miette

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

I think I've posted four times on that last IC page. Feel like I'm spamming if I do anymore right now. Was hoping to see this pick up again but I have to say its not looking promising going by the volume of activity in IC and OOC the past few weeks. Unless people are sitting on posts...?

Where is everyone at with this?

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Michigan

B’Tumba wringed his blistered wrist, looking across the room at the suited Shuri; she was pouring over his blueprints and documents from AIM. She had kept him tied to his radiator for about four hours whilst questioning him, growing frustrated and beating him when he couldn’t answer her questions. AIM had kept him in the dark about a lot of their plans; that was the nature of working for them. You’d be given resources that you couldn’t even dream to work with under any other company, a task and a time limit. AIM had trusted in him to be able to undertake every project they had given him. His time growing up in Wakanda and being close to T’Challa had afforded him great freedoms in what studies he wanted to progress, he’d always been beside T’Challa in his science and engineering classes, learning from the best and in turn becoming the best that the exceptionally technologically advanced country had to offer.

The projects had come thick and fast, smaller time scales, more secretive tasks, on a no questions asked basis. He knew he wasn’t the best, He felt guilty for needing T’Challa, perhaps not even guilty, weak. He had come here because he wanted to step out from underneath T’Challa’s shadow and have his own platform of accomplishments. AIM had been secretly reaching out to some of the smartest in Wakanda through their connections within the compound. When M’Baku had reached out to him and shown him the promise that America held, and showed him how AIM needed him more than ever, he could not help be drawn in. Finally to be his own person, only to fail in his attempts and need the guidance of his friend.

It hadn’t taken much to convince T’Challa, working alongside M’Baku, the Black Panther’s trusted advisor, in planting seeds of doubt about his place in the monarchy of Wakanda. That, ‘perhaps he was meant for so much more, that he could make a greater difference elsewhere’. T’Challa’s superior intelligence was an asset to AIM, they had turned around their first project in but a few days, and they knew he was destined for better things. B’Tumba had always been jealous under the prince’s shadow, but it felt a familiar comfort to have him back. He just had to continue to prove himself, making sure AIM knew he was indispensible to T’Challa in his work, he had seen how easily they discarded workers that displeased them or didn’t live up to their high expectations.

He feared perhaps that was what had happened to his old friend. As much as he could find out was that an intruder had broken into the labs to steal information on what they were working on. They had succeeded. Initiating a self destruct sequence that ultimately rendered the last few months work into ash. He presumed AIM would have come after him in desperation, but he took comfort that they hadn’t, which gave him hope that T’Challa was still alive. He had to be. There was no way they would abandon their operations after this. Having been privy to some information as to where they were going to be using the sonic missile and knew that they were pushing production because they wanted to use it imminently, information he hadn’t dared to share with T’Challa.

B’Tumba hadn’t told Shuri about M’Baku’s involvement, he had already been at the mercy of her temper, sure that his cheek bone was fractured and blood that he could only assume was from his split brow had pooled and dried under his chin. He had decided to avoid any personal detail with how he’d worked with the royal family’s most trusted advisor in taking her brother away from his responsibility, as much as he felt he owed the family, he also had some self preservation left.

This preservation would only be short lived, B’Tumba knew he wouldn’t have long left, AIM didn’t leave loose ends. Now that they had T’Challa and the sonic missile was already in production he could see no compelling reason from their end why a liability with knowledge of the company should be kept alive. He had spent all this time worrying for his friends’ safety but had failed to realise, bringing T’Challa to America had signed his own death order.

“You’re going to need to show me how to access these secure files.”

Exasperated B’Tumba snapped; “What files Shuri? I don’t have that kind of clearance, and even if I did they have all sorts of security trigger alarms, they would know that it’s me, you’re essentially handing me to them on a plate.”

“The idea of this is to find my brother, who, if I understood the letters between you both, you convinced to come here in the first place. So you put him in this position, endangering his life. I’m the one with the power here so given the choice of making you pay for what you’ve done and getting my brother back, I’m somewhat leaning in my brothers favour.”

-

Wakanda.

S‘yan stood at the end of the darkened jail’s corridor, his palm against the steel door holding three members of the inner compound staff.

