The samurai stood triumphant over his foe, his enchanted blade raised high for the finishing blow. Finally, after fifteen long years of training and preparation, the day of fate has finally come.
Aku, the shapeshifting master of darkness, the deliverer of damnation, the shogun of sorrow, now laid on the ground weak and defeated. It would almost be pitiable, if it were not for the mountains of innocent lives destroyed in this monster's sadistic wake.
Even on death's doorstep, the creature found the hate within him to sneer. "You may win today, samurai, but I will be victorious in the future."
"There is no future for you, Aku," the samurai snarled. "All that is left for you is to be cast back into the pit of hate from whence you came!"
Aku face broke into a cruel smirk. "You first."
"What?"
Aku opened his mouth wide, and out came a shriek so potent it nearly split the earth. It took nearly all the samurai's willpower not to let go of his sword and cover his ears. It was time to end this. The samurai lifted his sword to plunge it down into Aku's black heart, but as he raised his hands, something caught his eye.
Right above the samurai was a pulsating swirl of black and white energy. The samurai's eyes widened. "What kind of sorcery is this?"
The samurai was too late, the energy grew and consumed the samurai entirely. "AKU-" the samurai gave one last defiant yell before falling into oblivion.
Aku clenched his fist and closed his portal. "Do not worry, samurai," the shogun of sorrow rose back into his great height. "We will meet again. But next time, you will not be so fortunate."
A satisfied smile adawned Aku's face. "That is, if you can survive the horrors of my old homeland."
The pentagram rose into the sky, its blazing red aura coating the sky in a blood-red tint. As it reached its apex, hundreds of blood-curdling screams echoed throughout the damned city like a rooster cackle. Screams of those being stabbed, shot, and set on fire- all varieties of tortured wails. And as the denizens of the city woke up from their roach-infested mattresses and looked out their broken windows to the shining pentagram in the sky, one thing was abundantly clear: It was another horrid day in Hell.
But there was something new in Hell today. Up in the sky above the buildings, a tear began to form. A tear in the very fabric of time and space, and it grew until it opened into a swirling vortex of pulsating black and white energy. A portal if there ever was one, and out of this portal fell very distressed samurai.
The samurai quickly righted himself midair. He saw the ground fast approaching him. His eyes darted all around him, searching for anything to slow his descent. He thrust his katana out to the side, and it pierced the flesh of a towering skyscraper. Sparks flew off the blade as it cut through the stone and the samurai's fall began to slow. Using his sword as leverage, the samurai brought his legs to the side of the building and kicked off!
The samurai soared through the air, quickly sheathing his katana. He reached out and snatched onto a nearby lamppost. He spun his body around the pole a good three times before letting go. He front-flipped through air until finally stuck the landing on the sidewalk, not a hair out of place, right in front of an ashy resident.
The smoking skeleton took a long drag from his cigarette, his skin as wispy and gray as the breath of smoke he puffed out. "Damn, Jack, you just get in from the Olympics?"
The samurai's eyes blinked open, evidently unaware that he had an audience. He looked up and visibly balked at the sight of this strange creature seemingly made from smoke and ash. He looked behind himself to see if the question was for someone else.
"I'm talkin' to you, Jack," the smoke played with the cigarette in his fingers. "Or did those steroids shrink your ears as well as your Johnson?"
The samurai blinked, not recognizing half of the words used. "I'm sorry?"
Smoker tossed his cigarette to the side, not even bothering to stamp it out. "You break your neck on the pole vault or what, Jack?"
"I… don't think so?" The samurai scratched his head. His eyes drifted to the crass dreary skyscrapers closing in on them. "Where am I?"
"Specifically?" Smoker took out another cigarette and lit it up. "You're in one of the slightly shittier alley's of the pride ring. In a broader sense?" he spread out his arms to all the depravity and destitution surrounding them. "Welcome to Hell."
"HELL?!" the samurai's knees nearly buckled, sweat began to form on his brow, and he clenched his sword a little tighter than before. "That- that is impossible! There must be some mistake!"
"Sure, buddy," Smoker rolled his eye-sockets and took another drag. "Haven't heard that one before." He let out another puff, seemingly losing interest in the samurai. Or he would have, if something had not just clicked in his head. "... Huh? Now that you mention it, you may actually got a point."
