Chapter 8: History Lesson

Steve grabs an apple, banana, and bottled water from the breakfast buffet. He applies sunscreen SPF 30 over his exposed skin and grabs his passport. Refueling before leaving, it is a one-hour drive to the border, with nothing but flatlands. He continues to drive on for another half hour until some straw huts dot the landscape. Hills gently rise as men with blue and silver patterned robes walk along the road. Steve has seen men like this before. He fought alongside their children, but that was a long time ago.

A group of them make a human chain up ahead of Steve, blocking the road. Steve slows the car, hearing his tires slowing on the dirt road as the car comes to a stop. A deiderik cuckoo calls out in the distance, as the flatlands turn into hills. A man from the line, with a wide forehead, breaks formation and approaches the vehicle, "Follow us. Yes."

Steve's car is abandoned in the middle of the road as he is escorted to a large mud hut, three times the size of the ones he passed on the road. Steve recognizes the border tribe leader M'Kathu, sitting on his throne in the center of the hut. It is dark inside except for diagonal light slits that cast down onto the King's face. Dust dances in the light. The King half the age of Steve appears in his early thirties. He wears a wool snow cap in blue and black with silver leaf lettering, only his face exposed. He has decorative scaring across his face. The queen sits beside him on a throne of her own as a dozen courtiers stand on either side of them. Both thrones are made out of teak wood and stained. He is peeling a piece of jackfruit with a knife and eating bits at a time. Every member of the tribe seems to be pushing their way into the hut, bottlenecking the entrance, as they crane their neck for a view.

A silent tension envelopes Steve, forcing him to talk first, "Your Majesty, I am here to see His Royal Highness M'Baka."

The border tribesmen laugh and mumble in Wakandan amongst each other.

M'Kathu looks up, raising his splayed hand upwards, silencing the hut.

He refocuses his attention not on Steve but on the current piece of jackfruit in his hand.

"I 'ave yet to determine American if you are foolish or brave to come 'ere on your own," M'Kathu replies in clipped English.

Steve feels the threat in the room escalate. His shoulders naturally stiffen.

"We know who you're Mister Cap-i-tain Rogers. 'nd we know why you 're 'ere. What we do not know, and maybe you can 'nlighten all of us is why you would bring your dying wife all this way, but keep her locked up in a 'otel room? Do you not enjoy 'er company?"

The words strike a chord within Steve.

"Your Majesty it is not like that, and if it is all the same I would…"

"Then what is it 'like?'"

"I…" Steve laughs to himself, being at a loss for words he rubs his eyes to collect his thoughts. He does not want to say anything untoward.

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, that is a personal matter," finding the will to recenter himself and not let the drastic timezone change and exhaustion allow the King to get the better of him. "I would like to speak to M'Baka either you will assist me or you won't."

M'Kathu's courtiers bite their lips as pockets of air fill their cheeks in an attempt to withhold their laughter.

"I don't think I will Mister Cap-i-tain. Why should I assist on such a quest where da leader does not even know what dey are asking fo'."

"Of course I do."

There is a long silence where the only sound is that of the audience.

"I do not know if you Americans are all this ignorant about your 'istory, but you caught me in a generous mood and I will share with you a 'istory lesson your ancestors failed to provide."

The room falls silent.

"You know H. S.T.A.R.K., no?"

Steve nods, realizing the King is referring to Howard Stark.

"Where do 'ou think he got the material for your famed shield?"

Steve is silent.

"Perhaps he went online to Amazon and clicked two kilograms of vibranium add to cart," playing to the crowd. The audience bursts in laughter.

"I assumed your ancestors sold it to him."

"Do you think we sell to colonizers? Better yet, do you think we sell to anyone beyond our borders?"

The feeling of ice shoots through Steve's body.

