How is it the end of September already? That means we're a little over a month away until the premiere of Wakanda Forever, ahhh! I can't wait! In related news…

I'm delighted to have the opportunity to share a beautiful illustration by Jose Rod Mota ("joserodmota" on Twitter) to accompany this Dora Milaje-infused chapter.

Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art and link to his social media pages to see more of his art!

Once again: Huge thanks to Jose Rod Mota for allowing me to share this piece with all of you!

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Winter of the White Wolf

Chapter 71 - The General's Challenge

Summary:

After Barnes consents to be provoked in order to test his latent instincts, an exercise in training commences at General Okoye's command…

Sam was listening to every syllable the folks a few steps away were utterin', but so far as he could tell, none of them were doing the convenient thing and dropping a name for whatever exercise it was that Okoye was hinging towards. And maybe that was the point? That given a name, some part of Barnes's cross-wired brain might recognize some manner of upcoming specifics that Okoye didn't necessarily want him to prepare for just yet.

But it could be that Sam was just overthinking it. Certainly wouldn't be the first time. Might not even matter much anyway, because if whatever Barnes, Ayo, Yama, and Nomble ran through earlier was some kinda Wakandan sunrise Battle Yoga? Well. Sam was guessin' whatever Okoye had planned was due to incorporate a bucket of flashy descriptors that didn't have a damn thing in common with 'yoga.'

Judging by the renewed tension in Barnes's jaw following Okoye's latest comment about this not bein' about settin' him up for a fair fight, Sam highly suspected 'battle' wasn't off the table as a descriptor, though.

Still, Sam had to give Barnes credit for keepin' himself together. Trust didn't come naturally to him, and he had to be stretching himself thin as a strand of salt water taffy to give T'Challa and Okoye credence when he hardly knew either of 'em. But he was tryin' to meet 'em halfway. Visibly strugglin', but tryin'.

Speaking of: Even though Sam knew the meat and potatoes of this was brewin', he was still having difficulty stomaching the idea that what Barnes needed on the tail end of a heaping of bad news was shaping up to be some kinda organized Dora Milaje-style beatdown. Regardless of the fact he'd clearly agreed to it, that yeah, it prolly wasn't a terrible idea to test whatever reflexes were active under the rusted, dented hood of his, it didn't seem right to just… up and let him volunteer like this.

Right?

But at the same time, Sam, or any number of them could step in and block Barnes's request to be tested, and hurt feelings and cyborg glares aside… then what?

They could just… toss him back in containment and sit on their hands? Wait a few more days playin' board games, makin' flapjacks, and sharin' recipes with him while that hourglass inside his ailing mind slowly ran itself dry? And from what Sam could infer from Shuri's diagnosis, it wasn't as if something sudden would happen at that point, but from then on, however his mind started sliding back on itself, those changes could be frighteningly permanent, like a car sliding on a patch of black ice.

…Which was clearly why Barnes wasn't the only one wondering if the present point he was at right now marked him as a danger to others.

But was this approach necessary? Or was Sam simply having second thoughts because he was realizing it meant he'd have to stand by and watch the man with his Partner's face all-but volunteer for a guaranteed whooping that, if Sam was being honest with himself, he wouldn't have minded being ringside for a time of two way back when the Soldier was a clearly-defined separate person in his head from 'Bucky.'

…Or 'Barnes.'

Sam's anxiety-addled mind tried to focus on that for a moment. To scramble to find some remote drops of offbeat comedy amid all this tension. Instead, his mind treated him to a brutal foregone conclusion: If a troop of organized Dora Milaje had showed up out of the blue to take on the Winter Soldier, not knowing who he was or used to be, Sam was guessin' one or more of 'em wouldn't have walked away if the scene in his head had the opportunity to play out. Not without those goggles of his comin' off and Steve happenin' to catch a look at his childhood best friend.

…Yeah… on second thought… Sam had a bad feeling on how all that would'a ended.

So much for a spot of humor.

…Though it did make him wonder: Had the Soldier or Barnes crossed paths with T'Challa or any of the Wakandans at any other points than the ones Sam and Steve knew of? It wasn't in the dossiers Nat'd slipped them, but back at that point, Wakanda was still hidden in plain view as just another poor, third world nation populated by humble herdsmen, so maybe the Soldier and the Wakandans had crossed paths a time or two before?

Had Ayo or any of 'em asked him about it when he was sleepin' or wasn't around?

Sam wondered, certainly, but it wasn't like dredging up any more of his blood-drenched past for the sake of Sam's tangential curiosities was altogether appropriate as Barnes all-but cowered in front of Okoye's looming presence.

…But he'd said he thought he'd recognized Nat too. But when?

Sam did his best to shake off a number of particularly graphic and grisly thoughts out of his periphery so he could focus on the present. The stakes in front of him were arguably more palatable, granted, but not by nearly as much as he'd hoped.

Factually, standing on either side of him was not only the King and Princess of Wakanda, in close proximity not fifteen feet away were four of their premiere Dora Milaje. Though Wakanda's armored elite hadn't brandished their weapons in Barnes's direction – yet – Sam could feel the call and response and check-ins on expectations and consent steadily building towards that precarious ledge.

And see the thing was, Sam's natural inclination wasn't to be scared of the physicality of real and metaphorical ledges. But what was key was to know about 'em.

How high up were you, and what condition were you in?

What was the status of you and the pack on your back?

What was waitin' down below?

Knowin' all that helped determine the difference between a 'take-off' and a perilous 'fall.' It let you plan for those next-steps, so you could brace yourself for what was comin' in the heartbeats ahead.

But all this here? It was putin' his hair on-end because his mind was strugglin' on what to compare it to, and he wasn't exactly appreciating the limited options his mind conveniently tossed his way as consolation prizes.

Starin' off, there were a few key 'states' Sam was accustomed to seeing the Dora Milaje in. The most common by far was that silent, stoic, standing at attention phase. Second to that was Dora-in-Motion, which in his experience was all business.

But even that came in two flavors he'd witnessed, and by far the brightest of the two was the one seared into his mind from Battles of Wakanda and Earth.

There were folks in high-powered suits and a few individuals slinging around super-powers, sure, even a bonafide god and some wizards – sorcerers, whatever – but a chunk of Wakanda's warriors rushed into that seemingly endless swarm of alien puppies headfirst without hesitation. And they weren't cannon fodder: they were a front line and deadly force to be reckoned with.

That was Sam Wilson's true introduction to the Dora Milaje, and it had a way of sitting with him long after the battles ended and the nightmares he wouldn't admit he had still nipped at his heels and clawed at his throat.

Those nightmares never went away, not entirely, but it was a particular feeling to be standing in the presence of a group of people that prolly had 'em too, even if they weren't talkin' openly about personal matters like that.

And Hell: Barnes might not remember either of those specific battles presently, but he remembered enough other awful stuff that Sam'd sure as hell give 'im a pass in the nightmare department.

But if you asked Sam in the aftermath of those battles if he could'a ever imagined a world where him or Bucky would be on the other side of those spears, he would'a shot the possibility down without a second thought. No way. Not after everything they'd been through. Not after bein' in the trenches together, spillin' alien blood together like that.

…Which was one entry in a long damn list of reasons his gut had churned and turned in on itself at the sight that Buck had done whatever he had to get Zemo a free ticket outta the lockup he'd been put under by the Wakandans. Sam knew they'd be rightfully pissed, and he didn't need a high-tech holographic map to know they'd eventually pick up their trail and come knocking. It wasn't like any of them were tryin' to dodge them outright, but it wasn't like he or Buck had done them the courtesy of picking up a phone to let 'em know about what they were up to, either.

And yeah, Sam would argue it should'a been on Buck to make that particular call, considering the deep roots he had with 'em, but it wasn't like Sam wasn't willfully incapable himself. He'd just opted to willingly sidestep the responsibility, in part because Zemo was actually being marginally useful, and also, he supposed, because he realized with some morbid introspection, that he was running with the not-so-glamorous assumption that Buck'd probably shield Sam from the worst of things, because the Wakandans were liable to be more pissed off at Buck than him.

Even though, you know, Sam'd been there right beside the Wakandans for those battles too.

