BLACK PANTHER IN: "KUELEZA [ EXPLANATIONS ]"

Sabertooth stalked the verdant emerald jungle with such matchless feral grace and silence, that he disturbed not the chorusing jungle birds. He disturbed not the hunting python as it slithered across the top of one of his taloned feet, as it searched for its morning meal. He moved with such amazing grace that he disturbed not the exceptionally foul tempered Wakandan Pomboo [ "Honey Badger" ], known for millenia for its legendary ferocity and infinitely cantankerous temperament far more irascible than that of the "ordinary" and already foul tempered territorial wolverine of other lands. After expertly and warily scenting, examining, tasting the very air and casting about, Sabertooth entered the narrow waterway of a small river wending its way through the jungle. He caused not a single ripple. Disturbed not a single fish flitting to and fro, up and down in schools that looked like living multichromatic light in the refracting blue and silver crystal depths of Wakanda's rivers and lakes. Drew attention from not a single crocodile hunting the verdant, teeming, picaresque river shores; despite passing within a finger's breadth of four of them. Wary as the prehistoric beast from which he derived his name, Sabertooth did not just scent the atmosphere about him...he immersed himself and merged with the Natural World. He could see each flap of a nearby hummingbird's wings. He could taste the process of photosynthesis of the nearest clump of jungle trees on this far side of the river bank. He could leap aside as suddenly as the prehistoric predator from which he drew his name as an invisible, soundless, scentless force bolt flashed down upon the space his skull occupied fractions of a second ago.

The force bolt surged into the loamy earth, yet not only did no damage to the land itself...but the green grass blades stood all the taller and all the more densely after the force bolt hit. A new flower...already in the beginning stages of blooming...turned its fresh face for the first time to the golden glory of the sun. The force bolt would have probably killed Sabertooth with even a glancing strike, yet its energy matrix was crafted and calibrated with such superb care for the natural world that it actually enhanced the life energies of Nature.

Only one nation in the history of Earth regularly employed such incredible, innovative technologies and energies: Wakanda.

The second force bolt did not follow hard upon the first...a first in Sabertooth's long and cruel experience. In every preceding instance in Sabertooth's life, there were next to none who dared to hunt him. Only one...Logan...consistently survived such an experience. At all costs, any and all who hunted Sabertooth NEVER allowed him to regain or equalize the initiative once they seized it, because all knew that allowing a creature such as Sabertooth to retaliate against any being or beings that ever threatened him almost invariably ended in the horrific deaths of said being or beings at Sabertooth's merciless claws.

This assailant did not press his/her/their/its advantage. For this failure, Sabertooth resolved to rip out the entrails of his hunter and make them watch him devour their guts before they died.

"Victor Creed. You have some skills that Lady Bullseye does not possess," the firm, strong, feminine voice stated. "Logan was right about you."

Sabertooth scanned the environment about him with his hyperacute senses ratcheted up to the highest levels of sensitivity he could muster. He heard each individual beat of a humming bird's wings. He could smell the photosynthetic activity of the greenery around him. He could see and discern individual identifying characteristics of each bit of pollen on the legs of bees buzzing lazily by him. He could taste each mote of dust in the air nearest him. He could feel the organic processes of life under the bark of trees ten feet away. But of his assailant? He found nothing.

"Another Wakandan?" Sabertooth noted the unique musical lilt of the accented English the disembodied voice spoke with flawless diction; and huffed with huge disdain. " I killed two of your best, last time I was here. Ripped their throats out. Made them watch as I lapped their blood off of my claws as they lay dying. And was about to off yer King when that runt Logan and that lightning bitch Ororo interfered."

With the condescending insufferable arrogance that Wakandans are internationally known for, the disembodied voice replied:

"You killed no one. You were provided the opportunity to escape and assault two LMD's...Life Model Decoys...as part of what you Outworlders would call a 'high school experiment' cataloging your low intellect, and your mutant abilities. You resoundingly confirmed our low opinions of you, in every regard." The voice paused, letting the significance of the statement sink in. Sabertooth was a mortal threat to practically any organization worldwide, and always amongst the Most Wanted criminals and assassins the world has ever known. yet to Wakandans? He qualified only as a "high school experiment".  

The disembodied voice continued, its insufferable arrogance and condescending tone never wavering. "You never. Ever. Menaced our King. Luckily for you, he was engaged in other matters of more import...else he would have killed you out of hand. As part of my training, I observed chronospatial data showing that in the House of M alternate reality, you made the stupid mistake of attempting to assault our King. For which he easily, dismissively and summarily beheaded you. With your own sword.

In fact, I would not have been tasked to sully myself with your repulsive presence...the Wakandan Guard is far more than capable of handling the likes of you...were it not for the fact that I was nearest to you at this moment. Thus was I tasked with delivering this message to you:

You will take your friend Lady Bullseye and yourself out of Wakanda immediately. Or I will execute you."

"Ha!" Sabertooth roared. "You couldn't hurt me if you trie--"

There came not a series of blows but one multipronged assault, savvily striking nerve points in Sabertooth's superhumanly powerful and muscular upper torso pelvic girdle and lower torso at the same time. Sabertooth vibrated with a pain so intense that he couldn't even formulate a thought. He hit the ground and felt his muscles spasm contort coil tight and explode to full length tautness dozens of times per second. His fangs gnashed and gnoshed upon his tongue and inner cheek meat, making them into bloody hamburger. He clouted his head against the unyielding earth and trees with all of his great strength two dozen times per second. His spine howled with pain like a live thing, and flexed so powerfully against his body that it seemed on the verge of tearing itself from his flesh and freeing itself from his brain.

