(Hela's POV)
"Oh darling, if I were you, I wouldn't want to do it."
When I said that, I swear I felt the girl's soul almost leave her body. Like it did a full 180, said 'nope,' and tried to climb into the astral plane. I'd say it was hilarious if I wasn't the one causing it.
Anyway, joke aside, I actually managed to reach Earth. Finally.
After god-knows how many light-years of distance I floated and the many dimensional drifts, here I am, standing—or rather floating on this tiny blue planet that's supposed to be the center of all the trouble in the universe.
Earth. It smells different. Feels different. Like something's always brewing.
Wars, secrets, gods hiding in shadows, superheroes with drama issues, and of course, humans doing stupid shit every five minutes. Gotta love it.
Right now, I'm in New York. City of noise, filth, and weird smells, but also kinda cool in a chaotic sort of way.
I grabbed a newspaper off a bench—don't ask how, I have my ways—and saw the date. 1994. Huh. Honestly, I expected something more… ancient.
Not as advanced as it looked. I was picturing horses and swords still, but apparently, they've moved on to cable TV, fast food, and something called 'Friends.' Whatever that is.
From the original Hela's memories, the last time she set foot on Midgard was, what, 2500 years ago?
She came with Daddy Dearest Odin and a bunch of Asgardian muscleheads to conquer the place. Back then, she thought Midgard would be a quick job.
Easy invasion, burn some temples, slaughter a few tribal kings, get worshipped. Standard Asgardian afternoon.
But nooo. Odin pulled a fast one.
Instead of doing what they'd always done—slash and conquer—he went all political. Signed a treaty or something, called it a 'submission of Earth,' and claimed it as his territory without lifting a sword.
Hela was not happy about that. She wanted blood, fire, screams. You know, the usual war goddess stuff.
And honestly, after digging through her memories, I kinda get it now. Not the whole 'murder everyone' part, but the confusion.
I mean, Odin always taught her war was the way. Then suddenly he does a 180 and acts like a diplomat? Talk about sending mixed signals.
But then again, Earth back then wasn't your typical dirtball planet. It was stacked. The Eternals had just arrived. Egyptian gods were still showing off with pyramids and curses.
Atlantis wasn't underwater yet and was still flashing its tech around like it owned the place. Mutants were already popping up, some real freaks, like Apocalypse, who made Thanos look like a toddler with a glow stick.
And don't even get me started on the supernatural side. You could take a walk in the forest and casually run into Chthon or Mephisto or some old pantheon dude like Zeus or freaking Amaterasu just chilling in a hot spring somewhere.
So yeah. Odin wasn't stupid. He knew going full war mode on Earth was asking for a divine slap across the face. He probably saw the mess and thought, 'Y'know what? Let's not.'
Hela, of course, didn't see it that way. All she saw was betrayal. All those years of training, of war, of father-daughter genocide bonding… tossed aside for some ink on a scroll.
So yeah, she had issues. Big ones. But can you blame her? Odin raised her like a weapon, then tried to toss her aside the second she followed orders too well.
Anyway, back to the present—or 1994 to be exact. I've been drifting around Earth for about minutes now.
I've mostly been observing. TV, radio, newspapers, the occasional random psychic who accidentally tuned into my frequency and thought I was his dead mother, really New York. It's been fun.
So, how did I meet Ms. Viper? Good question. I was chilling, happy to be on Earth again, floating over some buildings when I saw something on TV that caught my eye.
World Cup. Quarterfinals. Netherlands vs Brazil. California.
Oh hell yes.
Do you know how long it's been since I saw a good game? From Hela's memories, Asgard doesn't do football. They do "bash-your-head-in-ball." Very different vibe. So obviously, I had to go.
I mean, I'm literally a few seconds away at most thanks to my lovely astral body. I figured I'd grab the best seat in the stadium. Sidelines or floating above the crowd, mine to choose.
But just as I was preparing to teleport over, I felt something. A disturbance. Like someone a few kilometers away was trying to poke a hole into another dimension. Sloppy work, too. Like a toddler trying to break into a liquor cabinet.
So naturally, I got curious. I followed the source, and surprise surprise, it's Viper. Madame freaking Hydra herself. Trying to summon an eldritch god.
With a circle drawn in what I hope is pig's blood and a dagger that looks like it came from a discount demon-hunting kit.
She was mid-ritual, knife raised, blood about to spill, mumbling some half-baked incantation that sounded like she Googled it off the back of a cereal box.
And that's when I dropped in. Quite literally.
She froze when I spoke. Like a deer caught in a magical semi-truck. Her eyes snapped to mine, dagger pausing mid-air. The glow around her circle was shaky. Off-brand demonic energy at best. Definitely not the premium stuff.
Then she did the most adorable and American thing. Pulled a gun.
Like I hadn't seen that before, I couldn't help but shudder from the inside thinking about my death.
"Who the hell are you?" she spat, gun aimed dead center. Her voice had that perfect mix of anger, confusion, and mild constipation.
I almost laughed. "Oh little girl, if I were you, I wouldn't dare point that thing at a god. Weren't you just trying to summon one?"
And only then did she actually see me. Like really saw me. Floating. Glowing slightly. Radiating pure divine power and sass.
To her credit, she didn't drop the gun. Hydra agents, man. Gotta respect the training. But her aura? Shaking. She was barely keeping her soul from jumping ship.
"You can call me Hela," I added, floating a bit closer just to mess with her head. "Though I'm sure you've heard of me. Or maybe not. You mortals forget fast."
I paused, watching her eyes dart around the room like she was trying to figure out how the hell I even got in here. The ritual.
Before signing the deal with an eldritch god, she'd opened her perception during the ceremony, allowing her to see and speak with high-level gods, let alone a mere Astra Body.
Poor girl probably expected a writhing tentacle beast or a flaming eyeball or some cliché demon with horns. Not me. A snarky, floating goddess in black.
"What?" I teased. "You're ready to sell your soul but can't handle a face-to-face with a real deity? Cute."
She scowled. "I wasn't expecting—"
"Exactly," I cut in. "You never are. That's why you people always end up dead, insane, or both."
She lowered the gun, just a little, though I don't completely understand the reason she did so. "Why are you here?"
"Oh, I was on my way to watch the World Cup," I said casually, inspecting her ritual circle like it was a kindergarten drawing. "But then I felt this little tantrum of yours and got curious. Honestly, I expected more from Hydra."
Viper bristled at that. "This is classified. You shouldn't even know—"
"Sweetheart," I interrupted, smiling just a bit, "I know what you had for breakfast. I'm a goddess, one of the strongest goddesses you'll never be able to see."