God of War: World's End

DISCLAIMER: This is my first writing endeavor ever, so please feel free to give me writing advice, constructive criticism, etc.

1

The Mysterious Stranger

Kratos was surrounded by fire, his village engulfed in flame and ash. Kratos turned to face a woman on fire as she staggered towards him, desperately looking for help, desperately searching for water to drench herself, but there was none to be found. Her screams echoed in Kratos' ears. As he backed away from the woman, he stepped on a blackened skull, crushing it beneath his foot. Everywhere he stepped, everywhere he looked, everywhere there was death, scorched earth, and burnt corpses. Kratos coukd only stare at the horror that surrounded him. A s9und came from the ground at his feet. A baby on the ground lay crying, wrapped in a layer of fabric.

"Atreus?"

As soon as he spoke, the baby's face began to melt away, layer by layer. The skin dripped off him like torn tissue paper, then the muscles melted like wax on a candle. The baby reached out his dissolving hand to Kratos only for its arm to break apart like ashes in the wind.

/

Awaking in a cold sweat and breathing heavily, Kratos sat quickly up in his bed. It had been many years since those nightmares woke him, many years since his past had returned to haunt him. He removed the sleep from his eyes and looked to his alarm clock. It was too early to worry about going to work, but there was no chance he could fall back asleep now. He sighed, rubbed his face, raised himself from his bed and shuffled to the kitchen. His small apartment was cheap, but provided the aging man all he needed to live with relative comfort. He had grown so accustomed to the simple things in past centuries. So much has changed so fast. He found it more and more difficult to keep up with the speed of technology. What was once only the power of the gods was now under the control of the mortals. Electricity, flight, space travel, the atom bomb. It still gave him a modicum of amusement to watch the world meet and even surpass the power of the petty gods of old. Humanity had grown up, and in his eyes, it was for the better.

Kratos scooped the coffee into the maker and turned it on. As he went to grab a mug from the cabinet, a faint knock came from the door. Why would anyone be at his door at this hour? Concerned, he moved his way towards the door. Kratos unlocked the four individual locks and opened the door to reveal his neighbor, Tamara, or Tammy for short. She was a math teacher at the nearby high school, a volunteer for the school marching band, and a yoga buff. Vegetarian by choice, as she could never hurt a single animal. Kratos never asked about her, but she always spoke to him whenever they crossed paths in the hall. She would speak of good days and bad days, always asking how Kratos's day went. She would often complain of her own vanity, explaining how she could never go anywhere without making sure her hair was done and her clothes were stylish. What a hassle, she would explain. Yet here she stood, her hair a mess, wearing an old white bath-robe and old stained slippers. She had to look straight up to meet Kratos's eyes, and she would often tease Kratos about the height difference, but now, she didn't seem to be in a mood for jest.

"Tamara", whispered Kratos, poking his head down the hall, then back to Tammy. "It is early".

"Yeah...it is," she whispered back, rubbing her eyes. "You ok? You were yelling and yelling, it scared the cra out of me. You sounded like you were murdering people in there."

Kratos's eye winced. "Bad dream."

"Hell of a bad dream...well you let me know if you need anything, an herbal tea or something. That sounded awful."

"Thank you, Tamara. I apologize if I woke you."

"I just wanted to make sure everything was ok. You should see a doctor about that, it sounded like night terrors or something."

"I doubt the doctors could help. You should return to sleep. You have classes to teach tomorrow."

"Alright man, take it easy. My door is always open for you, but you know that."

"I know that. Sleep well Tamara."

Tammy gave Kratos a half-awake thumbs up and an awkward smile before returning down the hall to her door. Kratos closed the door and returned to the kitchen. The coffee was still brewing, so he shambled his way to the window. He pulled up the blinds in time for the sun to begin rising over the city. New York, a great city to hide. So many strange and unique people in this town that almost no one looks twice at the pale tattooed demigod. If one was searching for such a man, they would be hard done by to find him amidst the sheer volume of people, in a bachelor apartment, wearing a tank top and a pair of Nike shorts, pouring coffee down his gullet.

