Disclaimer: Okay, okay, I don't own it! Even so, you can't take L away from me! *huggles L plushie*
A/N: I know, I know, I said I'd be taking a break for a while, but this little fic wouldn't give me peace until I wrote at least a bit of it . And to think I had to take a break from the fic I took a break for from FaaW… Honestly, my attention span sucks T_T
So, I don't know where this one came from and I have absolutely NO idea where it's going, but it kept jabbing at my brain for one; and second, I promised blueberry-90 a fic a while ago (she knows what I'm talking about, through it's pretty deviated from my original idea XD) So, blueberry-90, this chappie is dedicated to you :)
I don't know when – or even if – I will continue this, since I'm lacking a plot, aside from fractured of ideas I've got and some weird influences from 'V for Vendetta' (and I DON'T want to copy .) but I'd be glad to do my best if you guys like it :)
-
-
-
Forget It
Chapter 1
Contact
-
-
-
Darkness.
That was the first thing he noticed every time he regained consciousness. The room was pitch black. Next followed the strangled moans of miserable people, the cries of dirty, barefoot children, searching fruitlessly for their mothers, and the clatter of chains dragged on stone.
He got up on all fours and crawled to the corner of the cell, trying to block out the sufferance and confusion of newcomers. He hated the newbies. They cried continuously for a long while and tried to get the others to talk to them. He didn't want to be dragged into anyone's misery when his own was quite enough.
Curling his legs under him, careful not to reopen the more recent cuts, he started biting his already damaged nails. He didn't know when he's picked up the habit. It was disgusting and his hands were permanently dirty. Shrugging to himself, he guessed it was back when he still felt nervous or even scared of the whole situation. A long time had passed since that, but he still found himself in need of such a primitive, yet familiar gesture every once in a while.
The cell's door opened with a sharp cry of rusty hinges and an ocean of artificial light invaded its inhabitants. Only in the soft, yellow glow could the true damage be seen. Terrified, dirty faces with unshaven cheeks, pale women with flowery bruises on their skin, children with thin rags to cover their nakedness; all dragging themselves further into the darkness, afraid of what the light could bring.
…all those creatures that have lost hope to even call themselves human.
Two silhouettes entered the cell and the blinding light disappeared after them. A flashlight took its place, faint glow surveying the cell as if searching for someone. The ragged creatures hid as much as they could, not wanting to let the light show the fear in their eyes.
"Excuse the filth, sir. They like to make a mess of themselves," the guardian's hoarse voice sliced through the darkness where the flashlight couldn't. "Told you, I could have brought him to you in the waiting room –"
"That's alright. I would like to see him myself," the other man's soft voice answered in and obviously fake Japanese accent. American maybe? They weren't that uncommon, after all.
The flashlight stopped on the boy in the corner, curled in a ball, and the two outsiders stepped to him, not sparing the other prisoners a second glance. A strong hand grabbed a flock of dirty, brown hair, dragging the lone prisoner to his feet.
He was not able to see the foreigner's face, only his well-groomed blue suit. The guardian's face, on the other hand, was fully visible with its balding scalp, yellow teeth, and beady eyes, sparkling with cruelty.
The flashlight danced all over the boy's body, making sure to expose every cut, bruise and cigarette mark that punctuated it.
The foreigner pulled a piece of paper from his coat and glanced between it and the boy's face several times. Did he have that many specific instructions that he had to write them down? An elegant, well manicured hand appeared from the darkness, grabbed the boy's face and twisted it so that he was looking directly into the light. Satisfied with what he saw, the foreigner quickly left go, as if burned.
As the paper was slipped back into the silky insides of the coat, an assortment of bright colours briefly danced in the light. A photograph?
"Ah, that's a nice one. Never had any complains about him," the guardian babbled on, trying to promote his goods. A second hand grabbed his face, twisting it in a different direction. "He must've had a pretty face not long ago, but that doesn't exactly matter now, does it? I'm told he did any housework exemplary. And… he wasn't half bad with other stuff either, if you know what I mean." A cruel chuckle.
The other cleared his throat uncomfortably. "What about his last master?"
"Oh, I heard he messed with the wrong people and got silenced when he stepped in the other side of the town. He was anti, you know. His sister didn't know what to do with this little guy," a slap in the back of the head, "so she sent him back here."
"I understand. How much to you want for him?"
"Well, I usually charge much more, but since you said it's your first one, I'll give him to you for just five thousand dollars." Liar. That was nearly twice the normal price.
"It can be arranged." The foreigner did not give any sign that he knew or cared about being ripped off. "Lastly, can you please confirm the name again?"
"Sure, wait a minute."
The guardian revealed the folder he had been keeping under his arm and started turning the pages, index finger dragging itself downwards through the list of names and pictures. Around the half of the fourth page it stopped.
"Yagami Light."
The foreigner just nodded.
"Alright, I'll take him."
-
-
-
Despite his mind's blankness, Light's body had trouble relaxing.
The immaculate interior of the limousine speeding down the street only made him more conscious about the pathetic state his body was in. His feet, covered in dirt and dried blood, felt nearly blasphemous on the white interior carpet, his clasped hands rested neatly in his lap, not daring to touch anything, and his eyes examined his surroundings subtly, careful not to look at his new… master.
