7321/Stepping Into Inspiration

Stepping Into Inspiration
Date of Scene:	11 August 2021
Location:	Bronx
Synopsis:	Shuri unleashed. T'Challa follows and defuses the bomb she lobs. A baobab is planted.
Cast of Characters:	Shuri, T'Challa

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Shuri has posed:
It was almost child's play. Because she's just barely out of legal childhood and she was playing. The new stealth screen worked perfectly: put up between her and her discreet Dora Milaje escort as she 'used the powder room'--what a silly euphemism!--and she could walk out while the escort saw the door remaining closed without her exiting.

They're not stupid. They'll figure it out quickly. But by that point, Shuri expected to be in an "Uber" and headed to another burrough. While the little tracker they thought she didn't know about was in a Lyft going to the airport. Or so it sounded like when she tossed it into the car as the passenger was boarding.

No, today she was going to show her brother something. She'd come to grudgingly accept that Wakanda couldn't come out into the open and kick down centuries of oppression, but ... she could INSPIRE her people! INSPIRE them to raise themselves out of the hole they'd been relegated to.

And how do you do that? You show them what people can make of themselves if they share a dream. A vision.

So, dress in a fancy gown. Don't be foolish. Mount the technology. But be elegant. Show them the wealth, the power, the confidence that was their birthright and inspire from them hard work and dedication so they can rise above the colonisers oppressing them!

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Feeling smugly self-satisfied, when her Uber driver asked, "You sure you want to get out ... here?" Shuri's only reply was,

"Yes. Of course. I said I wanted to come here. It would be strange indeed for me to say that and then not want to step out!"

And step out she did. In a gown likely more expensive than a couple of the tenements put together. Deep in the heart of the Bronx, looking for some locals to inspire.

T'Challa has posed:
It was becoming something of a game. An annoying game, but a game nonetheless. 'Ditch the Dora.' 'Shuri gives them the slip.' Whatever the name, if it even /had/ a name, Okoye was unamused. More importantly, so was T'Challa.

She was not due to go to the airport, so the fact the tracker in he vehicle that was en route there told T'Challa and his guard something was up, especially when Shuri did not finish up in the expected timeframe.

"She is foolish, and when I catch up with her I will tell her this," the King of Wakanda tells Okoye, who replies, "She ought to be put across the knee and spanked for once." T'Challa shakes his head. "You know by now that kind of discipline does not work on her, but now is not the time for that discussion. We will find her, and we will see what was so important to her this time." Ayo adds, "We will accompany you." T'Challa agrees, with a caveat. "At a distance. I am not looking to draw attention to ourselves. We will dress like the residents here." That means street clothes, if respectable ones, and the Dora Milaje will have collapsible batons with them.

T'Challa goes with a black leather jacket over a black shirt and black jeans with, no surprise, black sneakers. He checks the kimoyo beads he wears at all times to pinpoint Shuri's location. She still has Wakandan technology on her, which means she can be tracked. "She is on her way to the Bronx," he informs his guard, with a shake of the head as he pulls on a Yankees hat, fitted, with a side patch heralding one of their many World Series titles. Then, it is into an Escalade for the drive over. She will beat them there, regardless.

Shuri has posed:
Now ... there are several choices in sight. In her research Shuri had heard about the importance of "black churches" to the black community, but ... she did not wish to interfere with the local superstitions. Let them discover their spiritual roots on their own time and terms. The elderly were probably more level-headed, but also more entrenched into the patterns of belief of the oppressed.

So youngsters it is.

And there is a group of them right over in that lot. Tall, fit, playing some kind of athletic contest involving a ball and a hoop stuck on the wall precariously. It took approximately three seconds of observation to ascertain that the goal was to throw the ball into the hoop for some kind of points. The rest of the rules she could work out by participation.

Setting off from where the Uber dropped her off, she strode confidently toward the gang of youths playing basketball, noting the extreme diversity of their clothing ... but for the red bandanas they each wore either over their heads like an impromptu cap, or loosely around their necks.

