𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 {𝕞•𝕜﹠ 𝕝•𝕗} ➣ ❘ [𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓𝕶𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗]

·˚𝙞. ༘༄ ꒰𝘑𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩꒱ؘ*ੈ✩

TW: SELF-DEPRECATING THOUGHTS, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, GORE

📍EGYPT

•°.✩.°•

The warmth of the sand prickled against your body as you dragged yourself away from your dead attacker. Dark red oozed from your body, making contact with the warm sad below as the metallic taste filled your tongue.

Apparently, Eleanor Bishop, your sister-in-law, had debt due with Kingpin, but then blew him off. To get revenge, Kingpin sent his men after her, her daughter—Kate and you, of course.

You were a level 9 clearance S.H.I.EL.D agent who had taken most of the part off after Fury went to space. You had even helped Peter Parker by helping him with the Mysterio situation and updated Fury about the situation.

You had come to Egypt to visit a friend who had retired; but unexpectedly, you were ambushed. You had also underestimated Kingpin's men since they weren't like the others you had dealt with in the past.

Now, clinging to your last lifeline, you dragged yourself to prop against the wall of a temple nearby, the blood running down the side of your face as a shiver crept up your spine.

You were sick of it— the secrets— the run— the pain of losing people close to you, like Natasha— the responsibilities— You were drowning within your own mind. You just wanted to end it all and have eternal peace.

But on the other hand, you also wanted to live and not hurt your loved ones by your death. A small part of you wanted to be happy, like others. To enjoy your life to the fullest. To see if life was even worth the pain you go through.

With these contradicting sets of thoughts, you picked up the pistol from the ground near you, that was sticking up from the sand. You loaded it with your bloody and bruised hands, wincing when your bloody pressed against the metal of the weapon.

With a deep breath, you pressed the muzzle of the gun against your bleeding temple, sniffing sharply as your pointer finger went to pull the trigger—

"So much torment. So much suffering," a deep masculine thundered on you in pity.

You paused, opening your eyes to blink cluelessly, "Huh?" you looked around, trying to push yourself up, but no one was in sight.

"I feel the pain inside of you. Hmm,"

"Who are you? What is happening?" you blindly questioned the voice.

"I am the god, Heka, in search of a warrior," the voice answered, "And also an ally; with an offer you are most likely to accept,"

Your hand slid down, falling limply to the floor and the gun fell out of your grip.

"To be my hands, my eyes, my justice," Heka carried on, "To be my final word against the evildoers. To bind your very being to me. And eradicate only the worst, those who deserve it. Do you want death or do you want life?"

You remained silent, comprehending his words, "Are you like a figment of my imagination?"

"I most certainly am not," Heka confirmed, "All you have to do is accept the opportunity,"

"I have a loaded gun pressed to my skull," you scoffed dryly, "You tell me, do I want death or life?"

"Your mind, I feel it. Fractured. Bound back together with thin strands of hope. Most fascinating. And of course pitiful,"

You closed your eyes, and each puff of air that left you hurt your windpipe due to the injuries you sustained while you combated Kingpin's men.

"Fascinating?" you raised your voice in offence, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you choked on the blood in your mouth, leaning to the side to spit it out.

"That you have managed to come this far," Heka answered modestly, "Most with the trauma you have bared wouldn't end up as strong as you have become,"

"Er, thanks?" it came out more as a question.

"You efficiency and ruthlessness as the essence of my warrior would be an unparalleled match," Heka said in calculation, "You are a worthy candidate to serve me. I do not have any intention to maneuver your will and twist and bend it into mine. That is not who I am,"

"Hmm," you hummed to yourself.

"In exchange for your life, do you swear to protect the patron of magic and those who do to them harm?"

"Magic?" you frowned, "What do you mean magic?"

"Several forms of magic are being practiced by mankind. It is my honour and utmost duty to protect them. Do you swear to protect the patron of magic and those who do to them harm?" Heka repeated.

"Yes," you answered after a few seconds of contemplation.

"Then rise,"

The wounds and injuries on your body began to heal themselves as the blood slowly disappeared into nothing.

The ceremonial armour of Heka began to form around your body with a cloud of blue highlighting your outline as your rose from your slumped and defeated position—

Dark blue opera gloves slithered up your outstretched arms; each palm holding glowing balls of blue energy. A high-neck sleeveless cerulean unitard with unique lines of black hugged your body perfectly. It was cut short into two flaps in front of your hips and flowed black as a cape till the back of your ankles.

"Rise as my fist of justice and defence,"

A three-pointed headpiece appeared on the crown of your head, holding your hair back. Your eyes glowed blue as you opened them.

"Rise as my Cerulean Sorceress,"

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───