Disclaimer: I do not own Disgaea or Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. Please don't sue me.
A/N: Hey, everybody! For all you Dr. Horrible fans out there who happen to play Disgaea—if there are any at all—I dedicate this crazy little fic to all of you. For those of you who haven't seen Dr. Horrible yet, what are you waiting for?!? Go watch it as soon as freaking possible. It's your loss if you don't.
But fear not! Even if you haven't watched Dr. Horrible, you will be able to read and enjoy this story—that is, if you don't mind all the spoilers. I guarantee it. So get your popcorn and soda ready, folks! The show is about to start!
PRoLoGuE: SeTTiNg ThE STaGe
Laharl paced around his throne, looking more pissed off than anyone could have remembered. Not that this was such a phenomenon—the young demon king was breaking his own records every other day.
"God dammit…!" he muttered, crimson eyes wide and filled with rage. "Again and again they crank out more games and I'm not even a freaking cameo this time! What am I, chop liver?!?"
Standing nervously at attention were Laharl's more loyal vassals—though that certainly wasn't saying much considering all the flunkies who worked at the castle. Etna and Flonne eyed the overlord as though he would explode. And the sad part was that their dread wasn't so strange at all.
"Laharl?" the fallen angel asked, raising a tentative hand in the air as though waiting to be called on in class.
"What the hell do you want now, love freak!? Can't you see I'm busy ranting?"
"Then why are you interrupting me?" he growled.
"Well…I just thought that…well…maybe…maybe there's a reason why they didn't want you in their game…"
Laharl turned towards Flonne slowly, his face completely inscrutable. He started stalking closer and closer to her and with a nervous squeak the fallen angel began backing away. Within seconds he had her leaning against the castle wall—a rather compromising position except for the fact that Laharl was so furious.
"All right, Flonne," he said in a low voice. "I'll bite. Why do you think that they didn't hire me this time around…?"
Whatever Flonne had been about to say became wiped away from her thoughts as Laharl shot her a cold, menacing glare. It made her freeze up.
"Well, what?" he pressed her.
"Um…well…I mean to say…"
"Oh, for the love of God, Flonne, spit it out," Etna sighed, becoming irritated by her aimless rambling.
Flonne shut her eyes, clearly expecting the worst.
"You're so much stronger and cooler than the other characters!" she blurted. "They wanted to give other people a chance!!!"
The suggestion was so ridiculous that Laharl actually stepped back and stared at her. "What? That's your lousy excuse?! Not that it isn't true, but…" he trailed off in a series of unintelligible mumblings. Within moments he began pacing again.
Etna walked over to Flonne.
"That wasn't what you were going to say, was it?" she whispered in her ear.
The fallen angel shook her head sadly.
"No. But how can I tell him that the real reason was because they were tired of him veering away from the script? Laharl never likes taking orders from other people, especially director types. No one is willing to work with him anymore…"
"Except you," Etna added with a smirk.
Flonne turned red and said nothing.
"Anyway, it's not like he's not stealing screen time every chance he gets. The Prince can't be trusted not to pull a stunt like that."
"Then why not just make him the main character?" Flonne asked, innocently enough.
Etna gave her a withering look. "Flonne, why don't you think long and hard about it? I'm sure you'll find a reason or five…not counting the stolen screen time, I mean…heeeey!" she said slowly, her eyes flooding with epiphany. "PRINCE!" she bellowed.
Laharl was so startled by her cry that he almost tripped.
"Oh, for the love of crap!" he snapped. "What is it now?!?"
"If those stupid Nippon Ichi executives won't put you in their next game, why not just put in a bill at the Dark Assembly to make you into a main character?"
"Etna," said Flonne quietly. "You know that those senators have gotten stronger…last time we forced a bill, we barely escaped with our lives!"
"I don't feel like kicking the crap out of them, right now, anyway," Laharl replied, folding his arms behind his head in a tired manner.
"Oh, come on!" Etna huffed, planting her hands on her hips. "You know that the real reason you won't fight them is because you've gotten lazy! Face it! You've lost your touch as an Overlord! No wonder Nippon Ichi won't hire you anymore!"
