When he imagined hell it came as no surprise that the first image to appear in his mind was of flames. Of burning pyres, scorched rock, and hideous demons wielding pitchforks to plague the damned boiling in pits of flame. Or, at times, he would imagine the deep crypts of torment described in Dante's Inferno; a book he read so very long ago. The nine circles of hell, all designed to house the damned souls based upon their personal sin.

Preposterous. Such a concept had never bothered him, despite how amusing it was to consider at times. No, there was no god that would judge souls upon death, and there was no purgatory for a resting soul. Life simply snuffed itself out, like a candle squeezed betwixt fingers on a cold night. Existing, and then fading away- to rest peacefully in an eternal slumber, a tranquil crescendo to a long life.

If there truly was an afterlife, then it would be nothing more than a grave. An abode for souls detached from punishment or reward.

There was no such thing for Kira Yoshikage.

What had that girl said? It would be somewhere he would not be able to rest in peace.

She had not been wrong.

For Kira Yoshikage, fate had seen fit to damn him with his own personal hell. Those ghostly hands had broken him down, both he and his stand, and stripped him of his humanity. His skin had been flayed off as he was dragged to the far corners of the universe, space thinning out until he felt as though he were being squeezed through a pinprick sized filament. Then they remodeled him back together and broke him all over again as he was brutally dragged into the truest hell imaginable.

The last thing he saw was her back turned to him, not even acknowledging his undoing. The peaceful buildings shrank into meaningless dots as he was forcefully stripped from his home.

When he finally reached his destination, or when the things finally saw fit to leave him, he was in the single most hateful place imaginable. It was as indescribable as it was awful.

In the beginning it was a void; blank darkness stretching as far as the eye could see with only the shattered remains of his stand to keep him company. Then, when he believed that this would be his punishment- to float in an unthinking unfeeling void for all eternity, it shattered. The blackness split open with an eardrum shattering shriek, an onslaught of colors exploding from the cracks as reality itself was rent to pieces before his very eyes.

His heart thudded maddeningly, his ears bled, and he could not tear his bloodshot eyes away from the horrible spectacle. The colors and shapes warped at an unthinkable tempo, the sheer fluctuations tossing him around like a ship upon a stormy sea. The assault of colors, bright enough to singe his very skin and tear away at his psyche made him beg to seal his eyes; to press his fingers into the sockets of his skull and crush his eyes into pulp; anything to escape that kaleidoscope of undulating his fingers had long since been shattered into nebulous space dust, and his eyelids were too thin to ward off the light.

Coupled with it was that noise… that awful noise. Like nails on chalkboard, like rust on flesh, shattering glass, screaming torture victims; the noise was layered upon itself to be as soul crushingly loud as possible. At times it would shriek out with the pulsations rippling through the void, but at other times it would be off tempo; the lights would flare, and seconds later the screams would cry- a system that left him constantly on edge. He long since stopped trying to scream into the void to vent his terror and agony, it would only scream back at him.

Then, at times, it would cease. The coils of eldritch color would seep back into the cracks in the void, the noises would peter off into blank silence, and it all would return to its calm state. However, he felt no relief when this happened. He knew this was only a temporary refractory period. It would last long enough to lull him into a false sense of security, then the colors would return to shatter him just when he found peace. On and on, the process would repeat.

This was a special hell designed solely for Kira Yoshikage. The man who simply wanted to live a peaceful life, no matter the cost. Now, in the afterlife, he exists in a realm where it is simply impossible to find peace.

Yes. If hell existed, then Kira Yoshikage had certainly found it.

Kira Yoshikage collapsed to his knees. His haggard breaths echoed out in the silent blackness, each one more labored than the last. Sweat caked his forehead as he leaned forward to brace himself with his hands, cough after heave leaving his dry throat.

He was lucky, he had a floor this time. A reflective one, to stare into his tired eyes. In all the years of his incarceration, he had not aged a day. Around him, the shattered remains of Killer Queen floated tauntingly, his partner completely unresponsive yet still close by. It comforted him, even if only slightly.

Kira allowed himself to crumple to the floor, weakly panting as he rubbed at his eyes with the hands that had come back to him on this cycle. His suit bunched up, and his blonde locks fells unceremoniously to drape over his forehead. Any sign of the once handsome salaryman was gone; in his place was the broken shell of a spiteful spirit.

There was a time when he begged to be released, where he recanted his sins and pleaded for an end; that time had passed many years ago- now he only rested, and let his mind wander.

Inevitably, he thought of those brats. The conductors of his end. Where had it all gone wrong...? It was easy to blame Hayato. The son of the man whose face he stole. That nosy brat had always known something was off, the mask of Kosaku Kawajiri did nothing to shield his identity. One way or another, Hayato dragged him back into the light- and that damnable Joestar was there waiting for him.