So yeah. Some heapings of personal introspection told him it was willful ignorance that got'em to that point, but along the way Sam'd assumed the Wakandans would catch up to them eventually: he just didn't know who that would be. T'Challa? Okoye? Maybe some of their scouts on the ground, the War Dogs they'd mentioned.

For whatever reason, in his head, he'd assumed they'd come incognito, wearin' some fancy dress uniform like they did when T'Challa addressed the U.N. They'd show up, ask for Zemo back, and they'd hand him over and grovel for forgiveness, explainin' why they'd done what they had. It never occurred to Sam that instead three Dora he hardly knew would come knocking in full regalia, and he was ashamed now to admit to himself that at the time, he'd been relieved it wasn't someone like Okoye or a member of the royal family instead.

Nope: Instead it'd been three folks that apparently had a personal connection with Buck, and he got to disappoint them in-person too.

But when they showed up to collect in Latveria, Sam knew in advance that he wasn't gonna argue or raise a fuss about it. He was just gonna stand back and let Buck talk to 'em. They'd given him eight extra hours, after all, so whatever he'd said to 'em had to have been reasonably compelling to get the extension on Zemo's leash, right? Sam'd even assumed – not asked, but assumed – that the extra time they got was because Buck'd gone and explained the nuances and wide-reaching ramifications of their situation to 'em. But nope! Apparently he'd kept the details off the table, and asked for an extension to his half-baked plan.

And knowing what he knew now, it'd probably been Ayo he'd spoken with out in whatever Latverian alley she'd tracked him down in. But the fact that Buck'd never specified who it was he'd spoken with… yeah… lookin' back, Sam should'a picked up on some key details that might've helped 'em smooth things over. Spoken up, rather than tucking himself away like he'd had no part in those decisions along the way. Especially when Walker happened to show up around the Wakandans came knocking to collect.

Seein' things in hindsight now, Sam acknowledged hadn't thought highly of Walker, but he hadn't hated him, even if he represented a lot of things Sam didn't like, and carried the shield like it was a merit badge he'd earned for good behavior. Even though he was an ass with diarrhea of the mouth, Sam reasoned he'd probably tossed out a passing whiff of advice for knock-off Cap to stand down precisely because he didn't want to risk a confrontation between all of them and the Dora Milaje.

Instead, Walker failed Negotiation 101 and Sam and Bucky'd stood back and stayed clear of the coming fallout and ringside attraction.

At least that'd been the intent, anyway. In hindsight? Not exactly a shining moment for either of 'em, and they were both jerks for not only not keepin' hold of Zemo, but not clearly siding with the Wakandans. Not that they needed their help to put Walker and Lemar in their place, of course. Any one of the Dora could'a prolly handled them in their sleep, but that didn't give he and Buck the excuse to stand aside and do worse than nothing.

But as a consolation prize, Sam got a firsthand look at an all-new flavor of the action-savvy Dora Milaje, just that instead of using lethal force to dismantle and dismember aliens, they were all-but juggling two idiots.

Well. Four if you counted him and Buck. He couldn't even count Zemo, since the Baron hadn't opted to stick around for the big finale.

And lookin' at things now, Sam realized that the group of them probably hadn't even intended for Walker and Lemar to get in the way of their retrieval for one murder and his temporary 'get out of jail free' card. They weren't out for blood, and far as Sam could tell: some of 'em had aims so smooth and precise that if Clint'd caught sight of 'em in the field, he would'a raised an eyebrow, cracked one of his usual deadpan comments, or taken bets on who had the best trick-shot.

Sam knew it, knew it from the get-go, that the three Dora Milaje in Zemo's upscale flat hadn't been goin' all out at the time. They were clearly using kids' gloves to prove a point and teach the two men in their way some respect so they could get on with their business and collect Zemo. That bit wasn't an accident by any stretch: Walker and Lemar had been permitted to walk away without major injuries because that's what the Wakandans had wanted. What they'd allowed after showin' 'em what a troop of skilled Black women were capable of.

…Well, that and the fact the three of 'em apparently had unresolved issues with a certain dysfunctional cyborg that hadn't returned their messages, so, well, that too.

But those were the three states Sam'd known them in before all this. Silent guardians, deadly skilled warriors, and idiot jugglers, with not much in between to flesh 'em out edgewise. And what Sam was realizing in real-time was that up until recently, he'd only been permitted to see that wisened soldier side of 'em. That they'd made a conscious choice sometime in the last few days to allow him to get a rare glimpse into who they were as people, as individuals.

And that meant something. Especially in the wake of the not insubstantial missteps he and Buck'd made along the way.

Sam could only hope he was holdin' up his end too.

Before all this, Sam could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard any of 'em talk, and he wasn't sure he'd heard Nomble or Yama say a single word until their trip over from Aniana. Though he knew the group's silence now was flush with intensity rather than discontent, his nerves had a way of wishing for an allowance of casual conversation to diffuse the bubbling concern swimmin' laps around his gut for what he knew was comin'. Like it or not: He was getting the sinking feeling that whatever Okoye was planning was closer to what he'd seen out on the sun-blistered battlefield rather than the cozy ringside view inside Zemo's stained glass-lined flat.

The thought of that kinda heavy focus directed at Barnes… well it was profoundly unsettling. It didn't matter if their intention wasn't to slice 'im through like they had with those six-legged space-dog Outrider… things… because this exercise here was shaping up to hold a Hell of a lot more dangerous possibilities than seeing how long they could juggle Walker and Lemar until one of them got bored. Just knowing that the Wakandans were capable of mendin' certain types of injuries in no-time flat opened up a whole bushel of gnarly possibilities that Sam preferred not to think too much about.

A few steps in front of him in the present, Sam watched as General Okoye, leader of the Dora Milaje, took two measured steps back and tapped her spear resonantly against the grassy earth calling for everyone's attention. In a single movement, she slid a foot back and braced herself as she pivoted her spear and pointed its vibranium tip squarely at the center of Barnes's chest.

Something about the intensity of her expression made Sam's decidedly unhelpful memory pull up the putrid breath of those awful alien creatures snappin' and clawin' as they tore at him, only to be cut-down by one of the many regaliaed warriors peppering the battlefield. Sam could remember the peel of their blue blood dripping off their spears and the visceral reek of death left in their wake. And seeing the Dora Milaje surrounding him – not just nameless warriors, but Ayo, Yama, and Nomble – immediately responding by flourishing their razor-sharp spears towards Barnes… it was profoundly unsettling in a way that stopped Sam's wandering, anxiety-riddled thoughts dead in their tracks.

No one moved. Sam wasn't even sure any of 'em were collectively breathing as Shuri diplomatically stepped back and turned her head so she could lock eyes with him to get his attention. Sam was casually aware other folks were lookin' at him too, prolly even T'Challa and Barnes, but it was Shuri's eye-line he happened to catch first. With an empathetic inclination of her head, the Princess silently gestured a hand towards the nearest boundary of their makeshift encampment.

Now somewhere in the back of Sam's mind, he was aware she was extending a limb as a polite prompt to effectively take shelter with her and her brother so the three of them could watch and observe the upcoming nameless battle exercises from a safe distance. Sam wasn't opposed to movin', it was just that his legs were momentarily locked in place while he negotiated with his senses, because the man he saw out in the open, willingly facing off against the tips of those sharp spears was a lotta things all at once.

Barnes's only movement so far was to spread open his hands beside him for balance, and to use one foot to step back, bracing himself in a pose that Sam's anxiety-riddled mind quickly identified as… oddly enough: uniquely 'Barnes.' There was a flavor of the Soldier tucked around the edges there too if he looked hard enough at that hunkered-down posture of his, but the way he was bracing himself didn't have that lick of surefire aggression Sam'd come to associate with the once HYDRA operative. Instead, it sent Sam straight back to that Design Center's Propulsion Laboratory, when he'd found himself remarkably and unexpectedly alive after that cyborg-calculated fall, only to regain consciousness in time to see Not-Bucky standing a few feet away from him, planning to hold his own against a troop of Dora Milaje all on his lonesome.