"Shut it, Etna!"
"In any case," Flonne interjected, ending the argument before it could officially begin, "we need to find ourselves some work, otherwise we won't be able to afford the prinnies' next pay day."
"Well, you two do," Etna replied, twirling her finger through one of her pig-tails. "I already have a job with plenty of potential…"
Laharl and Flonne both looked at her.
"Really?" said the overlord with a dark gleam in his eyes. "What is it?"
"Oh, no!" she snapped. "I'm not letting you barge in and screw things up for me! There's no way I'm telling you! This is some serious cash, we're talking about!"
"Wait, if you're making money, then why the hell do I have to get a job?" Laharl demanded haughtily. "You can pay the prinnies!"
"Nope," said Etna. "That's my own personal funds, Prince. It says quite clearly in my contract that you can't touch those. If you do, I leave again."
He shuddered. He didn't need anyone to remind him of the hell he had found himself in the last time Etna had quit in a fit of pique. He couldn't even look at canned tuna without feeling nauseous—it had become yet another weakness of his. The only way he had gotten her to come back was by signing a contract…a very degrading contract, indeed.
But at least he had gotten a chef out of it.
"And if I leave, Hanako comes with me," Etna added, clearly seeing where his thoughts were going.
"God, dammit! Fine! Don't tell me!"
Laharl wheeled around angrily, facing Flonne.
"Well, don't just stand there! Use that thick skull of yours and figure out what we should do!"
"Laharl is so mean," Flonne sighed. "I just wish he'd just go back to stealing screen time…he was much less snappish then."
"That's because he was plotting something dastardly," Etna replied. "But your whining gave me an idea, Flonne."
"It did!?" Laharl echoed in disbelief. "How?"
"Well, think about it," she said slowly. "If you can't get some screen time, why not just…make some?"
"Make some…?" he muttered thoughtfully. "You can't just make screen time…can you?"
"Sure," said Etna, flashing her trade-mark evil smile. "All we need to do is kidnap one of those big-shot producers down on Earth and make him create a production for us. And you can be the star of the show!"
"But how is this going to get me screen time? I don't want some lousy cop-out RPG. I want a major role in the real deal…"
"And you'll get it," said Etna, mollifying him. "If this does well enough, you'll become so popular that Nippon Ichi will have no choice but to make you the star of their next game!"
"Hmm…hmmm, ha…HAAAAA ha ha ha!!!! I like it! It's so evil…so…so sneaky and underhanded!" Brandishing a finger at Etna and Flonne, he barked, "Go find this producer and bring him here immediately! And I don't want to hear any excuses if you mess this up!"
Etna bowed, forcing Flonne down with her hand on her back at the same time. "Thanks, Prince! Let's go, Flonne."
Before the fallen angel could so much as protest, she found herself being bodily dragged from the room and forced into a space-ship set on auto-pilot to Earth.
Hours later, the two girls were loitering on a street corner, wearing black trench coats and hats to hide their ears, wings, and tails. They were standing outside of a large restaurant in New York City. Flonne glanced wistfully over towards the entrance.
"Oh…" she sighed. "I'm so hungry. Maybe we could…"
"No way," said Etna curtly. "We only have one chance at this, so we can't screw this up."
"It can't hurt to get something to eat…" Flonne mumbled.
"Oh, quit complaining! Look, there he is!"
They both turned towards the restaurant, as though noticing it for the first time. A man was walking through the arch-way and entering the lobby. Peering through the window, the girls were able to confirm that it was, indeed, their target.
"Is that him?" Flonne asked.
"Yup," Etna replied. "That's him. Josh Wheedon—producer of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He's had dealings with demons in the past, so this shouldn't be a difficult job for him."
"Oh," said the fallen angel thoughtfully. After a moment of contemplation, she added, "He's kind of cute."
"Don't let the Prince hear you say that, Flonne. We need this guy alive or he's useless to us. Now let's nab him!"
"Oh, boy!" Flonne whispered excitedly, holding up a coil of rope. "This will be fun! I can practice my love knots…!"