"Your healing factor will not save you," the strong feminine disembodied voice continued, without an ounce of concern. "You managed to dodge the invisible force bolt fired upon you, but you missed entirely the fact that the force bolt was a tactic employed to move you onto a Phased Inhibitor Field which promptly bereft you of your mutant healing power."

A single, acutely accurate throw of a rock hit several nerve ganglia in an arcane sequence. Sabertooth wheezed-growled-shuddered...then vomited blood his own flesh and undigested food...as the convulsions subsided to a mere twitch and then halted entirely within thirty seconds.

With the same erudite tone as a professor lecturing on a college campus, the strong feminine disembodied voice stated: "The next blow will be fatal. Unless you agree to undertake the mission you are charged with: You and Lady Bullseye are to leave immediately. Inform your less scientific and more nefarious employers that you have failed. Inform them that they are never to have any part of any attempt to assail Wakanda again. Else we will utterly slay them all.

Do you agree to engage in this undertaking?"

Drooling vomit and snot, Sabertooth nodded once. As best as he could. Even as his mind was aflame with the unquenchable desire to rend his tormentor apart and savor the taste of her blood. He knew that he would find her again. If it took him centuries, he would find her and nothing would save her from him.

But today he was going to carry Lady Bullseye to their employers.

While Sabertooth was experiencing the joys of carrying a soon to be awake and very hostile Lady Bullseye to their erstwhile employers, D'Ciggs was monitoring Khanata ukoo wa Khanata. "Ukoo wa" roughly translates into "lineage of", and is the Wakandan cultural equivalent of "Junior", a son or daughter bearing the exact name of their mother or father.

True to form, Khanata--the greatest pilot/driver/navigator/professional stunt operator of the modern era--was de-cloaking his star spanning vessel "DA IYARA"..."RECOGNIZE SPEED". Without pausing for the vessel to fully land safely upon Wakandan earth, he came blazing and bounding out energetically on his Quantum Cycle to meet D'Ciggs.

No. I don't think you understood what I stated, and thereby didn't grasp a signal aspect of Khanata's personality.

DA IYARA hadn't made it back to EARTH yet, when Khanata disembarked...in space...on his Quantum Cycle to meet D'Ciggs. Khanata rode in from outer space on his Quantum Cycle, executing the kind of daring free fall that Outworlder skydivers do. Without a parachute or braking of any kind.

And this is his less radical behavior, an example of him yielding to the more temperate minded demands of his wife, the powerful warrior-sorceress Okan Idan.Her name, roughly translated to English, means "Soul Magic".

D'Ciggs was grinning ear to ear. Next to his younger twin Shuri, Khanata was D'Ciggs' favorite.

The cousins smiled and laughed, exchanged complimentary exclamations and clapped each other on the back...secrecy be damned for a moment...and immediately started chatting.

Moving much more slowly--despite the fact that she is one of the fleetest of foot non-Panther Wakandans in the history of the nation--a slim, shapely feminine figure came weaving out of DA IYARA. That would be Okan Idan.

Okan gave D'Ciggs a look that plainly said: I love you, cousin. But I will turn the both of you into something unnatural if you send my overdaring husband on another space mission.

Having witnessed Okan turn Khanata into a panther following one of Khanata's more egregious misadventures [ prior to Khanata's Royal magic defenses speedily returning him back to his regular form ], D'Ciggs wasn't entirely sure Okan was "look-speaking" merely in jest. The shock...and indicator of how intensely favored she is by Bast...was that she wielded the power to momentarily overcome the Royal protection and succeed at all, whereas sorcerers like Baron Mordo experienced unbroken, abject failures at every attempt to magically enact their will upon any Royal.

Khanata had already begun regaling D'Ciggs with his account of the space mission he was sent upon, which he unfailingly supplemented with creative amplifications on boring truth whenever the opportunity to do so presented itself. Whenever he did so, Okan would give D'Ciggs the actual version of events with a single glance and/or face expression, which D'Ciggs was uncommonly gifted at reading [ even for a Royal,and that's saying quite a bit ].

Of course Khanata Ukoo wa Khanata was fully aware of what his wife and his cousin were doing, but it never halted his creative interpretations of events.

"...You missed epic adventures, cousin, right from the start! You chose wisely in sending my wife and I, for only the most stout hearted could have survived what lay in wait for us amongst the infinite starry seas! Right from the start, we navigated into Mayaudara Halittu a Sararin [ roughly translated, it means "Treacherous Worlds In Space", the areas of the galaxy where enemy, untrustworthy, and/or questionable alien empires planets federations etc held sway ] and found ourselves skirting a star cluster near Spacton 9 that could very well have been the leading rocks of the Sayari ya Upinde Wa Mvua Moto!" [ "Planets of Rainbow Fire", the sentient voracious version of the Magellan Clouds located in the area of interstellar space contested by a particularly lawless band of galactic wayfarers raiders traders and the like known in Wakanda as Maharamia Mkoa...Pirate Region/Space ].

Okan silently translated: We weren't anywhere near any of the extremely dangerous Spacton Stations. Not Spacton 9 or any other Spacton. And we weren't near the Sayari ya Upinde Wa Mvua Moto. We were navigating a boring asteroid belt made of rocks with unremarkable but multicolored minerals.

"I gazed warily about. Okan rode bravely by my side, navigating expertly, but I could tell that even her steel nerves were ill at ease."

Okan translated with a facial expression and rolling of her eyes: I was so bored that I was dozing. Coming in and out of naps.

"SUDDENLY!!" Khanata, the expert storyteller, clapped his hands in order to startle his captive audience of one...meaning, his cousin D'Ciggs. D'Ciggs...not remotely startled by the clap...did a masterful job of slightly flinching as if he were truly startled. He could have fooled any onlookers into believing his reaction was genuine.