Whether it was clear in the man's own mind at the time or not, Sam realized now that Barnes had been set on protecting Sam, defending him, even if it would have been more effective to his whole 'Escape from Mount HYDRA' plan for Barnes to leave Sam behind to figure things out. Barnes could'a easily just high-tailed it outta there on one of those experimental jets that Sam had no idea Barnes was even capable of flyin' at the time.

Sam still wasn't entirely sure when the flip'd happened, but somewhere along the way, he'd gone from being merely a hostage and Samsel in distress to worth defending outright. And Barnes hadn't had the wherewithal to just throw half-baked threats around, no – he'd reviewed the incomplete hand of cards he'd been dealt and opted to make a stand stand against two waves of armed Dora Milaje, all because he wasn't about to let Sam fall into the hands of people the other guy mistakenly assumed to be HYDRA. Not only that, but Barnes'd kept on defending him, even when the half-amnesiatic cyborg was set to fight back tooth and claw against pursuit vehicles and even the Black Panther himself.

And seein' him now, standing out there in an open sprawl of grass backed by small but remarkable tokens of humanity, Sam saw more: a steel-blue bedroll, pillows, colorful geometric blankets, a toothbrush, organized piles of clothes, and even a book Nomble'd let him borrow. The nearest thing it reminded him of were the many haunts Bucky – or was it Barnes? – had occupied when he'd been on the run from HYDRA after Washington D.C.

The ones Sam knew of, at least.

Sam was surprised how hard the crash of memories hit him, and how they stirred up a fresh wave of frustration for the other man's plight. Like he was cursed to go from one fight to another, strugglin' to do the right thing, even when he was finally given a choice in the matter.

And it made him miss Buck, certainly. He'd be lyin' to himself if it didn't. But it also made him feel for Barnes in particular. Like the sight of it gave Sam a fresh swell of awkward appreciation for how everything'd gone down two days ago, and how much worse it could'a been, too. While Sam'd certainly been on the receiving end of a lot, he knew now that Barnes'd been doin' his best too. He just wasn't workin' without a full set of cards.

Even now, he wasn't: But he wasn't lettin' that stop him from tryin' to make the most out of what he had.

Sam wasn't sure who his next words were for, maybe Shuri? He didn't care much, as long as someone heard 'em, "Earlier y'all were using your staves with the blades retracted, couldn't you start with–?"

"–It's okay, Sam," Barnes's remarkably even voice cut in before he could continue pleading his case for less sharp objects on the battlefield. But when Sam happened to trace his way back to those cool blue eyes of his, he found Barnes focused not on the vibranium weapons pointed in his direction, but on Sam. The familiar way he'd said Sam's name had a way of offering reassurances coupled with quiet resignation, or was it acceptance? "It's part of the exercise."

"What exercise?" Logically, Sam knew the name of it shouldn't matter, not really, and maybe there was a part of him that was just seeing fit to operate his own lips as a tactical approach to delay standing by and watching Barnes take on a troop of Dora Milaje himself – again – but who was counting?

He certainly wasn't.

Sam's lips were still movin' of their own accord, "No stranger to violence here, even the opt-in kind, but all of you'd be doin' me a service if you could make it a little less of an insider's club for the peanut gallery startin' out, unless that's a strict requirement of what you're getting at?"

He found himself looking towards Ayo, Yama, and Nomble nearest him. Though they stayed facing Barnes with their spears flourished, Yama tell-tale eye glanced his way. True-to-form, she stayed silent, even though Sam was certain she'd have been more'n happy to answer him or maybe mouth the words if no one was lookin'.

Knowin' her, that would'a been just her style.

By the fact Okoye spoke up without turning to face him, Sam was betting that he'd probably broken some sort of Wakandan protocol. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time, "We will start with "Isikhukula weiincakuba, a 'Torrent of Blades.'"

Yeah, that… didn't help his nerves any. And judging by the twisting tension in his jaw and burning in his lungs? Might've even made 'em worse, but his lips were still still flappin' to delay the inevitable, "And the play of that is…?"

Okoye made a grunting noise low in her throat that Sam took for irritation, but this time, she briefly cast a glance over her shoulder first to Sam, and then to King T'Challa nearest to her. Now Sam couldn't decipher the Book of Okoye, but he had a feeling at least a trickle of her present annoyance at his continued impropriety might've translated to a plea for one of her royal charges to silence their outspoken guest so she could get to work.

Instead, T'Challa just pleasantly folded his arms over one another, making it clear he was not presently inclined to intervene on her behalf. Two steps beside her, Shuri was similarly mum, but offered Okoye a meek shrug as a consolation prize for her weak attempt at non-verbal negotiation efforts.

Okoye might've grumbled something under her breath before she leaned back with her spear so she was upright again. The General kept her eyes forward, fixated on Barnes, but Sam got the impression her words were meant to quell Sam's own nerves, like she was being forced to go through this formality by Sam's insistent request, "The terms are to fight with purpose until your opponent yields, or are divested of their weapon." Her tone shifted, growing a hair less irritated as her attention returned to Barnes specifically, "Do you remember these terms?"

The man standing hunched in front of her flinched lightly, but bobbed his head once, "Yeah," he spoke the single word like it was a predetermined answer. Which it probably was. A display of call and response between him and Okoye for Sam's solemn benefit. "And at least a few of the bruises."

That last bit though… was that Barnes-brand humor?

Judging from the other man's posture, Sam took a stab in the dark that he remembered a fair bit more than just bruises. Ever the experienced negotiator, Captain Samuel Wilson shifted his approach, "Okay but… are you sure about this?"

The other man's cool blue eyes flicked to Sam, and he managed a deep breath in and out before he responded with probably a drop more honesty than Sam'd been bracing for, "No, but I've gotta know," he pressed. "It's better we find out here and now. Not like it's going to be any easier tomorrow, and it might be my only shot, since…" Barnes's gravelly voice faded off and he swallowed, locking his jaw to cut off the words he didn't dare speak aloud.

In the moment, Sam found it eerily easy to silently finish off the pained words Barnes'd been building to:

"...since I don't know how long I have left."

Sam had to take a grounding breath of his own as T'Challa's resonant voice stepped into the thick and heavy silence hanging between them, "Shall we?" the King extended a hand towards the ring of fallen logs encircling their makeshift encampment. His tone was absent of demand however, and Sam caught the question lingering in its wake.

But he couldn't feel certain about any of this. Hell: none of 'em did, including Barnes. Which was precisely why they were doin' this to begin with, and why they were takin' it so seriously too.

Sam just had to hope they knew what they were doin'. And that no one got seriously hurt.

Or worse.

He wanted to offer some words of encouragement, but instead his normally overactive mouth came up empty of anything valuable besides what he hoped was abundantly obvious, "Okay, yeah. I'll hang tight." And with that, he let the King of Wakanda usher him and Shuri to those court-side seats for the coming fray.

None of 'em seemed inclined to sit, so they stood in tight little row, tucked in behind the nearest set of logs bordered with an embroidered red and brown bedroll and two of Nomble's books. Just Captain America, a Princess Tech Genius, and the King of Wakanda, poised to watch things play out.

Well, more accurately: The three of them were on unofficial standby just in case any of 'em were needed for any of the reasons Sam didn't want to think too much about.

Sam was certainly hoping that wouldn't be necessary, but it was a mixed bag of reassuring to know he was surrounded by heavy-hitters and medical miracles if it came down to it.

Once he was satisfied that Sam and the others were out of harm's way, Barnes lowered his head a notch and refocused his attention on Okoye, who was bearing down on him just a few steps away. With decided intention, he addressed her in what Sam'd come to assume was Wakandan, "Ndikulungele.*"

If there was any pre-emptive acknowledgement from Okoye's side, Sam plum missed it, because the next thing he knew, Okoye was pivoting the business end of her spear back at Barnes, and using that commanding battlefield presence of hers to call the warrior women around her into a rush of motion, "Phambili!

