Felicia Hardy pulled her borrowed jacket tighter around her shoulders as she and Rogue blended into the flow of pedestrians. Both were in normal clothes now, jeans, hoodies, and sunglasses that did well-enough to hide who they were and how they got here. Budapest was suddenly swarmed with police. It didn't take long to fit two and two, and why Spidey left in such a hurry.
Rogue tugged her hood lower. "We need to get a plane ticket to New York pronto."
Felicia scoffed. "Yeah, because two women in sunglasses trying to buy tickets with no IDs isn't suspicious at all."
"Got a better idea, princess?"
Felicia sighed, scanning the street as neon reflections slid across puddles. "Maybe. I've got some fake passports stashed in Paris. I also have a twin sister that can help us out, but…yeah, it'll have to happen in Paris. She's not the criminal type, or at least, I'm not trying to get her involved." She was talking about her Earth 65 counterpart. Darker-skinned, once jailed, and now trying to repent. She didn't want her twin to be involved in crime because of her. "I can get us out of here though, but it means we have to take a bus — or hitch a ride. No flying, no border alerts. It'll take…how far is Paris from here?"
"Twenty hours, tops," Rogue answered, albeit with a raised brow. "Also, fake passports? Who the hell are you really?"
Felicia smirked. "A woman who plans ahead."
They turned a corner and passed a small electronics shop. Dozens of TV screens glowed in the window, showing flickering news broadcasts in different languages. Most played static, the occasional emergency bulletin, or clips of the strange "falling star" incidents that had started around the world.
Then the static cleared.
An eight-legged black spider symbol pulsed across the screens.
Felicia stopped cold. "You've got to be kidding me."
Rogue tilted her head. "Guess he's still alive."
Felicia crossed her arms. "Well, that's nice. Could've used a text, though. Where the hell is he?"
The image flickered again. The broadcast changed; grainy security footage, two still frames: one of Peggy Carter, lifeless on the floor, and another of Harry Osborn being wheeled away under a white sheet.
Felicia's smirk faded. "Right. That." It was all over the news and already spread to every living citizen. People falling and dying—specifically rich people.
Rogue got to the point. "What's our next move then? We have a deal."
Spider-Man's symbol returned to the screens. A line of text scrolled across the bottom, simple and direct:
GO TO PARIS. TRUST FELICIA'S PLAN. TRANSPORT INBOUND. – S
Rogue blinked. "Transport?"
A loud honk broke the moment. They turned and expressed…different reactions.
Parked right behind them was a massive, beat-up RV. The thing looked like it had survived three world wars and a hurricane, painted in fading shades of green and white. The word Rustbucket was spray-painted across the front like some sort of joke.
Felicia stared at it, jaw slack. "You've got to be kidding me."
Rogue grinned and walked straight toward it. "This is great."
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Before Felicia could protest, Rogue pulled open the door and stepped inside.
Felicia rubbed her temples, muttering, "He saves the world and drives this." With a dramatic sigh, she climbed in after her.
The interior was…surprisingly impressive. Compact bunks lined the sides. A small kitchenette gleamed with modern appliances. A bathroom door clicked softly shut as Rogue peeked inside.
Most importantly, the engine started on its own. There was a moment of panic. The RV lurched forward smoothly, driving itself through traffic without a single hand on the wheel. The wheel turned and turned and the ladies could only stare slack-jawed.
"Self-driving tech? Sheesh, I thought only the UK's SAS had this kind of stuff," Rogue remarked.
Felicia added, "I thought self-driving didn't exist at all in this world…"
A calm, distinctly British voice came over the intercom.
"GOOD EVENING, MS. HARDY AND AGENT SHADOWCAT. MY NAME IS MINI-SPIDER. I AM MASTER SPIDER'S VEHICULAR ASSISTANT. PLEASE FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS. OUR ROUTE IS PRE-PROGRAMMED FOR PARIS."
Rogue grinned and kicked. "Self-driving RV. I could get used to this."
Felicia blinked, leaning over the dashboard. "You…talk."
"YES, MA'AM."
"Opinoons on us?"
"CRIMINALS, OFFICIALLY. UNOFFICIALLY…PRETTY LADIES, I SUPPOSE?"
She frowned. "You think, don't you? You're not just an autopilot."
"YOU CATCH ON FAST. MY PARAMETERS INCLUDE ADAPTIVE REASONING, LINGUISTIC PROCESSING, AND ENVIRONMENTAL NAVIGATION."
She crossed her arms. "That's not possible. Not here. Not now. Tech like this isn't supposed to exist for another two hundred years."
"MASTER SPIDER'S INSTRUCTIONS PREVENT ME FROM DISCUSSING MY ORIGIN, MA'AM."