Oh please, cousin. Not the Fake Flinch Technique.

Well. Maybe he couldn't fool Okan.

"Several parsecs after clearing the vanguard of the Upinde Wa Mvua Moto Sayari, we were accosted by fell fleets of hostile aliens!"

Bored Murillion traders saw us and practically had an orgasm because something new was happening.

"What did you do then, cousin?!" D'Ciggs, enraptured, asked.

Don't encourage him, D'Ciggs.

Too late. Khanata was in full storytelling form now. Nothing could stop him.

"There was naught TO do, BUT engage them in harrowing battle!" Khanata thundered. "Ohhhh, my COUSIN! The fires of Ogun, the Battle Lust of Montu Ra, would have ignited your blood...as it did mine...were you there! For these hostile aliens would neither give nor brook any quarter!

Swift, they were. Unrelenting. Full of terrible desires for plunder and blood...they came! The fabric of near space was lashed by the energies of the laser fire from their weapons! Without needing to speak or look at each other, Okan and I...forged by many hardships into a single organic and nigh unequaled entity...responded flawlessly. Their fearsome aggression was daunting and overwhelming to most, but to the few who are cut of the rare and great qualities of person that Okan and I are? Their cruel cunning and unending aggression was nothing! Wave upon wave of hostile aliens broke upon the unyielding rock of our Wakandan will, wiles, and weaponry!..."

The Murillion Traders were so happy to see something that promised to break their unending tedium, that they were exceptionally eager to be helpful. Taking care not to reveal the true nature of our quest and purpose, we received their eager willingness with the proper Wakandan civilized grace and understanding. With their support, we...alone, after providing data that gave our Murillion friends very strong reason to suspect that we were mining several nearby wormholes for valuable micro-Oxalian particle veins and returning with quantities of same that our Murillion friends could pick up were they to discreetly attempt to deep scan us [ which they did, precisely as you forecast they would, Cousin ] we found the item you sent us to retrieve with rather remarkable alacrity. 

"...Okan focused our Ngao ya Eshu [ Shield of Eshu ] upon the nexus of their coalescing atoms...I mean, who uses fusion teleportation technology nowadays? Such tech is soooo oooollld and out of date, I almost felt sorry for them! We Wakandans stopped using that tech for serious space work what...7,500 years ago? But Okan did not have the failings of my empathic soul. With the Ngao ya Eshu, she adroitly foiled their boarding attempt! As she did so, I wheeled DA IYARA about, and threaded a daring way not a quarter quark wider than the space between molecules that was our safest path between hostile craft spewing glittering, spearing beams of death while moving at hyperspeeds ...!!" Khanata, fully enraptured by his own amazing storytelling, threw his head back to gaze at the stars as his hands opened wide and his arms flung upwards as if to embrace the heavens. His dreadlocked hair fell in beautiful twists and coils about his handsome face. His eyes widened to full size. His breath paused dramatically...but only momentarily.

Okan focused on going to sleep after snacking. The only coalescing atoms were those attaching themselves to The Boredom Monster that was plaguing those poor Murillion Traders. There was no Ngao ya Eshu. No glittering, spearing beams of death.

"Yet we were NOT free of the many dangers of this Mayaudara Halitta a Sararin, for even as we daringly, brilliantly eluded the lethal snares of the first wave of plundering pitiless Pirates...Iji Ti Anubis [ Storm of Anubis, an incredibly rare, incredibly dangerous confluence of instability caused by the universe literally making space for itself to exist and expand...and which of course is nowhere near where Khanata and Okan were ] sprang from the Realms of The Impossible to devour us..!"

There was no springing. There was no Realms. And this story is the only thing that is Impossible. There was, however, the great danger of the Murillion Traders crying themselves to death as their only break from the humdrum monotony of their watch...that break would be us...sped away to do much more exciting stuff than they would ever do out there in their boring stretch of space. Like spinning fanciful yarns for our favorite Cousin, for instance.

D'Ciggs gasped in appropriate horror and empathy for the imperiled travelers, Khanata and Okan. "Eyes of Osheru!!! It was IJI TI ANUBIS?!" D'Ciggs was apparently aghast. "How can it be?"

It most certainly cannot be. The Eyes of Osheru saw there was no form of Iji ti Anubis in our area. As you well know, Cousin. 

"I know not how it came be there, Cousin!! Yet there it was, unfolding with all of its universe devouring horror and glory!! More determined than ever, I swiftly and surely formulated the most courageous plan any pilot has ever dared to contemplate..." 

Khanata knows not how Iji ti Anubis came to be anywhere...except in his imaginative storytelling. There is something unfolding here; something more akin to male bovine manure than bravely battling against "...plundering, pitiless pirates...".  But...I can see where this is headed. Now you may enjoy with Khanata all of the rest of the...um...details with which Khanata furnishes his stories. I'm off to grab some food. Food that will NOT include that Senwa you tried to kill everyone with while Khanata and I were gone. Especially that homicidal second batch. Yes. We heard about it.

"HEY!!" D'Ciggs protested via silent facial feature expression, in tune with his subtle gesture oriented communication with Okan. "I didn't make a second..."

"Mmmhmmm..." Okan clearly didn't believe him at all. And she unobtrusively slid away as Khanata's story gained more and more momentum, involving more and more outalndish details.

Some time later, Khanata wound up his story with this: 

"...at the last and most perilous of moments, snatching from the Reality wrecking, Existence eradicating clutches of Unspace and Beyond Death most terrible, did I...your humble servant and Cousin...retrieve THIS. The very item that drew long dead Gods of Space from their slumber to lust for it and pursue it. The prize that dozens of ancient interstellar Empires sought! The artifact that seemed to be the very Ecstasy of the Eldritch Celestials which it compelled to kowtow before it. But none of these other beings possesses the advantages that I have, Cousin! I am WAKANDAN!! And I therefore must...inevitably...triumph at ALL endeavors I assay. All tasks I put my mind and hand to!"

