A/N: Hello all, and welcome to the new and improved version of 'Fame Less Than Infamy', in all it's soon-to-be-updated glory. It makes much more sense now, so I am happy to keep it like this for now. Hopefully, you feel the same way, too.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor the inspiration for this story, but if after all the hours spent editing and polishing this, I don't own it, then I don't know what I'd do. I don't own the title either: That's Fall Out Boy's property. Whether or not they are pleased with this is something for them to claim if they at all care.
All that's left to say, I suppose is, "Sit back, and please enjoy yet another Ruin Takada fic. It's been a long wait, but it was worth it in the end."
So thanks again, please R&R, and please enjoy.
Fame Less Than Infamy
Long Live Notoriety
The remarkable details of the King of the East's last public appearance in America's Queen of the West.
By Miss B Bridesmaid
(Dated 07/29/04)
Yesterday, on the 28th June, at Chicago's Congress Plaza Hotel, an unforgettable event transpired, a real one for the text books. I should know – I was there. I was approved of by the great detective L himself to follow and serve every scoop of the Kira case (as it happens) to you my dear reader, ever since Kira's first Crime Time rag back in December. To keep myself alive for the next big scoop, I used a nom-de-plume, an heirloom from my late journalist uncle – an LABB victim who would've taken this case like it was Birthday and Christmas in one big package, had he not become a victim in that similarly spectacular case (the perpetrator of which becoming yet another Kira victim in January, earlier this year).
And yet, thanks to yesterday's events, I can reveal to you that every soul is now safe, even the dark ones of the Criminals and Journalists that litter this world.
And so, as history was being made in Conference Room 1, the long table set for our five guests, I sat in the audience, waiting for that main attraction that was set to appear from the back door behind the panel. The panel was set out to ensure absolutely no physical contact with the Journalists, Camera Men, and other like-minded representatives all out to see that one god-on-Earth that had caused all the hassle since December onward, a hassle that had only ended two months previously due to Kira's capture.
At the finality of the stoke of 11AM, the large back door opened, and our huge crowd bustled with excitement as the youngest and the oldest of the Japanese Kira Task Force entered first, decked out in suits, and sat down at the panel behind bronze place markers, marked respectively as 'Chief Detective Soichiro YAGAMI' and 'Detective Touta MATSUDA'. They were former members now, the Task Force being closed since Kira's arrest.
Next, two more suited ex-Task Force members made their entrance, both of them middle-aged and noticeably taller, and stood at either side of the door, holding it open as the fifth interviewee emerged, ducking his head slightly to move under the door frame.
Swathed in a huge black hooded cloak, with shoulders the width of a football player's, and a long black cane in a black-gloved hand, he was reminiscent of the Grim Reaper himself, considering he'd been placing His place for little under a year. The hood, which fell forward and showed nothing but the shadow of a face, swayed gently as he walked slowly forward in measured footsteps, seeming to take in the glory of his first public appearance while he could. His presence was powerful, intimidating when coupled with his huge 6'1'' height, standing between the tall men on either side of him, each with a hand on his shoulders during the whole of the walk to the place set with a significantly larger plaque than the others.
This was the Saviour, the Angel of Death, Lord Yama, the Cloven-Hoofed Devil Incarnate himself – whatever name you had for him, and many others besides, that didn't change the fact that the Cloaked One in this very Conference Room was Kira himself, the Go-To-Guy for Evil Haters everywhere. In fact, his place setter was marked with this title in plain English, and many more languages besides: キラ, 키라, קירה, Кира, Κίρα, кира, کرا. They were all there, each gleaming black in bronze for the global audience represented here.
The cane taken away, and each panel member rigged up with wireless headsets, save for Kira himself (his may have been hidden, of course), the Press Conference officially began, all the interviewees offered a notepad and pencil, and water. Even Kira was given a glass, just in case Vengeance-Deities actually imbibed fluid here on Earth.
