Begins several years before The Black Panther Movie and ends several years after. This is an alternate universe (with certain events from the comic and the cinematic universes which have been altered and intermingled together) containing multiple M...
Erik's phone went off as soon as he got off the plane in Copenhagen Denmark. The eight hour flight was smooth. He slept for most of it. He hadn't gotten much sleep since he had been back in the US. And last night had been no exception. After fucking her damn near into a coma, he left Ade's hotel room without waking her and caught the flight out of New York.
Bing! Bing!
He pulled down his hood and looked at his phone which he turned on to check his messages as soon as the plane landed.
7035557993
You left without saying good bye
He recognized the number was Linda though he had not programmed in her contact.
3155558825
Sorry Ma. But don't worry. I'll be in touch soon. I went to get what we need to get Klaue on board.
7035557993
Great. I'll be waiting.
3155558825
Im done with this number after today. So don't bother reaching out again. I'll contact you soon.
Erik sent the message and shut off his phone again.
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He waved for a taxi and instructed the driver to take him to a bank on the west side of the city.
'Make it Home' Tobi Nwgiwe
It had been awhile since Erik thought about this place or where it all began.... where he began. His home. The only real home he had ever had. Seventeen years ago in Oakland.
About a week after his father's death, their apartment in Oakland was burned to the ground. He was only ten at the time. A young black boy thrown away to the foster care system. No one would believe him, even if he cared to tell that the fire likely had something to do with the Wakandans trying to cover their tracks. His dad had an entire stash in the walls of that apartment. Most of N'Jobu's plans and vital intel were destroyed. All that was left was what Erik carried in his young mind and what N'Jobu managed to secure in a security box in Copenhagen.
The box sat undisturbed for seventeen years. It was one of the larger ones in the back which were only accessible to the owner. Erik had not dared to come near it until now.
Placing his hood back on his head, he nodded quietly to the bank teller in the front and made his way to the back. Once he reached the number of the box. He removed his hood again and pulled out the ring which hung around his neck on a chain under his shirt. He typed in the code on the key pad outside of the box.
