On the vast African savanna,a convertible jeep sped along.
Inside, Hawke gripped the steering wheel with one hand, glancing in the rearview mirror at the cheetah chasing his vehicle, while simultaneously talking on the phone with Gwen, who was visiting Berkeley University.
Today was Gwen's fifteenth day at Berkeley.
It was also Hawke's first day in Africa.
Don't ask why he just arrived.
Fifteen days ago, Hawke had just arrived at Paris airport, preparing to transfer to a flight to Africa, almost boarding, when news came from Africa that anti-government forces had seized control of the airport.
This was sad news.
But even sadder was that this had happened three times.
Because Hawke had initially chosen an airport closer to Wakanda, the rebooked flights were naturally also closer to Wakanda.
Perhaps because someone had set a precedent, anti-government forces in three other small African countries with airports also joined the fray.
Four small African nations near Wakanda instantly became embroiled in conflict.
The magical matching system of the African region was at work.
However.
Hawke ultimately arrived in Africa successfully, despite some setbacks along the way, the final result was good.
As for the process?
A few hardships, nothing more.
"Hah!"
The cheetah, which had been chasing Hawke with its strong limbs behind the jeep, roared and pounced onto the jeep with a thud.
Hawke, who had just finished a call with Gwen, turned around and slapped the cheetah on the head, sending it flying.
The cheetah let out a whimper.
Hawke glanced at the cheetah that had landed in the rearview mirror, shook his head, and seeing that it seemed mostly unharmed, only a little dazed, smiled slightly.
Then he stepped on the gas again and drove towards Wakanda, which was right in front of him.
Rather than calling Wakanda a country, it would be more accurate to say that Wakanda is a tribal state composed of several tribes.
At least that's how it appears to outsiders.
The current king of Wakanda is T'Chaka, the chief of the Golden Tribe.
The Golden Tribe is the core tribe of Wakanda, and almost every Wakanda king comes from the Golden Tribe.
This is all public information,readily available online.
However, few people in the world pay attention to such a small country.
Aside from the occasional news report when King T'Chaka goes to the United Nations to plead for aid, Wakanda is otherwise, in the eyes of most people, no different from any other small, relatively unknown African nation.
And so it went.
Wakanda, while occasionally appealing to the UN General Assembly for aid, secretly developed its resources by amassing a large amount of vibranium.
To the uninformed, it seemed Wakanda was playing a game of building high walls, stockpiling resources, and delaying its rise to power.
Until now!
*Screech!*
Hawke slammed on the brakes, the jeep's tires screeching across the grass before stopping in front of a settlement of about thirty tents.
Ostensibly a facade for outsiders, but actually belonging to a merchant tribe responsible for trade, economy, and diplomacy, several Wakandas exchanged bewildered glances as the jeep stopped before their settlement.
Hawke got out of the jeep and immediately saw a vast, pristine forest in the distance, visible to the naked eye and even from satellite imagery.
But when Hawke activated his senses, he saw something different.
He saw a gigantic golden dome, like a giant bowl, inverted over the forest, an area equivalent to the combined area of three small African countries.
He was right.
Wakanda was hidden deep within the undeveloped primeval jungle marked on the map.
Hawke thought to himself, then looked away and saw several Wakandans emerging from the tribe ahead.
These Wakandans were thin and looked malnourished, carrying wooden spears.
From their appearance, clothing, and weapons, they were the epitome of a primitive tribe.
Only the older Wakandan, who appeared somewhat healthier, was dressed more appropriately.
The older Wakandan, carrying a brightly colored stick—likely a symbol of tribal status—led several spear-wielding, wary members of his tribe to Hawke.
After observing Hawke, the older Wakandan composed himself, smiled slightly, and said in fluent English, "Welcome to Wakanda, outsider.
Are you here to trade with us as well?" He was a member of a Wakandan merchant tribe.
Their main responsibility was to facilitate the flow of goods between the various tribes of Wakanda, and to act as Wakanda's first line of defense.
They disguised themselves as impoverished Wakandans, lacking food and clothing, to interact with outsiders, communicate with them, and trade livestock such as cattle and sheep.
