"Many years ago, T'Chaka, the king, killed my father—his own brother—and left a claw wound across his chest... From then on, I became an orphan and lived on the streets. At fourteen, I joined a gang. By chance, the CIA noticed me and recruited me as an unofficial agent. Later, I studied at Annapolis University, graduated at nineteen, then earned a graduate degree from MIT before joining the Navy SEALs. My commander sent me to the overseas battlefield in Afghanistan..."
"There, I kept killing. Taking lives became as easy and natural to me as breathing. People began calling me 'Killmonger,' meaning 'seller of slaughter.' While working for the CIA, I searched for Wakanda. I killed countless people, showing no mercy even to the elderly, the weak, women, or children, becoming a true killing machine... When Mr. Sipes found me, I was training with the Ghost Force under the United States Joint Special Operations Command..."
"He promised me a chance at a fair challenge—to kill the Black Panther before all of Wakanda and complete my revenge!"
The Black youth named Killmonger spoke with grief and indignation, his voice brimming with thunderous rage. That lofty figure was willing to generously help him achieve the revenge he had dreamed of day and night for years.
With his strength alone, let alone completing his revenge, even setting foot on Wakandan soil would be difficult.
Killmonger knew there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. Such help surely would not come without a price.
Yet he had neither reason nor standing to refuse. Even if he became someone else's pawn, as long as he could avenge his father and wash away the pain and hardship he had endured all these years with blood, even becoming a tool would be worth it.