Planes, tanks, artillery, soldiers.
Under the eyes of the entire world, the American military completed its encirclement of Wakanda. It wasn't just America, either. Several NATO nations had eagerly joined the operation, sending warships and troops of their own in hopes of carving off a share of whatever prize lay hidden behind Wakanda's borders. Britain, France, Canada—every one of them had shown up with greedy eyes and polished rhetoric, pretending to stand for justice while quietly calculating how much vibranium and technology they might be able to drag home.
But the United States wasn't stupid.
Those allied forces had all been pushed to the very front line.
If the first blood was going to be spilled, Washington had every intention of letting its "partners" bleed first.
The overall battlefield commander was General Ross, a hawk among hawks and a man whose name alone carried the smell of gunpowder. After the Hulk incident, his career had nearly been finished, and most people assumed he would spend the rest of his life rotting in some secure office while younger men took the glory. The media had whipped this Wakanda operation into a patriotic frenzy, but the Pentagon knew perfectly well what it really was—a straightforward war of invasion and plunder. Most senior officers were smart enough to stay away from that kind of stain, but Ross saw opportunity where others saw risk. He had volunteered before anyone else could even pretend to consider it.
Inside the royal palace of Wakanda, the atmosphere was as tense as a drawn bowstring.
Old King T'Chaka sat with the tribal elders, the queen, T'Challa, Shuri, and several of Wakanda's most important figures as they argued over how to respond. The American siege had finally forced them to accept a brutal truth. Wakanda was in real danger. This was no diplomatic bluff, no harmless show of force from a foreign power looking to posture. The enemy had come to strip them bare.
T'Chaka slammed his hand onto the table hard enough to shake the room. "The United States is nothing but a pack of hegemonic bastards," he growled. "They talk about missing soldiers, but that's just an excuse. What they really want is our technology and our vibranium. Look at the lies in their newspapers. They have no shame at all."
An elder with a heavy lip plate let out a long breath and rubbed at his forehead. "They've surrounded us completely. We need to decide how to survive this disaster."
A female elder spoke next, her face tight with worry. "The American general is demanding unconditional surrender before midnight. They want their troops inside our borders, their mining companies inside our land, and their research institutes inside our cities. If we accept, Wakanda will be hollowed out within a few years."
Another elder snorted in contempt. "Surrender? To them? Never. Those arrogant American soldiers have no idea what kind of power Wakanda possesses. Gather our greatest tribal warriors. Put them on vibranium-armored rhinos, place spears in their hands, and send them out in capes of living metal. Let those invaders taste fear."
T'Challa finally spoke, his voice calm but firm despite the heat in the room. "I don't believe a direct war with the American military is wise. We are too few, and every Wakandan life matters. We should talk while we still can. We can share some of our technology in limited ways. We can release small quantities of vibranium. Perhaps the outside world is right about one thing. We should not have remained silent while disasters consumed the rest of humanity. Vibranium is a gift, and maybe it should be used to give something back."
His words exploded like sparks dropped into dry grass.
"Nonsense!"
"Vibranium belongs to Wakanda alone!"
"T'Challa, remember your place. You are heir to this nation, not a spokesman for foreigners."
"You should be thinking about Wakanda first, not the feelings of outsiders."
Even the old king turned a hard gaze on his son.
Then Shuri stepped in, shaking her head. "Brother, I don't agree with you." Her dark eyes flashed with stubborn pride. "I built our technology to protect Wakanda, not hand it over to people who crossed an ocean to threaten us."
She turned toward the throne. "Father, we should strike them with everything we have. Crush them so completely that none of these foreign savages ever dares to look down on Wakanda again."
The room fell quiet for a few seconds after that.
T'Chaka looked from face to face, weighing pride, fear, anger, and desperation, then finally made his decision. "Issue the order," he said. "Assemble Wakanda's strongest forces. Put every fighter and every soldier on alert. If America wants war, then we will show them what it means to attack Wakanda."
"Father!" T'Challa called out, unable to stop himself.
T'Chaka turned to him and answered in a steadier tone. "Negotiations can happen only between equals. The Americans will never treat us as equals until they have seen our strength with their own eyes."
T'Challa froze, then slowly lowered his head. "I understand, my king."
T'Chaka looked over everyone gathered there, raised his voice, and roared, "Wakanda forever!"
The cry was taken up around the room like a flame racing through dry brush.
Far away, on the Atlantic Ocean, inside the command center of the USS George H. W. Bush, General Ross stood with a secure phone in one hand and a battlefield display glowing in front of him.
President Obama's voice came through the line. "So, General, what's your operational plan?"
Ross paused just long enough to sound thoughtful. "Mr. President, our ground forces already have Wakanda surrounded. What we need now isn't a detailed battle plan. What we need is resolve."
Obama sounded irritated. "Resolve?"
Ross smiled faintly, the expression hard and humorless. "I need to know how far you're willing to let me go. To what extent am I authorized to destroy Wakanda?"
There was a stretch of silence on the other end.
Obama finally answered, slower now. "I have to remind you, General, that our intelligence indicates they may possess extremely advanced aircraft and weapons."