That's an interesting data point. Perhaps there has already been some self-organization.

"Gentlemen!" she calls out as she approaches. "Good day to you all. What manner of sporting competition are you engaged in? May I join you?"

A dozen pairs of eyes swivel to stare, voices stilled as the unusual nature of the approach and the approachee sink in.

"I'd gathered that throwing the ball through that hoop is the point, but what are the other rules of your sporting match?"

Finally one of the youths speaks up. Voice bewildered, he looks across at a cluster of players. "Man, is this bitch for real?"

Three blocks away, two automobiles in poor maintenance start to fill with similarly-diverse youths carrying interesting sporting equipment: some form of wooden stick, face-hardened. An unusual form of chain that looks like it belongs on a motored conveyance. Gloves with metal plates.

Oh, and at least two handguns.

Their dress, although similar, differs in one key regard.

Their bandanas are blue and white.

"I am very real indeed, yes," Shuri says, continuing to stride forward. "May I be permitted to join your sporting engagement, or would you prefer I spectate?"

T'Challa has posed:
It shouldn't be any surprise that Shuri is already running into trouble. There is a certain hierarchy and ranking to the way of the street. Not exactly a version of royalty, but there is a pecking order. There are alphas. There are people who wouldn't hesitate to use whatever methods they felt like using to get what they want.

Okoye drives, and the Escalade has the good fortune to make all the lights. Easy to do when T'Challa is using the kimoyo beads to electronically tap into the grid in order to change them all green for the trip. Safely, but done nevertheless.

Ayo is tracking Shuri's location, and she relays, "She has stopped at a park of some kind." They still have blocks to go before they're in the area, but once they are T'Challa instructs them to pull off to the side of the road a couple blocks away.

"Remain here, Ayo. Okoye and I will see to her," he explains. "You will serve as my backup in case of unexpected trouble we cannot handle." He crosses his arms as a matter of course, returned by the two Dora Milaje, and the King steps out with his most trusted guard, the two taking a path along the sidewalk. It may cross with those in the blue and white.

Shuri has posed:
Whatever the youths were expecting this morning, a beautiful, scarified, tattooed young woman in a gown that looks like it belongs at an opera gala, not in the Bronx, was not it. Especially not one talking like she was a living English class come to life.

One of the youths ... not the largest, not the fittest, but from his face perhaps the smartest, and almost definitely the one most prone to causing fear in the others ... steps forward.

"Guys, bitch here is a trap! You know the Coyotes..." He pronounces it "K-eye-oats". "...is movin' in on our turf. THOT is makin' yous all look at her instead of the street."

He points at two people in sequence.

"Lenny. Jonsey. Grab the bitch and get her inside. Get her talkin'. Who set her up here and what they plannin' when? Rest of you, fall out! Get outta sight and into watch! Look for them Coyotes, 'cause I guarantee they comin'!"

He may be a thug. He may be violent and scary to them. But his leadership potential is remarkable. Shuri observes this with satisfaction as he snaps out orders and people obey, not registering for a moment until Lenny and Jonsey each have her by an arm and elbow and start trying to muscle her to a door inside the courtyard.

They don't have this for long.

One forward flip rips her arms out of their grasps. The right leg being extended on the recovery takes one of them down in a clean sweep at knee height that causes more than a little bit of pain as one of the knees, struck just so, flexes backward just enough to be horribly uncomfortable.

"You will not lay a hand on me!" she fumes, facing off Lenny (as it is Jonsey on the ground clutching his knee in agony). "Not if you ever want to see that hand again!"

The cars with the blue bandanas are two blocks away, cruising quietly down the streets. Except for the whooping and the catcalls at passing women.

T'Challa has posed:
"Uncivilized dogs," Okoye mutters under her breath, close enough now with T'Challa that both of them see the vehicles and hear the shouts at the women in the area. Okoye is dressed not unlike T'Challa, favoring attire that would give someone like her 'street cred.'