The change in all of them was instantaneous, and so sudden that Sam found himself taking an instinctive step back as Okoye spiraled her spear around the armor of her neck, forcing Barnes to nearly roll back on himself to keep from being struck by the abrupt whirl of motion. On the tail end of the maneuver, Yama ducked down just enough that Ayo, who'd been standing at the far end of the meadow, could dash forward and launch herself off Yama's shoulders… bringing the shaft of her spear down directly down onto where Sam swore Barnes's head might've been only a half a second earlier.

The crack of her spear connected sharply with the metal plates of his left forearm. He didn't try to grapple with her, instead he abruptly pulled away from the contact, backpedaling to put space between them.

That might've been his intent alright, but so far as Sam could tell, the surrounding Dora hadn't gotten the memo. Two blurs he assumed were Yama and Nomble came in with swift, calculated hits from either side, forcing Barnes back and rotating him so his heels pivoted towards the wooded treeline rather than the steep drop-off a short distance away. The kinda sharp and precipitous fall you aren't likely to get back up from, even if the name on your ID happens to say 'James Buchanan Barnes.'

So hey? Some part of Sam thought that was at least a fraction of kindness that this whole "Torrent of Blades" thing didn't include making an effort to see how Barnes would react to the prospect of a very real, possibly deadly fall.

…Or maybe that was part of a later exercise?

…Fuck...

…They wouldn't…

…Would they…?

What started off as four distinct individuals doging in and out of range of Barnes's defensive maneuvers steadily built into a shell game. Forms blended into one another, and spears flew and changed hands so many times that Sam could hardly keep track of who was doing what, and how much of it was improv intent on distracting Barnes, and how many of those moves were coordinated with the intent to provoke him into action. And he was 'acting,' alright. Just as defensive as anything as he dodged more blows than he took, but he certainly didn't dodge all of 'em.

Each of the Dora connected with him at one point or another, but the only one that Sam could easily pick out was Okoye, not only because her gold regalia stood out among the group, but because she kept pressin' forward, as if she wasn't willing to give up an inch of ground against the man in front of her, even in the rare cases he tried to negotiate some much-needed personal space.

Not just that, but unlike Ayo, Yama, or Nomble, Okoye did not remain silent. She took point on the exercise, calling out commands in what Sam had to assume from Barnes's reactions was a language he didn't know. But those bursts of motion kept coming, kept evolving as they repeatedly struck out against an unarmed opponent who was being forced to dance away from a barrage of orchestrated motion and flashes of red, brown, silver, and gold. They came at him in singles and pairs, moving in tandem while their sisters flanked him and interjected themself into the fray in short bursts before peeling off again like an organized predator pack.

Sam'd seen training exercises aplenty, but this here wasn't like anything he'd witnessed or taken part in. Beyond the vibranium accouterments – ones which Sam knew were fully capable of firing disabling blue energy pulses – the Air Force hadn't exactly been a huge proponent of spears or bo staff weapons training. But even if they had, it wouldn't'a been anything like this.

This wasn't just a loose assembly of glorified Color Guard enthusiasts. No: what was striking, mind-blaringly disconcerting was how the motion of them as individuals and as a group flowed into one another like torrents of water. Like they were movin' to their own rhythms as a group, relying on their strengths in a way that went beyond simply 'highly organized' and verged on feelin' like they were tappin' into something bordering on otherworldly. Spears changed hands regularly, flung across the battlefield with not only remarkable precision, but intention of either herding Barnes, or offering bursts of movement to distract him from his latest dance partner.

Case in point.

While the Dora took turns swinging, and sometimes even stabbing at Barnes, it was clear Okoye and Ayo were the two takin' point, forcing him to regularly choose between blocking one or connecting with the other. And he was definitely taking some hard hits along the way from the two of them in particular.

Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Okoye and Ayo fight side-by-side quite like this, but there was a shared tempo to their movements, and they hardly needed to glance at one-another to adjust to what the other was doin'. They were in tune with one another in a way that came from years of honed practice, and while Sam'd never thought to ask Ayo outright about their history – because he sure as Hell wasn't about to ask Okoye – but if Sam had to guess? The two'd probably trained together extensively. Maybe even been the Dora Milaje-equivalent of 'partners' at some point too.

Huh!

He bet there was a story there. But that was a story for another time.

The energy of the Dora was a bright flurry of motion, but from where Sam was standing, Bu – Barnes's – movements were comparatively defensive, guarded. It was like watching armed, acrobatic instigators take pot-shots at a wary puppy. And sure: it wasn't like he was snappin' back at 'em, or goin' full feral Soldier on 'em, but about all Sam was seein' through his particular courtside lens was that Barnes was willing to take a beating if that's what the Wakandans wanted. And not so very deep down, Sam hoped that wasn't the actual working process for whatever this 'Torrent of Blades' amounted to.

Though yeah, the name was apt.

There it was again: That fraction of Sam's conscience that was swiftly reminded of standing by and watching Ayo, Nomble, and Yama give Walker and Lemar an instructional beat-down. But that's where comparisons ended. None of 'em had been goin' for broke. It prolly wouldn't'a looked good to have a report back about how a group of very much not-disguised Wakandans had landed the newest made-to-order Cap and his buddy in a hospital in Latveria because he didn't know when to keep his damn trap shut.

Seriously? 'Put down the pointy sticks?' Who says that to someone and expects a good reaction? Not like Walker'd been there in the trenches with them in the Battles of Wakanda and Earth.

…Maybe he was one of those idiots who thought the whole thing was made up? Sam wouldn't'a put it past him.

That particular bucket of conspiracy theories aside, Yama'd once mentioned that she'd overheard some of that drivel Walker'd spewed about putin' down the shield so it could be a 'fair fight.' Knowing what Sam did now, the remark had a way of gettin' him wondering how much of the ringside show in Latveria was on account of the Wakandans wanting to defend their own solemn honor, and how maybe a fraction of that might've been them defending his honor in their own round-about way. Because that warning shot Nomble'd tossed between 'em after John ran his mouth? That'd plunged through the room long before he'd caught sight of any of 'em, or ever thought to try his hand at low-key insulting the Dora Milaje.

Yeah. Sam'd never asked any of them explicitly about all that, but he did wonder.

…Not that that wonderin' was offering Barnes a drop of assistance in the painful present as he hit the ground hard and rolled over his shoulder with an impact that spoke to desperation to avoid the blow following it rather than any cat-like assassin grace.

And Okoye? Okoye wasn't even breaking a sweat.

Sam knew this wasn't his fight, he wasn't the one they had questions and well-meaning concerns about, but as he fidgeted his anxious hands together, the sight of Barnes trying to hold his own against the four of them had a way of making him feel genuinely guilty for turning down Okoye's half-serious offer to have him join in on the parade of pain.

Logically, he knew Okoye was holdin' back, at least a little. He'd seen her deliver death blows to Outriders, same as Ayo and the others, but the force behind her swings now wasn't the tentative energy of mere sparring.

She meant business. As if lives depended on it.

Which it did.

Ayo was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, and her coordinated attacks alongside Okoye were equally fierce and pressing, and it was the edge of her blade that drew first blood.

The slice wasn't deep, but it danced across Barnes's tanned skin just below the right sleeve of his shirt. Anyone else would'a reacted, at least looked down to survey the extent of the damage, but Barnes flat-out ignored it, bringing up his other arm to defend against Okoye's calculated under-and-up follow up blows that repeatedly drove him back in what looked to be an attempt to keep him continually off-balance.

While the group of them kept their expressions neutral, Sam didn't miss that both Ayo and Yama's eyes glanced down and then, as if they were privately keeping inventory of the hits landed against Barnes. Maybe it was so they could avoid over-exerting any particular sore spots, or more likely: they were seeing fit to keep track to ensure the stubborn asshole got the treatment he needed after all this was up.

Either way it was a rough watch, and for a moment there, Sam'd gotten so absorbed in trying to keep tabs the action of those frighteningly sharp blades and warring limbs that he'd practically forgotten who was standing beside until T'Challa's smooth voice emerged between strikes of vibranium, "If it is of any comfort," the King began, "It is customary training amongst the Dora Milaje, and not unlike similar exercises Shuri and I have undergone over the years."

Sam was certain the comment was meant to make him feel better about standing by and watching while Barnes dodge, block, and redirect blow-after-savage-blow, but the sentiment only went so far. "I've had training too," Sam admitted, "But this… isn't the same thing."