"Yes, Mr. President," Ross said. "Which is why I asked. This may be a war with an unpredictable outcome."
Obama's tone sharpened. "I'm not interested in discussing how much of Wakanda you want to destroy. I'm telling you to take that damn country for me and minimize American casualties."
Ross's smile deepened. "Understood, Mr. President."
A beat passed. "Understood what?"
Ross looked down at the ocean map beneath his hand. "There are three Ohio-class strategic nuclear submarines under these waters. If minimizing casualties is truly the priority, then one of them should be ready to fire at a moment's notice."
Obama went dead silent.
A dark memory had clearly surfaced in his mind, because when he spoke again there was something strained in his voice. Ross's meaning had been obvious. If the first shot didn't do the job, the second would.
After the call ended, Ross immediately issued the order.
If Wakanda refused to surrender, the attack would begin at eight o'clock sharp—one hour from now. At that moment, thousands of artillery pieces would open fire together. Warships on the Atlantic would launch wave after wave of missiles. Hundreds of aircraft would join the opening strike, dropping bombs and saturating the target before the defenders could properly react. Ross had already made up his mind. Wakanda had to be smashed flat as fast as possible.
Evening winds swept across Africa.
Most animals had already settled into the stillness of the night, but some predators remained awake, hidden in the grasses with pale eyes shining in the dark. Their bodies were tense and patient as they watched the world around them, ready to spring on anything weak enough to become dinner.
Then the sky screamed.
Sharp, ripping sounds tore through the night overhead as cylindrical projectiles spun forward with blazing tails. They crossed the darkness like burning spears and slammed into something invisible.
A blue flash flickered across the sky.
Then came the explosions.
But that was only the beginning.
More shells followed in dense waves, falling like steel rain. The earth shook under the force of the bombardment, and the surrounding wilderness exploded into chaos. Prey and predator alike jolted awake in terror. Some bolted at once, hooves pounding through the brush. Others snarled, retreated, and vanished back into burrows and caves. Across the ancient African land, another savage hunt had begun—only this time, men were the beasts.
Inside Wakanda's combat command room, Shuri clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached. "Those shameless bastards," she snapped. "They said the surrender deadline was midnight. It's only 7:58, and they've already started firing. They don't even pretend to have honor."
T'Chaka stood beside her without visible panic. "How many fighters are ready?"
"Just over half."
His gaze shifted to the energy shield's status display. In less than a minute, the barrier had already absorbed tens of thousands of impacts, and the integrity indicator was falling with frightening speed.
Seventy-three percent.
Then another alarm screamed through the room.
Shuri glanced at the new data, and the color drained from her face. "My king, thousands of missiles are inbound. There are hundreds of fighter jets behind them."
T'Chaka's expression finally tightened. "Can the shield hold?"
Her fingers flew across the console. "According to the calculations, after the missile wave hits, barrier integrity will drop to five percent."
"Charge the laser cannons now," T'Chaka ordered. "The moment the shield collapses, destroy every aircraft you can."
Shuri moved instantly, but the tension in her voice only worsened. "Without the shield, we can't block all incoming artillery. Wakanda may suffer catastrophic losses. There are too many of them."
Behind them, T'Challa, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward and struck his chest with his fist. "My king, let me take a fighter out. I can destroy their artillery and tanks before they close in."
T'Chaka looked at his son for a long moment, then slowly shook his head. "No. I'll go myself."
Both T'Challa and Shuri stared at him in shock.
Before either could protest, Queen Ramonda approached T'Challa with several attendants. "My son," she said, her voice low but firm, "the Heart-Shaped Herb trial has been prepared for you. Tonight, you will inherit the mantle of the Black Panther."
Ignoring every objection thrown at him, King T'Chaka put on the Black Panther suit once more and boarded his personal aircraft.
His jet had barely cleared the launch platform when the missile storm arrived.
Thousands of warheads smashed into Wakanda's energy shield without mercy, bursting into endless fire across the heavens. From the city below, it looked as though the entire sky had been set ablaze. Flame rolled over the barrier in wave after wave until the shield shuddered under the strain, flickered violently, and finally shattered in a pulse of blue light.
For the first time, Wakanda lay naked beneath the stars.
Hundreds of enemy fighters appeared across the distant horizon, missiles armed and guns primed.
Then several green laser beams lanced upward from the ground.
They cut through the sky like divine swords.
In a single sweep, every American and coalition aircraft in their path detonated in midair.
The troops on the ground and the frontline commander could only stare, mouths hanging open in disbelief. He stumbled back into the command room, grabbed the phone, and barked, "General, the first air wave—completely destroyed!"
"I know."
That was all Ross said.
Then he hung up.
The frontline commander's face twisted. He grabbed the signal officer by the collar and roared, "Pass it on. Every combat unit, maintain maximum fire. I want every shell you've got poured into Wakanda."
Inside the city, fires had already started on the outskirts.
Now that the shield was gone, the incoming shells could no longer be fully intercepted, and it was only a matter of time before the flames spread deeper into the city. Shuri looked down at the radar again, and her expression changed a second time.
She snatched up the communicator and shouted, "My king, the second wave of missiles and fighter jets is attacking Wakanda!"
....
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