Shattered

Ow. 

Hela wished her first thought hadn’t been quite so weak. She’d fallen from much greater heights before, in much worse places, this shouldn’t hurt in the slightest- or at least, she shouldn’t be complaining about it, what would Odin think? (Odin is dead, said the small voice in the back of her head that was becoming far too brave for her liking. Shut up, she told it.)

All of this was pushed out of her mind almost immediately when, upon looking up, she discovered a large piece of trash falling towards her. 

Once she’d rolled to the side to avoid it (and got herself covered in even more trash, how wonderful), she picked herself to her feet and assessed her surroundings.

Well. Trash… trash… more trash… was there anything useful on this stupid planet? Aside from the curious wormholes in the sky, and the scrappers dotted around the landscape, it was unimpressive. 

“Are you a fighter? Or are you food?”

She whirled around to see a group of- somethings coming towards her. They seemed disgusting little creatures. She scoffed and turned away.

“It is food!” The leader declared. “On your knees-”

He never finished his sentence, the pike in his chest being too much of an impediment. The other creatures didn’t seem too worried, a sure sign of low intelligence. 

They would be fun to kill.

And fun they were- she stood satisfied (and a little tired, though she’d never admit it) over their bodies not 2 minutes later. Well, they weren’t fun, not really, pathetically easy was a better term, but she hadn’t killed anyone in so long that she would take what she could get. 

She wandered over to the nearest body in search of money (as much as she could just waltz into a store and murder everyone and then take what she wanted, the more sensible side of her decided that maybe large scale murder wasn’t the best solution to every problem), knowing she would have to buy food eventually, and Odin hadn’t exactly given her an allowance when she was in Hel. She was in the middle of trying to find where this thing kept its damn money anyway when she felt something sharp latch onto the side of her neck.

What-

Her thoughts were cut off by a searing pain in her neck, and her body convulsed before falling to the ground. Oh, Norns, that hurt. 

She squinted up at the approaching figure. When they get closer, I’ll grab them. Unfortunately, the figure- she thought it might be a woman- paused out of range, and much as Hela might have wanted to reach out and grab her leg, everything still hurt far too much (real warriors do not feel pain, daughter) and she didn’t know what might happen if she tried to move again.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Did she know that voice? She thought she might know that voice. It sounded familiar, deep in the recesses of her brain, somewhere she must have heard that before-

Zzap. Ow.

“What-”

“What should we do with you, do you think?” The figure was in range now, she could reach her, she knew she- no. This woman had control of whatever was sending currents of pain dancing through her body, it would be a very bad idea to try to grab at her leg, even she knew that (Hela was, while a little quick-tempered and impulsive, not an idiot). 

“Where am I?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Hela had no time, or the strength, to block the boot before it hit her face. The last thing she saw before slipping away was the woman grabbing her by the legs and dragging her across the ground.

----------------------

Scrapper 142 had been having a wonderful day before the Asgardian fell through the sky.

Well, perhaps “wonderful” was a strong word- one didn’t have many wonderful days on Sakaar. But she’d gotten out of bed and realized she had a wonderful bottle of ale sitting somewhere in her home, and had started off the day with a buzz singing under her veins. The Grandmaster had let her pretty much do whatever the hell she wanted, too, so after a visit to her favorite bar to get more alcohol in her system, she’d gotten in her ship and flown out to the trash heaps- maybe she could find something interesting, and if not, she could always just kick some of the other scrapper’s asses.

And, oh, she certainly found something interesting. 

She’d been drawn to the noise of the fight like a moth to a light. She almost made a grand entrance with her ship, but then the noises stopped. Usually this might mean that the scrappers had killed off whoever it was, but they were normally so much louder than this. So whoever fought them must have- what, won? 

If so, she had a contender. She wondered how much she could ask for this one.

She dug an obedience disk from her pocket and made her way around one of the trash piles. She couldn’t see whoever it was (probably a woman, but one could never be sure), they were kneeling over one of the scrapper’s bodies, looking for pockets. Smart.

Too bad she wouldn’t be getting any further with that.

With a practiced flick of her wrist, the disk latched onto the woman’s neck. She allowed her a brief moment of confusion (she was merciful that way) before activating the electricity. The woman convulsed and fell to the ground.

