For all the bodies that littered the ground around Rudyarda’s crumbling Tower of Truth, there was even more gunfire. And the Black Panther was in the middle of it all. Fighting.

Along with his young, female aide, M’swa, and American documentarian, Jeffrey Hoffman, the Panther had been brought to Rudyarda by the mysterious Ozymandias, in an attempt to overthrow the African nation’s tyrannical king, Cecil Nobolo, and his puppet master, Futura. However, engaged in battle outside of Nobolo’s Royal Court, the Panther, M’swa, and Ozymandias had been captured, while Jeffrey managed to escape. When the Panther awoke in Futura’s lair in the Tower of Truth, he had learned that the clairvoyant villainess had spent much of her life setting up the downfall of the Panther’s kingdom, Wakanda, in order to witness the birth of the Great Child in that nation. Futura had also informed M’swa that her recent “waking dreams” were the young Wakandan’s latent power. M’swa had then freed Ozymandias and Black Panther, and Futura escaped the Tower. All the while, the Ivory Ghost, summoned by Jeffrey Hoffman, had assembled a band of Rudyardan rebels, and attacked the Tower. Black Panther, M’swa, and Ozymandias--revealed to be a traitor--fled the Tower, and met with the Ghost’s rebels. Together, they set out to free Rudyarda from Nobolo’s rule.*

(*Whew! Just see the last two issues!--Sam)

Now.

With every round of fire and every fallen warrior, Nobolo’s downfall was the rebels’ goal.

With every fist thrust at the Rudyardan soldiers across the battlefield, Nobolo’s downfall was Jeffrey’s goal.

With every blast of his rifle, Nobolo’s downfall was the Ivory Ghost’s goal.

With every flying kick and backhand chop, Nobolo’s downfall was M’swa’s goal.

With every crippled soldier, every bent gun barrel, every disabled tank, every felled helicopter, and every hope-filled Rudyardan, Nobolo’s downfall was the Black Panther’s goal.

And they would succeed!

“Your path is open, M’swa! To the NightStar, now!” Black Panther ordered over the din of gunfire.

M’swa nodded and began her sprint toward the Panther’s black quinjet, which sat grounded two-hundred yards away, unused since its arrival a day earlier. In that time, it was obvious, Nobolo’s soldiers--unable to take control of the jet, due to T’Challa’s sophisticated encryption code--had vandalized and attempted to scrap the NightStar. Battered and unsightly, it was still in perfect working order. And it would help win this war, if M’swa could make her way to its cockpit.

“I’m going with her!” Jeffrey proclaimed as he started toward M’swa’s direction.

“No!” M’swa replied with a stern look. “Perhaps, by some miracle, you’ve gained some courage in these past few days! But I can’t be bothered with watching over you!”

“Missy, I DO have courage now...because of YOU!” Jeffrey replied, blind to the carnage around them as he looked into her chocolate eyes . “And, yes, Missy, you’re blushing.”

As Black Panther leapt onto the iron tread-guards of the last remaining tank, he looked back at his two bickering companions, and then to his ivory-skinned elder. “Uncle--er, Ghost!” he called out, holding his tongue from his childhood title for Joe Morris. “See these two to the NightStar!”

“Aye-aye, kid!” the Ghost replied as he sprayed a swarm of Nobolo’s grunts--all in the legs--T’Chaka’s son wouldn’t let him kill anyone this day. “But for what it’s worth, I’d trust Jeff with her! Heck, after the way he’s come through, I’d put in a request with Hope for some sort of honorary warrior status for him.”

Behind his tattered, black mask, the Panther’s brow furrowed. “Hope?”

“Yeah, Hope Nobolo,” the Ghost replied, firing off more shots, and ducking under just as many. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Ha! You thought I did all this by myself? Hope’s the one that put together these rebels! She’s the one behind the revolution!”

“Nobolo’s wife organized this?” the Panther gasped. “Where is she now!"

“The Tower,” the Ghost replied in reverie. “Let’s just hope God’s with her.”

“I’ll do you one better, and save her myself,” the Panther vowed as he jumped down from the tank and charged through the battle, toward the Tower’s nearby entrance.

“Definitely T’Chaka’s kid,” the Ghost muttered with a smile as he backed out of his firefight with the distant Rudyardan troops and met with M’swa and Jeffrey. “Come on, you two, we’ve got a plane to catch!”

The Ivory Ghost, M’swa, and Jeffrey started for the NightStar.

By then, the Black Panther was already on the Tower of Truth’s second floor.

***

“How did this happen?” King Cecil Nobolo asked, removing his glasses to wipe nervous sweat from his face. “HOW?!?!?!”

