A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see but I am back and hopefully for good. I am sorry I disappeared and the reason is written in my updated profile.
This is my first fanfiction in a long while and this is my first DeathNote fiction. I've been letting my muse run and it keeps coming back to this idea so I hope you enjoy plotful stories with many details. This is the prologue so not much is going to be introduced other than setting and situation. Dramatic future timeline is neccessary for the next chapter. Also, this Post-Kira and I apologize for an ooc L if it occurs. I've never written for him so please forgive me.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters excluding my own that are neccessary for the plot of this fiction to continue.
There had been no previous warning, no specific MO which would and could indicate the next victim to fall at the hands of the London Strangler. All deceased attributed to the serial killer varied in gender, height, hair color and ethnic background. The only thing which stayed the same was location and it was, of course as the name suggests, London, England. And there was the fact that all deaths seemed to have some specific difference besides the strangulation.
All victims were strangled with a standard cable chord with Alcryn instillation which is a common melt-processable rubber. Unlike vulcanized rubber, Alcryn processes with the ease of a plastic for tremendous cost savings. It requires no curing, pre-drying, or other time-consuming steps prior to processing, and it processes on standard plastics machinery. Therefore, it is inexpensive and not especially hard to find. No way to trace to specific buyers and no specialist retailers.
The Strangler simply had no qualms about leaving the material behind and left with the victims. Yet, instead of the material being strewn across the floor or left around the neck of the body, it was rolled and placed carefully in the hand which was then enclosed around it.
The color of the chords varied as well but that was neither here nor there and yet, it was significant somehow. I was sure of it and the reason for this was due to the fact that, as haphazard and quickly able to be discarded the information was, I was able to see the unique pattern that all chords left with the victims was intended to match the color of their eyes. And this also varied by the intensity of the eye color. Could this be how he's choosing the victims? But how do you determine whose eyes he would favor?
Digging through the mess on the coffee table in front of me, the absurdity of the situations was beginning to point to the fact that he was choosing whomsoever for their eye-color. If that was all we had to go on then, well, for lack of better vernacular, the people in my own back yard were royally screwed. I did take comfort, if that is the appropriate term at this moment, that all victims ranged from their mid-thirties to early-forties. That gave me something to work with.
Finally procuring my neglected confection which had been half obscured by the paperwork and evidence of my earlier misgivings, I sat back on the leather-high back which I'd been in since early the previous morning. It was now 3am and in the span of a few hours the sounds of Whammy House would come alive. It would most likely do me well to relax a moment as my head was spinning with all the new information of the investigation.
I had been finished with my cake slice for some time and had managed to even calm my thoughts, file and categorize all the evidence and information of the case reports when a small cooing noise alerted me. I immediately looked to the clock and noticed that it was nearly 6 in the morning, not unusual for him to be up at this hour. In a moment I knew that a soft patter of small feet would make its trail to me and that within in moments I would have an armful of a small prodigy. Despite the fact I still didn't like the touch of people in general, it was alright in this situation.
Like clockwork all the aforementioned came to pass. It started with a soft tug on my white, three-quarter sleeve, and then a small yawn. I glanced out the corner of my eye, making sure he had seen that today, I would be a bit stubborn. A smirk made its way to my face as the irritation was evident on the small face. Another tug, harder this time, and a glare to accompany it.
"Yes?" I said aloud, hoping I sounded as though I was irritated by his presence.
He wasn't fooled, oh no, this six year old knew I was wrapped around his finger. And he let me know it too as his own mouth curved into a smirk of its own. Looking at him I tried to glare but the little delinquent somehow found a foothold by tugging a large lock of my own black hair, using my unbalance at the surprise to his advantage; arms were instantly around my neck and locked.
Snorting at the audacity of the little one, I finally gave in and pulled him completely into my lap. Never in my life had I ever known such a loving child. Large, dark green eyes stared back at me with an amused and victorious air. "Happy now?" A small nod had started but then briefly stopped and a more thoughtful expression appeared. Finally those green eyes looked back at me and then at the empty plate on the coffee table.
"Oh no. No sweets in the morning, if you're hungry you can eat when all the children go down to Bossard Hall at seven." A small huff and, first furrowed, then one raised black eyebrow was facing me as if to say…Then what are you doing eating them at this hour?
A rapping on the door disrupted my musings as the door opened to reveal Whammy. He looked considerably older these days but despite the more recent thinning of his once thick white hair, he maintained a regality that contradicted these signs of aging.
He glanced at me as my legs were crossed instead of being tucked beneath me as always and to the obvious factor for this. He smiled kindly and motioned for the child to come with.
"Come now," said the heavy accent, his was the Queen's English, "Let us allow to him finish his work."
Reluctantly the child unwound himself and plopped softly to the floor. Walking towards Whammy I took a moment, like so many before, to appraise the child who was, as guessed, mine. His hair was thickly black and just a bit longer than what mine used to be at that age. The body was smaller than most at his age but he was more than half as tough as children older. He pattered across the floor in his light colored jams and took the old hand. One last look at me with the eyes which were not like my own and he was out the door to get ready for breakfast and the new day.
Sighing, I tried to immerse myself back into my work but I was already distracted thinking about my son. He was not like me in the sense he did not share my own imperfections with social awkwardness. He was very social, enjoyed the attention of others and, indeed, was well liked by the rest of the orphanage. Incredibly intelligent too.
That made me especially proud. He was a problem solver and at an even younger age he was able to go toe-toe with my ex-successor, Near, in a game of patterns. As a result of his own astonishment, Near placed a small puzzle ring into my sons hand as a prize. Though it is too large for him to wear at the moment, he does have it on a small chain around his smaller neck.
A dark green chord wrapped around that very pale neck popped its ugly self into my brain and I had to shake off the shiver it gave me. I had to get this case solved. Something foreboding crept into the edges of my consciousness and refused to be subdued until I stood up and walked out the door to check on Whammy and the child dubbed J.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the short prologue. They are always short but my chapters are fairly long. Please R&R constructively with questions or even suggestions. I enjoy help with grammer and words I may not have noticed.
Don't worry, his son is not going to dominate the story as I have no intention of allowing an OC to be the main character. You'll see why he exists soon enough.