All the detectives drank, and as four glasses were set back down, and we were all assured of their fluency in English, not one of us remained seated, preferring instead to clamour for their attention.
Above the buzz, the first question was heard: "How were the members of the Task Force chosen? Did you compare everyone's qualifications, or did you just fight each other for it?" A good-natured laugh spread through the crowd, soon quieted to allow the Police Chief Yagami chance to speak.
"N-no, it was nothing like that." Yagami's speech was hesitant, always hesitant, having a hard time detaching himself from the truth, as it would turn out. No, they'd started with an office full that was quickly becoming an office half-full – or rather, half-empty, in light of the events – until Yagami offered his ultimatum: If you can't be willing to give up your life for the case; sacrifice what you hold dear; if you have something to lose, then get out and never come back. You will be signed onto a new case, but no jobs or ranks will be lost. Two hours later, there were six men left, including Yagami. One left through mistrust, and another was lost at Kira's arrest – a Mr Hirokazu UKITA, God rest his soul – leaving our guests here as the remaining men.
"This amazing arrest we heard of in the Tribune in April," a local reporter held up the Tribune, my article on the arrest plastered proudly over the cover, "what happened exactly? Is it true that Kira just happened to be at the scene of a bust up in Shinjuku and you just took advantage of the situation?" The folds of Kira's cloak barely bristled at the knock to his pride. Instead of reacting, Kira merely picked up his glass with one gloved bony hand, lifting up the lip of the hood slightly to allow the glass passage. The sound of gulping water was heard on the speakers, stopping when the death god set the glass down on the table, only a small fraction of the water gone.
He's probably telling us something through this, but I digress.
Detective Shuichi AIZAWA, tall and afro-toting, took over from his chief. The bust up merely comprised of a pre-arranged gang-fight between two rival gangs, both with HQs in Yoyogi Park (famous for its teen population and its temples and shrines). Although there are whole offices dedicated to the case folders on these teenage masters of organised crime, they don't know the true identities of the gang leaders, and nor have the leaders ever been caught or arrested. So far exempt from Kira's punishing, the events leading to the arrest on April 18th were intended to be their execution. The plan involved control over a handful of lackeys from both gangs by Kira, which would lead to the orchestrated deaths of both the leaders, and with a minimum of Kira's influence.
These leaders were names by their underlings as 'Saiko' – pronounced like the English word 'Psycho', meaning 'excellent' – and 'K', a simple non-descript letter, almost a mock of the Detective L's own moniker. Both highly intelligent lords of organised crime, they seemed to work out that Kira was on the scene before anyone even knew he'd arrived. How they did still hasn't been disclosed, and so we don't know now – they have been interviewed many times, but as K will only ever mention a 'feeling' and answer with questions of her own, and Saiko prefers to keep quiet until he's 'good and ready', we have no details right now.
So far, they cannot be contained, having technically done nothing wrong, even helping in the apprehension of Kira. What is more, K has claimed succour from L, and with no denials from him, they have had no choice but to let her go free. Saiko, on the other hand, avoided the manipulation techniques favoured by K and simply sat it out silent in the hot seat, betraying nothing. With no confession and just flimsy accusations, he is currently under house arrest.
The plan for their deaths was simple enough: Cause a brawl to break out between the gangs, and have the leaders go down for the resulting deaths of bystanders and gangsters. Then, allow the tough courts of Japan to decide their fate by death penalty. No one would suspect that Kira was behind it. Of course, this plan would require Kira's physical presence to oversee the mayhem. However, with the help of a tipoff and a friend of K's, reported to have been in cahoots with Kira once upon a time, they managed to work out where Kira was, as did the police with the same help. The gangsters under Kira's control, set to die deaths framed by Kira as Saiko and K's doing, couldn't be saved, instead serving to point the way to Kira in their death.