Smoker walked around the samurai, eyeing him up and down. "I ain't ever seen a sinner manage to take their old skin down with 'em. How'd you get so lucky?"
The samurai stepped back, trying to avoid any ash getting on his white kimono. "What do you mean?"
"Human souls down here don't really STAY human," Smoker scratched what should be his chin. "I don't know if it's 'cause the man upstairs got a sick sense of humor or what, but everyone gets turned into some kind of freak or another. Some get messed up based on what sins they committed on Earth. Others change based on how they died."
Smoker wiped some ash off of his crusty old suit. "Me? I smoked about ten too many cigarettes. Lung cancer's a bitch, ain't it?"
The samurai looked over the sinner's smoke-covered skeletal form. "Indeed."
"But you? You still got your human form. The skin, the hair, everything," Smoker took another drag. "What's up with that?"
"I- I'm not sure," Jack scratched his chin. "My mind feels so clouded. The last thing I remember was Aku-" like a switch was flipped, the samurai's eyes widened, and his stance went rigid. "Aku! I was about to strike down the vile creature when he tore open some sort of portal! He must have flung me through it to this retched place!"
"Portal to Hell, huh?" Smoker took another contemplative drag. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
The samurai clenched his fists. "That vile creature. I would not be surprised if this damned plane was his birthplace!" He turned his gaze to the sinner. "Please, you must help me! How can I leave this place and return to the mortal world?"
Smoker said nothing. He just stared at the samurai for a brief moment of pure silence, then he burst out laughing. He chortled so loud that his cigarette fell from his hand, but he didn't even notice while enraptured in his own guffaws. His cackles soon chocked out into coughs, and he nearly fell to his knees, hacking up nearly an entire ashtray onto the sidewalk.
"Y- you're kiddin' me, right, Jack?" Smoker stood up, pained mirth still in his eyes. "Y'all seriously think that if we knew a way out of Hell, that we would still be here?" he nearly broke down into another laughing/coughing fit.
The samurai tried to sportively rub the sinner's… back? All he felt was a spine and a rib cage. "I suppose not. But still, there must be rumors? A dropped trail? A missing link? Please, anything can help me!"
Smoker dusted himself off, finally calmed down. "Sorry, pal, you were good for a laugh, but I ain't got no reason to stick my neck out for any of your 'Seven Samurai' bullshit."
The samurai blinked and looked around for the other six. "But there is only one of me."
Smoker leaned against the building, taking out another cigarette. "Whatever, Jack. Point is: you want to stick your nose into other demons' business looking for a door that ain't there? Then y'all are on your own."
The samurai lowered his head in defeat. He looked around at the strange city. "Very well," he bowed to the sinner. "Thank you for all of your help," and he turned to leave.
Smoker looked at the retreating form of the samurai, lighting another joint. "Hey!" he called out.
The samurai paused and turned back.
"Let me give you two pieces of advice," Smoker blew out a puff of smoke. "Don't you give any demon your real name. That gives them power over you."
The samurai nodded. That made sense. "And the other piece?"
"Steer clear of Cannibal Town," Smoker shrugged. "I know that part just sounds like common sense, but those fuckers haven't had real human flesh in a while. Y'all should keep an extra mile between you and them just to be sure."
The samurai eyes stared blankly, unsure how to respond. He decided to simply nod his head in understanding, then continue on his way.
Wooden sandals clacked against cement pavement. The samurai continued his way down the streets of Hell, eyes trained on all the sinners he came across. They were certainly bizarre-looking. Some looked almost human if not for a few key horns and fangs sticking out, others were an unholy mishmash of body-parts and animal features, and some just looked like inanimate objects given sentience. A simple samurai was truly a stranger in a strange land.
Thankfully, no one had given him any trouble yet. They all seemed rather distracted tearing one another apart. It was a disturbing sight, supposedly human-souls casually dismembering each other, but this was Hell.
The actions of these sinners were of no concern to the samurai. What was his concern was information- any possible leads on ways to escape Hell. The question was where to start looking. The samurai had traveled all over the world in his time on Earth. No matter where he went, the one place perfect for gathering information was the local tavern, bar, or watering hole. If he could just find one, he would find his lead.
