"Thru the thunder and lightning (hold on my people)
Oh the weather gets rough now (hold on my people)
Ooh ya got to hang on now girl (hold on my people)
When it gets real rough, rocky and windy (hold on my people)
Hold on (hold on my people)
On and on and on now (hold on my people)
When they start throwin' fire (hold on my people)
Chant chant chant you down now (hold on my people)
Oh you got to hold on and on (hold on my people)
Ooh you got to hold on now (hold on my people)
Oh you got to climb, closer now (hold on my people)
Who wants to survive, now (hold on my people)
Awww you gotta hold on (hold on my people)
Love is on the way (hold on my people)
Love is on the way (hold on my people)
Love is on the way (hold on my people)"
Erykah Badu – "My People"
Disa convinced the helpful family who rescued her from the airport to take her to a family friend in Bonita. She paid them twenty dollars cash from her shoulder bag that she smartly kept strapped around her chest while on the plane.
Mr. and Mrs. Thomas fed Disa and cleaned her wounds. She iced her knee and called her mother to let her know where she was. Later in the evening, after arriving on the other side of town, she could reach Erik's cell. He'd charged it after it went dead. She tried not to cry while talking to him, but the experience of trying to escape death traumatized her. Had she waited a moment longer sitting on the plane, she could've been among the dead and severely injured. She switched from the landline to Mrs. Thomas' cell phone so she could see Erik's face. He was covered in dust and sweat, and there was a viciousness in his eyes mixed in with exhaustion.
"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?" he asked.
"No. The swelling around my knee went down and I can move with minimal pain. Nothing feels broken."
"I'll be there soon. I told my Captain I had to find my wife since you were at the airport. They're giving me a few hours, then I have to return. We don't know who did this. No one is claiming responsibility, at least not among the usual suspects, because we know they don't have the type of firepower used. They were sonic weapons, I'm sure of that."
"Please stay safe."
"See you in a bit, baby. I love you."
"I love you too—"
He was gone before she finished speaking.
Disa sat on pins and needles, waiting for him. The rumble of his car in the driveway had her dashing out in the dark. She threw herself around him and he lifted her up.
"I'm okay, really," he said. "How are you? Really?"
She could only press her forehead into his.
Stroking her hair, he held Disa's hand and took her into the house. Mr. Thomas showed them to a guest bedroom to give them privacy. Tears leaked from her eyes, and Erik shed a few before he turned to stone.
"You'll have to stay here. They're not letting people into Coronado or near the base. The island is evacuating everyone who's not in the military," he said.
She nodded and thought of what she'd need to buy.
"How long?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"It's war, isn't it?"
"Not if we can't find these people. Honestly, I don't think we will."
"What will you do next?"
"Straight to SQT. No graduation ceremony."
"You'll keep training there?"
"Too much rubble. We'll head to Miramar for a bit and then resume training among rebuilding."
"I never thought I'd see in my lifetime an actual attack on America. The twin towers were not even on this level."
"A new day. Now I gotta be part of the force that handles it."
"I didn't want this for you!"
Throwing her arms around him, Disa wept and reconfigured the vision she had for their life.
"Come here…"
He leaned back on the bed and pulled her on top of him. Playing in her hair, Erik soothed her with all the words she wanted to hear to instill confidence that they would be alright.
"I'm glad you're back. I missed you and I hate that our reunion is a mess," he whispered.
Erik stroked her back and became quiet. Disa became uncomfortable with his silence.
"Do you think you could go back to Amsterdam and stay?"
"Why?"
Disa sat up from him.
"Maybe take your mother with you? I don't know what's going on, and the catastrophic level of this attack makes me want you out of here. Chickens and everything else are coming home to roost and I want you away from it."
"I don't want to be away from you!"
He smiled.
"Tables have turned, huh, baby?"
