Author's Note: Hello, everyone! To all my old readers from Puberty is Hell, welcome! And to all my new readers . . . welcome as well! Puberty is Hell is not dead! Far from it! I simply was waiting for Disgaea Infinite to release, and I love its Database! So much information for me to incorporate! If you haven't played it yet, then shame on you! If you're a fan of Disgaea, for the budget price of $20 dollars you should pick it up if only to experience the joy of forcing Laharl to molest Jennifer's sexy body! But, then again, I realize that not everyone will take the transition from SPRG to visual novel well, so to each his or her own, I suppose.
Anyway, this is sort of a tie-in to Puberty, as it explains how a certain pair of characters from another Nippon Ichi game end up with a cameo role in the next chapter of Puberty. Slight spoilers for Soul Nomad and the World Eaters.
Red moon, red moon . . .
Cleanses the sinful and makes them anew . . .
Shining brightly in the night sky,
Waiting for the souls . . .
Who will be born again tonight?
Who will be born again tonight?
The red moon shone overhead, painting the netherworld a bloody hue as the damned sang their haunting dirge; its melody carried upon the air—that is, until a cry of rage shattered the serenity.
"Sweet holy crap!" A masculine voice cursed violently. "Do these little shits ever shut up!" it demanded. "I swear, the next one of these little walking sacks of sin that opens their beaks is going to get to be reincarnated at the point of my scythe!"
A pale skinned man with gray hair floated lazily off the ground, his hands fisted in irritation. His left eye twitched dangerously. A cloaked figure stood silently behind him, not making any comment to the man's outburst.
"How'd I get conned into doing this, anyway?" the man asked.
"Lujei," the cloaked figure responded, in a sweet feminine voice that not many would expect from Death him—herself.
"Oh, yeah!" the man muttered darkly. "When I get my hands on that bitch, I'm going to shove her staff so far up her ass, she'll choke on it!" he promised, smiling, envisioning the act of violence in his head.
"At least you got your body back," the cloaked female offered, watching as the zombie-like penguins climbed their way up to the peak where she and her angered male companion were waiting.
"Yeah, I suppose there is that. Pretty sweet of that holy old bastard to pull some strings," the male recalled.
(Flahsback to earlier)
"Sunnuva bitch!" a man cursed, as a red-haired woman who wore only a pair of pants and a metal bikini fell upon her back. "Hey, kid, where the hell did that nutjob send us?"
Groanin,g the red-haired woman rolled off her back and pushed herself to her feet, looking around. She blinked, taking in an expansive field of flowers that stretched for as far as her eye could see. "No idea," she grumbled. "Pretty, though."
"Pretty?" The male voice asked incredulously. "It's like the 70s—only without taking any of the good shit first! I'm going to have cavaties just seeing all this crap!" he lamented, sounding extremely pissed.
"At least nothing's tried to kill us, yet," the woman replied, getting to her feet and brushing a few flowers off her pants. "Kind reminds me of Drazil," she said thoughtfully. "But, you know, less of me and more flowers."
"Oh?" a calm, serene voice asked. "Are you by chance lost?" it inquired. The red-haired woman spun around, drawing forth a black sword, tongues of flame licking the edge of the blade.
The owner of the voice, a tall man with long silver haired blinked at the appearance of the sword, then leaned in to look at it closer. "I must say, that is quite a unique blade," he commented. "It seems to be demonic in origin. Did you by chance get it from the netherworld?" he asked pleasantly, but when he got no answer, he simply smiled at the woman. "Oh well, it doesn't matter," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, and the woman noticed for the first time that he had six feathered wings coming from his back. "But I assure you that you have no need of it. I have no intention of harming you."
"Like hell we do! Who the hell do you think you're talking to, you glorified pigeon! Come any closer and the kid and I will pluck you!" the masculine voice roared.
The angel (if that is what he was) took a step back, his eyes widening in shock. "Hmm, most intriguing," he commented, folding his hands behind his back. "You have another soul in your body, do you not?" he asked, then looked closer at the woman. "And . . . you yourself are not human, are you?"
"You got that right!" the voice boasted. "I'm the killer the kings and the destroyer of worlds! I'm the maddest of the mad, and the baddest of the bad! I'm the one, the only, indestructible Gig!" the voice crowed, and then added in an aside, "Oh, and this kid is my soul mate."
The woman frowned sourly at the comment and glared down at her navel. "Gee, thanks," she said. She did have achievements in life then being the soul mate of a genocidal god of death, but said god didn't seem to—or most likely chose to ignore—that fact.
"He he, not a problem." The red-haired woman sighed, far too accustomed to Gig to do anything other.
"I see," the man smiled kindly. "And may I ask what you are, almighty Gig? You do not seem demon, or even angelic. You are certainly not a human, that is for sure," the six-winged angel observed.
"Where me and the kid come from I'm the god of Death in the mortal world, and the premier ass kicker to ever walk the earth—then I got shoved into the kid here. The kid can take quite a few names down, too," he added, sounding almost proud. The woman blinked; apparently Gig was in a chatty mood.
"Where you come from?"
"Geez! What's with the twenty question?" Gig asked. "Listen, we came across a complete whack job who can bend time and space, and she'd thought it be a hoot to send us to wherever the hell this crap-sack is! Seriously, who does your decorating? It looks like someone decided to crap a rainbows and flowers all over this place. I swear, if I see just one puppy anyway, I'm going to kick it," he warned, his tolerance of cuteness far past exceeded just by being in this place.