Hope Nobolo sat in bed, under the covers, a hardcover book in her soft hands opened, seemingly indifferent to the gunfire and half-life cries that echoed in the hallway just outside the electronically sealed doors. At her husband’s flustered question, she merely shrugged her shoulders and continued to read.

“I did everything right!” Nobolo continued, pacing the room, and shuddering at every gun blast he heard from the corridor. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and his heart wasn’t what it had been as a young, would-be dictator. It would fail him at any moment, he was certain. “I knew the people would try to rebel, and I took steps to halt a revolution before it could ever start. I cleaned the neediest from the streets! I stifled the most disenfranchised with torture and public executions! I bribed the nation’s rich, just as I bribed your slave-trading father--accepted his daughter in marriage in return for his non-participation in my regime. I was brilliant! And I hid it all so very well from the rest of the world! So...HOW?!?!?!”

Hope finally looked up from her book. “The Black Panther.”

Inspecting the door’s locks for the third time, Nobolo’s eyes shot toward her, glaring, filled with anger. “The Panther...” he spit. “Indeed, King T’Challa has been a thorn in my side, but even he could not have assembled a revolt as organized as this in such a short time.”

“No, of course not,” Hope replied, disinterested.

“How can you sit in bed and read?! MY KINGDOM IS FALLING!!!”

“It’s Thoreau,” Hope replied. “Civil Disobedience.”

Baffled, Nobolo fumed.

“Sorry, sir. I’ll put the book down,” she replied with an enigmatic grin, then began to finger the control panel on the nightstand beside the bed. When his reign had begun, Cecil had arranged a room for them at the Tower, though he preferred to reside at the Royal Court. While the Court had more luxuries than the Tower, the small panel in this room was especially convenient for Hope at this moment, for it controlled the room’s lighting, temperature...and the door’s locking mechanism.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Nobolo asked, helpless.

With a devious smile, she simply waved her hand softly in the air--goodbye--and said nothing. A moment later, with a mocking hiss, the door slid open, and a tall, Armani-clad, black man stood in the doorway, his finger on the trigger of an Uzi: Darren “Top Cat” Carter. The man who Nobolo had abducted from New York City. The man who was destined to murder the Americanistic Panther in a display of irony. The man who had been disrespected earlier that day. The man who would kill King Nobolo.

“You don’t toy with me, fool!” Carter declared.

Then he sprayed the room.

***

So many floors, but she was nowhere to be found. So many of Nobolo’s fallen troops, but none would tell him where she was. So much worry--the Panther had to find Hope Nobolo.

He continued up the stairs, toward the ninth floor, but was greeted with a fiery surprise--instinctively, he sprung into the air as streams of fire raced around the stairwell corner and down the steps. The flames tickled the bottom of his feet as he descended into the fire and sprinted up the steps to escape its grasp.

He reached the top of the stairwell, and prepared to turn and ascend to the ninth floor, but was thrown back against the solid, concrete wall by a mighty fist. As the Panther slid limply down the wall and to the ground, he viewed his attacker through blurred vision, as the fur-covered behemoth confidently made his way down the fire-filled stairway.

“This is the last time we meet, T’Challa,” the Man-Ape proclaimed. “Today, you die!”

***

“Check ‘em out--they’re scattering!” Jeffrey Hoffman reported as he peered out of the cockpit window of the NightStar as it made its fourth pass over the battlefield. Indeed, Nobolo’s soldiers tried furiously to escape the shadow of the soaring conveyance that loomed overhead.

“We hardly fired a shot at them,” M’swa replied. “Apparently, the NightStar alone took the fight out of Nobolo’s men.”

“Heck, even I’M intimidated by this thing! It’s mighty fast!” the Ivory Ghost said. “I never knew T’Challa would grow up to be such a whiz!”

“You’ve got no idea,” Jeffrey said.

“We’ve an incoming communication from the rebels,” M’swa reported. “Opening the comm channel.”

A moment later, an excited Rudyardan’s voice filled the cockpit. “Nobolo’s army of evil has dispersed. Now there is only one thing left to do! A thousand thanks for your help, our friends from Wakanda!”

“One thing left to do?” Jeffrey repeated. “What’s he mean?”

“I cannot say,” M’swa answered. “He has closed off the channel.”

“Great,” Ivory Ghost sighed as he looked out the cockpit. “Lookie there at that....”

They did, and saw a mangled, Rudyardan jet streaking toward the flaming Tower of Truth.

“They’ve confiscated one of Nobolo’ jets--they’re gonna blow the Tower to smithereens--get rid of Nobolo for good,” the Ghost continued.

“But--but, they can’t!” Jeffrey exclaimed. “T’Challa’s still in there!”

