Death Note Fan Fiction / Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Another Note: Kira's Ghost ❯ Smile for me ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Matt's eyes squeezed shut, his jaw was taut as his teeth clenched from bracing for impact of another bullet to the brain, only this one won't skim through a lucky space between skull and brain tissue. The barrel is too close. A bullet at this range won't just splatter the matter, it'll pulverize it to liquid. But instead of a quick and cruel bang, he hears a pathetic, joyous click-click.

His ragged, shallow breaths are then the only sound cutting through the quiet night before a dull thump.

"Wh.." he couldn't get out the rest, his breath was gone; his sanity gone, too.

"I think it stopped." Mello says.

He'd tossed his gun aside, which was the dull thump Matt heard a moment ago; the millisecond after Mello heard his gun stall he tossed the suddenly offensive betrayer of his trust to the ground. Relief, though it has him feeling light, weighed him down so that his forehead lowered to his partner's to rest there as he's trying to calm his own raging nerves from going feral of his sanity. Cupping the red head's cheeks, he peppered kisses against his lips; he's so glad that Matt's alive.

"You broke free!" Matt's voice came out louder than he'd intended it. "You fucking mastermind you broke free!" He laughed with hysterics that silenced briefly when his lips are pressed to the blond's.

Mello sat up, shaking his head. "You're wrong, Mail, I didn't do it. I don't know what happened." Confessed the freed man-hunter. "One minute my body was gunning for you then my arm went limp."

"It's because you didn't want to kill me," Matt shoved Mello from his lap as he sits up. "Maybe your will beat out the death note because it isn't used to having people kill each other. Maybe you… I don't know, overrode it- like you can with a virus on a computer."

"All I know is that my gun doesn't stall. You should be dead- my finger pulled that trigger under the influence; if I beat out the death note's will.. I never would have touched the trigger."

Matt grimaced; the expression is missed by Mello as the night tends to steal a person's identifiable features and expressions of physical emotion. "If not you, then what the hell happened? Did you run out of bullets?"

Mello shook his head, answering verbally as well. "Six shots fired out of twenty-three? Not likely."

Did Kira have a change of heart? Was it possible to cancel out a kill? What were those rules again?

The human whose name is written in the note shall die.

This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.

If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

None of the stipulations seems enough of a reason to stop the order. So then what? "Maybe Kira added something to it; he could be testing its limitations with something bigger in mind planned."

"What could be more effective than my aiming to kill you?" wondered the pissed off gunman. He is nobody's puppet. If he didn't want Light dead before this stunt sealed his fate on the 'To do away with' list. He can go right above Halle Lidner.

"How does your heart feel? Is it racing? Throbbing?"

Mello waived for Matt to be quiet. Good thing he's not the type to exhibit symptoms by suggestion because his pulse would doing a Quick-step routine in the red head's company. Whatever happened, it was a blessing. And he wasn't going to blow it by asking what or why. Useful as the answers would be in a case like this, now was not the time to get those answers when finding the sadistic killer was highest on the list. They must stop Kira. God help the world if they can't.

Mello got to his feet, holding out his hand he yanks Matt up from the grass. Releasing their hold, the blond then grips his partner's shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze for Matt's sake as well as his own.

At the hidden mansion, somewhere in London.

It was almost background noise having blended in so well with the booming thunder from the returned storm; however, Light Yagami heard the unmatched knocks heavily thumping against the door of his bedroom.

Had he been awoke from sleep by the knocks he would have ignored them, but since he's been awake and currently staring out the Tudor leaded glass windows at the flashing lightning, he moved away from the view and answered the door. It was a no brainer who had knocked since he and B are the only ones in the home. The only mystery behind the door was what does the Shinigami want?

"Here." He thrust out his arm, his hand holding tight a jar of strawberry jam.

"I'll give you this strawberry, if you keep this secret, alright?"

Those were L's words from back then; the words a spirit ghosting through his mental labyrinth.

