Chapter 50: Chapter 50: Get Your Weight Up.
Tuesday November 27th, 2020. Wakanda.
Brontë had never been to boot camp. Most kids wouldn't ever want to go— dream of going. But like his biological father, Bronte was weak as a child. Frail. It kept him from experiencing the joys of shared physical exertion with likeminded folks.
For the past week he'd made up for that loss and then some. T'Challa seemed like a kind and calm King. But once training commenced he turned into a different person. Like Daken, he knew what to say and how to move to get your head in a space between life and death. Training felt real. To a degree it could be when most of them could heal from fatal wounds.
There was no room to misunderstand what they were preparing for.
War.
***
"In the water there's a lot of ground to cover. Not just on a flat plane either. You have to worry about depth. Now, if we find ourselves on their turf— in the ocean. We're already dead. This exercise is to teach you not to die without a fight. We're warriors, not sheep." T'Challa's voice boomed from a loudspeaker as they all waited in the forest.
It's where they'd been for the past week.
Brontë, Daken, Laura, Gabbie, Raze, Gentle and Azari.
"Sheep…. Fuck I'm hungry." Raze growled and bit a chunk out of a tree.
"Shut up." Daken spat and pointed to his ear.
Slowly every other Mutant with enhanced senses caught the whistling sound from above.
"Take cover!" Daken began shoving people.
Brontë caught his toned arms as they connected with his chest and spun him around, throwing him along with everyone else.
"That Ragdoll shits for the birds." Bronte thought before facing his team and sending a massive gust of wind at them as they ran.
Laura in all her nimble grace ran on the winds as the others flipped and tumbled through the vast greenery.
By the time the Vibranium artillery shell hit, they were far out of range. Then again, maybe not.
Either way, Bronte was no more than ten feet from the glowing purple metal sphere. And so was Gentle. His muscle content and Vibranium tattoos made him too dense.
The two looked at eachother before facing the bomb.
"You can't be seriou—"
His words were cut short as a massive pulse of radiant energy exploded from the artillery shells surface. Brontë and Gentle were sent flying through the jungle as the blast wave severed trees and scalped rivers with an ungodly intensity.
When his world finally stopped spinning and his hearing returned, the sounds of his muscles knitting themselves back together filled the silence.
He got to his feet in a rush, stopping only to rip a sharp branch out of his stomach. Gentle fought off a gag as he limped over to him.
"Yo, you deadass?" Bronte snarled.
"What?" Gentle brought his hands up as they stood in the leveled remains of the jungle. His muscles caused portions of his Vibranium panther suit to glow in response to the strain.
"WHY did you stay? Who stands in front of a bomb willingly?!"
Gentle pointed at Bronte, "I stayed because you did."
"Man I don't swing that way cut it out."
Gentle shook his head and pointed out to the dead leveled jungle. Dirt and smoke still hung on the air like dull colored ghosts. He half expected to see an apparition of Bast.
"The Bomb was to disorient and split us up. You threw everyone out of the way which was heroic, but not very tactically sound. You've made that play a lot this week."
Brontë ran a hand through his dreads, "Right…."
Moisture in the air filled his nostrils and made his sweat feel cakey on his muscles.
He wasn't the smartest but if he got the pieces to the puzzle, he could put it together eventually.
"What?" Gentle caught on as Bronte's eyes went white.
"Water. A lot. They're gonna drown us." He flew towards the skies, scenting the fresh flowery herbs on her skin and cocoa butter in her hair.
He pushed the winds at his feet to speed him up as he entered the Storm-Sta—
A flash of white blinded him, followed by his nerves locking in place and a hole being burned through his chest. His veins felt like they were on fire.
When he opened his eyes he was back on the dirt floor, steaming as if he just walked through fire.
Ororo didn't want him interrupting. What exactly? He was watching it from above.
A tsunami. A controlled destructive wave of water. She rode the helm of the waves like a water goddess, uncaring and unaffected by the team scattered below.
"OH FUCK! POOL PARTY HHAHAGA!!!!" Raze's voice echoed in the distance.
"Come here!" Bronte yanked Gentle over to him as he was pulling on his cowl and began focusing heavy winds around them.
He could feel Ororo's magic in the droplets of water that landed on his hair and face. It was hot and sweet. It made controlling the winds easier to his surprise.
So much so that he hadn't even noticed he was fine even so many feet below water. The ball of wind sustained. His hair moved with the vortexing ebb and flow as shapes zipped and dashed through the water.
A underwater combat scenario.
"You ready?" Gentle questioned, now looking like Black Panther if he was on copious amounts of steroids.
Brontë popped his claws and sent the powerful winds cutting through the water.
The two of them were durable enough to take the pressure of the water hitting them and went to work.
Well, work was subjective.
They had no underwater tech other than the built in respirator in Gentles mask. Brontë flew in and out of the water, giving Gentle speed while inside. Which was hard to manage.
They were fast.
"RGNNNN!!" He growled beneath the dirty waves as a spear tip bit into his back.
He dashed forward in the water, pulling the person who's stabbed him along before stopping in a rush. Their body smashed into his own. He could feel armor and bones crack.
As the Marine Wakandan Warrior sank, three more circled him like sharks. He didn't have the lung capacity to take them all fast enough.
The glow of his white hair brightened. Bubbles surged like a geyser as he took the three of them to the surface with him in an upward blast.
As they fell, he flew at them one by one, sending devastating blows to the head. They hit the water like props.
He swam below to find Gentle laying on the pseudo ocean floor.
"Bronte…. I've been meaning to face you." T'Challa— no, The Black Panther swam soundlessly around him.
His suit blended into the ocean darkness perfectly, leaving only his menacing dark purple eyes truly visible. Along with the metallic sheen of his extended claws and bladed fins running along his forearms and calves.
"I fought your father many times. We didn't get along on a lot of things. He bested me a few times— never when it mattered. The prospect of you growing to his level of experience with your current power set is a scary thought. And all kings must face fear head on." Black Panther took a fighting stance as he floated in the water.
Brontë's claws steamed with the electricity that ran across them. The waters around him sparked. He swung, sending a triple lined arc of lightning at the Black Panther.
He blocked the elemental blast, absorbing the impact and sending it back in a purple shockwave.
Brontë flipped through the water before gaining his balance and flying to the surface. He needed ai—
Somehow Black Panther swam face to face with him.
"Not so fas—"
Brontë ran his claws through the shape only to find it was a hologram.
"Water dulls the senses." A fist connected with the back of his neck, stunning him, followed by a hand grabbing his hair and yanking him back down to the ocean floor.
"Namor will use this against you and your siblings. The same way I will now."
Brontë hit the ocean floor, right next to Gentle.
"Get up Bronte, I haven't even begun to show you what Romulus will do to you."
"You don't have to." Bronte burst into flames beneath the water.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone