Winter of the White Wolf
Chapter 52 - Powers of Connection
Shuri had hoped, perhaps naively, that coming to a decision would help to quell the doubt that continued to swirl about her astute mind.
It did not.
The tumultuous whirlpool of points and counterpoints remained intermingled in fierce conflict, drenched in profound guilt even now over if it was truly right to share James's data without his expressed consent. As she sent word to those she thought most capable of offering aid that might shed light on this unique case, she did her best to tell herself that the decision had not been made lightly, and that it was done with a united front between herself, Ayo, and Sam.
She told herself to lean into their certainty in this course of action, even as she questioned her own. Even still, even if logic told her it was the best option, it did not mean it felt like the best option. It felt as if she was betraying his trust. His privacy. Had he suffered so much only to have his personal struggles stripped open and laid bare for those that did not know him to pick apart?
Shuri wanted to believe that fresh, unbiased eyes might offer new insights, but she was not fool enough to believe there might be risks of James's private information getting out beyond the Design Center's walls. She could hope for the best, certainly, but she knew even scientists gossiped. And if word got out into the broader country at-large, or internationally… she worried about what the cascade of effects it might have on James's life. About his pardon. About what others might do if they knew more about the nuanced and horrific details of his case, or that he was not truly healed.
Could they still? She had to hope something could be done to make this right.
She would not give up on him.
Contrary to her brother's teasing, Shuri was not so prideful that she didn't deeply understand and appreciate the many benefits of delegation, and leaning into others whose skills and specialties might help their cause. But beyond simply reaching out to experts for aid, if the case so interested them, there were many questions she knew would follow. Questions that were not only profoundly uncomfortable, but ran the risk of further altering their perception of James, and those around him that had seen to him over the years. What if they asked if he had ever been violent? She knew she must answer truthfully, but also knew eyes would be upon her that judged that such time and resources were best not spent on a dangerous outsider, even now.
Especially not now. Not after what had happened under her own watch.
After the synthetic skin replication and printing assemblage completed another round of dermal reconstruction on Sam's face, Shuri'd helped him walk to the privacy of a nearby room where he insisted he was fully-capable of getting dressed on his own into something more presentable. His brief departure had left her lab feeling emptier than usual, and she filled the void and the discomfort she felt with a steady stream of music that had a way of reigniting the aching heartbeat of her technological hub that was her second home.
If Ayo were there, Shuri was certain she would have proclaimed this was her charge's true home.
It didn't take long until a curated selection of renowned, and trusted scientists began to gather around her, intermingling in polite discussion until Shuri was ready to to begin. While many were peers that worked under the same roof, it was uncommon, if not rare to see so many faces from so many varied specialties gathered in one place, but it was at once heartening to drink in the breadth of their collective experience. Whether explicitly stated or not, she was well aware that her choice to depart from the Design Center to accompany Sam to visit Barnes, Ayo, and the others beyond Warrior Falls would mean the skilled individuals put to task here would be working in her stead while she was away. Not only that, but they would be prioritizing the unspoken urgency of this case over their own projects and experiments.
As Shuri went over the particulars of James's case she found herself evaluating the eyes of the bright scientists and engineers assembled around her, searching their faces for whether they were willing allies to their cause, or acting as able hands only out of a sense of duty or obligation to her or her brother. She wanted to hope they were not secretly harboring discontent for what they, or their close associates had witnessed or heard rumor of the day before, but Shuri would not have blamed them if they did. The best of scientists were taught to question, and she expected no less from those around her.
She recited this fact as she chose to reach out to two individuals from the Propulsion Laboratory, including one bio mechanical engineer that had been injured by Barnes. Under other circumstances, she might have avoided inquiring if he wished to lend aid to the same man that had wounded him barely a day before, but she respected him, and knew she had to put trust in these experts in their respective fields to choose for themselves if they wished to help with the particulars of this case. It would do her no good to spend time trying to second guess their intentions. She only had to hope that if they learned facts that made them question their resolve, that they would see fit to dismiss themselves.
Even still, Shuri wished for not the first time that she had a better starting point for what to be profoundly personal conversations concerning James's health and mind.
"How many years has it been since the nails were removed?" a neurologist a few steps to Shuri's right inquired after inspecting the oversized scans hovering within the center of the circle of scientists. Shuri had to give her credit: her tone of voice was remarkably steady considering the visible discomfort in the woman's expression. Shuri took no joy in seeing how she grasped her hands tightly together, as if seeking to ground herself in clinical details rather than the sheer horror of what she saw before her.
"They were removed in early 2017, but as the patient was among those lost to the Decimation, those absent years should not be included in calculations concerning total duration. I will also ensure all of this data is of course available for you to reference as you see fit. I would just ask that you be discreet with such personal medical details."
There was enough time for two full refrains of the music quietly playing in the background of Shuri's laboratory before anyone spoke again. The data analyst's voice was tentative and gravely quiet, "That is… that is beyond barbaric… How many years was he…? Was it like that?"
"We don't know the exact year the first nails were inserted into layers of his cortical neurons, but it may have been as early as 1944," Shuri struggled to keep her voice steady, "We know based on scar tissue that many were added and repositioned over the years, but we do not have a clear picture of what exact periods he was conscious and which periods he was placed in a cryogenic sleep." She forced herself to take a breath, "During a period spanning from 2014 to 2016, he escaped his captors and sought out pain medications to try and offer some amount of relief. That same year, he was delivered to Wakanda for assistance."
"...They kept his pain receptors intact?" the neurologist managed.
"They did," Shuri confirmed, finding a fresh well of hate brewing for those that had done this to James all over again.
Shuri was expecting more questions out of the gate, but it was obvious that even the baseline particulars surrounding James's case were… not what most were expecting. She knew it would take time for some to get beyond the shock and dive into the data and the implications therein. Her chosen approach was to be as straightforward and clinical as possible, but even she was finding it remarkably difficult to code switch and detach herself from the ailing friend represented by those scans. She fought through the guilt and added, "Any other questions? Any at all?"
The lead bio medical engineer from the Propulsion Laboratory kept his eyes on the data, and reached out, paging his experienced fingers through the collection of digital holographic scans. Shuri had a great deal of respect for him and was well aware that if he was willing to rise to the occasion, he was someone she hoped might step in to direct the team's collective efforts while she was away. That being as it was, she didn't want to force him into that presumed role if he wasn't up to it, especially since he'd clearly planned to take the day off today to recover.
But here he was. And by his determined expression, he was not simply here to learn more about the man that caused him and others injury.
When he finally spoke up, it was with the no-nonsense voice of someone who was ready to get to work, "Beyond familiarizing ourselves with the data, what is our order of priority? Diagnosing his current status, determining the cause of the initial onset of recent symptomatic behaviors, or determining a method to drive his brain back into its prior operating parameters?"
Shuri felt some part of her relax at the directness of his question, "They are all valuable pursuits that I would like investigated in tandem, as formulating working theories for all three categories is likely to be necessary for a viable long-term solution. But when priority is needed, lean into determining the underlying cause of the initial onset, as it's critical we understand the root cause so that we avoid a repeat of yesterday's events."