The actual fight, from the beginning to the end, took centre stage at Shinjuku crossing, where the roads were closed off especially for the fight. To ignite it, K's friend acted as a bystander-turned-hostage, only to be shot dead by one of Saiko's lackeys, causing K's gang to retaliate. The friend was later confirmed to be Japanese Pop Idol and Fashionista Misa Amane.
As the unplanned shooting caused the hostage situation to become an all-out gun brawl, the police and the Task Force arrived apparently unannounced on the scene, also working under the assumption that Kira was there. They attempted to end the fight and its risk to innocent life, but officer and Task Force member, Ukita, was lost in the proceedings. Causing yet more uproar, a bystander playing the part of Misa's distraught boyfriend stepped in to stop the fight and get his own revenge – Kira in disguise. Sure enough, the gangs' objective was reached: Kira, dressed "like a Harajuku kid with bandages over his face and a wig", got between the two gangs, as they'd expected. Pulling the guns on him, it left him no choice but to kill six gangsters, through heart attacks.
His plan lost to an unforeseen variable, and the Task Force catching on, Kira tried to run, but, with no further shot and Kira's paths blocked, he was finally arrested, along with Saiko, K, and the living gangsters.
"So," asked a journalist next to me, a Tribune representative unlike myself, as I write about Kira for all national papers including the Tribune, "does that mean he has access to confidential police files and can kill anyone? Actually, how does he kill? How do you know that he can't possibly kill us right now?"
"I'm sorry," answered Kanzo MOGI, the tallest man looking straight at us, "but the actual nature of his killing power is strictly classified information. Only L can disclose that information, at least not until after the execution. But even then, we can't say anything. While it's already been mentioned by the newspapers that only criminals with a properly spelt name and face have been killed," this being my doing, "how he does it hasn't, and so we can't tell you. It would be more than the world's worth for you to know."
According to Chief Yagami, the power has been disabled, and all our safety is guaranteed. He's "as weak as an ordinary human" now, apparently.
Amazingly, Kira is still calm at this point, barely reacting to their insults. He's practically been neutered, but still he doesn't fight. Perhaps he's not only lost his power, but his mind along the way – his ability to feel shock and to react, or even resist. Or, he would have, were he human to begin with.
"When is the execution date set?" One person asked, "How are we sending him off?"
"Yeah, how are we killing Kira? Shall we hang him?"
"Yeah, swing him from a rope!"
The Conference Room is in absolute uproar now, as fanatical Kira haters burst into the room, carrying their placards and chanting their chant, 'Death to the Death God!' We all knew that there were a few staked out in front of the Congress Plaza, and we knew there'd be a crowd, but not like this. The haters were so strong, that not even any of the worshippers could make it through. Still, I'll have to admit that it's events like these that make me glad I specialised in criminal reporting.
Thankfully, we had a SWAT team on hand to drive them away, out of the Plaza. We knew that, concerning a case as high profile and notorious as this one, it was a matter of 'when' – not 'if' – there would be disruptions of this scale.
During the commotion, Kira sat still – talks of death that could once put dark thoughts into the mind must no longer affect him, thanks to his Raison d'Être. His fists were clenched, though: perhaps the possibility of him, the god, joining the wicked, and his previous captivity with demons was messing him up upstairs? Perhaps he was human, after all?
A mentally shaken, teeth-gritting human full of raw anger inside, with just a matter of time before the mask slipped.
The Conference Room returned to relative calm with a promise from Aizawa: The execution date has been set for thirteen days from today, in July. It is to take place in the US, where his trial will be the fairest that can be bought – were Japan chosen for the execution, the personal connection to the accused would cause an inexcusable bias to ring in Kira's favour, with an overriding possibility that would get free, that he would slip through the state. Anything could happen. However, with the USA owning more victims that anywhere else on Earth, it would be the one place that Kira would certainly find his way on Death Row.
Or a minimum of a life sentence, if the Judge feels unusually generous.
