[ Kenyan Grassland, At Kenyan Border, Africa ]
They lingered in Wakanda for three more days. Officially, it was to give Prince T'Challa enough time to delegate duties before his trip abroad. Unofficially? Daisy suspected it had more to do with the Wakandan royal family's deeply ingrained inability to delegate without a council meeting, three advisors, and a ceremonial nod from a panther god.
When the day finally came, they departed through a narrow forest path that kept them away from prying eyes and press drones. Daisy led the strange little caravan, riding the war rhino like some surreal jungle queen. The panther—her divine shadow and now housecat-sized companion—perched on her shoulder, tail flicking. Behind them, Juggernaut and Batroc were dragged like oversized sacks of dirty laundry, tied securely to the rhino's armored harness.
T'Challa and Storm followed, whispering with the kind of secrecy that screamed they'd just been scolded—again—by the Wakandan Queen. Daisy could practically feel Ororo's barely restrained stormcloud of irritation. She didn't blame her. Royal family drama was exhausting enough without maternal lectures thrown in.
Of course, the rhino ruled out traditional transport. Commercial airliners tended to frown upon half-ton ungulates in their cargo bay. So the group strolled slowly through the Kenyan savanna, pretending it was all part of the plan.
Daisy spent most of the walk examining the gift she'd received: a cloak. Or, as she now called it, 'The Oversized Sack of Regret.' The design, the color, the cut—none of it worked. The fabric hung shapelessly off her lean frame, making her look less like a powerful operative and more like a vagrant who wandered too close to a cosplay convention. It was clearly a last-minute gift, likely pulled from the frontier tribe's surplus storage, boxed, and handed off with all the sincerity of a birthday card from a distracted uncle.
She considered modifying it, but she lacked the skill. Unlike other Marvel notables, Daisy's life skills were… narrow. Tony Stark practically welded his first diaper closed. Wolverine had been alive so long he could probably gut a deer, patch a roof, and build a log cabin before breakfast. Even Deadpool, unhinged as he was, could operate a sewing machine with eerie competence.
Daisy? She could assassinate a man through a WiFi signal, but couldn't hem a sleeve.
The cloak, being standard military issue for Wakanda's border patrol, offered decent protection. But it wasn't subtle. Or dignified. She sighed and decided she'd gift it to her maid once she got back. The girl was Japanese, handy with a needle, and most importantly, lacked bulletproof fashion.
As they trekked further from Wakanda, T'Challa and Storm seemed to forget decorum entirely. Daisy caught them exchanging increasingly saccharine displays of affection. Eye rolls ensued. Crossing into Kenya apparently triggered the 'public honeymoon' switch.
Daisy gave the rhino's massive head a firm pat. Her rudimentary mind-reading abilities still had a long way to go when it came to humans—but with animals, she was surprisingly adept.
After just three days of interaction, she'd built enough rapport with the creature that a simple gesture was enough to make it halt.
The couple behind her, still busy flaunting their affection, glanced forward in confusion, unsure why she had stopped.
As they were going nowhere, so turning to them, Daisy finally asked, "Are we actually walking to Kenya? Because even this rhino is getting bored."
T'Challa, used to scaling mountains like speed bumps, didn't see an issue. Storm, at least, understood. "I can contact the Professor, see if the X-Men can send a Blackbird."
Tempting as that was, Daisy wanted a ride with fewer strings attached—and less chance of a psychic lecture. As a Level 7 SHIELD agent, she had other options.
She decided to call in her own extraction. But before the plane arrived, she had one more thing to do.
She wanted that lion cub.
The panther goddess, never one to miss a dramatic entrance, insisted on coming along. With two quick teleports, they returned to the lion pride's location. One aerial scan later, Daisy spotted the not-so-nuclear family: one male, three lionesses, and a cub squad large enough to start a kindergarten.
"Big family," Daisy muttered, hovering midair with her fiery cloak flapping behind her. "I doubt you'll miss one."