Felicia narrowed her eyes, intrigued despite herself. "Oh, really? And who exactly is your Master Spider?"
"CLASSIFIED."
Felicia sat back in the seat, staring out the window as the Rustbucket merged onto the highway and the Budapest skyline faded behind them. "Hmm…" She smiled, if only briefly. "Things are sure getting interesting."
***
Meanwhile — somewhere above the Atlantic.
Felix sat quietly in his private jet, unsuited and dressed in a black t-shirt, his hair damp. The cabin was dark except for the low hum of the engines.
He took a slow sip of water, eyes fixed on the distant horizon outside his window.
Below him, the world was chaos but up here, everything was still. It gave him time to think. He apologized to Felicia and Shadowcat, but they'd be fine. And, no offence, as much as he liked them, he didn't trust that much.
He didn't tell them that he'd already set a course for New York.
Because whatever had happened tonight… whatever the Auction Master had done…
The real war was waiting for him there.
"...it doesn't make sense."
"WHAT DOES NOT, MASTER FAETH?" Herbie asked through the jet speakers. Felix rolled his head around and clicked his tongue.
"Herbie, Rash, think about it. If the Auction Master could use his teleporter to kill people, then why didn't he do the same to Peggy Carter?"
"IT COULD HAVE BEEN A MATTER OF PRECISION. IT IS ONE THING TO TELEPORT EVERY LIVING ORGANISM IN A SPECIFIED RADIUS. IT IS ANOTHER TO SPECIFICALLY TARGET SOMEONE."
"....hm, maybe you're right."
Teleporting from place to place, city to city, Herbie and his spider-bots could spy on the Auction Master. He was just gone. The mystery of Peggy Carter's death and the blackmailer was still at large, and the Auction Master was his number one suspect.
No, wait, what was it Ambassador Yvan told him?
"King T'Challa was meeting with his own people! That's all I know!"
"Wait, wait! Wait. I-I was told t-that the blackmailer was a member of his own royal guards!"
"I-it was a member of the Dora Milaje! Or something related to them! That's who he was meeting!"
"W-we found a bracelet or something! Our sources say it belongs to the Dora Milaje or those adjacent to them! T-they're honoured in their country, right?"
Then even Rogue added to the fire by saying:
"I think I remember nicking a hand and I don't think I got their flesh, but a bracelet…?"
And the fact that the ambassador's logic made sense…
"Y-yes! Yes! It was found near the window! You were thrown off the window, weren't you? It was near there! At the edge! Almost about to fall! They must have missed it! A-and—"
And then he died. Felix's jaw clenched. The implications were massive if he turned his thinking around like this.
"A member of the Dora Milaje blackmailing their own king…is that why Teela was shot? For trying to blackmail the king…?"
It would make sense. Right?
"They have access to top-secret information. They have the trust. If it was a member of the Dora Milaje, of course T'Challa would go in there balls-out. Okay, wait, that sounds weird but what I mean is…" He took a deep breath. "With an elite guard that worked for him directly, he'd be comfortable enough to confront them with minimal security."
The only missing part then, was motive. It didn't make sense.
"Remind me of their system and history again. Don't miss out on anything."
So Herbie explained:
With no exceptions, only eligible candidates were those apart of one of the five major tribes: Panther, River, Mining, Merchant, and Jabari. Each tribe nominated its top female warrior every few years for entry into The Initiate Trials, held in Birnin Zana under royal supervision.
Another eligibility requirement was attending the Royal Academy. After five years, they graduated into becoming soldiers. Now, this was NOT the only academy for Wakanda soldiers. There were dozens of them but the Royal Academy was the very best and, more importantly, the only academy that specifically observed and sought out those eligible for being Dora Milaje.
Herbe continued. "BENEFITS INCLUDE: LIFETIME SALARY COMPARABLE TO SENIOR CABINET MINISTERS, ROYAL HOUSING IN THE CITADEL DISTRICT OF BIRNIN ZANA, FULL ACCESS TO ROYAL HEALTH SYSTEMS INCLUDING ADVANCED BIOREGENERATIVE MEDICINE, FAMILY PROTECTION, DIPLOMATIC STATUS ABROAD IRREGARDLESS OF MISSIONS ACCOMPANYING THE MONARCH OR REPRESENTING WAKANDA—"
"Wait, say that again."
"THE DORA MILAJE OBTAIN DIPLOMATIC STATUS ABROAD IRREGARDLESS OF THE MISSION CONTEXT. THIS DOES NOT ALWAYS COME INTO PLAY CONSIDERING THE NATURE OF THE MISSION BUT—"
"But they can receive great international influence if they chose to," Felix murmured. "Hmm…"
From his shoulder, Rash sprouted and appeared as a symbiotic head. The liquid-y, ghostly ball of black made him blink twice. "Sommmething up?"
