MidReal Story
Rebel Alliance: Wakanda's Last Stand
Scenario: Kilmonger & black panther team up to fight the nazi regime
Create my version of this story
I was born in a world of darkness.
My father was murdered by his brother, and my mother left me to die in the cold.
I was saved by a woman who raised me as her own, but I was still an outcast.
I was an orphan, a bastard, a nobody.
But I refused to be forgotten.
I refused to be ignored.
I refused to be weak.
I trained every day, pushing myself to my limits and beyond.
I fought in the pits, killing anyone who stood in my way.
I rose through the ranks, becoming the best warrior Wakanda had ever seen.
But it wasn’t enough.
I wanted more.
I wanted revenge.
And I would do whatever it took to get it.
The year is 1941, and the Nazis have taken over Wakanda.
They have enslaved our people, destroyed our culture, and stolen our resources.
But they made one crucial mistake.
They underestimated me.
I am Erik Killmonger, the Black Panther, and I will not rest until I have avenged my family and freed my people from the clutches of these evil invaders.
I knelt before the king, my heart pounding in my chest.
The massive golden gates of the palace were adorned with the symbols of the five tribes of Wakanda, and I could feel the eyes of their elite warriors upon me.
I was outnumbered, outmatched, and exhausted from days of fighting, but I refused to show weakness.
The Black Panther stared down at me from his throne, his sleek black panther suit gleaming in the sunlight.
He was regal in appearance, with a muscular build and tribal scars on his face.
I had recognized him immediately when I saw him in the village, but I had not expected him to be so young.
But appearances could be deceiving.
The Black Panther was wise and just, and he had proven himself to be a formidable opponent.
I knew that if I was going to defeat him, I would have to be at the top of my game.
“Rise, Erik Killmonger,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.
“We do not kill children in Wakanda.”
He was right, of course, but I knew that my life was still in danger.
The Black Panther’s warriors were among the best in the world, and they would not hesitate to kill me if he gave the order.
But he did not.
Instead, he asked me why I had come to Wakanda, and what I wanted from him.
I told him that I knew about the Nazi occupation, and that I wanted to help him fight back.
I told him about my father, and how he had been murdered by his brother on the eve of their coronation.
I told him about my mother, and how she had left me to die in the snow.
And most importantly, I told him about my training, and how I had become the best warrior in all of Wakanda.
I asked him for a place in his army, and for permission to fight by his side as an equal.
The Black Panther listened to my story with an impassive expression, but I could see the wheels turning in his head.
He was considering my offer, weighing the risks against the potential rewards.
And then he made his decision.
“The sun sets on us all,” he said.
“But it is not yet time for it to set on me.”
A split second later, he lunged at me with his claws bared, ready to end this once and for all.
I met him head-on, slashing with my own weapons as we clashed in a brutal battle of strength and skill.
This was not the most efficient way to travel, but we did not want our enemies to see us coming.
As we trekked through the harsh terrain of the Jabari lands, Nakia and I were silent for a long time.
We had been friends since we were children, and she knew me better than anyone else in the world.
She was also one of the few people who was not afraid to speak her mind around me, which was why I valued her opinion so highly.
“T’Challa,” she finally spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Why did you let him go?”
I sighed heavily and continued on without looking at her.
This was not going to be an easy conversation, and I was not looking forward to it.
“You know why,” I replied after a moment.
“Because he is still just a boy.”
I nodded silently, acknowledging the truth of her words.
Erik Killmonger was young, even for a warrior of Wakanda, and he had clearly been through a lot in his short life.
I could not imagine what he must have gone through in order to become the person he was today, but I knew that it could not have been easy.
“You gave him a second chance,” Nakia continued, “but how many chances do you think we can afford to give him?”
I did not answer immediately, and we continued on in silence for a while longer.
Nakia had a point, as she often did.
We were at war, and our enemies would not hesitate to kill us if they had the chance.
If I let Erik go, there was a very real chance that he would come back for me one day, seeking revenge.
And even if he did not, there was no guarantee that he would not use the knowledge he had gained against us in the future.
But I was also a king, and as such, I had been raised on certain ideals.
The belief that every man deserved a second chance, no matter how bad things may have been in the past.
The hope that even our enemies could be swayed to the path of righteousness, if only we gave them the opportunity.
It was a foolish hope, perhaps, and one that I had all but abandoned long ago.
But I still believed in it, even now.
Even in times like these.
“We are all children of Wakanda,” I said finally, “and I cannot bring myself to kill one of our own.”
I could feel Nakia’s eyes on me as I spoke, and I knew that she was not convinced.
But she also knew that I would not be swayed on this point, no matter how much she argued with me.
So she remained silent, and we continued on our journey in peace.
But as the hours passed and the sun began to set on the horizon, I could see the doubt in her eyes begin to grow.
And for the first time since I had made my decision, I began to wonder if maybe she was right.
No one answered when we knocked on the door of the Jabari village.
The warriors who guarded the entrance were dead, their bodies left to rot in the hot Wakandan sun.
They had been killed quickly and efficiently, their throats slit and their hearts removed with surgical precision.
There were no other signs of a struggle, which meant that whoever had done this was either very good at what they did or very powerful.
T’Challa asked as we stepped over the bodies of the fallen warriors.
I shook my head.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“This is not the work of a man, at least not one that I know.”
“Then who could it be?”
“I don’t know,” I repeated.
“But we’ll find out soon enough.”
We continued on in silence, following the same path that we had taken on our way into the mountains.
It was slow going, as the terrain was rough and difficult to navigate, but we were both too stubborn to let that stop us.
So we pressed on, fighting through the pain and exhaustion as best we could until we finally reached the edge of the Jabari lands.
T’Challa asked quietly as he looked out over the landscape below.
I closed my eyes and listened for a moment, letting my senses stretch out into the distance.
But there was nothing there, save for a few birds and the rustling of the wind through the trees.
I opened my eyes again and shook my head.
“No one,” I said.
“But that doesn’t mean they’re not out there.”
T’Challa nodded and started down the mountain, moving quickly and quietly through the underbrush.
I followed close behind, my heart pounding in my chest and my nerves on edge.
I hated this feeling, the sense that someone was watching me, following me wherever I went.
It made my skin crawl and set my teeth on edge, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
So I shook it off and focused on the task at hand, moving swiftly and silently through the forest until we reached the bottom of the mountain.
T’Challa said as he stopped in front of me.
I closed my eyes and listened for a moment, letting my senses stretch out into the distance as far as I could.
But there was nothing there save for the steady beating of my own heart.
I opened my eyes again and shook my head.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“But they’re close.”
T’Challa nodded and started forward again, moving quickly and quietly through the underbrush.
I followed close behind, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword as we moved deeper into the forest.
But there was no need for it; there was no sign of danger here, at least not yet.
So I relaxed and focused on the task at hand, following T’Challa until he finally stopped in front of a large tree that stood at the edge of a small clearing.
He waited for a moment, listening carefully to the sounds around him, before turning back to look at me with a small smile on his face.
“They’re here,” he said softly.
“They’ve been following us this whole time.”
I frowned and looked around for a moment before finally seeing them: a group of men hiding in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, their faces covered by heavy cloths and their bodies hidden beneath layers of thick fur and armor.
They were watching us with wary eyes, but there was no hostility in their gaze—not yet, at least.