D'Ciggs...partly saddened that yet another one of Khanata's epic impromptu tales had come to an end before his enspelled audience was ready to hear it end...seized upon the item Khanata offered. D'Ciggs could tell at a glance that the item that Khanata turned over to his care was precisely and beyond question the item that TChalla specified. But D'Ciggs authenticated the item anyway. Khanata would not have expected...and would have been insulted by...anything less.

"This is an exciting, yet trying time." Khanata observed. "For you to task us to specifically retrieve this item? We must be facing genuine perils."

"Exactly, Cousin." D'Ciggs replied. "Had not TChalla ensconced this specific item in the Nowhere Paradox from which you retrieved it...somehow sensing that we may need this item for the current extremes we now face back during the time that our universe was being menaced by The Cosmic Zombies...our situation would be far. Far more dire. For our situation is getting even more dire..."

"...with every passing moment." The voice was feminine. Thrumming with immortal power, ageless wisdom, highly refined genius beyond the ken of mortals. The eyes...lambent with the powers and mysteries, the spiritual strength and unpredictability which spawned legendarily shameless adulation amongst the Slavic people of both genders...are suffused with a loveliness free of the limits of the flesh. "Your son has bested Waskulltyr...a feat worthy of legend. For Waskulltyr is a doughty foe who has been bested less than 5 times in more than ten thousand years. And never by any but the mightiest of Asgardians." Freya, the All-Mother, paused. "Your son is formidable. As advertised. However: A word of caution. My troublesome younger son has taken the measure of your resourceful son, when your TChalla crossed paths with and matched wits with my son some 20 years ago. However near impossible it is to outwit or neutralize or even break even with the power, megagenius, and malice that is Loki when one first jousts with him? Loki is infinitely more difficult to outwit and defeat in all subsequent encounters, due to his increased personal familiarity with recurrent foes. Hundreds of aeons of experience with Loki tells me that we need look no further than him for the source of the treacherous manipulations which have likely turned key Olympian allies against us." Freya the All Mother gazed steadily through her Speil Av Sannhat [ "Mirror Of Truth" ]. The Speil Av Sannhat is one of the immensely mighty magic-tech artifacts that The All Mother possesses which ensure private communication without the merest possibility of eavesdropping via any outside party. "Both of your warrior children will need your wisdom and protection, Younger Sister. They will need you all the moreso precisely because they are convinced that they no longer need your Wisdom and Protection."

Ramonda, Queen Mother of Wakanda, the Power Behind The Throne, nodded her beautiful head sagely. Her all natural braids was fashioned into a particularly lovely Royal hairstyle, which gleamed from within with that uniquely Wakandan beauty. "My calculations indicate that TChalla would be nigh upon the entrance to the Realm of Hela...Hel itself...by now."

"And so your calculations are correct, as they have always been since the beginning of our alliance and ventures together." The All Mother confirms.

"And so his peril is magnified all the more exponentially. For Hel is not to be trifled with. She has never fallen to or been bested in any way by any nonAsgardian; for any reason. At any time. Regardless of how gifted, powerful, intelligent, doughty and formidable said nonAsgardian was. She is vastly more perilous than Waskulltyr in the way that the sun is vastly more brilliant than a match flame. The peril of your son threatens the success of our mutual venture."

Queen Mother Ramonda gazed calmly upon The All-Mother. "TChalla will outwit Hel and deal with Loki within hours of this moment that we speak."

"Your confidence in your son is vast; and admittedly thus far, very well placed." Intones the All-Mother." Your King of the Dead has not faltered or found himself wanting at any point in his extraordinary adventures. I, too, have similar unflappable faith in and made similar grand prognostications about my Thor. Our sons have earned our faith in them. And yet."

"And yet," The Queen Mother, the Power Behind The Throne, finished for The All-Mother. "Our sons are neither invincible nor infallible. Therefore, my Sister Queen, we must plan for the moment that they experience this bitter reality, and succeed where they have failed.

If. Our plans require such.

In this narrow instance, our plans require such rectification; specifically where my son, your husband, and your son, may plunge us all into war---Asgard vs Wakanda, Wakanda vs Asgard--because they are too unyielding and see not sufficiently far enough to prevent such stupidities from befalling us all. They seem to think...wrongly...that the schemes they contend with are solely the multilevel nefariousness of your OTHER son, the Trickskin, The Manipulator. Loki, Lord of Lies."

"Precisely, my Sister Queen." The All-Mother agreed. "However, we see more clearly than they. This deadly foe they face evinces the wiles, the subtlety, the forethought, the venom of a woman. An ancient, terrible, vengeance ridden woman.

Odin, Thor, TChalla. They are certain that they will not fall into the snares of Loki...a feat most difficult to achieve, but a feat that each has succeeded at more than once over the decades and eons. We must ensure that they do not embroil us all in their testicular tirades, and not imperil the far more important plans and plots we have afoot...while not marring their Honor, and allowing them to think that the idea is theirs and theirs alone." The All-Mother concludes.

"In other words," The Queen Mother dryly enjoins, "it must be Monday."

"Precisely. This is par for the course for women and Queens such as we. Except this time? The course is more perilous and treacherous than usual." The All-Mother glanced to her left, at a different facet of her Mirror of Truth. "The time that I foretold is drawing nigh. The treachery of our Olympian allies proceeds with the steady course of the hammers of the forges of Nildavellir.

We must now speak of your fearsome daughter. Your Queen Ruler.