Back when he was alive, back when he was able to be bested and return the sentiment to Light. Back before the pompous child used the notebook to brainwash him, before taking custody of him like some pervert would do to a child. Feed them a lie "your parents are dead or will be killed" et cetera if you don't do as I say, if you try not to stay. The abductee becomes docile, they usually do. What hope do they have when trying to be brave by protecting loved ones?

Gaze narrow; embittered by the memory, Light asked in a tone that does not match his foul mood. "What is it?"

"A peace offering." The jar is rocked back and forth to entice. "Go on, take it. It's good…" Receiving no response, B says. "Light, I don't want you to feel as if you have to be mad at me."

"What could possibly make me mad at you?" crossing his arms, he sidebars to himself. "The fact that you dragged me here with temptations of a promise of information, ask me to resume my role as Kira, then you don't listen to a word I say."

B took in a low but audible breath through his nostrils then let it out with less volume. "We're new at this living together situation; we haven't figured out the right lane in-which to drive. I haven't been around people for a long time, it increases self-importance." With use of the jar as a finger, he points at Light. "You on the other hand are used to being surrounded by admirers and lackeys, forces that be, trying to- blindly- stop one of their own until a reveal party was thrown by the SPK." Retracting the jar, he pops the top then extends his invitation again to Light. "Congratulations, it was a college student, on your force, all along."

Seeing that Light is not amused, he scratched the back of his head then digs into the jam once the phantom itch is taken care of.

"How can I be guaranteed this isn't some double-cross?"

"I'm only offering a truce, a stretch of leeway… I have no reason to double-cross something that benefits myself." He shoves a glob of chunky spread into his mouth, licking it away as if his tongue were bread getting the treatment of a sandwich being prepared.

Light inwardly scoffed, Beyond wasn't kidding about the self-importance comment.

Beyond cocked his head from left to right then back left. "Are you ignoring me or thinking about what I said?"

"A little of both." Replied the disgruntled.

"I've met four-year-olds less childish than you, Yagami," His long bony finger runs the rim of the jam jar. "I just wanna get along and become partners, for the greater good of our goals."

"What are your goals?"

"To help you."

"I don't buy it."

Beyond shrugged. "I'm not selling it. I'm merely telling you that this is what I want.. What has to be in order for this to work." Holding out his hand, he waits for the reciprocation.

Light Yagami could blow off the invitation of a truce, or he could give him what he wants and get along. Will things be easier? Will they actually make whatever this is supposed to be work? And if not, what then? He'll have to find somewhere to go. It seems like the better option than staying with a loose cannon who may or may not be popping medication for schizophrenia or D.I.D. He looked Beyond in the eyes, not knowing him well enough to gauge gphis sincerity he can only work with what's offered; they seem less mad than when he'd previously engaged him. Maybe he is being sincere. He knows nothing about the guy, maybe he's not as socially inept as L. Maybe he truly is capable of caring about someone or something.

Taking the offered, and thankfully clean, hand into his own he shakes it. "Alright. Deal."

"Jam?"

"No thanks." His sense of smell was already taste deep in the jar, there was no need to eat it.

Lingering, Beyond looked over Light's shoulder into the bedroom. "What are you doing?"

Walking away from the door over to a coffee table where his laptop sits open, he turns it around to show the curious homeowner. "I've created a place for Kira worshippers to come and state a plea for punishments."

B had watched the news during the few months he was in prison before he died of a heart attack, was tagged, bagged, and buried then had to break out of his own gravesite. And oh the things he saw insofar as Kira's Kingdom. He half expected the chat to be named as such, but was surprised to see: Retribution-Pass.

"Pass?"

"A clearance, not a pass-up."

"Oh." Setting down the jar of jam, he sits on the couch then reached for the laptop. "You think this will be used responsibly?"

Light felt his stomach lurch, the sweet smell of fruity jam was bad enough, but Beyond's man-made spoon to scoop the spread from the jar is currently touching the keyboard of his laptop. Heading into the bathroom across the hall, he ran water over a rag until it's soaked through on one side, and after squeezing the excess water from it he returns to his room holding it out to the messy Shinigami to wipe his hand.

"Here."