T'Challa responds, "Many of them do not know any better. It is their upbringing. This is a neighborhood that has been forgotten, left behind. Many of the people who live here are left to fend for themselves, or that is what they have been conditioned to believe." These are things he already knows, which on one hand gives him a clue as to Shuri's decision to come here. On the other, she has done it in a way he disapproves of, a way that puts her in danger, a way that puts them all in danger.

They move more swiftly to bring the basketball court in view, just in time to see things beginning to head in a direction he'd hoped it wouldn't. His jaw sets and he begins to jog closer, Okoye still with him. "Ayo, be ready. This may be worse than expected."

Soon, they can all hear his voice. It is normally quiet, patient, measured. Not so, now. "Move away from her this instant! Do not touch her again!" They might not know his voice, though it is clearly an African accent of some kind. Shuri? Oh, she knows it well.

Shuri has posed:
The transition is a thing of beauty to behold. If you're not a pissed security detail head and an even more pissed older brother. From one moment to the next Shuri goes from outraged, infuriated princess about to hand out an ass-whooping to ...

"Oh, Lenny, you joker!" she says effusively to the confused boy she'd only moments before been ready to pound into unconsciousness. "Always playing around!" She looks down at Jonsey with remorse so false it makes a stripper named 'Delicia' look positively natural. "See what happens when we horse around?" she asks, crouching beside the moaning youth. "Come, help me get him up!"

... well, whatever that was.

Looking up in feigned surprise, she grins cheerily T'Challa's way. "Oh, Brother, I did not expect to see you. I was just visiting some *old friends* ..." The two words are loudly stressed. Loud enough to bring all eyes on her again in confusion. "... to see how their neighbourhood improvement project was coming along."

She looks around quickly for signs of anything she could point to as improvement.

"See?" she says, finally pointing at the very badly mounted, corroded basketball hoop. "They've started a sport club!"

She shoots a desperate glance at the leader ... who ... amazingly ... after a moment's being taken aback ... smoothly plays along.

"Yeah, she one o' us now," he says to T'Challa, staring at Shuri briefly like she's grown a third eyeball in the middle of her forehead. "Come to play ... basketball ... yeah, basketball all the time."

Then the leader's mouth opens in a smile. It's ... predatory. "Don't know who you are, though, dude. I'm Albert."

The pack starts to nonchalantly surround T'Challa and Okoye. Cutting off escape.

The blue bandanas are one block away. The cars' engines rev and tires squeal.

T'Challa has posed:
"You are a poor liar, Shuri," T'Challa scolds her in front of the whole crew. "You have never met these people before, and I do not think you could even tell me what sport they were playing." Albert fills that blank in soon enough. Basketball.

Okoye has already taken a position that allows her to see more of the group that begins to flank them, and she makes a quiet sound T'Challa's way. Unspoken code of some kind. A warning, just in case he was not already aware. He is.

He steps toward Albert, not giving him the chance to play the role of the alpha for much longer. "Albert. I will not lie to you. I am T'Challa, King of Wakanda. You have already met Shuri, my often headstrong sister. I am not your enemy, but you would be wise to direct your friends to take a less aggressive position. I believe we could have a talk about helping your neighborhood, but at this moment there are two vehicles approaching that are full of people who I believe intend to fight."

Vehicles Ayo is cutting the engines to thanks to her own kimoyo beads.

"We do not wish violence, but we will protect ourselves if we must. Think quickly, if you do not want this to spin out of your control," T'Challa urges. The way he carries himself, he might just be a King. Here, they might not recognize his name.

Shuri has posed:
Shuri was about to waste more time pretending she wasn't lying until the mention of approaching vehicles. A hard light visor flickers over her eyes, then, and various kimoyo beads get activated as she, completely ignoring the gangsters (provided they don't try to touch her again), as she takes in the tactical situation.

"You, top dog. Albert. Whatever. Get your people indoors now. I count ... nine incoming."