She wondered briefly if it was cheating to knock people out with electricity before attempting to capture them, then brushed the thought aside. Of course it was cheating- cheating that would get her paid. 

She stopped short when she saw the woman on the ground. She was still slightly conscious- a feat in and of itself- but that wasn’t what made her stop in shock.

Is that-

No. It couldn’t be. Hela Odinsdottir was trapped in a prison, at least until Odin- wait. Could he- she had no idea how long it had been since she’d come to Sakaar. Still, she hadn’t thought it had been quite so long as to see Odin’s death. 

Yet, here was the evidence. Looking up at her with a dazed expression on an almost worryingly gaunt face (well of course she’s thin, dumbass, she’s been living in Hel, she reminded herself) was the Goddess of Death herself.

She had the Goddess of Death under her control. She had control of the obedience disk that she’d embedded in her neck. Thoughts of revenge flew through her mind, and she smirked. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

She thought she saw a flicker of recognition on Hela’s face at her voice. That wouldn’t do- as much as she wanted to take well earned revenge, she didn’t want that much of a confrontation. Too close to home. The best thing she could do was bring her to the Grandmaster- yes, that would be perfect. She could demand so much money she may never have to work again, she’d get to watch Hela be subjugated (not that that was something she normally enjoyed seeing, but this was a special occasion), and she might even get to see her get beaten up, if she went against the Hulk. Sure, she could beat him in other circumstances, but the Grandmaster wouldn’t let his beloved champion lose.

She zapped Hela again, and she jerked on the ground. “What-” she muttered, sounding dazed.

“What should we do with you, do you think?” She was smirking now- and probably enjoying this far too much. Hela, somehow, was able to muster up some semblance of fury, and looked like she might reach out and grab her leg as she walked closer, but held back, showing that she at least had some self restraint. She’d wondered, sometimes.

Instead, she groaned out, “Where am I?”

Scrapper 142 scoffed. “Oh, shut up.”

She took perhaps too much satisfaction in the way that her boot connected with her face.

----------------------

“Fear not, for you are found.”

What the fuck.

“You are home, and there is no going back. No one leaves this place.”

Not if she could help it. Hela started coming back to her senses, looking around at the strange scene in front of her. What was happening?

“But what is this place? The answer is- Sakaar!”

Huh? Hela had never heard of this place. It must not be overly important- it was, after all, covered in trash. It was a stupid name, anyway.

“Surrounded by cosmic gateways, Sakaar lives on the edge of the known and unknown.”

Cosmic gateways. Now that was interesting. No wonder so many strange creatures and things were here. Maybe she should take over this planet. Clean it up a bit.

“It is the collection point for all lost and unloved things. Like you.”

Excuse me? Hela’s fists tightened underneath her restraints. What was this- strange hologram to say that she was unloved? (No one could ever love you, daughter) She should kill it. Can you kill a computer…?

“But here on Sakaar, you are significant. You are valuable. Here, you are loved.”

She was going to punch something. The first thing she could find when she got out of this stupid chair, preferably someone’s face. Was this speech supposed to be calming? It wasn’t working- she was feeling more and more murderous by the second.

“And no one loves you more than the Grandmaster.”

Who the hell was that? He looked easy enough to kill. If he ruled over this planet, it shouldn’t be too hard to take over. A nice warm up before getting back to Asgard.

“He is the original. The first lost, and the first found. The creator of Sakaar and the father of the Contest of Champions.”

Contest? Bah. She could win that easily. Focus, Hela, we’re not here to win a contest, she chided herself.

“Where once you were nothing, now you are something. You are the property of the Grandmaster.” 

She was no such thing! Who did this Grandmaster think he was?! She was Hela Odinsdottir, heir to the throne of Asgard, Goddess of Death, and this- this showman thought he was going to take control of her?! Once she got out of this chair, she was going to show that son of a-

“Congratulations! You will meet the Grandmaster in 5 seconds.”

Oh, goody. She would get to murder someone in 5 seconds. She couldn’t wait.

“Prepare yourself. Prepare yourself. You are now meeting the Grandmaster!”

A series of bewildering images flashed by her eyes, and as she felt herself rush forward, she suppressed the urge to scream….

And the image fell away to reveal a group of people standing and staring at her.