B thanked Light; taking the rag he cleaned his hands and mouth then dropped the sloppy rag to the floor.

Light then confidenly states. "I doubt anyone will go against Kira, knowing what he'll do to those who abuse his power."

Beyond gave a grotesque grinning response to that reply; he finds it rather amusing that Light would refer to Kira as if he's someone else. Maybe even an entity beyond human. Kira's an IT. A truly divine existence. This was going to be more fun than he'd originally anticipated.

"Fingers crossed you're trust isn't misplaced by all of these little Mary's looking to lead their lambs to slaughter." His sharp gaze slants to Light. "It's the internet, you know, people lie as if they're born to; a man seen as cruel for merely not giving up his seat on a bus could be turned into a raging rapist by the person reporting him. Would you be able to tell the difference?"

"I'd like to think so. And perhaps you could assist me in finding out the truth, as part of our new truce."

"Nya ha eha haa haa ehee hee," He hyucked a bit more, once calming his hoot he locked eyes with the reborn God and responds in a serious tone. "Kira, I'd be delighted."

The website has only been up for three hours, but already it was filled with requests that Kira judge someone.

Some of the request that came in were complete superficial nonsense: kids grounded for some ridiculous reason, fighting with friends, typical teenage minutia: girlfriends who won't 'put-out', boyfriends who've broken hearts, a girl hates her dad for letting their dog run away! Kira let it all slide, clicking an automated response to them that it was time to let it go. Youth will always act like that; they never truly take anything seriously. Some adults are the same way. But the benevolent Kira will not discredit all age and gender to a bias. A lot of the posting public have real issues.

Abuse, marital and child. A relative that abducted a child, though returned the parents believed said person was not rightly punished. Kira agreed. As swiftly as he read off the name and studied the given photo, said offenders met their end. Men and women who decide that verbal flirting with someone disinterested isn't enough. Gone. Nursing home abuse was tricky for some statements, with others it was an easy task as they've provided photo evidence. The things he's come to know. Light felt sick. Kira felt justified in his quest to create a new world.

Winchester, England. Wammy's Institute.

The helicopter's movement ceased swimming forward and is now hovering in place over a landing pad on the flat roof of the garage. The mini parking lot is detached from the main building where the students dwell. There's a set of stairs leading up and down from the compensating heliport.

"Where are we?" Gevanni asked as they exit the chopper and, after picking up Near, he takes them across the rooftop towards the stairwell.

Roger replied after thanking the techie for opening the door, he'd assumed the polite gesture was for him rather than his boss as it was. "This is my school; founded by myself and my friend Mr. Quillish Wammy."

"So, you mean..?" Everyone read about the famed school that created the great, now late detective L, which was founded by his aide and right hand Mr. Wammy. Who'd of thought he'd get to see the place in person? "Near, you grew up here, too?"

"Yes." Replied the young detective without a hint of showboat about the facts of his impressive upbringing.

Gevanni gave the finicky elderly man an exasperated glance before hoisting his boss back into his arms in bridal-style to escort him inside and down the stairway.

"I'm not sure how much of a hideout this place will be thanks to Backup, but it's worth a shot." Roger is saying over his shoulder. Hitting the landing he exits the parking lot, walking out into the fresh air once again as they stride to the building. "At least until we can rally some troops."

They enter the institute from a side door; Gevanni set Near down in a wheelchair provided by a woman who met them at the entrance. Grabbing the handles on back, he pushes his boss along behind the stead-fast pace of Mr. Ruvie.

Where the agent was amazed by the sights he's briefly seeing, students of every age and each gender, and race are all studying or working cases. It's incredible! Near however sees his past putting layers onto him that he worked to peel off. He wouldn't say his time at Wammy's school was horrible, far from it. He just preferred the terms of "What's done is done". And his time of living at Wammy's is done.

'It's worse than that, I'm not staying here for residence I'm hiding out. Hiding from Kira.' Muses the young detective; he can feel his fingernails digging into his palms.

"Near,"

"Mr. Rester," Near sounded relieved.