"Give them time to do their work," Shuri's rhythmic voice assured him, "I assure you that what you see now is less about what our eyes perceive, and more about what their bodies and senses tell them."

Her words were nice and all, twinged with that hint of Wakandan crypticness that might've been due to the fact Barnes could probably hear them chattering on a short distance away, but it still felt awful to watch him and wonder what this was doin' 'sides risking traumatizing him further.

From where Sam was standing, they were toying with him, herding him like an obedient sheep, and Barnes willingly gave into their flanking attempts as they rapidly adjusted and re-adjusted their formation around him, always keeping him moving out in the open, and away from both the cover of trees and that steep mountain ledge.

But the suddenly disabling move they pulled together was quick and effective. One moment they were a flurry of motion, the next, the Doras behind and on either side of Barnes converged, bringing their spears around his neck in a tight vibranium chokehold at the same time Okoye ducked and swept the shaft of her spear, pulling his legs out from under him with enough force to drop him to the ground ass-first.

He hit it hard enough Sam clenched his jaw, hoping the other man's tail-bone was suitably stronger than average.

Barnes reached up his right hand in a feeble attempt to try and grip the shaft pressed against his throat, but his bruised fingers were promptly struck away by the side of Okoye's blade. When he tried again, this time with his vibranium hand, the women around him tightened their hold defiantly, keeping him rigidly pinned in place without a drop of electric or super-human strength.

From just beside him, Shuri's voice attempted to offer Sam reassurances and soothe his nerves, "He will be fine."

But Sam didn't take his eyes off the three silver-clad Dora pinning Barnes down and the stern gold-clad General looming over him making crisp demands as Barnes continued to struggle. But before he could start changing color beyond a flushed pink, he finally acquiesced a mouthful of syllables that Sam woulda' bet was Wakandan for "I yield."

Barnes's words had an immediate effect, and the three matching shafts of vibranium surrounding his neck pulled away as the Dora around him stepped back and reset.

Well, two of 'em did. Nomble stood where she was a moment and extended her palm towards Barnes to offer him a hand up, but Okoye's critical voice abruptly cut off the gesture, prompting Nomble to frown and retract her hand. As she stepped back into formation with the others, Sam didn't miss the quiet look of apology she cast in her wake, but it quickly returned to a Dora's neutral as Okoye addressed her with a tone that was not complimentary.

Sam couldn't understand a damn word Okoye was leveling in her direction, but she looked to be chewing into both Nomble and Yama about something or other, though her fierce eyes made time in their schedule to occasionally include Ayo too.

Shuri kept her voice barely above a whisper of the breeze as she leaned towards Sam, "Our General feels her Lieutenants are not suitably playing to their strengths. That they are going easy on him because he is not engaging them in earnest."

And then Okoye… stopped what she was saying mid-sentence long enough to look over one shoulder and deliver an annoyed look to Shuri. The General made an audible grumble before she continued laying into Nomble, Yama, and Ayo.

In response Shuri frowned, but T'Challa smiled lightly and filled in the blanks at a regular volume, "Now our General speaks to them in a coded language spoken only by the Dora Milaje so we cannot offer royal commentary."

"You and your 'Ibhondi Yomgcini*' suit each other," Shuri observed at a suitably pronounced volume Sam was certain was directed at her brother but meant for Okoye.

"I could say the same," T'Challa parroted back, amused.

While the four Dora stood in a cluster listening to Okoye and occasional answering what must've been questions, Barnes waited patiently on the ground from a short distance away, like he wasn't sure if he was even allowed up. He didn't say a word as he watched them, obediently waiting until it was his turn to take another beating while a trickle of blood dribbled down his arm and onto that once-clean shirt of Buck's that he and Shuri'd brought over for him.

Maybe the Wakandans had a miracle cleaner to get blood outta cotton too?

Sam did what he could to temper the mixed irritation and disbelief in his voice, "That was the Doras holdin' back during a training exercise?" Sam whispered to Shuri and T'Challa at once, "And of course Barnes is holding back. But isn't that the whole point of all'a this?"

Sam'd floated the question out loud, but he didn't get a reply as he watched the troop of Dora Milaje reset. Okoye was direction' her words at Barnes now. She flicked the end of her spear towards him, prompting him to get to his feet and hang back as he faced her with that careful, bruised and battered puppy-dog expression that belonged on the back of a milk carton, or maybe an infomercial accompanied by a Sarah McLachlan serenade.

If Sam had to guess: Okoye had her own host of criticisms for Barnes's performance, but he took 'em without debate or complaint. When she flourished her spear and spun it, Sam was thinkin' she was getting ready for another go-around, but then she suddenly retracted it until it was nothing more than a vibranium cylinder in her hand…

…which she promptly tossed to Ayo. She caught it easily, but cocked her head, visibly confused.

The other Dora stayed where they were with their spears pointed towards the sky as Okoye reached into her leathered pocket and pulled out a small knife with a curved blade.

– Okoye had a karambit? –

And then Okoye, General of the Dora Milaje, launched herself towards Barnes all on her own.

Okoye wasn't playin', and Barnes looked as though he was caught in the headlines for a moment as he was rapidly forced to back off, process, and re-orient himself to this dramatic change in approach and fighting style.

But she wasn't givin' him time to do anything other than think on his feet.

He missed the feign that led to the follow-through where Okoye thrust the butt of the weapon directly into Barnes's ribs with enough force that Sam was pretty sure the crack he heard was bone itself. If she'd chosen instead to use the business end of that short, sickle blade of hers, that could've easily been a lung or worse.

In response, Barnes flinched and had the wherewithal to look a drop offended as he scrambled to grapple for the knife, but Okoye came in with a blow from her vibranium-encrusted forearm before his fingers could come within inches of his hopeful victory prize and followed through with rapid movements that crowded him and tested his reflexes.

She was light on her feet, but purposeful in her movements in a full-body fighting style that was a little bit of a lot of things rolled into one: Sam thought he could pick out bits and pieces of Laamb, Silat, even some Muay Thai thrown in for good measure. But before they'd even fallen into a rhythm, Okoye used one hand to distract him with the knife before spinning and jamming her outstretched armored toes behind Barnes's knee.

He dropped like a bag of flour.

Without a moment's hesitation, she held the bladed tip of the karambit against his throat in a clean pin, and he breathed that same pattern of surrendered words again.

But Okoye must've been lookin' for something else from him, because the tone of voice she addressed him with grew harder and more demanding. He repeated the words, but she didn't let him up.

Okoye's voice carried a growled warning with it that was as low as it was threatening, and Shuri whispered a Cliffs Notes version for Sam's benefit, "She is reprimanding him for tapping out prematurely. She says if he continues to play at being unnecessarily submissive, it is a waste of all of their time."

If Okoye was aware of Shuri's latest translation attempts or not, she chose to ignore them as she kept her attention and bubbling words focused squarely on Barnes.

"Okoye says she did not come here to punish him," Shuri whispered to Sam. "She orders him to fight back and show his teeth, or else she will not hesitate to conclude the exercise and consider her verdict drawn."

Ayo might not've been saying anything to Okoye's one-sided monologue, but when Sam glanced over to get a read on her, he could tell she was struggling to not come to Barnes's aid. He didn't miss that Yama and Nomble were looking between them too, as if they both hoped their senior officer might choose to intervene.

But Sam saw Ayo's almost imperceivable shake of her head, and he got the impression that even though the three of them were clearly eager to help, that it wasn't how this dynamic of theirs was bound to play out. What Okoye wanted was to see Barnes come to his own defense.

Which he actually did.

Barnes's words were slow in coming, but though he was breathing hard, his tone was even and composed. It lacked the focused heat of Okoye's words, but from where Sam was standing, it was still a strange thing to see him speaking their mother tongue with any fluency. Buck speaking it had been a little unexpected, but it tracked. This though…? It was smooth and oddly natural.

Shuri didn't translate Barnes's meaning, but Sam wasn't sure he needed the exact words when the intention was clear enough, even from this distance:

"I'm trying my best."

