Disclaimer: Disgaea and all characters involved belong to Nippon Ichi Software.
Author's Notes: I can't let myself rust too much, nor do I want to remain too inactive without any update. I'm nearly done with a more important story, but I still want to ship something somewhere to keep people knowing I'm still alive and still writing. So I figure, a one-shot with a possibility of extending into an actual story, never hurts.
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Reincarnation: A Sinner's Rebirth in the Netherworld.
By: Knight of Paradox
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Finally, they had caught the man. Covered in the blood of his victim, his groin still warm from the act and his weapon still in his hand, the man was leaning over the ledge. It was obvious what would happen to him, if he were to surrender himself the worst of tortures would come to him and his life would be short nevertheless. On the other hand, if he jumped, perhaps he could make it. There was the clashing waves underneath, but the water continuously rose up and came down, showing the vicious rock floor that would welcome him if ever his timing was off. Then, there was the option of assaulting the officer before him, but his partner was close too, and more cars were coming, the sirens alerting the criminal of their presence.
There was nothing more to do, but to risk it. Swallowing loudly, the man gulped at the prospect of dying, but worse yet at the idea of what would happen to him if he were caught. There wasn't enough time to choose, and panic had caught him too. Hysteric and desperate, he made a leap for freedom, in hopes that he would come crashing into the water, and hopefully retain his consciousness to swim away. Otherwise, he would be but a simple red stain for some social worker to clean up.
And thus he leapt, screams fading away as the rush of adrenaline immersed his every senses. He felt as if he was flying, weightless and thoughtless, there was nothing but the sight underneath him, of the water rising, and pulling away. Revealing to him his fate.
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Slowly, he came to. There was a sort of pain coursing through him, but he couldn't explain what it was... Was he alive? Had he made it away? His body was wet, indeed it was, but he knew not of what it was. Guessing that he had made it, the wild guess was that of water, yet there was a certain stench to it. Perhaps it was the sweat, or perhaps the dried blood of those parents he gutted, or maybe it was the blood of that little virgin slut he assaulted. Well, it mattered little. He could breathe, and he could feel the cold wet ground. There was not a sound around for miles save for the wind, and he would guess that he was saved. The devil was on his side that day.
But when he came up upon his feet, and began to wander around blindly in the darkness, he began to ponder upon various things. How come there was not a single sound save for the wind? Where was the clashing waves, or the scent of the sea? How come this pain of his felt both real yet a simple lingering illusion. Then came the matter of this stench, this horrible stench of death all around him...
It was not long before he would discover what had happened to him. He couldn't believe it at first, he wouldn't believe it at first... But he had died, his spirit had long left his body and now lingered within this strange cold poorly lit area, yet there was a sort of light before him, far away. It was like an illuminated room, whose radiance would barely seep through the curtains to come tease his sight.
Like nearly anyone would have done in his own place, he couldn't help but find the temptation to move forward. And as he neared the light, there began his horror. Claws reached out towards him, he could not believe that such a stench could exist, until he found himself covered in it. The stinking green and blue flesh, rotting away like a thousand year old corpse drying out into the sun, sliming unto him in a most uncomfortable of sensation. Their strength felt almost unmeasurable, as he could do nothing to defend himself against it. Resist as he might, he was lifted off the ground and brought to light. Standing upon a simple stand, as if he were in court. And it was then that he could do nothing but hope that it was all but a dream.
Before him, stood various round shadows, that of which he could not see. Various voices were speaking and he could not understand any of it. All he could understand was that he was in what appeared to be a twisted mockery of a trial. Two guards, which had now sent a cold chill down his spine, and a scream of horror up his throat, who were exactly what one would suspect a ghoulish zombie to be in reality. Their brains appearing within the holes in their face, their liquids barely flowing through if not sliming about and various other details that would bring disgust to even a most desensitized person such as he.
If these horrors were to his side, he could not imagine what was held before him. But before he could understand anything, words were being shouted about, screams were being turned through back and forth. And finally, the gavel struck, and the image before him, now forever etched within the depth of his mind, was that of the form he would soon come to learn he was sentenced to. A dark blue smooth skin stitched together upon sticks into a bizzare comedic form of a zombified penguin. Perhaps under other circumstances, he would have laughed at it, but at the moment, the shock and the sudden appearance of it all, after such a life altering event he had just managed to theoretically escape from, brought nothing but horror after horror in this strange place.
The gavel struck still, screaming for order, as he could understand but a single word soon chanted in unison around him as if a cheering for the circus show that he appeared to be for these creatures: Guilty, Guilty, Guilty.
It was then, that the statues which adorned the side of the stand, began to move, and the man could feel himself faint, as their claws tore through what he believed what his stomach.
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There was a strange sensation now. His body was being crushed; at least he thought it was his body. He could feel it, he could hear it, and he could see it. Large stone claws digging into him, turning his body into nothing more then shredded meat, well tenderized and rolled up into what appeared as if a ball. He could guess from now, he was dead. There was nothing more to it... He was dead, and punished, sentenced and judged in what he believed was hell. Nothing could protect him now, and his eternal torture would surely arrive soon. His last memory before all would fade away once again, for the last time in his existence, would be the sensation of having his every being, crammed and crushed and stuffed, inside something that felt like a rugged, leathery large bag.
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When all was gone, he was nothing more then an entity, used to fuel the life of a newly born being. And in his rebirth, he could see the world around him, which felt all the more normal now. He could sense everything around him, all so alien yet all so strangely familiar. He could hear the screams, which he both feared yet felt entertained by and wishing to join. He could sense everything anew, and he could not understand it. He was himself, somewhere deep inside, and yet he wasn't. He knew who he was, yet it felt as if a distant memory, no longer who he was.
No, now he was but a simple Prinny. Nothing more, then another Prinny and he knew that. Eager and awaiting, he wondered just what kind of life would await him, for it appeared as if someone had summoned him... His eyes came upon his summoner, who would direct him towards the one who had expended the mana for him to come into being within this plane of existence.
And deep inside, the one who lived long before would wonder, just what was this jailbait in the leather outfit doing in front of him? He'd probably do her and toss her away, but he found himself cowering soon enough. Something was obvious, whoever she was, she was much stronger then he. And it mattered very little what his previous being could think or say, for he was no longer the man he was. Nor was he much of a man now anyway.
"Hello there. My name is Etna, and from now on, you're going to serve me. Is that clear?" And with a wicked smile upon this red haired devilish temptress, he would soon learn that redemption is a painful price to pay in the afterlife.
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Author's Notes: Alrighty. This little story, which was done on a spur, could be a one-shot or it could be continued. I really don't care either way, so I'll see how it goes with the opinion of the public on reviews and think about it based on that. I did this pretty quickly, so it might not be as good as what I usually write, but I also wanted to know if I've gotten better, worse, or if I've kept myself at an adequate quality.