Her gown vanishes and is replaced by her form-fitting suit in the blink of an eye. Because her whole point is to show people what possibilities there are in their futures. A second later she is airborn as omniwire yanks her skyward to the third floor of the building opposite.

"I will disable the rearmost vehicle, Brother!" she calls down, not even bothering to wait for orders or guidance or even permission to engage.

Albert and his gang freeze as the world changes around them in ways they do not comprehend. Cannot take in.

And the blue bandanas wheel forward in consternation as their cars die unexpectedly. Lurching to a halt they begin to pile out after a couple of seconds.

T'Challa has posed:
While waiting on Albert's decision, T'Challa is forced to watch Shuri give away any last semblance of cover she may have had, her more familiar suit now in place. "Bast grant me patience," he mutters, which Okoye can hear as she pulls her baton and presses a button to cause it to extend out a few feet. "This discussion is not over, Sister," T'Challa adds.

Feeling like he's been forced into it, a subtle activation of his beads sees the suit of the Black Panther flowing over his body, the masked helmet the last thing to conceal his head. While the public knows he is the Black Panther, their belief is that he is simply a metahuman of some kind, or a man who has gained access to fantastic technology. Some are closer to the truth than they know.

"Ayo has already cut their engines, but be ready," he calls out to her, and a gesture toward Okoye and the arriving Ayo sees the two of them spread out to help usher any straggling bystanders to a safer place. The Panther stalks in the direction of the people piling out of both vehicles, making no effort to hide himself. Draw the attention his way. That's it. "Think very carefully on what you are about to do!" he addresses them. "Do you recognize who you see before you?" That's right. He's an Avenger. A Justice Leaguer. And, a King.

Shuri has posed:
"You brought Ayo too! That's a bit overkill for picking up your wayward sister, Brother!" Shuri says through the comm beads. "Well, no use in wasting an opportunity for shock and awe, as the colonisers put it, is there? I'll make sure they understand so they know why they want to stop. But then, Brother, we have to talk to them and stop them fighting with EACH OTHER like this when they've got bigger enemies!"

Oh. No.

She's talking about shock and awe.

She has...

The pads at her shoulder widen out into wings and small jet engines as Shuri takes to the air. One of the beads newly integrated into her suit starts to unfold to cover her right hand. It looks like, if the glow is anything to go by, a repulsor rather similar to Stark's ... On no!

A brilliant, too-bright beam of blue strikes the hood of the rear car, melting straight through it and into the ground beneath. Apparently heavy on recoil, Shuri's flight is thrown into instability as the beam slices the car front to back, leaving the left and right 25% to fall over in place, the road beneath the car pitted and melted and filled with molten metal.

Safety protocols cut the beam off before it can do any more damage, but Shuri herself is slung skyward at a not-insignificant speed and trajectory.

"Needs some tuning!" she says into her comms unit. "BUT IT WORKED!" Her voice was pure joy as she exulted over the success of her experimental weapon. Then, in horror, "OH SHIT!"

The sound of a church bell pealing is heard in the distance as something strikes it at tremendous velocity.

T'Challa has posed:
"Shuri, you will stop!" Black Panther shouts, and it can be heard through both the comms and by all nearby. "You are not making the situation better, but worse!"

Is she? If the blue bandana brigade had ill intent on their mind, what would seeing their ride suddenly sliced through with a laser beam do to their confidence? He can see them with their weapons, including at least a couple of guns, and he continues his path toward them, heedless of the unplanned bell-ringing. Maybe it'll ring /her/ bell too, and knock some sense back into her.

She isn't wrong about trying to get the sides to stop fighting, but they've yet to even learn what the conflict is. In places like these, it could be over something significant, or something that would seem completely minor to anyone else, but to the people here it feels like the most important thing in the world.

His patience truly being tested now, he sends Ayo to see to Shuri and make certain she's all in one piece while he appeals to the gang. "Lay down your weapons. Talk to me. You may try to hurt me, but you will find it quite difficult. My sister, I cannot promise she will not ruin your other vehicle."

