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Every time T’Challa announces his trip to New York, the familiar ritual begins. His sister simply won’t let up. She begs, she pleads, she turns on her famous puppy-dog eyes; and when all that fails, she doesn’t hesitate to resort to blackmailing her older brother. “Please, brother, take me with you!” he hears her say before he’s even had a chance to start packing his bag.
And, as always, T’Challa gives in. He simply cannot truly resist her. With a resigned sigh, he nods and instantly, her eyes light up like the very city lights of the metropolis they are headed for.
Yet both of them know full well that she doesn’t give a whit about all the political business calling him to the city. The endless meetings, the diplomatic talks, the ceremonial obligations, none of it matters to her in the slightest. No sooner have they landed than she vanishes.
Her true destination is Stark Tower. It is there - amidst humming machinery and flashing screens that she feels truly at home in this city. The “Chaos Lab,” as she affectionately calls it, may not be nearly as technologically advanced as her own laboratory back in Wakanda, but in a different way, it is a paradise for her. Here, she spends her time with Peter and the other “normal” interns, tinkering away at projects, laughing at inside jokes, and losing all track of time.
However, in doing so, she often forgets one crucial little detail: Peter has to go to school. While she enjoys the privilege of being tutored by private instructors, a flexible arrangement tailored to her royal schedule and personal interests. Peter remains stuck in a perfectly ordinary classroom in Queens. He has a fixed class schedule, homework assignments, and mandatory attendance.
“Where’s Peter?” she usually asks, looking bewildered, whenever she can’t track him down anywhere within the Tower. Eventually, the other interns got used to having to explain to her every time that he has regular classes.
This time, she arrives at the Tower on a Wednesday. By now, she has grown accustomed to the fact that, on many days, five days a week, in fact, Peter is not at the Tower during the mornings; a strange rhythm for someone hailing from Wakanda, where education and research go hand in hand. Consequently, she has fallen into the habit of asking FRIDAY to let her know whenever Peter arrives at the Tower. It has become something of a ritual. A silent agreement between her and the artificial intelligence.
When FRIDAY confirms, in her gentle, modulated voice, that Peter is currently located in one of the lower-level labs, a mixture of astonishment and delight washes over Shuri. Her eyes light up. He’s already here? On a Wednesday? That is unusual.
Accompanied by her bodyguard, she takes the elevator down. The metal walls of the lift reflect her face as the floors slide past. While it is indeed odd that Peter would be found in such a low-level, basic laboratory, he typically works in the state-of-the-art sections where the truly interesting projects take place. Perhaps one of the junior interns had asked him for assistance. That would be just like Peter. He is always ready to help, sometimes to a fault.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft hiss, revealing a room filled with teenagers. Shuri blinks in surprise. *What...?* She steps out of the elevator hesitantly, her footsteps cautious and quiet. Her bodyguard follows her like a shadow. Discreet, yet vigilant.
She notices one of the scientists, a middle-aged man wearing glasses and a lab coat, standing amidst the teenagers, who are gathered in a loose group; some appear attentive, while others stare blankly at their phones, looking bored.
Shuri looks around, her eyes scanning the crowd. Then she spots him, Peter, standing at the very back of the group. He stands slightly apart, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, his head bowed slightly. Something about his posture seems... tense and wrong.
A smile spreads across Shuri’s face, and she is just about to sneak closer when she sees another teenager, a tall boy with broad shoulders and an arrogant smirk, shove Peter to the ground. The shove isn't playful. It is hard, mean, intentional.
Peter stumbles, catching himself just before he falls completely. Some of the other teenagers snicker. And the teacher, a woman with her hair pulled back severely, sees it. Shuri is absolutely certain the woman saw it. But she does nothing. She doesn't even avert her gaze; instead, she simply looks right through Peter, as if he were invisible. Rage flares in Shuri’s chest, hot and burning. Her hands clench into fists. She wants to confront the boy immediately. Wants to march right up to him and show him exactly what it means to mess with a Princess of Wakanda. But her bodyguard, Ayo, the seasoned Dora Milaje, places a hand gently yet firmly on her shoulder, holding her back.