But Hayato had not been the source of his downfall. Nor was Shigechi Yangu, the unremarkable bastard that stole his sandwich bag- the one who he was so sure could disappear without a single fuss. No, his great demise dated all the way back to one of his first victims; Reimi Sugimoto. The moment he took her life the clock had begun to slowly tick toward his doom; she was his first mistake, a soul that never truly left and spent 15 long years plotting his fall.

His father had even warned him of the possibility of lost souls roaming the streets of Morioh, but he still had never considered the possibility of paying retribution to one of his 'girlfriends'.

It was pointless pondering. Bites the Dust was unusable, he could not change the past anymore, and likely ever again. Even still, he did take pleasure in imagining the many ways he would exact his revenge if he ever left this hole.

However… his mind could not rest. He attempted to find solace in the momentary peace, yet something kept dragging his mind back to the front- as if something was calling for his attention.

Something was different.

It was a small, almost imperceptible change. But he felt it. With his face pressed against the invisible floor, he felt the vibrations. Though, calling them vibrations was dishonest. It felt more like something was moving just beneath the surface of this plane, coasting just beneath the skin of the fingertips pressed into the floor. He could only liken it to lying flat on a moving surface without actually going anywhere; the ground shifting like a carpet being pulled out from under him.

In fact, the very air was under the same pressure. As if some unseen force were slowly dragging this reality to a focal point. His blue eyes blinked in confusion as he haggardly forced himself up on his elbow, glancing around warily for some new awful punishment.

Movement caught his attention and swiftly he turned to the pinkish shards of Killer Queen. He watched with bated breath as the shards vibrated ever so slightly, trembling in the open space.

He didn't know what was happening, but his heart thudded with sheer terror as he reached out desperately, "K-Killer Queen!" He wheezed.

Then, without any warning, the remnants of his Stand were under motion. The pieces suddenly darted out into the vast unknown, a powerful force grabbing hold of them and whisking them away. The further they flew the more the murderer felt his very being tugged, and with a gasp of pure agony he felt something snap.

A deep, lonely hollowness filled him. A cavernous hole remaining where something else once was. His shaking fingers pressed frantically against his chest; his manic fingers flying as he tried to press in on the vacancy he felt. His blue eyes shot up wide and terrified, and with less grace than a toddler he stumbled to his feet. Kira desperately went to give chase, but only succeeded in roughly collapsing back down when the floor shifted again.

Now he was being dragged. It was like he was a fly trapped in a vacuum; his entire essence was being drained into one invisible point. He desperately fought against the tide with clawed hands and heels pressed in, but it was pointless. There was nothing to grip, and as his tie lifted from the pulling force, he found himself giving in.

Not because of his broken spirit, or his lack of will, but rather because of a singular sight. There, far in the distance and growing larger with each passing moment, was a light. Not an intrusive light like those of the cycles, not one that seared his eyes or burned his mind. But a soft, gentle light. Like the flicker of a candle, or the peaking of the sunrise over a hill.

His mind was so taken with the almost alien sight, that all strength left him. For just a fleeting moment he felt peace, and he wanted to feel it again. Calmly, almost reverently, the punished man pushed himself to his knees and spread out his arms. Gently his eyes shut- a final noticeably softer breath leaving his throat.

As the void was eaten away and the light consumed the damned serial killer, disintegrating him into his base atoms, the universe spiraled into its end.

Elsewhere...

"Easy- Easy! Its over! You did it! If you grip his arm any harder you'll break it!" The Doctor shouted, trying to calm the woman as his aide tended to the other far more pressing matter. The heavily breathing woman locked her blood-red eyes on him, wild with pain and exhaustion, before she mutely nodded.

The blonde man at her side sighed when she slowly released his bruising arm. He gave the doctor a grateful nod, but still moved to tenderly grip his wife's hand. "There we go... You did it, hon. That wasn't so bad was it?"

The doctor pressed a cool rag against her forehead and made sure the equipment was steady before leaving the two's side. His aide gave a worried call to him, the intense sobbing coming from her arms making him hasten his stride to go assist her.

The black-haired woman glared at the man before collapsing back into the plush pillows, "Tai... I just gave birth to two of your children. I… am not in the mood for your jokes…" Her words were faintly weak, tinged with the exhaustion that the past hours had accumulated.

Yes, it had been a long few hours. Nobody had told Tai just how long an undertaking this would be, and he had paid for it with many unsuccessful attempts at rest. The fact that his wife had been at the helm for these long hours only reinforced just how amazing she truly was. Even more so when he took into consideration that she had reared two children.

There had been no ultrasound. Tai had claimed he preferred it remain a secret, something that his wife grudgingly allowed. The second child was a complete surprise to both of them, and it had been a hard task for her- much harder than the first.

But… Twins! He was all giddy inside just thinking it!

