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"There is more."
T'Challa clenched his jaw. His younger sister was quickly wearing his patience thin by reminding him of this fact. He already knew there was more mail. There was always more mail. "Thank you," he responded, remembering the words of his Baba about how a king must show composure, even when irritated beyond belief. "I will see to it in a moment."
"But, there is more," Shuri stated, gesturing into the hall. "So much more..."
The astonished tone she took on intrigued him. T'Challa stood from his perch on a reclining chair in the common room, going to his sister's side. He peered into the hall, his eyes quickly going wide at the sight of the three large bags of mail. His closest Dora Milaje guards were poking through it, making sure no potentially threatening mail happened to sneak by the postal workers.
"H-How?" T'Challa breathed, worried. "Why do these strangers keep sending me letters?" Who told them of the location of the bunker?
"Fan mail?" Shuri quipped, knowing that after the Accords, no superhero got such things these days. Hate mail, yes. Fan mail? Ha.
Okoye stepped away from the bags of mail, an opened envelop in her hand. Like Shuri, she had no problem with doing insubordinate things that would have deserved punishment. T'Challa and Okoye had an understanding that as long as she did her job as expertly as she did, he would overlook any of her audacious acts. "This one is from Director Nick Fury of SHIELD. He is requesting admittance in the BSSG... Will you accept him, my King?"
"Yes. I shall find a pen and write him back. Please, put this mail with the rest."
Immediate answers of acknowledgement met T'Challa's ears as he sought out a writing utensil to write a strongly worded letter back to Fury about how he could not just ask for acceptance into the BSSG through a letter. That wasn't how it worked. T'Challa wasn't the damn president anyway! Ororo was going to be angry with him admitting yet another member to the group without her consultation. After letting Agent Mackenzie drop in on a meeting of theirs without warning - which nearly led to Ororo striking the man with lightning before realizing he wasn't a threat - she'd told everyone to start calling her beforehand. Her paranoia gained from so many years of teaching in a school that blew up every other year made her jumpy around new people. Hopefully, she would not kill the former Director of SHIELD.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Ororo," Professor Charles Xavier called, a grin on his face. "You seem to be quite the busy lady these past few months."
It was hard to look nonchalant when they both knew why she was busy. Regardless, Ororo managed because she was one the Queen of Wakanda and currently was the fiancée of Wolverine. She could handle virtually anything at this point. "I am organizing a large event with friends of mine." I'd invite you, but the way your melanin is set up... she silently joked, still straight-faced.
Charles couldn't help burst chuckle a bit. "Have fun. Remember to lead Logan off your trail. He's been worried these past few weeks about your occupation with what he deems to be an unknown cult of sorts."
"Cult?"
"He has no idea where you've been going."
"Good. It is supposed to be a secret anyway."
"I'll try my best to pretend I don't know where it is."
"Thank you. I'd expect nothing less."
Two hours later, when dinner was eaten and the kids were slowly disappearing to head to bed, Ororo found herself in her greenhouse in the attic, on the phone. She'd been prepared to leave, but the call instantly stopped her in her tracks. "Oh, so you are coming to the meeting now? What changed your mind?"
"Well, my wife decided that she needed to catch up on her favorite shows without me interrupting her peace, and Danielle is over at a friend's house tonight. I've been kicked out of the house, and that's the only place I can go for free food and funny stories. I was just calling ahead of time, you know, 'cause no one has answered any of my letters. And I sent a lot."
"Okay, Luke," Ororo laughed, "You can come by. We'd be happy to have you. Just make sure you have a story of your own to tell."
"I worked for Murdock long enough to have a few." Enough said.
"See you soon, then."
~*~*~*~*~*~
Okay, Tony knew something was up. Friday clearly didn't think it was anything important because she was editing the security footage for the Avengers Mansion. But Tony thought it was something big. Why else would Rhodey need to keep it a secret?
"Maybe you should take a chill pill, drink some water, eat a couple orange slices," Scott Lang suggested, looking up from the Ant-Man suit. "I mean, wherever he's going, it isn't anywhere bad. Friday would have told you if it was. Isn't she omnipotent?"