***

Black Panther continued to slip in and out of consciousness--the only thing that kept him awake was the rancorous beating that the Man-Ape delivered. There seemed to be no escape for the Panther, as Man-Ape--adorned in his shameful, white gorilla guise--gripped him by the throat and trapped him in the corner of the fiery stairwell, driving his fists into the Panther’s body. He would not let go, and he would not stop.

“I only wish there was more time before this tower crumbles,” Man-Ape grunted. “I would tear your limbs from your body to garnish my Wakandan throne with. However, I WILL see my other desires fulfilled.”

His body had gone numb long ago, but the Panther heard two ribs crack.

“When my reign begins, I will see your empty-handed servants to the Serpent Valley to fend for themselves.”

He heard his nose break.

“I will condemn half of your citizenry to the Vibranium Mound, to work unending, until they succumb to their own weakness.”

He heard his shoulder dislocate.

“The other half, I will starve of their livelihood, until they realize the power of their mighty king: M’baku, the Man-Ape!”

He heard his throat begin to collapse in the Man-Ape’s grip.

“Ah. Yes. And your sweet M’swa--I will see her in my private chamber. Every night.”

He heard...

...enough.

The Panther assembled enough strength to thrust his leg into the Man-Ape’s massive chest, momentarily halting the goliath’s punishment. Another kick to the jaw, and Man-Ape let lose of his grasp.

After taking a breath of much needed air, the Panther noted that the room was quickly filling with thick, black smoke. Before Man-Ape could recover, the Panther leapt up the stairway, toward the ninth floor.

“I assume you seek to rescue Nobolo’s wife,” Man-Ape called up the steps. “Why risk so much for that lowly wench? Your quest is both despicable and futile, T’Challa.”

The Panther stopped and glared back down into the blinding smoke. “What are you getting at, M’baku?”

“The woman is dead,” Man-Ape replied with a deranged delight. “I sent someone to kill her and Nobolo only moments ago.”

The Panther’s heart fell into his stomach.

His eyes turned to slits.

His hands turned to fists.

He glided down the stairway and tackled the unsuspecting Man-Ape.

It was on.

***

The Rudyardan jet approached the Tower of Truth, its missiles no doubt intended for the Tower’s base.

“We’ve no way of warning T’Challa,” M’swa moaned.

The NightStar’s cockpit was silent for one tense moment, and then--

“Chicken!” Jeffrey burst out.

“Huh?” M’swa and Ivory Ghost replied simultaneously.

“Fly directly into the jet’s path, head on with them. All goes right, the pilot swerves before we do,” Jeffrey explained.

“I LIKE this KID!” Ivory Ghost laughed.

M’swa nodded. “I don’t know what brave warrior has possessed you this day, Jeffrey, but I praise him now. Setting a course to intercept the jet.”

The NightStar turned and circled the Tower until it was positioned several hundred kilometers from the swiftly approaching Rudyardan jet.

“Brilliant as it is, I don’t believe we’re doin’ this,” the Ghost said.

“The rebels have opened the channel NOW,” M’swa said in amusement, glancing down at the control panel.

She pressed a command on the panel, and the earlier rebel voice resounded through the cockpit once again, now humbled and confused.

“Friends, what are you doing?”

“We cannot allow you to destroy the Tower,” M’swa replied, composed. “Our King is currently engrossed, rescuing your leader, Hope Nobolo.”

“My deepest regrets, my Wakandan friends, but we must be certain that King Nobolo is dead.”

“Can’t it wait a few more minutes?! Come on!” Jeffrey cried out.

“I am afraid not. In that time, Nobolo could summon more reinforcements, and, truthfully, our men are in no condition to continue in combat. It is what Hope would want. I suggest you move your craft. We won’t move ours.”

Once again, the channel died, and the NightStar’s occupants shot each other troubled looks.

“Chicken it is,” M’swa muttered as the NightStar and the jet continued to race toward each other.

“Think they’ll swerve first?” Jeffrey asked, staring down the screaming jet ahead.

“Can’t say,” Ivory Ghost answered. “I’ve spent months with the rebels, and these are angry men. But I had no idea they’d go so far as to kill Hope in the process of killin’ Nobolo.”

“We will soon find the answer to your question, Jeffrey--the jet is one-hundred meters away, and closing,” M’swa said, reading the control panel.

In the otherwise silent proceeding moments, M’swa’s reports continued.

Seventy meters.

Sixty meters.

Fifty meters.

Forty meters.

And still the jet came.

“Give up, you stubborn fool!” M’swa cursed.

Suddenly, with a burst of smoke, the missile under the right wing of the jet detached, and streaked toward the NightStar.

“SWERVE!!!” Jeffrey cried.

M’swa furiously twisted the joystick, and the NightStar angled upward and just over the speeding missile.

The NightStar then turned to face the Tower, and M’swa, Jeffrey, and the Ivory Ghost saw with widened eyes the missile impact with the Tower. And they gasped, because there was nothing else they COULD do.

