The first chapter of "Blood Runs Cold." I do not own Death Note nor do I own any of its characters. But I do own Naima Kurosugo, and other things that of my own creation, of course...
Death
As defined by the North America English Encarta Dictionary:
a) The act of dying; the end of life; the total and permanent cessation of all the vital functions of an organism
b) Extinction; destruction
c) Bloodshed or murder
d) Image of death: a personification of death usually represented as a ghostly or of skeleton holding a scythe.
All of these definitions seem correct, no? Except for the last one, up until now, that definition has stayed the same. Everyone's image of death was that of the Grim Reaper. When it was your time to go, he would appear to you. An unsettling air about him, chilling your every fiber right down to the bone; his black cloak; shielding his skeletal face from those he was to reap, and his silver scythe, perhaps covered in blood, depending on your depiction of him. But as I said earlier, this representation of death is no longer what it has been before. The new vision of death is that of the underhanded murderer named Kira.
Kira is justice to some, the icon of fear to others. But in any sense, to me he's just another immoral criminal. He goes off on his own judgment, trying to be god. How can any person in their right mind believe that, that was justice? This brings me to the point in time we are in right now. A bleak, desolate world, sitting there, right outside my window. It takes all the energy in my body to heave myself off my bed and to the window. What was the point of getting up every morning? If the only thing to look forward to was fearful men, hoping to be forgiven for their crimes, and dim-witted Kira supporters, walking the streets of Japan. But today I have a job to do.
My name is Naima Kurosugo. I'm a hired contract killer, or assassin for you simple folk. Now, you are probably asking yourself, how I can hate Kira so much for killing others when I, myself, am a murderer. A bit hypocritical, don't you think? Well the difference between Kira and I is quite simple really. I do not deem myself to be God by passing the right of judgment over others and eradicating them in a cowardly manner. And plus, I like to be more "hands on," if you know what I mean.
I've been lying in bed all afternoon, just waiting for the time to pass so I can leave the cramped apartment I call home. Quickly getting dressed in my "work clothes," I laugh to myself at this; I head out to the quickly darkening streets. I always walk to my destination when I have a job to do, that way they have no way of tracing any sort of car back to me. As I walk, the adrenaline starts kicking in, two years of having this as my job and it still makes adrenaline pulse through my veins.
I make my way into the bad part of town, the side where dirty tricks stand on every corner, and where even the children are corrupt with greed. I come to a stop in front of a dirty looking bar. The sign read "Rusty's", but it looked more like "Crusty's" if you ask me. I walk into the bar; a few dirty bums look up at me, but quickly turn back to their alcoholic drinks. Clearly, the man that I am there for has not yet arrived, so I take a seat at the far side of the bar.
"What'll it be Miss?" The bartender asks me, all the while wiping down the area in front of me with that cliché dirty rag that every bar has.
"Nothing tonight, I'm meeting someone." I reply, a gentle smile balancing on my lips.
"Well, if you need anything, just holler and I'll be right over." He answers back with a friendly wink. I watch as he strolls over to tend to another customer sitting at the bar. Out of the corner of my eye I see something, or, well, someone. It was a blonde haired guy; he's quite young, and wearing all leather. He's staring at me, and isn't even trying to hide it. On any other night I would just approach him, maybe started a conversation. Curiosity usually gets the best of me, but I'm here on business tonight. I'll just have to deal with the staring for the time being. He continues to observe me and takes a bite of what seems to be a bar of chocolate. Just as I'm about get up and say something to him. A drunkard man stumbles through the door.
Time to go to work.
This was the man I was hired to "dispose of." Shimobe Koedaki, charged with the rape and murder of 16-year-old Midori Kodomogawa. He was released, due to "lack of evidence." But it is quite obvious that he did it, and many believe that government bribery was involved. I've been hired by the father to give this man what he deserves. A horrid, and rather painful death.
Koedaki walks over to the bar and quite rudely orders an expensive drink. The bartender quickly gives him his drink, and Koedaki in return throws the money in his face. He then walks over to a dimly lit booth and makes himself comfortable.
Perfect.
I stand from my seat at the bar, and head towards Koedaki's table, passing the leather clad blonde on the way. He smirks as I pass by, as if he knows what is going to happen next. Oh, well, he doesn't look like one to rat; I'll let him enjoy the show. As I get closer to Koedaki's table, I slip on my special "work gloves."
Oh how much fun this will be.
"Mind if I join you?" I ask him in a slightly playful voice.
