DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Seriously, what kinda sicko would think up Death Note from scratch on Christmas Day? XD Character death's bad enough.

Why the hell did they choose a red car?

That's all Matt really wanted to know. 'Cause, like, of all the dumbest ideas, choosing a red car had to be up near the top of the list. Split maybe by the fact that they were even doing this. Kidnap the Takada woman, hold her captive or kill her or something (Mello had skipped the details, just given him the fuckin' eyesore of a beautiful car and told him to shoot and run) and for what? So Near wouldn't snuff it? That was the first thing Matt's mind had jumped to, but he knew not to voice it, otherwise he'd end up with a sharpened chocolate bar sticking out of his eye or something.

Nah, it was probably just 'cause of Kira. Matt kinda hated that guy. Not for killing all those criminals or the world domination thing though – he honestly couldn't care less about that (he had enough safety guards when he hacked and he didn't think there could even be a person in existence anymore that actually knew his real name). No, he hated Kira because of what he'd done to L. What he'd done to Wammy's (made it redundant, that's what; made his best friend leave and subjected him to too many lonely years of petty bank jobs and information cover-ups), and most of all, what it'd done to Mello.

The brow-less idiot had gone walkabout! Then he finally slips up and Matt manages to track him down. He's missing half his face and wearing leather while he sleeps and keeping a goddamn handgun down the back of his pants (Matt kinda wished he didn't know about that).

Go away, Matt; I need your help, Matt; Do you... think you could do one last thing for me?...Matt?

Die for him is what he meant. Like an idiot, he'd said yes.

But as he heard a swerve behind him and the tinny crack of a bullet hitting the bright car's side-panelling, Matt realised he kinda should've been concentrating. He wrenched the steering wheel, pulling a harsh turn and skidding into the next intersection.

Oh shit...

Now, why couldn't Mello have picked a nice, black car, like the ones these goons were driving? Maybe he could've blended in, got away. Jeez, if he had a motorbike like Mello he probably could've hightailed it down an alleyway and be curled up on a hotel couch in another country within a couple of hours.

But, noooo, Mello needed glitzy, Mello needed to stand out, Mello needed to have the best.

He was also completely convinced that Matt'd get away. The ex-redhead (why did he decide green hair dye and in cognito had been necessary again?) had been able to see it in the blonde's pupil-less eyes. Mello really thought Matt would live on and be fine.

Bullshit.

Not with this many fuckin' goons.

With the circle of cars surrounding his hastily parked vehicle, Matt kinda didn't know what to do. He didn't like people at the best of times; now he had thirty or so with big-ass guns trained on his goggles. What do you do when you're about to croak? Curl up and cry? Beat them to it? Bluff?

His third-best-at-Wammmy's mind skittered through the possibilities, dully craving a cigarette in the background, wanting even more to be curled up on the couch with the nice little camera-feeds and his hand-held – but then it sorta struck him.

Overcompensate.

Mello had gotten him in to this, so acting like Mello would damn well get him out of it. Was worth a try at least. As he shifted in the leather seat, Matt felt the cool weight of the handgun pressing against the back of his neck.

When he'd stuck it there, in their last couple of moments before Mello hopped on that bike (so totally not for the last time, they told themselves), the blonde had cocked his head and lifted a hairless brow. The movement enlarged one of his flat eyes and Matt kinda liked how easy it was for his best friend to look crazy. "Interesting place to put a loaded fucking pistol..."

Matt had grinned, eyes disappearing behind a layer of flesh and a layer of orange plastic. "Well, I'm an interesting guy, dont'cha reckon?"

Matt clicked the car door open with a sigh, thanking his goggles for the way they eased the bright red glare that the goons' cars had cast on his own monstrous vehicle.

"Hey, come on! Gimme a break!"

Arm's up.

"Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry around such big guns?"

His cigarette felt kinda strange in his mouth now; less comforting, more poisonous.

"You got me. I'm part of this whole kidnapping incident."

It would be too much to hope the big words confused them. There were so many of them, now that he took a closer look.

"That means you'll have a lot of questions to ask."

He let his hand gently drift towards the pistol, cold now against his skin. Would they even expect him to keep a gun there? Maybe they'd think he was just really bad on the personal hygiene scale? Sitting for weeks in a room with a camera feed probably hadn't left him smelling like roses...

And the icing on the cake...

"You won't shoot-!"

Click. Bang. Dammit.

He saw some goons with black suits and black cars, he saw some flashy gunpowder, some civilians gawking from the street, some stars...

He didn't feel the sharp pain of the handgun smashing into his neck when he hit the bonnet of the garish car though. Didn't feel the blood running down his cheek or the cigarette falling from his lips.

"What an idiot. He probably wouldn't have told us anything anyway. And death is the only way to pay for crimes against Kira."

Despite the melancholy tone I'd like to wish everyone a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS (though it may be slightly early for you American peeps). What can I say? I keep watching Matt's death and it just suddenly struck me today: Why the fuck did they use a red car as their getaway car? Same can be said for Higuchi but he was crackers anyway (even though he was awesome-tastic XD).

So yeah, my take on Matt's last thoughts. And damn it woulda been nice to put some yaoi in there but it honestly wouldn't be that fitting would it? Maybe next time. Mwahahaha. Hope you enjoyed! ^_^