The only trouble was that he had no idea where to look. All these garish buildings looked the same, with the only distinctions being bright signs made of gaudy colors spelling out titles he didn't understand. It seemed that he would have to ask one of the locals.
A feathered sinner was leaning against a streetlamp, looking slightly less pissed than all the other denizens on the street. That was a good a place as any. The samurai approached. "Um, excuse me-"
"Go fuck yourself," the bird sneered.
The samurai only paused briefly. "Would you by any chance know where one might refresh themselves?"
The sinner stared. "What?"
"Where can I buy a drink?" the samurai tried.
"A drink?" The sinner blinked. "Then why don't you fuckin'- there's a bar right behind you!"
The samurai turned around. The building behind him looked no different from any else on the street. He bowed to the sinner. "Thank you," and walked off.
The bird snorted. "Jackass."
The samurai walked up to the building and knocked on the metal door. It opened, and he was hit by a wave of alcoholic stench. But it was not nearly as disorientating as the pulsating music seemingly trying to drill directly into his brain. The samurai covered his ears and stumbled in through the doorway.
The inside was an assault on all senses. Multicolored lights flashed in his eyes constantly like a sick lightning storm. He stumbled as he nearly slipped on puddles of spilled alcohol with every step. And the music just kept getting exponentially louder. He wasn't even sure if it could be called music, it was just a constant beat getting louder and louder, trying to break his skull open.
He was knocked so off balance that he didn't even notice the large scaly sinner until it was too late.
"Hey!" The bipedal crocodile snarled, turning to the gnat that had dared to bump into him. "Watch where you're going!"
Normally, the samurai would apologize for mistake but until now he had never been this up close to a sinner. Seeing the human eyes behind a twisted malformed face was enough to stupor him into a silence.
The croc sneered and grabbed the front of the samurai's kimono. "What the hell are you staring at?!" the crocodile threw the samurai across the room.
The samurai crashed into a glass coffee table of drinks, sending alcohol and broken glass flying everywhere.
The samurai groaned and pushed himself up. He looked up to see the crocodile sinner sneering down at him along with many other sinners- presumably the ones whose drinks he just spilled.
"My apologies," the samurai got onto his knees and bowed his head. "I am new here, I did not mean to stare."
"You got some nerve," the croc growled. "Starin' at me like I'm some kinda freak show, while you look like some pretty boy," the sneer morphed into a cruel grin. "That skin of yours does look mighty pretty though, I think I'll just take some for myself." He slowly pulled out a machete from its sheath.
The samurai did not move. "Please, I do not wish to cause you any harm."
The croc guffawed. "Sure, THAT'S what's happening here," he raised his blade. "Now hold still so I can flay the skin off your hide!" he swung his weapon.
Time slowed to a crawl. The samurai's hand dashed to the sword at his side. In a flash, the sword rung free of its sheath and with one quick draw, the samurai slashed at the croc's weapon arm, leaving a massive gash and sending the machete flying.
"Gaarrgh!" The croc wailed out in pain, holding onto his damaged appendage. "It burning! It burns like…" his pained cries died down as understanding dawned on his face. His injury was second to his new discovery. His eyes drifted to the pristine white blade wielded by the samurai. "...angelic steel."
Silence took over the room, even the music seemed to hush. The moment was broken by the squeaks and scrapes of seat being pushed out and attendants standing up.
The samurai's eyes darted back and forth. The number of demons surrounding him had tripled in size. None of them looked annoyed like before, but instead their eyes held looks of greed and bloodlust. Some pulled out weapons of all shapes and sizes. Evidently, this bar served as a frequent spot for bounty hunters. The samurai gripped his sword tighter.
"Stay back," he commanded. He could not slay these creatures. They were human beings once. They may be corrupted, but they were already dead, they had suffered enough for one lifetime. "I do not wish for you to meet your ends, this day!"
"Shame," the croc sneered. "Cus, to get that pretty little piece in your hand, we'd gladly have you meet yours!"
They all charged. The samurai steeled himself. He thrust the pommel of his sword backwards right into the gut of a velociraptor-like sinner. He spun around and followed up with an open-palm strike to the jaw. One down.