"Huh? When could you do that?"
"Since now," Rash replied. "The harder you think, the more chocolate I want…"
"Sorry, sorry." He got up and fetched some chocolate in the cabinets. There was an emergency ration of chocolate too, not that he needed it. Rash ate the chocolate bar in two huge bites. "It's just how it is. Oh, but since you're here, I guess I can ask: what did you think of him?"
"The Auction Masterr…the one who we have been seeking…" Rash beckoned for another bar of chocolate. Felix got up, sighing, and with the cabinet fully open, he thiwpped and reeled the bar into his mouth. "He was strong. I could tell that much."
"Nothing else?"
"No. Nothing else."
He sat back down. He was still tense. "How long till arrival?"
"THREE HOURS," Herbie replied.
"Give me profiles of every single member of the Dora Milaje directly from Wakanda. I want the raw sources."
"THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE."
"Haa? Why not? You've gotten me information on them before."
"BUT NOT DIRECTLY FROM WAKANDA. NEARLY EVERY LINE OF INFORMATION WE HAVE ON THE DORA MILAJE IS LARGELY FROM SHIELD, INTERNATIONAL MISSION REPORTS, AND THE RARE LOCAL WAKANDAN AUTHORITIES MENTIONS."
"So…?"
"WAKANDA LIKELY THEMSELVES ONLY KEEP PHYSICAL RECORDS OF THE DORA MILAJE."
Again with the physical records bullshit…
"Likely?"
"REMEMBER, SHAMAN ARE STILL VERY MUCH APART OF THE CHOOSING OF THE DORA MILAJE."
Stupid shaman and stupid old ways. Why couldn't Herbie just hack into everything and steal everything? Oh wait, that's probably why they kept it physical…
"My only contact is Shuri…and well, maybe the king himself?" Felix blinked a couple times. He almost fell out of his seat. "Wait, where IS King T'Challa anyway? The Dora Milaje took him, I remember. Do we have a location on the king? Check all airlines in India in case they went that way."
"LOADING, LOADING…ALL FACIALS IN COMMERCIAL AIRLINES IN INDIA SCANNED. NO MATCHES."
"They have their own jet, duh. Scan sonic booms taking place hours after the murder. Our satellites do record them, don't they? And since they're in an emergency, they probably aren't going to go slow."
"LOADING, LOADING…ONLY ONE SONIC BOOM DETECTED FROM NEW DELHI IN THE DIRECTION OF WAKANDA."
"Can't say for sure they went there but I bet my left gut they returned. It makes sense. Maybe…" He smiled to himself. "Actually, call Shuri for me."
"YES, SIR."
It only took a small buzz for her to pick-up. As a matter of fact, Felix was surprised and delighted by how quickly she picked up. "Felix! Can't believe it!"
"Shuri, hey." He could hear the relief in her voice.
"You're okay! Where are you!?" Shuri laughed a little. "Wait, are you okay? Is this another secret message or…?"
"No, no, no this time. I'm good now."
"Good. Last time, you sounded like you were dying. Glad you're, you know, not."
Felix blinked twice and arched a brow. He glanced at the speaker that Herbie spoke through. 'What in the world did you make my AI generated voice sound like…?'
"I-I'm good now. Government espionage is risky, but, well, I guess I'm decent at it."
"Thanks for the warning! Really, we almost lost our fruits." Shuri clicked her tongue. "The council would have been pissed if we lost our super soldiers. Billions in lost. Ugh, and my brother too…" He could hear Shuri shaking her head. "Out of all times to be out of the country…"
"Yes, uh, I actually have news on that."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"He went to India, right?" Felix said. "I caught a report that something happened to him—"
"What!? Is he in critical condition? What happened?"
"All I know is that the king needs the Dora Milaje to move and that they are coming by jet. If they're not there, they should be soon. It's likely discreet too."
Frankly, there was almost no question they were already in Wakanda. But Felix had to play himself down just a smidge.
"When was this report?"
"No clue. I don't have much in the way of details."
"Some espionage." Shuri snorted. "But…thank you. I'll have all of Wakanda on alert."
"Good. Great."
"But once this is all said and done," Shuri said, "you better tell me how you knew all this. What you did for us, for Wakanda, if we were even one soldier down, they might have taken it. So...we want to know. To thank you and for other reasons."
"I promise. And don't worry, it's not a long story."
"I'll hold you to that."
Whether the Dora Milaje that took the king were innocent or guilty did not matter. Right now, Felix needed to slow the gears. Everything that was happening was the aftermath. A snowball effect of the truth. Of the original murders.
Felix's job was to stop the snowball from rolling and push it back until he reached the truth once more.
The Dora Milaje. The Auction Master.
These two were his top suspects. In order to catch and research them, he needed to slow them down.