I didn't have to engage T'Challa for long. Before I knew it, he stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he recognized that I wouldn't let him pursue Bucky and Steve without a fight. A flicker of grudging respect crossed his face, and he offered a subtle nod, as if to acknowledge my resolve.

With a final, defiant hiss in his direction, I pivoted and darted after Steve and Bucky. My senses heightened, adrenaline coursed through me, sharpening my instincts to a razor's edge. I followed their scent, a mix of sweat and determination, down into the shadowy depths of an underpass.

The chaos of the chase escalated around me; cars veered wildly, tires screeching against asphalt, horns blaring like frantic sirens in the night. I sprinted, my body low and agile, weaving through the mayhem. The world became a blur of headlights and shadows as I pushed forward, every muscle primed to defend my friends against whatever threat lurked ahead.

The flashing lights from the police cars cast harsh blue shadows across the rain-slicked pavement. I found myself backed into a corner, with three patrol vehicles forming a barrier while War Machine hovered above, his armor gleaming under the streetlights. My enhanced senses picked up every whir and click of his suit's mechanisms.

Steve and Bucky emerged from behind the police cars, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief. I let out a warning hiss, my tail lashing back and forth like a whip. The sound made all three men tense – even through War Machine's armor, I could sense Rhodey's unease.

"Don't, Kira, please," Rhodey's voice came through his suit's speakers, softer than I expected. "We can talk this out."

My tail slashed through the air again, and I felt my pupils narrow to slits. "You shouldn't have signed, Rhodey," I spat the words out, each syllable dripping with betrayal. "The Accords were never about protection. They were about control."

Rhodey sighed, his gaze steady. "You may be right, but still—it's best if we get put on leashes, for everyone's safety."

I snarled, my tail lashing against the floor, the sharp sound echoing through the room. "I am not something you leash, Rhodey. I'm a monster, remember?" My voice came out low and feral, a reminder of the beast I was trained to be—and the one I chose to unleash only when necessary.

Rhodey's eyes flickered with a mix of caution and sympathy, but he didn't back down. "No one's saying you're a monster, Kira. Just...that some things might need more control. For everyone's good."

I let out a low growl, the urge to fight against this talk of restraints clawing at me.

A sharp laugh escaped me, bitter and cold. "More control? Like the control HYDRA had over Bucky?" My gaze flickered to the Winter Soldier, who flinched at my words. "Or maybe like the 'control' they had over me in that lab? Tell me, Rhodey, how many more experiments do you think they'll run on us once we're all properly tagged and leashed?"

War Machine's armor whirred as he shifted his stance. "That's not fair, Kira. The Accords aren't HYDRA—"

"No?" I cut him off, my claws extending instinctively. "Then why does it feel exactly the same? Registration. Monitoring. Containment. Pretty words for ugly things." The shadows around us seemed to deepen, responding to my growing anger. "Steve understands. Don't you, Cap?"

Steve Rogers stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Kira's right, Rhodes. We've seen how this starts. Good intentions paving the way to hell."

"The world is scared," Rhodey countered, his voice strained. "After Sokovia, after Lagos—"

"The world should be scared," I hissed, my eyes glowing in the darkness. "But not of us. Of what happens when you cage something that's meant to be free."

I dipped low, my gaze unwavering. "Black Panther might be angry at Bucky because he thinks he 'killed' his parents, but I'm not." My voice was sharp, resolute. Bucky wasn't my enemy, and I wasn't about to let anyone paint him as one—not even a king seeking vengeance.

Rhodey watched me with careful eyes, as if weighing my words, but I didn't flinch. My loyalty to those who'd fought by my side, who'd saved me from a life of darkness, was stronger than any threat or accusation.

"Bucky was a weapon, just like I was," I continued, my voice carrying an edge of raw understanding. "But unlike T'Challa, I know what it's like to have your choices stripped away. To be turned into something you never wanted to be." My tail curled protectively as memories of my own past threatened to surface.

Steve moved closer to Bucky, whose face had gone pale with remembered pain. The Winter Soldier's metal arm whirred softly in the tense silence.

"You don't understand, Kira," Rhodey tried again, his armor gleaming under the street lights. "T'Challa lost his father—"

"And I lost everything!" My voice cracked like a whip. "My humanity, my freedom, my chance at a normal life. But you don't see me hunting down every HYDRA scientist's family for revenge." I straightened up, my eyes glowing with intensity. "The difference is, I know who's really responsible. And it's not the other victims."

