Every demon must have their pound of flesh.
The Avengers have fallen. The unity that once protected the Earth no longer remains. Fathers and daughters have been torn apart, families are no longer aligned, and darkness looms upon the horizon. For...
chapter i of the death season: " FOR THE WORLD TO END . "
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" If you fail , if the Tesseract is kept from us , there will be no realm , no barren moon , no crevice where he can ' t find you . You think you know pain ? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain . "
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january 9, 2018
" HEAR ME , AND REJOICE ! "
Fires rages within the dying ship full of its dying people. Heimdall of Asgard lies among the wreckage of his friends, bleeding out, dying. Alarms and fading cries to get help blare in the distance. Help will not come in time.
"You have had the privilege of being saved by the great Titan!"
Two booted feet slowly, methodically step over the lifeless bodies strewn across the debris-covered floor. Men, women, and children stare lifelessly up at the ceiling, their lives having been torn from their bodies so viciously, so mercilessly.
"You may think this is suffering. No..."
A monster of great height, a being of manipulation, Ebony Maw, folds his hands together in front of him as he slowly walks against the flames. A body is dragged along by her hair behind him, her barefeet stumbling over the fallen bodies and broken metal.
"Itis salvation."
Other beings stand amidst the smoke-filled shadows, a bitter light pouring in from ahead. The giant Cull Obsidian finishes dragging the body behind the Maw, twisting and casting her down onto the metal ground. The young woman scowls in anger, throwing out her hands to catch herself and then trying to push herself up.
"The universal scales tipped toward balance because of your sacrifice..."
Proxima Midnight stabs at another gasping body, shoving the blades through the Asgardian's throat before emotionlessly turning towards her father. The Maw turns his gaze down upon the young woman with long brown hair, and his deformed hand slowly trails along the bottom of her jaw.
"Smile."
The brunette slaps the hand away from her face before fully rising to her feet in resistance.
"For even in Death... you have become children of Thanos."
The God of Mischief, Loki Odinson, stands tall within the burning and smokey light. The young woman, the one they call the Death Angel, stands beside him with a dark expression of her own marking her features.
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