Etna gave her a weirded out look. "Um…yeah. Sure."
"Let's get him!"
The door to the restaurant was pushed open, but Josh Wheedon didn't pay it any mind. He was more concerned with the ridiculous amount of time it was taking for the hostess to find him a table. God, what was the use of being a famous producer if it couldn't get you a decent table in New York City?
Suddenly, Josh Wheedon felt something coiling around his neck, closing tightly around his windpipe. Choking, he grabbed the rope with his bare hands, trying to pry it loose. In the struggle, a girl with red pigtails pressed a damp cloth against his face, and without thinking, Josh Wheedon breathed in the intoxicating fumes.
Aw, crud…! he thought as his world began to spin. Within seconds, the producer had slumped over, unconscious.
The last thing he heard was a curiously girlish voice exclaiming, "Mission accomplished! Let's go find Laharl!"
"Oh, Prince! We're back!"
Laharl looked up from his PSP, annoyed. "Did you get him? That producer guy?"
"Because if you didn't, you're both dead meat for making me end my turn early…!"
"Playing the new Disgaea port, Laharl?" Flonne asked, stepping into the room. She was followed by Etna and several of the prinnies, who were carrying the limp form of a human man. At the sight of their prize, Laharl reluctantly unknit his brow, placing his PSP on the table next to his throne.
"Yeah, but it wasn't anything exciting. Who's he?" he asked, pointing at the man.
"Oh, him? Etna says his name is Josh Wheedon."
"The director of Buffy the Vampire Slayer?" Laharl blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Um…yeah…" Flonne replied, looking a little confused. "How did you know that?"
The overlord turned a violent shade of red. "None of your freaking business, love freak! I just happened to see his name in a…in a newspaper! Yeah, that's it…"
Etna leaned in to whisper in her ear. "He doesn't want to admit that he watches the show."
"I heard that!" Laharl snarled. "I do not watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you peon! Now unbind him! Quickly!"
"Whatever, Prince," Etna sighed. "Prinnies!"
The little peg-legged sinners snapped to attention, saluting the demon girl. "Sir!"
She glared coldly at them all, causing them to shudder collectively.
"That's better. Unbind the prisoner!"
"Dood, yes, dood!"
The prinnies all swarmed around the body of Josh Wheedon, who lied there oblivious to their administrations. Prinny after prinny pulled out a sharp kitchen knife and began sawing away at the cords that bound his arms and legs together. They worked busily for several minutes while Laharl and company watched.
"Why is this taking so long?" he asked petulantly.
"Well, Flonne went a little crazy with her love knots," Etna said, burying her face in her palm. The fallen angel giggled to herself, almost unabashed except for the blush that was creeping across her face. Laharl eyed her warily.
"Why are you so cheerful, love freak?"
"It's been so long since we last had a guest," she replied with a smile. "Especially a celebrity!"
"Hmmph…so what?" said the overlord. "You're married to a freaking celebrity, remember?"
Flonne gave him a blank look. "I am?"
"Oh, for the love of…ME, you twit! ME!!!"
"Ooooh, yeah!" she said vaguely.
"What do you mean, oh, yeah?! How could you forget being married? And to ME of all people??? I'm an overlord, for crying out loud!"
"Mmm, hmmm…" she mumbled, not really paying much attention.
Now, Flonne wasn't trying to make Laharl jealous; but she was doing a damn good job of it regardless of her intentions. He was fuming quietly as she gazed down at the producer, looking way too interested in her quarry. Unconsciously, he reached down into the little pocket universe he secretly kept sewn in his cape—if that's what that it was—and groped around for the hilt of his Cosmic Blade…
Meanwhile, the man named Josh Wheedon was starting to awaken from his chemically-induced slumber. He felt strange, smooth flipper-things moving all over his body and twitched uneasily—inadvertently conjuring the mental image of a war veteran stroking his face with a bloodied stump of an arm. His eyelids flickered open.
Hovering over him were about twenty penguin things clutching knives. Thus, it was no surprise to anyone when Josh Wheedon suddenly emptied his lungs with a blood-curdling scream.