M’Baku broke the silence. “Your grace, we couldn’t have them attempting to leave the compound, the ones working in the inner compound know of the Black Panther’s death and T’Challa’s defecting. It’s too much of a risk, they were carrying messages to their families of the news when under sworn oath, you know the penalties for this.”

“As much as our king valued your expertise in security and matters of war M’Baku, your predisposition to make hasty violent retaliation disturbs me. These people have done nothing wrong-“

“With respect, they made a vow of service which they broke by attempting to leave, which we know is unacceptable at this so desperate time, let my men deal with this. They are not under the palaces law, as members of the White Gorilla, their actions won’t lay in your hands, I am merely upholding my promise to keep everyone in here safe and prevent panic outside these walls.”

“I cannot allow this to happen under my ward. But I also realise setting them free is a danger to us, I thank you for alerting me to this, we will have to keep them here until I receive word from Shuri about her brother's return, keep these workers well fed and comfortable, M’Baku, I trust you can manage this?” S’yan turned, swinging his leopard cape across his shoulders as he strode away into the darkness of the corridor.

Baring his teeth, M’Baku couldn’t stifle the frustrated roar that came from within. On too many occasions these past years he has had to deal with the delicate ways in which these so called leaders had chosen to rule. If he was going to continue holding the upper hand in taking the compound from the inside, the last thing he needed was the citizens being warned or causing an uprising when he had a much bigger hand to play. He had to take this into his own hands.

Unsheathing his scythe, he unbolted the reinforced door.

Maximum Comics: Dawn of Justice | REBRANDING - PLEASE STAY TUNED

Using Holmesian deduction I'm going to say that was in reference to mistakenly thinking Henry posting in the OOC thread was an IC post.

@Morden Man

As above, gentlemen. @Sloth@Dblade26

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Gasp! New post in MC Dawn of Justice!....oh.....

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T’ Challa had spent the last seven hours trying to replicate the plans that had been lost in the explosion. His eyes were straining in the dimly lit room, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. The glossy exterior of AIM had been pulled away and the real beast exposed, they had ordered him to develop more weapons for them. He knew that AIM had managed to put his non lethal sonic missile into production before the explosion, but he could not let that be, it was unfinished and too powerful. He had to keep working to show them there could be an alternative before that missile saw the field. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to rest until then.

He had no idea of where he was being held; all he knew was there was no natural light, it was deafeningly quiet even with an armed guard by his workstation. He wondered how long they would keep him in these conditions, or perhaps, just how long they would keep him alive. They didn’t seem like the kind of people to show mercy once they have what they want. From the whispers he’d heard about the fate of his predecessor, he couldn’t say with much confidence that they valued a human much past what service they could provide; an attitude T’Challa had pitied the Americans for upon his arrival.

T’Challa stood, allowing his eyes to glaze over the blueprints in front of him wondering how long he would be willing to develop the weaponry they wanted. Rather, whether he would weigh up the preservation of his life in these conditions against those innocent people he was aiding to harm. Turning back to his calculations he pushed the dark thought to the back of his mind. If he could keep working long enough to prove he was trustworthy perhaps he would be afforded more freedoms, allowing a window to escape.

AIM was well aware that T’Challa was a prodigy in his field, and having gone to great lengths to recruit him, expected fast results. However working under in such a tight timescale he couldn’t do it all on his own. He had requested his friend B’Tumba to assist him but the icy response confirmed fears for his friends’ safety. Using the same excuse as to why his predecessor hadn’t ever returned to work the armed guard grunted; “He’s been moved to a different department, promotion of sorts”.

Between frantic calculations, worry for his friend and the guilt that weighed on him, his thoughts drifted back to thinking about his home. He knew his father could help. The Black Panther wouldn’t see danger come to Africa and threaten his people. If only he could find some way to warn them.

-

Shuri was crouched in the dark alleyway. The sights and sounds of this neighbourhood were completely foreign to her, all taken in her stride. However the cocktail of offensive smells clouded her heightened senses. The rain had lifted the burnt rubber scent from the pavement, and trails of cigarette smoke thickened the stench. Near where she was hidden, greasy polystyrene containers littered the alley where festering rotten food was being scavenged by rats. The life these people lead was chaos. Living piled on top of each other in cramped apartments, televisions, shouting, babies crying, how could they stand it? Shuri silently scaled the metal fire escaped that encased the outside of the building, her expert agility made reaching the eight floor light work. Ducking underneath the windowsills she scanned each apartment on that level. Being suddenly immersed into a foreign environment the Wakandan accent was easy to recognise. He was clearly in a panicked state on the phone, pacing back and forth in the confined space, she could hear his agitated voice shaking a little as the conversation drifted through the open window.