He pulled her in for another hug and the firm strength of his body turned her into a soft marshmallow in his arms. His chest muscles were brick hard and his pecs were solid steel planes that gave her tingles against her pillowy breasts. His scent was full of masculine odors. Aftershave. Military grunt work sweat. His own body odor, which reminded her of the outdoors in summer, calmed her. Disa didn't want him to go and quickly undressed from her borrowed t-shirt and sweatpants. Unfastening Erik's fly, she pulled out his dick and crawled on top of him. She would lose him to this disaster. He wanted her back out of the country and she wanted to be near him. Rising up and down with the strength of her knees and thighs, Disa rode her man to hold a piece of him close for the time she had left with him.
Erik grunted under her, keeping his cries of release quiet in a stranger's house. The snug weight of his balls hitting against her ass made her happy and feel complete. He buried his face in her breasts when he came with hard spurts. She clung to his shoulders as he squeezed her waist. He fell onto his back and cradles her breasts, sucking on each one as his erection hardened into a firm rod again. His firm hands grabbed a hold of her ass and wouldn't let go as she gyrated her waist all around, giving him all the missed loving he wanted. He shouted out loud when he ejaculated and they both didn't care who heard them. It was life or death. Nothing was guaranteed any more.
###
SEAL Team Three.
That was Killmonger's new crew. Sixteen of the baddest men he had ever met.
He was one of ten newly commissioned SEAL members to join. His captain rejoiced at his arrival. Killmonger's SQT reputation preceded him and on the quiet tip, there was a minor war within the Navy to claim him. Trained in Arabic while he passed SQT, Killmonger was the golden boy who lived up to his name out on the field. His first mission out as a SEAL racked him up seven bodies. He took a knife with hot ash and Candomblé prayers from Marisol and copied the scarification technique they used before as young teens. His fellow SEAL team members got tattoos, but he made his skin rise in shiny lumps to tally his kills. It was a visual warning to enemies and his own fellow soldiers not to fuck with him.
Two years into the life and he had amassed two lines of keloid scars along his pecs.
Disa hated it.
It brought war to their home, and she worried he would infect his skin. He already had four small keloids on his collarbone that she thought were from a childhood injury, but they were placed there on purpose, just like the new ones. Marisol put the first two marks on each side of his chest to remind him of his parents being taken from him. Every scar thereafter would be revenge for them. The second two keloids were a secret between himself and Marisol of what they had done together as young teens. Disa's observant eyes always questioned what they meant, but he never told her. He only carved himself again. She was wise enough to keep her mouth shut. The past was the past.
Forced to live out of the U.S. for her safety, Erik moved Disa to London with Serah for a year before shipping her to Brazil to be with Marisol in a new house he rented for them away from the favelas. Their country slowly rebuilt their damaged lands and reputations, but they never caught the culprits. Grandpop refused to leave Oakland, and Uncle Bakari and Aunt Shavonne felt safe in D.C.
Disa had PTSD triggers whenever she flew, so they made sure she traveled business class or first class to depart from planes first. Flying by itself was not a problem. It was the waiting to get off the flight or the waiting to lift off that brought her anxiety. Sometimes the smell of gasoline or things burning that she couldn't see right away tensed up her emotions and body. It took a year of therapy to help her control her reactions to triggers while flying. She delved into intense prayer, gardening, and leaning on him to help her cope. He understood those feelings. He understood the triggers. Erik wished he could fight the Atlanteans or at least have them weakened so that Disa could get rid of the fear of imminent attacks out of nowhere again. She felt safest when he was around her. His size, strength, and confidence to whoop anyone made her relax fully anywhere. Flying with him was a breeze. Flying without him was trying for her sometimes. Thankfully, she was proactive in her own escape and that pushed her ability to cope and move past the event healthily.
SEAL money helped stretch his dollars during that time. Erik was running out of pure capital. Moving his funds around to keep it protected limited how fast he could use it and the cheapest thing he could do was secure affordable, safe housing for Disa. The irony of Sao Paulo being a haven again wasn't lost on him. Inflation drove up the cost of housing, food, and gas in the States. They coasted because Disa still had her house in Cambridge that she leased out for more money. Compared to other Americans, they were well off in the new economic changes.
