"My heart is racing, tasting revenge in the air
I let the shit slide for too many years, too many times
Now I'm strapped with a couple of macs, too many nines
If y'all niggas really wit me get busy load up the semis
Do more than just hold it explode the clip until you empty
There's nothing in our way, they bust, we bust, they rust, we rust
Led flyin, feel it? I feel it in my gut
That we take these bitches to war, lie 'em down
Cause we stronger now my nigga the time is now!"

Nas – "One Mic"

Erik became very careful with his comings and goings around M.I.T.

He switched up routes, times when he visited the library, and took stock of his surroundings with a keen eye. His vibram tattoo would alert him physically, but there was no telling who the Wakandans had at their beck and call outside of their country.

Staying close to his dorm, he only ventured as far as the off-campus movie theater. There was no Sunday brunch with Disa. His social life centered on classes, teaching in his T.A. capacity, and hanging around Chloe in her dorm.

It took a casual session inside the on-campus gym to bring fate to his feet once more.

Showering after banging out upper body reps on various weights, Erik found himself alone changing into fresh jeans and a sweatshirt in the gym changing room. He tossed an off-shoulder backpack on and slammed shut a locker door when the tingle on his gums flared up. A multi-spectral camouflage projection enveloped him, and Erik stayed perfectly still.

"Prince Erik."

He turned his body slightly and saw the woman who followed him the week before.

"Do you remember me, your Highness?"

His eyes took in her form. Thirty-ish. Athletic build. Inquisitive dark eyes. Dark form-fitting clothes to blend in anywhere. A halo of shiny curls crowned her head. A nose septum ring made her look powerful.

"I'm supposed to know who you are?" he said with a cautious tone.

"We met. A long time ago. On a battle cruiser."

Erik's shoulders tightened. He rode on a Wakandan battle cruiser as a child escaping Brazil with his parents.

"You like red tea. Sweet breads with honey. Your father was the bravest man I ever met and your mother…I admired her. Admire her memory still."

She was a soldier. A young soldier back then. Assigned to look after Erik while they hid over the Atlantic Ocean.

"I don't remember your name."

"Sizani. I was an airmen back then."

"Sizani…" he muttered as the memory of her shimmered in his mind from the past.

"Come with me. Please. We are protected under the shield. No one can see or hear us."

He sensed no ill intent from her, but he kept his hands on alert in case he needed to fight her. They moved through the gym and outside onto the campus passing people who were clueless to their presence. Sizani led him to a quiet spot near his science lab building.

"I don't have very much time. We are on reconnaissance in this area and will move out soon."

"Is King T'Chaka spying on me?"

Her eyes widened.

"No."

"Then why all the cloak and dagger? What do you people want from me?"

"There are many of us out here who believe in what your father stood for. Still. Prince Erik, we have vowed to protect and watch over you. We owe that to Prince N'Jobu.."

Sizani fell down on one knee and bowed her head.

"The King has imprisoned hundreds of people back home who have questioned the disappearance of your father. Many War Dogs have been rooted out and punished. Those of us who uphold the legacy of your missing father—"

"My father was murdered by your King."

Sizani's head jerked up. Water welled up on her eyelids.

"Prince N'Jobu…he is dead?"

"By King T'Chaka's hand."

Her face broke and her hands fell palms first onto the ground. Body wracked with sobs, Sizani wept until Erik reached down to help her back onto her feet.
"I am so sorry, your Highness. There were rumors and many suspected…we just…we thought he was in hiding. That's why we've been tracking you. Hoping to find him…"

She wiped her eyes.

"I can't believe the King would slaughter his own brother. Transgressions are always brought before the King's council."

Her eyes became forceful as she straightened her back.

"You are the true heir to the throne of Wakanda. I am here to tell you that you have a secret army waiting to do your bidding when you are ready."

She reached into a pocket of her thin jacket and handed him a kimoyo bead.

"Keep this with you. When the time comes, you can alert us to where you are. The King is cracking down on security with the Atlanteans acting up. We will find it difficult to keep in contact with you for the duration of this crisis. We will only move when you say so."

"That will be awhile."

"I understand."

He took the bead and slipped it into his pack.

"You are not alone in this world, Prince Erik. Your existence has been kept a secret among us for your protection."

"That's good to know. Does the King know about me?"

"He has to. If he killed your father, then one among us betrayed Prince N'Jobu to do King T'Chaka's bidding. I do not understand why he would leave you here. You are an Udaku—"
"It don't matter. He'll answer for that soon enough. When I am ready, I will call on you, Sizani. Don't tell anyone about my father. I want that kept between us."

"But, our people should know—"

Erik closed the gap between them.

"I said tell no one."

"As you wish."

Sizani glanced at her beads.

"I look forward to serving you once more in the future. Goodbye, your Highness."

"Wait—"

Sizani threw her arms around him and kissed his forehead before she disappeared. Erik felt her arms on his shoulders and then he was alone staring at a plain brick wall. He had so many questions to ask.

There was hope.

Erik threw his shoulders back as relief flooded his body. There were warriors watching over him. Not T'Chaka. That arrogant man was probably so cavalier in thinking he killed the messenger of his doom. He hadn't. The message lingered. His father's legacy was held close and over a decade by thousands. Erik held onto that. He had allies in enemy territory.

###

Disa carried a crate of vinyl into the back of the club following the club promoter who led her up some steps to a green room filled with other DJs mingling and waiting for a quick pre-show chat. A black-and-white monitor on a wall showed hip hop fans dancing and reciting bars for the opening DJ who spun classic joints. Five men and two women, including Disa, listened to the run-down of the order and their adjusted time limits. They were each given thirty minutes to show their stuff. The other female DJ glanced down at Disa's crate. Before the woman could get a better view, Disa blocked the snooping by placing her jacket on top of the vinyl.

