Sokovia, early morning. T'Challa had been released by Hong Fei. He'd removed his armor, though he looked haggard. After a quick examination, Big Head stepped back.
"Nothing major. Just some minor rib fractures. They'll heal fast with rest."
"Hmm, you can go," Hong Fei said, waving him off.
Once Big Head left, T'Challa pulled on his shirt and rose unsteadily from the bed. He crossed the room to Hong Fei, his steps uneven.
"I see your plan now. You want to use me to threaten Wakanda, to have my father ransom me with Vibranium. With all due respect, that won't work."
Hong Fei held a teacup in one hand and a tablet in the other. He set the cup down and lifted his gaze slightly.
"Oh? Why do you say that?"
T'Challa's expression hardened.
"Vibranium belongs to all of Wakanda. Wakanda is made up of five tribes. The royal family can't make unilateral decisions, especially about Vibranium. My father is the king, but he won't—and can't—betray Vibranium just for me."
"I know," Hong Fei said with a faint smile, returning his attention to the tablet.
"Then why are you doing this?"
T'Challa frowned, confused.
"I need a reason," Hong Fei said without looking up. "More accurately, an excuse."
"You won't succeed."
Hong Fei remained silent.
T'Challa pressed on.
"Wakanda is a nation. You should realize by now we're not as weak as the outside world believes. We have powerful warriors, yes, but also offensive weapons. Believe me, some of our weapons rival the nukes of the outside world."
"I believe you," Hong Fei said, nodding, but his expression didn't change.
T'Challa's frown deepened.
"I know if my father refuses, you'll resort to taking Vibranium by force. But that will only lead to mutual destruction."
Hong Fei finally looked up, his gaze steady.
"So what if it ends in mutual destruction? This conflict was irreconcilable from the start. I need Vibranium, but Wakanda won't trade it. If I can't get it by trading your life, I have no choice but to take it. No matter how strong Wakanda is, this is my only option."
"Why do you need Vibranium so desperately?"
"I need it to make weapons, create armor, and build a body. Don't ask for specifics; I won't tell you even if you do."
T'Challa sighed, resigned.
After a long silence, his eyes settled on the bronze-colored Ten Rings on Hong Fei's arm.
"How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"The Vibranium suit absorbs kinetic energy almost perfectly, yet you still injured me. And you struck me no more than five times."
"Five times and you think that's few? I think it's too many."
If Hong Fei hadn't been testing whether the power he wielded had any connection to Bast, he could have crippled T'Challa in a single punch. Still, he'd been decisive. When no special properties were detected, he switched tactics. Five strikes were more than enough.
"Don't focus on the Ten Rings. They're just weapons; they have little to do with it."
"Then it's that golden power you wield?"
"Not that either. It's a powerful force, yes, but the one who's truly powerful is me."
T'Challa suddenly smiled. "You're right. When one is strong oneself, any power used becomes even stronger. If one isn't strong enough, even the most powerful force is hard to control—it might even backfire. A warrior's foundation lies in their own strength."
Hong Fei looked at him, puzzled.
"You don't seem to hate me."
"My sister likes you very much."
"Uh..."
"Don't misunderstand. What she actually likes is the Dragon King. Do you know what she said to me when she recognized you yesterday?"
Hong Fei shook his head, amused. A female fan? Really? T'Challa's wry smile deepened.
"She asked me to get your autograph."
That drew a genuine laugh from Hong Fei. When he finally caught his breath, he leaned back, grinning.
"Shouldn't that make you dislike me even more?"
"Probably," T'Challa admitted. "But today, you let me go. And when I think about the Dragon King... you're not purely a bad person. At least, not to me."
Hong Fei raised an eyebrow.
"That makes three people who've said that now."
The master recruiter's three-piece set was clearly earning its reputation.
"Even if you're buttering me up," Hong Fei said, "it won't change my decision."
At that, T'Challa's smile dimmed slightly.
"How much Vibranium do you need?"
Hong Fei tilted his head.
"Why? Planning to give me some?"
"For the Dragon King's sake," T'Challa said carefully, "I might be able to persuade my father."
"At least three tons," Hong Fei replied without hesitation. "Maybe more."
T'Challa let out a long sigh, shaking his head.
"That's too much."
"True," Hong Fei conceded. "Compared to the Vibranium veins, it's a drop in the bucket. But compared to what Wakanda's ever released? That's an enormous amount."
T'Challa's expression shifted, his gaze turning sharp and assessing.
"I didn't expect you to say that."
"What's so strange about it?"
Hong Fei shrugged.
"It's the truth. But like I said, I must have it. No matter the method."
The conversation ended there.