Your daughter is less problematic by far than either her twin D'Ciggs, her adoptive brother Hunter, or her elder brother, the oft spoken of TChalla; for her womanly instincts and intellect automatically steer her clear of the pitfalls the men in our lives would find themselves constantly mired in, were it not for us.

But she is young. Her youth is her greatest flaw. Which simultaneously makes her the greatest threat to our convention of Queens. And her inexperience and youth makes her the greatest internal threat to our grand plan. The fact that she is incredibly gifted in every area and endeavor, a brilliant thinker, lethal, very strong willed and bent on vengeance, also works both for and against us. Which means she is attacking one place, and one person...for the nonce."

"Atlantis. Namor." The Queen Mother was not making a guess, but sharing a fact.

"And that means..." The All Mother continues, "That your daughter is about to enrage another Elder God, and possibly involve us in an extended fracas involving the Roman Shadow Twin of Poseidon: the fierce ,brilliant, and plotting Neptune. This act by your daughter will certainly cause a deadly alliance between Greek and Roman Gods who are opposed to Wakandan Royalty. Poseidon and Neptune. Which means we know who else will be eventually involved."

"My daughter is Queen of Wakanda. She is The Deadliest of The Species. She will not countenance the affronts of Atlantis upon the people and land and honor of Wakanda. There has long been a reckoning coming. She is RIGHT to not only insist upon such, but personally partake of such." The Queen Mother calmly defended the actions of Shuri.

"And you know that not only do I agree with her actions, you know enough of my history to know that I have done what she assays to do many times over the aeons. The Valkyrie are not given to me because I hesitate to bloody my sword upon my foes." The All-Mother reminds The Queen Mother. "In fact, I had to reign in impetuous Idunn from joining your daughter. And remind compassionate Gaea that this is not the time for her much vaunted and sorely needed compassionate wisdom. The younger members of The All-Mother, as you recently reminded me, individually are threats to our convention of Queens only slightly less than your Shuri is. In the aggregate, they surpass her as a threat. Their youth, their power, their wisdom, their passions, their compassion, their inclination toward instant action...well, my Sister Queen, let me just say that the younger members of my All-Mother Trinity ensure that no form of boredom sets in for me."

"So you know, my Sister Queen, that your Brunnhilde offered to join my Shuri in her just quest of vengeance upon Namor..."

"...and your Queen Shuri, your Black Panther, declined her aid. " The All-Mother Queen confirmed. "I applaud both her courage, and her resolve. But. Considering the results of her last joust with Namor? She may regret her decision to decline the aid of a warrior as doughty as Brunnhilde."

The Queen Mother of Wakanda gazed shrewdly upon The All-Mother Queen. And then answered the question that the All-Mother didn't ask aloud."Yes," Ramonda confirmed,"The previous joust between Namor and Shuri was a fact finding mission. Shuri analyzed Namor's strengths, tactics, inclinations and more. In so doing, she uncovered his weaknesses...and the path to certain victory. All while pretending to fall to Namor. Yes, she deliberately didn't choose to use the powders crafted by her grandfather, Azziri the Wise, to defeat Namor. She felt certain that Namor would have some form of potent defense against any weapon using any variant of the old Powders, or the tech and magic from the old battles. Yes, she knew that proud Namor was not the true source of the threat facing Wakanda, and that's why she didn't execute him during their first encounter by applying the knowledge she gleaned from him during that first battle to deal with him summarily then and there.

Yes, none of the previous factors exist this time. Yes, she will execute Namor this time. Unless..."

"...correct, my Sister Queen." Freya The All-Mother stated. "Unless Neptune intervenes. Your daughter isn't sufficiently prepped to defeat both Neptune and Namor, although she thinks she is."

"As TChalla thinks he is sufficiently prepped to defeat both Hel and Loki?" The Queen Mother of Wakanda caught the unspoken warning.

"Perhaps. Only The Norns know for certain," Freya The All-Mother responds.

"I will shield Shuri," Ramonda says. Nods to Aneka. Aneka vanishes.

"Your son is making his move against the threat. As you predicted," Freya the All-Mother was observing a facet of her Mirror of Truth to her left. Out of sight of The Queen Mother.

"TChalla?" Ramonda queried.

"No," The All-Mother demurs. "D'Cigswayo. Your rakish 'D'Ciggs'. I think that he is oftentimes even more brave than his siblings are." Freya didn't miss the smile of pride that shone for the briefest flicker of a moment in Ramonda's beautiful eyes.

"We as Wakandans are special because we as Wakandans are special. The Vibranium does not make us special. The favor of our great Bast is not the font of that which makes us special. Our character, our spirit, our fiber that makes us Wakandan and Wakanda is what drew the Vibranium and the favor of the great Bast to us. Because we are special, we were and are blessed with Vibranium and the favor of Bast. D'Ciggs is one of many Wakandans who incarnate this truth."

"Well said, Sister Queen." The All-Mother concurs.

"And where is T'Challa?" Ramonda prodded.

"He is..." The All-Mother looks at her Mirror of Truth again."...grappling with the Forces of Hel."

All about...layers of infinite ice arcs, spans, and towers in scarifying, soul gobbling grandeur. Cold beyond the cold of graves, the wintry embrace of lifelessness, filled every atom of this place. Pitiless, frozen, howls of hate echoed in this den beyond Death itself. Terrible fleshless creatures animated by the power of Dead souls...far more daunting and ferocious than the more physical skeletons TChalla previously encountered on the mountain of Saralynth the Cruel...surged in literally near infinite number at TChalla. Unyielding were they, ever thirsting for mortal flesh and desirous of unending torments, were they. Immune to all but potent magicks were they. Undead eye sockets fixed upon the magnificent figure of TChalla, King of Wakanda, they charged and clawed and gnashed at him. They tore and ripped and grabbed at him.