The other DJs were folks she was familiar with in-person and online. All talented. All competitive. She didn't like that she was third in the line-up. The heavy hitters tended to perform toward the end, and she likened herself to a headliner and not a warm-up. It worried her because she knew DJ Geechee Dan was a late-night head, and he might miss her set because she would come on so early. Fretting about it almost threw her off her game, so she concentrated on the track order she had in her mind. She wasn't there to impress the crowd. She was there for the pioneers of the art form.

When the short chat was done, Disa followed another DJ to the stage. Her laptop was on her back with all the equipment she needed to patch into the board. There were two turntable set-ups on opposite sides of the stage, and she slid her crate under her designated one and stood near the table to watch the audience. Her girlfriends were already out on the floor, and she was so happy that her homegirl Pamela was there as her ringer. One of the best dancers on the east coast, Pamela knew how to get a crowd hyped, and Disa relied on her to be the litmus test of how she was rocking the crowd. If Pamela wasn't feeling it, no one else did either.

The show started, and the first two DJs did well. The audience was receptive, and she was happy to see that the venue was packed. As the second DJ neared the end of his time, Disa patched into the turntables and get her vinyl in order. She scanned the second level of the venue where the VIP guests sat and she hoped Geechee Dan was there to see her. She texted Yamilet asking about the crowd from her vantage point.

They don't seem all that hype tbh, was the text she got back.

It figured. Connoisseurs were always a hard audience to impress. The first two DJs relied on popular hype beats to move the crowd and all it got were appreciative head nods and folded arm stares. Placing two albums on the turntables and cueing up her computer, Disa planned on changing that. If they were making her go third, then she was going to make the last four DJs regret they had to come after her. She lowered the thin black hoodie from her hair and felt the cool fan air slide across the shaved sides of her scalp. The long, straightened strands of hair that remained of her mohawk hung to the side of her head. She removed her large hoop earrings and stuck them in her pocket. Wrapping a bit of tape on her fingertips, she lifted the headphones from the board and placed them on her head. They shouted her name on a mic and a spotlight hit her face.

"Shout out to DJ Geechee Dan and the old heads. Barak allah fik," she said on the mic in front of her.

Disa dropped the needle on the first record and her fingers slid up the fader.

###

Erik stood next to his homeboy Shawn from his juvie days and two childhood chums from D.C. They drove up to spend time with him since they would miss his birthday dinner in two days. His two dorm mates stood with them too as they watched the lights go up on Disa. He was surprised to see her hair shaved. She had dressed down, but her beauty was evident from the floor.

"What is this shit?" Shawn asked.

Shawn squinted his eyes and his face twisted up. The cacophonous sound that bled through the speakers rumbled with deep bass. The crowd didn't know how to react. There was no rhythmic beat to latch onto easily for the others, but Erik's keen ears picked up a pattern of intricate sonic bursts. The surround sound speakers held the crowd hostage to Disa's soundscape. Even the event host stared at her like he was confused.

"Dude, the floor is rumbling with bass," Jace said with a huge grin on his face.

Yamilet's voice was pumped out of the rising tide of sound with a repeated four-word question through the speakers, "What that mouf do?"

The beat dropped and Disa mixed in sick sounds that made Erik and his friends shout and jump up and down with the crowd. There was clearly a method to her mad opening, and any hesitation people had to what they were listening to switched up fast. Disa yoked up the audience and wasn't about to let them go.

"She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order. It's good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind..."

Erik stopped moving when he heard his own voice coming through the speakers.

"Nigga, is that you?" Shawn shouted over the music.

"Yeah," he said.

Erik's voice blended in then soared above the music before Disa eased the hyped crowd into her remix of Zana High Life. Everyone went ballistic. Bodies shook, bent, arched backs, and popped fingers to the electrifying sounds. Erik pushed forward to the center with Shawn and they danced their asses off. He spotted a woman with bold curls, and even bolder hips shaking her thing and he grabbed her hand. She smiled at him and he led her in a salsa-esque dance. People moved back from them, giving up space. The woman hung with him tight as the Wakandan sound soared above them and through them. Erik swiveled his hips the way his father used to when he danced with his mother. He told Erik that it was the dance done to that song in his country, and when he moved that way for his partner, the woman took off with it and hyped Erik up more. Disa blended in another record and Erik broke loose doing a back flip when he heard the distinct sound of a berimbau. B-Boys surrounding him thought he was break dancing as his capoeira and ulwa flowed out from him.

"Do that shit, E!" Shawn shouted.

Arms and legs jostled around him as a few dance crews broke out. All around him, people danced in ways that the music spoke to them. He had to stand back and observe the madness Disa created on the floor. Erik had never experienced anything like it. She was a puppet master. Her fingers tapped buttons, chopped up and mixed beats live with flawless transitions that flung them all across the diaspora.

"Erik!"

He turned his head and saw Chloe pushing her way toward him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She held out a joint to him and he toked a bit until the music wrapped around his throat and pulled him back onto the dance floor. Shawn, Jace and the others caught up to him and let loose until he shoved his way closer to the stage.

Disa's eyes fell on him and she gave him the biggest smile before whipping his body into another orgasmic frenzy of dance. He was pulled back into the b-boy circle and wished the night would go on and on and on. Erik could live forever in her music.

"Give me some more of that!"

A soft hand reached for his arm and pulled him away from showing off with the b-boys and b-girls. The woman he danced with before wrapped her arms around his neck and Erik obliged her for the rest of Disa's set.