Following the death of God, war breaks out between the pantheons, leaving violence and politics to determine who will take the title "King of Kings"
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God Complex plays on the interesting similarities and differences from the wor...
First law of the Killer's Code: Respect the elders.
"Azzy, why'd you drag me out here," Nemain complains from behind Azrael. He stands on a cliff across from what might've been a landfill, or perhaps all that's left of a small town. Everything blurs together in this gray, burnt out husk of a realm.
"Azzy," Nemain says again in a much higher pitch. "Hey, Azzy. Are you ignoring me?!" He doesn't respond, even as she prods his back with a straight finger. "Yo! Azzy! Paging Dr.Ding-Dong! Please respond! Your baby needs you!"
Though Nemain's voice implies she's in high spirits, there's a wan look about her and her few movements are sluggish.
"Can we go home yet," Nemain asks before coughing. "I feel gross. Like total yuck. I think I'm on my peri-"
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A ripple forms behind them. Hel steps out and without so much as a passing nod, she picks up Nemain and holds her under her arm.
"You keep this up and I'll get the baby sling," Hel says in a dry tone.
"No," Nemain gasps, "not the dreaded baby sling! Anything but that!"
"So stop distracting him." Hel pauses and Azrael hears her cloak rustling, she must've been putting Nemain down. "He's studying."
The second law of the Killer's Code: Seniority is weighed in souls taken, not years lived.
There's still so much Azrael has to learn. He hadn't sensed Hel's arrival. Even now, the only presences he can count are Nemain's and his own.
Azrael refocuses on the sight before him. The lot is empty but doesn't stay that way for long.
A centaur gallops onto the scene. He has a briefcase beneath his arm and makes sure to keep the cloak around his shoulder pulled up high enough to hide his face. There are two other creatures with him as well, likely the centaur's bodyguards. They're lower than deities but greater than mortals; swine that doesn't even deserve classification.
As expected of a military figure, the centaur's right on time. Azrael, like his master, had been fed this specific time and location. The one who ordered the hit on the centaur called him out here for some sort of exchange, no doubt over the contents of the briefcase. As the job isn't Azrael's he doesn't have all the details. What he does know is that the centaur was a member of The Olympian army during The Apocalypse and that he's been selling information about the family ever since Midgard lost contact with the other Realms. Given there's no way any of these proceedings could have reached Zeus, Azrael suspects this job was orchestrated by the members of the Centaur's own platoon. The Olympians may be considered snakes by every other pantheon but it's hard to deny the loyalty they show one another.
It's funny how guilty the centaur looks. Dumb ass came out to some shady ass ditch where he's obviously going to be murdered all for the chance to earn a bit of Orison.
