Ugh this is really short but I haven't posted anything to this fic is a while so I thought I'd update. Hope you enjoy anyway. Thanks as always to all those who read, reviewed, followed and favorited this!

Disclaimer: I do not Black Panther.

They don't go after Teremis for a few days. They leave him to stew. At this point, Erik knows, his own mind is the biggest danger, the biggest torture they can inflict upon him. Agents are watching him day and night, analyzing his actions, reading his expressions, listening to the things he mutters to himself under his breath. In time, they would have enough to take another crack at him, hit him harder, let him expose what he knows without even knowing that he was doing it. But not now. For now, they leaving him in the capable hands of Wakanda's intelligence agents.

"The travel bloggers have begun to upload their stuff," Shuri is saying.

"How's the public response?" Erik asks while his own eyes are trained on the tablet in front of him.

"Well, we are trending," Shuri replies. "For the most part, the response has been favorable, though there are a couple of racists who seem to think their option is the only that should exist."

When Erik looks up, she is frowning hard. He feels a vindictive stab of pleasure. Good. Let her see and feel what it was like, what the rest of their people felt every single day while she grew up happy and free and never knew what it was like to be hated for the colour of your skin or the curl of your hair. And hated so badly that you started hating yourself, started to believe you were inferior, started wishing you were other. Let her know what it was like.

But some part of him does not want her to know it was like. Because she? Because that inherent confidence, that knowledge of her worth, that belief in her value? That's what he wants for his people. He wants them to know that they are worth everything. That the colour of their skin, their culture, their beliefs and practices, do not mean that they are less, will never mean that they are less.

"Ignore them," he says and the words both feel like ash in his mouth and hope blooming, tender and fragile.

"Obviously genius," she says but she flashes him an unexpected smile and turns back to her kimoyo beads. "How is the trail going?"

"Long," Erik replies, frowning.

He's attempting to track down the various exporting trails for Teremis' disgusting business. He has some already of course. It's how he got to the philanthropist. But Teremis' networks are wider than they'd realized, far more varied and all an affront to anything worth saving in the world.

So Erik is on the hunt again. While they have Teremis, the rest of the world does not have access to him and the knowledge of his crimes. Wakanda will have to do the work, if they want to keep their involvement with Teremis a secret and stop his networks.

Erik does not have a problem with this. The only thing worse than someone who dehumanizes one group of people is someone who dehumanizes all of them. Erik is a monster, but he can least admit that the people he's killed are people not simply business.

Besides, every little bit he can do to help his people he will. He's seen drugs down good men, seen gangs get fathers killed, sons conscripted and mothers heartbroken all in a bid for food and protection, seen what absolute hell sweatshops are, seen the inside of prostitute rings and broken them in a mad fury. He's held up shaking men and women who were being transported like cargo before his team got the drop on them.

Teremis is a ghost but Erik is a damn exorcist and he's going to rip every part of him, every lick of his influence, out of the world. He's going to lay bare his crimes for the world to see, scream his name into the void of the masses and watch it shiver, watch it try to escape the truth, the dark lies they've been living on and fail to do so.

"I'll trade you disgruntled colonizers for anything you have to hack," Shuri says after a moment.

"Mmm?"

"Some of the colonizers are shouting at us for not helping out the African descendants in their own country," Shuri said, pressing her lips together.

Erik stares at her. "Them's the ones that kicked my brothers and sisters down in the first place," he says. The sheer audacity threatens to strangle him. How could they simply brush off their responsibility in all of this?

"Wanna handle them?" Shuri asks and her grin is both wicked and a peace offering.

"Send me your fools," Erik snarls, "And hack these accounts."

With a flick of her fingers, Shuri has sent the information from her kimoyo beads and Erik taps at his tablet to return the favour.

It takes a few more hours but Erik has managed to get a solid lead not only on the financing trail on several of Teremis' other organ trafficking rings, but also the times and destinations of two shipments of people that are to be carried to the rings to be harvested.

"Hey cuz," he drawls, without lifting his head. "You're right on time."

"Am I?" T'Challa asks from outside his cell.

Erik sends the information over to his kimoyo beads and watches as he reads through it. By the time he is finished, his cousin is cloaked in the mantle of king and warrior, eyes dark with righteous anger, muscles tense and hard.

T'Challa takes a moment to breathe and then locks eyes with Erik. "Thank you," he says, sincerely.

Erik snorts but it is bitter, harsh. "I didn't do it for you, cuz."

"I am aware," T'Challa says. "But thank you none-the-less. Without you, we wouldn't have known."

Erik snorts again. "Of course not. You'd have simply sat up here safe behind your shields and left the rest of us to rot."

T'Challa sighs. "You're right. We did not do as much as we should have but," and here his eyes give a dark twinkle, "We can atone. And you N'Jadaka are a reason for that and I will not forget it." He nods. "I will save them, cousin."

"You damn well better cuz," Erik says to him. "Or you aren't worth the crown on your head."

Surprisingly T'Challa grins. "Perhaps," he says far too fondly for Erik's liking, "I will take you with me someday." And then he's gone leaving Erik staring after his damn fool of a cousin with some mix of hope, anticipation, anger and incredulous-ness.

Damn but his cousins are stupider than he thought. Maybe he'll snap their necks far earlier than he'd expected.

Tell me what you think as always. I'm a bit nervous about this one.