"However," added Yagami, "with all the evidence against Kira, it seems improbable that he'll even be allowed to live – not only do we have a statement, but we also have his P.C, which holds classified police files that he got from hacking into the system, which explains why some unannounced criminals were killed, and how he was able to keep on top of the investigation after all this ti-"
Suddenly, there was a shattering of glass on the floor, and the scraping of a chair against the wood as it was pulled back. Everyone turned their attention from the Chief to the death god next to him, gaping as they saw him stood up, his chest heaving and hands on the table, the hood turned to face Yagami. There was a trail of water on the table, from where it had been sideswiped into Mogi's glass, both tumbling to the ground and ending the journey with a crash.
"Shut. Up." Just like that: It wasn't quite a shout – he didn't need to – but the gravity and tone of the words was enough. Kira's voice was an electronically synthesized garble, bouncing around a room blessed with such good acoustics and electronic speakers. Those of you lucky enough to have heard L's own synthesized voice will be assured that it were scrambled in the same manner.
Turning his head away from the startled Police Chief and to his shocked crowd, he addressed us. You could imagine his eyes glaring at us, glowing red underneath that hood. "I don't need a flock of L's parrots to speak for me like I'm not even here. I will answer your questions, but I will not stay quiet. Not for another moment." Giving a small sigh, his head dropped slightly, allowing the reporters to swarm.
"Mr Kira, oh Mr Kira! Why did you kill so many? And why criminals? Can you recall to us your first victim?"
"Is Kira really an organisation, or is he just one person? Did you have any helpers?"
"Do you know how many you've actually killed? Can you really control your victims?"
Like a musical conductor, he held out his gloved hands, gesturing for a silence that he received at once. Holding up his head, you can imagine him smiling at this point. "Please, please," he said, like a charming celebrity, "give me chance."
A short pause, and then he continued, answering our questions, "Kira is indeed just one person – me. I was Kira from the beginning, and even now I am he. I have only had one helper, but I'll never need one again."
Picking up a pace, he suddenly became a devilish priest, delivering a hateful sermon, "The world was rotting, and if there is one truth, it's that you all needed me, needed someone to clean up a mess that you just publicised like gossip. A mess you fuelled just to get richer, while thousands died of neglect or crime. Rich men who can't get to Heaven! And yet, I chose to guide you to a utopia I dreamt for you. If you'd allowed, that dream would be a reality, a reality barely beyond our reach even now!
"I punished thousands of criminals, dealt out heart attacks, but often I gave retribution through other means. Kurou Otoharada, a Kira victim who took a school hostage, was my first, a mere test subject who came gift-wrapped on live Television. Takuo Shibuimaru, a small-time harasser, died through a traffic accident, also my doing. He was my only regret.
"But that means nothing, nothing to you worms, because none of you will change your ways, not one of you will repent and become good people! I desperately hoped that I wasn't already too late when I started, that maybe, just maybe there would be a lasting effect, that the world would become clean, that sacrificing my time and own wellbeing would be a large enough price for you scum!" His hands were clenched on the table, and he was yelling, preaching eternal torment in slightly accents English.
Finally, he shrunk back, no longer bent over but straight, "But no," he sneered, voice only managing a whisper, "I was the only willing martyr for this failed existence, the only one who could be, yet it wasn't enough, was never enough! Had I never become so sickened by your evil, hadn't felt the need to clean it up, you'd still be causing evil! Had I done nothing, just remained bored and depressed, and never lifted a finger… I would've killed myself by now, become another victim of the motions… I've given myself for you all, expecting no thanks in return, but-" his rant ceased, and he began to cough loudly, extending a fist to where his should be.
The coughs were loud and wet, as though there was something lodged in his throat. Bending over, he coughed further, he body racked with gurgling spasms as the Task Force did nothing – save for Yagami, who lifted a hand to Kira's back, only for it to be slapped away by Aizawa.