T'Challa began pacing the castle grounds, Jessica Jones keeping a watchful eye on him. Meanwhile, Hong Fei handed the tablet back to Big Head.
"Is Ivan still in the lab?"
"Yes," Big Head confirmed.
"He's moved his living quarters inside. Hasn't come out in days."
"Perseverance," Hong Fei mused.
"That's more like someone who can achieve great things. I've looked at the designs. They're solid. But will they actually work when built?"
"They will!" Big Head insisted.
"Ivan and I have studied this thoroughly. Current armor—ours, Iron Man's—focuses on miniaturization. But being large has its advantages. When it's piloted rather than worn, the mech's form allows for more design options."
"Good," Hong Fei said. Then he paused.
"But I think your design has one glaring flaw."
Big Head leaned in eagerly.
"Tell us, boss."
Hong Fei patted his shoulder.
"In the world of mechs, aesthetics equate to combat power."
That afternoon, T'Challa sought out Hong Fei again, his expression troubled.
Hong Fei spoke first.
"If you're here to persuade me, save your breath. Go eat another bowl of rice instead."
"Many innocent people will get hurt," T'Challa said quietly.
"Hmm."
Hong Fei considered this.
"For your sake, I can be more... targeted."
T'Challa's face scrunched in dismay. More targeted? Did that mean he'd try to kill his father outright?
"Give me some time," he said quickly. "I'll go back and discuss it with them."
"I have plenty of time," Hong Fei said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "But saying that... even you don't believe it, do you?"
T'Challa sighed. "I..."
Hong Fei smiled. "Actually, I have another proposal. A win-win."
T'Challa looked up sharply.
"What?"
"How about I help you become king," Hong Fei said smoothly, "and then you give me the Vibranium? I can agree to some... not-too-excessive conditions from you. Some conditions, not just one."
T'Challa shook his head with a wry smile.
"Impossible. My father is still alive."
Hong Fei winked. T'Challa quickly waved his hands.
"No, no, no. I won't agree. And even if I became king, I couldn't make that decision."
"Sigh," Hong Fei said. "Then there's no other way."
By evening, T'Challa returned.
"I have an idea."
"Oh?"
"A challenge."
"Be more specific."
"Issue a challenge to Wakanda," T'Challa said, "with Vibranium as the wager."
"What if they refuse?"
"Then it depends on whether you have the ability to make them accept it," T'Challa said.
"But I must remind you: Wakanda has five tribes. One is reclusive, rarely seen. But for something as major as Vibranium, it would be decided by all five tribes and the king. You might be able to threaten my father using me, but the other tribes might not agree."
Hong Fei nodded slowly.
"Are you sure a challenge would work?"
"Of course. Once a challenge is set, Wakandans never break their word."
"What if I demand a lot?"
"That's possible. But first you'd need them to accept the challenge."
"Then it's worth trying."
A smile finally broke across T'Challa's face—until Hong Fei added, "Doesn't this count as betrayal?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Then why are you helping me strategize?"
"I'm considering what's best for more Wakandans. And I believe in you. I believe in the Dragon King who saved ten million lives."
"Mostly because you can't beat me, right?"
T'Challa stalked off in a huff. Jessica had briefed him on Hong Fei's preparations for Wakanda, cementing his certainty about Hong Fei's determination to acquire vibranium.
A nation's might might outweigh a team's strength, but battle outcomes—especially against superhumans like Hong Fei and his forces—defy simple calculations. This wasn't surrender. Just necessary compromise for his people's survival. Deep down, he knew refusal would mean countless deaths.
Jessica wasn't leaking secrets—this was all Hong Fei's plan. Next day, T'Challa saw his cousin, though Erik remained unconscious. The two men were opposites in every way.
Even paralyzed, Erik might cause trouble, so Hong Fei had Big Head keep him sedated.
"This is my cousin?"
"Correct. And he wants your entire family dead."
"What?"
"You heard me. The backstory's complicated—ask your father."
"Is he another bargaining chip?"
"Naturally."
"Ulysses too?"
"Obviously. Though Ulysses has proven useful. I'll find work for him."
"He's wanted in Wakanda. Can I—"
"Sure. Trade him for vibranium."
As they turned to leave, Hong Fei delivered a precise chop to T'Challa's neck. The prince crumpled instantly into Big Head's waiting arms, then got carried aboard the jet.
Outside, the team had regrouped—except Frank, still wreaking havoc in Tokyo, and Bronski, already deployed to Wakanda.
"Ivan's staying in the lab. This likely won't escalate to full-scale war. Might just be me fighting."
Jessica frowned.
"Why?"
"Because Wakanda has a wise and intelligent heir."