a world to change. But first, he needed a drink. And maybe a very long nap.

As he walked back toward his ship, he didn't notice the small, silver drone hovering high above the trees, its camera fixed on his every move.

The world was watching. And M’Naru was just getting started.

Chapter End

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A/N: I decided to share this chapter ahead of schedule, and I hope you enjoy it. See you later!