' Erik. ' the clear bead at the back of his ear comes to life.
' You missed me ? '
' Get out. '
' Ok. '
' Erik ! '
' I'm just getting my duffle bag. '
He dashes for the door, heads down the hallway to the lift. He presses the button.
' Use the stairs. '
The lights go off in the entire building.
Erik feels for his gun as he goes down the stairs. Erik makes it to the exit without any interference.
He gets into his black benz. He starts the engine.
' This nigga just loves tripping. ' Erik laughs.
He glides down the road slowly. So far so good. Nobody is tailing him.
- this is too easy.
Erik hears a police siren go off. He looks in the review mirror. Five police patrol cars.
' Slow down. '
Shit.
Erik pulls over.
' Put your hands on the wheel. '
A black cop comes over and shine a bright torch in Erik's face. He turns off his camera.
' I hate that it had to be me but I got a job I gotta do. '
' What they want from me ? '
' You a great man, doing great things but you know how they do people like you. '
He steps back and takes out his gun.
' Step out of the car ! ' Erik complies
' Hands behind your head ! '
' Now ! '
' Do it ! '
Erik complies. The cop flicks out his cuffs and slaps them on Erik's wrists. He walks Erik to the cop car and loads him into the back. He gets in the front and drives to the station.
' I read your file. What made you come back to this shit hole ? ' he looks at Erik in the review mirror waiting for a response. Erik just shrugs.
They arrive, Erik gets booked and is taken to the interrogation office. After a good ten minutes he hears a set of heavy boots walking towards the room. The door swings open and Erik can't believe his eyes. His old racist commanding officer during his Iraq tour, Peter McKinnon IV.
He sits across him, removes his sunglasses and leans closer.
' How do I look, boy ? '
' Fine. '
' It's shocking that you are still alive. People of your kind never make it very far in life. '
' It's called systematic racism . '
' Oh hush. Your just another undeserving lazy entitled brown boy. '
' What do you want from me ? '
Peter spends the next five minutes hacking up a lung. Erik is hopeful that he will drop dead in the next second.
' I need someone to lead me and my small team into Wakanda.
I still think I can squeeze in another,
' of the firsts ' title under my belt before I die. Gotta make the forefathers proud. '
When Peter starts to quote Mormon scriptures Erik is no longer following. His mind has wandered off.
' Boy, are you listening ? '
' No. '
' You always did have a way with words. '
' I need a cigarette. '
Erik is suprised that they let him off so easy. The officer that arrested Erik walks into the room. Very busy fastening a silencer to barrel of his gun. He pops a slug into Erik's left shoulder and leaves. He howls and hunches forward in pain his hand grips his shoulder. He feels like he's been kicked by a horse. That shit burns.
' Fuck ! '
Vibranium bullets hurt like a bitch. The cop comes back and tosses Erik a black jacket to hide the new blood stain. His right arm won't act right. He holds it and puts it through the jacket arm.