“Don’t hang up on me again; I know you know something else has happened here. I left him working there and three separate people saw him make it out the building, and now I can’t get hold of him.”

The figure stood facing the fridge head bowed, his arm above him supporting his weight. Shuri had stealthily made her way through the window into the darkened bedroom and slid with her back against the wall up to the doorframe listening to them speak.

“It would be better for you to stop asking questions now. You need to do your job like everyone else, anyone that had tried to dig deeper gets a mysterious promotion and isn’t heard from again. Do yourself a favour and leave it be.”

“I can’t do that, he is my friend, I was responsible for him being here and I know they are covering something up.....hello? Cass? You there?”

The man hung up the phone with a heavy sigh and paused as he went to open the fridge. Shuri took her moment launching from the darkness of the room. Thrusting her weight forward as he bent to check the contents of the fridge, his head slammed into the metal trays sending the few items crashing over his body. Shuri stood waiting for him to leap up to defend himself, her head was never clearer than when adrenaline was coursing through her veins. Surprised there was no immediate counter attack she looked down to find the man passed out; maybe she’d underestimated her strength.

He awoke to find himself tied to the radiator with Shuri stood opposite him, the black outfit making her barely distinguishable from the shadows.

“B’Tumba, thankfully for you it’s been a while since you and I crossed paths. Now, where is my brother?”

“Shuri? Is that you Shuri? Shit, I thought AIM had sent someone to kill me, you have no idea what a relief it is to hear a familiar voice, although I have to say I wasn’t that fond of your ‘hello’.”

“I wouldn’t find too much comfort in it, this could be the last voice you hear, don’t make any mistake that I won’t have any reservations and save AIM some work if you don’t tell me where my brother is.”

“Look, Shuri, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t know where your brother is, there was an explosion at our lab, I know he got out but no one has seen or heard from him since, I think he’s could be in real trouble. You know I love your brother like he was my own blood, I’ll do all I can to help find him don’t want anything to happen to him and I know what AIM are capable of. I’d be responsible, I was the one who recommended him to work with me on the research, I brought him into this mess. I swear, I’ll do everything I can”

“Yes, you are going to do everything you can, you owe this family, our country!”

Shuri slammed the back of her fist across his face.

“Starting now, you’re going to tell me everything you know about this, your bosses, where he might be, who I need to find, or kill, to get him back. And don’t think that excludes you.”

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The last thing T’Challa had remembered before the explosion was setting himself up in the meeting room, he could hear the hydraulics of the machines below whirring back and forth and the crackling of the soldering. In some strange manner it had lulled him to sleep, there was perhaps some comfort to be gained from knowing his work was in motion. The agents who had employed him had kept tightening the deadline, which frequently had T’Challa sleeping in the meeting room, with his crumpled jacket serving as a pillow. His attempts at rest only resulted in a few hours of broken sleep most nights. However this time he had stirred to the voice of a woman in his moments between awake and sleep, a comforted smile wrapped around his face. This dreamlike fantasy was short lived as her sentence repeated. It was a computerised message from the security system.

“Self-destruct sequence activated.”

T’Challa’s elbow slipped off of the arm rest, jarring him awake.

“Self-destruct sequence activated”

“No! No, no, NO.” His voice, still broken from sleep, startled the few line workers running past the room.

“Clear the building, NOW! GET OUT!” their frantic shouts being drowned out by the emergency siren kicking in.

“Self-destruct sequence activated. 60 seconds until Self-destruct” Red light spun round the factory walls.

“Shit. This is happening.”

T’Challa grabbed the plans sprawled in front of him on the table, and sprinted with them under his arm past the glass doors. He could see from the mezzanine level that AIM’s security officers were already outside, pulling people out of the exits as they left. They were bellowing orders and directing any strays into the back of the few military jeeps left on site. Break lights dimmed, they had decided it was too late; they couldn’t risk waiting any longer. Watching the vehicles cannon out of the complex T’Challa cursed through his teeth and launched down the last few steps and out of the door. He had made it to the entrance of the unit with 12 seconds remaining, the jeeps were gone.