"Ah, he's awake," said Laharl. "Move away from him, prinnies! I want to take a good look at our…guest."
The servants obeyed without question, thinking wistfully of their upcoming paychecks.
Josh Wheedon sat on the floor, blinking bewilderedly up at his captor. To his numb shock, his kidnapper was a teenage boy with blue hair with ridiculous-looking antennae, glaringly red eyes, and pointed ears; dressed in the weirdest costume he had ever seen—a pair of red-jean shorts, matching cape, and sneakers. He was a bit confused about why he wasn't wearing a shirt—but then it occurred to him that this boy didn't need one. Laharl had an impressively lean, yet muscular frame.
Besides, it was as hot as hell in the room—pun intended.
Before he could process this information, however, Josh wheedon found himself staring point-blank at the butt-end of a sharp, dangerous-looking sword. It dangled suggestively under his throat, causing cold shivers to run up his spine.
"Now that I've got your attention," Laharl continued, as though he had not noticed the look of terror on the producer's face, "you're going to write us a script."
"What, is there an echo in here? Yes, a script!"
"And who the hell are you?" Josh Wheedon yelped, noticing to his horror that the blade was now tickling his chin in almost eager anticipation for the possible gore that may or may not ensue. Laharl folded his arms, a smug smile on his face.
"I am Laharl, King of the Netherworld! And you, you pathetic little worm, work for me now."
"Never heard of you."
That took the wind right out of his sails. "W-what? What do you mean you never heard of me? I'm the coolest, most powerful main character who ever existed in Disgaea!"
"The what now?"
Laharl sighed. "Etna, where did you find this putz? The slums of Shinjuku?"
"Actually," Flonne chimed in, "we found him in New York City. Thursday tracked him there. It's in America."
"America, hmmm?" the overlord mused. "The game must not have hit the market there, yet…"
"Well, no. Disgaea just has a limited audience there, that's all."
Laharl sniffed in disdain and turned back to his prisoner.
"In any case, Disgaea is one of the greatest video-game RPG's ever created. And I'm the starring role!"
"Well, you were until the other Disgaea games came out, and you were bumped down to a mere cameo role," Etna added dryly.
"Shut up! That's about to change, right here, right now!"
"Wait," said Josh Wheedon slowly. "You guys are characters out of some Japanese video game, and you want me to write a script…why?"
"Because if you don't, I'll chop your freaking head off!!!" Laharl snarled, tightening his grip on his Cosmic Blade. "You're not in the position to be asking questions, so just shut up and do as you're told, or else!!!"
"Laharl!" Flonne cried. "Don't threaten him! That's not nice!"
"Oh, can it! If we don't star in something good soon, there's no way we can get out of our cameo roles, and you know it!" Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Why do you care if I rough him up? Besides you being such a love freak, I mean."
The fallen angel pouted. "I can't stand being around you when you get like this…" she said quietly. "You're cruel and unreasonable! Why can't you just be gentle for a change? Where's your sensitivity?"
Laharl merely glowered at her. "I don't have any. You know that."
Flonne shook her head. "I know for a fact that you have love in your heart. I've seen it with my own two eyes—but I just don't understand why you have to suppress it. Why do you think you have to be vicious to be respected?"
Josh Wheedon watched the two snipe at each other for a good two minutes before he tentatively turned to Etna. "Are they always like this?"
"Pretty much," she replied cooly, leaning against her spear with a bored expression on her face. "It gets tiresome sometimes—I mean, they're married, but they hardly ever do anything couple-like…except argue. Usually, it takes a freaking near-death experience to get them in a romantic mood. But that's just because Laharl is such a hard-ass."
"Well, it's giving me a pretty good idea for a potential script, if you're interested. I mean, I figure that you guys won't let me leave until I write one."
"I'm listening," said Etna, smirking.
Josh Wheedon returned the smile. "I think you're going to enjoy this, Miss…?"
"Etna," she told him, holding out her hand. The producer caught it and shook it genially.