She gestured a finger and flipped through scans to pull up two particular scans. "The first scan here, this is the last scan I captured of 'James.' I believe between these two timestamps is when some manner of Event took place. I also believe that this resulting scan is the only scan yet captured from the man who now calls himself 'Barnes.' My working theory is that it does not constitute a separate personality much as a formed consciousness that lacks access to more recent memories, but I would greatly value any insight or theories of your own."
Some scientists looked between one another at Shuri's remark, but the bio mechanical engineer's attention shifted to Shuri, herself, as if he was acutely aware of the risks surrounding the murky waters they found themselves in. "You said he's currently somewhere remote?" she had to give him credit for his directness.
"Currently," Shuri confirmed, quickly adding "When appropriate, I would like to return him to the lab. Ideally with his consent."
There was a moment where Shuri wasn't sure if might say something more, but then it came. The lead engineer's voice was firm and no-nonsense, "With all respect: He's highly dangerous, and I don't want to see anyone else get hurt."
Shuri swallowed and tried to maintain her poise. Nothing he'd said had been out-of-line, and she didn't want to feel as if she had to pull rank when the comment and it's underlying concerns were justified, "Nor do I. We have more formidable mobile contingencies in place now," she reassured him. "We were taken by surprise, as the most problematic aspects of his condition were assumed to have been resolved in early 2018. I was clearly wrong."
He regarded her then, but she didn't see judgement or callousness in his eyes as he inquired, "Others did this to him, though? HYDRA? He didn't volunteer?"
Shuri kept her gaze steady as she clarified, "He was a victim in the truest sense of the word." She let silence hang in the air a moment as she added, "I make no attempt to justify the distressing actions you saw firsthand yesterday. Some of you met the patient previously, but many more of you have not. But know what you saw yesterday was an outlier I cannot yet explain, but that as far as we can deduce, the patient chose his actions out of a desire for self-preservation because he believed us to be HYDRA."
The room fell quiet again, punctuated only by the quiet thrum of her playlist, the ambiance of the laboratory, and continued readouts from James's Kimoyo Bead strand. The neurologist to Shuri's right was the first to speak as her attention returned to the early scans punctuated by nails, "Well, if someone did that to my brain, I would've wanted to get the Duat* out too," she reasoned aloud. "I've never seen something so extensive, but you're right: the last set of scans you captured from patient 'Barnes' shows remarkable similarity to portions of prior scans." Her slender fingers flicked between them as she duplicated the readouts and pulled them close to her, spinning them into three-dimensional space as she pieced apart various regions of interest.
The applied research scientist across from her inquired, "Do you still have the algorithms you developed to trace and simulate the impact of the code words? As well as documentation on what methods were successful as well as unsuccessful in negating them?" As he spoke, the machine learning engineer to his right pulled up a HUD display over her wrist, as if she was already chasing possible correlations in her mind's eye.
"I'll get you access to anything you need," Shuri assured the pair, "Discretion on this sensitive matter would be appreciated, but if you feel it would be beneficial to bring in further specialists to assist, I am not opposed. I would ask that while I am out in the field, that you prioritize text communications with me whenever possible, as I will be with our patient. But do not let that deter you from contacting me at any hour. This matter is a personal priority." She glanced back to the lead bio mechanical engineer who'd been injured in the Propulsion Laboratory, as if asking without words if she had his support.
He met her gaze evenly, opening up one hand in a casual manner before adding, "We have a backlog of data to get through and familiarize ourselves with, but I will ensure things are handled here while you are away." He shrugged easily, but there was something compassionate and almost playful in his voice as he added, "Go get us some fresh data, Princess Shuri."
Up until that moment, Shuri had no idea how much she'd needed the collective sense of community she saw assembled around her, ready to help. The eyes of her peers held optimism, even a bit of reassurance.
Hope.
Shuri didn't fight it. The resolute genius dipped her head as she spoke to all of them at once, offering simply, "Thank you," with every part of her being.
While a not insignificant part of Shuri felt guilty stepping towards the exit of her laboratory and leaving the newly assembled team of scientists and engineers to continue her work, she would have been lying to herself to not admit that a part of her was relieved to be able to make full use out of other skilled minds and entrust them with such profoundly important matters.
It did a lot to ease her mind into believing that she could have the freedom to focus her attention rather than to drown her mind in trying to solve everything at once.
Even still: it didn't do much for the guilt.
As Shuri approached the nearest pair of Dora Ayo'd left in charge of guarding her, she reminded herself for not the first time that guilt would not get them any closer to a solution for the complex problems plaguing them. That it was time for clarity of focus. That being as it was… such logical claims did little to dissuade the guilt still nestled deep within her gut.
Shuri offered a quick one-handed salute to the Dora Milaje, prompting them to return the gesture and follow her out the busy laboratory and beyond the wake of voices behind her that sought solutions to problems of her own making. But even after stepping into the hallway, she was freshly reminded how out-of-sorts things had become.
It was not as if she had not had others guard her, or been without guards entirely, but it still felt unnatural to know that Ayo, Nomble, and Yama were off elsewhere, tasked with guarding Barnes, when his own mental descent was undoubtedly her doing, though not her will. She made a face and took a few more considerate steps before acknowledging the pair of them respectfully, "I would make a private call," she said simply. In perfect unison, the two trained warriors saluted the princess and took up position on either side of the narrow hallway. Without delay, Shuri slipped into an unoccupied office to make a call she knew was hers alone to make.
She found herself pacing back and forth as she took a deep breath and cleared her mind, preparing the words she wished to say and the conversation she sought to have. When she felt she was ready, she lifted her wrist to call her brother. Shuri made sure to set the urgency of the request to medium so that he would be able to prioritize it accordingly, particularly if he was otherwise occupied.
He picked up so quickly that his face was already visible within the grains of colored vibranium before her communication bead had even blinked once to notify her that the call had successfully connected.
Her brother was no stranger to the mask of a politician's face, and she could see the tiredness there, the open expression he shared willingly with her because they tried to have no lies between them.
"It is good to see you, brother. Is this an acceptable time to talk?" Shuri began.
T'Challa offered one of those gentle smiles of his, the one that was familiar, but still bore the weight of the crown he wore, "It is. I am in my study with Okoye. I just finished taking a call from Ross."
"Everett?" Shuri inquired, confused at why Everett might've called her brother after so recently speaking with her.
"Not that Ross. Thaddeus Ross, the American Secretary of State," T'Challa clarified. "He made overtures to imply it was a social call, but it was clear he wished to know more about what tasks he believes I have assigned to our two guests."
Shuri groaned, placing one hand atop the nearest table and leaning into it considerately as she spoke, "Did he press you? I do not wish for us to prompt Ross to call into question Colonel Rhodes's own claims about the situation we find ourselves in."