The U.S. normally profited off of war, but because the perpetrators of the attacks two years previous hadn't been named or caught, the country spiraled into near economic collapse because of fear. As always, Black Americans suffered the most. Last hired. First fired. The capitalist system teetered on disaster in America. That is until the Middle East and Eastern Europe acted up again, and it was back to business as usual. Saudis and South Africans bought weapons and the U.S. was back in the killing business again, keeping Killmonger in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Stark Industries kept the pipeline of new weapons flowing and Killmonger battled his personal feelings about Tony profiting by any means necessary. On either side. Tony would always be about his paper. He had no scruples.
He relaxed in an Afghan café and sipped a thick tea and checked his email. A video clip of Disa popped up. She held silver and royal purple cards in her hand. It was a "Save The Date" wedding announcement. They chose May 19th as their wedding date in Sao Paulo. Her face glowed in the video. She had put on weight and her fuller face and body told the world she was happy and taken care of by him. There was concern over her getting thin after the airport attack. Her weight loss was severe until Erik found the best people to help her. He took pride in her recovery because she worked hard to get better.
Her start-up design firm had its first few clients, and she worked with a virtual team in London and the U.S. She made a net income of one hundred thousand dollars for herself her first two years out and she was garnering attention from the right circles. Disa was ready to get married and return to the U.S. Her patience with him and his career had him in knots. His SEAL contract was for another two years, and she was counting on him to get out.
"Killmonger, is anything interesting happening back home?"
Silas sat next to him
Erik planned to meet Disa in Brazil for carnival and then return to the States for their first time together. He'd have a month of downtime before preparing for another deployment. That meant they would station him in San Diego for a long time and they could see each other every day and on weekends until he shipped out again. Their life had fallen into a routine that they could manage and be happy together. Marisol was joining Disa on her return stateside. Erik convinced her to sign up for a summer student exchange at UCSD. Back in school and serious about her studies, Marisol was a comfort for Disa being back in the place that traumatized her. Campus housing set her up with a decent living situation, and her class schedule allowed her to check-in and spend time with Disa throughout the week.
He was also tired of jerking off to her homemade porn videos. She used dildos, inserted vibrators, and scandalous outdoor masturbation videos to keep him happy while away.
"Just counting down the days to get back to my lady."
He glanced around the café. They had downtime until their flight back to San Diego. Twenty-four hours of freedom. No mission. No patrols. Time off to breathe.
"I'm going to shop for some rugs. Wanna come?" Silas asked.
Erik nodded, bored with the café scene. He followed Silas into a bazaar and they checked out bargains. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a man following them. A young dude his age with slick moves that weren't slick enough to keep his Killmonger senses from tingling with awareness. Silas caught a hand signal from him and pretended to barter for a silk prayer rug on Erik's behalf. He slipped between a display of hanging rugs and reached for his weapon attached to his side. Reaching to touch the fabric of one rug display, he swung around and snatched up the man, slamming him against a stack of premium fabric.
"Limadha tatabaeni?" Erik asked.
"Is okay! I am following you because you need help!" he screeched.
"Help with what?"
Silas whipped around and kept his weapon trained on the man's forehead as Erik released him.
"Information. About the Ghost."
Erik nodded for Silas to walk away and stand guard at the entrance of the market stall.
"Talk," Erik ordered.
The man pulled out a scrap of paper written in Arabic. Erik took it and read the message. He burned it with a lighter after reading it.
"Who is my point man?"
"Tahir."
"Tahir what?"
"No last name. Just Tahir."
The message asked to meet far from the base. There was no way Erik could travel outside the allowed perimeters without arousing suspicion.
"Tell your man I can't come there tonight. I ship out tomorrow and I won't be back for six months. He's gotta come here to me."
The man gave sidelong glances at the entrance of the stall.
"Then you lose the Ghost."
Erik snatched up the man's tunic with one hand.
"I've paid good money already. I have no problem snapping your neck. See this?"
Erik lifted his dark shirt and showed the man fresh red keloid scars.
"I can add you to my growing collection."
The sneer on his face frightened the man, and he held his hands up.
"Too dangerous. Eyes everywhere. You must come to the coordinates."