A bear-like sinner swung a massive battleaxe at the samurai. The samurai swung his sword and swiftly chopped the axe blade off of its staff. Kick to diaphragm before the bear could recover.
Next came the crocodile from before. He forwent his machete in favor of swiping with his claws. The samurai deflected the swipes with his blade, a satisfying ringing of metal sounded with each clash.
The croc went in for a bite. The samurai unleashed a devastating front kick that knocked the croc's lower jaw right up into his snout. The force of the attack sent the crocodile flying back and crashing into the ground. He wouldn't be getting back up.
BANG
The noise nearly shattered the samurai's ear drums, yet he instinctively twitched his head to the left. Something whizzed past his cheek, slashing the skin and drawing blood. The samurai hissed in pain, his hand instinctively went to his wound. He turned around to see where the attack had come from.
A sinner was holding a very strange metal contraption with a smoking barrel. The sinner was joined by posses of sinner on both side, all of them holding similar contraptions of a variety of sizes and shapes- all the barrels trained on the samurai.
The samurai's eyes widened and he started running. The contraptions sprang to life in mini flashes of fire, launching projectiles near invisible to the naked eye. The ground behind the samurai was torn to pieces, the destruction hot on his heels.
To think that demons were gifted machines capable of launching projectiles faster than any bow and arrow. But the samurai was still faster. He pivoted his direction, charging right at the group of demons with sword drawn.
SLASH SLASH SLASH
The sinners opened their eyes, the samurai was no longer in front of them but behind them. They turned around and pulled their triggers but all their guns and weapons merely fell apart into metal confetti. They only stood in momentary confusion before they pulled out what knives, daggers, and brass knuckles they had on them and charged.
The next few minutes were a blur of flying fists and blades. Dodge, deflect, attack, dodge, dodge, punch, kick, deflect, deflect, kick, strike-
The samurai clenched his sword tighter and held it at the ready, he was beginning to lose his breath. But the sinners seemed to finally stop coming. He looked back and forth. No more demons were charging at him, nor were any standing menacingly or sizing him up. All laid on the floor unconscious save for the few demons who chose not to engage him and decided to just stick to their drinks.
"Hey!"
The samurai turned to see a rather large pig man sitting behind the bar counter. He was sweaty, dirty, and rather ticked off. "You gonna order something after you knocked out all my customers or what?"
The samurai coughed as he sheathed his sword. "My apologies, I do not have any currency on me."
The pig stared at him for a few seconds before turning to the unconscious sinner draped over the bar counter. The pig rummaged through the sinners pockets and pulled out a thick wallet before pushing the sinner off the counter. "Your tab's on him, now order something or get out."
The samurai apprehensively took a seat at a bar stool. "Hot water, please."
The pig stared for a few moments, waiting for a punchline. When none came, he sneered "Freak," and turned around.
"Y'all just come in here to beat people up? That your kink?" the pig grumbled as he looked for a kettle.
"... No." The samurai folded his hands within his robe. "I'm looking for information. I am new to these lands. I have many questions and little time. Tell me, who is your ruler? Where can I find him?"
The pig barked out a laugh as he slammed the kettle onto his mini-stove. "Lucifer? No one's seen that shit stain in centuries! The guy was a little crybaby hermit even before his wife left him!"
The samurai blinked. The king of the land of evil…was suffering marital problems? What an odd thought.
"You want to talk to someone in charge? Try your luck with one of the overlords," the pig watched the small flame spring to life. "They're the ones actually trying to control this literal hellhole."
"I see," the samurai nodded. "And, by any chance, do any of them know of a way out of Hell?"
"Hah!" the pig threw his head back. "One or two of them might actually have the balls to make such a claim, but odds are 10,000 to 1 that they're just sweet-talking ya into a deal to sell your soul."
"Hmm," the samurai scratched his chin. "What about you? Have you ever heard anything about a way to leave Hell? Rumors or hearsay, perhaps?"
The pig snorted. "Look, you want to go chasing fantasies, then why don't you shack up with the hotel bimbo?"
The samurai raised an eyebrow. "Hotel?"
The pig poured the steaming water into a small shot-sized cup. "Yeah, at least Lucifer was smart enough to leave us alone. Too bad his daughter didn't get his brains." he placed the cup in front of the samurai.
The samurai took the cup in his hands. "Lucifer has a daughter?"