The image of her brother smiled, "Colonel Rhodes and I spoke again this afternoon to ensure our explanations remain in alignment. Ross is curious to know more, but he is also much too smart to press me for details about our guests' current mission or whereabouts. He was quite interested in knowing if and when he might get in touch with them, because he feels their expertise may prove invaluable for his own international assignment. Ross played the details close to his chest, but it is clear matters are not as contained as he would like to admit. I have others keeping an eye on the situation in the meantime."
"I am surprised he has not tried to recruit you to his cause," Shuri smirked.
T'Challa snorted, "I think he hopes for individuals he can keep quiet and under his thumb. Ones whose loyalties he doesn't have to weigh against the needs of their own country."
Shuri inclined her head, "What did you tell him?"
"As much truth as I could. That their mission is ongoing and of the utmost discretion, and once communication is again safe and does not put their activities at-risk, that I will ensure they promptly get in touch with him. It was clear he wished to inquire further, but was not willing to risk upsetting Wakanda's continued goodwill." A smile hinted at the corner of T'Challa's face, "It appears he is as of yet unaware of the favor you requested of Everett."
"I was clear it was not a favor to Wakanda," Shuri reasoned aloud, "I was only asking a friend to retrieve something from the lost-and-found if he was not inconvenienced by the request."
"Who is a member of the CIA," her brother observed, but with only amusement in his voice.
"Who conveniently happens to be a member of the CIA," Shuri agreed with a casual shrug. "I cannot be responsible for the manner in which those I know find employment."
T'Challa glanced to his right, as if prompting the unseen figure beside him to speak rather than to do so on her behalf. Okoye's clear voice was strict and to the point, "Princess Shuri may find it reassuring to know that I have already arranged for two of our local War Dogs to assist with securing and transporting her precious cargo once it is located. I will ensure she knows when it is safely in the air."
"Thank you, General. You're the best!"
Shuri couldn't see Okoye's expression, but she would have bet her own shoes that she was rolling her eyes at the declaration.
"I know this request of yours was made prior to this… situation," Shuri could hear her brother struggle to put into words what had come over their friend, "this… reversion of White Wolf's mind. Do you think any of the contents in the journals he spoke of might offer clarity on what has happened?"
"I do not know," Shuri admitted, "At this point we are only guessing at how his mind operates, but Sam and the others suspect it is circling around a time after he escaped HYDRA. So it's possible there is something in the journals that could be beneficial, as some may have been penned soon after that time. But I would have to see them first, as James only spoke of them recently. And then? Only in passing. I do not know the details of their contents, nor how complete they are. Everett was forthright that he suspects others have browsed through the bag over the years, so it's unlikely that the contents are fully intact, but presently we would have no way of knowing to what degree."
T'Challa sighed, "Well, let us hope there is something of value, even if they are simply echoes from a lost time." His expression was layered in compassion as he added, "This idea of yours, to surprise our White Wolf with something he assumed was lost to the wind, it was a good gesture. A good sentiment. It is unfortunate that the recipient of such a gift is presently not in the same… headspace… as the one you sought to mend ties with."
Shuri was certain her expression must have betrayed some part of what she was feeling as the vibranium figure of her brother added, "It is not your fault, you know."
She looked away a moment and pursed her lips, "I know. At least some part of me knows. But another part remains acutely aware that it was my choice to continue to meddle in that ailing mind of his. Because I cannot leave well-enough alone."
"Because you care greatly," T'Challa observed. "And it is not wrong to care. There is strength in purpose, and you reached out to him even when you were not on the best of terms, because in your heart you knew it was the right thing to do. You could not have known what would happen. And it was his choice to continue treatment knowing the risks it carried."
Shuri sighed as she admitted, "It is difficult to know how to feel. The only thing I am certain of is that the anger I held onto for his choices regarding Zemo no longer sting as they once did. I am still disappointed in his actions, certainly, but I do not feel as though it was done against us. I find myself wondering now if his missteps along the way were perhaps influenced by the ailment chewing at his memories. I cannot know. I may never know. But I chose to put that aside because I no longer have the will to scorn someone I care so much about, who has done right by us on many more occasions, and someone who even now, in this strange state, still shows a remarkable degree of empathy." She chewed on her lip, "What of you, brother?"
T'Challa considered her question seriously, speaking not with his politician's voice, but from the heart, "I still believe he deserves peace after being a victim for so long. Even this Barnes. Okoye has kept me updated on the events on the mountain beyond Warrior Falls, and everything I have heard only increases my desire to ensure this man receives whatever treatment we can offer him. You continue to have my full support."
"That was actually why I was calling you. I wanted to let you know I'd spoken with Ayo and Sam, and we'd agreed it would be wise to make use of the skilled personnel of the Design Group as well as a number of scientists in Birnin Zana that might shed new light on our situation. I have already assembled them and taken them to task, but at the present time, I think it prudent to use only resources from within our borders due to the… sensitivity… of our research and the topics at-hand."
T'Challa smiled, visibly relieved, "I think that is a good decision. It is the mark of a wise leader to know when to shoulder tasks alone, and when it is time to share the weight of the mantle so that others can leverage their unique perspectives and strengths. I am proud to see you find yourself willing to delegate, and seek out the rich possibilities of more forthright collaboration."
"I will let you know how I am feeling once we have learned more," Shuri admitted, "but I am trying my best."
"To live up to the often unrealistic expectations you have for yourself?"
"Do you listen to yourself?" Shuri teased, but her smile was genuine. "It is like the night sky gazing down and having the gall to call a panther 'black.'" She shook her head, her voice turning thoughtful and introspective, "Sometimes it is easy to forget the world went on without us while we slept in the realm of our ancestors. My biggest concerns were at-once how to manage my responsibilities within the Wakandan International Outreach Centre in Oakland, and what sciences and information we should seek to exchange to better the world outside our borders. But now? Since the Mad Titan showed himself and we saw the terrible destruction those like him were capable of… I admit, I find it difficult to step away from the Design Center. Not because I doubt other capable hands exist within its walls. Certainly not! Many here carried on for five years without us, and the advancements did not stop simply because I was not there to oversee them."
She cast her eyes out into the adjoining hallway, on the people busy working while she took time to converse with her brother, "But I find it difficult, I suppose, to ask for help on more personal matters when it might take away time and resources from greater threats beyond the horizon."
"Ah, there it is," her brother gently chided, though his words were full of only love and understanding, "It is wise to look forward. To plan and prepare. But in the end, it is the people that matter, and it is key to not lose sight of that. For without the company of those that surround us, there is no future." He smiled considerately, feeling it necessary to add, "And it is okay to rest."
"Now you sound like Baba," Shuri teased, though a deeper part of her reflected on her brother's wisdom. "And I'm certain Okoye would corroborate the claim that you are getting sufficient rest, brother?"
"Well enough."
"Okoye, is he lying?"
From offscreen, General Okoye's voice chimed in, ever respectful, "Have either of you ever considered an ongoing exchange of the readings on your vitals so you might see who is most deserving of reprieve on a daily basis?"
"My sister would clearly lose such a challenge," T'Challa confidently observed.
