A.N.
And yet another new fic (I know what you're thinking 'finish the other ones', we will, promise?)
This is just the prologue which Kat wrote, I'll be putting up the first chapter within the next few days. Enjoy.
Ambyr
Disclaimer: We do not own Death Note
-Mello-
At first glance it looks to be a perfect place. Rows of neat houses, completely self-sufficient, children playing hopscotch or jump-rope, you would look around and see paradise. Everyone was dressed neatly, everyone at work promptly, and walking in the doors to kiss their wives exactly at five thirty. But then you begin to notice things. The houses get less and less 'suburban' as you go down the row; the ones with large gardens the least glamorous of all. How the smiles never reach anyone's eyes, everyone was polite but emotionally detached. Then you notice the numbers. The numbers are what set this place apart from the rest of the world. Anyone can be self sustaining if they wished, but the numbers. On the hand of every man and woman over the age of eighteen was a number. The lucky ones had anywhere from six to ten. The average, eleven to fifteen. God help the poor souls who had sixteen to twenty, holding onto their place by a thread. The ones who did the tasks the others were too 'qualified' for. Then you had the elite. The people who held numbers one through five; the honored and revered individuals in the society, the leaders who didn't share their number with anyone else.
This was me. I was number two. Privy enough to actually meet our revered leader, some called him zero, some called him L. They should stop beating around the bush and call him what he is.
Master.
We are the third generation of this place. The first was just a group of genii, who ran, wanting a place they could be themselves, to have support, to continue their knowledge. The second generation was led by a man named Whammy. Some say L is his son, but I digress. He had a larger, grander vision for our little home, and would test children to have them raised here. This was me, Matt, Near, Linda, and ….. number five is vacant…
It started out well, ok. We were free to study what we wished, but then….the restrictions came. Who could do what, who could say what, who you marry what your kids are named…All of it is determined. If it didn't fit in L's plan…
I was lucky, I was high enough to state I wanted to share a home with my best friend. Lucky to have my request granted…
People at the bottom…Everything is chosen for them. If your IQ isn't high enough…. If someone of a higher number tells you to do something, you had to do it.
This is why I hate my job. As two I was in charge of the police. Quite often I had some poor twenty in lock up because some bratty ten or twelve or the list goes on, told them to do something stupid and they had to. Punishing them for sticking up for themselves was worse.
The other reason was I was hated. No one would say it out loud, but I was. For my job for my number…Everyone knew I was just a breath away from being one. I was treated with scorn. If you weren't the best you were the worst. I was lucky to have Matt. Number didn't matter to him.
He was third and was in charge of all technology in the city. Numbers one though five were the only ones with access to the outside, to know what there was to miss…
I wanted out, but I knew better than anyone, to run was death. To resist was death. I was to do my job, marry some girl picked out for me and benefit the society. Matt and I prayed he was as good as he said he was with computers every time we kissed, touched. Houses were bugged. You would submit. No uprisings were allowed.
I screamed in pain cursing the rank law. Just because Matt…didn't mean. The prick, the useless sheep…number ONE. The pain was just too much. I started to sob, to do the one thing I told myself I would never do in front of him. His cold laugh froze my blood, the moan and the feel of him finishing inside me made me gag.
Welcome to Hell.