BATMAN
L sat before the computer monitor, on the floor. The room was empty except for him and that computer - tower, monitor, and keyboard, barren concrete. His meditative stance belied the thoughts and memories flying in his head, forever flitting out of his grasp like beasts on little, spiney wings. He was alone. Mother and Father both were dead. Dead by the hands of a petty criminal, weilding a knife, whom he now could in minutes have deduced the identity of, proven guilty, and have committed to the electric chair. He felt guilty, helpless. Watari set a tray beside him, the tap of weighted tin shaking him from his reverie. "They're calling you a vigilante. Saying you see yourself as standing above the law," Watari said. L simply nodded. He wasn't standing particularly tall, then, now was he?
ALFRED PENNYWORTH
Watari sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water and a pastry from the most recent batch. He'd purchased them from a shop about half-an-hour away. He enjoyed going out to various bakeries and sweet shops; they had such frivolous environment and the most wonderful perfumes. It was such a shame that L did not come with him more often, a shame that L did not appreciate the sweets more than he did. To L, these treats were not treats, they were no more than a necessity, merely his sustenance. He ate these things not because he chose to, but because he had to in order to maintain peak mental performance; or, so he thought. But like other things, Watari chose to do this... and he enjoyed every moment.
CATWOMAN
Misora's steps were precise, startlingly quiet for any woman on elevated heels. She resembled some catburglar more than she did an agent of the Bureau, wearing her black jacket and pants and sleek black hair swinging softly on her back. She was working for L, determined to solve this crime on his behalf. He had entrusted to her a great responsibility, and she was honored, if not inclined - well, forced, to accept. This career... It was her child.
KILLER MOTH
B would stop at nothing to excel beyond the boundaries L had set out for him. He was no sucessor, he was better than that. He was not afraid to overstep those boundaries, the boundaries of L or the boundaries of the law in order to gain the intelligence, the wisdom, the wit that he required to surpass the overrated man known as "the best." He would first simulate... and then he would execute. In more than one sense.
THE JOKER
A mocking laugh bubbled from Light's throat as the thrill of killing overtook him. This was as close as it came to instant gratification. The power... was intoxicating. He was now the most powerful individual in the human world. And here he sat, breathing hard after the exhilaration of purifying the world, watched over by this clown of a Shinigami. It's said that the thing one hates most about someone is the thing that reminds one of oneself. He hated that Shinigami... His stupid laugh, that addiction to apples. Light, too, was addicted to the forbidden fruit, that sin of killing another. But when it was just so easy, how could he help himself? And Ryuk... what a card.
HARLEY QUINN
Misa wanted nothing more than to serve Light in his mission. No matter what he did to others, no matter what he did to her, she would stand by him. Sometimes she feared that with him, she would lose what sanity she had left. He made her so happy... She would give anything to be with him forever. Even her memories. Even her life.
POISON IVY
Takada had a tenuous relationship with Amane Misa. As they each vied for Light's attention, the static pulsed between them. They were rivals in love, rivals in power. But Takada knew that Misa was no more than a puppet. Takada, however, would be Light's queen. He had told her so. Takada felt it only proper to warn Misa, "He's going to cast you off, he's lied to you, you are merely a tool." Misa smirked in her drunken stupor, on top of the world. Or am I the one being used?
THE MAD HATTER
Mikami Teru was indebted to God. God had given him the power to defend good and to condemn evil. Since his youth, he had become more able to handle this responsibility. All his life, he had taken it upon himself. And now, God had entrusted him with the Death Note! He knew that God had smiled on him, that he had proven himself worthy! He would do anything and everything he could to aid in God's mission. After all, it was his own.
TWO-FACE
Mello would never forgive Near. Near had surpassed him. Mello had always been left in his dust. All he ever wanted to do was be the best, be better than Near, be good enough for L. Now, the mission had changed. Now he, too, was after Kira. And he wanted the Death Note for himself. People change. Goals change. Faces change. He and Near... were two sides of the same coin. But Mello... Well, he preferred his coin be made of chocolate.
THE VENTRILOQUIST
Matt heaved a sigh as he started the car. How did it always end up like this? How did he always let Mello boss him around? He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it, revving the engine a couple times simply because he might never get to do it again. Mello told him over and over, I need you to carry out my plan. We need to catch Kira. But don't get cocky. You're just a henchman. Matt remembered this and rolled his eyes before driving away. The gun was digging into his back.
ROBIN
Near sat, surrounded by block sets and action figures, looking rather unenthusiastic. He didn't particularly like or dislike the position he'd come to be in, as the successor to L. It was simply the logical conclusion to a series of events. He'd solved the Kira case. Yagami Light was dead. Mikami Teru was dead. L was dead. Watari was dead. Mello was dead. Matt was dead. So many, dead. The game was over. Things had become so very dull. The cases were boring. The people were boring. The finger puppets and the block-people had been discarded in favor of new toys. Near extended the arms of a caped Robin figurine and tossed it. He'd much have preferred Nightwing.