Okoye snorted once and eyed him critically before stepping back and turning her gaze towards Ayo, who tossed the cylinder of her spear back to her. For a moment, Okoye said nothing. She simply stood, evaluating Barnes against some unseen metric as she tested the weight of the compressed weapon in her hand. She lifted her chin before throwing another volley of syllables at Barnes, who remained on his knees a short distance away.

Whatever it was prompted him to look up at her and set his jaw. He nodded once and said something to her before getting back to his feet and hefting in another breath of air.

Seemingly satisfied, Okoye extended her spear and barked an order to the women on either side of her. They flourished their spears in unison, pointing them in his direction. With another command, the four of them charged him as a cohesive group.

Sam picked up on the change in energy immediately.

Nomble pitched her spear across Barnes's vision, and when he reached out in an attempt to grab it out of the air, Yama was on him in an instant, swooping the shoe of her spear into the small of his exposed armpit before she danced out of the way of the fist that followed. Sam knew a bait when he saw one, and he was guessing by the shift in dynamic that Okoye'd told him in no uncertain terms that he ought to do less of the cowardly yielding, and more of the trying to divest one of them of a weapon.

Maybe there was even a little shit-talk spiced in.

Whatever it was, what they were doin' now was teasin' him, but they were doing a damn good job of it.

Okoye snapped an order that might've been for Barnes as he made a play for the nearest end of Ayo's staff. His outstretched fingers locked around it and pulled, but within half a second, the flat of a nearby blade came in hard and cracked hard against the back of his knuckles, forcing him to break his grip before he could tug the weapon away.

The sight and volatile sound of metal striking bone made Sam's own knuckles ache. For whatever reason, his hyperactive, anxiety-riddled mind saw fit to serve up a comment Buck'd once made in passing, when a pipe on the Wilson family boat'd decided to make its annoyance known.

"Why didn't you use the metal arm?" Sam'd asked, confused.

"Well, I don't always think of it immediately." Buck considered aloud as he regarded the plates of exposed vibranium that shaped the arm in question, "I'm right handed."

…Was Barnes right handed?

The man's movements struck Sam as more soft ambidextrous, but his preference for leveraging his right arm was undeniable, even though each time he did, it was costing him a heap of bruises he might've otherwise avoided if he'd chosen differently.

Or maybe there was something else to it Sam was missing?

Sam wasn't sure what Shuri and T'Challa were seein' from their vantage points on either side of him, but he wanted to think he read a spark of added interest in their royal expressions, as if this renewed fight in Barnes was something they were hoping to see kindled.

And on one hand: Yeah, it was good seeing Barnes fight back, but it was also a little unnerving seeing just how swiftly the group of organized Dora were able to still his progress. He'd make handholds here and there on one staff of another, but the moment he did, they were on him in an instant like a swarm of angry, choreographed hornets.

The interesting thing about it was, Sam knew his Partner – or Barnes, or whoever – well enough to see that he wasn't using kids' gloves any longer either. He was putting weight and superhuman strength behind a choice selection of his moves and counter moves now, and the warriors around him were not only playing into it, but using it against him.

He managed to punch back a calculated double-strike by Yama only to be caught up in a flurry of close-combat maneuvers led by Okoye, who seemed inclined to crowd his personal space, challenging for every inch. He briefly met her aggressive energy, but she and Ayo coordinated to draw his focus with such surgical precision that it allowed Nomble the opportunity to leap from behind him and bring her staff across his neck in a smooth, singular chokehold.

Caught by surprise, Barnes found himself being pulled back far enough that the color of his face rapidly dipped towards an oxygen-starved red. But when Okoye shouted something at him, he didn't yield. Instead, he half-choked something back at her, and grabbed Nomble's staff in both hands before flinging his head forward in an attempt to send her over him like a loose bull-rider so he could claim the prize of her staff.

Instead, Nomble held firm as she acrobatically flipped over him and twisted, using their combined momentum and the grip on her staff to force him to one knee.

But he didn't stay down.

He turned that into a roll and came up with a sharp kick to her gut. For a moment, the sight made Sam's breath catch in his throat as he recognized one of the Soldier's signature moves back in action.

T'Challa must've caught it too, because he took a step forward as the group of them collectively held their breaths and watched Nomble fly backwards from the sudden impact.

It was like it all happened in slow motion. All of them, the other Dora included, watched helplessly as her airborne body cartwheeled through the air. It was like they were in Shuri's lab again, and…

…the momentum of the kick carried her into the grass… an identifiably not super-powered distance away.

Nomble hit the ground in a rough but calculated cat-like sprawl. As she rolled, she dug the tip of her staff deep into the earth that turned into a means to help her spring back to her feet in record time. When she did, she quickly shook herself off and faced Barnes from across the clearing with a focused expression that blended seamlessly into something lighter and almost… mirthful…? She bobbed her head once in acknowledgement at his skilled – but not overpowered – counter-maneuver.

And Barnes didn't say a word, but he gave Nomble a single nod in reply that said it all.

Somewhere in there Sam remembered to breathe again, and he could see the relief in the faces surrounding him as they enjoyed a private celebration at the discovery that Barnes had indeed managed to temper his strength like he claimed he could, even when the people facing him weren't.

With renewed vigor, that vibrant troop of Dora Milaje and one ex-Winter Soldier launched themselves back into the fray.

Ayo felt the change in the air immediately, and it was one she welcomed and embraced.

White Wolf had always been… tentative… when pressed for willing combat against King T'Challa, Princess Shuri, or even General Okoye, but the challenge Okoye leveled at him was clear: If he chose to continue to play at being meek, hiding his claws and and showing his belly merely to entertain them, then she would end the exercise and speak her verdict aloud.

Ayo found the precision of Okoye's words carried fact rather than threat as she reminded him they did not make efforts to mend him and care for him over the passing days only to punish him now. King Azzuri often said that the only way to truly judge a man was to engage him in battle, and that was what Okoye sought to do with Barnes now.

But Barnes didn't hold his tongue like an intimidated initiate. Instead, he'd had the wherewithal to dispute her perceptions, which was something Ayo couldn't remember White Wolf ever daring. The words he wove were not improper, nor was the tone carried on their mother tongue. It was so effortlessly natural that the inflection could have easily been confused for someone who had spoken the language since their teens or childhood, "It is not that I am unwilling to fight back," he'd clarified, "I'm just trying to establish a baseline for how much force I'm supposed to use in return without risking hurting anyone."

Okoye heard him, but swiftly countered his claim, "Continuing to willingly take hits on your own body is a poor measure of what force you may levy back at us." Without taking her fierce eyes off him, she went on to add, "Each of us had toppled far stronger adversaries than you. Your excuses were only that: excuses. You claim to have mastery over your instincts. If that is the case, then show us, but do not waste our time with performative coddling. If you permit us to subdue you yet again without taking one of their weapons for a trophy, then I will consider this exercise concluded."

It was a challenge alright, and one that he was at a decided disadvantage to achieve, especially since super-serum or no, in no world was he evenly matched against four prepared Dora Milaje.

Still, with renewed vigor, and perhaps a little desperation to prove himself, he tried.

Rather than continue to dance back like a wary cub, Barnes found openings to dodge between them in the hopes of wrestling away one of their spears as a prize. Ever alert, Okoye's swift hand signals and coded commands let Ayo and her Lieutenants know when their General wished to give Barnes and his latest opponent air to tangle one-on-one before others were permitted to intervene. Her calls became an artificial timer of sorts, where Barnes was allowed small pockets of time to try to divest one of the Dora of their spear before her sisters came in to assist.

The encounters were earnest in their ferocity, and a time or two Ayo thought he might actually manage to wrest one of their weapons free, but the cleverness of her Dora were not to be questioned.

Yama's latest cunning was particularly sly. When Barnes managed to get a solid grip on her spear with both hands and she found she could not divest him of his prize, Yama pummeled and kicked against his stomach and clavicle in measured bursts using one of her favored fighting styles. Her Lieutenant's energy was earnest, but by the look of strain in the muscles around her throat and the pitch and pivot of the spear held between them, Ayo could tell Barnes was willing himself to use his strength against her. When she found her latest bait to get him to release one end of the spear unsuccessful, she rapidly changed tactics.

