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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

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Great Thing

Part 1 Part 2

Part 3: Not Your Hero

“You a liar, T.” Erik swept casually through the small and crowded club toward the exit. He’d shown for one purpose and one purpose only. He wanted to support a nineteen year old boy from the outreach center’s young adult program in his rap dream. He was actually good and booked the gig on his own which had to be rewarded.

“I did not lie,” T'Challa shot, a step behind. Erik had ignored him through the entire performance and now, no matter how fast he walked, T'Challa remained on his heels, even despite the crowd. “What you witnessed was not habit, but spur of the-Why am I exp- I don’t owe you an explanation of my private affairs!”

“You don’t owe me a thing,” Erik tossed without looking back, “But if you’ll lie about bullshit that damn stupid? You’ll lie about real shit.”

T'Challa followed closely, stress etched deeply into his brow as he attempted to understand Erik’s frustration over something so frivolous. "That's hardly-"

“Ain’t nobody business what you do behind closed doors,” Erik quipped spinning to look his cousin in the eye. “Like father like son, right?” With that, he left the club, T'Challa no longer behind him.

Erik cruised the city, music blasting in his Buggatti Veyron, fully aware of the Dora tailing him though she stayed a distance away so not to be spotted. Since his resurrection in Wakanda, a service he never requested, he’d been crowded by a team of doctors, therapists, Dora, and T'Challa. More shit he didn't ask for. He felt caged and heavily judged. Every move was scrutinized. They all watched him from the outside like they were afraid he'd attempt to retake the throne and Wakanda. The hyper hyper-awareness made him want to rebel out of pure spite although he was past wanting the throne. He didn't need the throne especially when he knew he was being lied to and them muhfuckas were all involved.

“T'Challa the nigga they need to be watching,” he spoke aloud figuring the car was bugged. “The spoiled ass king who can do no fuckin wrong. He’s as reckless as me, yet they praise him because he was born into a position of power. That nigga ain't earn shit, but was born with allegiance. That nigga ought to check his privilege and these bald peons better check their king.” The number on the speedometer increased as he flew down the road, knowing every dip and curve like the skin of his own hands. “Me? I was born from struggle. Been at odds with the world all my life. Everything I got, I got on my own and that lying ass nigga? Ain't no better than me or any hood nigga I came up with. You can tell your king I said it. If he ain’t already listening.”

Erik kept his eyes on the road, driving faster. He sped past the Camburger getting a random flashback. He suddenly knew where to go. His current state was a far cry from his past, but Gia was one real nigga who had always been there.

The Past

Camburger was calling and Erik stood in line, hands in the pockets of his black Balr hoodie, waiting to cop a fat one. He shifted his feet looking down at his all black ACW*’s. They matched the all black theme of his fit with the under armour black long johns and the black basketball shorts. The woman in front of him stepped away and he stepped up to the counter to put in his order. “I'll take the beast burger.. and the camburger combo.. a Sprite.. yeah.. Thank you.” The woman smiled and he nodded.

“That him?” A voice aggressively whispered from a table to the right putting Erik on high alert as he angled his ear to listen around him. He didn't have to look to recognize the voice of the female that dude was with. They were making a scene.

“Stop, I don't know him,” she pleaded. “I don't know him! Von!” Sounded like Keisha, which meant her man probably found out they were fuckin and had a lot to say about it.

Erik claimed his order and checked the bag, grabbing hot sauce as Von approached. Neither of them spoke initially and Erik put his straw in his drink. What the fuck was Erik gonna say? He refused to fight over a bitch and that's what the nigga wanted. He turned on his heel to walk away when Von piped up.

“Pussy nigga,” he spit. “You runnin like a BITCH,” he yelled stepping back as Keisha stepped in between, holding him back and apologizing to Erik on his behalf. “Fuck that. I don't give a fuck who he is, I'll beat any nigga's ass in here if they gotta problem. Starting with this hoe.”

Erik stared blankly at the duo picking up his drink and turning on his heel to leave peacefully.

“I’m a slice that ass up, on crip,” Von snapped with wide eyes.

“That ain't you, bruh.” Erik specifically recalled Keisha saying the nigga was from Tennessee. He didn't look like he had hands, but Erik knew he probably had guns. “You ain't from round here, yeet dat ass with all that shit.”

“Von, let's go! Please, let's just go.. let's- please,” Keisha cried yanking on his arm after pulling herself up.

“Listen to your girl,” Erik said with a sip of his Sprite as he stepped toward the exit.

“Killmonger my ass. I'm a light ya block up, you better watch ya back nigga,” Von yelled. Erik stopped short at the threat, turning back. You could hear a pin drop at that moment, as the people around froze. “Yo ass shook,” Von sneered in Erik's face once he walked up. “Yeah nigga.. I'm a-”

Pop.

He looked down at the blood seeping from his white tee and back up at Erik's unapologetic eyes watching the life leave his as he fell to the ground, panicked with no one moving a muscle to help.

Erik backed out the door with a nod to the woman behind the counter. As the door closed behind him, he heard another pop. He glanced back on his way to his black NSX to see Keisha next to a squirming Von, immobile, her head fucked up.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he turned the car on and it came to life. I hustle, I flex, the world is mine. So please believe, allow the greaze

These niggas disease, don't speak we squeeze (squeeze). I make the devil go weak the knees. You hate, you're lame, your loss.

---

Gia opened the door with no words letting Erik into her home. He went directly to her refrigerator pulling out plastic containers of food to make himself a plate. She sat a shot of Henny on the table in front of him and left him, heading sleepily to her bedroom while he gathered his thoughts.