"Dropped her on her head and everything," the pig snorted. "She's been preaching about her little 'passion project' non-stop. I wasn't born yesterday, sister! Hell's the end of road, and I'll probably end up eating my own ass before Heaven opens its gates to the freaks down here."
The samurai took a sip. The water somehow scolding hot and lukewarm at the same time. "She wishes to get sinners into Heaven?"
"Yeah, by 'rehabilitating' them or some shit," the pig said with air quotes. "It's bullshit, of course. Nobody ever rehabs, they just take longer breaks between relapses. Ain't nobody down here going to Heaven."
The samurai stared down at his reflection in his drink. A place meant to rehabilitate the demons of Hell? A commendable idea, if one with a slim chance of success. However, not one that aided him with his current goal.
"I have no interest in entering Heaven," the samurai explained. "Where my goals lie is getting back to the land of the living."
The pig's eyes widened. "Why?" he asked. "Because let me tell you something, even your chances of that Hotel saving your soul are better."
"I do not care," the samurai answered. "Do you know anything or not?"
The pig shrugged. "You're just gonna end up back down here no matter what- or worse. You got unfinished business up there or what?"
The samurai's eyes narrowed. "More than you could possibly imagine."
"Alright," the pig shrugged. "Look, if it's as simple as offing the guy that killed you, then you're actually in luck."
The samurai's eyes widened and he leaned forward.
"Every few weeks or so, I overhear some sinners talking about some imps." the pig lowered his voice.
"Imps?" The samurai questioned.
"Yeah, apparently the little buggers have established quite the little racket in the Pride Ring. They say that for the right price, they can actually cross over into the living world and put a bullet in whoever you want."
The samurai's eyes widened. "An assassin's guild," he growled.
"Eh, if you wanna call it that. I call it a couple of dumb fucks trying to play hitman." The pig rolled his eyes. "But who knows? I've actually served a couple sinners who say that they were killed by those same imps up top."
"They kill those in the living world," the samurai mused. "How are they able to travel to the mortal realm?"
"Man, fuck if I know," The pig snorts. "Best I overheard is that one of the imps has a Goetia sugar daddy or some shit. Down here, you learn not to ask too many questions. A lesson I'm praying you learn in the next 30 seconds."
It seems that was as far the samurai's questions could take him. Could these imps have a way of sending him home? He did not like the sound of negotiating with assassins. He met many hired killers on his travels- all were nothing but thugs and sociopath's willing to harm the wicked and innocent alike for the right price. But as of now, they were his only lead out of this cursed place.
The samurai stood up, he bowed to the pig. "Thank you for the information and water."
"You can thank me by getting out of here and never coming back," the pig growled.
The samurai nodded and made his way towards the exit, stepping over the still-unconscious bodies. His hand reached for the door.
"Hey!"
The samurai paused and turned back.
"What's your name?" the pig asked.
"Pardon?" The samurai responded.
"Gimme your name so I have something to write on my 'BANNED' list other than 'crazy samurai nut job," the pig called out.
The samurai was about to answer, but held his tongue.
Don't you give any demon your real name. That gives them power over you.
The samurai recalled his discussion with Smoker. He was not to give his name to any demon. But then what should he be called? Until he found his way home, he would need a new name- a new identity. He combed his mind for any possible alias to rely on. The one that stuck out the most, was one he earned recently.
"Jack…" the samurai tested the name on his lips. He looked up to the pig. "They call me Jack."
And so Jack swung open the doors and marched out back into Hell.
So… my first M-rated fic… should this even be M-rated? I feel like it has to be given the original cartoons, but I try to avoid writing that stuff. I suppose maybe this could be considered a HARD T. Either way, I'm not sure if I want my mom to read this.
So… yeah, I've actually wanted to make a Hazbin/Helluva fanfic for quite a while now. The shows are like a weird guilty pleasure for me, but not too guilty because the animation, songs, and character designs are just so amazing! I tried out this concept with a few different characters, mostly prominent villains for other series but for some reason this is the one that really clicked and got me writing all the way to the end. And who knows? Nobody says I can't sneak in some of those original ideas into this one. Be a good way of keeping things fresh. Review if you have thoughts on that.
Thanks for reading!