"I would not be so certain, my King."
T'Challa smiled, but Shuri's expression shifted as she watched a scientist in the adjoining hallway pad diligently towards her lab. At the sight, the gravity of the greater situation they found themselves in came crashing back around her, "I've been focused on the fallout of yesterday's events to the detriment of keeping up with the local news…" she admitted.
T'Challa's face contorted uncomfortably, "It is… complicated. About the only thing working in our favor is that by the time the stolen vessel reached Birnin Zana, it was on auto-pilot, so the public cameras that captured footage of it were unable to get clear images of the 'pilot.'" He snorted lightly, "Someone in the outskirts managed to get a very respectable video of the time before, when I was manually dislodged from the rear of the ship and fell into the water. They have made it into a clip of sorts, with inserted audio of an irritated cat."
"It is remarkably popular," Okoye supplied of her own accord.
Shuri snorted before returning her attention to the greater conversation, "But they do not yet know who the pilot was?"
"Not yet," T'Challa remarked, "But I'm unsure for how much longer that information may remain undisclosed. I am treating the situation with as much care as I can, but it would be disingenuous of us to assume that we should feel the need to conceal his identity long-term, when we both know that if the situation were different, the perpetrator's information would be released to the public."
Shuri nodded, "I am surprised word has not gotten out from what alone transpired at the Design Center, where his identity was… readily apparent."
Her brother inclined his head, "M'yra's mother and father did discuss the matter with with me, and I told them it was not for me to decide who and when they share what they know with others. It is entirely possible news may break on the perpetrator's identity at any moment, and I will not seek to stifle it if it does, but for now, details have not gotten out about what happened at the Design Center. Only that an experimental ship was stolen and flown into Birnin Zana without authorization, and the culprit was caught and detained."
Shuri nodded at that, "When I last spoke to M'yra this morning, she wished for this to remain a private matter for the time being, but I do not know how much of that simply stems from the gravity of her injury or her sense of duty. After all that has happened, I do not want her to believe we favor secrecy over justice, but I confess I do not yet know what 'justice' might look like in this case."
"It is a work in progress," T'Challa admitted, "But I think even M'yra believes that there is little to be gained until some manner of resolution is reached regarding Barnes's present ailment." He paused before adding, "The photos you shared with me, including the latest one where he looked to be engaged in a four-player game of mancala with the others… it is odd to see his expressions so very unlike his own. These are strange times we find ourselves in, but it is good he appears open to new connections." T'Challa glanced down, as if pulling up another of the snapshots they'd exchanged, "And Sam appears much improved. You did a remarkable job on the reconstruction of his face."
"I did not have insignificant practice on your own," Shuri reminded him, earning her a laugh.
"I suppose," he acquiesced, though he was quick to change the subject, "Were those the drones you gifted him in the background?"
"Yes. I'm trying to teach him to let them out more often, so that they might take advantage of more autonomous learning opportunities. Did you know he named the second one JB?"
"JB?"
"It is short for 'James Barnes.'"
T'Challa groaned, and from somewhere just offscreen, Okoye chuffed, "It is tragic how terrible Americans are with names. I have heard of Starbucks drinks with more flair for personality."
Shuri laughed and allowed herself the moment to enjoy the feeling of it, "You are not wrong," she observed before turning her attention back to T'Challa, "It is good to speak with you, brother. Do let me know if there is anything I can do to help."
"Of course," he promised, "I have faith that your collective efforts will prove fruitful, but if you need anything, even if it is only to talk, do not hesitate to let me know. I will always make time for you."
Shuri inclined her head, "Thank you. I am sure we will speak soon."
Her brother smiled and ended the call. As the nanites forming his face retreated back into her communication bead, she found herself feeling far more grounded than she'd been prior to the call.
The situation around them might be far from resolved, but somewhere deep down, she no longer feared that it was her burden to bear alone.
And that was something.
Sam didn't want to admit he could probably have used some help getting suited up, but he figured a private struggle was worthwhile under the circumstances. It was also preferable to the dignity loss suffered to the alternative. While Shuri stepped away to do Shuri things, he allowed himself a moment to be alone with his own thoughts.
Well, mostly alone.
He was well-aware Redwing and JB were hovering along the frosted smart glass behind him, and if they were doing as he asked, then they were keeping their little built-in cameras facing away from his solemn person while he finagled clasps and zippers with his unnaturally tight fingers. Usually, he could top to bottom the whole getup in less than a minute, but his body… well… it wasn't that it was sore exactly, it was just like bits and pieces were a bit too taunt, like a thick rubber band that was fresh out of the plastic package.
Shuri'd gone over the minutiae with him enough times that he was confident nothing was wrong, but it didn't make any of this any less weird. With all respect to Wakandan innovation and her genius self, it still didn't make a lick of sense to him how he could go from that mess yesterday to… whatever this was. It was a very particular type of miraculous that had him feeling a lot of ways at once.
The only way he could really tell where Shuri'd been workin' on him was the spots of bare skin that were a perfect match to his own, but lacked the soft peach fuzz he'd come to expect. She said even that would be resolved after some time under her homebrewed follicle stimulator.
That being as it was, he didn't mark it as a sign of weakness that he opted to use a shaky hand to steady himself here or there, or to sit down to put on his socks one at a time. Before he'd gotten started with the dressing room routine, Shuri'd made sure to point out that Nailah had taken great pains to ensure that she ferried over his matching set of 'Captain America' socks with his other important personal belongings.
He suspected she was never going to live that one down.
But Sam did his best to take his time and do what was necessary so he didn't risk having to send out an S.O.S. from the floor because he'd gotten overzealous and fallen on his ass. The only outlier so far as he could see, was that he was finding himself remarkably inclined to make up for the lack of a quality conversation partner by… talking to the drones. Those drones. It was as if some ragged part of his post-concussed brain saw fit to try and make up for lost time, when, by Shuri's implication, the two hovering metal triangles were waiting for his cue to… do what exactly?
As Sam sat and adjusted the fitting of his first boot, he found himself glancing over one shoulder to regard the backs of the two matching drones that hovered a short distance away with their pointed "heads" obediently facing the privacy glass. Weird. He remembered a simpler time when he was growing up and Tamagochis and Furbys were the latest digital pet craze. Now? Well now he found he wanted to be able to pinpoint where these two stood on the sliding scale of smart ovens and, well, Ultron or Jarvis depending if there was a moral alignment consideration to the whole thing.
He really hoped there wasn't.
"I'm dressed now. So, uh, you both can turn around?" It came out as more of a question than he intended.
In response, the two spritely drones pivoted in unison, and JB was quick to chirp an affirmative and close the distance between them so he could inspect Sam's familiar red, white, and blue get-up close-up. It had been his idea to wear the suit when they went out to see Barnes for round two, but truth to be told, he was having more than a few second thoughts surrounding it. On one hand, he wasn't going to lie that the thought of having a bit of protection when facing Darth Vader wasn't an insignificant bit of comfort, but he liked to think that the hours he'd had to mull over the idea made the decision more than skin deep.
