A/N: Dear Reader,

This was written originally as a one-shot, and can be read as a one-shot. However, I will be bringing the story to a close in Part 2, if you are so inclined to read it. I appreciate all reviews, and thank you for your time. Enjoy!

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"Look, we ain't idiots, give us the information first and then we'll give you the cash." Karson, an executive from the mafia-style gang, Lightning, impatiently explained to the quivering informant standing in front of him.

The informant was making Karson feel a bit edgy—not nervous, Karson never felt nervous, no one had ever given him cause to—he was constantly glancing over his shoulder and mumbling some nonsense about "the sweeper."

"Hey! It's not every day someone betrays The Family, alright?! Especially with information on Big Daddy! So get off my back!" the informer shouted.

These 'Family' creeps make me sick. Karson thought with disgust. Their stupid mantra about "Never betray The Family", "Traitors die a traitor's death"... It's like incest! And it makes it too stinkin' hard to get information on the loons. Especially info on Big Daddy: no one outside of The Family even knows what the guy looks like!

But now, at last, a member of the Inner-Family was ready to betray the Patriarch himself in exchange for 500,000,000 yen and a position of power in Lightning when it surpassed The Family as the leading crime syndicate in Japan. Little did the informer know that once he gave Karson what he wanted, the informant would receive a bonus: a bullet to the head. Karson could not leave any loose-ends. There was no room for error: he had been black-mailed by Kira himself. Kira, via untraceable e-mail, had told him that unless he provided Kira with information on Karson's rival gang, The Family, Karson and the rest of his gang would be executed. Karson swallowed hard at the thought. He couldn't lose this informant! Even if it meant that Karson had to choke down his pride and kiss up to the guy to get the information. If the informer chickened out, Karson might as well start writing his eulogy right now. No. There was no room for error.

"Listen, I understand that what you're doing is potentially, eh... hazardous to your health but there's no need to worry friend! You're under Lightning protection on Lightning's turf. No one, I repeat, No one from The Family will be able to come anywhere near you, and I will personally see to your well-being after we're through here." Karson chuckled to himself.

The informant drilled Karson with eyes driven mad with panic, "You obviously haven't met The Family's sweeper."

"If I ever do I'll send him my regards," Karson laughed, patting his holstered pistol, "Now relax, you're making me edgy."

This seemed to assure the informant slightly, and he sat down.

"Good, now let's get down to busin-" The sound of gunfire and shouts of anguish rang out from the hall outside of the fifth-floor room that Karson, four of his elite guard, and the informant were now occupying.

"IT'S HIM! HE'S GONNA KILL ME!" the informant rocketed out of his chair and bolted for the window.

Karson whipped out his pistol and pointed it at the informant, "If you move one more inch I'm gonna kill you."

The informant stopped. Sheer terror was written across every centimeter of the informant's body and... had the guy actually soiled his pants?! Karson held nothing but disgust toward this putrid waste of human existence before him. Not only was he breaking down right before Karson's eyes, but Karson was sure the moron had somehow let it slip that he was meeting with Karson today. How else could this Family "sweeper" have known? He would take great pleasure in killing the informant once he had gotten what he needed from him. But for now, Karson had to protect the informant: his life depended on it.

"Now sit down you worthless piece of trash! If by some chance your sweeper makes it here, I'll take care of him personally. He ain't gonna touch you, got it?!"

The informant didn't reply, he merely sat down in the back-right corner of the room and curled up into the fetal position, mumbling incoherently to himself.

The gunshots followed by the screams of dying men grew gradually louder. Karson pointed his pistol at the door, ready to fire the split-second it opened. The cacophony of sounds intensified louder and louder into what seemed to be a great symphony of death. Then out of the blue, there was absolute, deafening silence. Karson found the silence unnerving. Sweat dribbled down his face. Then, Karson heard the clicking of dress shoes against the linoleum floor... right outside of the big wooden door that separated him from whomever, no, whatever that was outside. For the first time in a long time, Karson was nervous. He tried to collect himself as he stared at the door—no, he was edgy, never nervous. Karson would not die today!

Suddenly, the door broke open, and before Karson had time to blink, gunfire rang out from the dual-wielding figure in the door frame. Two of his guards fell dead before they managed to fire a single shot. One managed to get a poorly-aimed shot off before he too fell dead into a pool of his own blood with a single bullet to the throat. His last, most elite guard Thompson attempted to shoot the figure as he dived behind a nearby over-stuffed chair. The figure ducked out of the doorway just in time to avoid Thompson's potentially fatal shot. The figure quickly reappeared in the doorframe and fired four shots into the chair.

Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

Feathers flew everywhere. Thompson's eyes widened, he looked down at his chest: his white dress shirt was stained crimson from three bullet holes in his chest. The guard then looked up at Karson, eyes glazed over—Karson noticed a fourth bullet-hole in the guard's neck—gargled an entirely incoherent last word, and collapsed onto the floor.

Karson was stunned, in a matter of minutes this single man had managed to wipe out the guards outside of the building, every single one lining the hallways on each floor, and butcher all four of his personal, highly trained guards without so much as breaking a sweat. This guy couldn't be human! However, Karson had never been one to back down from a fight, no matter how severely the odds were stacked against him.

With all the guards taken care of, the menacing figure pointed both of his guns in Karson's direction and pulled the triggers. Reacting on pure instinct, Karson ducked behind his desk in a desperate grab for cover, but not before the two bullets fired grazed each of Karson's cheeks.

Warm, red blood oozed down Karson's cheeks and onto the lapels of his black suit. The stinging from the wounds served as a reminder to Karson of just how close he had come to being embraced by the cold arms of death. The thought sent adrenaline shooting through his veins. Karson stayed down only long enough to catch his breath before standing up and firing three shots in the direction of the doorframe. However, before he could stop himself he noticed that the man was no longer standing there, and Karson's bullets had left three smoking holes in the wall. He looked frantically around the room for the sweeper who seemed to have disappeared. Suddenly, the stranger popped out from behind a book case to the left of Karson and fired a single shot which grazed Karson's left arm. Quickly, Karson dove behind the end of the desk.

The freak's only toying with me! Karson realized with a mixture of revulsion and sheer terror. He had two clean shots at me. A guy with his skill could've... should've killed me by now. He's choosing to let me live either so he can get information from me or because he enjoys the sport... Family creep! Well I'm not gonna give him the luxury of either!

In an act of desperation Karson flew out from behind his desk and fired all the remaining bullets in his clip toward the left side of the room, putting special emphasis in the direction of the book case that the sweeper had taken cover behind only moments before. Karson dropped behind the over-stuffed chair Thompson had used as cover only moments ago and waited. An eerie stillness enveloped the room. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, Karson began to believe that at least one of the nine bullets he had fired must have hit the sweeper. So, Karson stood up, loaded his last clip into his gun and slowly, carefully began to make his way to the bookcase on the other side of the room. When he got to the book case, he took a deep breath and whipped around the book case, pistol drawn. Nothing. Not even a single drop of blood. The sweeper had somehow managed to survive Karson's full-out assault. Unscathed.

Click.

Karson heard the sound of a gun cock right behind him.

He sighed, "Huh. That traitor of yours was right. You are good."

Karson knew he was finished. He closed his eyes and waited for the bullet that would take him out of this existence.

Blam!

Karson's world was enveloped in white-hot, searing pain. He screamed in utter agony, and then blacked out.

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From his corner, the informant stared in disbelief. The Family sweeper, Brandon Heat had three blatant opportunities to end the life of Karson, and each separate time, he had spared him. First grazing Karson's cheeks, then his left arm, and now at point-blank range instead of shooting him in the head and ending Karson's life, Brandon had opted to shoot off Karson's left ear. Was Brandon going soft? No. That was impossible. Was it an opportunist from another rival gang dressed like Brandon? He was wearing a mask after all. No. All Family Executives now wore masks when they went on a job to prevent Kira from seeing their faces, and no one could have done what this man just did except for Brandon Heat himself. Karson must have something that the Family wanted, and needed him alive to get to it. The informant watched as Brandon pulled a bandage out of his coat pocket and began applying it to the quickly bleeding, gaping hole in the side of Karson's head where Karson's ear used to be.

This is my chance! While he's tending to Karson I can slip away! thought the informant.

He began slowly inching his way toward the door.

Click.

The informant froze in his tracks and looked over at Brandon. With his attention still on Karson, Brandon had drawn one of his guns and had pointed it in the informant's direction.

The informant swallowed, "Erm- Well done B-Brandon, you took care of these Lightning scum with your usual fl-flare! I was j-just leading them into a trap so that you c-could wipe them all out in one blow! W-we make a great t-team don't we Brandon? You don't have t-to thank me. Haha."

