After successfully completing the mission to rescue Tony Stark, Silver Sable's security company skyrocketed in reputation within the industry overnight, fully transforming into the Silver Sable Rescue Company.
With exclusive rescue equipment provided by Parker Industries and financial backing from Batman, it was only a matter of time before Silver Sable Rescue became the flagship division of Sable International.
At that moment, Silver Sable had her legs propped up on the desk, watching a press conference on TV about the battle between two suspected robots that had taken place in a New York factory the previous night.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you've all received the official report regarding last night's accidental explosion at an Ajax Security factory owned by Obadiah Stane, one of the board members of Stark Industries…"
On screen, James Rhodes was standing in for Tony Stark, reading from the prepared statement:
"There is unverified evidence claiming that a robotic prototype malfunctioned. One of Tony Stark's personal bodyguards, known as 'Iron Man,' stopped it, but the factory was nonetheless damaged, resulting in a chain of explosions…"
"Fortunately, aside from Obadiah Stane being seriously injured, there were no other casualties at the scene…"
Silver Sable pursed her lips. She knew full well that everything they were saying was a lie—news was always like this—but even she didn't know the truth of what had really happened last night.
Knock, knock, knock.
Her company was still housed in the same original office building, on the twentieth floor, and she was using the exact same office as before. The rescue company wasn't large enough yet to justify moving, so Silver Sable planned to wait a while longer before upgrading locations.
At the sound of the knock, she didn't even turn her head. "Come in."
The door opened, and—just as Silver Sable had expected—the bearded guy who once lent Tony Stark his daughter's cute little flip phone walked in.
"What is it?" Silver Sable asked.
"Boss…" The bearded man hemmed and hawed, licking his teeth, clearly struggling to speak.
"Just spit it out. What's with the stuttering?" Silver Sable turned to him, puzzled.
"There's a prince at the door who wants to see you." The moment the words left his mouth, the corners of his lips curled upward uncontrollably into a wild grin.
Only then did Silver Sable realize he hadn't been unable to speak earlier—he'd been trying not to laugh. She narrowed her eyes, knuckles cracking audibly as she clenched her fists.
"Carlisle… do you think you're funny?"
Carlisle the bearded man instantly shivered. The manic grin vanished, replaced by a perfectly straight face as he stood at attention.
"No, boss! There really is a prince here to see you. He says he's the eldest son of the king of the African nation of Wakanda and that he'd like to meet you."
Silver Sable's brow furrowed again. Back when she was a mercenary, she had frequently worked in Africa for various factions, but it had been years since she left that life for private security, and now her company had pivoted entirely to rescue operations.
She couldn't for the life of her figure out why the prince of a backward little country like Wakanda would come looking for her.
"Bring him in," she told Carlisle.
Carlisle nodded. This time he didn't dare smile again, terrified of angering his boss.
A few minutes later, Carlisle returned and ushered the prince of Wakanda into the office. The man wore a sharply tailored suit in traditional African style, carried himself with regal bearing, and was accompanied by two female attendants.
"Your Highness," Silver Sable greeted politely.
She had taken her feet off the desk the moment they arrived. She had no idea what this prince from a developing nation wanted, but Silver Sable had no intention of looking arrogant or foolish. On the contrary, she did her best to appear courteous.
"My name is T'Challa, from the East African nation of Wakanda."
T'Challa was remarkably composed—nothing like the flashy Black Americans one saw on the streets of New York. To Silver Sable, every gesture he made radiated elegance.
She offered a perfunctory smile and was just about to ask Prince T'Challa the reason for his visit when his next sentence made her take two sudden steps back, fists raised in a guard position, weight lowered into a combat stance.
"I need to contact Batman."
Whoosh!
Almost the instant Silver Sable dropped into her fighting posture, the two female attendants at T'Challa's side stepped forward in perfect unison, positioning themselves protectively on either side of their prince, glaring at her with predatory intensity.
T'Challa quickly raised both hands in a calming gesture. "Easy, Ms. Sablonova. I mean you no harm."
Her full name was Silver Sablonova, but almost no one knew that. Ever since her mercenary days, she had gone exclusively by "Silver Sable."
Now she was even more on guard. Not only did this man know Batman existed and that she could reach him—he knew her real name.
He claimed to come in peace, but Silver Sable wasn't buying it for a second.
She carefully backed up until her shoulders touched the wall, giving herself something to push off from if needed, then asked warily, "What do you want?"
"I simply wish to contact Batman through you," T'Challa replied, smiling calmly as he clasped his hands behind his back and signaled his guards to step back again.
"How do you know I can reach him?" Silver Sable pressed.
"Kingpin," T'Challa answered. "To deal with Kingpin, you, Daredevil, and Batman all appeared together in Osborn Tower."
"That alone hardly proves I know Batman," Silver Sable countered, refusing to accept his explanation.
T'Challa seemed to have anticipated her skepticism. He merely smiled kindly and continued, "I have investigated every piece of information available about Batman and identified several individuals who might be connected to him. I intend to visit them one by one. Besides you, there is also Peter Parker…"
Silver Sable's heart clenched. She cut him off before he could finish.
In her eyes, Peter Parker was already a poor college kid who had been ruthlessly used by Batman. She had no desire to see him dragged any deeper into a world he clearly didn't belong in.
"Stop. Fine—I do know Batman."
"But I need to know why you're looking for him first. Cold as he is, he's still my business partner. I'm not about to sell him out to an enemy."
As she spoke, every muscle in her body was coiled like a spring, ready to fight for her life.
She had already sensed murderous intent radiating from the two women behind T'Challa. They were almost certainly elite bodyguards whose combat ability rivaled her own.
If T'Challa meant Batman harm, Silver Sable would fight to protect herself and look for any opening to call Batman for help. She would never simply hand over Batman's communicator.
"I can tell you everything, Ms. Sablonova," T'Challa said, still showing no aggression. "Batman purchased a certain ore. That ore is a national treasure of Wakanda. I need to take it home."
"That's it?" Silver Sable stared at him.
"That's it," T'Challa confirmed.
Silver Sable nodded slowly. If that was truly all it was about, she could agree to put them in touch.
She reached for the Batman communicator—just as T'Challa, seeing her nod, gave a small smile and raised one hand. A string of dark purple-black beads encircled his wrist. A holographic projection instantly sprang from the beads.
"Batman," T'Challa said into the projection. "This is T'Challa."
"Bring the vibranium. I'd like to meet with you."