Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

Great Thing

Notes: Erik tries to live life after being revived. Redemption fic. Violence mention. Sexual content.
♡

“Which one of these niggas did that to your face,” Erik’s demanding voice raged as he slammed his car door. T'Challa had just helped the petite and very pregnant woman hobble from the backseat of the vehicle before Erik pulled her by her elbow toward a group of men on the corner. They were immediately on guard, hands slipping threateningly into pockets. It was late at night and Erik had just come from working and arguing for hours at the Outreach Center with the visiting T'Challa when he happened to notice the woman out on the corner. Usually he ignored her knowing she was looking for clients, but tonight something was off. Her face was bruised and she was holding her belly. It looked like she was in pain and neither he nor T'Challa could ride pass. She couldn't have been older than twenty.

“Point em out,” Erik barked. He was in a black pinstripe tailored suit with italian leather shoes. T'Challa was in flashed out purple, but the way the girl was shaking, holding onto the hand that gripped her.. Erik’s.. as if it wasn’t firm enough, they knew they couldn’t abandon the situation. There were four men but she seemed particularly afraid of the nigga in the black t-shirt. His evil eyes bore into Erik, sizing him up as he spit his toothpick out rotating a finger in the air signaling for his group to standby. The woman didn’t have to point.

“Is this your woman you got out here working for you and you treating her like shit,” Erik seethed. It was a rhetorical question, but the guy responded with nonchalance.

“What woman? That ain’t my bitch, that’s the talent.”

“Nigga she PREGNANT pregnant and you bustin up her damn face. Do you see this shit?” He gestured to the woman’s face. There was a red and purple bruise under her eye and a small cut on her lip. She lowered her head hiding her face, and T'Challa touched her shoulder in a gentle gesture.
“You hella bogus for that shit,” Erik snarled.

“Aight, well what, you want her? You playing protector, you must want her,” Black Shirt mused pointing to the woman lazily.

“She doesn’t work for you anymore,” T'Challa cut in, eyeing the man carefully. “Do not look for her, you have no ties. She's out. Completely.”

“Nahnahnah, see, she owes me 800 and until I get it, she ain’t going nowhere.”

Erik pulled out his wallet and there were ten crisp one hundred dollar bills. He picked up eight and put it in the man’s hand as T'Challa looked on watching each person in the group, sizing them up and halting them from any wild attempts with eye contact alone. The man skimmed the bills quickly in his hand, pocketing them and T'Challa uttered to the girl to wait in the car.

“Hold up," the man called halting the woman in her steps. "You can’t just hand me 800 like that and expect me to let y'all go. That’s my property. I own her and that 800 was owed to me. What do I get in the place of her because that’s an investment. I feed and clothe that bitch to make a return and you taking my future profits.”

“You’ll get the satisfaction of helping a young pregnant black woman who holds the future generation.. live to be some child's mother,” T'Challa reasons, the woman hiding behind him.

"She strung out, who mother she finna be? She a ripnut good for suckin dick that's what she good at."

"Ayo watch ya fuckin mouth," Erik snaps and the three men in the background step forward.