The force of the next cough was so great, that his hood flew from the top of his head, revealing his head to be covered in bandages, and he wore a wireless headset, just like the detectives. Not a strand of hair could be seen through the bandages, if he had any, but there were slits in the fabric just large enough for him to see through and yet not have his eyes seen by mortal; and slits just large enough for his nostrils and mouth. The bandages were so thick, that any distinguishing features such as his nose or cheekbones, that should've been seen, weren't – nothing that could distinguish him as any one person of any one ethnicity.
A clever ploy by L, I presume.
He stopped long enough to look at his hands, not yet noticing the red stain that was soaking into the white cloth at his mouth. Pointing a finger at the crowd, he fixed us with a cold iron glare. "You… You insects don't know how lucky you are!"
With those famous last words, his hands shook, and he pulled off the gloves, revealing long-fingered, light golden hands, which threw the gloves to the ground, his hands pulling off the headset before reaching for the cloak around him in frenzy, struggling to pull it off, shredding it with long fingernails.
Pausing, his breath was erratic-looking, even from my seat. Bending over quickly, he grabbed a notepad of paper and a pencil on the table, proceeding to scribble something down, writing quickly – he knew, as well as I do now, that he'd soon be robbed of the ability.
Once finished, he put down the pencil with shaking hands, and slid the notepad to the left, to Touta Matsuda's side of the table. Suddenly bent double, hands clutching the stomach, he coughed up fresh blood onto the table, the Task Force jumping back to their feet in horror. We gasped and jumped back as well, not one of us willing to get in the way of a deadly, death-racked creature, merely signal to remind the Camera Men to keep on filming.
He claw3ed away at the bandages around his head, screaming as though suffocating, tearing the bandages away to show glimpses of chestnut brown hair, and brown eyes that were crying blood. The screams were becoming muted, merely gurgles of blood. Bloody, panicked, and undignified.
Just like a human.
As blood leaked from all visible orifices, and he tried to scream in protest, trying to tear away yet more of the restrictive clothing, someone struggled out of the confused swarm of photographers and journalists, trying to force their way to the front while all else just tried to hang back.
He was a strange stooping man, possibly in his late teens to early twenties, with messy black hair and large dark eyes that were stained black underneath them. He was wearing a white, semi-formal dress shirt and black slacks, an outfit that was unbecoming of him, considering his slouch, so it was probably just for disguise, a way to keep undercover.
By the time he'd reached the front and out of the crowd, Kira was no doubt doomed. Blood was soaking into the hardwood as he staggered, and there was so much blood coming out of him that it was a miracle he hadn't gone sooner. Before we knew it, Kira was falling to the ground, almost caught in a slow motion for the moments before he landed.
Reaching the panel, the stranger was by his side, holding him with care in his arms. While those of us who possessed rose-tinted spectacles would not have been able to see the blood, only the reverent care and tenderness, the blood was all most of us could focus on.
Kira lay on the stranger's knelt down lap now, shivering, whimpering, reaching his arms up to the man, while the man angled the hand holding the back of Kira's bandaged head, hiding the dying man's face from view as he gently tore away at the bandages over his face, treating him with the care an International Serial Killer did not deserve, not ever.
With his remaining strength, Kira managed to hook his arms around the man's neck, as though he knew him, pulling his head up to the stranger's ear, in which he seemed to whisper. The Conference Room was almost silent now, in respect for the martyr, and I could almost hear every word even from my position near the back. I would've dictated those words to you, dear reader, were I fluent in the language in which they were spoken.
As he whispered, the man began to undress him of the tattered cloak, and of the platform shoes and shoulder pads that had hidden his form, freeing him for a more comfortable death.
Finally, with movements like a rusting toy, Kira moved his head, and so did the stranger, their heads so close that they were probably touching. Slowly allowing himself to let go, his grip slid away, along with his life.
Blood-stained, the dragged out dying came to an end with his final breath, laying on the knelt lap of a man he probably knew. Yagami, then standing, slid back into his chair, a hand over his mouth, holding back the form of emotion that hits all who witnesses a sudden death. Even I, a woman who has witnessed and relayed some of the most tragic moments in contemporary US history, was saddened by this display, and I wouldn't write any further, had I not pledged to fully write down every detail on this case for you.