He remembered nothing past that. T’Challa had awoken in a fresh hell and it was all too clear that there would be no chance of escape, these people would use him for all his worth.

-

Shuri sat hunched over in the back of the air carrier with her knees balancing the files she was sifting through. Details of the workings T’Challa’s old friend had been developing with AIM. She was well briefed on the organisation and the activity that seemed to have flared up over the last few months. She was here to get her brother back. However things were left between him and their father he would want to know that he had passed. But he had to be convinced of his duty to come home to Wakanda. Where others had failed Shuri needed to show him what a desperate state his nation would be in without him and the danger his family could face at the hands of potential rebels. As much as she didn’t believe he was ready for the responsibilities to be a ruler, she had to show her family and nation that she had tried. In truth, she wasn’t here to show her brother how to be the Black Panther, she knew that retrieving her brother would be important for Wakanda's rule but her mission would prove that only she had earned the right to wear the mask and hold the mantle permanently.

Her gaze drifted for a moment her thoughts returning to her family in the compound. She had never seen so much security at the gates of her home. She had known when met at the gates that she was too late, although her father’s advisor had said nothing, she could feel it in the air. A quivering almost, all but confirmed by the palpable tension as they met her uncle in the training courtyard.

“Shuri, I...you’re”

“I don’t want you to say it, please, just take me to his quarters. I failed him even in his final hours, I need to be at his bedside with my mother.”

“Child we have to be careful. The news mustn’t reach the outside yet, they cannot know the king has fallen without an heir.”

The words had stung. Even after her father’s death she could still not be recognised as worthy blood.

“M’Baku has increased our security tenfold but I am not familiar with these faces, there are eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Uncle, these men are marked with the White Gorilla cult tattoos. How are they even allowed inside the walls?”

“M’Baku bears the same mark Shuri, and he has been beside both me and the king for over twenty years. When he defected from his cult to save your father in action he retained a great following among his peoples. As long as it’s under M’Baku’s command we have no reason to doubt that they would be any less dedicated to safeguarding those in this compound. We merely need to guard our words.”

“Just take me to my father. Let me see T'Chaka one last time.”

Shuri had to focus her eyes on the files in front of her, it had been hard enough to see the great Black Panther T’Chaka lay lifeless in front of her; she couldn’t relive it through her memories every few minutes. Perhaps it was her way of avoiding the guilt she felt. Either way, she had to get her head in gear for what was at hand. Shuri looked over the return addresses on the letters. She knew just who she’d be visiting first when she reached America, and she wouldn’t be leaving until she’d drawn out every last word, by any means necessary.

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<Snipped quote by miette>

@Morden Man

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Dammit @Gowi
Wasted Bryan Cranston mic drop.

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Good points made by all.
I just wanted the 1000th post in here.

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March 22nd
Wakanda

Launching one foot in front of another Shuri winced in face of the sun beating on her brow. With nothing but rolling sand dunes for miles around, she knew she had to keep her mindset intact, she couldn’t give up, and she’d wasted so much time already. A fine dust was kicking up as she ploughed her feet through the sand. The sweat dripping down her face was evaporating in the baking heat. Lungs parched, Shuri ignored the burning of her feet, today more than any other, she could not have limitations. Her brain was screaming at her to stop, right now, to drop to the floor, but she could be too late already. She needed to see her father, needed to know she could fulfil her duties and serve her family and country, to become the Black Panther when her country had needed it most.

It had taken a full day of goading herself to finally realise her attitude was wrong, she couldn’t waste potentially the last opportunity she had to see her father. Knowing that her uncle was the greatest healer in the country, she knew that there can’t have been much time left for him to have visited her in such fervour. Time wasted. Shuri could not shake that those wasted moments would come to haunt her. She did not want her efforts to attain the mantle clouded by guilt, or at least that’s why she told herself she had to go. Clouding how she really felt helped push her forward, if she lost her nerve now, she would become too emotional and break. If she lost her father she had to know she could carry on, and she had to carry on for the right reasons, service fuelled by resentment would never make her a great warrior.

Run, climb or crawl. She would make it to her father’s bedside.

