↱ T'CHALLA↲
The King sat by the Winter Soldier's resting place, dark eyes unfocused. Not even Captain Rogers knew about the Black Panther's irregular visits to his best friend. He never would admit it, but T'Challa often found himself crumbling from the weight of ruling a country as great as Wakanda. For the most part, he had been prepared, but... With a gentle sigh, the African king buried his face in his hands.

"How am I supposed to manage a shining country, when I am supposed to be a warrior of the shadows?" he murmured, the question directed at a sleeping, peaceful Barnes. The harsher edges of his face were smoothed by his icy slumber, the shadows slowly managing to fade away. The man looked younger, much younger than he was. T'Challa could very well see the man the Archangel had fallen in love with, as well as the man she had killed with, when he looked at James Barnes on this day.

Victoria, herself, was practicing with Mr. Wilson. The woman had not truly adapted to having actual wings, and that was where the Falcon came in. It was, slightly, different seeing as Sam's wings were mechanical, and the Archangel's were actually connected to her body, but that didn't stop them. T'Challa himself had never seen the woman be nervous about something, but the few times he had chosen to watch her slowly gain altitude, that had changed.

A quiet, soothing tone came on. It was coming from his phone, T'Challa realized, and the man nimbly took the object out of his pocket. The contact on the screen read, "Ms. Romanoff." The king quickly pressed the 'accept' button.

"There are rumors of a not so normal tourist in your country," the woman said, immediately. T'Challa smiled, used to her lack of ability to beat around the bush. Then, the news registered. "Do you have any information on them, Ms. Romanoff?" he asked hastily, standing up from the chair. T'Challa easily made his way out of the room, trying to hide the spurt of anxiety that had bloomed in his chest. He still had the vault, full of strategies to defeat every known hero and villain. But with so many, it would take days to find the one he needed.

"They're considered an 'antihero.' People know him as the Dark Knight. The most personal information I can get is 1, he has a horse and that 2, his first name is Jack," Natasha replied. T'Challa could hear the quieted sound of typing as the woman undoubtedly tried to get more information on the Dark Knight. After a moment of walking, the line disconnected.

T'Challa, purely out of respect, knocked on Captain Roger's door. For the most part, the man spent his days trying to clear the Sergeant's name, but no matter what, he always appreciated a mission. Unfortunately, bandits and thieves appeared on the Wakandan radar more than the Black Panther cared to admit. Normally, he himself would take care of these issues; but as a king, he had very little time to suit up and fight criminals anymore. That was something he did not have in common with the outlaws he had chosen to harbor.

The door opened promptly, revealing a clean-shaven Steve Rogers. He looked like he had been up for a while now, which was good news. Steven didn't really understand the meaning of "sleeping in," as they had all discovered.

"What's up?"

"There's been a report of an antihero in Wakanda, Mr. Rogers. I would take care of it myself, but I have too much business on my hands," T'Challa explained calmly, slyly glancing behind the large blond at the multiple papers that were askew on the desk that accompanied Mr. Rogers's room. "They got any habits I should know about?" Steve called, immediately moving to recover his suit. He stared at it, a moment, before actually picking it up. He no longer had the shield, as T'Challa was aware, but Steve was surprisingly adjustable when it came to weaponry.

"Your friend, Ms. Romanoff, could not find very much on this person. She could only tell me that he is called the Dark Knight, they have an equine companion, and their first name is Jack. I apologize for only being able to give you minuscule details."

Steve nodded, beginning to recover weaponry hidden amongst the room. T'Challa distantly thought that the Captain must've been spending a lot of time with Mr. Barnes. The King acutely remembered finding a grand total of 24 hidden weapons on Barnes's persona, which had taken a painstakingly long time to recover. Who knew assassins knew how to make pockets?

T'Challa turned away, as Rogers closed the door. His thoughts wandered to the Archangel, who would definitely be needed. An aerial view on an, ultimately, grounded adversary was ideal. The King lost himself in thought, only just registering that Steve had opened the door again. "Who do you want me to call?" Steve asked, voice professional as he easily closed the door behind him. The Captain had, unsurprisingly, chosen the smallest room available.

T'Challa already had a mental list, fortunately.

"Victoria, if her flight skills have bettered. Clint, as well. Swords are made for close combat, therefore proving Mr. Barton's archery skills to be helpful. Ms. Maximoff will, unfortunately, have to restrict most likely both rider and steed," the King finished, calmly. Mr. Rogers seemed unsurprised by the list, and with a crisp nod, turned away from the King and began his journey towards the training area, that now seemed to have an aerial division.