He thought his most reliable and trusted agent was still in London; Gevanni must have called him, or perhaps Roger had since the technician didn't know where they were going up until now.

"I'm up to speed about certain things, but still in the dark about others." Informed the detective's right hand.

"Light has regained ownership of the notebook; we're now facing him and a former roommate of mine, B, who goes by the name of Beyond Birthday."

"Why does that name sound familiar?" He wondered out loud.

"He was killed in prison three or so years ago, after surviving burning himself alive." Near was sure to add. "It was of a heart attack from Kira which truly killed him."

"And now they're working together? That seems unusual."

"B's hatred for L is likely the cause of the sudden companionship between them." The detective deduced. "He knew how much Kira was out to destroy L, he made enough of a show of it during the original case."

Rester nods, following along. "This B is going to be a problem?"

"A huge one."

They walk into Roger's office, closing the door.

…..

"So far we've got a so-so response from the police in regards to helping us find Kira and Backup." Roger regrets to report once hanging up the dial-up phone on his desk.

The group have been on their phones for an hour now and, finally off lines of communication, they're on to the progression reports.

"I was able to recruit one agent, she'll be in tomorrow." Near informed.

They all are glad for that.

Rester had good news as well, another single agent was coming their way. He's driving in from Norfolk. Gevanni was only given the stream of apologies as the police force want nothing to do with going against Kira. It was as the presumed L from the video feed had stated, all the man wants is peace. Is that so wrong? If those who oppose want to act out, what happens to them is their fault.

Near glanced at his buzzing phone. "In total that gives us about six members. Hello?"

"Watch your back Near," comes a familiar voice down the line.

"It's Mello."

"Kira is up to some new tricks with the notebook. He just sent me after Matt."

"What do you mean by that?" Asks Gevanni. The phone is put on speaker so everyone can hear and participate in the conversation.

"One minute we're watching the news and the next I'm trying to put a bullet in his brain. I wasn't moving on my own. I was like a damned puppet."

"Probably something he learned from Beyond." Near wonders. "This is going from bad to worse."

"More like worse to nuclear." Comments Mello.

"Mello, you seem unusually calm considering the situation," It wasn't missed by Near that Mello wasn't raving like a lunatic, his usual reaction to anything past the usual waking up in the morning. "Did Matt get away?"

"Matt didn't have to; for some reason I just stopped trying to kill him." And he's obviously not dead from a heart attack after failing to do as willed. So what happened?

The small group went from interested to relieved, then on to completely baffled! How could Mello have beat out the death note's will? It isn't possible! And yet, Mello is calm. The big red flag that all is well. Or perhaps that's a signal that shit has really gone sideways and have completely done a head dive to spikes and concrete.

"You could be next, so watch out for each other." Mello cuts through their stunned silence. "Where are you?"

"Wammy's." Near replied somberly.

"What are you doing back there?"

"Regrouping." Roger jumped between the rival's chatter. "And I suggest that you and Matt come here as well."

Mello gave a sort of snort in reply. "No. It's been two months, sure; but Kira's still in Guildford, I'm sure of it."

"You don't know that." Roger snipped.

"I do. It makes the most sense." He muttered something to Matt, who's somewhere in the room with him. "Give us a month on this end; you can do whatever it is you're doing there and if we've got nothing within that time frame, we'll come over."

"Sounds good. We'll see you in a month."

"Shut up, Near." He said before hanging up on his end.

Near hadn't meant to be insulting, he doubts any of them will have an easy time of locating Light and B before something colossal happens. It was doubt on both their parts.

In Cheshunt. The Venue Pub.

The place is jumping with the usual weekend crowd. Barely legible conversation combined with scantily covered flesh, what's not to love about the place? Drinks are at a fair price and the entertainment of dancing or pool suits the house's needs.

One man in particular is having his need fed. She's there again tonight with her friends, Nicole. He likes calling her Nikki in his head. She likes it too; he's noticed none of her friends have called her by that, they always just say Nicole. His Nikki. Under the flickering neon of dayglow blue and high resolution purple lights, no one can see him playing the guitar. Fingers strumming at the base of his manhood with one hand and stretching the sound up the neck with the other while he watched her with her friends playing pool. The voyeur finished by the end of the first song playing for the dance floor. If anyone had heard him cry out as he messed himself they said nothing.

