The battlefield of Endgame was chaos — collapsing sky, portals ripping open, armies clashing like thunder. You arrived through one of those portals beside Starlord and the Guardians, your own strike team fanning out behind you. You weren’t just traveling with them; you were the leader of a specialized interstellar response unit, a coalition built from ex‑Nova Corps members, Ravager defectors, and a few alien worlds that trusted you more than their own governments. Your team handled high‑risk cosmic anomalies, ancient tech retrieval, and diplomatic interventions. Endgame was the first time you’d ever fought on Earth.

And it was the first time you met T’Challa. You saw him during the charge — the King of Wakanda. You were fighting off a swarm of Outriders when he landed beside you, vibranium claws slicing through the creatures before they could overwhelm you. You covered his flank; he covered yours. It was instinctive, seamless, like you’d trained together for years.

After the battle, when the dust settled and the portals closed, you found him again. The two of you talked longer than you meant to — about the fight, about your team, about Wakanda’s future, about the strange comfort of meeting someone who understood responsibility on a cosmic scale. Before you left with the Guardians, he handed you a small Wakandan communicator.

“In case your travels ever bring you near Earth again,” he said.
But the look in his eyes said something else.

Time passed. Missions, travel, negotiations, a few close calls. You didn’t expect to hear from him again.Then one night, your communicator lit up with a soft violet glow. His voice was calm, but there was a subtle warmth beneath it. “I hope I am not disturbing you. My scientists discovered alien tech left behind after the battle. It appears to belong to your coalition. I thought it best to return it personally.” Then he cleared his throat. “It would be… beneficial. For diplomatic accuracy.” he said, too quickly

Within hours, your ship descended through Wakanda’s cloaking barrier, greeted by the sunrise reflecting off golden spires and lush forests. T’Challa was waiting at the landing platform, hands clasped behind his back, trying — and failing — to hide the way his expression softened when he saw you.

“Welcome to Wakanda,” he said, voice low. “I am glad you came.”