"Princess," Ayo whispers to her, her voice barely more than a breath, "gather evidence. So that Stark can truly punish the teenagers and the teacher. That will be more effective."
Shuri hates it. She hates it with every fiber of her being, watching her friend suffer, standing by helplessly while someone humiliates him. But she knows Ayo is right. Evidence is always better than impulsive reactions. Evidence is irrefutable.
So they withdraw, quietly and unnoticed. The elevator doors close once more before them. Upon arriving at the Avengers floor, Shuri marches purposefully toward a room that most people there don't even know exists: the video surveillance room. The walls are lined with monitors displaying various areas of the Tower. Shuri takes her seat at the console, her fingers already flying across the keyboard.
"FRIDAY," she says in a firm voice, "I need access to all camera footage from Peter's field trip. Every second. Every angle."
"Of course, Princess Shuri," FRIDAY replies. "Streaming the feeds now."
The monitors flicker to life. Shuri leans forward, her eyes narrowing in concentration. She will document every moment, capture every injustice. And then, she will ensure that justice is served.
"FRIDAY," Shuri calls out, her voice a blend of curiosity and irritation, as she gazes at the holograms floating before her. "Why is Peter here with a group of teenagers in the first place? And who are these repulsive white colonizers bothering my favorite white boy?"
The AI’s gentle, synthetic voice fills the room. "One moment, Princess." FRIDAY projects the teenagers' guest data onto the holographic screens unfolding before Shuri’s eyes. With an elegant gesture, the AI pulls up additional information from social media: Instagram profiles, Facebook posts, Twitter feeds. All hovering before her in a digital dance.
"It is a field trip group from Midtown High School," FRIDAY explains with her characteristic precision. "This is Peter’s school, which is why he is on the excursion. Would you like to know more about Midtown High School?"
Shuri nods slowly, her dark eyes scanning the streams of data spreading out before her. Her fingers glide through the holograms, pulling profiles closer, zooming in on details. She reads through everything, line by line, profile by profile. Yet with every word she absorbs, her confusion grows. Her brow furrows.
"FRIDAY," she finally says, a skeptical undertone in her voice, "this data looks too... clean. No one is this nice. It’s not natural." She leans back and crosses her arms. "Can you dig deeper? I want to see the real information."
As FRIDAY sends her algorithms scouring the darker corners of the internet an Social Media, Shuri turns her attention to the live feed. Her eyes narrow as she observes the field trip group. There, amidst the other students, stands Peter. Her "Pety," as she affectionately calls him. But something isn't right.
It’s that teacher. A middle-aged woman with pursed lips and a look that instantly rubs Shuri the wrong way. The woman watches Peter with unconcealed anger in her eyes, as if he were personally responsible for all the world’s problems. And then, Shuri leans closer to the hologram, the teacher reprimands Peter. Over and over again. Shuri’s jaw tightens. She rewinds the footage, analyzing every scene with the precision of a scientist. Peter hasn’t done anything. Absolutely nothing. He just stands there, listening, trying to keep a low profile. And yet, he is constantly scolded, constantly criticized, constantly treated as a scapegoat.
“What the hell...” Shuri murmurs, her fingers clenching into fists. A dangerous glint enters her eyes.
Shuri sits at a monitor in the Avengers’ surveillance room, watching as groups of students make their way through the cafeteria in small clusters. Her fingers drum impatiently against the table. Enough. She has seen enough; she has heard enough. The evidence is damning.
With a decisive movement, she turns around. "We’re going," she says curtly. Her voice sounds steadier than she feels. Ayo rises immediately from her post, her presence simultaneously reassuring and strong.
The walk to the elevator feels endless to Shuri. Every step echoes in her ears. Her hands clench into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. A faint tremor runs through her body, not from fear, but from pure, unbridled rage. The injustice burns in her chest like fire.