“Let me go! Let me go, you imbeciles, you cretins, do you know who I am? I will kill all of you-”

She cut off, mostly in astonishment, as the strangely dressed man in front of her began laughing. She gaped at him as he chuckled and clapped his hands together. “Oh, this is a fun one. You always get me the best toys, 142, just wonderful. Cretins, is that what she- this is a she, right?”

“Yes,” the woman named ‘142’ smirked. “It is a she.”

“Yes, I thought so. Quite a feisty one we have here, she’ll be fun, I’m sure. You truly are the best, 142, just the best. She brought me my beloved champion, you know.”

“You say that every time she’s here,” scowled another woman, glaring at 142 with contempt. 

“So what have you brought today?”

“A contender.”

“What are you talking about? Who do you think you are?”

“Real mouthy, I like that. Take me closer, I need to take a look. There we go- thanks.”

Hela put as much fury behind her glare as possible as the Grandmaster came closer to her, and then was distracted by 142 sniggering behind him. The nerve of her!

… though, on closer inspection- did she know her? She could have sworn that she knew her. It shouldn’t be too hard to remember. She hadn’t exactly had much of a chance to socialize in Hel, so she must have known her at least a little for her to be able to recognize her after all these years. But who…

“Pay this lady.” The Grandmaster interrupted her thoughts, and she snapped her head back towards him.

“Hey! I am not for sale, you pathetic creature, let me go this instant-”

Summoning all of her strength, she pulled up on her restraints, and tore them free. She grinned triumphantly for a brief moment before 142 held up a strange device and-

Owwwww.

“What in the Norns-”

“I’ll take 20 million.”

The other woman scoffed. “Tell her she’s dreaming.”

“Oh, transfer the units.”

Hela struggled back into a dignified sitting position. “Hey! Let me go! You!” To her surprise, 142 paused on her way out when she screamed at her. “Who are you? Do I know you? Why are you doing this? Answer me!”

142 turned around slowly, looking her up and down. She smirked, and held up the device.

“What are you-”

Ow.

Damn her.

“Well, this is certainly exciting,” the Grandmaster grinned, and he got up, dragging her chair with him- the restraints snuck back around her wrists. She did not bother ripping free again.

“Here’s what I wanna know,” he said conversationally, as if he hadn’t just bought her like a common mule, “Who are you?”

“I am the Goddess of Death, you ignorant peon, and I shall raze this city to the ground-”

“Aw, cute. Death. So, what, can you see ghosts? You might as well be a ghost, you aren’t looking too good, must not go out much, huh?”

She scowled as the second woman came up to the Grandmaster again. She told him she was the Goddess of Death, and he laughed. He called her cute. She was going to murder him. (If he’s that flippant, he could be very powerful, her sensible side warned her. I’m still going to murder him, she argued back.)

She felt her chair moving, sidling up next to another chair with a sniveling man in it. He was crying- only weak people cry, and you aren’t weak, are you?- and whimpering as the Grandmaster talked. “Please, I’m sorry,” he wailed. 

“Carlo, I pardon you,” the Grandmaster smiled. Oh, please. 

“Thank you,” Carlo sobbed. “Thank you.”

“You are officially pardoned- from life.” Yes, that was more like it. He didn’t seem like the type of person to just pardon people who had done something wrong. She hoped she would get to see him die. Maybe she could be his executioner.

He grabbed the woman’s staff, and jabbed it into the man’s midsection, causing him to melt into a puddle.

Oh, Norns. Hela was a violent soul by nature, but that was- why would he melt him? It made such a horrible mess. In Asgard, she would just cut people’s heads off, they never melted anyone, that was- well, they probably would have if they had the ability, but it was still barbaric. When she took over this planet, she would go back to good old fashioned beheadings.

The- ooze seeped out on the floor. “Oh, ew, look, I’m stepping in it. I’m stepping in it!”

Hela wrinkled her nose, and he looked at her. “Does it smell? What does it smell like?”

The woman behind him smirked. “Burnt toast.”

The Grandmaster chuckled, then turned to her. “Where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself. Come on, follow me.”

As if he gave her much of a choice. The chair moved into a new room. “My name is Grandmaster. I preside over a little harlequinade called the Contest of Champions. People come from all over to unwillingly participate in it. And you, my friend, might just be part of the new cast. What do you say to that?”

