C444 Black Panther Begins

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In the heart of London, a museum bustled with visitors, their footsteps echoing through the grand halls as they marveled at the historical artifacts on display. Children giggled and whispered, their eyes wide with wonder, as they observed relics from times long past. Everything seemed peaceful and serene, a snapshot of human history frozen in time.

But that tranquility was shattered as the air was pierced by the sharp sound of gunshots. Panic rippled through the museum-goers like a shockwave, as they dropped to the ground, their faces etched with terror. The sound of assault rifles being brandished filled the air, sending a clear message to anyone who dared to resist.

Amidst the chaos, a group of masked men stormed into the museum, their faces obscured by menacing expressions and heavy armor. They moved with a calculated precision, each one wielding a firearm that seemed far too deadly for such a serene setting. The overweight and elderly guards at the entrance were caught off guard, and before they could even react, the masked intruders fired rounds into the air, commanding everyone's attention.

"On the ground NOW!" One of them yelled, commanding compliance.

A lone guard, seemingly brave or foolish, attempted to stand his ground. His trembling hands reached for his holstered weapon, but in his haste, he forgot to release the restraining strap. His fingers fumbled in vain as he struggled to unholster the gun. But the masked figure at the forefront of the assault was having none of it. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired, the gunshot deafening in the enclosed space. The guard's lifeless body slumped to the ground, a pool of blood rapidly forming around him.

The shocking death of the guard sent a wave of terror rippling through the crowd. People cowered and cried out, huddling together on the ground in a desperate bid for safety. Amid the chaos, another guard managed to hit a hidden panic button, hoping to alert the authorities. But as his distress signal was being transmitted, one of the masked intruders spotted him. A hail of bullets tore through the air, striking the guard multiple times. He collapsed to the ground, his life extinguished in a matter of seconds.

As the situation grew increasingly dire, the leader of the group, wearing a mask to conceal his identity like the rest, approached a glass display at the center of the room. His gaze locked onto an ancient African axe and an intricate Dogon Mask, both invaluable artifacts of history. Without hesitation, he raised his weapon and fired, shattering the glass and grabbing the artifacts with gloved hands.

With his loot secured, the leader stepped back, revealing his face as he removed his mask. Erik Stevens, better known as Killmonger, grinned with a self-assured confidence. His dark eyes met the numerous surveillance cameras that surrounded him, capturing his every move. Unfazed, he slipped on the Dogon Mask, its presence both a symbol of his defiance and a mark of his intent.

[Insert picture of Killmonger here]

While his men ransacked the museum, stealing valuable artifacts and precious treasures, Killmonger's attention remained fixed on the surrounding chaos. The tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness that gave him an intoxicating sense of power. He reveled in the chaos, watching as his plan unfolded exactly as he had orchestrated.

With a final nod to the cameras, Killmonger signaled his men to retreat. They left the museum just as they had entered, walking out through the front doors with their ill-gotten gains. Outside, a truck awaited them, its back compartment open and ready to be loaded. Killmonger joined his men, the Dogon Mask now a part of his identity, and watched as they efficiently stored the stolen artifacts.

With his men loaded into the truck, Killmonger stepped back took aim. The sudden eruption of gunfire echoed through the air as he opened fire, his aim deadly and precise. One by one, the masked figures fell, their bodies collapsing inside the trucks storage. The truck's back compartment was soon sealed, the stolen treasures and dead accomplices concealed within.

Killmonger casually walked over to the driver's seat, his expression calm and collected. He settled behind the wheel, his fingers gripping the steering wheel with confidence. As the wailing sirens of approaching police cars filled the air, he started the engine and pulled away from the scene, leaving behind a scene of chaos and destruction.

In the aftermath of the robbery, the police arrived, their vehicles surrounding the museum. Officers rushed inside, finding a scene of disarray and traumatized museum-goers. The authorities quickly secured the area, tending to the wounded and assessing the extent of the damage. But as they searched for clues and tried to make sense of the situation, Killmonger's face reveal in the security footage was the only lead they could follow.

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Only a day had passed since the daring museum heist, and Erik Killmonger found himself in a dimly lit apartment that he had deliberately chosen to lead back to him. Dressed in the African Dogon Mask and seated on a worn-out couch, he cradled an ancient African axe in his lap, the stolen treasures from the heist arranged around him. His face remained hidden behind the mask, an enigmatic expression concealed beneath its eerie visage.

As he sat there, seemingly waiting, he couldn't help but hope his plan would work. The disappearance of Ulysses Klaue, along with his stash of precious Vibranium, had thwarted Killmonger's original plans for revenge and entry into Wakanda. Klaue was the key to gaining access past the barrier and a means to establish credibility among the Wakandan tribes. Now that this path was blocked, Killmonger had devised a new strategy, one that required him to expose his face to the world during the heist.

'This is far more risky than my original plan, but sadly, there's no other way…' Killmonger thought as he eyed the ace in his lap, wondering if it was really Vibranium or not? Either way, he didn't know how to check without Klaue, so it didn't matter.

Suddenly, the silence of the room was shattered by a crash as a dark figure burst through the window, shards of glass scattering across the floor. It was the Black Panther, Prince T'Challa, dressed in his sleek black body suit that absorbed and redistributed kinetic energy. His eyes locked onto Killmonger, a tense energy radiating from him as he surveyed the scene.