He hated it, though, because as much as he enjoyed watching Nikki's body bending and flexing over the sturdy pool table, that long stick in her firm hands, he has to leave his view to clean up. But, he's learned to make quick work of it over the years since his taken a liking to her. He closed his eyes as the sweet sound of her laughter hit his ear when he passed through to get to the restrooms.

He heard the door pushing open right after he entered the bathroom. He paid it no mind. Knocking on stall doors until one swung open, he stepped inside for some privacy to clean himself up. He's made more of a mess than usual tonight because tonight's the night. He's going to make his move.

"Occupied." He called out when hearing a knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

"O-ccu-pied. Wanker. What are you deaf?" sticking his foot under the space between door and floor, he swore at the person who'd been trying to get in when hearing their footsteps retreat. "Guy can't have any privacy anymore. Sickos like to look."

Finished with wiping the release from his member, the assured man exits the stall getting an awful start due to a man who looks like a skeleton standing, stalk-still in the center of the bathroom right across from his stall. Must be the deaf guy. Freak. Oh well. Going to the sink he turns on the water to throw some on his sweat beaded face. He couldn't help himself from the guile comment.

"You're a long way away from Vegas. What's with the get up? You a magician?" He asked.

He felt his nerve leave him when the presumed stray performer turned his head to look at him; he sees himself in the reflection of the small round-frame shades. His brown eyes hold fright, his thin lips almost invisible they're so pressed together. Puffing up his thin frame against the presumed smaller physique of this bathroom screwball, he backed down when the screwball turned his body to align with the direction of his head.

"You're lucky I have somewhere to be." He backs away. He won't be scared. Not by this nut. Nor will he let himself be so quickly followed, letting his gaze keep the weirdo pinned in place until he could flee once completely out of sight.

Looking around the bar he spots his Nikki saying goodbye to her friends in an exchange of kisses and hugs, promises to see them the next time they're all free. Tonight's the night. Tonight. Tonight. What the hell is that guy doing leaving the bathroom so soon? Couldn't he take a long shit and just leave him alone?

No. He needs to get out of his own head. The freak isn't out for him. Leaving the pub, he looks left then right for Nikki. Looks like she's walking home instead of getting a cab. She's just asking, begging him to take her to his place and showing her a good time. The best time. He smiled. Looking over his shoulder when the music grew loud on the streets due to the door opening; he sees the glitzy freak from the bathroom.

"Look. Is this about money? Do you want some?" He dug into his pocket and hurled a few pounds at the man; they flutter to the street, remaining there. "Please take it. Get a cab, and go home. I've got somewhere to be."

Scampering away, and trying not to make it seem like he's fleeing a fire, he heads off after his dearest.

…..

He's back there. He's fucking back there! He had to stop dogging his dearest Nikki in order to flee the screwball from the bathroom. And why him? Just because he likes to jerk-off to a pretty face, just because he happened to be the only one in the bathroom at the time, he's gotta be harassed by some dumb teenager and his pranks. This guy's got to be a teenager. It's too immature to follow someone around like this.

He hopped onto the bus hoping that would be an end to it, but alas the stalker followed him. What's worse, despite all of the empty seats around him, the skeleton chose to sit right beside him. Right there. Hip to hip. He should have expected the extravagant crude behavior to go this far, this freak was wearing his tall hat indoors after all.

"What is your problem? What have I done to you?" asked the desperate man, thin on patience with this situation. "I'll kick your arse, you know that, right?"

The freak reached up and pulled the cord. The bus came to a stop at the next corner. The desperate man could have put the big bad wolf, huffing and puffing to destroy pig's houses out of business he exhaled so hard. He's gone. He's gone! Ahaha! He was worked up for nothing! …For nothing.. that means he let his darling Nikki get away for nothing! Damn it! Maybe that's it. Maybe that asshole was her boyfriend trying to scare him for following his desire. Sicko. He's got some nerve.