Shuri has posed:
Ayo heads off to the church to check on Shuri, going through the front door (whether they want her to go through or not ... fortunately they were not locked) to run up the bell tower.

"I'm all right," Shuri's irrepressible, but shaken-sounding voice says in comms. Her suited figure can be seen struggling to break free from some masonry. Which she accomplishes. To the detriment of a bicycle tied up beneath.

She jets down next to T'Challa, then, causing an exasperated sigh to break out from Ayo over comms as she reverses course.

"Yeah. Put down your weapons. 'Cause you think you can handle him you're wrong! And I'm worse because I'm completely out of control!" she calls.

Her subvocalized laughter fills the comms. "Not a lot of disagreement to that from you, I think, today, Brother!"

The Coyotes stop. Albert's crew, the few still out and not retreated to their clubhouse stop. Silence fills the street momentarily.

"Now, you see!?" Shuri is piping up again. "Isn't this better when you're quiet? It's peaceful. You can talk and be heard. Albert, my old friend..." She's STILL trying to push the lie! "...come out here and meet..." Evidence of hasty hacking work with face recognition on police databases abounds. "...Stanky!" Beat. "Really? That's the..." She shrugs. "You two have got more in common than you have dividing you. Meet here in the street. Talk it out. My brother and I will stand and make sure nobody interferes."

Shuri. Hot-headed, impetuous, laser-blasting ... peacemaker?

A real diplomat might want to take over now.

T'Challa has posed:
Ayo will take note of the damages to the church and make sure T'Challa knows of it, in order for repairs to be done and then some. She is left behind as Shuri flies back to the scene, and now it's her turn to utter something under her breath.

Okoye is a constant presence, looking like someone that really should not be trifled with as much as she may wish for a little action.

Black Panther's head turns toward Shuri as she speaks up once more, and to his credit he waits for her to finish before he adds anything. "You are right about one thing. You are completely out of control. Now, you will still your tongue. I will not tell you a second time. I trust that is clear enough for even you to understand." His patience with his sister, today? It has run out.

"Any man or woman with a weapon, leave it behind," he says, raising his voice so all in the vicinity can hear. "Do not even think of attacking another here. You, and you," he points to Albert and the Coyote who comes off as their leader, then to spots in front of him at a park bench. "Be seated, and explain to me exactly what your grievances are with each other. You first, and there are to be no interruptions." Albert is the one he directs to begin, followed by the other man.

Shuri has posed:
"Bro been in my shit lately is all," Albert says, sitting as directed, but as far from the other as he can. "I got a territory to run and he keep sendin' his folk in my turf, up in my face, disrespectin' me!"

He sends a scathing glance at 'Stanky' (ugh, poor bastard!). "We was fine with the Coyotes until they started comin' into our space, steppin' into our deals. Why you went and did that bro?!"

For his part 'Stanky', who is built more like a young construction worker, but with a rough voice that sounds like a cross between a band saw and sandpaper, responds, "What the Hell else we gonna do!? They keep rebuildin' streets in our turf and then the cops come and we gotta move on! Only one way to move here, fool! You in the middle of it!" He snorts. "And everybody know you don't share shit! It's dog beat dog, man!"

Fan of mixed metaphors it seems.

Shuri, about to pipe up, finally causes Ayo to snap and simply cover her mouth from behind. The shock of this outrage shuts her up, mercifully, though the poison in her glare hints at future retribution.

T'Challa has posed:
Okoye stands nearby like a silent sentry, more than ready to act should anyone make a move on Black Panther, Shuri, or anyone else.

T'Challa takes a seat between the two adversaries, and he causes the mask to pull back and reveal his face. It is not an unkind one, but it does show an inner conflict taking place as both of them describe their issues with each other and their respective groups. "Allow me to make a guess," he begins.