This pathetic end to bloody glory.
In a mournful manner, the now blood-stained stranger slowly removed the rest of the4 bandages from around the head, and picking up the body bridal style; he – in one swift motion – swiped everything off the table, heaving the body onto it. Picking up the huge Kira plaque, he placed it in front of the body for all to see, turning the open-eyed head to stare into the audience.
Kira was a young man, not even 20 years old by estimation. He was a handsome Japanese lad, a peaceful look gracing his blood-stained face, empty, once rich brown eyes glaring vacantly at us. His hair was straight, but unkempt and meeting the shoulders. Chestnut brown, it showed signs of having, once upon a time, been shiny and well groomed. Dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, his slim, even skinny form was accentuated by them. His feet were bare, and his ankles were handcuffed together, with nothing but a five-inch chain between each cuff.
Kira was no more than a teenager, a child with an overriding sense of Justice, who'd felt the need to save us pathetic grown-ups. It's shaming, really.
Looking up at the crowd from behind this table, the stranger showed his mouth to be as stained red as the teenager's. With his hands in his pockets, he gave a piercing black-eyed stare, and addressed us all. "Journalists, reporters, cameramen," he said, his eloquent voice hinting a British accent, "now that Kira is dead, I thin k it may be the right time to reveal the identity."
Facing us all, he told us the truth: Kira's true name was Light Yagami. The only son of the Police Chief Soichiro Yagami, he was just 18 years old at the end of his life. A genius among genii, and a natural manipulator and conman, very few people, if any, knew that he was, in truth, bored and isolated, depressed by the simplicity of his life, the lack of a challenge. While others found him to be perfect, wanting for nothing, he would've committed suicide had he not become Kira.
This man, 'Ryuga', was a dear friend of Light, his intellectual equal who had been both in his classes at University and on the case with him, both of them honorary members of the Kira Task Force (even though neither of them were employed by the NPA). Even he, like the rest of the Task Force, did not realise that the Kira they sought was within the Force itself, not until the arrest, not until just now. Like Soichiro, he refused to believe it even then, preferring to think of him as guilty by association, or perhaps even framed.
"But," Ryuga said, winding his way to a close, "He [Soichiro Yagami] never wished to witness the execution, but here we are: Lies spoken, promises broken, and one more victim of a world that will not learn."
Strolling over to the end of the table, and picking up the now blood-spattered notepad off the floor, he returned to his post, pausing only to rub at a drop of blood that decorated the bottom left corner. "If I may, I will leave you with this note, which has been addressed to all of you."
What he said next as he read off the note will never leave me, as I am sure it will never leave any of the witnesses to this event, nor you.
As the room became deathly silent once more, he read out the note, leaving us confused, unsure, unable to process it. And so, when he finished, Ryuga picked up the body of our most phenomenal Kira, he held him bridal fashion once more, taking the notepad with him. And, just like that, he left us, and we never saw either of them again. You may like to think that they'd ascended to Heaven, were it not suddenly such a preposterous idea.
Nevertheless, wasn't there so much more to this display than what can be seen on the surface? Is this Ryuga, Light 'Kira' Yagami's dear friend and intellectual equal, Kira's own Judas Iscariot? Who, despite the connection that they no doubt had and nurtured during this intense case, handed his friend over to be killed, knowing that he may never have or find another person like Light Yagami ever again? Even marking him out for the controversial leader he is through something so divinely simple yet complicated as a kiss? Perhaps this really marks out a relationship that reached far beyond the limitations of a platonic friendship, into something altogether more romantic, in which case his betrayal can be seen as something all the more cruel and sinister?
