By Barry Reese

May Year 3

In her dreams, she hunted.

M'swa ran through the rain drenched jungle, her breath floating in clouds in front of her. Her legs ached but her mind felt free. The thrill of the Hunt was upon her. She wore the mantle of the panther -- though her garb was different from those who had come before. Thigh-high boots, a black bodysuit, and a half-mask that hid the upper part of her face. It was her own design, though she believed that it was the emodiment of her own panther-spirit.

She came to a clearing and crouched atop a rocky outcropping. Down below was a city of sorts, though it was of alien design. She sniffed the air -- her quarry was below. She lept into the air, her body arcing gracefully. She landed in a run, entering the front gates of the city. The gates were made of a strange metal that seemed to glint and gleam with life. Intricate carvings lined the metal, telling tales of alien wonder. But M'swa ignored them. She saw only the Hunt.

Before her stood her prey. He wore his own version of the panther-spirit and she knew from his bearing that he was T'challa -- handsome, brilliant T'challa. For a moment, she felt weakness, wanted to run into his arms and embrace him. How many warm nights had she lain awake, thinking about her King?

But the panther-spirit would not be denied. She raised her fist and let loose an animal growl. T'challa adopted a fighting stance and the two began grappling. The fight was furious and vicious. But in the end, M'swa was the one who pulled herself free. T'challa lay lifeless on the ground and M'swa looked upwards, into the night sky. "I...am...the...PANTHER!"

M'swa sat up in bed. Her thin nightgown was drenched with sweat and her head pounded. She placed her hand on her forehead. "Oh...what is happening to me? Am I going mad?" Her voice echoed in her empty room, for there was no one to answer her.

Meanwhile...in San Diego, USA:

The short-tempered mutant known as Quicksilver lowered his head and gave a last burst of speed. He plucked up the innocent schoolchild a second before a blast of radioactive fire incinerated the block. Pietro dropped the girl off in the arms of a policeman and picked up his Avengers comlink.

"It is hopeless, Hawkeye. The behomoth is unstoppable. We need Thor or Iron Man. We four cannot contend with this beast."

Across the city, Hawkeye the Archer frowned. He rode his skycycle as close to the monster known as Godzilla as possible. Down below, on the shattered streets of San Diego, were Tigra and Living Lightning, both of whom were trying to help evacuate the civilians. Hawkeye cursed -- if this had happened any other time...maybe when the West Coast team was situated better. But not now. "Can that kind of talk, 'silver. We're all these people have right now. We've gotta drive this beastie out to sea!"

The monster known as Godzilla could care less about the frightened people who ran beneath his feet. The strange buzzing that had awakened him {see BP # 5} had led him here, to this noisy city with its stinging gnats. He wanted to crush this noise and return to his slumber...

Far away, thanks to the miracle of modern technology, a group of shadowy businessmen watched via satellite. One of them, seated in the largest chair, leaned forward.

"Well, gentlemen? What do you think of our newest acquisition?"

A rotund figure answered, "He is most impressive. But he does not make up for the failure of Machinesmith {see BP # 5-6}."

"I think he does. I say we send him back out to sea until he is needed again. How long until Operation Africa is ready to go?"

A standing figure, tall and gaunt, smiled. "Within the week, sir."

"Good. Do it then -- send Godzilla back to his warm undersea cave. We need him well rested for the Consortium's next request of him!"

Greer Nelson, the feline heroine known as Tigra, gaped in awe as the massive creature abruptly stopped his attack, slowly moving towards the Pacific. "Hawk, are you seeing this?!"

"I see it, Tigra. I don't understand it, but I see it. Continue with the cleanup. I'll put all the Avengers on the alert in case he decides to come back..."

"You got it, Hawk." Tigra felt her fur raise at the thought of facing that beast up close again...she hoped that day would never come.

WAKANDA...

THE NEXT MORNING

T'challa smiled as he felt the sweat run down his body. He circled M'swa, as the two worked out in his gym. She was in good shape, with strong legs that he knew were capable of delivering excrusiatingly painful kicks. "Are you ready to surrender, M'swa?"

She smiled back and T'challa found her smile captivating. "No, my liege. In fact, I think the time has come for YOU to consider surrender!" She feinted left and then kicked out with a roundhouse. T'challa instinctively ducked back, barely evading the blow. He brought a hand up to strike her still- raised leg. The impact sent her sprawling off-balance. She landed with a thud but was back up again in a blur.

T'challa heard the pinging of his beeper and held up a hand. "Ah...it appears I have been given a reprieve. Excellent, as usual, M'swa."

M'swa wiped sweat from her forehead and nodded her thanks. "Sire...at some point, I would like to discuss my dreams with you...they are rather disturbing of late."

T'challa pursed his lips. "Dreams, M'swa? Tell me of them after I find out who has interrupted us..." He picked up his communicator and flipped the switch. "T'challa here."

"Sire, Ambassador N'baru has arrived at the airport. He is asking that you meet him onboard his plane."

"N'baru...? What is our American ambassador doing back so unexpectedly?" T'challa glanced at M'swa, who shrugged. "Very well. Tell him I shall be there shortly but that in the future he should remember who is King -- I won't be summoned at the whims of my subjects."

"Yes, my liege."

T'challa shut off the communicator and nodded to M'swa. "Would you fancy a trip with me?"

"Anytime, my lord. Anytime."

T'challa sat beside M'swa in the back of the royal limousine. She was dressed in a nice business dress and T'challa noted that her beauty was unaffected by anything she wore -- in workout sweats or a dinner gown, she was lovely.

"Tell me about these dreams, M'swa."

She looked away and sighed. "I have dreams about...Hunting."

"Hunting?"

"Yes, I'm not quite human in my dreams -- I'm more and less. I'm an animal with wild passions but the logic of a human. I'm...a panther."

T'challa's blood froze in his veins. "A panther...Do you dream of killing me?"

M'swa turned to stare with open eyes. "Yes! My lord, how do you...?"

T'challa raised a hand. They had arrived. "Hush. We will speak of this at length later."

M'swa bit her lip. "Yes, my lord."

T'challa walked up the lowered ramp to the plane, his senses on alert. M'swa followed behind but she was too preoccupied to notice that something was amiss. Why was N'baru not waiting to greet him? Why the sudden visit? T'challa tenses himself as he stepped inside. He sensed the attack before he heard it -- the high-pitched whine as sonics increased to a painful level. He hurled himself into a back-flip, snagging M'swa on his way down. He pulled her to him as a sonic blast destroyed the ramp.

"Klaw..." M'swa blinked but she was recovering fast. She had already pulled away and was standing ready. T'challa was impressed. Klaw stepped into view, N'baru held in his grasp. Klaw's sonic gun was pressed to N'baru's temple. "Hello, old friend. Is the kingship treating you well, old pal?"

T'challa stood tall. "Klaw, step away from him. Your vendetta is against me, not my subjects."

"Well, aren't you the brave little warrior. Listen up, Chief -- you're going to give me exactly what I want or this guy's brains are going to be pudding...Here's what I want first --"

NEXT ISSUE: The standoff continues! Klaw vs. the Black Panther! M'swa continues to unravel the mysteries of her dreams...and more on the Consortium.