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In the heart of Wakanda, nestled amidst the lush jungle and towering mountains, the Jabari Tribe stormed out of their secluded realm. The air was thick with tension as M'Baku, the formidable leader of the Jabari, stood before T'Challa, the Black Panther and King of Wakanda. The Jabari Tribe had always been known for their isolationist stance, shunning the use of vibranium and living in the sacred mountains, where they worshiped the gorilla god Hanuman.
M'Baku's powerful voice resonated through the grand chamber of the royal palace as he chastised T'Challa. "You have not been King for even a full year, and yet you have allowed the greatest secret of Wakanda to be revealed to the world. Our hidden kingdom is no longer hidden, thanks to your actions."
T'Challa, wearing his Black Panther suit, stood tall, his expression resolute. He knew that the discovery of Wakanda was a sensitive issue, especially for the Jabari. He attempted to defend himself, explaining, "M'Baku, it was not my intention to reveal Wakanda's secrets. The circumstances forced our hand. We had to respond to the global situation..."Before T'Challa could elaborate further, the grand doors of the chamber swung open with a resounding thud. A Dora Milaje guard, her spear held at the ready, rushed inside. She hurried to T'Challa's side, her voice filled with urgency. "Your Majesty, there's an approaching ship. It bears the markings of Talokan."
As she spoke, a holographic projection materialized beside them, displaying the advanced flagship of Talokan, rising gracefully from the sea at the nearest Wakandan coast and heading directly toward the heart of the kingdom. The vessel's sleek, metal design hinted at its advanced Vibranium technology.
Millennia ago, just like Wakanda, a meteor from outer space containing vibranium crashed into the Atlantic Ocean near the Yucatán. While the vibranium sank to the sea floor, it also affected some of the underwater plant life closer to the surface.
In 1571, a Yucatán-Mayan tribe found themselves dying due to smallpox introduced by Spanish colonizers. Praying to a Mayan deity, one of the tribesmen was guided towards a vibranium enriched plant, which the tribe ingested. Waking up with blue skin and gills, they went into the sea to breathe, where their skin colors were restored.
With these newfound attributes, they migrated to the Puerto Rico Trench, approximately 12,000 feet deep, leaving their old lives behind to forge anew, underwater.
Inspired by his mother's stories passed on from his Aztec father, Ch'ah Toh Almehen (Namor) took the name of the Aztec underworld paradise Tlālōcān and translated it from Nahuatl into their tongue of Yucatec Mayan as Talokan, establishing this as the name of their new underwater nation. The people called themselves Talokanil and established Talokan on the sea floor where the raw vibranium deposits remained.
Shortly after, a small group returned to the surface, only to see a plantation run by a slave master. Setting fire to the property and killing the colonizers, Talokan harbored a resentment towards surface dwellers and elected to keep their existence hidden from humanity.
Though they couldn't stay hidden from Wakanda, nor could Wakanda stay hidden from Talokan. After all, both sides possess similar technology, crafted from the same rare and highly sought after material, Vibranium.
It was inevitable that they'd meet, and when they did, both sides were relatively amicable. Though that was all. Wakanda and Talokan have always been isolated nations, who kept to themselves. The two nations were similar to acquaintances up until now, which is why their sudden appearance in the surface was odd and slightly troubling.
T'Challa's brow furrowed in puzzlement. The Talokan, led by Namor, were even more reclusive than Wakanda, seldom venturing beyond the depths of the ocean. Their sudden approach was a matter of great intrigue and concern. He muttered to himself, "Why would the Talokan seek an audience with us? This is highly unusual."
M'Baku, who had momentarily set aside his grievances, regarded the holographic image with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "The fish men have never shown interest in our affairs before..."
T'Challa nodded in agreement. "We must prepare for their arrival and ensure a diplomatic reception."
As the hologram continued to display the approaching Talokan flagship, T'Challa turned to the Dora Milaje guard. "Alert the council and assemble a diplomatic envoy. We will receive the Talokan delegation."
The guard saluted and swiftly departed to carry out her orders, leaving the king, M'Baku, and the hologram behind. The tension in the room remained palpable as they pondered the implications of the Talokan's unexpected visit.
…
The grand doors of the Wakandan palace rumbled open, revealing the imposing figure of Namor, stepping onto the lush marbled floors of the royal hall. Behind him, a formidable delegation of blue-skinned guards, their spears gleaming with an otherworldly sheen, maintained a disciplined formation. T'Challa, resplendent in his Black Panther suit, M'Baku, and the rest of the council members awaited their guests, tension palpable in the air.