As far as he could tell, and as much as the other Wakandans had passed along to Shuri and him, Barnes still wasn't close to being convinced that things weren't as they seemed in that jumbled head of his. But it sounded like he was no longer strictly in denial, either. According to Shuri, even when he'd been dragged around the Design Center like a glorified velveteen rabbit, Barnes had actually taken the time to paw through their phones, wallets, and the contents therein, almost like he was trying to piece things together. And Sam supposed if he had any play at all, it was to be as forthright with Not-Bucky as he could be. That solemn responsibility included putting on the suit, and with it, the not-so-subtle hope that seeing him in the red, white, and blue might jog something in that cyborg brain of his. Or at the very least? Might support the solemn fact it wasn't 2014.
He frowned to himself as he looked across the room to the silent shield leaning against the seat, "Really not looking forward to that conversation," Sam admitted aloud.
At his comment, Redwing emitted two progressively lower beeps, and Sam raised an eyebrow in the little drone's direction. He wasn't sure why he was prompted to say anything other than his damn need to know these things, but something compelled him to ask, "Do you remember him at all? Steve, I mean?"
He caught his breath hitch as the little drone pivoted it's fuselage up and down, miming a nod of his vibranium-plated "head."
Sam wasn't sure where to go with the conversation from there, because the wheels in his head were still reeling about an awful lot, including now the fleeting possibility that the triangular figure hovering a short distance away, the one that looked nothing like the first or second iterations of Redwing, that it somehow… "remembered."
It probably wasn't the time. Scratch that – it definitely wasn't the time, but he couldn't help himself from stumbling over himself as he started to churn through at least a dozen questions all at once. What his first "memory" of Steve? What about the last one he'd captured when he was still around? Sam mind ran through request after potential request as he struggled to mentally scour through the years of their friendship and recollect what events Redwing had been present for. And beyond that? The possibilities of what he might see against his better judgement, about how maybe exploring this should wait, about how there was undoubtedly a better time and place.
But he also had to know.
"Do you…" he licked his lips and took a deep breath in and out before following a particular thread in his mind that was surrounded by safer, simpler times, "do you have anything from the night after Steve and Nat broke us out of the Raft? Any recordings, I mean? From when we were at the safe house and –"
But Sam didn't make it any further, because the drone hovering a few feet away from him, the one he'd been wrongly assuming for the last few months was just an advanced run-of-the-mill smart-drone, it opened up a compartment on the top of its body, and a fisheyed, rectangular projection popped up.
What he saw took his breath away.
The four figures were unmistakable, huddled around a chipped kitchen table that served as a makeshift card table, "Did someone check the deck has all the cards, or are we leaving that up to chance too?" he heard his own voice from the past remark as past-him eyed a set of worn playing cards he bridged across both hands.
"You volunteering to count 'em, Wilson?" Natasha's calm and collected voice remarked without even looking up from her hand. She leaned back in her chair, clearly unfazed.
"I most certainly was not," he heard himself defend as Wanda gently shooed the camera so that the unseen drone wasn't hovering over her shoulder.
"You'd do well to keep your pet on your side of the table," Wanda instructed. Sam doubted he'd caught it then, but now he could see how she self-consciously ran her fingers around her neck, tracing the shadowed marks where someone on the Raft had thought it necessary to toss a shackle on her to dampen her powers like some kind of animal.
"He's just curious," he heard his past-self defend, "I don't even have my goggles on. You think the first thing I'm gonna do when I'm dragged out of that damn place is to cheat at a game of poker when we're betting what? Household chores and whatever we could dig up in that junk drawer?"
The view on the recording shifted as the lens took turns focusing on the faces or hands of the figures around the other ends of the table: Wanda, Steve, and Nat. "Besides, can't you like…" Sam's figure lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in Wanda's direction, "you know, to count them?"
Steve audibly groaned, but in response Wanda offered that smile of hers, the genuine one, "That is not a specialty of mine, no."
Redwing's lens turned to Nat and that platinum-blond hair of hers. It was the same fashion statement she stuck with from the moment she and Steve showed up to break them out of the Raft until, well… until the last time he saw her during the Battle for Wakanda. He knew she had one hell of a poker face, but she made no attempts to hide her amusement.
Seeing the three of them alive and just… smiling, tossing light insults back and forth at one-another… it was a lot. He hadn't heard from Wanda in months, but Steve… Nat…
He wanted to ask Redwing to stop the playback, but he couldn't help himself from drinking just a few sips more from that particular well of memories.
Only how it was makin' him feel, it felt more like he was a parched man trying desperately to drink directly from the mouth of a city water hose.
The figure of Steve was next to speak, "It's your turn, Sam."
"Yeah yeah, just figuring out my next move here. Since it seems like we're gonna be spending a lot of time together, I might as well start to learn each of your tells."
Natasha smirked, "Good luck with that. Better men than you have tried."
"Ouch," Sam feigned hurt as turned his gaze to Wanda, across from him, and Steve, to his left.
"If it helps," Natasha leaned forward conspiratorially, "Rumor has it that Steve's physically incapable of lying. When Super Boy Scout over there even tries, his 'tell' is this little thing he does with his eyebrow, like this," she repeatedly tensed and relaxed the muscles along the side of her temple.
"Nat…" Steve objected, not able to obscure the Brooklyn drawl hiding along the edge of that one, single word.
"Just trying to even the playing field a bit," Nat smirked as Sam reached out and hedged his bet, adding a white cat magnet with a broken ear he'd found in the junk drawer to the mismatched pile they were calling a 'pot.' As he watched the playback, he didn't miss that the recording showed him wearing the same heirloom watch around his wrist as the one Shuri's seen fit to repair on his behalf. Absent-minded fingers were quick to seek out the precious timepiece, but when he didn't feel it where it should be, he looked down at a tactical bracer and an empty wrist full of red, white, and blue vibranium weave. The sight swiftly reminded him that he'd pocketed the watch along with his newly-issued Wakandan cell phone. Reflexively, he patted his hip, reassuring himself that everything was safely tucked-away.
That all of this was somehow indescribably real.
"Do you feel bad, leaving them behind?" The image of Wanda inquired, changing the subject as she glanced absentmindedly over her dog-eared cards and waited for Steve to finish his turn.
Steve looked up, "Barton and Lang?"
"Yes. I know it was their choice but… they have no guarantees that if they stay behind, that Ross or anyone else will sympathize with their plight."
Natasha's voice reasoned aloud, "I don't think they're planning that 'playing nice' will do anything other than maybe tip the scales in their favor. But if they came with us, they know they can't go back home and see their families. Just like we can't."
In response, Steve glanced to his right, as if freshly reminded that Sam had been considering the same option, himself. He didn't take it, of course. He'd up and decided the world needed another undercover Avenger more than Sarah needed a brother, or his nephews needed an uncle. He hadn't thought things would go the way they did, that they'd be on the run for the better part of two years, only to lose a fight where he and half the world would be snapped away for another five.
