The Neighbor

Chapter 97

The sound of war is deafening.

The moment Natasha and Yelena burst out of the lab, they are met with chaos, pure, unrelenting chaos. The sky above Wakanda is ablaze, the protective energy shields flickering under the sheer force of the incoming attack. The distant city beyond the mountains is already under siege, smoke rising in thick, curling plumes, staining the sky in shades of destruction.

And yet, they don't stop running.

Their feet pound against the vibranium bridge, boots hitting the stone with precision, with urgency, with absolute purpose. Natasha's heart hammers against her ribs, her muscles already tensing, already preparing for battle as she moves in perfect synchronicity with Yelena beside her.

Ahead of them the others are already assembling.

Steve stands at the front, his vibranium shield gleaming beneath the flickering red emergency lights, his stance unshaken, immovable, unyielding. His face is set in stone, eyes locked on the battlefield ahead, but there is something in them, something dangerous, something determined.

To his right, Sam adjusts his wings, his mechanical jetpack already powered up, the steel reflecting against the ominous sky. His fingers twitch against the grips of his pistols, his jaw tight, bracing for impact.

Beside him, Bucky stands silently, his vibranium arm flexing at his side, fingers curling and uncurling in anticipation. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes say everything, focused, razor-sharp, ready to tear through anything that comes their way.

Further down the line, Carol is already hovering above the ground, her body pulsating with golden, crackling energy, her fists clenched, ready to unleash devastation. She doesn't blink, doesn't falter, because she never does.

Clint stands a few steps back, an arrow already knocked into his bow, fingers steady, gaze sweeping the battlefield with the calculating precision of a sniper. Next to him, Bruce Banner is breathing heavily, his form already shifting, his skin rippling as the Hulk pushes through, green overtaking his veins, his muscles flexing in preparation for what's coming.

T'Challa.

The King of Wakanda stands at the center of it all, calm, poised, commanding. His Black Panther suit absorbs the dim light, the silver vibranium accents gleaming as he takes slow, measured steps forward. His golden eyes sweep over his warriors, his people, and he nods once, his expression unreadable but resolute.

His Dora Milaje warriors stand flanking him, their vibranium spears planted firmly into the ground, their postures unwavering, their faces set with unshakable resolve.

And behind them, stretching far into the distance, the Wakandan army stands like a wall, a sea of warriors ready to fight for their home, for their people, for everything they have built.

Natasha and Yelena fall into place, sliding seamlessly into the formation, their weapons drawn, their hearts pounding in tandem with the pulsing war drums beginning to sound across the battlefield.

A deep, thundering horn echoes through the valley, signaling the arrival of the enemy.

And there on the horizon, they emerge.

Thanos' army spills into view, descending like a dark tide, their massive warships looming overhead, their foot soldiers marching in perfect unison, stretching as far as the eye can see. The ground itself trembles beneath their weight, the air growing thick with the promise of bloodshed.

A deep, gravelly voice cuts through the silence. "Wakanda Forever."

T'Challa's voice booms across the battlefield, unwavering, unafraid, a declaration, a promise.