"Wakanda?"
The name was met with blank stares from most of the bridge crew. To the average citizen of the twenty-first century, the nation was a footnote in a geography textbook, if it was mentioned at all.
Fortunately, Tony Stark was already swiping through his private databases, projecting a holographic map of Eastern Africa. "Wakanda," Tony began, his tone skeptical.
"One of the poorest nations on the planet. Small, landlocked, surrounded by rainforests and mountains. Politically, it's an isolationist monarchy—tribal government, strictly agricultural. They only joined the UN at the end of the last century under King T'Chaka."
Tony looked up from the data, his brow furrowed. "I don't get it. Why are we burning half our fuel reserves to fly a Helicarrier to a third-world farming community?"
He wasn't the only one with doubts. Barton and Natasha exchanged a look; they had spent their lives in the world of high-stakes espionage, and Wakanda had never even appeared on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar as a potential threat or asset.
"Backward?" Emrys shook his head slowly, a knowing glint in his eye. He turned to the Director. "I think Director Fury has a slightly more... nuanced intelligence report on our destination."
Fury's expression darkened. "Wakanda has spent centuries perfecting the art of being ignored," he said in a low rumble. "But S.H.I.E.L.D. has been tracking a specific signature for decades." He looked at Steve Rogers. "Captain, your shield—the most resilient piece of hardware in our arsenal. Do you know where the raw materials came from?"
"The Vibranium," Tony interjected, his eyes widening. "You're saying the source is in Wakanda?"
"Exactly," Fury nodded. "Every scrap of Vibranium on the black market can be traced back to that region. We've sent agents in to find the mines, but none of them ever made it past the border. The country is a fortress of secrecy. They control the global supply with an iron fist, even if they pretend to be goat herders to the UN."
Tony's scientific curiosity was piqued, but his pragmatism quickly took over. "If they're that protective of the resource, they aren't going to just hand it over because we asked nicely. Especially not now that we're technically working without a permit."
"Fury's right," Steve added. "If they've stayed hidden this long, they aren't looking for new friends."
Emrys took a sip of water, his expression chillingly calm. "We aren't looking for friends, Captain. We are looking for the survival of the human race. If the Wakandans choose to hoard the tools of our salvation while the world freezes, they aren't just isolationists. They are traitors to their species. And traitors deserve only death."
The implication was clear. Emrys wasn't going there to negotiate a trade deal; he was going there to secure a strategic resource by any means necessary. For the "Great Cause" of saving humanity, he would not let a border stop him.
"I hope they're open to a rational discussion," Tony sighed. He wasn't a warmonger, but he knew the math: the Earth was facing an extinction-level event, and the time for pleasantries had passed.
As the Helicarrier crossed into African airspace, the bridge's comms console erupted in a frantic series of alerts. Maria Hill turned to Fury, her face pale.
"Director, the World Security Council just finished an emergency session at the UN. It was unanimous." She hesitated, looking at the team. "They've officially designated S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers as rogue actors. We've been branded the greatest war criminals in modern history."
The news hit the room like a physical blow. They had gone from the world's protectors to its most wanted fugitives in the span of a single afternoon.
"Fantastic," Tony growled, pacing the floor. "I've gone from 'Genius Billionaire Philanthropist' to 'International Terrorist' before lunch. I hope you're happy, Director. This is quite a legacy you've built."
Suddenly, Tony stopped. "Wait. Pepper. If I'm a criminal, Stark Industries is under a microscope. Where is she?"
"She's safe, Stark," Fury said, his voice level. "I had a deep-cover team pull her out the moment we declared independence. She's at a secure black site. No one—not the Council, not the FBI—is getting to her."
Tony let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, but the tension on the bridge didn't dissipate. There were thousands of personnel on this ship—technicians, pilots, analysts. They were the "gears" that kept the Helicarrier in the sky. If they realized they were now working for a criminal organization, the internal collapse would happen faster than any external attack.
Fury looked at Emrys, who was watching the African landscape unfold below them on the main viewer, seemingly unbothered.
"The Council just pulled the rug out from under us," Fury said. "The crew is going to start panicking. We need a plan to stabilize morale, or this ship is going to ground itself."
Emrys snapped his fingers, turning to Natasha. "Natasha, fetch me a coffee. Black, over ice."
"I am not your personal assistant, Emrys," Natasha snapped, her eyes flashing. "We've just been declared enemies of the state, and you're ordering drinks?"
"Words matter, Natasha," Emrys said, accepting the cup she irritably produced regardless. "History only recognizes 'war criminals' among the losers. We do not intend to lose. Therefore, we aren't criminals; we are the vanguard of a new order."
He took a slow sip of the coffee, looking out at the horizon where the hidden borders of Wakanda lay. "Military courts are for the defeated. Have you ever seen a victor stand trial? Once we break the Frost Giants and secure this world, the Council will be the ones begging for our mercy."
He turned back to the monitors, a predator's smile on his face. "Let them call us what they want. Justice is the privilege of the survivor."