Some might've argued that she fought dirty as she ran up his body, kicking like a stubborn mountain goat before leaping back and using her momentum and full weight of her body to force the shoe of the contested spear to come precariously close to a particularly sensitive area below his navel. But before it could make contact, Barnes twisted to one side and she retracted her weapon into a collapsed cylinder, wheeling away before Barnes could recover his grip or land a retaliatory blow. In a single smooth motion, Yama pivoted and thrust the spear back into its full length form and with expert precision, bidding the sharp point to spear the ground a hair's breadth away from the front of his left boot, where a similar spear had once split his foot into two. The move was a bold tease and reminder that many of her own well-honed skills had nothing at all to do with mending flesh and bone.

Serious as the stakes of their fight were, Ayo found herself oddly proud at seeing their renewed willingness to engage with one another and the glistening sweat dancing over their skin that spoke to the sincerity of their challenge and the growing costs of their continued exertion. But tiring as such training was, Ayo would have been the first to admit that it felt good to exercise again after too many days spent lounging around like lazy, placated lions.

Before Barnes could pursue Yama for an unofficial rematch, Ayo swiftly inserted herself between them, whirlwinding her spear around her forearms and the armor of her neck to cut off his advance and force him back. He rapidly adjusted and lowered his center of balance, shuffling his feet across the sprawl of dewey wet grass as he dodged out of the way of the shaft that weaved in and out of his eyeline with calculated precision.

Yet the sizable experience behind the reactions of the man facing her was not lost on her either. He was no longer merely beset on defensive posturing, but instead his alert eyes looked for openings, for weakness in her advances. Ayo could feel it in the increasing force of the blows he placed upon her armored body and the heightened tension between them when he connected with the vibranium staff in her hands and bloodied her lip with a well-placed punch.

She could feel it too in the steady ache she would not admit to in her bad leg.

Ayo couldn't know if Barnes sensed it or if it was a conscious choice that weighed into his countermeasures against her, but though he struck elsewhere, he never made explicit contact with her left knee.

With a flourish of motion, she cut in and pressed her advance, falling into a renewed rhythm of battle. She adjusted her hands and struck out with the sharp of her blade to one side and then the other, close enough that it risked slicing into the flesh of his forearm if he was not careful, but controlled enough that when he rose one hand up to block and then the other to try and snatch her weapon out of the air, that his fingers came up empty.

With an unspoken urgency due in no small part to Okoye standing and passing judgment a short distance away from them, he changed tactics and went on the offensive, cutting low and swiping at her feet in an attempt to get her off-balance long enough to put the shaft of the spear within reach again.

But the trick with fighting like this was to never lose sight of the greater picture. To think on your feet, plan ahead, and be able to look for signs on what your opponent planned. A skilled combatant could pick out tells and leverage them back against their adversary. Flickers of opportunity could be drawn out from repeated tendencies, mismanaged focus, or inadvertently letting your intentions be known before the time was ripe.

Ayo did her best to focus on what were truly the priorities laid before her, but she would have been lying herself if she did not admit that she had not anticipated how strange this all was, due in no small part that she was not entirely certain who it was she was fighting against.

Initially, their interactions in combat had reminded her of when James first came to Wakanda, but perhaps even more tentative yet. That was over seven years ago, and while it was no longer fresh in her mind, there were key differences in the gaze Barnes leveled on her. A difference was to be expected, certainly. It was not as if they were deeply acquainted, she and Barnes. But rather than watching the whole of her body as a skilled and calculating predator might, he returned to her eyes often enough that it made Ayo wonder if she had her own tell, or if he was searching her expression for something else entirely.

His regard wasn't unsettling or distressing, nor was it beset on intimidation or an artificial insistence to remain neutral. Instead, it was as if he allowed his feelings to be visible just under the surface as they fought for dominance. What she saw was a blend of many things, chief among them: determination and a cautionary distress that had a way of reminding her not of White Wolf when they had last sparred in earnest Wakanda, or their brief interaction in Latveria which was anything but, but of Barnes. Of how they'd clashed against one another in Shuri's Lab when she did not yet realize it was not the Soldier she faced.

Even then, he had searched her eyes for understanding although he did not know her.

And even then, when he had every reason to believe they might have been aligned with HYDRA, he'd fought against her.

…But not with an intent to maim or kill.

Out on the mountain sprawl, he feigned a backpedal that turned into a means to get her close enough that he could grab hold of her nearest wrist. She was quicker, and he managed to catch only the silver armor in his vibranium fingers instead. Sensing the risks that came if his grip grew ever-more secure, Ayo retaliated by driving the shoe of her spear into the tender seam where his shoulder graft connected to the flesh of his torso.

The move was meant only to throw him off, to coax him to let go of her wrist guard as she'd done many times before when she'd sparred with White Wolf and his superhumanly strong arm, but instead she saw something close to alarm flash in Barnes's eyes. It took her a second to realize that the brief flinch in his expression was not simply mottled with pain at the brief but instructive contact, but because for a moment, he thought she intended to disarm him in the literal sense.

She did not know how he knew, or what webs of memories in his mind led him to such a specific foregone conclusion for what Ayo intended to do as they wrestled for dominance, but once the moment passed, she saw relief settle over his features again.

Ayo wanted to be fully-immersed in the steps of the training exercise with him, to not have her mind wandering to missteps she'd made along the way, but oh, how the sight of his relief made her heart ache for words of apology left yet unsaid.

A blur of red, orange, and gold came in from her periphery seconds later as Okoye interjected herself between them in what Ayo took first for another structured round of timed and traded one-on-one combat. Instead, Okoye used a coded hand signal as forewarning to call her Dora into a tight diamond formation when the time was right.

General Okoye took up the forward Gaba position as Yama and Nomble offered distraction by way of a calculated flank that was meant to bait Barnes closer to the treeline to limit his options. With well-honed accuracy befitting Dora of their caliber, they exchanged spears before Nomble moved behind him, preventing Barnes from making a tactical retreat. As he sought to reposition himself and avoid being herded, Ayo struck out at him and spun into the Hunnun Hagu position along his left-hand side, recognizing the ultimate maneuver Okoye was discreetly building to.

In a few more careful transitions and well-placed baits, they would work together to pluck at him, overwhelm him, and eventually force another surrender.

Perhaps the last surrender Okoye would allow.

Barnes might or might not have sensed the upcoming details of her planned attack, but he recognized that he was at-once surrounded and struck forward, countering Okoye's well-placed blows with surgical precision at an increasingly heated pace. Their General did not hold back as she made brutal contact with first his shin and then the inside his exposed forearm with the sharp of her blade, seeking to drive him back into position. When he did not yield ground to her, her elbow struck him under the jaw with a wet crack.

And then, Okoye did something even Ayo did not see coming.

"Желание," Okoye's throaty Russian punctuated the inches between she and the bruised and bloodied man set against her.

Longing.

His reaction was instantaneous. Broad shoulders tensed in alarm and his next two footfalls landed off-kilter as he no-doubt scrambled in confusion to understand the intentions behind Okoye's command.

But that wasn't all her General had planned.

In the middle of the fray, as bodies fought for dominance and drew together in pursuit of an intended take-down and the unspoken burden of finality carried with it, Okoye spun her spear towards not Barnes, but Ayo. Specifically at the injury to her knee that Ayo had hoped she was sufficiently hiding.

Though Ayo was not unaccustomed for terms and alliances to shift during exercises, they were customarily forewarned, especially among the uninitiated. She hadn't seen Okoye's pivot coming, especially in the wake of her General's bold choice to draw blood again before speaking the first of the triggering code words aloud.

Instincts played at the hems of Ayo's mind, and it was though the spaces between the syllables falling from Okoye's lips drew out in slow motion as Ayo reached to try to block the rear of her General's spear from cracking against the side of her left knee.

But instead, the shoe of Okoye's spear ground to a halt before it could strike her.