Erik glanced at Silas. He had lied to the soldier and told him he was fishing for intel on the behest of a higher up in their unit. If he went with the informant and Silas followed, his gig would be blown. It was Erik's first real taste of tracking Klaue directly. Discretion was more important than anything. The only reason Silas was even there was because SEALs had to have buddies with them all over. Tahir would have to keep Erik's finder's fee without him getting the info he needed. Five thousand dollars down the drain.
"Forget it. Tell Tahir I'll be in touch another time," Erik grumbled.
He rushed past the informant and collected Silas to head back to the base.
"Killmonger."
A voice as smooth as porcelain snagged his attention.
Erik turned in the sound's direction and the quiet merchant they passed to get inside the stall pulled off his dark sunglasses.
"Tahir?" Erik said.
The man nodded and signaled for his lackey to beat it.
"Wait for me out front, Silas."
Silas nodded and strode to the entrance. Erik followed Tahir further back in the stall that led to another section of the market altogether. Nothing in his body alerted Erik to trouble, and he trusted his instincts.
Alone and covered from prying eyes, Erik regarded Tahir carefully. Ole boy was suave-looking. Pretty boy handsome in a way that Erik was not. Thick, dark, bushy eyebrows offset long black lashes surrounding seductive eyes that looked like they had natural eyeliner. The man looked like a white woman's version of a handsome romance book sheik in some old-school racist trope.
"You are the man who lines my pockets," Tahir said.
He pulled out a cigar and handed it to Erik. They smoked together and the heat of the desert air and the close quarters they stood in had him sweating more.
"The Ghost will be here in Afghanistan two days from now. He has some business with Tony Stark."
"Stark, huh?"
Tahir blew smoke at Erik.
"My sources tell me he's selling new missiles to your American Air Force and some of the same weapons to the Taliban. Russia too."
"Good ole Tony. Play both sides and make that coin."
"This is why he is good friends with the Ghost."
"Friends?"
"Working associates, if you prefer."
"How long is he here for?"
Tahir shrugged.
"Lots of deals are being made in the next few days. My people have had eyes on him, as you requested. South Africa is the home base for his primary operations, but these global attacks… money makes the big boys come out to play openly. I am talking billions."
Tahir took out a cell and showed Erik a picture on his phone. It was the most recent picture of Klaue in front of a warehouse, talking to an Iraqi warlord. He didn't know if Tahir knew that or not, so he kept his mouth shut on real names. Even his own. Klaue was just the Ghost. Erik was only Killmonger.
"I'll have to get back to you about funds."
"I know you are good for it. You pay on time and well."
Erik snapped the photo of Klaue into his own cell. He now had proof that the man was still in the game and didn't just vanish from the earth, hindering Erik's future plan to befriend him in a nefarious scheme to get next to his mercenary team.
"Could you find him again? I ship out tomorrow night."
"For another fee."
Erik rolled his eyes.
"I am a one-man operation with a small staff of secret eyes to pay," Tahir said.
"When I need you, I'll hit you up."
Tahir held out his hand.
"Good meeting you and doing business, Killmonger—"
Erik snatched Tahir's cell and ripped it apart.
"Can't be too careful," Erik said, winking at the man.
He bolted from the market stall and patted Silas on his back to vacate the bazaar with him.
###
Erik arrived at the base and thought about the timing of Tony being in Afghanistan at the same time he was. The temptation to hit him up was strong, but he knew Klaue would have eyes on Stark, and he didn't want to reveal himself to his future prey just yet.
Riding in a jeep caravan that took him to the military airport with his team members and all their gear, radio chatter blasted the relaxed atmosphere. Boarding the flight transport, the news spread quickly among his SEAL team.
Tony Stark had been kidnapped.
His cell phone lit up. Disa's avatar popped up on his screen.
"Some assailants snatched up Tony!" she said. "It's all over the news."
"Baby, I can't talk. I'm about to fly back to the States now."
She breathed a sigh of relief. He was out of harm's way, and that was all she cared about. Erik's SEAL team leader unbuckled himself from his seat with a communications radio to his ear. The man wiggled his finger in the air and Erik closed his eyes.
"Change of plans, baby. I won't be able to fly there to help pick out the wedding venue."
