B walked around the streets of Los Angeles quiet as death, which he would bring to his unlucky victim tonight. At the thought, he inwardly smirked, careful to keep his face calm to avoid suspicions from anyone. His eyes darted above people's heads seeing all of their names and lifespans as clear as day. No one seemed close to dying yet though.
Oh death...
How was it he was cursed with the eyes to see only death, dying. It tormented him to no end. He knew when his mother would die, and his father, but he couldn't stop it from happening. All he could do was sit back and watch it all happen. He wasn't there to see his father's death but he certainly saw his mother's. He was there when the train they were on crashed unexpectedly. He had wondered, being that he was very young, why almost everyone on the train had low numbers but his mother shushed him. She reminded him that no one else could see the numbers and that they had meant nothing.
But they did.
His mother was seated next to the window at the time of her death. The train didn't slow down enough in time to make a rather sharp turn, so it tipped over. Everyone fell over to his mother's (and his) side of the train. He had expected it so he ducked under the seat before anything happened, before the train had tipped over. He urged his mother to join him but she scorned him for being ridiculous. She was crushed because of the weight of everyone else on top of her. B was almost completely unharmed but kept calling his mother's name before he leaned against the floor (which was vertical now and against his back) and crying because he didn't get a response.
He knew who was dead and who wasn't already, but the only person he could think of was his mother. She was dead. He couldn't save her. Even if she'd gotten under the seat with him, she would've died either way. That was the real reason he cried until he was rescued. The very fact he couldn't save her from her fate. Needess to say that he was orphaned and sent to Wammy's House. That hell hole. He didn't hate it so much until his best friend, A, committed suicide. Then B couldn't take it anymore and ran away. After years of planning, he came up with this murder case.
He would beat L at his own game.
To make L pay for what he did to A.
Then, to cover it up, B would commit suicide as well.
Meaning that this case he started would be vitrually impossible to solve. Especially with the extremely difficult clues he was leaving. He'd already sent the crossword puzzle to the LAPD, and they didn't seem to have been able to figure it out according to his sources.
Everything is going perfectly, B thought to himself. He dug his hands in his pockets, feeling now warm metal of his pocket knife in his left pocket and the capped needle in his right pocket. He couldn't help but let his lips twitch, begging to smirk. But no, he couldn't smirk when he was walking around all of these people. He had to keep his cool.
Keep his mask.
Like L does.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
End prologue.
So this is just recapping to before B's first murder and what was going through his head...FILLER! SORREH! T.T Next chapters will be better! I promise!