He knew he couldn't change the past, and that he'd done a lot of good during those two years, but if he knew he wouldn't see Sarah and the boys again for seven of their years… well, he might've chosen differently. Maybe he should've done what Barton and Lang did.
But then, even if that had worked out and he'd been able to eventually go home, he also would've missed out on this. On being a part of something meaningful. On the last two good years he'd have running around beside Steve and Nat before the chapters of their own lives came to an inevitable close.
It was hard to watch, knowing what the future held for everyone at that table.
Natasha's fingers played over her cards as she spoke up again, returning Sam's focus to the recording, rather than a hundred-and-one 'what if' scenarios he'd never know, "I'll see if Tony has any goodwill to spare. He's pissed and stubborn as all hell, but he knows they have families, so maybe he can pull some strings and talk to them about a plea bargain for house arrest or probation if they promise to lay low and keep their heads down." She rolled her shoulders in that easy way of hers as she added, "And I have some intel that Steve here has a hookup with bonafide royalty, so maybe he can put in a good word with T'Challa, since apparently Ross is using the whole 'assaulting the King of Wakanda' as a primary charge for keeping everyone holed up in the Raft in the first place."
Wanda was straightforward with her thoughts on the subject, "I would take many things over the Raft." She played her thumb along the side of her neck as she looked to her right to Steve, "And your friend, he is safe?"
Steve took a deep breath but nodded, "Yeah. HYDRA did quite a number on him, but he's in good hands now."
Wanda inclined her head as if she understood more than most what that meant. Which she did.
Sam was well aware the figures around the table were still talking, smiling, making gestures at one another as they settled into the new life none ever set out for, but one they embraced together all the same. The better part of his mind drowned out the details until they were only an ambient wash of melancholy memory.
His brown eyes returned to the shield sitting innocuously on the other end of the room. On the person that had handed it off to him. On heartbreak, grief, and absent friends. He wasn't naive enough to think that the people around him were immortal, he just… always thought they'd have one more day.
And he didn't want to lose Buck too.
An audible *beep* from JB called for his attention and pulled him from the downward spiral of his thoughts. Sam looked between the two drones hovering nearby, but before his mind could pull on the threads of any more memories, he heard a knock at his door. At the sound, Sam turned his attention to Redwing, trying in vain to pull the emotion out of his voice as he did, "You can stop the recording now. Thanks."
Redwing *beep-eeped!* once and did as he was instructed as Sam projected his voice a bit louder for whoever was at the door, "You can come in. I'm decent."
He was doing his best to put aside thoughts of sentient drones and absent friends as Shuri stepped inside, looking around the room once before gently closing the door behind her. Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever been truly "alone" with the Wakandan Princess, even in her lab, and some part of him knew she was likely breaking some manner of protocol to do so, but that this was a show of trust, and a request for privacy from even her guarding Dora Milaje outside.
Shuri looked as though she still had the weight of the world on her shoulders, but the voice that addressed him was that familiar one of hers, "I see you managed to get dressed on your own. Or did Redwing and JB assist?" Apparently humor was the current coping mechanism. He could jive with that about now.
"You know, now that you mention it, It probably would have been faster if they'd helped," he admitted.
She smiled, but her eyes evaluated him with a doctor's clinical gaze, and he realized this was the first time she was seeing the suit she'd built for him modeled in person. For as remarkably intense as she could be, there was something almost amusing at how she searched the seams and edges for flaws. "It appears to fit well. You would tell me if any alterations are needed, yes?"
"Of course but… if I gain or lose much of anything, do I like… go to a tailor, or…?"
"...You're kidding…" The princess of Wakanda dead-panned, raising an eyebrow as if she were somewhere between confused and bemused at his inquiry.
"I'm asking an honest question," Sam defended, "I'd like to say I'll always be this exact build and weight, but I'm only human. Even with the best of intentions, things… fluctuate. And you're all the way out here."
Shuri groaned, rolling her eyes, "The highly advanced suit I designed for you leverages some amount of adaptive vibranium naniteweave. It should self-adjust on its own, but if more major changes are needed, I can remote in to assist."
Now it might've been the situation Sam found himself in. It might've been that his Partner wasn't acting much like himself, or the fact he'd just borne witness to a recording with the voices and likenesses of two ghosts he hadn't seen in too long and one who was alive but MIA. It might've been the stress, the worry, up to and including whatever drugs he'd been on for those miracle surgeries Shuri'd helped him through.
It could'a been a lot of things, but for just a moment, something very particular must've shown on his face, because Shuri's expression immediately shifted from playful, prescriptive genius to concern as she visibly backtracked her words to try and deduce where they'd derailed Sam's thoughts. "Sam?" Her voice was gentle, with that quiet sibling edge that reminded him more than a little bit of Sarah when she was trying her best to get through to him.
"Nah, it's nothing we need to get into now," Sam deflected, realizing the moment after he'd breathed those words that it wasn't gonna be enough to satisfy the curiosity of the brilliant mind standing in front of him.
Shuri cocked her head, considered his reply before responding, "And what if I told you that I would do without secrets between us, for it would weigh on me?"
Sam looked up to her and caught her eye, "Man, every now and then I forget for a moment you have that sibling guilt down pat." He shook his head and snorted under his breath.
Shuri's smile returned, but gentle, "I've years of practice cracking far tougher exteriors. Come now. Tell me so it can be out in the open."
Sam adjusted his jaw as he looked between the two drones and back to Shuri, knowing that he should meet her gaze, rather than avoid it, even if the topic was due to be an uncomfortable one, "It's what you said. 'Remoting in.' I guess… I mean… You know I appreciate everything you've done for me. This isn't calling any of that into question. But when Buck first handed all this off to me, the suit, the wings, the jetpack full of drones, I told myself it was a gift. I never really questioned it. But when I saw what Ayo did to Buck's arm back in Latvia I…" his voice trailed off.
"You worried if your 'gift' might be so easily disabled or reclaimed as well."
Sam cringed, finding it remarkably difficult to meet her eyes, but he did, "Yeah. That."
The woman clad in black and brilliant orange adjusted her shoulders and visibly settled into a discussion it was clear she hadn't been planning to have at this particular juncture. As far as Sam could tell, she didn't look upset, but her features betrayed the complexity of the topic now laying out in the open between them, "I would be lying if I claimed such matters were not discussed," she began, "but it was not framed like the failsafe that was put in James's arm. For him, we only wished there to be a contingency if the Soldier were to reemerge, unlikely as it seemed. You must understand that we glimpsed his violence far more times than I would like to recall, and it was decided that if James knew, it risked the Soldier knowing as well."
A sigh of frustration escaped her lips, but she continued, "That matter being as was, we have had no reason to question your resolve. You fought honorably beside us, and though we did not know each other well before James made his request for a favor, I do not fear our gifts to you will be misused. It was not given as a leash or request of servitude to Wakanda. What it represents is not for anyone in Wakanda or even America to determine. How you choose to wield these gifts and what you do with it is up to you alone."