“Release me at once! I must return to Asgard and claim my rightful place on the throne-”

“Ass-guard?” She flushed. He just laughed at her and moved away.

She struggled for a bit with her restraints. She felt- weak. Sluggish. A little dizzy, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She must be very, very far away from Asgard, even further than she had been in Hel. Everything was too bright, colors she hadn’t seen in thousands of years assaulting her senses in droves, and it was giving her a headache. It wasn’t overly loud in the room, but it still made her ears hurt- the only sound she’d heard until recently was that of her own voice (she’d made a habit out of talking to herself some 200 years after she tried escaping her prison). 

After giving up (she wouldn’t get far anyway, not with this stupid thing in her neck), she shut her eyes tight, shook her head, and opened them again. No better. She wondered if anyone would give her something to eat- she hadn’t needed to in Hel (though she still felt the hunger sharply), and now that she was out, she would need to get something in her system. Asgardians could not heal nearly as fast when they were low on food, especially so far away from their home. 

She happened to turn her head to the side when her eye caught something familiar. Her brother. Her brother was here. Sitting there, without a chair or restraints, happy as could be, telling a story and surrounded by people. Not Thor, the small- what was his name again? Oh, Norns, she should- Loki! It was Loki.

“Loki! Loki!”

She knew she sounded desperate, but, at this point, she was. She had no way of getting off of this planet or even out of this chair, her head hurt, she needed food, and she needed to get to Asgard now.

He gaped at her, then let out a laugh. Oh, honestly- what was it with people and the laughing recently? Couldn’t they see that she was going to kill them all-

“Oh, sister, that’s quite the predicament you’re in,” he smiled, sidling up to her. “Thor managed to kick you out of the Bifrost, then?”

“Oh, shut up. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in a chair?”

“I don’t have a chair.”

“Why not? Answer me, you useless little-”

“I gained favor with the Grandmaster. I’m guessing you just screamed at him to let you go? Called him a few names? No wonder Odin locked you up, you’re horrid at diplomacy.”

“I’m going to kill you-”

“Ah, yes, death threats. How are you going to kill me, sister? You’re stuck in a chair.”

She growled at him.

“Well, hello, you two. Loki, you know my new competitor?”

Loki smirked. “Never met her in my life.”

“That is not- Loki! I’m his sister!”

“Technically I’m adopted.”

Oh. She hadn’t known that.

“And we only met a few weeks ago. I didn’t even know I had a sister. No connection at all.”

“Ah. Do you know if she’s a good fighter?”

“I’m the best,” Hela snarled. Loki smirked at her, again, and shrugged at the Grandmaster.

“I could kill you if you didn’t have this in my neck-”

“Ooh, look at that, she’s threatening me. Tell you what, you defeat my beloved champion, and I’ll let you go back to this Ass place. Ass-berg?”

“Asgard.”

“Whatever. Whoever defeats my champion their freedom they shall win.”

“Then I’ll defeat him. When do we fight?”

“Slow down there, feisty pants. So eager, so eager- you have to promise me you won’t kill any of the other prisoners, alright? You seem like you would, all the death threats- do you think she would, Loki?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Shut up.”

“Alright, well, let’s get you to it. Come on.”

A group of guards came to get her, and she jerked once more at the restraints before they led her away.

------------------------

“LET ME OUT!” Her shrieking did nothing- nor did throwing herself at the wall. She kicked it for good measure, and slumped down to the floor (exhaustion was starting to hang off of her like a heavy cloak). 

“No point to that. Door’s impenetrable.” She looked up, finding a- rock? 

“What in the Nine Realms are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a Kronan. Ended up here after I tried to start a revolution, and failed. My name’s Korg, by the way.”

“I don’t care. What can you tell me about this champion?”

“Are you facing him?”

“Yes. And then I’m going to get out of this cell, take over this stupid planet, and leave.”

His face brightened. “Would you like to join my revolution?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You just said your last one failed.”

“Well, yeah. But this time I’m gonna print enough pamphlets.”

Idiots. She was surrounded by idiots. She groaned and rested her head back on the wall.

“Anyway, you seem like you’d be a good addition! You should join us.”