"This is Celestia, where the virtuous go upon leaving the mortal coil, and I am Lamington, Seraph and leader the heavenly host. In the name of all angels, I welcome you here, Gig and . . . I apologize, I do not believe I got your name, miss?" he asked of the red-haired woman.
She smiled at the angel and returned her sword to her back. "Revya," she introduced herself, shaking the angel's hand.
"You welcome me!" Gig asked. "Boy, are your standards low! I once cut a kid from crown to crotch simply because the little shit wouldn't stop blubbering after I cut his mom's head off!" Gig let out an disturbing giggle, and Revya shivered at the sensation that his glee sent through her body. "Good times," Gig recalled.
Lamington smiled at the woman. "That may be true, but I can sense that you are now good."
"What the hell!" Gig cursed. "Who the hell do you think you are, ya old bastard! Come on, kid, I don't have to take this slander!"
Revya thought of opening her mouth to point out that the angel was correct, but knew that it would only get her body-mate even more pissy than he already was. Giving the silver-hared angel a small wave, she turned on her heel to leave.
"You do realize we have no idea where we're going, right?" she asked.
"Hey, have I ever stared you wrong before, soul mate," Gig cooed mockingly.
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
"Damn it! Just move this flesh suit and don't give me back talk!"
"Wait!" the angel interrupted, before the red-haired woman could get too far. "I have a proposition for you," he offered.
"And what could you have that I could possibly want?" Gig asked arrogantly, and Revya rolled her eyes at being ignored.
"I could give your body back," the angel offered.
Gig was strangely silent for a while before answering. "What's the catch?"
"Straight to the point, I see," the Seraph said, sounding pleased. "Yes, I will require a favor in return, I'm afraid. You see, in this world, those who have sinned in life must repent in death. The souls of the damned are placed in shells called prinnies and perform acts of servitude here in Celestia and the Netherworld to earn repentance for their prior misdeeds. Then, when the red moon shines down upon the netherworld, those prinnies who have redeemed themselves, are ferried by Death to the moon, where their trangesions are cleansed and they may be reborn again, clean and pure.
"Only, recently Death has passed on, and we have no replacement for the upcoming red moon. So if you would be as kind as to kind the prinnies to their new lives, I would happily provide you with a new body and refer you to the Overlord of netherworld, where you could most likely use his dimensional gate to travel back to your world."
"So, I just have to babysit a couple of brats in time-out, and I get my body back—no strings attached?" Gig asked.
"That is correct," Lamington nodded.
". . . What do you think, kid?" Gig asked.
Revya shrugged. "Well, it would be nice to be able to take a bath in privacy again," she contemplated.
"Ha! Don't deny it! You know you like me looking at you. After all, what woman wouldn't want the great Gig to give them the privilege of his magnificent attention?"
"And what a magnificent privilege it is," Revya said, flatly.
"Damn straight! But still, as nice as your body is and all, kid, I want my own body back. Hey, old guy, you got yourself a deal!"
(Present)
"At least you got your body back," the cloaked woman said.
"Yeah, but there was no mention of singing when I agreed!" Gig complained, and likely would have continued to, had the first prinny not waddled up to him upon its peg legs.
Gig stared at the at strange creature, which he might have recognized to be an extremely macabre version of a penguin had they existed in his world.
"What the hell are you? Are all you guys as ugly as shit?" he asked the small sinful soul.
The penguin blinked up at him. "What do ya mean, dood? I'm a prinny, dood!"
Gig stared. "Did you just call me 'dood'?" he asked in a threatening voice.
"No, dood!" the prinny said, now sweating—and both Gig and the cloaked woman wondered how what was essentially an animated doll could sweat. "I meant no disrespect, dood!"
"You just called me it again!" Gig screamed, picking up the prinny and shaking it.
"Gig!" the cloaked figure yelled. "Put him down!"
"Whatever," Gig grumbled, tossing the penguin over his shoulder—and stopped when an explosion sounded behind him. Turning around, he found a now-charred penguin lying still among a blackened crater. "Did that freaky thing just explode?" he asked, turning to the cloaked woman.
Speechless, she could only nod!
"What kind of whack-out shit is this life cycle!" Gig roared to the heavens. "And why the hell are you wearing that stupid ass outfit!" he demanded of the woman.
She shrugged. "The prinnies are expecting Death, right? I figured this might make it easier," she explained, pulling down the hold to reveal her red hair.
"You're way too soft for someone who could just eat all these sinful little shits, you know that?"
The woman merely smiled at him.
"Whatever," Gig dismissed, and a flash of dark light appeard before him. Wrapping his fist about the distortion, he took hold of it and it solidified into a large black scythe, with a crimson blade. "Let's get this over with."
Gig walked forward the amassing prinnies and swung his massive scythe a few times in practice. "Alright! Line up in a single file line so that I can reap your asses back in to the cycle," he announced. "And don't worry: this is going to hurt you mooks a lot more than it's going to hurt me. But please, I know that none of you have a pair, but try not to be a bunch of candy-ass little bitches about it, or I'll get pissed," he informed them, smiling evilly all the while.
The prinnies stared with wide eyes, shaking in fear.