Therefore, he assumed Hawk was also there to trade livestock.
And indeed, Hawk was there to trade. Hawk smiled slightly at the elder Wakandan's words.
"Yes."
"Yesterday, Shanin's merchants bought over a hundred head of cattle and sheep from us. Now our tribe only has about fifty left. How many do you need?"
"One ton!"
Hawk smiled at the elder Wakandan and stated the quantity he needed.
The elder Wakandan was stunned by the number Hawk announced.
Seeing this, Hawk smiled again and added.
"I want vibranium, a ton!"
"..."
The previously stunned Wakandan's pupils instantly focused, his mind racing.
He looked up at Hawke with a blank expression:
"Vibranium? What's that?"
As an elder living in a tribe on the African savanna, it was perfectly normal for him not to know what vibranium was.
The Wakandans behind him, wielding spears, exchanged glances, seemingly equally clueless.
Hawke, too lazy to waste words, pulled out his phone, checked the time, and then looked up at the leading elder Wakandan, saying, "It's four o'clock in the afternoon.
You have one night. By seven o'clock tomorrow morning, either you give me the vibranium, or I'll go in and get it myself.
But whatever happens when I go in, you'll bear the consequences."
Having said that, he didn't bother to continue communicating with these obviously incapable Wakandans.
He reopened the jeep door, got in, pulled down the driver's seat, lay down, crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and began his pre-battle conservation.
Outside the car door.
After Hawke ignored them and got back into the car, the older Wakandan subconsciously tightened his grip on the stick in his hand.
Several Wakandans looked through the car window at Hawke, who appeared to be asleep, exchanging bewildered glances.
The next second.
One Wakandan lowered his voice, but just as he was about to speak, a sharp look from the older Wakandan silenced him instantly.
After a while.
The older Wakandan led several Wakandans back to a tent in the disguised tribe.
The Wakandans, as if seeing outsiders for the first time, stood inside the tribe, looking at the jeep parked not far away with curiosity and fear.
It must be said.
Their acting was superb.
After all, their acting had even fooled the Five Good People, so much so that the Five Good People genuinely believed that Wakandan was poor and allocated a sum of money to Wakandan every year for poverty alleviation.
Unfortunately they had encountered Hawke.
A time traveler who ignored their acting and went straight to the truth.
Night fell quickly.
A bonfire was lit in the Wakanda tribe, as if some kind of event was taking place, with many Wakandans gathered around it celebrating.
However while they chatted and laughed, their eyes were fixed on the abandoned jeep parked outside the tribe's compound.
As laughter rang out, the group seemed to forget to switch to their local language, continuing to whisper in English.
"Is he still in the car?"
"Yes."
"In Wakandan."
"It's okay, they can't hear us from that far away."
"Is he still lying down?"
"Yeah, he's been lying in the car since he got in this afternoon, hasn't moved."
"What about Len?"
"He went home."
"Okay, then we'll wait for news and keep an eye on him."
"Okay."
As the whispers ended, the group seamlessly returned to the spontaneous, sleepless night bonfire party they had just decided to hold.
Hawke, sleeping in the jeep, listened to the whispers of the group, a slight smile playing on his lips. He then ignored them, his mind drifting into his inner universe.
Under the interplay of the constellations Draco and Phoenix, the gates of his still-unattainable sixth sense resurfaced.
The next day.
Morning.
Hawke opened the car door, stretched, and pulled out his phone.
After checking the time, he found an open space and began his daily routine of 10,000 punches.
In a tent near Hawke's location in the tribe, two Wakandans were peering through a small hole at him as he punched thin air.
After a while,footsteps sounded outside the tent.
It was Lenn, the older Wakandan.
Lenn, who had returned home under cover of darkness the previous night to report, had come back with a dozen Wakandans.
Don't ask why he went home to report.
Their acting was superb.
In primitive tribes, communication relied on shouting.
Just as the elder Wakandan named Len was about to leave the tribe to drive Hawke away, another jeep appeared in the distance.
His accomplices?
The elder Wakandan stopped, watching this scene, and wondered.
Hawke also saw the jeep approaching.
At the same time he also saw the driver inside.
Bruce Banner!
…
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