Brandon finished tending to the injured Karson, and without a word, turned the other gun on the informer.

Click.

"Al-ALRIGHT Brandon! Don't kill me PLEASE! I have two daughters and my wife is expecting our third! I wanted to provide the best possible future for them, and Karson offered me 500,000,000 yen see? Who in their right mind could turn down an offer like that?!"

"Never betray the Family." Brandon mumbled.

"I understand that Brandon, but Lightning was offering me ten times what The Family was, and I have a family of my own to consider. Please understand!" the informer plead.

Brandon was silent.

"Please Brandon, don't you have anyone that you'll do absolutely anything for?!"

For a moment, a glimmer of hope shone in the informant's breast. It looked like Brandon truly understood: a single tear rolled down Brandon's cheek.

"... You're a traitor. Traitors must die a traitor's death." was Brandon's reply.

"No. NOOO! PLEASE BRANDON! NOOOOO!" the informant screamed, his tear-stained face contorted in absolute terror.

Blam!

Brandon fired one shot, straight through the forehead of the informant, and for the first time since he entered into the room the informant's face relaxed, as it fell into a blank, hollow look of death.

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Teru Mikami stared with satisfaction at what he saw on the computer screen before him. The computer was one of Mikami's prize possessions: a gift from his god, Kira himself! This computer gave Mikami the ability to easily hack into other computers across the globe, and even the ability to turn any of the computers he hacked into a one way video feed if the computer had a webcam installed. It just so happened that Karson's computer did. With it, Mikami had watched the whole bloody event go exactly according to his plan.

Mikami knew that Kira would be pleased. Kira had charged him, through Lady Takada, with wiping the unrighteous organization known as "The Family" off the face of the Earth. Mikami's god could not move freely, else he could easily do it, but Mikami felt that once Kira learned of Mikami's success he would embrace Mikami and finally allow Mikami to meet him at last. Mikami shivered with pleasure at the thought. His plan would not fail.

It was brilliant. As instructed by Kira—and under the guise of Kira, an honor Mikami did not treat lightly—he contacted a low-life executive from Lightning and threatened him with execution if he failed to give Mikami what he wanted. It had been child's play getting a picture of Lightning's second-in-command, Karson, information on where he lived, and everything he held dear in his pitiful existence. Using the threat of execution, he explained to the pile of slime known as Karson that what he wanted from Karson was relatively simple—a picture of Big Daddy. Due to the fact that Family security was so tight, Mikami did not know the name of Big Daddy, and could find no security footage of him anywhere, even when Mikami hacked into The Family's top secret files using his god's computer.

A couple of days ago, Karson had informed Mikami that a member of the Inner-Family had approached him and had agreed to provide a picture of Big Daddy in exchange for 250,000,000 yen. When Mikami heard this, he shook his head in disgust: he was amazed how easily people betrayed their own for those worthless pieces of paper. But this was good news. With the picture of Big Daddy, Mikami could learn the Mafia boss's name, write it in the Death Note, and watch as The Family collapsed in on itself. The members of The Family would fall into desperation as they bore witness to the fact that their precious security measures and masks mattered not against the righteous and powerful judgement of Kira! They would abandon the security measures that they had taken before and resort to more crude methods of criminal activity. Eventually they would realize that they must abandon their lives of crime and embrace Kira's will or be deleted. Yes, all was going exactly as planned.

A while after he had been contacted by Karson with the news about the informant, however, Mikami—during a search of The Family database as had become his habit—read about the actions of The Family's most deadly weapon: a man identified only as "the sweeper." What he read about the man positively chilled him to the bone. How could one man get away with so many horrifying acts of murder? The thought enraged Mikami. Justice must be served! He decided then and there that this "sweeper" would be the first member of The Family to taste Kira's judgment. Mikami contacted Karson and told him to convince the informant to provide a picture of this "sweeper" along with the picture of Big Daddy by offering the traitor double the original offer and whatever else his greedy little heart desired. After a few hours, Karson contacted Mikami and informed him that The Family traitor had agreed, and would be providing a picture of the sweeper as well.

Though this was a victory for Mikami, it brought him no pleasure. Mikami had been so revolted by the unthinkable acts committed by this "sweeper" that he became consumed with one idea: he must see the life go out of the puke's eyes! Mikami had to watch as life seeped from this worm's veins... and laugh. Laugh as he fell gasping for breath clinging to the quickly fading threads of his pathetic existence. Laugh as he crushed all hope from this snake. Yes, and laugh as Mikami forced him to die completely and utterly alone!