"Nearly," Tony growled, staring at the projection in front of him. It showed Rhodey leaving. Then Sam. And then Fury. When did Fury come over? "When did Fury come over?"
"Like an hour ago. He wanted to talk to Rhodey and then Sam for a minute," Bruce answered.
Tony turned his unblinking stare to Bruce. There were dark circles under his eyes from both his insomnia and his recent obsession with finding out why his best friend kept disappearing every Friday evening. They couldn't party anymore, and Bruce was over there, acting like it wasn't a big deal. That was fishy. "You know where they all went, don't you?"
"No." Yes. "If I had a best guess though, it would be to a bakery or something. Sam's been complaining about how waiting for the revised Accords to go through with congress has made it hard for him to step outside in broad daylight without having some anti-superhero ass all up in his face." That wasn't a lie.
"Oh... Friday, project my latest work on Dr. Banner's worktable." Tony was now all smiles and mischief, momentarily distracted now that he had the word of Bruce covering Rhodey, Sam and Fury's sudden exits from the Mansion. "I think you're gonna like what I've been cooking, Big Guy!"
Scott sighed. Would he ever be accepted into their genius clique? It's been about a year since he went Giant Man and grabbed Rhodey. You'd think Tony would let it go. Luis would have let me see his pancakes like Tony's showing Bruce his designs... Scott missed being a burglar some days.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Where are you going?" Hannibal King asked, brow furrowed as he watched the famous Daywalker put on his coat and grab his sword.
"Out." Blade gave him one of those serious looks he must have mastered in infancy. "Don't wait up."
Before Hannibal could ask anymore questions, Blade was gone. "Well, fuck me with a porcupine."
Outside of the Nightstalker domain, Blade's ride was waiting. The half-vampire entered the front passenger seat, not bothering to look at the driver. It was his friend of many years, someone who understood what it was like to have the fate of so many on his shoulders. If Blade was being honest with himself, he'd say he trusted this man with his life in any situation.
"Fury."
"Blade."
And they drove, headed for the bunker King T'Challa tried to keep secret. Honestly, all it took was for Fury and Blade to corner Colonel Rhodes and Sam Wilson in the Avengers Mansion a month ago for them to find out where the place was located. Getting mail to the bunker was easy. Getting there themselves required special invites with badges that had tech T'Challa had to activate himself in order for them to be allowed inside.
So, they were going to go knocking on his door.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Come through!" Sam said into his phone, a cheesy smile on his face as he spoke to the woman on the other end of the line. "Oh, he wont mind. Besides, he's not as bad as he looks - I mean, he's not handsome like me, heheh, but he's a good guy. Just a little serious sometimes."
"Are you sure? Didn't you say I needed an official invite from someone?"
"Well, yeah... B-But, uh, Ororo is the president. She'll let you in 'cause I invited you. I'm sure she will."
"Sam, you're not just telling me all this so you get to see me, right? 'Cause that'd be stupid." And it was. There were too many other things going on with Claire for her to be caught up in Sam's charming ways. Her thing with Matt, Luke managing to get roughed up worse than either she or Jessica found comfortable, and the fact that she just didn't know if she was ready for a guy like Sam Wilson in her life. Sam was a hero of heroes, always fighting the good fight even though he had no superpowers of any kind, just a wonderfully honed acrobatic ability and a nonexistent fear of heights.
Damn it, Claire was in love with him.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Who are you?"
Malcolm Ducasse looked at the intimidating Dora Milaje guard, unable to speak for a moment. "U-Uh, Malcom..." He held up the envelope sent to him by the BSSG leader, Ororo Munroe that Luke gave him a few days ago. He began to shake out the badge that was inside. It was a gleaming gold and white, the symbol of a bird, a panther, a gun and a lightning bolt on it. "I was told by - "
"Ah, you're the guest of Mr. Cage." The guard stepped aside, gesturing to the open door. Even from where he stood, Malcolm could hear the sound of Marvin Gaye's Heard It Through The Grapevine. He didn't know if it was meant to be a joke, or not, but he found it funny that that particular song was the first he heard before his night of gossip. "Welcome, Mr. Ducasse. Enjoy the meeting."