There was something in her resolve that shot right into the core of him. Sam knew he hadn't broached the subject in order to get a free pep-talk, but it was clear she believed every word she was saying with conviction.
Shuri gestured a slender hand as she continued, "We live in a new age of men, monsters, aliens, wizards, astounding artificial intelligence, and greater mysteries we have only begun to scrape the surface of. Is there a chance that things I build can be turned against us? Of course. And they already have. I fought back against one cruel man who claimed one of the suits I designed for my brother, and watched in horror as he laid waste to others and brought destruction down upon my beloved country. My ingenuity enabled him, even though it was not my will. I have seen weapons and technologies I helped develop turned against those I know and hold dear, and many of them did not walk away from such conflicts. It is a very particular type of guilt to know that what I make has both the profound possibility of saving, as well as taking lives. The duality of this reality I find myself in has kept me up more nights than I would like to admit, but it is important to me that you understand."
Sam swallowed, letting her candid words settle into the room around them, and he felt as if Shuri, the smiling, brilliant woman he knew was at once allowing herself to drop the armor she built around himself so that he might have clarity on the complex issues she struggled with, that he might have otherwise miss.
Which he clearly did.
The drones buzzed around her, and when she held out her finger, JB alighted on the top of it like some oversized bird straight out of a Disney Princess movie. As Shuri spoke, she regarded the drones, as if thinking through their own developments, and technology like it, "There are certain design precautions I take into account now: Like that a Dora's sonic spear cannot be discharged by an unauthorized user." Shuri's expression shifted and her eyebrows tightened as she added, "Sometimes such modifications result from continued experimentation and iteration. Other times, it is the result of misuse, or in the most painful of cases, accidents."
Her voice was heavy as she continued forward, "But at the core of all this, if we believe armor, weapons, and technologies serve a greater purpose in the able hands of those we trust, then we must place trust in them." She lifted her chin to him, meeting his eyes without reservation, "So was the suit I made for you done as a favor to our White Wolf? Yes, but it was also made to protect and outfit someone I value who I, and many I know and respect, believe better serves their purpose with wings at their back and technologies to aid them. Is there a chance that we might not always be aligned on our causes and priorities? Of course. But it is a chance worth taking when the potential boons to so many are so much greater."
Sam took a deep breath and nodded, doing his best to push down the emotion he felt forming at the corners of his eyes, because he would have bet those wings of his he knew where this was headed, and that Shuri wasn't choosing to ignore his original question.
"So if you are asking me if I have contingencies within that suit that would allow me to override it without your consent, I can tell you truthfully that no, it was not developed with such failsafes in mind. I choose to believe that you are a good man and such secret backdoor protocols are not necessary. So when I say "remote in," I want to be clear that it is with full knowledge and permission from both sides. Anything less would be a breach of trust between us, and I wish for the trust between us to grow, not be beset with concerns over what hold I might have over your equipment. So, to be clear: I am glad you were forthright with me. I would not want such worries lingering between us, and I hope you choose to believe the candor in my words."
Sam did intrinsically, with every part of him, "I do. I hated even wondering, but…"
Shuri shrugged, but it was back to her easy going manner, "I choose not to take it personally, though I will remind you that those tutorials you have not yet finished watching took time to develop as well."
"Ah, now there's that guilt I was waiting for," he smiled.
She swatted playfully at him, "I will be the first to admit that there has been more than one occasion when I wished I'd developed certain technologies to be more… lenient… with my permission strategies. It would have been remarkably convenient, for one, if I had simply been able to remotely wrest control of the craft Barnes was piloting yesterday. It would have saved us a great deal of frustration, but also," the corner of her mouth quirked in a smile, "it would not have gifted us this…"
At that, Shuri made a few quick gestures over her wrist to bring up a video clip showing a view of what must have been the river-laden outskirts of Birnin Zana. In the video, a small clutch of angular black aircraft gave chase to a ship that Sam instantly recognized as the one Barnes was piloting. At first, Sam wasn't sure what Shuri was getting at, then suddenly their ship shot straight up, and a black-suited figure that could be none other than T'Challa himself tumbled out the rear hatch of the ship. Audio of a yeowling cat had been added to the clip to accent the moments before the Wakandan King unceremoniously plunged into the water below.
Even though he'd lived it, Sam didn't see the moment coming, not nearly. He caught himself choking back a laugh at how innocent the whole thing appeared at this distance, especially since he could now enjoy the clip knowing things, well… they were still a work-in-progress, but they certainly weren't nearly as dire as they'd been in the moment. "Okay that… I wasn't expecting that." He turned his attention back to the woman holding the projection in the palm of her hand, adding, "Thanks though. For the laugh, and all of that you said. It means a lot."
Shuri smiled and inclined her head, "Now that there are no secrets hanging between us, I thought you should know that Secretary Ross apparently contacted my brother to try to fish out information regarding the story Colonel Rhodes is using as a cover. That you and James are on a confidential mission within Wakanda."
"You mean 'Barnes' and I," Sam half-joked, because what else do you do in these weird situations? "But I'm not surprised Ross would try to pull some strings and check his sources," Sam sighed, "How long do you think we have until he finds out any of the truth?"
"It's yet unclear, but my brother intends to do what he can to dissuade him until such time as you wish to speak with him."
Sam whistled lightly, "Yeah, I'd like to imagine a world where things resolve themselves quick and easy, and that by the next call I make with him, I can handwave over all this. But that's seeming less and less likely by the minute."
Shuri nodded her head in agreement, "Okoye also says that she will notify me when James's missing bag is enroute here. I am trying to temper my expectations on the state of the contents, if there are any contents remaining to speak of, but I still have hope that they may offer clues that help us formulate a way forward to resolution."
His eyes lifted back to first the drones, then the shield, then back to his hands. The fingers still trembled a little as he flexed them experimentally, "I still can't believe all of you were dealing with stuff like this for the better part of two years. I had no idea."
Shuri offered him that knowing smile of hers, the one that told him he was a part of this story now, like it or not. He ran one hand over the other in a feeble attempt to still his fingers. He was positive Shuri and both drones saw it for what it really was, "So since we already ate and now I'm wearing something more presentable than a stylish medical smock, I know the plan from here is for you and I to go visit that mountaintop, but I was wondering, would it be… appropriate… for us to ask if M'yra has any interest in visitors before we head out? If she's up to it, I mean. I'm not trying to overstep or get between doctor-patient confidentiality, but…"
He trailed off, but Shuri picked up on the thread immediately, "She asked about you not a few hours ago. She was concerned for your hands, and the state you found yourself in. While I reassured her that your injuries will mend in time, I think it would do you both good to formally 'meet' and speak with one another after such a harrowing ordeal. M'yra is…" Shuri searched for the proper words, "She is a leader with a fighting spirit that has seen much, including the wake left by the Decimation."
As she spoke, Shuri tapped a bead along her wrist and wove her fingers across a series of projected menus Sam could only assume were communication arrays. The sheer speed and precision of her movements were something to behold, and a fleeting reminder that her genius mind operated at a completely different register than his did, especially when she had some sleep and a bit of espresso in her.
