Erik Killmonger closed his eyes for three seconds, then immediately opened them.
The shockwave from the grenade blast had not yet faded, and he could not truly see the world through his dizzy eyes. But he was familiar with the taste of blood filling his mouth. The stench of shattered bodies and organs scattered across the ground, baked by the heat, made his head throb and nearly made him vomit. The dying afterglow bloomed into chaotic, dazzling light within his mind, while pain flickered at the edges of his vision in countless wildly dancing points of light.
He had never expected Ulysses Klaue to split the convoy into two groups this time, nor had he expected those Vibranium smugglers to seek revenge for their companions rather than simply flee. Just as his team had wiped out the first half of the convoy and begun searching for spoils, the second half caught up and opened fire on them.
Relying on muscle memory forged through years of training and combat, he maintained control of his body through the pain and dizziness. Erik Killmonger shouted loudly, letting his companions know he was still alive and that their hopes of making money had not been destroyed. The incessant gunfire became the best remedy for his recovery, but he soon shut his mouth and spat out the sand in it. He had discovered that the people around him had already been blasted into chunks of flesh. His shouting would only draw attacks—though it was hardly conspicuous amid the gunfire and screams—but Erik Killmonger still fell silent on instinct.
With fingers smeared in someone else's blood, he pulled the trigger and blew apart the head of a man who had circled around the cover and tried to throw a grenade. Another explosion rang out. High-speed fragments