He tried not to think of Kilgrave Survivors Group. Tonight was about a different kind of healing.
As Malcolm stepped into the building, the first thing that caught his attention was the wonderful scent of the food aligned neatly onto a long table against the wall. Malcolm was about to drift over to the table, spotting - wow, they really did their research to accommodate everyone - peanut butter sandwiches, but a person bumped into him. He turned and saw a tall, brawny young man with locs giving him a sorry look.
"Oh, man, I didn't mean to bump into you," the guy said, his voice much softer than Malcolm would have expected. "I apologize... I'm just a little nervous, you know? This is my first BSSG meeting." He smoothed down the front of his green sweater, giving Malcolm a shy smile before sticking out his hand. "I'm Wasabi."
Malcolm didn't question the name. It wasn't the weirdest one he'd heard in his lifetime. "Malcolm. Nice to meet you." They shook hands. "This is my first meeting to. Where are you from?"
"San Fansokyo."
"Whoa. You traveled across the country for this?"
"My friend, Mack, brought me since he was traveling." Wasabi didn't elaborate on who Mack was, but Malcolm was fine with that. Mack probably wanted his private identity kept secret or something.
"Mack is a cool friend."
A woman with an afro excused herself and the man who Malcolm knew as Colonel James Rhodes as she walked by them to get to the food table, going for the buffalo wings. Colonel Rhodes got a napkin grabbed a couple chocolate chip cookies. The pair chattered about the crime rate in New York dropping each time the BSSG had a meeting.
A guy with a short afro came up to Malcolm and Wasabi. "Hey, guys. Welcome!" he said, smiling brightly. "I'm Darwin. Mutant taxi driver by day, SHIELD employed agent by night. I was invited by Ororo. Who gave y'all the invite?"
"Mack," Wasabi said, pointing to a tall bald black man shaking hands with another man who had swords on his back. Malcolm felt he'd be refraining from questioning anything he saw for the rest of the night.
Malcolm pointed at one of the other tall bald men in the room - the one that wasn't Nick Fury (wasn't that dude supposed to be dead?) - and said, "Luke." Luke was currently telling Sam Wilson a story about how he beat up a couple thugs who dared to come into his neighborhood, shadowboxing.
The music transitioned into Kung Fu Fighting by Carl Douglas.
Sam Wilson doubled over as the coincidence dawned on him.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Tell me why Coulson's got a robot hand now," Fury said to the group as he sipped on an ice cold beer and relaxed on an expensive sofa. "A robot hand! I get shot by The Winter Soldier, I get more scars. He gets his stabbed through the chest by Loki, he's got alien blood. I'm tryin' to keep under the radar 'cause everybody thinks I'm dead, and this guy is running around lookin' like Jamie Lannister."
Everyone laughed. It was always great to listen to the stories everyone had. There were loads of complaints and grievances they each had about their teams and how they operated, but never any chance to get out what they really wanted to say. With nearly all of them being like the token black friend in their teams, it could be stifling in ways no one could ever imagine. Here, they were just a big group of black friends talking shit, eating good food and enjoying the companionship.
That was all anyone really needed most days.
Alphonso Mackenzie, better known as Mack, went next. "Tell me why Fitz had the idea to come to me and ask me to teach him how to dance so he could take Simmons out on their day off. That boy has not an ounce of rhythm and the world's worst need to count his offbeat steps. I'm scarred for life."
"Oh! Oh!" Misty interjected. "That reminds me... Tell me why Danny has been swearing up and down that he can dance. He tried to have a dance-off with me on Monday while we were waiting on some marks to rob a bank, and I nearly threw him off a building." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I never want to see another white man dance again."
