Shuri laughs, bright and amused, as she leads them through the corridor. "Not just some kind," she tells him. "This is the home of the Wakanda Design Group. Much of the technology you'll see was designed here, including the flyer which brought you and the Kimoyo beads which kept your friend alive."

The lab is almost organic in design, like the whorl of a conch shell. She leads them down the glass-lined hall, pointing out specialty areas as they go, her music thumping bass in the distance.

Their friend, she has moved to a large, quiet space near her personal workspace. Shimmering holograms over her head report her vitals and count down the time needed for the putty to do its work, for the nerves to regenerate. She is still pale, the agent, but otherwise looks far more like she's simply asleep than limply unconscious.