Hi. . .this is Evil And Loving It. . .I'm co-writing with Lady Shikyo on this, and she's sleeping at the moment so I'm the one posting this~

We are aware that this is an extraordinarily short chapter. That's why it's called a prologue.

The following warnings should be heeded:

Beware of death, suicide, thoughts of suicide, torture, severe alcohol consumption, disturbing themes, freaky little dolls (which may or may not do things), yaoi and. . .I'm pretty sure that's it. If there's more I'll add to the list.

But don't let that deter you! I'm sure humor will find its way in here. It always does with Shikyo. . .

Everclear - Has a very high alcohol content, and no taste or scent, which often leads to overdoses and death.

Enjoy.

The man sighed as he drove down the dark, empty streets, the full moon's light pouring through the leaves of the thin forestry lining the road in scattered bursts. Silent was his car, which drove smoothly and silently, and no music filled it's interior. He enjoyed silence, and felt that he didn't get enough of it.

He really needed to stop staying late at the inn. He was exhausting himself working on things his staff didn't get to or finish, and it wasn't like it was mandatory that he finish their jobs. He just hated leaving things without a sense of closure. He ran the inn better than anyone before him had, even his only superior said so. Though his superior didn't really have much to do with anything besides owning the building. . .

The man was the perfect manager. He was perfect in every way: he was intelligent, he was good with people, he was a natural leader, he was confident, he rarely drank or did any other kind of vice, and he liked his job. Being attractive didn't hurt any.

His single vice, really, was that he smoked. Even now, one of the death sticks was between his lips filling his lungs with nicotine and his car with it's scent. He'd learned early on that the nicotine did wonders for any stress he had. Early enough that through his late middle school and entire high school life he had to make sure he never smoked too much and always had mints/gum handy for fear of his parents discovering his guilty pleasure. He had stuck to those habits so determinedly that he still did that. He even had an air freshener in his car, which dulled the scent a bit, though it was still there.

Due to his love of all things clean and that he never smoked in public, most people in his town weren't consciously aware or didn't notice that the scent of smoke that tended to linger around the man was actually from him. It just didn't occur to them that he could have an addiction. What could he say; the mind was a powerful thing.

And so the semi-perfect man drove through the dark, empty streets of the small town in which he resided. A small town called Everclear. Which was ridiculous, really. The fact that a town that didn't even have an independent bar was named after one of the most potentially deadly alcohols--which you couldn't get in many of the US states anyway--was an irony in the truest sense. The founders of this place had to have been messed up in the head, which frankly wouldn't surprise the man considering its residents.

But he didn't feel like getting into that. He was almost home to his calm, quiet house, which resided on the outskirts of the town, and he was looking forward to collapsing into bed. Just the thought of a soft mattress and sheets beneath him and a warm thick blanket to keep the cold fall temperatures away wa--

Something suddenly jumped in front of the car, effectively scaring the shit out of the man and invoking the slamming of his foot on the break, which also invoked the break's screech that shattered through the night air. Despite this quick action the object was slammed into by the vehicle and thrown over the hood and into the windshield, which luckily and amazingly did not break or crack.

The man didn't really see anything for a moment, just trying to gather his wits at the sudden invasion in his formerly-calm night. Finally he could actually look at whatever it was he had impacted with. His eyes met unfocused dead ones.

The man's mind went completely blank at the sight of the dead child resting against his windshield. Not even the urge to scream that had threatened him at first lingered now.

Only one word could break through Yagami Raito's mind and out his mouth, from which his burning cigarette promptly fell.

"Fuck"