"Duh, I know. I was the one who kidnapped you, genius,"
"Oh," he deflated. "Right…"
"Enough small talk," Etna pressed him. "Tell me more about this idea of yours, Mr. Wheedon."
A few hours later, Laharl and Flonne had finally managed to bicker until they were physically exhausted. They were now sulking at opposite ends of the castle, both vowing that they wouldn't give each other so much as another thought and failing miserably. The overlord in particular was vehement in his promise.
"Stupid love freak…why did I even marry her, anyway? Such a freaking…" mumble, mumble, "Naïve bitch…I'll show her…"
"Why don't you quit talking to yourself, Prince," Etna asked tiredly, appearing in the doorway with a rolled up booklet in her hands. "It's not a good omen, you know."
"What the hell do you want, Etna?"
"Um, hello? Your evil plan?" she prompted, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "That whole thing about making screen time?"
"Oh, yeah," Laharl sighed, running his hand through his hair. "That love freak made me forget. What about it?"
Etna rolled her eyes. "The script is done. Mr. Wheedon wants to explain the premise behind his story for you before we let him go."
"Let him go!? Are you out of your mind? What if he wrote us a piece of crap? That producer isn't leaving until I have my name in the credits of the next Disgaea game. Understand?"
"Good. Now lead me to him!"
"Whatever you say, you royal jackass…"
"What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Wheedon?" Flonne asked as the producer led her back into the throne room. As expected, it was completely empty. She turned to the human with curiosity evident in her sparkling ruby eyes.
"I wanted to hear your singing voice," he told her, bringing her to stand in the light. Silently, he admired her lean figure and hopeful expression. No doubt about it, she was perfect for this.
Flonne's face lit up in delight. "You do?" Then her face fell. "I can't…" she said sadly. "I can't hold a note to save my life. Etna told me so."
"Well, we can fix that," Josh Wheedon assured her. "With a little practice and hard work, you can be a regular prima donna!"
"Isn't that a ballerina?"
"Do you want to learn to sing, or not?" he said in a flat voice.
"Oh, okay!" she replied hastily. "Sorry! Where do we begin?"
"Later," the producer replied. "I've brought in a professional vocal coach to assist you with your training, but it'll take him a while to travel all the way to the Netherworld. Right now we're going to go over the script. We're just waiting for Laharl and Etna to get here, along with the other actors."
Before Josh Wheedon could answer her, a very irate overlord stormed into the room. "All right, where is he?" Laharl demanded, crimson eyes sweeping the domain until he caught sight of the human talking to Flonne—alone—in his throne room. Furiously, he pointed to the fallen angel. "What is she doing here?"
"She's my leading lady."
Flonne gave Josh Wheedon a dumbfounded look. "I am?" she gasped. "Oh, thank you so much! I'll…I'll do my best, I promise, I will—"
The producer held up his hands. "Calm down, Flonne. I've got to tell the others their roles."
The fallen angel blushed, but said nothing. She was too happy for words. I never got to star in anything but Disgaea before…this will be so exciting!
"Hey, is there a Mr. Josh Wheedon in here, Prince?" Zommie the zombie called from the hallway. Within seconds, he, Manty the manticore, and Dratti the dragon all appeared inside the throne room. Each vassal held a script in their hands.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Laharl muttered. "They're in this too?"
"Oh, don't worry, your highness," Josh Wheedon interjected. "I already promised under the threat of bodily harm that you would get the starring role. They're just the chorus."
"Chorus," the overlord echoed. "What the hell do we need a chorus for?"
"This is a weird RPG," Flonne added quietly.
"Well, that's because it isn't an RPG," the producer explained. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you all to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog! A musical," he added.
"WHAT?!?" Laharl screamed. "I threaten to chop your head off, and the best you can give me is some half-assed musical??? No freaking way am I singing!!!"
"Sorry, Prince," said Etna. "I already took a number of my own minions in with me and spent hours in the script's item world perfecting it. There's no way I'm letting you reject it based on its title."
"I still refuse!"