Thanks to L, and of course to Kira, all we can do to answer these questions is investigate; dig out more dirt from the young killer's past than we even thought was there. Check out every emotional tie to every person in his life; read every journal and diary that he kept; watch every surveillance and security tape in existence for every sordid detail of this murderer's life, if only to work out how he killed, find out every possible motive as to why he bloodied his hands in such a manner. Perhaps even to begin to wonder what had been going on between these young men that had led to such an emotional end to such a fantastical case as this Kira Case.
For never, in the whole history of the Human Race, recorded or not, has there been such a terrifying murderer – both a mass murderer and a serial killer, by legal standards – with such a death count caused by one person in so many places, with such an influence over the masses in so short an amount of time.
Yet, for such an awful, notorious monster and angel, there has never been such a golden life torn asunder by a need to play God, by a need to give back in the most questionable and unquestionable of ways. Never has there been such a pathetic and tragic end to a life both lifted and marred by an unsettling moral high ground, deep duplicity, and the mind of a Demonic Judge hidden so well in the body of a mere student, keeping everyone guessing.
A True Monster… and also a True Human by every definition.
With any luck, the questions that this Conference has raised and more will be answered, but for now, this is all we can spare. They say that only in death can one find true peace, and so secrets can be taken to the grave without them ever being revealed. For all of Kira's victims, this will always stand true. However, for this tormenting and equally tormented soul – if we of the media have any say – any secrets and messages will be summoned to the fore, all skeletons dancing out of the closet space.
As for Kira's secrets, for Kira's messages right now, we can be satisfied with his note, a peaceful teaching for his people to follow if nothing else.
"To the world.
There is no Heaven. There is no Hell. Only MU.
After this life, there is no punishment, and no reward, only your memory left in the minds of the living. Lead the best life you can, immortalise yourself in Goodness, and only be remembered by it.
For my memory, give Morning everything, tell her everything, and leave no moment unacknowledged.
Do all this in remembrance of me."
If you please, dear reader, spare a moment for the Yagami family, who have no doubt been cheated and lied to, and forced to contend with events considered both a scandal and a blessing, betrayal, and the death of a much-loved son.
Miss B Bridesmaid, who will from now on be known by her pen name 'Kindd Morning', has been head hunted to write the official book on the Kira Case, which has so far been entitled 'Shinigami – The Kira Case in Entirety', which will not only include the newspaper articles written by herself on the Kira Case, but details of the case that no one else knows as yet. She has also been approached to write the Late Light Yagami's Biography, but she has yet to answer this request and the Yagami family have yet to allow this. The Press Conference is set to air tonight at 7:30PM on NBC, 9:30PN on CBS, and at 1:11am, where you will be able to witness this moment in History as Miss Morning has, and you all will.
Please note, this Press Conference and this article is not for the viewing or reading of anyone under 12 years old with adult supervision or permission, as it contains content that is likely to distress and offend.
Copies of the Press Conference on DVD will be made available in next week's Daily Tribune (please note, this is only available with the Tribune and cannot be sold separately. They are not available for resale, but available to schools for educational viewing purposes).
A/N: So, any thoughts? Please note the proper pronunciation of 'Kindd' is the 'kind' of the German word 'Kinder', or (one we are more familiar with) 'Kindergarten'. The new headline for this 'Long Live Notoriety', to replace 'In Like A Lion And Out Like A Lamb', was another last-minute decision, but one I like. If you preferred the old one, you may as well tell me so.
Now, I think it's safe to say that the inspiration for this story came from a very strange place: Watching the film version of the musical "Chicago" late one night (the one with Zelleweger, of course). By the time I'd finished, the idea for this was in my head and all it took was a few solid weeks sorting out the plot before getting on with it, and then a week of editing this chapter much later on.
Yeah, wasn't that a blast? Ophelia Davis, a great fanfic writer and pal of mine, almost had me have Light dancing on the table singing, "He had it coming, he had it coming, he took a flower in its prime…"
…Yeah…. Not likely. No, but this is how it had to be, and it's fine as it is. Though, if you do have something to say about it, you know to R&R.
Thanks again, I wouldn't have done it without you guys.
Ruin Takada.