Boy. The next time he sees him, he's gonna rip those little glasses off that smug face and beat the paint off of him!

He arrived at home an hour later, he rode on the bus long enough to ensure the man was no longer following him in secret. Unfortunately the storm from earlier picked back up. Terrific. He hadn't brought his umbrella., assuming the foul weather was done for the night. Well, whatever. He'd rather take getting drenched over being followed. So he was relieved to see no part of the stalker as he finally made his way down the street to his home. Unsuccessful in spending the night between his dearest's thighs; hearing her soft cries; feeling her tender flesh, and…

"Shit!" He was peeking between the horizontal blinds in his living room; all was well. Was. But then from the corner of his eye- dammit, there he is!

The stalker is across the street, standing, just staring away at his home. He wants to be seen. All the dark pockets he could have hidden in to watch his home, but he's standing right there under the street lights. An orange ball glowed just off to the side of his made-up face, a thin swirl of smoke whirled into the glowing street light. The stranger's eyes look on fire in the orange overhead reflecting off the glass of his shades. The storm not bothering him at all.

"That's it…"

Operator: 9-9-9, how can I help you?

"A man is stalking me. He followed me home from the pub tonight."

Operator: And where is the man now, sir?

"Across the street from my house." He hurries over to the window. "He's still there just looking." He feels bile in his mouth. Did the stranger move closer to his home?

Operator: And what is your address and name?

"Oscar Lewis. I live on Kilsmore Lane." His voice has grown more nervous, the man has moved in closer- he had to have! Before he could see his face, now he can't because the light is behind him, not a lot but enough to put him in shadows beyond his white, extra white face. "And hurry, please hurry. I think he might try to hurt me."

Operator: Relax, sir, I've sent a car out to you. They're going to be there shortly. For now, get away from the window and remain calm.

"Easy for you to say."

He moved away from the window, sitting in the armchair across from it. He can see just enough through the peek in the blinds from there. From there he can see the man has gone. Popping up from the chair, he rushes to the front door to look out of the peephole. No one there. Maybe he knows he's called the cops? He could have seen him on the phone and put it together.

"Nha! HA!" He yelped when a hand cupped his crotch. He jumped away from the door seeing a long arm shoved through the mail slot. "No!"

He struck the arm with his phone when seeing it reaching upward for the door knob. His attempts to stop the hand from unlocking the door were met with no hint of pain or alarm as the hand snaked up the door at an impossible angle and more to the point an impossible length. What kind of mutant…? He backed away from the door as the hand turned the lock over. Let him. He won't get the chain off it.

It didn't keep him from jumping when the door popped open just the width of the chain.

"Ha!" Spat Oscar, triumphant that he remembered to do over the protective piece of metal.

Ha! Indeed …Until the blood freezing sight of bolt cutters come into view. Oscar wailed into the phone as he bolts up the stairs.

"He's coming into the house!"

He can hear the man's footsteps dogging him strangely, he must be taking the stairs two at a time.

Operator: Mr. Lewis, can you tell me what's happening? Where are you right now?

"Oh god! Oh my go-..!"

Oscar went flying forward far faster, and far more in flight than any trip over his feet could ever cast him. He grunted when his face smashed into the wall; blood poured from his swollen nose, but that pain was ignored because of the blow to the back of his head which sent him sailing in the first place.

"Please, don't!" He's rolled over onto his back, straddled to pin him down. "What do you want? I'm sorry! I only wanted to love Nikki, eh, Nicole! I only wanted to love Nicole; I never would have done anything to her. Please… please don't do this.."

He whimpered when cigar smoke was blown into his face. Oscar coughed from the thick smog clouding his breathing a hair more, where fear has already stolen so much air from his hyperventilating breaths. Samedi's hands clasped together in a ball, then he lifts them over his head then swings them down.

Dear Kira,

There's a man who's been stalking me for a year. I've seen him just about every night I went out with my girlfriends. He scares me, I'm certain he's going to do something to me someday. Please, if you could make him stop. Here's his photo, I asked a friend to take it for me. That's all I have. Please Kira, please help me.

