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He gets the idea from a joke. Common and sick, told in a way that asked you to laugh at misfortune. The punchline was as long as Stark Industries only made certain kinds of weapons, they would all keep their jobs. A well oiled machine of blood and well tempered steel. At first he dismisses the idea, it’s just too out there. But then it comes to him again when he’s doing his usual snooping and he finds some… interesting records at the house of some kleptocrat who ran guns for the local men, Americans would label terrorists.
Some more digging and he finds a compelling case for Obadiah Stane’s swift removal. If he didn’t already have the idea in his head he would dismiss it. Ignore the evidence and let whatever white on white violence play out. It’s not like Stark dying would kill Stark Industries. Or the military industrial complex that ran on companies like it. But his idea might. And so Erik takes a chance. He’s been training for years, looking for opportunities, seeking cracks in the wall, news from a place he’s never been. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?
So he leaves his deployment and goes hunting for opportunity. He almost doesn’t make it in time.
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James isn’t by nature, a suspicious person. He had instincts of course and they were usually dependable. The thing is Erik Stevens doesn’t ping his suspicions at all. Because if he did, Tony would too.
When he gets the news about Tony’s simple excursion getting waylaid by an attack he forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t start breathing again till Tony confirms after frantic calls in the back of a transport and then in person looking ragged but sharp that he was fine. James doesn’t quite regain his balance till the night of when Tony fucks him like he was fine. In the afterglow his mind wanders off to Stevens and he thanks whatever deity brought the Navy Seal to Tony that day.
Pepper does her research and then some on Stevens. Digging out everything from the police report of his father’s death to his psych evaluations which were unusually normal and well adjusted. Much more than you would expect for someone who was orphaned at a formative age and served three tours by the time he was 23. Stevens is squeaky clean. So there’s not really anything they can say to stop Tony from making him the head of security. Not after he actually saved Tony’s life *and* revealed Obadiah Stane for the piece of shit he was.
Sometimes however, Stevens says stuff. Nothing crazy just dark. His idealism and youthful energy covers it usually but James doesn’t forget Stevens has a higher body count than anyone he’s ever met. Even if Tony’s new buddy wasn’t some serial-killer esque sociopath, he wasn’t too far off and it’s not lost on him that Stevens became and officer and rose in rank within the Navy to a role that would allow him to fight and kill without serious repercussion or jail time.
He knows something is wrong when Stevens doesn’t respond to his frantic comm. Discipline keeps him from panicking but he doesn’t keep that cool for long. Before he dies he gets to see Stevens smile for real.
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T’Challa has only ever heard stories about his uncle. Told by his baba on special holidays or around the memorial for the Wakandans killed in the border attack by Klaue. Which is why when he wakes up in the D’Jalia, Wakanda’s ancestral plane, he doesn’t recognize the man who greets him. The man quickly introduces himself and T’Challa becomes acquainted to his new incorporeal form and the strange place he now inhabited.
In truth he’s still experiencing shock at how easily he had been killed. Killed on the cusp of capturing Klaue and bringing justice to Wakanda’s fallen. Defeated not by a more capable fighter but by a sonic wave device of all things wielded … by a man who called him cousin. Later, after an intangible amount of time and T’Challa has shed enough tears to fill a small tub, his uncle N’Jobu tells him about his son, N’Jadaka.
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Erik expects to see his dad. That’s who the priest had invoked when they prayed over him. But instead he’s confronted with T’Challa. Angry, betrayed T’Challa. Erik doesn’t have time to trade words with the man he killed, he wants to see his dad. They promised he would be visited by ancestors. His cousin wasn’t a fucking ancestor.
“Where is my dad?” He bites the words out through clenched teeth.
The T’Challa apparition leers back, “Why would he want to see you? Why would he even be here? He was never a king!”
“He’s my dad, of course he’s here.” He speaks with confidence he doesn’t feel. He had buried his dad properly years ago, he even followed all the stupid woo woo rites Wakanda had for their dead. Why the fuck hadn’t it worked?
What’s the point of all this if it didn’t even work?!
“Your lies won’t stay buried forever, kin slayer.” His cousin sound venomously self righteous. It just makes Erik laugh.
He decides to ignore T’Challa for now and look around the place. He didn’t know how long this dream would last—there were other panthers on the tree. Maybe one of them was his dad? He walks closer and the tree once solid in his focus ripples out of existence, replaced by a door. The door has his childhood apartments room number. 1405. He doesn’t even question it, turning the handle. When he steps through he’s back in the apartment. Back in the room where he found his fathers body. When he goes to open the box holding his father’s ring, it’s missing.
“Looking for this?” His father’s voice, interrupts his panic. He turns slowly. The ring rests from a gold chain, around the man’s neck. His eyes snap next to the mans’ chest then back to his face. There is no blood.
The apparition smiles and spreads his arms wide. “I am so proud of you N’Jadaka. Well done.” When N’Jobu enfolds him into an embrace Erik doesn’t move away. Minutes later when he rises from the sands, his eyes are shining.