To be, or not to be?

Hela Mort, formerly Hera Potter, lounged in her 'father's' office. Death was taking an awfully long time in acquisitions. Perhaps the new souls were ones that he was particularly annoyed with, or maybe they were very interesting. She doubted it though, Death rarely found people interesting. Adorable in a gullible way, yes, interesting, not that often.

She hoped he had something fun for her to do. She'd been watching over the people of her world, #83966006832 and they were really getting very boring. Yes, they had figure doubt a way to go off into space and find another habitable planet before the Earth collapsed into the sun and that good because Death still had souls to collect but they were so boring.

Hela had never been much of a sci-fi fan anyway. Unfortunately her own kind, the Magics had died out many millennia ago back in 19862 AD. Such a pity, for a hot second in the early 15600's it had looked like they would actually manage the world domination.

"Hello darling daughter." Death said as he walked into the office, various files under his arm. Today he had chosen the fat and generic harrowed salesman from 1930's look, a favourite of his.

"Hello wretched father. You called?"

"Hmm, there's been a summoning in one of the worlds, I think it's-" He flipped through one of the files he was carrying, "yes, world #99885857933."

"Isn't that Damien's world?"

"Yes, but it calls for a witch and Damien's too busy prepping his office to handle the paperwork for the next few years in his world to do his gender swap magic thing." He looked up from the files with an amused look. "Apparently his world is only just reaching the Trump is President of the USA phase."

"Ouch," She had seen it happen to her own world tens of millennia ago and it had left its mark on her. Then again, that was way back when she was still clinging on to her Humanity with everything she had. She's come such a long way from there, so much growth! There was a time when she just spent all her time crying for the lives lost. "So, when do I leave?"

"Right now, Damien's waiting for you at his office."

"Goodbye Father."

"See you later, Daughter."

Damien's office was overflowing with files. The poor dear was frazzled as could be especially since his tiny little toddler arms couldn't really reach the higher stacks without a ladder.

"Damien, darling what are you doing?"

"Getting the backlog done with before I get slammed, what do you think I'm doing?!" He said with his weird little deep and manly voice. It used to scare her terribly back when she'd first met him, now it was just another quirk.

She was feeling very nostalgic today.

"Don't worry, in a few years with the climate change and everything, the population's going to be going down at a nice and steady rate, the paperwork will be much easier then. I got so bored back then that I actually had the time and energy to help out Lourdes with his Fourteenth Universe War."

He shot her a relieved smile. "Thanks, I really needed to hear that. Here," He tossed her a sock and she looked at him confused, "I took a note from the Magics in your world, it's a...what was it called, a portlock?"

"Portkey."

"Right you should be there in 3,2,1-"

And with the same old sensation of being squeezed through a tube she found herself in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by chanting figures that stopped once her form became completely corporeal. There was a pentagram with various inscribed designs under her feet and Hela groaned. It was one of those witches, the ones who went on and on about balance and whatnot. Ugh, they were no fun.

The main Wiccan (she refused to call their kind witches, it was an insult to her world's true Magics) turned to the man she noticed tied up to a post with a dagger piercing him, bloodied and disoriented and laughed maniacally.

"Now, monster, you will finally be killed and the Balance restored." The bad thespian wannabe turned to Hela with a smirk that got on her last nerves. "Kill him, oh great and powerful witch."

"Why?" Hela asked and the Wiccans shifted, uneasy.

"Ummm, what?" Another one of the Wiccans asked, "He's an abomination, a crime against nature. Surely you must know this?"

And Hela looked around and noticed the wording engraved in the pentagram and started. "Ohhh, you meant to summon a great Wiccan with the power to kill him from the Other side of your own world."

There were a few boundary wards added into the mix that were meant to keep the Wiccan they summoned within the pentagram until they agreed to do the Wiccan coven's bidding. Those boundaries did not apply to Hela, of course, so she stepped out of the pentagram easily enough.

"W-What-?"

"The thing is you ended up summoning a very powerful witch from another world instead." There was fear growing on their faces as she walked up to the man they wanted her to kill. A little bit of magic and all the blood obscuring the man's face was cleaned off. It was a very pretty face. "Well hello there!"

Panting heavily, strange given the dagger in him, he looked at her and smirked. "Hello, love." He said and she decided then and there that there was no way she was killing him.

"Change of plans." Hela said and with a snap of her fingers, all the Wiccans connected to the summoning ritual dropped dead. She plucked the dagger out of the man's chest and he fell to the ground gasping but healing very quickly.

All that nostalgia she'd been feeling must have gotten to her because the next thing she knew she was looking him up and down and in a manner very reminiscent to something she'd seen in a tv show in the late 1000's and said with a leer, "How you doin'?"

To be