T'Challa stepped forward, extending a hand in greeting. "Namor, King of Talokan, welcome to Wakanda. We are honored by your presence."
Namor's piercing green eyes met T'Challa's gaze as he clasped the Wakandan king's hand firmly. "T'Challa, the latest Black Panther, it has been a long time since our nations have met on the surface..."
With the formalities observed, T'Challa invited Namor and his entourage inside the palace. They proceeded through the resplendent corridors until they reached the throne room, where the ornate Wakandan throne awaited. T'Challa took a seat in his throne and gestured for Namor to sit, but he remained standing, his posture unwavering.
T'Challa didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Namor, why have you ventured to the surface world? This is a rare occurrence for Talokan."
Namor's gaze swept over the council members before settling back on T'Challa. "Surface dwellers have always been a contentious matter for us. I trust them as much as I trust the sharks that circle our kingdom. Which is why I was deeply surprised to hear of Wakanda's recent actions."
T'Challa's brow furrowed in concern. "Actions? What are you referring to?"
Namor's tone was grave. "The revelation of Wakanda to the world and your apparent attempt to forge alliances with the surface nations. This is not the Wakanda I remember."
T'Challa sighed, his shoulders heavy with the weight of responsibility. "Namor, it was not by our choice that our secrecy was breached. The technology of the outside world has been advancing rapidly, and we were discovered by an advanced satellite. We had no control over the situation. And as far as alliances go, we are in talks with nations that have made strides toward being just and righteous."
Namor's eyes narrowed, his voice filled with bitterness. "The outside world. It is not what it used to be in my time. Surface nations being just and righteous… How foolish are you?"
T'Challa nodded, trying to explain. "Yes, Namor, they have. Some countries may still not deserve our friendship, but many of them have taken steps towards becoming responsible global citizens."
Namor scoffed, a bitter smile on his lips. "Responsible global citizens? How do you interpret the word responsible, T'Challa? Is it responsible to dump their trash into our ocean? Is it responsible to relentlessly burn coal, trash, and fuels, driving the world to the brink of environmental catastrophe? Is it responsible to destroy the forests and jungles of the world, along with the extinction of thousands of animals, including our sea creatures?"
T'Challa was taken aback by Namor's vehement accusations. He frowned, searching for words to counter the Sub-Mariner's passionate arguments. "Namor, I understand your concerns, but it's not black and white. We must tread carefully in these matters."
Namor leaned in closer, his voice low and intense. "T'Challa, I offer Wakanda a choice. You can either stand by my side, forcefully correcting the surface world's many wrong doings, or you can align yourselves with the polluters, slavers, rapists, and killers of the world, the surface dwellers."
T'Challa hesitated, his mind grappling with the gravity of Namor's ultimatum. The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the distant echoes of Wakanda's bustling capital outside.
Namor's expression grew somber as he backed away from T'Challa. "You have until the end of the week to make your choice, T'Challa. Choose wisely."
With those words, Namor turned on his heel and, without another glance, strode out of the throne room, his contingent of blue-skinned guards following in his wake. They returned to their advanced flagship, which lifted gracefully into the sky and departed, leaving the heart of Wakanda in a state of profound contemplation.
T'Challa watched the Talokan vessel vanish into the horizon, the weight of the world pressing down upon his shoulders. He had a choice to make and it seemed like both options would lead to nothing but war.
As the Talokan flagship disappeared into the horizon, leaving behind a pensive Wakanda, a ripple in reality formed in the throne room. A swirling portal materialized, and through it emerged Peter, accompanied by his daughter, Lily. Both wore the Spider suits, hiding their identities from the world.
Lily, a bright and spirited young girl with a contagious enthusiasm, rushed through the portal with boundless energy. "Dad, come on! I can't wait to see Shuri! We're going to make a lightsaber today!"
Peter followed more cautiously, his Spider-Sense tingling with unease. As he stepped into the palace, he glanced around, taking in the regal surroundings and the tension in the air.
Lily, oblivious to the atmosphere, rushed ahead, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Shuri, where are you? I brought my blueprints!"
As Lily rushed out of the Throne room in search of her newest friend, the atmosphere grew even more awkward. All eyes turned to him, and a heavy silence descended. Peter cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "Uh, yo. What's going on?"
T'Challa, his expression unreadable, nodded in acknowledgment. "It seems you have arrived at a rather... sensitive time, my friend."
A/N: 1670 words :)
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