They were powerless to harm him.

For TChalla was engulfed within a penumbra of brilliant gold glory, pulsating power that these minions of Hel...which feared nothing but the Wrath of their terrible Queen...cowered and trembled before. None dared to breach the perimeter of the sphere of golden brilliance--dazzling like a miniature sun aborning--and that was wise. For they would perish instantly amid a flare of holy golden energy.

"You are neither worthy of battle with nor possess any hope of victory against The Lord of the Wakandas!" TChalla's proud, powerful voice rolled over the thronging multitudes of fleshless beasts of Hel.

And these beasts snarled. And they gnashed their dreadfully sharp, chipped and rotted fangs. And they raged and hungered and roared.

And they cowered and fell back before the face of TChalla, The Black Panther.

Until one...arising as a Giant, a terrible incarnation of destruction worthy of dread even amongst the Realm of The Dead Dishonoured...heaved its armored body into view. It carried a terrible double bladed battle axe, one blade crafted from Asgardian Obsidian and wreathed with thaumaturgic markings with a skill rivaling the finest smiths of Surtur. Its fell stygian sharp ends impossibly simultaneously thronged with shadow and yet smoldering with sharp bright arcane flames that could cook the very soul of whatever unfortunate smote by it. The other blade...cunningly crafted from a lethal crystal so white as to be colorless, and smothered with cold beyond the life devouring void yawning beyond the grave...also had its every inch covered with ancient runes, sigils and flowing script of great power, glittering from within from some horrific energy beyond the ken of mortals.

Towering 20 feet and more in height, this armored Demon spoke in a voice deep as the bowels of its infernal home dimension. "Turn back while you still can, flesh!" It held its daunting weapon with an extreme aggression that at any split second would clearly break whatever essentially nonexistent and feeble restraint that this creature could muster. "SO COMMANDS KRAMPUS, SON OF HEL!!"

TChalla gazed upon this netherworldly incarnation of death and destruction beyond Death and Destruction with complete and utter unflappable calm. And stated with royal dismissiveness. "You are not Krampus."

"I AM--!!"

"...not Krampus," T'Challa interrupted. "Krampus was Lord of Yule. The opposite to kindly Saint Nicholas of the North...the original European Santa Claus. Saint Nicholas...the original Saint Nicholas, the source for and inspiration for Santa Claus...was actually a Black man whose bloodline of course spanned to Afrika. He was sainted in The Catholic Church. Krampus, Lord of Yule, swatted bad children to make them good. Krampus was NOT evil. Krampus would NOT abide among the throngs of Hel. Especially The Dishonoured Dead. Which means that Hel is attempting...and failing...to distract me and mislead me about your identity."

"I AM--"

"...and Krampus doesn't carry a dreadful weapon of Fire and Ice. Nor does he have a comprehensive mastery of the ancient art Lausatok, the most aggressive and fierce form of the Viking fighting art Glima. You betray high proficiency in Lausatok by your stance and grip upon your double bladed battle axe..."

...swift as hate, Krampus leaped at T'Challa and unloaded a lethal blow powered with Thor level strength that would cleave The King of the Wakandas from right shoulder to left hip should he make the remotest contact.

Without bothering to raise his arms in defense, T'Challa moved a fraction of a yard at exactly the right time, and laconically leaned a fraction of a inch to his right at exactly the right degree. The dreadful weapon and the gruesome death it promised gored a trail of scorching flame and frigid fury harmlessly passed TChalla.

In a twinkling, the behemoth reversed the downward angular slash into a wicked, cunning horizontal backslash at groin height. Only to find that TChalla was gone. Nowhere in sight.

Krampus, on high alert, cannily and swiftly scanned his environs. Casting left and right, forward and back for his foe.

"Krampus is not known for his canniness. Yet you manifest precisely this as you search for me. " TChalla's calm, analytical voice. From above.

The King of the Wakandas was standing on the long terrible twin horns sprouting from his head, balanced like the Afrikan Grey Crane on one leg with such lightness of foot that Krampus could only register his presence by sight.

Snarling, Krampus contracted the thews in his massively mighty neck and shook The King of the Wakandas free of the horns on his head, and as the King was hurled free of his perch, hewed and slashed at his form until it was bloody ribbons...

...wait. The King. Was gone again.

"A great skill in the deadly art of Lausatok. A magnificent and terrible weapon of Fire and Ice. " TChalla quietly commented, while he stood unperturbed and unmoving a dozen yards away.

Krampus whirled and pounced with a blinding quickness that his massive girth and size belied, and this time aimed the unfailingly accurate blow down upon the skull of the arrogant, yammering flesh King.

Which The Black Panther not only avoided as effortlessly as before, he combined the slick evasion with the devious wrist throw of the Orisha Nana Buruku, as taught to Khorei Shabaka The Black Pantheress from 4300 years ago...when she became the first and only nonAsgardian to throw Volstagg the Vast in a wrestling contest. Huge Krampus was lifted from his feet as if he was but a draught of air, and crashed to the ground. Spread eagled before his comparatively small foe.

A foe that now straddled his great skull, while using that cunning wristlock to hold his own battle axe of fire and ice to his throat. If he moved, he would be complicit in severing his own head.

TChalla saw the decision forming in the eyes of Krampus, and received the confirmation of the suspicion that formed in his mind just prior to the moment that the innumerable legions of Hel's Dead didn't press suicidally into his holy golden gleaming penumbra.

At the last moment, T'Challa removed the great battle axe at his foe's throat, just as Krampus surged with the legendary berserker fury of the Viking North directly at him.

