Unlike the chaos unfolding on Earth, the people who found themselves in Hel had no clue what was going on. And honestly? They were living their best afterlife, vibing hard and looking forward to the future.
Thanks to the number one waiter in the universe—seriously, blink and your food's already in your hand—nobody had to wait.
But naturally, all eyes were glued to one person: a woman with the appetite of a literal black hole. Plate after plate, like a machine. She'd already devoured thousands and didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.
If it weren't for keeping up appearances, Gali probably would've gone full beast mode and just inhaled the buffet in one massive sweep. But hey, a girl's still gotta maintain some dignity.
Off to the side, a man in his forties leaned back with a long, content sigh. "I've never felt this relaxed in my entire life."
He was surrounded by a bunch of younger guys in their early twenties, all lowkey starstruck.
Not because he had any powers or crazy weapons, but because he used to be that guy—a movie star. The kind who made millions, had his face plastered everywhere, and lived the dream every dude his age wanted.
They never expected him to just... leave all that behind to be here.
Still, he didn't seem fazed by the attention. Instead, he spoke like someone who'd waited a long time to get this off his chest.
"My dad died in the Vietnam War when I was just a kid," he began, voice steady. "My mom had to raise me alone at a time when being a widow meant you were basically invisible—or worse."
"And she wasn't even American. Imagine how hard it was. She took every awful job nobody else wanted. Just to keep me fed. Just to keep me alive."
He paused, his eyes distant.
"One day I saw an open casting call in the paper. I thought—why not try? Maybe it was my calm personality, or maybe it was everything I'd been through that made me good at connecting with people's emotions… either way, I landed the role."
His lips curled into a bittersweet smile.
"For a moment, it felt like things were finally turning around. I was making money. I could finally give my mom the peace she deserved. But... just when she could finally rest, her body gave out."
"She never said anything. She held on until she knew I was okay. Then she let go."
"After my mom passed… I thought I'd finally have peace, y'know? I had money. Recognition. I was on posters, magazine covers, even action figures. But instead of feeling free, I felt empty."
He let out a breath that sounded like it had been stuck in his chest for decades.
"No one prepares you for the silence after a funeral. The kind that crawls into your bed with you. That makes even a stadium full of screaming fans feel… fake. Like you're just some wax figure moving through the motions."
The young men around him were quiet now, leaning in without realizing it.
"I wanted to quit acting. I just wanted to grieve. I wanted time to figure out who I was without a script, without cameras, without someone yelling 'cut' every time I tried to feel something real."
He looked up at them, voice dropping to a raw whisper.
"But they didn't let me. My agency said I had contracts. The sponsors said they had investments. And the studio—" he laughed bitterly, "—they threatened to ruin me. Said if I walked away, they'd open lawsuits that would bury me so deep in debt I wouldn't even afford a studio apartment."
There was a pause. Even Gali, the bottomless eater, had slowed down to listen a little.
"They had footage of me at parties I never agreed to attend, quotes they'd edited from interviews to sound like I said the worst things. I was one headline away from being in prison."
He shook his head helplessly.
"You know what's crazy? I wasn't even angry at first. I was scared. I actually considered going back—pretending, smiling, playing the game just so they wouldn't throw me in prison for 'breach of contract' or some made-up tax issue."
Then his expression softened. Tired. Honest.
"But I didn't. I packed up, disappeared. They sent people after me. Real ones. Not lawyers. Not gossip bloggers. People who don't blink when they break bones."
He held up his hand—his pinky was slightly crooked, like it had been snapped and never healed right.
"I thought I'd have to spend the rest of my life hiding. That I'd die somewhere no one would remember my name."
He looked around Hel—at the artificial sun that seemed less flashy than earlier.
"But here… I don't have to worry about sleeping and waking up in prison, media 'digging' a new scandal, don't have to worry about not having enough money to live. That's the greatest luxury I've ever known, and I hope the future can be similar."
.....
To be honest, he wasn't telling his story to get attention, or sympathy, or even validation. He just wanted to drop a big warning like, "Hey, heads up, we finally have the perfect chance. Don't screw this up."
Because from what he sees? It's like someone gave them a half-built spaceship and said, "Alright, go explore the stars!" But instead of patching up the cracks, most people are just arguing over the color of the seats.
See, the laws? The systems? The mindset? None of it really matters unless someone crosses a red line. That's basically what Hela said.
As long as no one stomps on that invisible line in the sand, she couldn't care less what people do. Want to wear a cape to work? Sure. Want to tattoo your cat? Go ahead. Just don't cross her red line.
And don't even start with stocks, finance, real estate, media—all that jazz. It's all nonsense now.
They've got something no other civilization ever had: the chance to actually build a perfect society. Not just dream about it in books or speeches—like, legit implement their ideals.
Think about it. They have a literal goddess watching their backs, ready to smack down any alien, threat, or nonsense that comes from outside.
They've got superhumans—not mutants. Not those "maybe I can lift a car if I scream loud enough" types. Real deal.
One woman snapped her fingers and plates just materialized out of nowhere. And the guy who handed out thousands of them in the blink of an eye? That was something that just seems to go against common sense.
And then there's Hela's big promise: no discrimination. Not in her kingdom. Sounds like a fairy tale, right? But then again, this is coming from a goddess who literally rules a whole damn planet. If she says it, it's not just wishful thinking. It's law.
People like Natasha—the ones with actual political brains—understood instantly what he meant. It's true that they may have different grudges that make it impossible to be fair in the short term. But aside from a few broken-circuit types, who doesn't want a world without hunger, without fear, without discrimination or disease?
That's what every religion since forever has tried to promise, in one way or another.
Wanda, meanwhile, was watching everyone like a hawk. Hela had given her a big role—a massive one, really. She was the bridge. The middle ground. The spokesperson of a goddess. Or in plain English: Hela's full-powered messenger to the people of Hel.
But right now, she's a bit stressed.
Her main headache? How to do it.
She's thinking of setting up a kind of council or board—something like the United Nations but, you know, actually functional.
Representatives from different groups: humans, mutants, powered folks, maybe even aliens or reformed villains if they want to get fancy.
Because sure, Hela gave them freedom. But freedom means responsibility. And now the big questions are rolling in.
How much land does everyone get in the new city? What's the architectural style gonna be—sci-fi chrome or comfy garden vibes? Who's contributing what? What happens when disagreements pop up?
Someone's gotta coordinate all this before people start arguing over who gets the fancy mountain view or who gets stuck next to the sewage system. That someone… is Wanda. And hoo boy, the pressure is real.
End Of The Chapter
Author: pfiou, I finally managed to squeeze out today's chapter, I wonder where should I start tomorrow, I feel like I did the POV of everyone that matter.
Ms. Viper: So love would disappear?