The Wakandan looks them both in the eyes, and his voice manages to remain calm in spite of the heightened tensions. "You all feel stepped on by others, trapped in a life you do not know how to change for the better. Your neighborhoods are filled with crime, poverty, and desperation, and you have been drawn into it feeling like you have no other choice. You turn to drugs, guns, and whatever else. The police do not care, do not help, and the politicians would be rid of all of you if they could."

From man to man, he gives them the opportunity to confirm or refute his hypothesis, then asks, "What will it take for all of you to find peace with each other and work together in the interest of making your home a true community? Be true with me. It is within my ability to help."

Shuri has posed:
A different voice speaks up. One of the Coyotes.

"Hope."

A lot of eyes turn in surprise his way. Except Shuri's. They turn with a look of triumph in her face.

"We gotta know there's a future, man," the guy says. "We gotta know we got a place. We gotta own shit instead of rent. We gotta earn shit instead of steal."

One of the few red bandana guys speaks up as well then.

"Need a place where our mommas don't teach their kids at younger and younger ages how not to get killed by cops!" he says. "Need schools that teach instead of holdin' us in place for twelve years tryin' to keep us off the street."

Another voice pipes up. This one an elderly one. From the door of the damaged church.

"We need love, Mr. Panther," the preacher says quietly. "It's something we lack. No love of neighbour for neighbour because no love for ourselves. And we can only get that last bit if we get a bit of pride."

A chorus of assenting voices. Pride.

Dozens of eyes fix on T'Challa. Including a glowing pair in Shuri's face.

"Go get them, Brother!" she says over subvocal comms. "I set them up for you, now take them home!"

T'Challa has posed:
As it turns out, neither man at the table needs to speak, for others watching this, some with their phones out to record it, speak for them. As they do, he looks to gauge their expressions and reactions, the two seated with him, and finds neither of them disagreeing. Rather, both nodding along, whether reluctantly or not, both struggling to keep their emotions in check rather than displaying weakness in front of the other.

T'Challa rises, and gestures for the two of them, Albert and..Stanky..to do the same. "Hope begins with something to live for, something to work toward together," he explains, his eyes passing from face to face. "It means helping someone in need instead of turning away. If nobody else is willing to do it, one of you must be the first. Today, I see two sides who were ready to fight, ready to kill, but instead you are talking. That is an important step. If we do not talk, if we do not listen, what do we have? Nothing."

He gestures toward the run-down park, the run-down homes, the run-down neighborhood. Taking a moment for the man who spoke of knowing they have a place, he says, "You are correct. You must earn something in order to appreciate it. This means jobs. This means learned skills. These things are difficult to create with a snap of the finger. For some of you, you may only be able to lend a hand to help teach your children how to create a better future for themselves. I can help with schools. I can help with housing, with things for you to do to become more of a community, but each one of you must work to take ownership of it."

To the preacher, he adds, "You must learn to love yourselves and what you have instead of hating others and resenting what you do not have. Take pride in who you are, and you will take pride in each other." His arms extend to either side of himself. "I have been to many places, and I have lived a privileged life. I am not ashamed of that, but sometimes.." He pauses, to collect a thought. "Sometimes, a man needs to learn how to be humble, needs to see where people come from in order to understand what makes them live and breathe. I give you my word that I will not abandon your hope for a better future if you will not abandon it, if you will not give up on yourselves. Will you give me your word?"

Shuri has posed:
No words. Just a handclasp. First from Stanky. Then, rapidly, not wanting to be upstaged, Albert. The two glare at each other a moment...and then grins break out instead.

There's a bit of work ahead and they both know it.

The elderly preacher walks in a stately fashion down the steps, disguising worn knees and worn soul, keeping his head straight and high as he approaches the king.

"Bless you, Mr. Panther," he says, gravelly voice of a whiskey-soaked blues singer lending gravitas to his words. "I'll try to keep them on the straight and narrow for you. You did God's work, today."

Shuri, about to pipe up, gets the Ayo treatment again.