"M'yra is awake and interested in meeting with you," Shuri confirmed after receiving a text reply. "Her parents remain… eager for answers. I will run interference with the two of them so that you and M'yra might have the opportunity to speak more candidly."
Sam smiled, "I'd appreciate that. I'm not feeling up for song-and-dance just yet if I can avoid it." His eyes went back to the drones, "I'm thinking it's probably for the best that two pack up for a bit, okay? We'll have recess again later." Without a beep of complaint or moment of delay, the two drones danced in midair for a moment before returning one-by-one to the flight pack on Sam's back.
He couldn't help but wonder who went in first and last, and if they ever switched things up.
Before he allowed himself to spend another moment deliberating if drones had a pecking-order, his gaze lingered back to the shield across the room. With purpose, picked it up off the chair and sling it over his back, listening for the satisfying *click* of the magnetic fastener securing it in place until he had need of it.
Sam hadn't even realized Shuri was watching him, but as he turned, he saw her leaning against the frosted smart glass with her arms crossed over one another. The Wakandan princess and resident genius had a remarkably satisfied grin cast across her face, "You know, it looks even better in person than it did on the models."
Sam caught himself, "Wait. There were models?"
Shuri's smile only widened. She left a mischievous wink in her wake as she led the way back into the halls of the Design Center without another word.
Author's Notes:
First off: Happy New Year!
I hope you and yours have been having a wonderful holiday season, and that 2022 finds you well.
As I mentioned in a prior update, I took some time in December to work on a separate short story called "Operation Tender Paws" that is now a complete, seven-part story! It was a surreal experience for me to effectively take a month "off" from "Winter of the White Wolf" (a Holiday Hiatus, if you will) so that I could focus on polishing, posting, and making art for this feline-infused story. I had a lot of fun working on it, and I hope you consider checking it out!
While this story is meant to be separate from "Winter of the White Wolf," there are some Easter Eggs tucked-away for long-time readers. It leans heavily into humor and hijinks, so if you enjoy Sassy Sam™, Snarky Bucky, questionably-sentient drones, and exceptionally curious felines, it might be up your alley of interests! A number of lovely humans contributed art to it, and I added an illustration for the final chapter that was one of my artistic highlights of last year. The full illustrations and further links and information can be found within the story itself.
[My Art]
"Operation Tender Paws" includes visual art contributions from cutecumber_flower, thefalconthatcriedwolf, Les, and myself, with added illustrations in the final chapter.
Simply search for: "KLeCrone Ao3 Operation Tender Paws"
In the wake of these accomplishments, I'm excited to return my focus back to "Winter of the White Wolf." We certainly still have quite the adventure ahead of us, and I'm so excited for what's ahead. I hope you are too!
If you'd believe it, this is actually one portion of what was originally an even longer chapter that I ended up dividing up *twice* because it was getting a bit too long considering the density of all that's happening here. Especially after taking a month off, I wanted to have this chapter serve a few different purposes, including refreshing readers on where we are with some of the key characters and plot lines within the greater story.
- Shuri and Scientists - So one trope that sometimes bothers me in media is when we have a solitary genius who just… never asks for help, even when logically, it would be deeply beneficial. I loved having the opportunity to show more about why Shuri didn't involve a lot of people about Bucky's unique case (out of respect for his privacy), but that even she knows when it's clearly time to ask for help. I also think it's a really specific nuance that even T'Challa worried she was keeping things private out of some amount of hubris, when in reality, it was done out of immense respect for Bucky's wishes and all he'd gone through, and that she looked to Ayo and Sam for their valuable opinions on how best to proceed.
- *the Duat - Huge thanks to Ivraedar for a side discussion that led to the inclusion of this term. - "During the events of Civil War, T'Challa mentions Sekhmet during his talk with Nat after his father dies. "Death is not the end." Sekhmet is actually a deity in the Egyptian pantheon, specifically that of a war goddess. The realm of death that would belong to the description of a place would be the Duat. The Duat is where the other gods impose judgement upon souls that cross through." - This term felt especially fitting to me since the surrounding discussion included mention of HYDRA's atrocities, as well as the complexities surrounding what Barnes has done under their control, and I really jived with the idea of the neurologist kinda being like "the gods are gonna impose some judgement on these assholes that did these awful things to this man."
- Shuri and T'Challa - I really enjoy writing for these two, and the sense of shared purpose, love, and respect between them (with a side of sibling banter). I imagine T'Challa has a lot on his plate about now, and I think sometimes with stories, it's easy to be more concerned with our "key heroes" and handwave away things like… "What's going on elsewhere?" "What do regular people think about what's been going on?" etc. I'll admit it continues to be a bit bittersweet writing for T'Challa when we know *something* is set to happen to him in the time between Avengers: Endgame and Wakanda Forever, but I suppose it's a touch cathartic writing about these two and what I imagine was a heartfelt sibling relationship that would be cut short all-too soon. I also love acknowledging that Secretary Ross is off somewhere trying to pull sway with King T'Challa and… failing terribly. And Okoye's very particular vein of sass/humor… I love it.
- Sam and the Drones - I 100% admit that working on "Operation Tender Paws" has only further inflamed my desire to write for Redwing and JB, but this scene here with Redwing's recording…*WHUMP!* I can only imagine how Sam didn't even consider such lost footage was somehow available, and how hard it would hit seeing Steve and Nat alive again. :( That whole period post-Raft where characters were on the run is also one I wish we saw more of in the MCU, as it feels ripe for storytelling, but I appreciate being able to start to *hint* to what I imagine some of it was like here. And shoutout to my friend Ivraedar for adding his thoughts to my potential timeline of how events unfolded (in this case, I'm showing preference to the Black Widow retcon of implied Raft breakout events rather than the Avengers: Infinity War prequel comic).
- Sam and Shuri - When I started writing this story, I had no idea how *thrilled* I would be to write for these two, and I've really been enjoying the opportunity to see their friendship and respect for one-another deepen and evolve beyond just having "a mutual friend." The two having a candid talk about the suit, and if there were any failsafes placed there was a breadcrumb I dropped way back in Chapter 8. I think the conversation offered a great deal of insight between the two of them, especially since I'm not sure Sam had ever stopped to think that Shuri had already seen suits and weapons she's made turned against her and those she cares about (Like Killmonger and the Battle of Mount Bashenga). But I also love the idea that the conversation between these two also has a way of wrapping back to the idea of trust between people and the value of human connection.
- Wakandan Meme/TikTok - I can't tell you how amused I am to imagine that particular meme of T'Challa falling out of the rear hatch of Barne's plane set to cat audio… XD
In any case, if all goes well, I'm hoping to have another chapter out to you later this weekend or soon after as we get this party moving again. :)
As always: Thank you so much for your support, thoughtful comments, kudos, and kind words for this ongoing story. I hope the holidays and this latest update find you well, and thank you for continuing to join me on this journey.