Even though it had only been three days, Makayla had never missed Oakland so much. She missed her lumpy blanket, she missed her old as shit fridge with a jar of pickles she didn't like and a few pieces of deli ham that had gone suspiciously green. That rats that ran around her apartment at night would wonder where she had gone, but at least Mr. Jameson would finally get a few night of sleep. That man loved to complain about her too loud tv and incessant snoring.

Yet, as she stepped back into the place she called home, it felt wrong. It felt like something was missing, or just that something was wrong. She had barely made it three steps inside there was a banging one the door. She walked back and looked through the peephole, immediately regretting the action.

"You're late on rent again Jefferson!"

Fuck.

It was the rude old landlady who went by Gertrude, and looked like a goddam Gertrude too.

She was small and frail, pointing her bony finger in everyone's business like her input actually meant a goddam thing. Her back made her look like Quasimodo and her sneer could make children cry, yet she always found her crippled ass at her door.

The only reason she didn't just give Gertrude the finger was because it was a rent controlled building and paying $460 a month for a living room, bathroom, kitchen and bedroom was too good to give up.

Makayla slumped forward and groaned as Gertrude banged again, "I'll have it tomorrow Gertrude, I always do." Makayla walked to the door and opened it, looking down at the old black woman, wishing she could just clock her upside the head.

Her cryptic finger pushed into Makayla's cotton covered chest, "You kids always breaking the damn rules and doing what you want I swear this is why George left me, he likes the young ones with the asses bigger than they heads. And I said no men yet I see two crackers leaving your room yesterday when I came for the rent check. I only got one rule and you couldn't even follo-"

Makayla's blood ran cold as she tuned out Gertrude, taking a moment to look back at the place she called home. Who had been there? She was vaguely aware that Gertrude was still speaking about how much of a shitty tenant she was. She bent and put her hand on the old woman's shoulder, looking in her eye with concern, "Can you tell me what the men looked like?"

Gertrude stopped, giving her a speculative look, "Tall suits, gold hair and sunglasses, looked pissed as hell."

Before Makayla could speak again Gertrude held up a long brown finger, "You have till end of week for rent."

She waddled away, muttering to herself about promiscuous teens and having no money. Makayla shut the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily doing her best to stop a panic attack. Two white men in suits had been here, doing god knows what. She racked her brain, trying to think of what they could have done. Everything looked in place, nothing stolen, but maybe that was what they wanted. Whoever had been there wanted her to think nothing was wrong, but she wasn't that stupid.

She tiptoed to the lamp next to the couch and felt under the shade, smiling in victory when she felt a small round metal object. She pulled it to her eyes to inspect it and promptly crashed it between her fingers.

Her place had been bugged.

She tore apart her apartment, finding four more bugs and a voice recorder in the couch. She sat on the floor, looking at the destroyed machinery and thinking, who would want to bug a poor adults shitty place? Her heart sunk as it all made sense, her place ends up bugged after a robbery at a museum that she was at.

Makayla stood and ran to her bedroom, picking up her phone and scrolling through the contacts, clicking on Erik's name. She waited with bated breath, each unanswered ring bouncing through her brain. She cursed when there was no answer, pressing his name again, tapping her foot with impatience. She rolled her eyes when she heard Erik answer with a grunt.

"Erik, Erik- Erik my place has been fucking bugged, my landlord saw some white guys leavin my place when I was gone and just- shit," she ran her hands as best as she could through her messy curls,

"What if they saw me in London Erik? What if- What if they're gonna arrest me? What the hell am I gonna do Erik, Help me! Please!"

At this point she was yelling into her phone, angry and fear running through her veins. It was a moment before Erik said anything, though it was really just a sigh.

"And the fuck am I supposed to do bout that? You a big girl, figure it out."

Her heart dropped when he hung up, not wanting to believe that he gave zero fucks about her, but it was extremely believable. She didn't even have a moment to wallow before there was yet again another knock at her door. She huffed and walked to it, opened the door and raised and eyebrow at the short white man giving her a smile.