The male lion began to roar—until he caught sight of the goddess on her shoulder. Then he reconsidered his life choices. The lionesses collapsed into fearful submission, and the cubs? They dove into the grass and disappeared like guilty toddlers.
"Why are they so terrified of you?" Daisy asked.
The goddess gave a sniff of pride. Translation: Don't mistake divine beans for stale bread.
Daisy picked up the same young lion she'd first encountered, holding him gently. "When I get a mansion, you're getting a room bigger than this savanna." Then she vanished, teleporting back.
Back with the group, T'Challa and Storm showed no objection to her new furry passenger. City laws about exotic pets didn't concern them.
The little lion was clearly uneasy after being separated from his parents. He glanced around nervously, unfamiliar with he surroundings. He looked ready to bolt, but had no idea where to go.
T'Challa and Storm didn't give off the vibe of hunters, and neither appeared threatening. Among the three, Daisy seemed the most approachable, so the little lion had no choice but to lie down pitifully at her feet.
The lion barely under two years old and nearly as tall as 1 meter when standing—he would not stay small for long.
The cub, curled up at Daisy's feet, he rested quietly as Daisy ran her fingers through the soft fur, absentmindedly stroking her while waiting for the S.H.I.E.L.D. plane to arrive.
The SHIELD jet arrived faster than expected, having launched from Egypt. The agents, trained for anything, still did a double take at the sight of the rhino, lion, and living wrecking ball. But they didn't ask questions. They'd learned better.
With some effort (and a little telekinetic cheating), the rhino was loaded onboard. Juggernaut, Batroc, the lion, and the cloak-that-would-be-donated followed suit. The flight plan pointed to New York.
...
[ SHIELD Plane ]
Mid-flight, Daisy dialed James and started coordinating T'Challa's entrance into Oxford. It wasn't a kindergarten transfer. Even Hank Pym couldn't smooth that path with a single call. Oxford needed proof of merit. Bribes were out of the question—or at least had to be subtle. They'd need background checks, references, and probably a few strategic donations to an underfunded department or two.
And then there was the issue of money.
Wakanda wasn't poor, but it wasn't liquid either. Their wealth was vibranium, not dollars. And vibranium? That was sacred. They hoarded it like dragons, refusing to sell even a sliver unless it came with a treaty and two UN signatures.
In Daisy's opinion, the myth of Wakanda's boundless wealth was just that—a myth. Vibranium was priceless because no one could get it. The moment it hit the open market, that illusion would shatter. In fact, she half-suspected the rumor that Wakanda was richer than Stark Industries had been started by Tony himself to deflect criticism.
So no, T'Challa didn't have the kind of cash flow to grease Oxford's wheels. But Storm did.
Daisy made an offhand remark about being a broke little agent, and Ororo handed her a bank card loaded with five million.
Just like that.
Besides the Oxford arrangement, Ororo also asked Daisy to find an apartment in the UK—a base of operations for when she and T'Challa weren't busy dodging royal responsibilities or battling global threats.
They discussed logistics on the flight: T'Challa would remain in New York for now. Daisy would arrange his transfer, chase leads on Wakanda's breached border, and maybe sneak in a few flirtatious visits to her favourite SHIELD agent.
T'Challa wanted to keep Batroc. He was, after all, the only person outside Wakanda who knew about the breach.
Juggernaut, however, was a hard no. Neither T'Challa nor Storm wanted that walking apocalypse anywhere near civilians—or students.
"Professor Xavier runs a school," Storm reminded her dryly. "Not a high-security penitentiary."
So Juggernaut would go into SHIELD custody. Somewhere very, very far away.
As the SHIELD jet sped toward New York, filled with a prince, a war rhino, a lion cub, two captured terrorists, and enough awkward energy to power a sitcom, Daisy leaned back, her fingers idly scratching behind the lion's ears.
This job was getting weirder by the day.
And she wouldn't have it any other way.
To Be Continued...
---xxx---
[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]