Ayo’s warm hand rests gently yet firmly on her shoulder. The pressure is soothing, grounding. "Everything will be alright, my Princess," the warrior whispers, with that unshakable calm that all Dora Milaje eventually acquire.
The elevator doors slide open. The ride down seems to take an eternity.
As they enter the cafeteria, they are immediately met by the familiar hum. A cacophony of voices, laughter, and the clatter of cutlery against plates. The cafeteria is as lively as ever, a hive of human activity that never settles down. Shuri’s eyes systematically scan the room. There, she recognizes the faces of the field trip group. The teenagers are sitting together at several tables. But Peter? Her eyes wander further, growing increasingly desperate. And the teacher? Nowhere to be seen.
"Ayo, do you see Pety?" Her voice sounds more strained than she intended.
Ayo slowly shakes her head, her watchful eyes searching as well. Together, they move deeper into the room, their gazes sweeping silently over every corner, every table.
The effect is immediate. As soon as the first students notice them, conversations fall silent as if on command. A wave of silence spreads out. Then, after a heartbeat of tension, the whispering begins. Heads turn, glances are exchanged, hands drift to mouths.
Out of the corner of her eye, Shuri catches the movement, some students making gestures: inappropriate, disrespectful. Their hands form signs she shouldn't see, yet sees. Normally, she would react; she would show them exactly what it means to insult a Princess of Wakanda.
But not now. Not today.
She doesn't even flinch. Her focus is laser-like, locked onto a single mission: Find Peter. Everything else is secondary. Unimportant, irrelevant. The insults bounce off her like raindrops off vibranium.
She speaks to Friday in a low voice, her tone barely more than a whisper amidst the bustling atmosphere. The AI responds instantly; glowing arrows appear on the floor before her, pulsing gently as they guide her way. Her heart begins to beat faster as she follows the arrows, passing beneath the curious gazes of visitors and the skeptical stares of company employees.
The hallway beside the cafeteria is narrower than she expected; the walls seem to close in around her. Then she hears it, a shrill female voice echoing through the corridor, brimming with rage and contempt. Someone is being screamed at, and the words are so venomous that their toxicity can be felt even from a distance.
Shuri instinctively quickens her pace, her reinforced shoes clicking rhythmically against the floor. She slides around the corner, her hand brushing against the cool wall to steady herself. The scene that greets her makes her blood run cold, before that chill gives way to sheer, unadulterated hatred.
Peter stands with his back pressed tight against the wall, as if trying to vanish right into it. His shoulders are hunched high, his body shrinking in on itself. The teacher looms menacingly over him, her face flushed crimson, her mouth twisted into a hideous grimace. Spittle flies as she continues to scream at him, having long since lost all control.
She doesn't even seem to notice her own mouth moving, how the words simply come erupting out of her.
Peter is trembling, not violently, but visibly. His hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He stares at the teacher in shock, his eyes wide and disbelieving, as if he cannot fathom what is actually happening. He says nothing; he offers no defense, he simply stands there and endures it.
Shuri can barely restrain herself. Her rage boils over, hot and all-consuming. She storms onto the scene, her footsteps resolute and loud. But Ayo is even faster; the warrior moves with the precision and speed for which the Dora Milaje were trained. She surges forward, her hand shooting out to grab the teacher by the collar of her blouse. With one fluid motion, Ayo pulls the woman away from Peter, creating distance between the boy and his tormentor. The teacher stumbles, taken aback by the sudden intervention.
Shuri seizes the moment. She rushes to Peter, opening her arms to embrace him gently - cautiously, as if he might shatter. It is a stark contrast to her usual demeanor, for she typically treats him much more roughly, knowing he is nearly invulnerable. Her hands run over his shoulders and back, searching for injuries. "Are you hurt?" she asks urgently, her voice thick with concern, allowing her accent to shine through.
Peter shakes his head, but his gaze remains lowered. He does not look at Shuri. He cannot. Shame mingles with shock in his features.