Or so he thought.

Kratos sat at his kitchen table, finishing the coffee when Kratos's phone suddenly buzzed. He looked down at the phone. No one ever texted him, unless it was about work. He opened the screen. The text was from a private number. The text read: "knock knock". As soon as he read it, a knock came from the door. Kratos, his adrenaline suddenly fueling his body, looked at the text, then at the door. Was it Tamara again? Had the Olympians found him? Had the Asgardians? In his own home?

Kratos grabbed a knife from the kitchen and went to open the door. He unlatched the locks that lined the doorframe and opened it enough to see through. Outside of his apartment stood a man, dressed in all black. He was a taller man, wearing an eyepatch and a long leather jacket.

"What do you want?" Kratos grunted.

"Good morning to you too," said the man, in an tone that very much matched his cold facial expression.

"Speak or leave." Said Kratos curtly. The man raised his eyebrows.

"Your reputation as a conversationalist precedes you. Do you have a moment to talk? Oh, don't worry about the knife, I'm not here looking for a fight. Knowing you, you would win...wouldn't you, Kratos?"

Kratos was taken aback. How could this man know who he was? How did he find him? Who was he? His grip tightened more on the knife, then loosened. The stranger had not made an aggressive move towards him, and he didn't want to stab anybody in his own home. Kratos let the door open fully.

"Who are you?" Kratos asked.

"Me? I'm what you might call a talent agent. Nicholas Fury. Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Can I come in?"

Fury pulled a badge from his wallet and quickly flashed it at Kratos.

"No. Leave." Kratos huffed.

"You haven't even heard why I'm here."

"It does not matter. You have come to the wrong place for what you seek."

"I'm not so sure about that. The pale skin, the red tattoo. I may only have one eye, but you sir, stick out like an extremely sore thumb."

"Leave. My. Home." Kratos warned as he squared off with the man.

"The 'scary mean guy' act isn't gonna work on me." Dury said, taking a step into the apartment. "I've seen meaner, greener, much less reasonable monsters than you. You can be reasonable, I assume?"

Kratos sighed. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative."

"I have had my fill of revenge." Kratos replied.

"I think I said Avenge." Nick replied condescendingly. "Earth is, quite frankly, not ready to step up to the plate if the universe throws us a fast ball. We need...talented people like you to make sure we can seing back. And you have a hell of a track record. We've been keeping tabs on you for a while. Let's see..."

Fury paused as he pulled a paper from his jacket.

"You leveled the entire Olympian pantheon, you killed at least one Asgardian, destroyed the Baba Yaga, single-handedly beheaded the whore of Babylon, killed the witch Morgan le Fay, and the list goes on, and on, and on..." Fury's eyes moved from his paper to Kratos.

"You have a track record of winning, and Earth needs that." Fury continued.

"My past is none of your concern. And my 'track record' is not what you think."

"Oh, we are aware of the bad stuff you did, 'Ghost of Sparta'." Fury added. "If helping defend Earth isn't incentive enough, how about redemption? Join the Avengers, I promise you'll do enough good to make up for it. You're the God of War, and here you are, in a darkened apartment, with coffee stains on your shorts."

"I am no longer that warrior of the past. I abandoned that life a long time ago. I will NOT return to it."

Fury took a moment, sighed lightly, then took a business card out of his jacket and placed it on the kitchen table.

"Think it over." Fury said sternly.

Kratos watched as Fury left his apartment. How did this man find him? How long have they known about him? How much did they really know about his past? His mind grew heavy with questions. He turned his head to look at the card. The card; most likely a return to a world he left all those centuries ago. Defending the world? More likely defending the agenda of some organization. No different than serving the gods. Trickery and manipulation. He thought of returning to a world of battle and bloodshed. A world of death and loss. Revenge and pain. He picked up the card, paused, then threw it in the garbage. Behind him, he could feel a presence, a presence he hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity, taunting him, laughing in silence, a whisper.

"Monster."