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Take Me To Your Leader

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As the quinn jet landed, Okoye frowned. Beside her, Ayo shared the sentiment. These Avengers had been—and would be—nothing but trouble. 

T’Challa sighed. “What is it?”

“I said nothing, your Majesty.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And your silence is deafening.”

“When you said you were opening Wakanda to the world, this is not what I imagined.”

T’Challa shook his head. “What did you imagine?”

“The Olympics,” Okoye continued. “Maybe even a Starbucks.”

“You see, bhuti? I am not the only one!”

T’Chall sighed the long-suffering sigh only achievable by an older sibling, African King, and leader of what was about to be the global resistance of an alien incursion bent on genocide. “Shuri, the world is ending. I do not have time to book Beyonce.”

“Now might be the only time!” Shuri wailed. 

“Well, if the aliens ask us to take them to our leader, I will know where to find her.” 

Shuri stopped her whining and dead in her tracks. “…Did you just make a Queen Bey joke?”

“Maybe it was a Queen bae joke, eh?” T’Challa nodded to his wife, and sent his elbow into his sister's ribs. 

Shuri groaned.

Nakia only kissed him. “Never speak again.”