6th March 2010 – The Flagstaff House, Accra, Ghana
"Why hello, Mr. President."
The voice came from behind the desk — not the polished oak seat of power meant for Ghana's leader, but the man who now occupied it. He had navy-blue hair, clean tan skin, and neon eyes that glowed faintly even in the fluorescent light. The circuit-like markings running along his neck gave him the look of something more than human, but his casual posture made it feel like he owned the room.
President Attah Mills froze in the doorway. "Who are you, and why are you sitting in my chair?"
"Call me Steel," the man said, drumming his fingers on the desk. "And don't bother with security. Your men are unconscious, not dead — for now."
"You… dealt with my secret service?" Mills' voice cracked between fear and outrage.
"I said they're fine. Well, mostly." Steel smirked, leaning back. "Point is, I'm not here to overthrow you. I'm here to help. You've got a sickness you can't treat, assassins in your own cabinet, spies bleeding your resources dry. And that's just before we start talking about the larger game."
Mills' knees nearly buckled. He lowered himself into a chair across from Steel, wary but curious. "And what do you want in exchange?"
"The same thing you want," Steel replied simply. "A free, strong Africa."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Steel pulled a sleek black case onto the desk snapping open the briefcase. Rows of rings, bracelets, and vials gleamed like treasure under dim light. Each one was marked with Adinkrah patterns, but the engravings hinted at something older — tusks, wings, scales, claws.
"Fifty soldiers," Steel said, his neon eyes glinting. "Each bonded to armour drawn from Africa's roots. Creatures that once ruled the land, sky, and river. Creatures the world respects, fears, and prays to."
President Mills leaned forward, squinting. "These… are not lions."
Steel smirked. "No. Lions are Zamunda's. Panthers are Wakanda's. I don't insult kings by imitating their gods. But tell me, Mr. President… when your enemy sees the shadow of the Nile Crocodile rising from the water, or the wingspan of the Sacred Falcon blotting out the sun… will they not tremble?"
He clicked his fingers, and holograms shimmered to life. Armour shaped like elephants with tusked helms. Suits with falcon masks and wings of energy. Crocodile-scaled plating, eyes glowing with raw predatory hunger.
"Fifty warriors. Fifty myths made flesh. Africa's roar, spread across every element of our land."
The president's hand trembled. For the first time, he believed.
Mills stared at the case. "…Like Power Rangers."
Steel chuckled. "Exactly. Only these ones don't need spandex."
Two Hours Later, Kempinski Hotel
Steel leaned against the window of a luxury suite, phone pressed to his ear. "Relax, Molly. He'll be fine. Ja'em's kid, remember? He's sturdier than he looks."
He listened, smirking at her fiery tone. "Yes, I know. Yes, I'll check in. I even got Claw in a cage for Wakanda and tossed their king a little armor upgrade his daughter's probably already tinkering with. You can stop worrying."
A pause, then a softer voice: "Tell Alloy I love him. Bye."
Steel ended the call, his neon eyes shifting to the shadows of the room. "You can step out now. I know you've been watching."
A woman emerged — tall, curvy, red-haired, green-brown eyes glinting in the dim light. Her voice carried a mixture of suspicion and grudging respect. "What are you?"
"Not a god," Steel replied with a grin. "But I can give people back what they've lost. Depends if they can make it worth my time."
He dropped a small package on the dresser. "For Junior. And tell the Archer I've got better gear waiting for him."
"What about me?" the woman asked.
"We'll see," Steel said with a wink. "Oh, and tell Junior — I'll send him a cat one of these days."
Before she could respond, he leaned out the window and let gravity take him. She rushed to look, only to see a burst of blue light and metallic wings unfold. Steel streaked into the night sky like a living jet.
On the sill lay a flash drive, engraved with a red hourglass.
SHIELD DC Base
Nicholas Joseph Fury Jr. crushed his whiskey glass as Coulson left the office. His jaw clenched tight, the "N" in his eagle-shaped earring pulsing faintly as the anti-surveillance tech swept the room.
"A cat?" he muttered, rage simmering. "That biomechanical bastard thinks he can call me Junior… send me a cat?" He hurled a chair into the wall.
"Composure, Fury," he muttered, his father's voice echoing in his head. He straightened his coat and faced the window, one eye burning with a fury no eyepatch could hide.
Meanwhile, Zamunda
Far from Washington's corridors of power, whispers stirred in the golden halls of Zamunda. Adamantite, the sacred golden metal, gleamed in the vaults — a resource even Wakanda respected. The lions of the royal family — Golden, Silver, Platinum — were restless. The world was changing, and their king, Akeem Joffer, had just received word of a familiar name resurfacing.
Steel.
The man who once walked among kings now played a new game.
And the lions would not be caught sleeping.
Meta Excerpt // Deadpool's Unauthorized Commentary
"So let me get this straight. Steel crashes a meeting with the President, flexes his shiny toys, and walks out like some biomechanical sugar daddy for Africa? Bold move.""Also — did he seriously bribe Wakanda with better drip for T'Chaka? That's like showing up at Iron Man's place with a shinier toaster.""Oh, and note to self: if he sends Fury Jr. a cat, I have to be there. Popcorn in hand. Maybe even live-tweet it. #Catmageddon"