[Insert picture of Black Panther here A/N: I can't remember if I did this already so just do it again.]

Killmonger's lips curled into a confident smirk behind the mask. This was the moment he had anticipated. Without waiting for the Black Panther to speak, he stood up and raised his hands. "I surrender," he declared calmly, his voice muffled by the mask.

T'Challa was momentarily taken aback by Killmonger's swift surrender. His keen instincts told him that something was amiss. Why would an experienced thief and criminal mastermind so willingly give up?

Before T'Challa could voice his confusion, Killmonger swiftly pulled off the Dogon Mask, dropping it to the ground with a clang. He then pressed his finger to his lower lip, revealing a hidden Wakandan marking… a tattoo that served as proof of his citizenship. The gesture was calculated and meant to prove his heritage and identity as a citizen of Wakanda.

The shock on T'Challa's face deepened as he recognized the tattoo, realizing that the man before him was indeed a fellow Wakandan. The situation had taken an unexpected turn, one that he had not foreseen. His mind raced, searching for answers as he confronted this intriguing and confusing revelation.

Killmonger took a step forward, his eyes fixed on T'Challa. His tone was unwavering, a mixture of defiance and assurance. "I'm N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu. I'm a prince of Wakanda."

The weight of Killmonger's words hung heavily in the air, each syllable resonating with a truth that T'Challa had never anticipated. Before T'Challa could respond, a voice resonated from a hidden speaker in his suit, breaking the silence. "What the fuck?" It was Shuri, T'Challa's younger sister and Wakanda's brilliant technological genius. She had observed the entire scene through the cameras and microphones embedded in T'Challa's suit.

The revelation had sent shockwaves beyond the confines of the room, rippling through the hearts and minds of those who witnessed it alongside her. The intricate web of Killmonger's intentions had been spun.

————

As the revelations between Killmonger and T'Challa unfolded within the walls of the dimly lit apartment, a parallel scene was playing out on the vibrant streets of Wakanda. The air was thick with anticipation, an electric energy pulsating through the city as its people prepared to welcome their new king. Banners fluttered in the wind, streets were adorned with colorful decorations, and the entire city seemed to be painted with a sense of celebration.

In the midst of this joyful atmosphere, a golden portal shimmered into existence, revealing the Avengers Council's arrival. One by one, they stepped through the portals, dressed in their respective attire. Peter stood alongside his Lily and MJ, each of them donned in their usual spider suit. Both of them were beyond excited to tag along for the grand occasion, especially Lily.

Behind them, Tony, Magneto, Professor Xavier, Nick Fury, and the Ancient One followed, each one exuding a distinct presence. Unlike Peter, they treated this very seriously, and didn't bring along anyone, unsure as to whether doing so would anger the Wakandans.

The moment they arrived, they could feel the excitement in the air, the buzz of anticipation that had swept through Wakanda like wildfire. The city was a living testament to the occasion, bedecked in decorations that reflected the joyous occasion of T'Challa's coronation as king. It was a sight to behold, a harmonious blend of tradition and modernity that spoke to the essence of Wakanda itself.

As they stepped out of the portals and onto the Wakandan soil, they were greeted by the dignified presence of T'Chaka, the soon-to-be former king of Wakanda, and his wife, Queen Ramonda. Their regal attire spoke of their lineage and the deep respect they commanded. The Avengers Council members stood before them, a collective force of power and responsibility, each one representing a unique facet of the world.

T'Chaka's eyes held a warm, noble bearing. "Welcome, my fellow Councilmen," he greeted them, his voice carrying the weight of authority and gratitude. "Your presence here honors us on this momentous day."

Peter stepped forward, waving without a care for formalities as always. "Yo, I'm excited to see a real King's coronation," he said, his casual demeanor causing the surrounding guards to frown in annoyance. After all, their king deserved respect.

Tony Stark, always the charismatic figure, grinned and offered a playful salute. "Couldn't miss a party this big, could we?"

Magneto's presence radiated power and confidence, especially in a nation built on metal. "Wakanda is a beacon of strength," he remarked, wondering how he can get some Vibranium out of this. 'Perhaps, I can just steal some…'

Professor Xavier's calm demeanor contrasted with the jubilant atmosphere, his voice carrying a quiet wisdom. "We are here to support Wakanda and its new leader," he stated, his words carrying a sense of purpose.

Nick Fury, as enigmatic as ever, offered a curt nod. "It's an important day for Wakanda and for the world," he said, his gaze focused on the city below, calculating a quick threat assessment.

The Ancient One's presence exuded an aura of wisdom and mysticism. "It's nice to finally meet you in person, King T'Chaka."

T'Chaka and his wife raised their brows in confusion. "In person?" Ramonda asked.

Peter waved his hand dismissively. "Don't mind her. My teacher has what I like to call a peeping fetish. She's probably known about Wakanda since it's inception."

Before anyone could fully comprehend Peter's words, a young girl, only a couple years older than Lily, came running out of the palace, her expression filled with shock and disbelief. "Mom! Dad!" She shouted as she rushed up to T'Chaka and Ramonda, catching her breath for a moment.

[Insert picture of Shuri here]

"What is it?" Ramonda asked. "Is your brother back from his mission?"

"No…" She says, eyeing her parents questioningly. "Dad… W-Who's N'Jadaka?"

A/N: 2084 words :)

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