"Look buddy, I don't want what you're selling." She closed the door, grunting when he stuck his foot in at the very last moment, smiling at her through the crack in the door. He pushed it open with a surprising amount of strength, stepping into her apartment.

"Hello Miss, My name is Everett Ross and I'd like to have a word with you." He was a small man, Grey hair and a suit with shoes that practically gave off a shine. He had an smile on his face and his hands were tucked in his pockets.

"Well Everett, I would appreciated it if you would get the fuck out of my apartment before I throw you out. In fact, if you don't get yo ass outta here, I'm gonna have to call the cops. You want that man?" She spoke with a snarl and practically sneered when the smile stayed on his face.

He looked at his shoe and laughed a bit, "Well, it would be a bit redundant to call the police, seeing as they answer to me, but go ahead and try. I'll wait."

Her hand had been reaching into her pocket to get her phone but the man's words had stopped her. She sighed, thinking over her options. She could literally pick him up and throw him into the hallway, or do what crazy people do and hear him out. Her nails dug into her hand as she realized she was never did make the most sane decisions.

Makayla motioned her arm to the couch, rolling her eyes when he remained standing.

"I'm Makay-"

"Makayla Jefferson. 25, College graduate, estranged parents that you haven't seen or heard from in three years, no job and a jar of pickles in your fridge." He sighed and rubbed his eyes, as if he had done this before. "I know who you are, and frankly, what I'm doing here is your only concern. And I need to know why you were in London yesterday."

Her eyes widened and she shot a quick glance to the door, trying to see if she could make a run for it.

"Do you know Ulysses Klaue? Can you tell me where his base of operation is?"

She remained silent, eyes cast at the floor. This was bullshit and she didn't have to say shit.

"Okay, Okay, you want to do it like this, fine. Your choice."

He reached into his back pocket and handed her a laminated card with a number on it, though she didn't take it.

"Here's my number, you have three days to call and tell me what you know before I have my men come and drag to the Raft for crimes against the State. And if you think finding our bugs will stop us…"

He walked to her, holding out his card, waiting for her to take it. A beat passed and he let it drop on the floor. He walked to the door and opened it, prepared to leave. He stopped through, turning to her once more,

"You're wrong."

The door slammed with a thud and Makayla was at a lose for words. She ran, full out sprinted like a marathoner going for the gold, to her room and threw open the closet door, grabbing the green suitcase and putting it on the bed. Sweat was dripping down her face from fear and panic, forcing her to throw all of her thick hair up into a messy bun that left curls running down her face.

She looked crazy, but she had every goddam right. Crazy white boys threatening to throw you in prison for info you don't know can drive a bitch crazy.

"We shall arrive soon My King." Okoye guided the aircraft to their location, an apartment building in Oakland. They had left Wakanda a few hours ago, a farewell to Ramonda and a knowing smirk thrown T'Challa's way. The man had been silent through whole trip, his mind acting like a untamed hurricane. He was still reeling from the loss of his father, never truly having time to mourn before being thrown into another whirlwind of problems. At least Shuri had got him a new suit, though he stood by his old one.

He had watched as the suit covered the white dummy, gazing at the moving black material. He would never not be amazed at Shuri's intelligence and her amazing designs. The new suit could absorb punches and throw back the energy. It was twice as amazing as his original suit, though he would never tell his sister that, and it all fit right into a necklace. It was perfect. He felt the thump of the aircraft landing and stood, waiting for Okoye to stand by his side.

"4th floor, room number 419." He nodded and made to step down the ramp way. Okoye followed behind him, spear gripped in her arm. They walked quietly, quickly, and reached the door in no time. They took in the old worn out wooden door, the missing umber on the door, and the overall poor state of the floor.

"Remember, when you see her, do not freeze. "

T'Challa shook his head. "I never freeze."