"You can refuse all you want," said Flonne cuttingly. She was still annoyed about their argument before. "You don't have to be the main character if you don't want to. Mr. Wheedon can easily find someone to take your place."
Laharl glared at her. "Well, this production is going to suck anyway—especially if you're going to be the leading lady."
"Don't be rude," Etna told Laharl. "She's not going to want to kiss and make up later if you insult her too much."
"Like anyone would want to kiss her," the overlord muttered loud enough for her to hear.
"For your information, I've kissed way better men than you," Flonne retorted hotly, flaring up at Laharl's insult.
That certainly caught his attention.
"Hmmph!" Flonne turned her back on Laharl. But he wasn't going to let something like that distract him—not after a comment like that. He stalked over to her and turned her around to face him.
"Who?" he demanded.
"Who, what?" the fallen angel asked in faux innocence.
"Who the hell would want to lock lips with a love freak like you?"
"You mean besides you?" Flonne wanted to know. "Lots of people."
"I want names."
"You're not getting any."
"That's what she said," Etna muttered, sensing another argument coming on. Though she was interested to see how long Flonne could hold up this bluff—if it was a bluff. To be honest, Etna had no way of knowing whether or not the fallen angel was telling the truth—though usually she was a horrible liar.
Still, right now she sounded pretty convincing. And it was making Laharl as angry as all hell.
"Well, let me bring you up to speed, you moron," he snapped. "I wouldn't go near you with a ten foot pole! And no one else with half a brain would either!"
Flonne flushed a blotchy shade of red—he had struck a nerve.
"You're calling yourself a moron, you know," she stammered, feeling hurt and furious.
"I just got through telling you that I wouldn't want to kiss you, dumb-ass. In fact, I would willingly give up my throne and live amongst large-breasted cheerleaders before I'd kiss you."
"Well, considering that you've kissed me in the past, you must be pretty hard off, aren't you, Laharl!"
"You have kissed her, you know," Etna commented.
Laharl rounded on her. "Only because I felt sorry for her! She's pathetic!"
Etna frowned at him—he had gone too far. "Hey, now, Prince…"
"Can we please get back to the script?" Josh Wheedon pleaded, feeling as if the conversation had taking a u-turn away from business—which, of course, it had. Before either of the them could comment further, the producer frantically began handing out sheets of paper.
"What's this?" Laharl asked, looking at the paper curiously. "A cast list…and a schedule!?"
"Yes," said Josh Wheedon, smiling nervously. "I assume you want this production off the ground within a few days, so I graciously created a…"
"You just want this thing done and over with so you can get the hell out of here," Laharl accused him.
"Well, yes," he replied weakly, "I do."
"I hate to burst your bubble, genius, but unless this script does what I want it to do, you're going to be a prisoner for the rest of your life…or until I get a script that doesn't suck. Capiche?"
"Understandable," Josh Wheedon muttered. "Flonne, I have a special schedule for you. I worked in times for you to meet with your vocal coach."
Flonne, who looked miserable, merely nodded.
"Vocal coach?" Laharl enquired.
"Yes. I thought that since Flonne was the leading lady, she would require more private sessions considering that she's had no musical experience."
"Does anyone else get a vocal coach?" Dratti asked calmly.
"As of right now, only Flonne is getting private lessons. Everyone else has scheduled times to meet and practice the songs, but unless they really feel that they need it, then no."
Laharl scowled. "I hope you got a vocal coach who isn't migraine-prone. Ten minutes into Flonne's session and he'll quit."
"Oh, shut up, Prince," Etna snapped. "You're really being pissy and it's getting annoying!"
"Yeah," Flonne sniffed. Josh Wheedon patted her on the shoulder.
"Cheer up, Flonne. You'll be great."
Laharl merely turned away in disdain. "Whatever. Let's get this show on the road."
A/N: And there you go. Laharl's mad because he was denied main character rights in Disgaea…again. So he's taking it out on Flonne. However, it is now revealed that they will be starring together in Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog! Will romance blossom between them during the show?
And wait until you see who gets to play Captain Hammer, Corporate Tool…!
Thanks for reading. Please review!