“I’m good.”

“Alright then. I suppose it doesn’t matter if you’re facing the champion anyway.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, no one’s fought the champion and survived. Like Doug over there. He always used to talk about getting out of here one day. Poor Doug.”

She scoffed. “Well, clearly this champion has never faced anyone as powerful as me before. I shall defeat him and leave this wretched planet.”

“That’s what Doug always said. See you later, New Doug!”

Ugh. 

She found herself wishing she had her cape- would’ve been more comfortable, something to cover up (her armor was still in tatters). She wondered, with more urgency than before, whether she would be getting food anytime soon. Her headache was mounting (though her eyes hurt much less with the dim lighting and gray walls of her cell), her back was starting to hurt from falling onto a trash heap, and her entire body ached from the numerous shocks. She tried to pull the disk off of her neck- this did nothing but shock her again.

Damn.

She sat in boredom for a while, kicking a bit at one of the stones that had fallen off of- Kurg? No, Korg. She got up and wandered around, only to discover that the cell was one long, ah, “freaky circle” with no apparent sense to it. She would, it seemed, simply have to sit still and wait until they brought her out to fight the champion.

------------------------------------

Hela was horrible at waiting.

Waiting was before a battle, her father barking orders to his troops and telling her to not disappoint him, the only order she had ever needed. Waiting was sitting in the healing wards and waiting for a healer when she was perfectly fine anyway, a stab wound was nothing compared to her normal injuries and it was healing on its own just fine. Waiting was the horrible feeling from her youth when she still wasn’t quite used to her new role of executioner, standing by her father’s side to see whether or not she would have to kill someone that day and whether or not she would be able to do it.

And the Grandmaster kept her waiting for hours.

When they were finally brought to a different room with racks of weapons, Hela relaxed. This she could handle. She immediately made her way over to the knives. The stupid pile of rocks followed.

“Ready to go up against the champion?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what Doug said.”

She was growing sick and tired of hearing about Doug. He seemed like he had been an overly optimistic and ultimately weak being. She despised those. Weakness could never be tolerated, and optimism got you nowhere in life.

“Anyway, what kind of weapons do you like? What about this big wooden fork?”

She eyed it warily. It was similar to her usual preferences, but it seemed a pretty pointless weapon. “No.”

“Yeah, not really useful. Unless you were fighting off three vampires that were huddled together.”

Completely against her will, Hela’s lips quirked up into a slight smile before she forced them back down. The useless sack of rocks was a lesser being to her, she should not be laughing at anything he said. 

“Oh! I don’t think I ever introduced you to Meek-”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh. Ok then. Hey, what about this set of knives?”

“I’ve got my own knives.”

“You’ve got your own weapons on you? If I were you, I’d have used them by now.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t get far with this stupid thing in my neck and- hey!”

Her gaze had caught the cause of her situation- Scrapper 142. She was arguing with some bartender over a drink, likely using the money she’d gotten that day when she’d sold her. “Who’s she?” she asked. She knew who the woman was, of course, but- there had to be something more. She knew her. 

Maybe she invaded her planet, once upon a time.

“Oh, her? Yeah, Scrapper 142. She’s strong. Drinks a lot.”

“She’s the one who put me in here.”

“I’m not surprised. Gotta look out for those Asgardians, man.”

Asgardian?

She blinked at Kurg, brain taking a moment to process the information, before rushing up to the bars. “Hey!”

142 slowly turned around, and, upon seeing who she was, smirked and held up the stupid zappy thing. “Don’t you dare shock me with that again. I know you’re Asgardian, you know me, let me go this instant!”

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a swig of her drink. “Apologies, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid I won’t be doing you that favor. Or any, really. You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Should I?” Hela drawled, trying to hide that she really did not know who this woman was, and it was aggravating.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” 142 growled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a show to watch.”

Kirg came up behind her and clapped a hand down on her shoulder. Her knees nearly buckled, though whether that was from the sheer weight or the lingering exhaustion in her muscles or both was unknown to her. “Yeah, she’s a strange one. Mean, too. I’ve never talked to her but I’ve heard-”

“Shut up.”

“Hey! You’re up, come on.”

“Good luck, New Doug!”

Still scowling, she let herself be led towards the arena.