Ayo's eyes shot up as they traced the diagonal length of the shaft. She expected to find Okoye's judgmental expression on the other end, reminding her to remain vigilant for unexpected shifts in the flow of battle, or even annoyance that Ayo hadn't been open about her injury prior to the exercise. But instead, high in the air at the other end of Okoye's bright silver and gold vibranium spear, stretched and holding the blade between both hands, was Barnes.

Ayo recognized the intensity in those blue eyes immediately, the concern followed by a short nod of acknowledgement he sent her way in a silent language meant only for the two of them.

The resolve in his expression stayed with her even as he visibly struggled to keep from slicing open his palm along the sharp of the blade between his hands. The muscles in his exposed arm tensed, sending a fresh rivulet of blood down it as he worked to leverage his awkward positioning to not pull Okoye's weapon from her, but rather to force it back in her direction.

The unexpected volley of trajectory turned into a flurry of foot movement and a revised grapple of hands, fists, and elbows. But the strikes he waged were neither wild nor desperate. Barnes advanced with intention, delivering a calculated but not overbearing punch with his fist against Okoye's armored hip before using his other hand to push back against first the spear thrust in his direction and then the hands that followed it. With exacting fidelity, if not a little grace, he smoothly shifted his body between the two of them.

…Like it was an extension of the Guard's Dance.

It was not the slow and elongated movements of the sunrise exercises from this morning, but the skilled counter of a Guard protecting their charge. It was also not the movements of someone who had been trained as a Dora (which he was clearly not, contrary to rumors Ayo had been quick to squash), but someone leveraging their own unique fighting style to serve the purpose of the exercise.

And something in his movements, in the clear precision and focus of them, reminded her not of the Soldier, or even heavily of White Wolf. In some way, it was uniquely Barnes.

Or maybe even a buried part of White Wolf he'd not been willing to show them to such a degree?

Okoye must've seen an echo of it too. But rather than call attention to it, she pressed Barnes for reaction and sought to test her Dora as well. In coded words intended for only her Lieutenants' keen ears, and not the man planted in front of her, Okoye called out for Nomble and Yama to assume a wedge formation with her. Without hesitation, they obeyed their General's command, falling into place a step behind her on either side.

At Okoye's next uttered word, the three of them converged not on Barnes, but with a challenge to break through his guard and make contact with Ayo.

Though Barnes was not instructed in the sudden change of exercise, he fell into it seamlessly. No longer did he allow himself to be subjected to being coaxed and herded, instead he focused on using the whole of his body to block whatever feet, fists, or instruments tried to make contact with Ayo behind him, who retracted her spear at her General's command.

Ayo fell into form behind him to aid his cause. Though she could not see his expression from where she stood, she caught glimpses of the tenacity and resolve in his gaze, even as he faced down an insurmountable task of being asked to not only divest one of the Dora of their weapons, but to also keep them from claiming victory by making contact his Guarded and their quarry.

Her General and Lieutenants converged in earnest, and Ayo had to give credit where it was due: neither Yama nor Nomble pulled their punches. They sought to obey their General's command, but Barnes's stubborn insistence on inserting himself between them was not allowing them the opportunity to achieve the objective she'd set out for them.

He showed no interest in pulling their weapons away and claiming a victory for himself. Instead, he used the whole of his body to block their advances, taking hits that were intended for Ayo without a drop of anger or hesitation.

Between movements, the fingers of his right hand trailed behind him, offering private signals to guide Ayo on how she might adjust her positioning in order to further strengthen his guard. The two of them moved in remarkable, if unexpected unison as the Dora pushed towards them seeking to make contact in quick structured bursts which Okoye deemed reasonable to defend against.

And Barnes did so admirably.

He took hits along the way, of course, but he stilled the progress of the advancing Dora, even going so far as to briefly topple Yama when the follow-through of one of her swings left her open to retaliation.

All of them were breathing heavily as Okoye suddenly planted her feet in place and tapped the shoe of her spear into the ground twice, willing the Dora around her to retrain their spears on the sky and calling a halt to exercise.

"You agreed to be provoked," Okoye challenged in English as she faced Barnes, "But though you showed us a glimmer of your teeth, you did not achieve the task I set for you."

Ayo stepped out from behind Barnes and her eyes shot to Okoye. After what they had just witnessed, was she truly considering dismissing him of their efforts, or was this merely another feign to test his reactions?

She hoped it was the latter, but Ayo locked her jaw in place, knowing full-well that she was prepared to plead her case to her General if it came down to it. Even if it would mean Okoye waged words of rebuke towards her.

Ayo was expecting to hear distress in Barne's voice at Okoye's declaration, but instead his tone was even and respectful as he addressed Okoye, "In a manner of speaking," he politely countered, "I did divest you of one of your weapons."

Okoye raised a cynical eyebrow at his claim, but before she could seek clarity on his meaning, he rolled open his fist, revealing a single Dora Cry of Ngai Bead. A removable, nonlethal sonic weapon meant to cause disorientation when used in the right hands.

He shouldn't have been able to divest her of it. The beads were coded so that only its owner could pluck it free.

…Meaning at some point while they were sparring, Barnes must have intentionally baited the fingers of Okoye's other hand close enough for them to register so he could swiftly remove it without her noticing.

While Barnes's expression remained impressively neutral as he faced Okoye, Ayo was certain that had Ayo allowed herself to break eye contact with Okoye, she might've caught a hint of a smile on her Lieutenants' faces.

General Okoye blinked in surprise as she regarded the Dora Kimoyo strand around her wrist critically, no-doubt noting the missing bead. Words appeared to momentarily fail her as Barnes tossed the Kimoyo Bead back to her underhanded, adding in crisp and casual Russian with a measured hint of a Wakanadan accent, "Ловить!"

Catch!

Ayo glanced to Okoye's side and watched as Yama's improper smile only grew in real-time, but Ayo would not be the one to reprimand her Lieutenant, for she was perhaps more than a little proud of this unexpected development as well. How long had he had it in his possession before any of them had known?

Okoye caught the bead easily with one hand and inspected it before casually slipping it back into her strand, "I will grant you this non-traditional win," she acquiesced, "But do not think you can manage it again."

And Barnes faced her, faced the highest ranking member of the Dora Milaje, the Captain of the Agents of Wakanda, and Royal Guard Team Leader, and stated without a drop of hesitation, "Then don't make it so easy for me next time," he widened his stance in preparation for another go before adding respectfully, "General."

At his comment, Ayo was not the least bit surprised to see grins of amusement overtake the faces of not only her Lieutenants, the royal family, and their skinfolk Captain America, but she was pleased to see a genuine smile radiate over Okoye's features as well.

But Okoye didn't cut it off. She let it hang out in the open between them. With private satisfaction, she pursed her lips and offered the man standing before him a bemused but sincere Wakandan salute for his clever victory.

And what Ayo saw in her General's bright eyes was a quiet pride that said while these exercises were far from over, that she finally saw Barnes now too.

[Chapter Art, by Jose Rod Mota]

[ID: A digital illustration by Jose Rod Mota showing a thigh-up view of Okoye standing smiling with one hand gripped around the shaft of her spear, while the other hangs to her side. Slightly out of focus behind her are two other members of the Dora Milaje, who are offering a two-handed Wakandan salute. End ID]

Jose Rod Mota is an immensely talented artist who created this incredible illustration of Okoye and two members of the Dora Milaje. I love the vibrancy of her expression, and all the details of her regalia! It's so vibrant and well-composed from end-to-end!

Please check out this chapter on Archive of Our Own to see the art and link to his social media pages to see more of his art!

Thanks again to him for allowing me to share his beautiful work as part of this story!

Author's Remarks:

* - Ndikulungele - Wakandan Translation: I'm ready.

* - Phambili! - Wakandan Translation: Forward!

* - Ibhondi Yomgcini - Wakandan Translation: Bodyguard's Bond

Well that wasn't stressful at all, right…?

What do you think of Okoye's methods and Barnes's clever play?

I hope this week has treated you well and that you enjoyed this action-packed chapter!

Thank you again for your beautiful comments, questions, and kind words. They are welcome company as I continue to carve out time to work on this immense story and the continued journey we have ahead of us…

If you're reading this on FFNet, I'd love to hear from you to know that you find it valuable that I'm continuing to cross-post this story in this location.