He already knew she was upset without her having to say it.
"Call you back soon."
"They're making you stay to find Stark?"
"Looks like it," he said.
All the men grabbed their gear and strode off the transport.
He hung up and cursed his luck.
###
Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes of the U.S. Air Force briefed Killmonger's team in a military tent five miles outside of Gulmira, Afghanistan. A joint force was assembled to help locate and rescue Tony Stark. A terrorist group known as The Ten Rings claimed responsibility for kidnapping Stark after he demonstrated the power of his Jericho Missiles. Missiles that Erik helped design the prototypes for when he was an intern at Stark Industries.
Rhodes acted agitated and stumbled over his words as he shared all that they knew about the ambush of Tony's convoy out in the bone-dry desert. It didn't surprise Killmonger at all that his former boss would fall into the hands of people that he probably did business with in the past. Dance with the Devil and get burned was the reality of selling weapons to dangerous people for a never-ending capitalist cash flow.
He felt nothing for the man and secretly hoped Tony was dead. He deserved to perish for all the war crimes he helped perpetrate over the years. Killmonger excused his hand in the matter because he worked for Tony to gain knowledge and skills to propel him to his throne. The man owed the world his death to make things right for his misdeeds.
He sat and focused on the intel given and his team was tasked with sweeping the area and capturing men connected to Gulmira that helped The Ten Rings crew snatch Stark. When no one was looking, Erik sent Tahir a couple thousand dollars to get him word on the street that would lead to the location of the billionaire.
Rhodes entertained questions from team members, his dark face strained with worry and stress coming down to him from up top. Killmonger asked nothing, preferring to let the man talk. Sitting like a stoic soldier with eyes barely blinking, Rhodes zoned in on his face. When he crossed his arms and sat back, the man gave up way more information about their use of Jericho missiles. It was a typical ploy used by Killmonger. Lay back in the cut and people will spill their guts if one just lets them talk and talk without interruption. They grew nervous around him, as if his silent glaring provoked them to prove how important they were to all the power players. Inevitably, they showed more of their hand than they intended. Rhodes was highly decorated and stood rigid in front of the men. Methodical in his discourse, he was open and ready to act. They did not want Stark's technology to be duplicated or used against them in the future.
Sweeping with his team across the cooling sand dunes at night relaxed Killmonger. Tracking enemies was his gift, but also tracking down the whereabouts of a man he knew personally who wagered death to millions across the globe was a double-edged sword. Klaue was out there too. Watching and waiting.
In the back of his mind, he knew Disa was feeling torn about their situation. The work of planning their wedding had fallen squarely on her shoulders. They were supposed to be a team creating a day to be remembered, but the pressures of an unstable, volatile world made them both anxious. Their wedding was slated for the following year, but their lives were constantly in influx.
His convoy set up a secure base of operations for overnight observations. Killmonger was part of the first night watch as they waited for informants to contact them with more concrete intel. He barely listened to the presentation about the Ten Rings. They were just another group Erik would wipe out in the future.
Using night-vision binoculars to scan the horizon, he peeped the approach of three men on pack camels pretending to be civs collecting dry brush for fire use.
"Look alive," he called out to his crew.
He grinned when the men rode in closer, and he recognized one of the secret informants.
Tahir.
Killmonger didn't have to raise his weapon. His men already had them on lock. Tahir was wise enough to pretend that they were strangers. Silas wasn't on patrol and hadn't seen Tahir's face completely. There was no fear of recognition or questions.
All three men were frisked for weapons and tracking devices. Killmonger led them toward his superiors, who swept the men inside an Airforce tent. Staring up into the moonless sky, fighter jets streaked past, along with a few drones ready to drop payloads of explosives. A few tanks made rounds past them, and he waited for orders to disperse with tank teams and choppers.
Tahir and his two buddies stayed in camp even after Killmonger left to take part in search and rescue operations with the intel they provided.
Glancing back at the handsome face with the clever eyes, he decided to keep Tahir close to the vest for his future exploits. He could always use a native speaker and chameleon to help him with his quest to snag Klaue in his web of trickery.