Light had been more than surprised when the foreigner had taken off the cuffs keeping his hands and feet tied and asked him to enter the limousine. At first he'd thought he was already expected to prove how capable he was at the 'other stuff' the guardian had mentioned. But the other man had barely spared him a glance after entering the car beside him.
Concentrating on keeping the tremble out of his hands, he turned to the window and stared out at the scenery of Kanto. Or what was left of it.
The few buildings strong enough to not have withered way were heavily damaged, displaying broken windows, caved in roofs, even entire levels drowned into the heart of the earth. Few dared to enter a building anymore, as they could find the not yet detonated explosives still hidden in its entrails.
An image of a specific house appeared before Light's eyes. A plain, beige house with mediocre furniture and soft, polite chatter rebounding from its walls. A house hosting a certain room on its second floor, a room hosting a desk in its corner, a desk hosting a set of drawers, a drawer hosting –
NO!
His fingers itched for the familiar sensation of being raised to his mouth to bite the remains of his pitiful nails, but he resisted the sensation. It was bad enough that he was so out of sorts in the current situation, he didn't need to further make a fool of himself.
But why did he still need pride, after all? After all, it had been his downfall –
The car stopped just as his left hand was halfway to his lips. He quickly disguised it by scratching his other arm, then cursed himself for seeming even more ill-mannered than he was probably perceived to be.
The foreigner turned to him from the other side of the seat and Light could see himself reflected in the other's dark sunglasses. He truly looked dreadful.
"Well, we've arrived, Mr. Yagami," the man said emotionlessly.
Light was so concerned with the reflection of the fading green bruise on his cheek that he barely paid heed to the words. When he did, the first thing that registered was the obvious American accent, along with the appellative "Mr." The next thing he noticed –
"E-Excuse me? Sir?" he nearly bit his tongue to punish himself. He always forgot the 'sir' and it had never done him any good.
But, most important of all, why was he, a mere slave used for housework and entertainment, bought like an animal, addressed respectfully?
"Just enter this building and take the first door on the right on the third floor. Everything will be explained. I still have some business to attend to, but you will be alright by yourself won't you?"
Light nodded. There was little else he could do, after all. He opened the car's door and exited. He was still barefoot, so the hot asphalt burned his feet in the dying afternoon as he took step after step into the building he had been shown. He vaguely heard the limousine leaving with a motor's soft purr.
The building had once been tall; fifteen, maybe even twenty floors in total. Most of the lower windows had exploded but the glass had been long ago swept from the ground. The missing chunks of concrete from the roof were nowhere to be seen. There was no visible sign of the anguish the construction had suffered maybe not so long ago, aside from one thing.
It reeked of death.
The elevators inside had been completely destroyed. The metallic doors had been removed and, through the safety net placed to prevent accidents, Light could see the black abyss of hell itself.
Nothingness. That was hell.
The marble stairs were still intact, through obvious blocks of concrete and railing were sewn together in a varied assortment of colours. The cameras and bugs, staring down at him cruelly and catching his every breath, had been recently replaced, but the wallpaper remained chapped and the carpets remained burned.
The wooden door in front of Light, first on the right of the third floor, was frail and blackened. The hinges displayed their flowers of rust proudly and the knob squeaked when he turned it.
What was that place?
The room he entered had been designed to look as comfy as possible, despite the glaring damages. The carpet had been cleaned, through streaks of blackwash could still be noticed; new expensive-looking furniture had been brought and arranged in the centre, next to a cosy fireplace; dark, heavy curtains hid the replaced windows from view. A dozen glowing computers mockingly countered the room's homey appearance.
The fresh smell of lilies, trapped in a vase behind a stack of books, and the inviting perfume of peaches placed on the coffee table couldn't beat the faint scent of burnt flesh and fabrics, forever impregnated in the decaying walls.
Why had he been brought there? The place was half destroyed and certainly not liveable for long. The building could cave in any minute, for crying out loud!
And all those cameras… all those cameras watching his every move that very moment, stealing his every blink… who were these people?
In his haste of counting all the cameras in the room he didn't hear the door of an adjoining room creak open, neither a peach being lifted from its bowl and tossed into the air at regular intervals for a short while. When he saw a shadow dancing on the wall in front of him he turned around.
The effect was instantaneous. Adrenaline pumped in his entire body and blood reddened his cheeks. His fingers started shaking, desperate to be lifted to his lips. His eyes widened unnaturally.
In front of him… In from of him stood a dead man. A dead man staring at him and biting from a peach.
"You…"
"We still have a case to solve, Light-kun," L said as he chewed the fruit, unaffected. "Did you not vouch to catch Kira?"
Kira…
Kira.
-
"Light-kun?"
"Yes?"
"Could you please pass me the sugar?"
"Get it yourself, Ryuzaki."
"But it is within your arm reach, Light-kun."
"That means it's not much of a bother for you to get up and get it. I'm in the middle of something."
"Light-kun has been very hardworking in the past few weeks."
"Yes."
"May I inquire why?"
"Because… we're going to catch Kira. Together, right Ryuzaki?"
-
-
-
A/N: So, did it confuse you to no end? If so, thank you, I've tried my best XD The whole idea was to give you an image of Light's confused state of mind. If you really want a hint, then I'll mention that the title is a pun. A huge one XD
I just remembered how I got the plot bunny. I was reading Fahrenheit 451 and fell in love with the whole 'post-apocalyptic scene' at the end of the novel XD
Please review if you liked it, it makes my day :)