As he reveled in the thought with his arms spread out before him, waves of pleasure were sent coursing through Mikami's veins. There was no way he was going to miss the sweeper's death! So he re-formulated his plan.

Mikami knew that if The Family learned about the traitor's actions, they would send their precious sweeper to eliminate him. So Mikami told The Family everything about the meeting via anonymous e-mail: when it was going to be held, where, and who was going to be involved in the exchange. Sure, Karson and much of Lightning would die at the hand of the sweeper, but Mikami had every intention of deleting them once he was through with them anyway. Once the sweeper had wiped out everyone in the room, Mikami would hack Karson's computer and address the sweeper personally. In response, the sweeper would walk up to the computer. From all Mikami had read, the sweeper always refused to wear the Family-issue masks while he was on assignment, preferring to shoot every security camera and execute everyone that had seen his face. When his face appeared clearly on the screen, Mikami would delete him. Then, after Mikami gloried in the death of this demon-spawn, he would go into Karson's office himself and retrieve the picture of Big Daddy from the body of the traitor. He might even take time to smash the sweeper's dead face in with his boot, just for fun. Mikami smiled maniacally. Nothing could go wrong!

Mikami watched as every aspect of his plan fell neatly into place. The only aspect of his plan that he could not witness was the execution of that pitiful character Karson, seeing as they were out of the webcam's line of sight. Pity. However, the dying screams of Karson were picked up loud and clear.

Music to my ears, thought Mikami with a smile on his face.

"No. NOOO! PLEASE BRANDON! NOOOOO!"

So his name's Brandon... Well Brandon, are you ready to die?

Blam!

Gunfire sounded through the speaker.

Showtime!

Mikami had to stifle a laugh as he pressed the button.

Blip.

"Hello Brandon, you have no idea how thrilled I am to finally meet you face-to-face."

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Brandon Heat stared down at the man he had just killed. The man was face-down in a quickly growing pool of blood seeping from the hole in his head. He rarely felt any twinge of guilt when executing traitors: they deserved every bullet he delivered. However, what this man had said about his family had stirred the emotions he had long tried to suppress.

He had thought about his best friend Harry, and everything they had been through together. He and Harry had made a pact when they were kids at the orphanage to go straight to the top. Together. Brandon would die for Harry MacDowell. He also thought of Big Daddy, who had taken Brandon under his wing and treated him like a son. Since Brandon had never had a father figure, this love drove every action he had taken since meeting Big Daddy and became a member of the Inner-Family. Then there was Maria. Maria had loved him while he was no more than a common thug on the streets. When her care-giver uncle was killed by a thug, Maria went to live with a man that claimed to be a good friend of her uncle. Little did she know at the time that she was going to live with Big Daddy himself! She didn't know that Brandon worked for Big Daddy either. Maria did know however, that Brandon's life was a dangerous one, and insisted just yesterday that he wear a mask when he got into one of those "sticky, avoidable situations" he was always getting into, as she had so bluntly put it. She worried about him. He worried about her, but he knew that Big Daddy put the protection of Maria above even his own. Yet another thing Brandon was thankful to Big Daddy for: the protection of the woman Brandon loved. He did love her, didn't he? It was because of this realization that Brandon had shed that single tear, and it was for Maria, Harry and Big Daddy he pulled the trigger.

This man was a traitor, and traitors must die a traitor's death, else they might bring harm to those he loved. To protect at all costs, that was Brandon's purpose.

Blip.

"Hello Brandon, you have no idea how thrilled I am to finally meet you face-to-face."

Brandon drew his guns and whipped around, but there was no one in the room except for him and the unconscious Karson. It was then that he realized that the voice was emanating from the computer. Was this some sort of trap to get Brandon to lower his guard? Brandon slowly inched around with his eyes on the computer.

"Don't worry Brandon, I don't bite. Even if I did, how could I possibly reach you through this computer screen?" chuckled the cold, computerized voice.

Brandon slowly inched his way closer to the computer.

"Who are you?" Brandon mumbled.

Brandon could hear the smirk in the voice as it responded. "I failed to introduce myself? Where ARE my manners? I'm not foolish enough to give you my real name, so why don't you just call me the Right Hand of Kira?"