"Fred thinks he can dance, too," Wasabi spoke. "He doesn't get that the tricks he does while in his suit aren't the same as dance moves. I almost quit the team when he said that the nae nae was the best dance move of all time. That boy needs a serious lesson in the greatness that was Soul Train."
Let's Stay Together by Al Green played over the surround sound speakers. The mood in the room shifted from amused to excited. Various exclamations of joy filled the air.
Sam grabbed Claire's hand and began to dance with her. Rhodey did the same with Misty. Blade and Fury, as old black gentlemen do, bobbed their heads and tapped their feet to the sound of the music. Ororo and T'Challa grinned at the way Malcolm, Luke and Wasabi did not hesitate to line up and begin doing old school backup singer moves, miming each word with serious faces and stiff limbs. They got Mack to join him after outstretching their left arms and making a, "Come hither," motion in perfect synchronization. Who could resist such well done choreography.
"I'm glad we do this," Rhodey called to no one in particular. "I live for these meetings, guys!"
"Sugar, don't we all," Misty told him. "Nothing better than enjoying yourself with people who can understand where you're coming from because they came from the same place."
~*~*~*~*~*~
Heimdall watched, once again, as the merry group of black warriors of Midguard. Just as he had done since the first formation, he watched them with interest and envy, for he knew he could not go to the group. His first duty was to Asgard and his king. Thor was a caring and devoted leader for the kingdom, but Heimdall knew that regardless of his wants, Thor would not allow him to leave his post.
The eyes of Heimdall saw all foes, and to take those eyes away would leave the kingdom blind. That was a risk that could not be taken.
Heimdall watched as everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves like never before. He wanted nothing more than to be down there with them. If only he could -
Wait.
He could.
Rolling his glowing gold eyes, Heimdall remembered that he was capable of projecting his form, creating a life-like double. He may not be with the heroes physically, but spiritually and magically... Heimdall closed his eyes, focusing on putting part of his consciousness into the form he was sending to Midguard, shaping his faux-self until he felt it was adequate. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in front of one of the Dora Milaje.
What? He wanted to be polite. Barging in led to many people almost getting killed by the president of the support group.
The Dora Milaje, Okoye, was instantly on guard, shifting her stance so that she was in fighting mode. "State your business!" she commanded, glaring at him.
Heimdall had to admit, he did look quite different from his usual self, but nothing to merit such a hostile reaction. As he saw from Asgard, a man of high power on Midguard wore either a suit or leather. He decided that trying the suit style would be entertaining in this form. Perhaps he was wearing it wrong? "I am Heimdall of Asgard."
The guard tilted her head to the side. "Who invited you?"
"I invited myself. It would be quite difficult for Thor to invite me when he himself is not part of this club."
She smirked. "Prove your identity, and I will grant you passage."
He knew exactly what she was asking of him. He was happy to oblige. "Tell me why Loki once turned into a horse and - "
"Ah!" the guard cried out. "Stop! I was asking for a better story, but that will do. Welcome, Heimdall of Asgard. Enjoy the meeting." She opened the door and allowed him in. Heimdall smiled at her as he passed by, making a note to himself to visit Midguard like this more often. He'd gone so long without leaving Asgard that he forgot what it was like to interact with people of different realms.
As soon as Heimdall walked into the room where all the heroes were, he found himself surrounded with cheers and applause. He paused, wondering what he did to earn such a boisterous reaction from them.
"You've finally made it!" Ororo called to him. "We were beginning to think you'd never show. I've read astral projection is a talent of yours."
Heimdall smiled. He should have known the Midguardian realm's weather goddess would be so smart as to figure out such things. She was a friend to Thor, and surely Thor talked about him, as he does of all his friends. "I apologize for my tardiness. Have I missed anything?"
The joke caused for many to laugh. It seems they all did their research on him.
"Come, tell us of your king - former or present. We'd love to hear it all," T'Challa said, waving Heimdall further into the room. Heimdall stepped forward eagerly, a tale already in mind.
"Tell me why Odin came to me for advice on how to better his performance in his marital bed..."