-

The Queen had spent the last day between T’Chaka’s bedside and the widow, praying her daughter would return. T’Chaka could barely speak, the fever had weakened him, it frightened her to see him like this, so rapidly deteriorating, so quickly losing her safety, her comfort, her strength, all personified in her husband.

M’Baku had brought in countless warriors into the palace compound since the king had taken ill, especially now her son was gone the throne was in danger. A towering colossus of a man had stood beside her husband for many years, a close advisor to T’Chaka providing military support. The king had gained M’Baku in action when fighting against the White Gorilla cult over twenty years ago, he’d defected from his people to save the King and continued to be a loyal asset ever since. If there were anyone to put faith in securing the compound for the family, it would be him.

Queen Ramonda traced her hands over the Black Panther mask. Wakanda needed a signal of strength, it had been a devastation to the people’s confidence when T’Challa had left, if they found out the king could no longer fulfil his vows to protect them, the turmoil that would ensue could damage the future of this kingdom T’Chaka had worked tirelessly to safeguard. The Wakandan people would know the country’s sanctuary would be challenged.

-

M’Baku paced along the compounds fortified walls. His loyal warriors had flocked to the palace as he had commanded. They were secure from every angle for miles around, the impenetrable force of the men and women that stood unmoving in their dedication to him had comforted the Queen and the council members inside. Although news of the Black Panthers failing health hadn’t reached the people it wouldn’t be too long before it happened panic would set in, some would come to demand answers, other to demand the throne. Years of T’Chaka’s compassionate attitude towards the people had been something he’d been working to change for a long time. A lenient, charitable course of ruling can only have given the people an idea of the kings Achilles heel. T’Chaka had shown weakness in his indulgent treatment of his subjects.

As safe as the show of security made the ones inside, the real danger for Wakanda lay within these walls, what was coming would be the coupe de grace for the family that had put the future of the Black Panther rule at risk.

***

America
Location Unknown

The dark military hanger was lit only by one office, a harsh light poured over layers of technical plans scattered over the tables. T’Challa casting a slender shadow over his work.

His assistant leant around the doorway to find T’Challa cursing, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression.

“Uh, boss I’m heading out. Are you sure you don’t need me to drop you home, you look like you could use a break”

B’Tumba had been a long time friend of T’Challa, he had been the one who had helped him realise that AIM could do some good with the right technology behind them. B’Tumba had moved from Wakanda a year ago to progress findings with AIM, and since T’Challa had arrived, been a solemn reminder of why they had to continue. They had been in the military together back in their country; during an uprising they had both been a few meters away from the explosion that had killed B’Tumba’s family. T’Challa couldn’t forget the screams, he wouldn’t let himself, not until he could develop a solution to the seemingly unending stream of wars.

“Thank you B’Tumba, you can go, rest. I’ll need your help in the morning. Our targeting results are way off and I’m going to need you to set up a ballistics test first thing.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be another relaxing day for me then. I’ll bring coffee, although by the looks of you it doesn’t look like that that’s
going to save you. Take it easy, man.”

Three nights, T’Challa had not slept in three nights. The field tests had failed. The sonic missile hadn’t been successful, he knew time was growing short and he couldn’t fail his employer, this is everything he’d been working for.

He’d heard whisperings of what had happened to his predecessor upon his failings. But he knew he was smarter, he had brought his findings from his studying in Wakanda. AIM had sought him out, they had recognised that for them to become a technologically superior nation like Wakanda they would have to turn to the ones keeping it afloat, continually improving the nation to keep it as the strongest. And no one had been working as tirelessly in the field as T’Challa. Someone had finally recognised him for his talents; rather than try to limit his accomplishments in his research.

AIM had commissioned him to make a non lethal sonic missile, to enable them to immobilise a large number of people. T’Challa had accepted the task believing he could to provide a way to prevent more needless casualties. He’d seen enough bloodshed in his time with the military in Wakanda. Being a symbol of security didn’t have to come from accomplishments in fighting and war. He knew he could never be the Black Panther. The Black Panther had become feared by other nations, and to some a challenge to defeat. If the mantle still existed it would only continue to bear opposition. He had to prove his country didn’t need a masked crusader to protect them, and until then he wouldn’t be a part of it.