Tai chuckled softly and nodded, "I know, I know. My bad. I'm just… So happy." His sappy words made his wife look away irritably, but even she couldn't hide her smile.

"I don't know… One of you is more than enough already. I can't imagine having to deal with three of you…Scary..."

"Very funny. But with my luck both of them are gonna end up like you. Now that's scary." She scoffed, but didn't retort that. Tai looked back over to the similarly exhausted doctor, who was busy checking on his aide and procuring a couple small blankets. "How… How are they doc?"

The doctor, still completely obscured with his medical mask and goggles, gave them a thumbs-up as he pushed some of his equipment away to make more space in the room. "It looks like they're doing fine. They certainly didn't make it any easier for us- I think you're going to have your hands full for a long time with these ones."

The bedridden woman gave her own weak laugh, "I would have it no other way…"

"What did we get, doc?" Tai asked, making sure to wipe off some of the sweat on his wife.

"Well…" Finally the doctor pulled a loop of his mask off his ear, allowing him to speak more clearly to the two, "Our first born was male, and your second is a girl. Here…" Turning to his aide, he gently took one of the bundles before walking back over to the bed.

Pressing the bundle into the exhausted woman's arms, the doctor handed off her child. Mother and father gazed upon the still gently sobbing petite face of their daughter, small strands of golden hair peeking out from the soft blanket.

"Would you look at that Raven…"

Raven did look. Unmistakably, this was hers. And she could not stop the swell of pride she felt when she gazed upon her, even as she whined gently in her arms. "Tai… what did you say you wanted to call her if it was a girl?"

"Easy. Yang. I've been sitting on that for weeks." Tai's answers was immediate, even if it was uninspired, "Yang Xiao Long."

Raven nodded, gently pushing away a strand of hair from her face, "And for our boy?"

Tai grinned, "I was thinking-"

"D-Doctor?"

The two paused and glanced up at the doctor, as he spun around with confusion written all across his face. Quickly, he approached his aide and listened intently to her hushed frantic report. Quickly, he two the second bundle from her arms and pressed his stethoscope against it. Behind his glasses, it was unmistakable that his brow was furrowing tightly and his movements became more urgent.

"Hey… What's happening?" Tai's tone was unnerved, glancing between the doctor and the aide as they moved about.

"Keep them calm, I'll do what I can." The doctor gave the short command before stepping out of sight from the hanging sheets, to the immense shock of the two pertified parents.

The aide stepped forward quickly intercepting Tai before he could give chase, "There- There were complications sir. Your second child is having… trouble. We're doing everything we can for him."

Raven sat up abruptly, though paused when she realized she disturbed her daughter. Even still, there was clear panic in her eyes, "Trouble?! Wha- what do you mean?!"

"One moment the child was fine and the next… His breathing stopped. The doctor is attempting to resuscitate him now."

Immediately a chill pervaded the room. Her words were like the single bang of a nail in the coffin. Tai could barely work his mouth, and Raven simply stared in disbelief. Her spirit crushed at that one statement. One moment, things were completely fine. Now, it was like the weight of the world had fallen on their shoulders.

"Just stopped… What… Why? What happened to my son?" Tai's words were weak, his mind still not comprehending what he had just been told.

The aide looked down and away, but quickly gathered herself and professionally met his eyes. "We don't know… These things just happen. Its rare, but it does happen. Stillbirths are things that we cant predict."

Stillborn.

Tai staggered back, bracing himself against the bed as his heart raced. The aide pleaded with him about something, but he wasn't hearing it. Raven was in a similar state. He just couldn't believe it. It was the worst possible scenario; one that he hadn't even considered before simply because it was too awful to think about. Now it was becoming reality.

"Please sir! Do not lose hope! The doctor still believes there is a chance!"

"There…" He swallowed, daring to look up, "There's still a chance?"

"Yes! Just be patient sir… We are doing everything in our power. You must have hope!" The aide said stalwartly, meeting his wavering eyes. Slowly, he nodded, and moved back to his wife's side. Raven still didn't look good, she was pale and visibly shaking, but he still took her hand again. He had to be strong, for her if nothing else.

Hope, huh. Okay… He could do that. Hope to god for a miracle, because there was nothing more they could do.

A/N:

This... I'm not sure what to call this. After reading a couple similar JJBA crossovers and scrounging through the RWBY tag, I began to think up some chapters concerning this theme. Its nothing more than a pet project of mine, and I have no concrete plot line to follow just yet; but I still had to write it.

The idea of writing a sociopathic serial killer was too good to pass up, and I had a lot of interesting ideas swimming in my head when I went into this. Im not sure how this will turn out, and those of you who know me probably see a notable difference in quality in this compared to Blackfoot. Its a subject I'm not used to writing for, and I hope my story doesn't reflect that too badly.

I've got no excuse.