Chapter 1: Contemplation
For the path to Hell is paved with good intentions.
A dark book tumbled, falling almost in slow motion amongst the ever mourning skies, raindrops streaming from the heavens, the tears of the gods shattering upon the pavement beneath the rumbling clouds. Now, there is a world, a world where this book drops into the hands of aspiring god, one who is begging to transcend the limits of this mortal realm. A world where in Japan an immortal is born, and a hero dies. A world where Good and Evil participate in a battle to the death, in an eternal dance between Heaven and Hell, in a desperate attempt to preserve Mu, the balance, the universe itself. This? This is not that story. And for in this world, a cart of apples were spilled. In this world, a Death God decided that there was good enough. In this world, there is no Hero, no Savior, no Knight in shining armour. In this world, there is none, for instead he is the Villain, the Antagonist, the Harbinger. And reality twisted.
The dreary London atmosphere added a forlorn and forbidding aura to the scene, the air muggy with the ever present moisture. A man, dark hair, dark eyes, dark shadows beneath his eyes, sat hunched, curled within a chair as he typed robotically away at a keyboard, surrounded by dozens of lit monitors filling the room with their cold dim glow. The room was dark, shadows reaching from every corner, constantly clawing at the crevices of the dark man's mind. A single window was present within, supplying the room with the endless patter of rain, and the constant chill that permeated Britain steeped itself in his bones, slowly freezing him from the inside out. It was by chance that, when the man glanced sidelong out the window to gauge the time, a raven book fell, its pages fluttering wildly in vain. It was by chance that, deciding his eyes could use a break from the straining of endless black text upon the searing white screens, he stood, shambling his way down his tower of solitude and stepped outside. And it was by chance that, seeing the muddied journal, he bent over awkwardly to lift it up, his eyes scanning the cover furiously. It was by chance, was it not?
L stared down at the small book in his hands, so grandly titled "DEATH NOTE". He rolled his eyes at the opening pages, irritated that someone would be so childish as to attempt to partake in some form of infantile game with him, dropping such an obviously illegitimate notebook amongst the endless rain. He looked up, his eyes searching in vain for a glimpse of any intruders upon the property, but be made his way inside once more when any such being failed to present itself, eager to escape from brisk winds and chilling rain. He swore silently to himself that he would ask Watari to examine the cameras for their anonymous trespasser. If nothing else, it could present a temporary distraction from the monotony of casework. He slowly, heavily, climbed the stairs once more, his thoughts unwittingly returning to the filthy compilation within his arms. He perched himself precariously upon his creaking chair, and contemplated.
It would… cause no harm to simply… play along, would it not? It is perhaps, no, most certainly, a practical joke of some sort, but even still it shall itch at my mind and reduce my mental capacity by approximately 4% until I can prove that there is, without a shadow of a doubt, nothing of substance nor truth to this notebook. With a nod of satisfaction at his own expert utilization of logic, L opened the notebook, lay it out before him on the desk, and booted up his computer once more.
A/N: Thanks for checking out this story, which was based around a prompt I got in creative writing class to write a story where your favorite hero is instead a villain, or vice versa. Enjoy and review!