"Let me save you the brainpower. The answer Mister Cap-i-tain is 'no.' We sell to no one. Especially not foreign colonizing governments such as your own. So how did Mr. S.T.A.R.K. get said material if not on the black market as a representative of the stars and stripes? I will not bore you with the specifics of the said transaction, but you know what that amounts to don't you Captain? I do not need to spell that part out? Your censored history-fantasy books hide enough ghosts from your past that I am sure one more won't hurt." M'Kathu is talking more to his people than to Steve and is working them up, the aggression in the room is palpable. Young W'Kabi with his parents has Steve in his metaphorical crosshairs, it would only take a single glance from M'Bathu to send the teenager racing towards the colonizer mascot with his vibranium sword unsheathed.

"And now you insult us further by coming to our doorstep wanting more of what you stole, for free no less, as a gift to the colonizer, that we should show favor in your eyes, is that it, son of the thief?"

Steve struggles with these truths and can muster no counterargument.

"Leave us Mister Cap-i-tain and be grateful that the sins of the father do not fall onto the son."

Steve's trying to find the words that will spin the situation in his favor, but he is not Tony. I doubt even Tony would have enough charisma to tilt this situation in his favor.

"I see you want a gift Mister Captain, a gift for your troubles for coming 'all this way' to our provincial land. We give you the truth, but since you, colonizers never enjoy that and I don't understand why…" the crowd bursts into laughter, "…we shall give you something more. Your gift is we do not arrest you for stealing the vibranium that made your first weapon. You cannot put a red bow on your life, but I think you would agree it still holds some value."

As Steve searches his mind for the next move, he resigns himself to the fact that there is nothing left to do but bow and retreat.

As he walks out, a group of young tribesmen follows him. Their eyes cast in shadow from the sun, squint, but they are unable to take their eyes off of him.

Chapter 9: Reconstruction

Steve walks to his white Corsa, ignoring the group of young tribesmen gathering behind him. Nothing will come from confronting them he thinks. They get closer to him, he can feel their breath on his neck. Steve fears he will have to do something for self-defense when he sees a shadow creep up against the nearest green hillside. He looks up to see a pack of zebras galloping into view. Once the tribesmen see this, they quickly scatter. An eight-year-old girl, with a pink mohawk, appears behind the zebras riding a hoverboard, she is flanked by two Dora Milaje guards, in their regal brown and red attire. She floats down towards Steve playing with a few leaves of grass. The young girl wears a grey RVCA shirt with distressed black jeans.

Steve realizes that she is acting nonchalant, playing with grass, while her eyes reveal anger directed towards him. At that moment, he wishes for the return of the angry mobs, he stands a better chance with them than with two Dora guards. Immediately recognizing who this young girl is he prays he has enough diplomacy left inside him to negotiate his exit without having to resort to violence.

"Your Highness, thank you for saving me back there," he says in regards to dispersing the mob.

"You think that was saving Colonizer? Perhaps I just want you for myself," Shuri sounds like an educated woman in her twenties.

"I am at your disposal, your Highness."

Shuri scrutinizes him with her eyes.

"And if I command my Dora to cut you down where you stand would you still be at my 'disposal' Colonizer?"

"I would," Steve replies without hesitation.

Her eyes flare at his response. Steve's sincerity cannot be denied. She opens her mouth as if to challenge him, but nothing comes out. She gives a quick nod to her head, communicating to her Dora that she is done here. Steve bows, "you Highness," before making his way to his vehicle.

Inside his car, he looks at his hands trembling, the only visible sign of his distress. The Princess and the Border Tribe King wore him down.

His exhaustion, accumulating for days, reveals itself in his slouched posture. The burdens of this trip come down on him at this moment:

The 14-hour jet lag as he fights to keep his eyes open.

The financial cost of this trip on each of their retirements.

The drain on his time, this was supposed to be a quick plane ride into LAX and back.

Breaking the promise to himself to stay in retirement.

And most importantly, the life force was stripped from Peggy as a direct result of coming on this adventure.

A good soldier knows when to retreat, maybe it should have been days ago.

He starts the car and drives off empty-handed, clueless as to what his next move will be. Crawling into bed is his sole thought consuming him.