Bucky's voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. "Kira, you don't have to—"

"Yes, I do," I cut him off, my gaze still locked with Rhodey's. "Because someone needs to remember what it means to be the weapon, not just the one wielding it."

Rhodey sighed and swallowed, his voice softer but edged with urgency. "Please," he said, searching my gaze. "What do you think Tony would say?" He glanced over at Sam, who stood nearby, arms crossed, a wary look in his eyes.

Sam nodded, his voice gentler but firm. "Kira, we're just asking you to think it through. Tony wouldn't want anyone rushing headfirst into danger, especially not when emotions are running high. He'd want us to act smart."

I felt a pang at the mention of Tony. He'd always been the voice of reason, the one who balanced out our impulses.

My claws retracted slightly, but the tension in my body remained. "Tony..." I let out a bitter laugh. "Tony would be trying to fix everything with tech and quips right now." The memory of his rapid-fire problem-solving and sardonic humor made my chest ache. "But Tony's not here, is he? And maybe that's part of the problem."

I took a step forward, causing Rhodey to tense in his suit. "You want to talk about what Tony would want? He'd want us to protect each other. Not sign away our rights to people who see us as weapons first and people second." My voice softened slightly. "He'd be trying to find a better way, Sam. Not just accepting the first solution thrown at us by people who don't understand what we are or what we do."

"Tony also believes in accountability," Rhodey countered, though his voice had lost some of its edge. "He's seen what unchecked power can do—"

"And I've seen what happens when that power gets put in the wrong hands," I cut in, my tail wrapping around my leg. "Don't you get it? This isn't about avoiding responsibility. It's about keeping our ability to choose when and how to help." I looked between Sam and Rhodey, letting my guard down just enough to show the pain behind my anger. "Tony taught me that with great power comes great responsibility. But he never said anything about letting others decide how to use it."

I lashed my tail, stepping closer to where Bucky and Steve stood, a silent declaration that I was shielding them with every inch of my own body. "Just try and take me," I growled, my voice low and unwavering, "and you'll be facing claws." My gaze was fierce, daring anyone to test my resolve.

Rhodey and Sam exchanged a tense glance, but neither of them moved. They understood, at least on some level, that I wasn't about to let anything happen to my packmates—not while I still had the strength to fight.

"You're really willing to fight us?" Sam's voice held a note of sadness. "Your own teammates?"

My lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth. "I'm willing to fight anyone who tries to cage us. Teammate, friend, or stranger - it doesn't matter." The shadows around us seemed to pulse with my words. "I've spent enough time in chains, Sam. Never again."

Steve's hand brushed my shoulder, a gentle touch that spoke volumes. Behind me, I could feel Bucky's presence, solid and understanding. They knew what it meant to stand against friends for what you believed in.

"We don't want to hurt you, Kira," Rhodey said, his armor humming as he shifted position. "But we can't just let you—"

"Let me?" A dangerous laugh escaped my throat. "That's exactly the problem, Rhodey. You think you need to 'let' us do anything." My tail whipped through the air, a warning slash. "I'm not asking for permission to be free. I'm telling you that if you try to take that freedom, you'll learn exactly why HYDRA kept me in a reinforced cell."

Then I heard something—a soft, steady footfall—and turned to see T'Challa approaching us. His expression was somber, his usual regal bearing shadowed by grief and weariness. He looked at us, at Bucky in particular, with a sadness that seemed to weigh on him heavily.

He paused, taking in the sight of me standing protectively in front of Steve and Bucky. For a moment, none of us spoke, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. T'Challa's gaze softened slightly, but there was a depth to his sorrow that words couldn't touch.

My muscles coiled tighter, but I didn't move from my protective stance. "Your Highness," I said, the formal address carrying an edge of warning. "Here to finish what you started in Bucharest?"

T'Challa's eyes met mine, and I saw something shift in them—recognition, perhaps, of a familiar pain. "I have been..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "pursuing vengeance with such singular focus that I may have lost sight of justice."

"Justice?" I kept my voice level, but my tail twitched with barely contained emotion. "Was it justice when they strapped me to a table and turned me into this? When they wiped Bucky's mind over and over until he couldn't remember his own name?" My claws extended slightly. "Or is justice only for kings and their grief?"

"Kira," Steve's voice came soft behind me, but I wasn't finished.

"You lost your father," I acknowledged, my voice softening just slightly. "And that pain is real. But Bucky lost decades of his life. His choices. His humanity." I met T'Challa's gaze steadily. "So tell me, Your Highness, where's the justice in hunting a victim?"