Since I still have a little Vodka left in me; here is the first issue of the next arc for Mr. M. and the whole BP Posse:

Arc #2 (issues #7-#12), issue #7:

T'Challa sits on his throne looking down at the "Eye of Bast", and the Infinity Stones besides it. He says nothing. He dwells on the prospects of turning all the world into "good citizens", free of all evil intent. He tilts his head back and lets out a long breath.
He picks up all the items of power and carries them in a leather sack to the Vibranium mines. Once the workers for the day are gone, he tosses them separately into the molten pool of liquid metal at the site where they work liquid Vibranium into shapes and objects. "No man should weld such power" he thinks to himself. As the objects cool and are solidified by the molten metal he retrieves all of them from the molten pool and makes a plan to bury them where they can never be found again. Unless.. unless the unthinkable happens.

Scene change to the small trickling fountain in the center of the Wakandan plant life atrium. Nakia sits and stirs the small pool of cool water slowly with her finger tips and thinks, not only of all the things she is responsible for regarding the rest of Africa, but also to her king. The man she loves. "How do I love him? How do I give up my life to be with him? How do I forego everything that is important to me"? A tear rolls from her eyes and she gazes into the pool looking at a distorted image of herself just to hide the tears.

Shuri steps out of the hots springs that cascade over her lithe ebony body. How she loves the feel of the rushing, small water falls as it cleanses her body, mind, and soul. She is near the village of the once powerful tribe led by M'Baku. She cares not a wisp if any of the remaining tribe members are spying on her, naked; as she washes the blood and grim off her sleek, yet nubile body. The poachers who crossed the boarder did not stand a chance, she thinks to herself. Maybe killing them would not be approved, or ordered by her brother. "I am not my brother" she thinks and her thoughts rush along like the clear liquid that gently caresses her form.

Namor sits on his throne of golden oysters. "Every breath you take is a mercy from me"?! He slams his fist on the arm of the throne, startling all of those around him this evening. "How I hate that smug, arrogant, jungle born wanna be monarch". His closest counselor seeks to approach him, but the look on the Prince's face makes him think otherwise. As the dim sunlight that reaches far away Atlantis fades away, Namor thinks to himself that these memories have to end. Eventually, he dozes off to a restless slumber, a smile on his royal face. Kill this would be king, he thinks. The only true king on this planet made up of the life giving water that sustains him, is himself. The one true ruler of Atlantis.

The dead body smells. The maggots have not yet roosted in the flesh to feed off the dead, but the smell is still more that any one person could bare. It doesn't bother her. Malice sits on the floor of the old, rundown studio apartment, and looks at the dismembered body of her latest victim without remorse. His entrails slide between her sleek hands and she contemplates what to do next. "He kissed me.. He awoke my soul and my longing". No tears are shed and she sits in silent gloom; but an aura of hatred awakens anew. "He should of loved ME! Not that wind witch; not that river tribe slut; But ME"!!! She stands slowly with a new reserve. She will travel back from this land of colonizers and seek out the land of her birth. "He will be with me; or he will be with no one". She slowly walks out the door.

T'Challa lays on the massive mattress made of the soft grasses of the plains of Wakanda. He stares up through the "Moon roof" in his royal bedchambers. "Life is now perfect", he thinks. He dozes off knowing that nothing, from this point on, can go wrong in his kingdom.

End of Issue #7