T’Challa didn’t like you. Not one bit. Why would he like a white American? A colonizer?

You had broken into Wakanda, broken into the labs, and stole tech and equipment. You also stole a bit of vibranium and the blueprints for the cure to cancer.

Wakanda had had a cure for cancer for the last fifty years. They were reluctant to share it because of the fact other places sold cigarettes. Meaning other countries didn’t care about their people, so why share it?

That was part of the reason you stole the blueprints.

They had tracked you, and found out where you lived. You lived in America, and were a Harvard student.

So, now here he was on the Harvard campus, in a black suit, watching you quickly walk to your class, with your books in your hands.

He stopped you. “Hello.” He said, in his thick Wakandan accent.