T'Challa felt the pain burn in his body, he really had underestimated his opponent, he hadn't expected them to be enhanced, and not so much more then his own enhancements.
In fact, he was even worse off now that they were both out of their suits then he had been before, yet he hardly mattered, even if his plan hadn't worked out perfectly, he had still succeeded.
Bringing his hand up to the necklace, he quickly activated the newest suit designed by Shuri after her study of the strange nanomachine that they had found; a nano suit of Vibranium quickly covered his body.
As the vibranium nanosuit enveloped T'Challa, a sense of relief washed over him. The suit's advanced technology immediately began to dull the pain and fortify his battered body, giving him a moment to catch his breath. He felt the energy surging through him once more, and a faint smile crossed his lips as he faced his opponent.
Napoleon stood there, watching with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't expected this, but his expression didn't show fear or surprise—only disdain. "And here you called me a coward that hid behind a suit, yet it is you that lacks both courage and honor."
T'Challa met Napoleon's gaze, his eyes sharp and unwavering. "I can throw aside my honor and my pride for Wakanda; that is what it means to fight for something greater than myself!"
Napoleon's lips curled into a smirk. "Is that how you justify your fear? Hiding behind technology because you know you cannot defeat me with your own strength?" He took a step forward, his presence as imposing as ever despite being out of his suit. "You rely on this vibranium, on your suit, because deep down, you know that without it, you are nothing."
T'Challa clenched his fists, feeling the energy from his nanosuit hum through his body. "You are mistaken. I am not defined by this suit, nor by the vibranium it's made from. I am the Black Panther, and that is something you will never understand."
Without another word, T'Challa surged forward, moving faster than before, the suit amplifying his movements with incredible speed and precision. He struck at Napoleon with a series of rapid punches, his fists moving like a blur. Napoleon blocked the flurry of hits with ease.
The black panther suit had never given much enhancement, being more about defence and stealth then something like what Napoleon used. So, while T'Challa wasn't afraid of getting hurt now, he still found himself outmatched in every aspect.
Napoleon countered T'Challa's attacks with a cold, calculated efficiency, parrying each punch as if he had anticipated every move. It was clear that he wasn't just strong; he was an experienced fighter, someone who had faced countless battles over the centuries. Each movement was fluid, deliberate, and devastatingly precise.
"You rely on this suit to make you faster, stronger," Napoleon taunted, catching T'Challa's fist mid-swing and twisting his arm behind his back. "But even with it, you are nothing more than a child playing with toys."
T'Challa gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain that shot through his shoulder. He had to admit that he, indeed, was outclassed by his opponent in every way. His suit was better, his enhancement was better, and even his skills were leagues ahead of his own.
He hadn't been a black panther for long, and while having that role, he hadn't done much; even his father hadn't done much in his time as a black panther, Wakanda didn't need much from its protector, and now that it did, T'Challa found himself unable to stand up to the challenge.
Napoleon delivered a sharp knee to T'Challa's side, causing him to stumble back. The vibranium absorbed most of the blow, but the force still rattled through his body, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. "You cannot win," Napoleon continued, his voice calm and almost bored. "Why prolong this pointless struggle?"
"For Wakanda!"
"For Wakanda!"
T'Challa's shout was overlayed with that of another belonging to his father. He might have given the role of black panther to his son, but he was still willing to don the mask another time to protect not just his home but also his family.
T'Challa turned his head just in time to see his father, T'Chaka, leaping into the fray. The elder Black Panther's presence was like a surge of hope, and for a brief moment, T'Challa felt a weight lift from his shoulders. His father's suit was older, less advanced than his own, but there was a grace and confidence in T'Chaka's movements that spoke of decades of experience.
"Father!" T'Challa called out, his voice tinged with both relief and concern.
T'Chaka landed beside his son, giving him a brief, reassuring nod. "You have done well, my son," he said, his voice steady and calm, even in the midst of chaos. "But now, we face this together."
Napoleon watched the exchange with an amused glint in his eyes. "Ah, so the old king decides to join the fight. How touching," he sneered, raising his fists. "But it will make no difference. You will both fall."
T'Chaka's eyes narrowed. "You speak with the arrogance of a man who believes himself invincible," he said, stepping forward to face Napoleon directly. "But no one is invincible. Not even you."
Napoleon laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that echoed through the battlefield. "I have conquered nations, stood against armies, and risen from the ashes of my own defeat. What hope do you think you have against me?"
T'Chaka didn't respond with words. Instead, he launched himself at Napoleon, moving with a speed and precision that defied his age. His strikes were powerful and deliberate, each one aimed at exploiting a weakness he had identified in his opponent's movements. Napoleon blocked the attacks, but there was a slight hesitation in his defenses, a momentary falter that T'Chaka did not miss.