Faithfully,

Nicole Jones.

The police enter Oscar Lewis's home six minutes after receiving the call. They expected many things to be taking place, a struggle, a man hiding somewhere deep in the home while the intruder continued trying to attack him, they even thought the intruder would have left the home knowing they were on the way, and they'd be chewed out by the homeowner for not being faster in arrival. But they never expected to see the abomination that greeted them at the top of the stairs.

A man, whom they assume is the homeowner, Oscar, sits at the top of the stairs; his head is down, body still; and upon moving him they had to secure their wobbled standing on the stairs by grabbing the banister before the shock could knock them down the staircase.

"My word, it looks as if he's been hit by a bull," declared one of the officers. He's never seen anything like it.

Oscar's head is enormous, swelled by the bruises from hits that had come with such force behind them. His face was caved in at the nose, so it looked like an unusual implosion. Could a man really have done this? Or… something higher up?

"Reckon it's Kira?"

"Could be …Wait a minute, his name was Oscar Lewis, weren't it?"

"Yeah."

"Hasn't he been accused of sexual assault a few times?"

"Never proved."

The officer scratched his scalp. "I suppose Kira decided guilty."

"Yeah." Starting down the stairs, he waved for his companion to join him. "Nothing much we can do now. Come on, let's call an ambulance."

A small crowd gathered around In the thin alley to watch the man get carted away. More bodies. More death. More proof that Kira is back, and will right the world's wrongs. Or else.

5:23 am. Winchester, England.

"In spite of everything going on, we really need to turn in for a few hours," Roger is already resuming is role as head of the school.

The most authoritative voice. One that must be obeyed. Great. Near grabbed the control pad on his chair and used it to turn himself around to motor towards the exit.

"Misters Carter and Loud, please go with Selima, she'll show you to your room."

"I'm not rooming with Near?" Gevanni asked, looking from his boss to the elderly man whom his employer seemed to be relinquishing his authority to.

"Why would you do that?" Asked Roger. "Selima, their rooms."

Gevanni seemed to want to further object, but he remained silent as he followed a large woman to his new sleeping place. He does, however, see the direction that Near goes off to, for future reference.

Near rolled into his room; greeted by darkness. He doesn't bother with the light, nothing has changed so he can find his way around in the dark. The wheelchair came to a standstill beside the first empty bed; he stood up and walked carefully to the head of it, having stopped at the foot. He needs to exercise his legs.

Six members is surely not enough, but it's the best they've got. And they worked with less before. When Mello took out his entire team using the death note for starters. They weren't sunk then, far from it. A bit peeved but nothing out of the norm.

'I'll never get to sleep.'

But when his head hit the pillow it was lights out. The storm was gone by 5:30. The sky cleared up to dawn in its lovely light blue hues until the bright yellow sun came shining down on the United Kingdom with a smile. It seemed like everyone, all over the world, had a smile on their face.

Amazing how rain can do that. Wash away the world's problems, give the grime and dirt a clean slate. But the thing with washing away filth is that it always finds its way back. It's hard to wash clean all of man's problems. Or perhaps not.

Because this morning, when the crudest grocer in Islington; a man who's best "hello" was a middle finger to existence, he instead did something new. He smiled at the female patron and said "Good morning."

It was like a virus, because when she said "Good morning" in return, and smiled, others in town joined in on the courtesies. London was already the pinnacle of polite society, but the extended reach was a brush fire. And it isn't just London, it's happening everywhere! In some way, no matter how small the start, all the 195 countries of the world begin to change.

X x X

Commentary: Yeah man, I'm having the best time writing this even though I feel like puke ahaha. Thank you for reading, it means a lot. I'm watching the crap out of Boy Meets World lately, has anyone noticed the crowd inappropriately woos over children making out? Creepy. I wonder if they're canned responses? Meanwhile, I'm so excited for October, my idol Joker is getting a movie, it's gonna be so cool! Yippee!