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LUKE CAGE
Let's get something straight: I don't trust the government. My real name isn't even Luke Cage. And that's not just black paranoia, either; I got my first taste of the criminal justice system by getting sent to Seagate Penitentiary for a crime I didn't commit, just like a lot of black people. And like many black folks in history I was illegally experimented on. The experiment was done by one of those Weapon X nutjobs that are always trying to recreate the Super Soldier program. Lucky for me, the experiment worked a little too well -- I guess they didn't realize that making an inmate super strong and bulletproof was a good way to help him break out of prison.
Recent developments at SHIELD have not boosted my confidence. Colonel Nick Fury was removed from command after the failed invasion of Latveria. The brother might have been ice cold -- Captain America told me that Fury once strangled a dude with his own intestines -- but he was a practical sort of asshole; he knew that not every fight was a hill to die on. This new girl running SHIELD? Bitch worships authority. Aggressive and uncompromising, Director Maria Hill has not endeared herself to the Avengers at all.
With my car busted to hell I end up taking the subway to Midtown. SHIELD has a cozy little office in the United Nations building. I walk under the flags, taking special note of the newly added red and green flag of Wakanda.
"Luke Cage." a deep accented voice rumbles behind me, almost making me jump out of my skin. I turn around and...holy shit. The young brother is wearing a simple black African-style dashiki suit, with a loose gold necklace adorned with the claws and teeth of jungle cats. He is flanked by the Dora Milaje, two tough-looking female bodyguards, their clean shaved heads shining in the morning sun.
"Uh...Hello, your Highness." I bow my head a little bit. Yeah I'm American, but Black Panther wasn't just the King of Wakanda, he was an inspiring symbol for black people of all nations. King T'Challa bows his head back to me in mutual respect.
"I understand that you are something of a mercenary." His baritone voice carried weight and power.
"Nah. I'm more like a mix between a private investigator and a bodyguard."
"I would like to hire your services."
"Sure. Hell yeah. What can I do for you, king?"
He didn't answer me, his eyes went back up to contemplate the flag of his country adorning the United Nations building. "Wakanda has long isolated itself from the world, to both its benefit, and its detriment."
"What do you mean?" I ask, genuinely interested. In school, all they teach us about Wakanda is that its the place where the metal in Captain America's shield comes from. It was pretty much the only African country that had never been conquered or colonized, so it was still rich with resources and rare metals.
"For centuries, the Black Panther has acted as a sentinel against European invaders and plunderers. During the second World War, Captain America attempted to stop the Axis from stealing our sacred metals. It was during this mission that he met my father."
"They teamed up to fight the Nazis?" I asked, fascinated with this new bit of black history I had never heard before.
"No. My father had already decapitated the Nazis that Captain America was tracking. But this incident was the catalyst that prompted my father to take a larger interest in the world. Inspired by the Meiji Restoration in Japan, he sent many Wakandan students such as myself abroad to study in the best Western universities, and bring that knowledge back home with us. My people do not like this outside influence on our culture. We have rapidly modernized and industrialized, but they grow unhappy with my reforms."
"However," T'Challa paused as we reached the steps of the building, turning to face me with his hands clasped behind his back. "Not all of the growing discontent towards my reign is organic, Mr. Cage. There is a remnant of the Third Reich that has survived into the modern day. They have rebuilt themselves as a Secret Empire, a malignant tumor growing within many of the institutions that originally defeated them."
I grit my teeth as the anger washes over me. "Hydra..." I whisper.
"The very same. King T'Challa soberly nods.
I turn around to give the United Nations building a more skeptical glance. "You're saying they've infiltrated SHIELD?"
"They have their sights set on my country's vast deposits of sacred metals, and no doubt they would see destabilizing a successful African nation as an added bonus to their racialist agenda."
"So what do you need me to do?"
"It will be very simple and enjoyable work. You and I are going to turn Hydra's notions of racial supremacy on its head."
***********
G.W. Bridge is waiting for us. Unlike the other SHIELD personnel walking around in their dark blue tactical jumpsuits, the silver-haired black man is wearing a simple shirt and tie. I have a lot of respect for the tough old bastard; a Vietnam veteran and former mercenary, he's the guy SHIELD sent after both the Punisher and Cable in recent memory, earning him a reputation as a "Cape-Buster" or "Cape-Killer" for his ability to take down costumed superhumans during the Registration fiasco. Although not many of us wear capes anymore, but whatever, the name still stuck.
"Commander Bridge." T'Challa inclined his head in a regal gesture. "I have a meeting with Director Hill."
Bridge cleared his throat. "Yes, your Highness. I just have to debrief Mr. Cage here on a local matter and then we can see you."
"I am well aware of Mr. Cage's auxiliary narcotics investigation. I have information pertaining to it. Director Hill will see me now."
I tried not to look too surprised that Black Panther already knew that SHIELD had contracted Heroes For Hire to look into the Chinatown heroin ring. The brother managed to out espionage the best spies in the world? Damn, they don't call him the most dangerous man alive for nothing!
Bridge scratched at his stubble before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Inshallah," he mutters in Arabic. I guess he converted to Islam back in the Malcolm X days.
"You have followed your orders to the best of your ability, Commander Bridge. Perhaps the Director thought she could buy some time by assigning an African-American SHIELD operative to stonewall me. But no barrier can withstand siege forever."
Maria Hill was sitting at her desk, looking like she was reading some emails as we walked in. She was an attractive white woman but her dark hair was cut a little too short for my tastes, cut in that hairstyle that almost every female politician has when they want to be taken seriously by their male counterparts. Rather than go for business casual, Hill was wearing a dark blue tactical suit adorned with a golden eagle insignia on her chest and an American flag on one of her shoulders. She looked like she would have been more comfortable in a warzone command center rather than an office building in Manhattan.
She looked between us, and addressed me first. "You get the dirt on the Hand, Cage?"