"A woman as beautiful as yourself? Not at all." As I take a seat across from him, I feel his greedy eyes on me, ogling at me like a hunger-stricken animal. He reeks of Menthols and cheap scotch, it churns my stomach.
But it'll soon be over.
"So sweetie, what's your name?" His voice is so raspy, almost like the skritching of a steel nail carving unknown letters into wood.
"I'm Itsumo, Itsumo Tomogawa."
"Itsumo, huh? Beautiful name. I'm Shimobe Koedaki."
"So I've heard." I spot his drink sitting there right in front of him; just close enough for me to reach.
Too Perfect.
"What exactly was it you heard?" A crooked grin creeps across his face.
"Oh, many, many, wonderful, things." I say, putting extra emphasis on the word "wonderful." I reach my hand over and start circling the rim of his glass with my finger. Little does he know, the "special" gloves I'm wearing, are laced with a toxic amount of potassium cyanide. One of the deadliest poisons available on the market. Once ingested, the victim loses consciousness within fifteen seconds; death follows in mere minutes from cardiac arrest. Now the all the greedy bastard has to do is take a drink, and I can ditch this joint.
"Well sweet cheeks, lets blow this joint and I'll show you all the "wonderful" things I have to offer." The thought of this man touching me, makes me sick to my stomach.
"Ooh, but first, a toast, for "wonderful" things to come."
It's so close, I can feel it.
"But you don't have a drink to toast me with." Damn! I forgot that small element. Crap, I'll make something up.
"Oh, silly me. Oh well, I don't need a drink in me." I say as I run my finger down the side of his face, and onto his lips. Good, more cyanide in his system. I sit back and watch as he chugs his drink. After finishing it, he slams the glass on the table, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. All that was left to do was wait.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go." He impatiently asks.
"Just one more thing." I lean in close to him; the smell of whiskey lingers on his breath. I grab his collar, pulling him close, as if to kiss him. Boy was he in for a surprise. As our faces inch closer, his arousal get more and more apparent. I stop an inch away from his face; I look him right in the eyes and whisper in my most seductive voice, "Burn in hell."
I back up, just so I can watch the reaction on his face. He stares at me, his face tainted with the look of disbelief and hatred, but as the seconds pass by, it slowly contorts to that of immense pain. I watch as his eyes slowly roll back in their sockets, bloody foam spills from his mouth.
My work is done.
I calmly stand up, so as to not make a scene. I remove my gloves and dispose of them in a near by trashcan. The body of Koedaki slowly rolls under the table; I don't think he'll be discovered for a while. I pass by the table where the chocolate eating guy was sitting earlier, but he is nowhere in sight. Oh well, I really doubt he went and ratted on me. As I approach the bar I see the bartender take out an envelope. He places it on the bar and I quickly sneak it into my jacket. I take a quick peek just to make sure of its contents. 75k in cash, just like we agreed. It'll keep me living quite comfy for the next few months. The bartender's name; Taro Kodomogawa.
Midori's father.
Quickly I make my way towards the exit, re-pocketing my money along the way. Stepping out into the street, I realize it was quite dark now. Soon the hookers and drug dealers would crawl out from their domiciles and roam the dirty streets, looking for a way to make some quick cash. I decide to head for home; I'll enjoy my money tomorrow. As I begin walking down the street, I hear footsteps behind me. I think nothing of it; I mean I have a knife, a gun, and more chloroform hidden on me. What? You think that I would even leave my house and head into a corrupt city without any of this? Yea, right. It's nothing I can't handle. I run the days events in my head, just to make sure I hadn't left any detail out, when something suddenly pulls me into a dark alley and slams me face first into a brick wall.
"What the-" I attempt to yell, but a gloved hand quickly covers my mouth.
"Oh no you don't." I feel the assailant grab both of my arms and apparently zip-tie them. "I saw the little move you pulled back there. Quite sneaky. "I attempt to wriggle out of his grip, but to no avail.
"Well, I didn't want to resort to this, but if you won't go quietly… Matt come here." My face is still pushed up against the wall, and it's quite dark, I can't see whom my assailants are, but quickly one of their identities is made clear. The air lingers of a distinctive smell.
Chocolate.
It's the leather-clad blonde from inside the bar. But what does he want with me? My time to contemplate the various reasons, is cut short when a rag, damp with a sweet smelling liquid is placed over my nose and mouth. I feel very tired suddenly. My eyes feel heavy, and my legs give out, letting me fall to the ground. Slowly I fall out of consciousness, leaving the shadows of the waking world and entering a completely new kind of darkness all together.
Damn it chloroform.