When he was in a better state, he walked back to find her in bed.

“You you always so good to me,” he asked posted against the door frame. For years, she'd consistently fucked with him no matter what bullshit he was on, no questions asked. Going back to Camburger. She knew the old Killmonger as well as the new and she never made him feel like he was crazy.

“You good to me.. Why wouldn't I be good to you?”

“You remember that night at Camburger?”

“Damn, when I used to work there. Why you thinking about that?” She sat up fixing her bonnet. Slowly he made his way to her bedside sitting in the empty space. Looking at her concerned face, he could only think of how she'd shot that girl in front of everyone on command. Years later and still ain't nobody snitched or said shit about either death. “Erik, you know you got shooters out here. You good?”

“See, that's what I mean. You stay ready.”

“Who I gotta fuck up,” she stared blankly causing him to smile and gently palm the top of her bonnet.

“No one.. Go to sleep.” He dropped a stack on the kitchen table and made his way out back to his car. Smiling, he turned it on and rolled off.

---

T'challa’s chest heaved in the dim light of the basement. His mind swirled with fearful thoughts. He was afraid of himself and what he knew he might do. He pleaded with his heart to stop pounding and the ache hammering in her temples to cease. He’d sweat through his clothing. It clung to his salty, dark and smooth skin. Sweat from his forehead, from his brow, down his neck.

“Baba,” he pleaded to the light source above, dizziness setting in. He was seeing doubles. It felt like he was dying but he knew better than that. “Help me stop it, baba,” he cried. His arms were cuffed and tied behind him. On top of that he was chained and tethered inside of a metal cage. “Ancestors.. please,” he sighed fatigued, “I beg of thee. Purge me of this curse. Guide me! If not, then reinforce these bars so that I must stay here..”

Even as he was speaking his request, he felt his mind slipping. His sanity was beginning to flee him. “Nalani,” he whispered in mourning, “I am truly sorry.”

–

The moon, fully round and white rose high in the jet black sky and Nalani drove on the highway getting as far as she could away from her beloved fiance with much regret and pain in her gut. She wanted nothing more than to hold T'Challa through his ordeal and soothe him, letting him know that she still loved him no matter what happened. She knew his heart and he was a gentle man, one of the sweetest she’d ever known. She’d move mountains for him. However, the plan they’d come up with together was for her to tie him up, lock him up, then get as far away from him as she possibly could without him knowing where she was going. She had to follow the plan if she wanted to survive.

“Nalani.. Come, I must tell you something.. very important,” he’d said soberly when they’d gotten serious as a couple. They were in his home and he didn’t seem to know where to start, starting and stopping before looking her dead on. He exhaled. “I have.. a condition,” he said carefully. Nalani waited before shaking her head impatiently. He exhaled again. “When I am in love, which is rare… a certain frenzy will come over me. It is an animalistic..,” he searched for the right word, “obsession.” Nalani crossed one thigh over the other, the high split of her dress revealing smooth dark skin. He looked away as she grabbed his hand to play with his long fingers. “I don’t think you are getting the seriousness of this matter,” he muttered pulling his hand away when she attempted to kiss his pinky ring.

“T'Challa, I’ve been known to be passionate. You’ll soon discover we have that in common,” Nalani smiled moving to sit in his lap. He stood before she could.

“Nalani, on the full moon, I will transform into a creature of extreme animal lust. You will have to restrain me and get away, as far as you possibly can for I will hunt you and no one but you until the sun comes up.”

“And if you catch me,” Nalani teased. He was silent and his serious expression caused her smirk to falter.

“In the interest of full disclosure, those women are not on this earth today. Not in this plane. I understand if you wish to leave me. You would not be the first and you would be safe.” The sad note of his voice touched Nalani’s heart and she walked over to hear man, hugging him near to her.

“I fear.. that my lust for you is too great,” he sighed. “One of these full moons I will transform.” He handed her a gun with silver bullets. “I trust you to do all you can to escape.”

The gun laid in the console of the car. She prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. A tear fell that she wiped away with the back of her hand.

Okoye snatched her phone out of T'Challa's hand as he was reading, his brows knitted in hopeless confusion. He didn't know what to say or think, his face frozen.

"It's called wakandan fanfiction, brother, and you.. are the king of Wakanda so there will be stories of you. Get used to it," Shuri said through T'Challa's phone.

"Cannot the stories be true or at the very least believable? I fear that my lust for you is too great," he mocked, offense in his tone. Shuri smiled from her lab in Wakanda, finding it hilarious.

"Okay I called you to discuss the sneaker advancements. I snuck them in," she said proud of her pun. "I've added jets. You should be able to remain in the air went you jump."

"When will I utilize this?" He inspected the shoes on his feet. They looked and felt the exact same.

"Do you want to know how to work them or not?"

"Tell me."

Under her instruction he clicked his heels and the jets appeared, lifting him from the ground and causing him to fall on his face. He rushed himself upright ignoring Okoye's snort and Shuri's fit of giggles.

"I'm sorry brother," Shuri cried in laughter, "It had to be done." She watched him dust himself off to maintain his heir of dignity. "By the way... I heard you and N'Jadaka had a falling out."

"Not so much of that as I didn't divulge the full truth about something small, now he's upset with me."

"Was it about the lewd footage of you and that woman in Erik's house? I couldn't watch it without.. throwing up on my equipment so I deleted it.. but boy do your kinks run deep. Perhaps Erik had a point somewhere in his car babble."

T'Challa lifted his head defensively and Okoye looked away. He quickly ended the call with Shuri and took a step away, off to himself.

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