Have to put the damned thing here in the this here part. Fuck it...

Prologue
The event plagued the news reports for months afterwards, of the tragedy that had befallen the nice, calm city of Washington, D.C. There had been no terrorist intent, or anything similar. Simply, an unfortunate malfunction sent the Ziron Inc. private jet spiraling down into the bustling city of human people.
The chaos ensued. People died quick, gory deaths. Families were wiped clean off the face of the planet, and the architecture of 2020 D.C. was savaged by the jet.
Of those on the plane, only two were fortunate enough to leave. One was a lucky pilot, miraculously uninjured, who was killed in a random mugging six days later in New York City. Poor old man, his fate just didn’t want him still walking around the surface of life, apparently.
The other was the only surviving heir to the helm of Ziron Incorporated, as of this catastrophe which claimed his parents’ souls. He was rescued from near death and was sent to a standing hospital for immediate treatment. His life was spared uncertainly, with Voltage Ziron left in a coma.
It was at this time that Voltage rose from his bed and turned to see himself lying there, breathing unsure, pulse slow and steady like a turtle racing to consciousness. He was freaked out by this whole ordeal of being separated from his body, but he was too exhausted from having his soul all but severed from his body.
“Hello, my dear dead friend.” The gravelly voice from the doorway drew Volt to gaze at it and see a smoky, cloaked figure with a ghastly hood over his face, which was concealed by a grotesque black skull mask. He held a scythe in his left hand, a strange modern looking day planner in his right. The planner was thick with content, and one page sticking out unevenly said the date of six days in the future, and showed the name of the pilot who’d survived. Of course, this he didn’t connect with the pilot’s living due to being unable to communicate with the plane of the living.
“Who. . . Who the hell are you?” the fifteen year-old demanded, his quivering voice held together by a single thread of desperation to avoid the lustrous silver edge of the scythe.
The hooded figure seemed to glide across the floor, the fog of black behind him veiling the door out. “I am, as you must be aware,” he said, shaking his planner, “a very busy man, indeed.”
“Pfft,” Volt spat, letting his wittiness out to support his dwindling confidence. “If man you are.”
“You doubt it? Good, I hate lying to the fated.”
Volt blinked, feeling a certain twitch up on the top of his head. “Fated?”
The visitor faced Volt, and the mask grinned widely, a sight that sickened Volt to no true end. “Yes. Doomed to the afterlife.”
Volt staggered back from the force behind what the man had just said. “I’m. . .”
“Yes, you are going to die.” The cloaked thing flipped open his planner and stopped at a page, labeled with the day’s date. “But,” he began, “Not for another three days.”
Volt sat down, and felt uncomfortable as he saw a tail, a cat’s tail, wave in front of his nose. He touched it, feeling that it was attached to him, but was too awestruck by the scythe-wielding man’s proclamation. “What did you just say?”
“No, you aren’t going to die yet. You are going to Comatose, a textbook paradise for those granted the essence of permission by her Majesty, the Archangel.”
Volt’s mind boggled at all this information, and scratching his head, he found two large cat ears attached. Feeling around, he found no human ears concealed beneath the hair. “And the cat parts?” he wondered, still surprised.
“They will help you in blending in with the other people of Comatose. Now, considering my tight schedule, we should really be going, Mr. Ziron.”
Volt stood at the figure’s formal means of speaking to him, and winced when he saw the hand that the reaper held out for him to grab. His skin was black and wrinkled to the point that the fold layered to be like hills of flesh. Hesitantly, Volt grabbed the hand, and the reaper laughed, an oddly heartwarming sound.
“Just remember, Voltage. Three days.”
And then, for no reason Volt saw understandable, he collapsed to the floor, but it was not black he saw.
He saw a rainbow first, and then he saw wet, landing in a puddle. Then, he fell unconscious normally.


There. Ya like it? Love it, fave it, do wahtever you want.