Using every ounce of his unanswerable Thor level strength, Krampus hurled blows that could shatter mountain tops into nothingness at TChalla. And T'Challa was a burst of speed, quickness and agile grace unmatched. Twirling like the tornadoes of Oya, TChalla was ever a spin, a guileful twist out of reach. Every time the great girth of Krampus seemed to trap TChalla in its fatal shadow and he unleashed the fatal thunder of his wrath, TChalla leaped away and struck as the lightning of Shango leaps away from the encroaching dark clouds and strikes the earth below.

Until at last TChalla...at the most devious moment...employed the treacherous, tricky trips and sweeping techniques of Eshu. He Who Opens and Closes The Way. Before Krampus knew what befell him, his large feet and legs--which by all rights should be too massive, too long, too powerful in sinew and far too ponderous for this flesh King to lift--were swept into the air, and he fell with a huge CRASH that shook the terrain of Hel so terribly that all of the Dishonoured Dead within the immediate vicinity were tossed to and fro, lost their footing and were violently flung upon their faces.

Swift as a hunting cat upon its downed prey, TChalla was upon his foe. "You are not Krampus," he repeated. "The battle axe of Fire and Ice. The great skill of Lausatok. The huge strength far beyond anything that Krampus could hope to marshal.

You are THE EXECUTIONER. Former demon vassal of Hel. Who gallantly gave his life to save his heroic former foes; my heroic friends. Your spirit should have passed to Valhalla, Hall of the Honored Dead. But Hel must have hijacked your journey. Maliciously, viciously wreaked her vengeance upon you. Cast you into this malformed body. Then sought to claim your spirit for eternity by setting you upon me. If you slew me, she clearly thought that both of our spirits would be hers. Yours because you dishonored yourself and your previously noble sacrifice by killing the honorable King of the Wakandas. Friend of the Odinson. And I because...I trespassed without permission into her domain while in possession of the treacherous, priceless treasures I carry; which she clearly believes are the birthright of Asgard and should be hers to do as she wills.

I suspected such was your fate.

Your other friends amongst The Avengers mistakenly believed you to be Fallen.

Except I. Except Thor.

Yes. Your former greatest foe: Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard. Thor. Who could not move against Hel directly due to the binding orders of Odin forbidding Thor from seeking vengeance directly upon that faithless Trickster Loki. Know this: I spoke to Thor. He could have sought to bar my way; and few know how such a conflict between he and I would have ended. But he did not. And he knew that I would come upon you. And he knew what I would do when I did.

Hel abandoned you. Loki abandoned you. But Thor did not. And I did not. I came from Midgard, through great perils, partly to rescue you. Remember this well, EXECUTIONER.

Receive now, the honor that is your due. Return ye, to The Hall of The Honoured Spirits. " And TChalla closed his eyes, summoning the unmatched sorcerous power of T'zarr The Golden, The Black Panther of 6100 years agone, and Sorcerer Supreme of The Earth Dimension of his time.

" Snúið yður til lands lifenda, land feðra þinna..." he began to intone. Translated from the ancient Norse and Icelandic, the incantation T'Challa recited began thusly: "Return ye to The Land of the Living, The Land of Your Fathers..."

In the impenetrable shadows of The EverDark, the huge and hulking Baylor Devil knelt. "The flesh King found, defeated, and unfettered The Executioner, precisely as you foretold, My Queen.  In so doing, it confirmed that it has your talismans. It summoned powerful magicks, but the taste of its magicks was impure. It seemed to be channeling the magicks of others, rather than summoning its own magicks that it cultivated through its own studies of The Mysteries." No response to this immensely powerful minion of The Realms Below was given, or expected. Bowing deeply, the huge and hulking Baylor Devil took its leave.

Your move, Panther King... the very darkness of her realm rippled with her thoughts. The lust for the power of her terrible great uncle's artifacts and talisman in her heart was unsurpassed by any. Even Loki, her father, lusted not more...plotted not more...than did she for these items. Your move. And we shall see, what we shall see... Hela remained in The EverDark.

"What shall we see when we get there?" Flea asked aloud, to no one in particular.

"We shall see what we are supposed to see," N'Iix replied.

"I was talking to myself," Flea huffed.

"Then do so silently; do not use our shared commlinks." N'lix retorted. "Focus on the business at hand. The Queen requires target list confirmation."

Flea and N'lix...two of the elite members of Queen Shuri's unit she formed as a Princess Regent and named her Princess Regent Intelligence Division Executives, aka P.R.I.D.E.... worked their amazing computer magic on the most advanced machines Earth has ever known.

Flea pipes up. "Confirming Identities of: Prester John. Codename: KING PRESTER JOHN.Time Traveler. Crusader. TL [Threat Level ] 6. Tomi Shisido, Codename: GORGON. Leader and King of The Fell...a group of Ninja, scientists and mystics so extreme that they were expelled from The Hand and Hydra. TL: 7. Confirming identities of: Baron Mordo. King of MordoWorld. TL: 9. And...are you getting this, N'Iix?..."

N'lix chimes in."Yes. I'm confirming your readings there. It's him. Maximus of the Inhumans. KING Maximus, for the nonce...until Black Bolt comes back from wherever he is and sets things aright, again. Confirming identities of: Lord Ghaur. Murderous leader of the Deviant Lemurians. Inkosazana Zanda...known to the West as Princess Zanda, the returned daughter of her mother, Mwene [ Ruler ] Adiambo of Narobia. She has DEFINITELY upped her game. And...we seem to have clear confirmation of The Prince of Orphans being present. As well as...do you have this, Flea..?"

