Begins several years before The Black Panther Movie and ends several years after. This is an alternate universe (with certain events from the comic and the cinematic universes which have been altered and intermingled together) containing multiple M...
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Black spots clouding his vision, Erik grunted as he attempted to stay upright. He looked down at the dagger buried in his chest knowing immediately that was the kill strike. "Helluva move."
Even as he stood dying as T'Challa's enemy, his cousin looked sadden and regretful. Erik was reluctantly affected by T'Challa's wave of emotion, so much so he kept talking. Spilling everything that perhaps should have been said when they first met, if he were a different person with a different life.
"My pops said Wakanda was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He promised he was going to show it to me one day. Can you believe that? A kid from Oakland running around believing in fairy tales. Shit.."
Erik's head dipped slightly as he was having trouble holding it up now. "Maybe that's what got me through my childhood... after he died."
T'challa looked away obviously just as affected by Erik as Erik was by him. He made a decision and stood up to carry his cousin to the uppermost point of the panther mines. They had battled all day and the sun was setting now, golds, oranges and reds splayed across the distant horizon. They say the trickster god steals away the sun at dusk to carry it down into the shadows of the underworld until Bast wakes from her slumber to rescue the sun at daybreak.
"It's beautiful." Erik looked out across Wakanda wondering why he had not stopped to appreciate beauty like this more often while he lived. He gasped for breath to hold on a bit longer. Just to take it all in.
TChalla watched his dying cousin accept his fate, finally understanding why the underworld was just a place to wait. Anything and anyone could eventually be redeemed and should be given a chance to do so. Even Erik. He crouched down next to the other young man and offered. "Maybe we can still heal you."
Erik's face once open to the sunset now grew dark, hostile, and wary again. "Why? So you can just lock me up?"
"Nah." Erik shook his head firmly cutting his eyes. He was done with this touching moment. He turned away from the beautiful view and the light, remembering what Unc use to say. Watch for too long and she'll make you soft.
Apparently no one told this to T'challa. Erik's lip curled in disgust. His cousin was weak. Wakanda was weak. In a matter of a few weeks he had managed to gut its soft insides from the belly out. T'challa would soon learn just how weak he and his country truly was. If he only knew. Erik sneered. "Just bury me in the ocean with my ancestors that jumped from the ships cause they knew death was better than bondage."
Then defiantly Erik pulled the dagger out of his chest to make sure he died before his disgustingly honorable cousin had a chance to try and save him. He watched as T'challa winced in pain, mourning him already.
But Erik only smirked smugly as his body collapsed. As usual, the clever young man knew something T'challa didn't know and that was the catch. With Erik, there was always a catch. Because Erik's ancestors didn't die at sea. They made it all the way to America's shores, through the abuse of American slavery, and through the continued hell of the staunch oppression that followed. Unlike T'Challa's ancestors who complacently hid from the world, Erik's maternal ancestors rebelliously withstood and survived. Now that was true resilience and strength. Erik had that blood. It was a part of him. He was proud of it. And Erik Killmonger was nothing if not resilient and strong. He always had something else up his sleeve. Always. Never count him out too soon.