The old man then, showing steel in his soul that may be a bit tarnished but is still present, turns to the pair.

"Albert. Stan. You hug it out now, man. Not a shake. A hug. It starts here and it starts today. You gotta lot of people lookin' up to you. Use it to make the place better for us all."

And that little steel in his soul shines in the light of his message. The pair, unwillingly at first, do a bro-hug in the end. Slapping backs, even.

Ayo can stop her from speaking, but not over comms.

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW I WAS RIGHT! WELL DONE BROTHER!"

T'Challa has posed:
"Call me T'Challa," the King says to the preacher. Though their beliefs as far as deities go are different, there are things that transcend that. He waits on Albert and Stan, and while they start with hands meeting and follow with a brief but manly embrace afterward, he does not intrude on the moment they share.

Rather than lecture, or say anything else meant to break through the imaginary walls any of them have built around each other, walls that already appear to be coming down, he says, "Give me one week to learn more about this place. We will identify buildings that need replacing, that need renovating. We will rebuild this park. We will get you schools where your children can learn in a safe environment. My sister will help gather information. Anyone willing to build up your community will have a job doing it, a job you will be paid fairly for." Yes, he has just given her a responsibility. "If you have any suggestions, send word to me at the Wakandan Embassy, or visit me. We will not be strangers to you." He stops short of describing them as a personal project, but that is what it is akin to.

Once the people have had their say, once he has shared a few more words with any who wished to speak with him, or take a picture, or get a closer look, he leads the way back to the Suburban they left a couple blocks away, which is still in one piece.

"You have something to say, Sister," he prompts. By this point, the suit is gone, replaced by the civilian clothing he'd come in. His tone, while calmed from earlier, might not be fully forgiving. Yet. Now is her chance to tell him what is on her mind.

Shuri has posed:
"I know you're angry with me."

Shuri states the obvious. The blindingly obvious.

"But, Brother, you have so much of the big stuff in your head you forget something!"

Back in her gown, she opens her palm for a hard light display to pop up. It shows a time-lapsed video of a plant growing. A baobab.

"This is a beautiful, strong tree. Symbol of our people, beautiful and strong. But look where it comes from. That seed. That small seed is what gathers around itself everything that makes the final, mighty trunk."

She gestures around the neighbourhood crawling by the windows of the Suburban.

"This is a fallow field, Brother! You're so busy up on high trimming back this branch here, that weed there, you forget that we need to plant seeds! I came to plant a seed today, and today WE did."

So she's sharing some credit.

"We have a seed planted in all this filth around us. And that seed, if we nurture it, and if it doesn't get swallowed up by something else, we can grow to take all this filth and transform it into a strong, mighty trunk. A trunk that gives us more seeds that grow into more trunks until we have a forest of our people in the heart of this city!"

Her eyes are shining and her voice is soaring. She'd be good at delivering speeches.

"And today we planted the beginnings of that forest, don't you see? It's not about cutting back and logging. It's about growing new things!"

T'Challa has posed:
Okoye again drives, Ayo next to her in the front passenger seat, leaving T'Challa and Shuri to share the spacious seats behind them. He spends much of this part of the ride looking out his window at what they pass: cars stripped and on cement blocks, some burned-out husks. Homes and businesses with bars over the windows, trash left around, peple living in squalor, drug deals being made with barely any attempt at hiding them. No police, and any that are around, not seeming to care.

"You have a strange way of getting me to act, Sister. Could not that whole thing have been done without you sneaking off, without you nearly setting a spark to tinder waiting to catch fire?" he questions of her.

Yet it remains that the fire was not lit, did not burn. It may have been because he arrived in time, but if he hadn't? Would Shuri have been able to defuse the situation in time? "You have admirable ideas, but you need to think ahead better. You are not wrong about nurturing a seed into a forest, but we are fortunate there were people there willing to speak up when they had the chance, willing to put something of themselves out there for the rest to hear when the opportunity was there. Some would have stayed hidden, would have cowered, would have feared drawing attention their way."