"Peter, come on. We’re getting you away from her," Shuri says firmly, placing her hand on his arm, ready to lead him away. But Peter stops. His feet remain rooted to the spot. "I have to stay with the class," he murmurs, his voice thin and uncertain. "I’m on a field trip."
"Young man," she begins, her voice firm yet kind, "this woman and your classmates, are treating you like... forgive my choice of words... like dirt." She pauses, letting her words sink in. "You are on your own turf here. You hold a higher rank here than anyone who would hurt you. Stand up for yourself." The words hang in the air.
But the teacher quickly regains her composure. "The boy stays here!" she shrieks, her voice even shriller than before. She storms after them, her footsteps loud and furious. "Stop right there, damn it! You have no right to take him with you!" But the two women from Wakanda remain undeterred. With Peter walking between them, protected and flanked with determination. They continue on their way, away from the toxic situation, away from the woman who had so cruelly abused her supposed authority.
Shuri slowly lifts her gaze toward the ceiling, her eyes narrowing into thin slits. Anger seethes within her, yet her voice remains icily controlled. "FRIDAY," she pronounces the name with authority. "Please inform Dr. Cho that we are bringing someone to her. It is urgent." Then she looks at the students and adds something else, speaking slowly. "Please review all the footage from today; if you find anything that falls outside the established guidelines, report it to Happy immediately."
A murmur ripples through the cafeteria. Heads turn. Forks freeze halfway to open mouths. The other students stare at them with wide, startled eyes. Even the interns and scientists, who had merely been trying to enjoy their lunch, interrupt their conversations to look in their direction, some with curiosity, others with concern.
The teacher, however, reacts differently. Her face turns crimson. With a sudden, aggressive motion, she grabs Peter roughly by the arm and yanks him back. As she does so, her fingernails dig into his flesh.
Ayo reacts in a split second. The warrior moves with the speed and precision of a predator. Her spear shoots forward, and its cold Vibranium tip settles menacingly against the teacher’s throat. "Let go," Ayo hisses, her voice brooking no argument. Her eyes sparkle dangerously.
The cafeteria doors fly open. Happy Hogan storms in, followed by a dozen security guards in dark uniforms. His eyes scan the scene, and he grasps the situation instantly, the tense silence, Ayo’s spear, the frightened faces of the students, and Peter, standing pale and slumped over.
"All students in this class, with the exception of Peter Parker, will come with us now," Happy announces, his voice firm and darkened with rage. The security guards fan out and begin systematically rounding up the protesting students. The teacher tries to break free, but Happy steps up to her personally. "You’re coming with me," he says icily, leading her away with a firm grip. Her outraged screams fade into the hallways.
Shuri waits until the security detail has cleared the cafeteria of all the students. Then she turns to Peter. Her features soften, becoming etched with concern. Gently, she places her hand on his back and guides him toward the elevator. "Come on, Pete. We’re taking you to Dr. Cho." The ride up passes in silence. Peter stares at his feet, while Shuri watches him out of the corner of her eye. Her worry growing with every floor.
Upon arriving at Dr. Cho’s medical bay, the doctor immediately begins her examination. Her hands glide professionally over Peter’s torso first, while her eyes study the images displaying the scan results. Her expression turns serious. “Despite your accelerated healing,” she finally says, shaking her head in disbelief, “you still have broken ribs, Peter. Several of them.”
Shuri stares at him. Her eyes burn with rage. Not at him, but for him. “Pete,” she begins, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion, “you could have fought back. You have the strength to do it. Why don’t you?” She pauses, then nods slowly, as if something has suddenly dawned on her. “Wait. Let me guess.” Her voice turns bitter. “That asshole gets away with everything, doesn’t he? But you... you would be punished if you fought back. And then...” She swallows hard. “Then your bully would find other targets. Others who don’t have your powers. Others who might actually die from it.” She gestures toward his ribs. “Given the damage he inflicts on you, a superhero with healing powers. What would he do to a normal human being?”
The silence that follows is heavy and profound. Peter nods weakly.