Okoye rolled her eyes and banged on the door with the base of her spear. They heard a yelp, followed by a curse, and a bit of muttering. They waited a moment before the door lurched open

Okoye took in the scraggly looking woman, an angry snarl on her face and hair brush gripped like a weapon in her hand. Her baggy shirt covered most of her frame, though she could spy a pair of shirts peeking out from the shirt. There were curls sticking out of her messy bun that had found a way to escape. Her eyes held a fire that made Okoye smirk, she was a strong one.

T'Challa, on the other hand, had diner exactly what Okoye said he would do. He froze.

The woman in front of him was much more than the hologram had truly shown. She was beautiful, but there was a fierceness in her eyes that his pants feel slightly tighter. Her wild locks were only slightly tamed in her messy updo, and he wondered what she looked like with it down. He held his breath and tried to give his best smile a he took in her bare legs, wanting to see if they were as smooth as they looked.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Was today just pick on Makayla for no reason day?

This day was really trying its best to test her, and she was starting too loose. In front of her were two people who looked like African royalty, or just somewhere in the category of way richer than her.

The bald headed woman wore an intricate but exquisite outfit, though the tall spear really threw her off. The man though, oh the man, he was gorgeous. He was tall, taller than her, and had a calm smile on his face. His somewhat connecting beard made him look wiser and more handsome than any beard she'd ever seen. He was just a meal of a man.

Though no matter how hot he was she still didn't know why they were there, or why she couldn't just be left alone to pack at find somewhere to hide before the little white man comes back.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The guards eyes grew sharp and she banged her spear on the ground, the resounding bang making Makayla step back into the not safety of her apartment. The she became less fearful as the man just smiled at her.

"I am T'Challa," He motioned to the guard, " And this is Okoye. And we just want to talk. Nothing more." She looked from T'Challa to Okoye, to the spear and back to T'Challa, before sighing and letting them in. They stepped inside and she shut and locked the door. She sat on the couch and waited for them to speak.

"We have come to inquire about your whereabouts on-"

"Let me guess, you're here to ask about the museum robbery. Look man, I've been interrogated one too many goddam times to today. So you and your friend can-"

"How dare you speak to my king that way, you insolent child!" Okoye pointed her spear to Makayla's neck, the tip just touching her thin skin.

She watched as T'Challa spoke in harsh voice, in a language she'd never heard, which prompted Okoye to drop the spear.

"Please, just tell us what you know."

She tried, she really did, to keep her temper under control, but this was the second tine she'd been questioned about London and it was just too much. She hadn't done anything wrong, she hadn't stole shit, all she had done was be there and now the goddam FBI and the African mob were there to question her. She stood and yelled, her face red with anger.

"Why the fuck do you care? How does coming here and questioning me do anything for either of us than waste your time and ruin my day? Is it illegal to go to a museum cause then I ain't even goin to one again! This is the second time, just today, that I've been questioned and threatened and I'm just about done with this. I need you to leave, like now." By the end of her rant she had stood up, hands on her hips and anger in her eyes.

Okoye was practically foaming at the mouth, wanting to knock some sense into the girl who was disrespecting her king. But she knew better than to attack, at least until T'Challa allowed it.

T'Challa could feel the two women's anger in the room, and wanted to diffuse it as quickly as possible.

"General, give us a moment." Okoye looked at him with wide eyes, before nodding, walking from the room to wait outside the door.

It was just T'Challa and Makayla, both staring at the other.

She moved first, sitting back down on her gross couch, hands cupping her head. She felt the tears coming, and did nothing to stop them.

T'Challa sighed and crouched down, looking at the teary face before him, wishing he could take her pain away. "I did not wish to cause you this anguish, but if you help me," His hands cupped her cheeks and rubbed away her tears, " I promise to help you."

Makayla looked at T'Challa's sad smile and decided that she was weak to a mans smile.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Tell me everything you know about Ulysses Klaue."

Before she could say anything, Okoye walked in, stern look on her face. "T'Challa, they are planning an exchange in Buson. We must go."

T'Challa look at Makayla and stood, nodding as he offered his hand to her.

"Have you ever heard of Wakanda?"