Wakanda's ability to conceal its vibranium technology had nothing to do with luck.
To Senju Haruto, the fact that every surveillance drone had crashed wasn't surprising in the least.
On the contrary—if General Ross's drones had been able to just waltz into Wakanda's territory, capture images of daily life, and even gather evidence of vibranium stockpiles, then the Wakandan king might as well abdicate his throne.
Soldier One was startled by the outcome, but only that—startled. In his mind, perhaps the drones had been affected by some kind of magnetic interference. He wasn't an expert in the field, and he couldn't think of another explanation.
And at this point, there was no time for him or anyone else to figure it out. Not even for General Ross. Parking a mothership along Africa's eastern coast was not something you could hand-wave away with a flimsy excuse. If things went badly, both Ross and Maverick would be dragged before a military tribunal.
Ross didn't hesitate. His order was crisp and decisive: no matter the method, they had to retrieve actionable intelligence from this mission.
"Understood, General Ross."
Soldier One took a deep breath, mind racing as he set down his comm device and focused his eyes ahead.
Most of Wakanda's land was wide, open plains. But here and there, dense jungles broke up the landscape. In Avengers: Infinity War, the main battlefield between the Outriders and Wakanda's soldiers had been out on the sweeping plains. But just behind Vision had stretched the jungle—the very place where Thanos, wielding all six Infinity Stones, had snapped his fingers.
Now, Soldier One stood at the edge of one such jungle.
"Everyone, follow me."
He glanced back at Senju Haruto and made a sharp hand signal.
"You. With me."
Immediately, every other soldier turned their gaze on Haruto. In that moment, he became the focus of the entire unit.
He was the only one not in uniform, and that made the others start speculating. Most assumed he must be serving as their local guide, someone who knew the way forward.
Haruto met Soldier One's eyes. For a second, he thought Soldier One was worried about his safety—that he wanted Haruto close so he could protect him.
With that in mind, Haruto gave a small nod. Soldier One's concerns might be pointless—given Haruto's own strength, there wasn't a soul here capable of harming him—but he had no reason to refuse either.
He stepped forward, closing the distance, and soon walked at Soldier One's side.
What Haruto didn't realize, though, was that Soldier One's true intent was entirely different. He wasn't trying to protect him. He wanted to teach Haruto a lesson—show him what it really meant to be a soldier, and what that sacred uniform represented.
Neither man made his thoughts clear. And so, by sheer misunderstanding, Soldier One and Haruto formed a team and pushed deeper into Wakanda together.
It was worth noting, however, that Wakanda's formidable energy shield was not active.
"Looks like they only raise it in times of war," Haruto mused inwardly, keeping pace just behind Soldier One.
After about half an hour of trekking, Soldier One led the way out of the jungle. He slowed, cautious now, moving carefully to stay hidden.
That was Ross's standing order: don't reveal the target, don't attract attention. Ideally, the investigation had to be carried out without anyone even realizing they were there.
Soldier One exhaled, steadying his breath, then pulled out the most advanced military-grade binoculars. He scanned the surroundings.
There was no sign of the vibranium veins Haruto had spoken of. Instead, something else caught his eye.
A small group of Wakandan villagers—dark-skinned women—stood gathered, speaking among themselves.
The distance was too great to catch their words, but from their clothing and appearance, they looked no different from other rural Africans. Crude wooden huts rose in the background, the kind of dwellings that seemed a century out of place.
"An agricultural nation? That's generous," Soldier One muttered under his breath. "These people live like primitives."
Even as he considered whether to capture one of the women for guidance, one of them bent down, lifting a few fruits from the ground. They looked like some kind of melon, though Soldier One didn't recognize them.
From the way they struggled, it seemed they couldn't figure out how to break the tough rinds. The woman stood, gesturing that she would fetch a tool.
Haruto, watching silently, shook his head inwardly. Wakanda isn't really an agricultural nation. They have entire cities built from vibranium. Some of their people must simply prefer this tribal way of life. Still, it's just a guess…
For him, understanding their conversation was trivial. Whether through magic or the lip-reading ability of his Sharingan, he could catch every word.
But there was nothing of importance in their talk—just complaints about fatigue from farm work, wishing to eat the melons to quench their thirst, and lamenting how hard the rinds were.
Then came the moment Soldier One's eyes went wide in shock.
The woman reemerged from the hut carrying a crude axe. Its haft was wood wrapped with rope—but its head was not iron, nor steel.
It was raw, unrefined vibranium.
Judging by its size and heft, it had to weigh at least four pounds.
Soldier One's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He knew the black-market value: a single gram of vibranium in the United States could fetch tens of thousands of dollars.
The military used every single scrap of vibranium with extreme care, ensuring not a fraction was wasted.
And yet here, these people were swinging around a four-pound chunk as a simple household tool.
"Quick!" Soldier One barked, his voice rough with urgency.
The soldiers beside him fumbled for cameras, capturing footage and transmitting it back to the command center aboard the Stannis.
There was no exaggeration in it—this single image was proof enough.
Wakanda possessed vibranium, and plenty of it.