T'Challa watched in awe as his father fought, each blow and counterattack a lesson in mastery. It was clear that, even without the advanced technology of his son's suit, T'Chaka was a force to be reckoned with.
Napoleon, for the first time, seemed to be on the defensive, his arrogance giving way to frustration. "You think you can best me, old man?" he growled, throwing a punch that T'Chaka deftly avoided.
"I do not need to best you," T'Chaka replied calmly. "I only need to remind you that you are not invincible."
With a sudden, fluid motion, T'Chaka swept Napoleon's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He immediately followed up with a powerful kick to Napoleon's ribs, sending him sliding across the dirt.
T'Challa seized the opportunity and sprang into action. "Now, father!" he yelled, and together, the two Black Panthers launched themselves at their opponent, their attacks perfectly coordinated. T'Challa's speed and agility, combined with T'Chaka's strength and experience, created a relentless assault that was far fiercer than anything T'Challa himself could mount.
Yet, even as they fought with everything they had, even as they disguised their honor and pride to trick their opponent out of his suit while still using theirs, they were still unable to push him.
Napoleon had been taken by surprise for a moment, allowing the two of them to get a good few hits in, but he was far from defeated, no, it just made him get serious.
After getting back to his feet, Napoleon was a force of nature, he moved fast enough to break the sound barrier, his hands and legs turned into blurs as he sent the two black panthers flying with every hit and kick.
Only the Vibranium on them kept them alive at this point, but even their suits couldn't stop them from feeling pain as even the metal that should be able to absorb energy failed to fully deal with the overwhelming force behind the former French Emperor.
T'Challa struggled to regain his footing, his breath ragged and vision blurred from the sheer impact of Napoleon's strikes. Each blow felt like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves through his body, and for the first time, a flicker of doubt began to creep into his mind. His father, too, was on one knee, panting heavily as he tried to shake off the effects of the beating they had just received.
Napoleon stood over them, unscathed and brimming with confidence, like a titan who had just brushed off a storm. "Is this it?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Is this all the mighty Black Panthers can muster? You speak of fighting for something greater, yet all I see are two men clinging to life, desperate to believe they have any power left."
T'Challa looked at his father, and in that brief moment, the two exchanged a silent understanding. They hadn't expected to defeat Napoleon in a contest of sheer strength, but they had hoped to at least slow him down. Now, it seemed as though even that hope was slipping away.
"Don't listen to him," T'Chaka muttered, his voice strained but resolute. "He wants you to doubt yourself, to believe you are powerless. But you are not. As long as you draw breath, as long as you stand, you are still the Black Panther."
T'Challa clenched his fists, feeling the energy of his suit surge around him. He could feel every fiber of his being screaming at him to stand, to keep fighting, even if it meant facing certain death. This was his duty—not just as king, but as protector.
Napoleon watched them with mild amusement. "Why do you resist?" he asked, almost genuinely curious. "Why do you fight when you know you cannot win?"
"Because that's what makes us different," T'Challa replied, his voice firm despite the pain. "We don't fight because we believe we will win. We fight because it's the right thing to do."
Napoleon's expression twisted with contempt. "How naïve."
In a burst of speed, he was on them again, his fists striking like a battering ram against their bodies. T'Chaka managed to deflect one blow, while T'Challa took another directly to the chest, the impact nearly shattering his ribs. But instead of falling back, T'Challa grabbed Napoleon's arm, holding on with every ounce of strength he had left.
"Father, now!" T'Challa shouted.
T'Chaka didn't hesitate. Summoning every bit of strength left in his aging body, he struck at Napoleon's exposed side, the blow carrying all the force he could muster. The hit made Napoleon stagger, just for a fraction of a second—but it was enough.
T'Challa used that momentary lapse to pull his enemy off-balance, twisting his arm and forcing him to the ground. It wasn't much, and it wouldn't last, but it gave T'Challa the chance to look his enemy in the eyes.
"You think yourself invincible," T'Challa said, gasping for breath. "But even you can bleed."
With a roar, T'Challa activated his suit's kinetic energy redistribution, releasing a burst of power directly into Napoleon's chest. The force sent Napoleon skidding back, actually driving him to one knee, for the first time showing a sign of damage—a bruise already forming on his cheek, and a small trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth.
"Heh, Invincible? I'm far from that… but in front of you two? I might as well be." He said, standing back up, the bruise on his face fading away in moments and the blood seeming to move in reverse, disappearing back inside his mouth.
A/N
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