"Yes indeed," Flea says from his cloaked low-space Earth orbiting supertech superlab. "That is the current Yu Ti of K'un Lun. Which explains the presence of The Prince of Orphans. Hahahaha. Did you know that Ruling Prince D'Ciggs calls The Prince Of Orphans...'The P.O.O.'? Hahahaha. That is sooo funny!!" Flea realizes that N'lix is not sharing in the levity of the moment. "Relax, N'lix. You re so uptight. Bad for your blood pressure. Bad for your sex life. Stuff like that."

Stony silence from N'Iix. Flea makes an exaggerated show of sighing exasperatedly and returning to work on his computer. "Tabulating TL's for all present. Ranging from 15 to 4. In short? This is a group of Ruthless Royalty best not to be around. I have no confirmation on the main target. Do you--?"

"The Queen herself provided positive identification as you spoke," N'lix interjected. "Namor is there."

"Wait," Flea said. Flabbergasted. "The QUEEN HAS EYES ON NAMOR? Namor is not on my scans. Where is he? How did she--?"

"She is a Black Panther. Panthers find a way. Always." N'lix intones.

"Church," Flea agreed. Then smiled to himself. He is aware that his Americanisms annoy N'lix, so he makes sure to needle N'lix at least 3 times a day with them.

"Target on the move," Flea calls out. "Some kind of energy surge is taking him off my tracers. Lost him!! N'Iix? Do something impressive!"

"Working on it..." N'Iix replied, hands flying over his megatech equipment. "...he's getting away..."

Zakar, Chief of Security, comes on. Deep voice unruffled. "The Queen has him."

"How..?" Flea began.

"Of course." N'Iix mused aloud. " Namor must be using blended Vulcan-Minerva tech. Very impressive. We should be able to track that, though. Namor's tech people must be compounding this with a Meta-Algorithmic Particle Phase Wave Skein to disrupt or delay our tracking..."

"We have access to those trackers but we have to cobble that together right now, " Flea supplied. "But Namor...fast as he flies? He'll be out of here in seconds." Flea paused a moment, thinking. "Why wouldn't Namor use Slide Tech or something like their Spatial Drive Transporters, instead of flight? Flying would leave him and whatever retinue he brings with him susceptible to ambush. I know that...even though Atlantis has highly advanced space-faring tech that could and does send them regularly amongst the stars, like we Wakandans...Atlanteans don't tend to do as much space travel as we do because Atlanteans love that water. If given a choice, they'd rather be closer to water, than away from it. But on the other hand? Though nigh impossible, some enterprising tech god could possibly hijack him mid-transport should Namor seek to instantaneously transport himself from one point to the other, using the kind of tech I just cited... "

"Unnecessary." Zakar...never really the most talkative guy...supplied.

"Two sentences from Zakar...within the same month?" Flea gasped. "We really MUST be in The Last Days. Again."

Zakar ignored Flea. As usual.

"...still don't have Namor, yet, on the trackers..." N'Iix murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration as he and Flea coordinated their attack on Namor's Vulcan-Minerva tech.

"...and we won't yet, for a short time longer at least." Flea commented, even as he and N'Iix worked with rapid cunning at unraveling the marvelous defenses of The King of Atlantis. "Right now, we're at a stalemate. Will take us a minute to turn this situation to our advantage. Zakar...why do you think that jacking Namor's transport or tracking him is unnecessary?"

No response from Zakar.

Flea waited a bit longer, and as Zakar remained silent, quipped: "The Z-Man must have used up his conversation quota for the month with those far too loquacious two sentences of his..."

An explosion of Bastet particles flashed with feline speed and stealth from absolutely nowhere, striking with flawless accuracy what appeared to be a completely empty and innocent stretch of clouds. Immediately, a hypertech fleet of Asgardian warriors sprang into view, their glimmering techno-magic armor flickering with dangerously depleting energies. Their members spiraling unconscious to the beautiful flat plane of indigo ocean water below.

In their midst...scarred from the Bastet particle blast, smoke billowing from his beautiful, bruised but not bleeding flesh; the legendarily terrifying scowl marring his handsome, haughty and noble mein...Namor.

100 meters directly across from him, garbed head to toe in her incredibly formidable Ukweli Ngao Ya Mwili Ya Yemoja...The Truth Armor of Yemoja...Mkali Chui Malkia Shuri [ translated: "The Fierce, Bright, Beautiful Leopard/Panther Queen" ]...confronted The King of Atlantis.

"You have courted your final destruction, by assaulting the person of The King of Atlantis!" Namor's voice echoed with the wrath of the deep seas. Ponderous waves crashed below, as if reflecting the menacing mood of the magnificent Monarch of the Mysteries of the Seas.

"You have attempted to assault The King and Queen of The Kingdom of The Wakandas," Mkali Chui Malkia Shuri replied. "Prepare to be punished unto death most agonizing." Her brilliant eyes glittering with the lethality of her Goddess, her voice thrumming with the fierce, terrifying beauty of a dozen roaring panthers.

"ATTEMPTED?" Namor sneeringly quoted Mkali Malkia Shuri. " I have vanquished both you AND your ever scheming brother. I have brought haughty Wakanda to her knees, for her trespasses against Atlantis and the world. And now...for your boundless arrogance, for your unforgivable attack upon my royal being...will I expel you from the Land of the Living."

" You have never successfully assaulted The King my brother, myself, nor The Kingdom of The Wakandas," Mkali Malkia Shuri retorted sharply. The very air shimmered with the intimidating enmity she emanated. "Despite falling several times at the hands of my grandfather Azziri The Wise, you have failed to learn the single lesson that all must learn: SEE WAKANDA AND DIE. I will instruct you in this lesson with thoroughgoing finality. But first...you will scream!!"

Reality Energy seized Namor in its unrelenting claws, and Namor screamed a scream that has never been screamed before.