↱STEVEN↲

The Captain - everyone still called him that, despite the fact he was no longer Captain America - watched from a distance as his team of outlaws practiced. He, himself, had not yet taken it upon himself to do so, desperately researching for anything to help Bucky's case. That task alone tended to occupy his mind, but when needed, the man knew how to dutifully divide his attention.

The silent, intimidating sound of Victoria working her new gift drew his attention, as he watched in inexplicable awe. His mouth hung slightly agape as he slowly but surely became entranced with the movement of the wide, dark pair of wings as they fanned out. 70 or so years ago, if someone had told him that his best friend would be a winged former assassin, he would've punched them square in the face. As a matter of fact, he still probably would.

The wings were muscular, in their own way. The ink black feathers only accentuated her pale skin tone, her skin flawless as she spiraled and dipped and turned through the air. Oh, how he wished Bucky could've been here. He would've fell in love with the girl all over again.

A gentle nudge in his side shifted his attention, and the Captain turned his head to face the shorter woman beside him. Her dark, red hair was no longer red - a change no one had really been ready for. It was, as Natasha had called it, a mousy brown color. Steve would just call it brown, but then again, his knowledge on the seeming variety of hair colors was limited. It was cropped short, leaving Natasha near unrecognizable. However, one could still identify her by her signature smirk, that could only be perfected by Natasha Romanoff.  "She's got a pair, that's for sure," Natasha began, eyes curious as the duo observed Sam tried to catch up with the Archangel, but to no avail. It put a smile on Steve's face.

"Unfortunately, I can't stay and watch those two play Birds and Robbers. T'Challa asked us to check someone out, so... Scott, Wilson, Barton, Maximoff, suit up!"

                                  ⇆⇆⇆
Steve was running at a dead sprint, Victoria and Sam soaring above him. "I've got eyes on the Dark Knight, Steve, and that horse is fast," Victoria informed him, swooping lower. The rustle of her feathers was practically nonexistent. Steve nodded, glancing behind him at Wanda, who nodded as well. "Corral 'em, flap your wings, Vic. Scare the horse. Sam, keep 'em still if Vic can't. Clint, Wanda, your job is to focus on the medieval guy. Use your strongest arrows," Steve instructed, nimbly leaping over a fallen tree. His feet hit the ground running, propelling him forward so quickly the green of the forest had started to blur together. Steve had forgotten his helmet, leaving his shocking blond hair mussed and frizzy from the humidity of the jungle.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Steve squinted. Though muffled, the unmistakable sound of hooves pounding against the soil of the tropical forest was heard. He urged Sam and Victoria on silently, their flight becoming inaudible as the two glided through the hanging mist. There was an impossible vibrancy that came with the scenery of Wakanda, something that tended to overload his senses. For this, though, when the Archangel - his best friend, that he had already lost nearly 2 times now - was on the field, he couldn't allow that to happen.

The panicked whinnies of the said horse caused Steve to slow his pace, as he nimbly flipped out the curved blade he had acquired. He wasn't the best, but he had picked up something from Bucky's knife flipping days. Steve gripped it firmly, pushing forward as the trees began to thin out into a flatter, smoother terrain. Victoria's powerful wings seemed to be making wind all by themselves, effectively startling the jet black stallion. It reared on its hind legs, nearly throwing off its armored rider.

"¡Para!" the person called, voice muffled by their mask. "Get off the horse and maybe we can talk!" Victoria yelled, maneuvering sharply. The wings nearly brushed the top of the Dark Knight's head, only making the stallion more panicked. Wanda began working her magic, the red ribbons of energy snaking their way up the Dark Knight's legs. With a quick pull on an invisible rope, the person was sent flying off of the horse, landing harshly in the dirt.

Victoria immediately grounded herself, working her own magic with the animal. Apparently, T'Challa had also forgotten to inform him there was more than one reason that he wanted Victoria to go with the team. The horse eventually became calm, letting the woman pat the side of its neck firmly. In the meanwhile, Sam and Wanda had already managed to tie up the Knight, who was on his knees, silent.

Steve stood a good distance away from the knight, legs sore from all the running. "Take off the helmet," he instructed, weakly, hiding the blade within the sheath.

Sam nodded, "My pleasure, Captain," and began the process of tugging off the dark mask to reveal the man within...

Wait a minute. That isn't a man.

A/N:
Jack is lowkey a feminist or so I would think since I cREATED HER AND ALL