“Let’s just hope we bought the kid enough time to get out,” Ivory Ghost said.

***

The Panther’s forearm struck Man-Ape with all the force of a man whose anger had overcome him. Hope Nobolo was a good woman, undeserving of death. Especiallly death ordered by a....creature...as vile as M’baku. The Panther intended to avenge that death.

Man-Ape found an opening in the Panther’s fury, and swept him into the air with his powerful arm. In the air, the Panther regained his form, and, with feet agile as his namesake’s, pushed himself from the wall, to the other wall, then to Man-Ape’s head, delivering a striking boot that leveled the behemoth. He then landed, spun, and kicked Man-Ape again, forcing him to double over. Another jumping thrust, and the Man-Ape winced as his head shot back.

The smoke in the stairwell continued to thicken, and Black Panther was unable to see five feet ahead of him, despite his heightened vision. Knowing oxygen was a scarce commodity at the moment, he held his breath. If only he could locate the ailing Man-Ape.

THWAK!!!

The fist in his back. M’baku had used the smoke to his advantage, and had crept behind the Panther, unnoticed.

“You should have never left Wakanda! Your time has come and gone, T’Challa!” Man-Ape bellowed with another fist. “My day is NOW!”

KRAKA-SHOOM!!!

Before Man-Ape could deliver the deathblow, the stairwell--and the rest of the Tower--shook violently, and the concrete foundation began to pound the ground around the two combatants.

The Panther turned and struck Man-Ape with a fist to the chest, to no avail. Another fist. Nothing. He looked into M’baku’s eyes, and saw only a red rage. Despite the fire, and despite the falling debris, M’baku was determined now, more than ever, to take T’Challa’s empty throne.

Man-Ape’s arm wound back, and Black Panther saw his fate in the goliath’s fist. And, he lamented, he could have stopped all of this.

He could have stayed in Wakanda.

But now...

PLONK!!!

The Black Panther didn’t see the concrete block that took Man-Ape out--it had come too fast. No, he only saw a field of smoke where M’baku had been. That, and a lot of blood.

“Whoa.”

No time to find Man-Ape in all the smoke. Not with the concrete raining down on him, and his oxygen supply running low. And so, the Panther left M’baku to his fate, and fled down the erupting stairway, down the equally chaotic eight flights of steps, and out of the fiery tower, just as it collapsed, spewing a cloud of debris throughout the vicinity.

Once safe from the wreckage, he took in a chestful of air, and noticed that the fighting among the rebels and the troops had ceased, and the rebels were celebrating amidst burning tanks, badly beaten soldiers, and, at last, the Tower of Truth’s violent death . And, in the distance, the NightStar was landing in a bed of dirt. As M’swa, Jeffrey, and the Ivory Ghost stepped off of the quinjet’s platform, T’Challa hobbled toward them.

“Sire, you escaped!” M’swa exclaimed.

“Barely. M’baku gave me his all, until the Tower came down. What happened?”

“The rebels launched a missile at the Tower, as their last act of vengeance on King Nobolo,” Jeffrey replied.

“By the Panther Spirit!” T’Challa said, exasperated by his ordeal. “Did they not know that Hope was still in there?”

“They’re a bloodthirsty people now, kid,” the Ivory Ghost said solemnly. “They need someone to stick around and make them civilized again.”

“I am afraid it cannot be I,” T’Challa said, his voice deep with reverie. “Wakanda is my land. I never should have strayed from her.”

Panther Tales

A letter from one of MV1’s finest!

Hey, fool, just thought I'd drop you a note and let you know what a good job you did with this issue (BP #16). Seeing T'Challa and Ozymandias put together an uneasy alliance was kind of neat, plus the scene with Carter was well done also. Any hopes of seeing Killmonger in your run? I'll refrain from the BP/Ka-Zar team-up ideas, okay? =) Can't wait for next issue's Man-Ape rematch! Very good job, Sam!

Jason Snyder

Next issue: Check out the Black Panther’s involvement in the Kree/Shi’ar War, then come back for BLACK PANTHER #18, as the gang journeys to Manhattan!

WHAT ELSE IS GOIN' DOWN IN MARCH, YEAR 4?

CHECK IT OUT!!!

DOCTOR STRANGE #100 (by "Awesome" Alex Maggi)--Doctor Strange in the Dark Dimension!!!

INHUMANS: STATE OF THE NATION #1 (by Mark "Bisquit" Bousquet)--The Inhumans' all-new, mind-blowing saga!!!

TRIATHLON #6 (by Sam "I'd Never Plug My Own Work Unless There Was A Good Reason" Everett)--Triathlon vs. the Triune Understanding!!!