He steeples fingers before himself, at the chin and mouth, glancing her way. "You will replace the vehicle you destroyed with whatever that display was. And you will come to me the next time you have a big idea, rather than putting me on the spot like that. It is not that we cannot afford what we are about to do, but Wakanda cannot solve the world's problems. Today we found people who are not ready to quit. The soil may still be fertile with the right work to recover it."

Shuri has posed:
"I'll buy them a jet car!" Shuri says, laughing. "'Pimped out' with outrageous colours and every idiotic stylized design known!" She's grinning now at her brother, clearly teasing before resting her forehead on his shoulder both out of fondness and a subtle form of supplication. Apology. Because she'll never say the words of apology...

"Thank you, Brother, for letting me be lead on this. I thought you might be angry enough to tell me to stay away from it, and then I would have to defy you again."

The pair in the front seat stiffen.

"I'll make you proud with what I done here, though. They'll grow into a baobab so tall, and so mighty, that others can't but help to be inspired!"

Then she does something unprecedented (for those who don't know her).

She lightly smacks the back of T'Challa's head. "And you have to stop being so negative!" she exclaims, adding, in (eerily accurate) imitation of his grave, lecturing voice, "Today we found people who are not ready to quit." She snorts. Loudly. Dismissively. "Brother, people like that are everywhere to be found! You just have to find the way to their hearts to shine that little glimmer of hope."

Shrug.

"And blowing apart one of their cars with a laser that needs some fine tuning is a good way to shed that light, isn't it?"

Yes, she's already moving to defend, laughing.

T'Challa has posed:
T'Challa's mouth opens in immediate objection to the ride she says she will get to replace the one she ruined, then he shuts it as the tease is realized. That reminds him, he'll need to send someone out to recover it and explain to the owner that it will be replaced. Bast grant that it was not a stolen vehicle.

Awkwardly for the moment, his right hand lifts as he bends the arm to lightly touch the side of her head, telling her, "I hope that it does, but what of the next neighborhood over? And the one after that? Are we to do this with each one? They do not all have the resources on their own to bring about the change they desire." This is still a worry of his.

One that is interrupted by the surprise of the swat she gives him before she pulls away. A glare that doesn't last, but he explains, "You mock me, but you put me in a difficult position. I am growing closer to telling the world of what Wakanda truly is, but you must be careful not to give away too much. This is my burden and responsibility as King, not yours. I must be certain the world is ready to learn the truth. Already, this will bring questions. 'How will they afford these things they promise?' They know Wakanda as a tiny nation little different from its neighbors."

She's sent a stern look at her joking about lasers in need of further calibration and tuning. "That is another thing. You are not to conduct field tests that put innocent people in potential danger like that. I will hear no protests to this, no matter the fact it may have surprised them all into listening to me."

Yes, there is much that is running through the young king's mind. For every action, there comes with it a reaction. A consequence. Bast willing, the consequences will not be too problematic.

Shuri has posed:
"We burn those bridges when we come to them," Shuri says, mangling the idiom. "They can't do it all themselves, no, but Brother, they can all work to at least bettering what they have. A little bit of a push here and there to help them along, and they can grow themselves. I have been doing research. This won't be the first time that our cousins here in America have done well for themselves. In the past, however, when they did, like in a place called Tulsa..." Her face goes grim as she recalls the pictures and reports of that massacre. "...the colonizers stepped in and tore it all down."

She pounces, practically, in her body language. "And that is where we will be waiting. We know they can elevate themselves. They've done it before. At least twice!" Her fist strikes her palm. "So we help them. Give them that little ray of hope to let them start again. Build up again. Only this time when the colonizers try to strike, we are there to protect!"

She's been doing some thinking. It wasn't all rash whimsy.

Not all.

"But yes, Brother, I will be more careful of what I reveal. And I will not field test in civilian areas."

She sounds genuinely contrite.

How long will that last?