Brandon stopped in his tracks. Kira?! How was he involved? Brandon did not fear the supposed new "god" of the world, but he did consider Kira as a threat to The Family and had begun a search for the man behind the myth, but he hadn't realized that Kira was searching out The Family. He would begin his search in earnest now.

"What do you want?" Brandon muttered.

"What do I want?! Isn't it obvious?" The Kira worshipper asked.

Brandon remained silent.

"Come closer and I'll tell you."

Brandon, wary as ever of some kind of trap, walked up to the monitor.

"Good. I'll tell you what I want, you little puke. I want your head on a plate. I want to delete you and your precious organization. Down to the last man, woman and child, because you all have been judged as unfit for Kira's new world."

"Big Daddy?" Brandon asked.

"After you, he'll be the first to go." The worshipper replied.

Beat.

"Well?! aren't you going to say something you little puk-"

Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

Brandon fired all of the remaining bullets in his clips into the monitor, CPU, and tiny webcam. That was all he had to say.

I have to protect The Family no matter what the cost. Protect... Maria no matter the cost.

Brandon knew what he must do now: he must find Kira and eliminate him. Brandon set out with new resolve. He would find Kira. No matter what the cost.

Brandon grabbed the bloodied manila folder from the jacket of the traitor, slipped a piece of paper into Karson's pocket, turned around, and walked straight out of the door.

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Mikami screamed at the top of his lungs with pent up anger, frustration, and fear. The reports he had read were wrong! Brandon WAS wearing a mask! Mikami had risked everything on the fact that Brandon wouldn't be wearing one! The little puke! He had ruined EVERYTHING! Now what would he tell his master? If Kira learned of his failure, Mikami would be punished. Severely. The thought temporarily paralyzed Mikami with fear. He must fix this before his master learned of his mistake.

Mikami had attempted to keep his composure at the sight of Brandon wearing a mask, and he felt he had done remarkably well. He stared at the screen, now filled with static before him, and began to think.

I must find him and end him. But how? That rot Karson and half of his men are dead because of Brandon...I wonder...

A light went off in Mikami's head, and he laughed a terrible, hysterical laugh.

"Brandon, prepare to meet thy doom!"

Mikami had created a new plan: a wonderful, psychotic, impossible plan that could not fail. With his mad, bloodshot eyes turned to the computer, Mikami set to work on the deletion of Brandon.

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Karson awoke to the world. Feeling incredibly nauseous and dizzy, Karson could not figure out where he was.

Wherever I am, it ain't Heaven, that's for sure. Karson thought.

His head was throbbing and mind reeling. Karson attempted to sit up, and when he did, he was met by a sharp pain in his left ear. He gasped in surprise and reached up to touch it. Instead of feeling his ear, he was greeted by the feeling of soft bandages. This confused Karson. He sat for a while and collected his thoughts. Then it hit him.

That sweeper creep shot my ear off! He actually shot my bloomin' ear off! Karson thought with surprise.

He quickly reached up and checked the place where the right ear should be and was met with the reassuring feel of flesh. Karson sighed with relief.

The fact that the sweeper had spared Karson the pain of death was not lost on him. But men like Karson lived on more than just air: he had a reputation to uphold! And now, the hole in the left side of his head would serve as a constant reminder to his associates of how many Lightning men died under him and how he should be dead along with them.

If the guy had any real honor he would have killed me instead of maiming me when I have men to command! thought Karson with disdain.

Just then, images of his wife, Angela, his sons, Mikie age 12, Ralph age 10, and his only daughter Esther who was only two years old ran through his mind. If he had died today, his family would have been without a husband and father. For that reason, Karson was grateful the sweeper had spared him.

But why had the sweeper spared him? What could he possibly have that the sweeper wanted? If Karson did have something the sweeper wanted, why didn't he rouse Karson to consciousness? Why did he leave?

Then it dawned on Karson: Check your pockets.

He reached into his left pocket, felt a small piece of paper, pulled it out and read it.

"Meet me at Sato Warehouse in Tokyo, Japan two weeks from today. I want to talk to you. If you want revenge, this will be your only chance. –Brandon, Family Sweeper."

Karson stared at the piece of paper for a while.

Brandon, huh? Alright Brandon, I'll be there, but you better expect the worst, because I'm not sure what I'm gonna do yet.

It dawned on him that an epic battle between The Family and Kira had begun today, and he was caught in the stinkin' center of it all. Karson really led a charmed life, didn't he?

Karson chuckled at the thought, slowly got to his feet and began to make his way home.