Bri tapped away at her computer.
Nothing.
No word from Matt on where Mello was and no word from Near on any L and/or Kira updates.
Blackmail hadn't worked forever, Near had demanded that she be his feet and help him catch Kira/ the fake L and he'd give her fake ID's and other things. Sure, she could have done it all herself, but she didn't want to risk Near sending out a full investigation on her. But she had her picture from Whammy's ripped and stained, but still the young girl smiled back at her.
She'd wanted to take her picture with Mail and Mello, but she couldn't. She remembered that day was like any other.
This picture kept her from ending up on the back of a milk carton everywhere in England. She'd played it smart and swiped it when Near threatened her back after her attempt of blackmail.
Anyway. . .
When L died –on that day, that exact moment- she had been drinking coffee on her break time. Coffee and a donut. The time of death rolled by and she suddenly felt empty.
Bri poured seven packets of sugar into her coffee and drank it all.
Despite the rough sandy texture, she chugged until it was gone and breathed a sigh of relief.
Near had contacted her later and told her.
She hadn't cried, but then knew she was royally screwed.
She had been named number 3 in the succession before she left. And then her scores were close to Mello's. What she had tried to avoid all these years had found her and grabbed her back in.
She glanced at her clock.
Time for work.
She shut down the computer and put of all the codes and everything she'd need to make sure no one would be able to trace it –Matt had warned her about that when they'd last talked over a month ago. She darted out of her apartment -not forgetting to turn on the security cameras that tracked movement- and locked the door.
Other than all of that said above she lead a normal life.
Her name here was Brookie Sanders.
She was from Washington and she loved horses.
She worked at a Starbucks rival and was mouthy to her boss, but he'd just given her a raise because she was the best worker he had.
So normal.
Mello gnawed on his chocolate bar.
Rod and the others had found a lead on a possible mole sent from L in America –L.A to be exact. But there couldn't be a mole sent from L –L was dead.
Mello remembered when he'd gotten the news. It had been three months after Bri had left and L, although he actually met and talked to his hero, had never chosen a successor.
So Roger (pain in the ass) pitched the idea that he and Near work together to catch Kira.
Mello had thoughts of his own. L was killed by Kira, and what better way to catch Kira than to snag someone from the new L's inner circle and shake them for information?
And he'd set out to do just that.
He left Whammy's House with a less than perfect plan (no money, just maps and food) and went were the wind took him. Relaying on luck and the crucifix around his neck, but first he'd asked if either of the guys knew where Bri was heading –she hadn't told him.
Matt pointed him to America.
And Mello went to America (he wouldn't tell you how) and found the mafia in L.A.
Half-dead, the boss's wife took him in and fed him.
He'd proved to have some worth and when the boss's son took over (a Kira incident with his father), Mello had joined as his right-hand man and a step-brother. But Mello swore he didn't want anything to do with top spot, he was fine being second.
He was use to it anyway.
"Mello, what ya think?"
The blonde put his feet up.
"I say be nail the bastard, bring 'em here."
Bri set down the magazine she'd been pouring over.
So Sagittarius men and an Aquarius woman were the best matched, but the more chance of failure? Strange.
She was getting mixed signals from all these different books and websites.
She'd laughed on the column debating sex between these two signs –strangely enough it said Aquarius would laugh a lot and be. . .playful. Perhaps she could be an Astrologist? She'd be quite good at it.
Hmm. . .I needed a new ID and a place to work. . .She liked horoscopes, though they probably weren't even real physics, they described Mello's character to a T.
She tried to imagine the fifteen-year-old boy now as a man.
Blonde, hot-tempered, good-looking, German features. . .
No luck.
She had changed a lot over the past years too –mentally and physically.
She'd picked up one or two street smarts and traveled like a person in the witness protection program –three times every five months if she was pissed at Near. But she'd barely touched toe here, it was a new area, she loved it.
She intended on taking some pictures and buying some frames. Maybe (she says this loosely) getting a roommate to help pay rent.
"Yo, Brookie! Your breaks over!" Her boss shouted from inside, startling her. She leaned further back in her chair, bug-eyed sunglasses slipping off her nose.
"Don't gimme that Berry, I got five more minutes." She smiled, flashing teeth and the middle-aged, crabby-ass coffeemaker sighed heavily and went back to his work.
She tucked the magazine into her purse when he wasn't looking and finished her coffee. Ha, he didn't even check the clock.
Rule Number One on a Planned Capture: Know your target's movements.
Mello had sent two of his own right-hand men to feel the victim out, search his apartment for clues and find out what he did every day.
They'd arrived back saying the door was watched by cameras.
Rule Number Two on a Planned Capture: Don't let the victim see you before taking them in.
Mello arranged for two other men just to tail the apparent girl instead.
She was cautious the next few days, taking longer breaks at her job. Staying in heavily packed groups. Wearing things that blended with the crowd. She was also on her cell phone a lot.
The guys had snapped a few crappy pictures with their cell phones and Mello glared –it was a girl with long chocolate brown hair and wearing bug-eyed sunglasses. The picture was obscured by the light.
If he didn't already have anything better to do, he'd do this himself.
"Near. . .I need your help, I think I'm being stalked." Bri whispered into her phone while taking her break in the woman's bathroom. She sat on the ledge of the window and looked out at the man across the street.
"Kira supporters?"
"Smart ones. Other than that I think it's just a regular stalker. How soon can you change my name?"
She waited a long moment.
"Did you get that information I asked for?"
That little ass.
"Si señor." She could be a smart ass too, having to code everything into Spanish and save it on her lap top.
"I'll send a car to your house on Monday morning. Seven o' clock. The agent will be a female named Halle, understand? You and her will stay in the L.A. area."
"Thanks Near." She hung up before he could and slid her phone into her pocket.
Monday morning. . .that's tomorrow.
And she really liked this area too.
"She quit her job."
The brain-dead, druggy, multi-tattooed idioten told him and Mello's teeth furiously ripped (can you rip?) at the chocolate bar in his hands. It was fresh from the freezer, too cold so he intended to gnaw on it for a while, but this. . .
The two remained unfazed.
. . .pissed him off.
"Ha-ha, she's running scared." Rod laughed.
Mello glared and traced the handle of his gun. Maybe he should take over the mafia. . .nah, they were all tools anyway.
"She's on to us. Grab her tonight. Bring her here." Mello stood and threw the wrapper to the ground. Bits of chocolate spewing from his mouth as he shouted.
Rod shot him a glare and asked why he thought he could make the decisions.
For the love of. . .
"She's on to us. She probably contacted her leader and told them she was being stalked, so they're going to relocate her." Mello explained.
In the end they did what he said.
Bri didn't answer her door when she heard the knock.
She grabbed her laptop and zipped it up in her bag. All the lights were off in her apartment and the TV was off. She'd have to call her landlady later to tell her to put the apartment up for sale.
Earlier she'd burned everything else in an old tin pot she found under the sink.
The door broke in.
These were some persistent stalkers.
A girl sat in the chair, with the traditional handcuffs, her feet tied to a leg of the chair, a silver strip of duck tape covering her mouth and a blindfold. She was younger than we'd expected eighteen at the oldest.
Mello only caught a glimpse of her through the security camera; chewing at another chocolate bar he noticed something weird.
Her long dark hair was curled into ringlets like Christmas ribbons.
He dismissed all thoughts of the other girl he knew that had hair like that. It would have to be redder, he'd seen Matt only a month ago and his hair was a vivid auburn-brown. Bri would never dye her hair. . .
Stop thinking about her. You've got bigger fish to fry now.
"Member of the Japanese task force here I come."
Bri cringed at every sound.
Her cell phone was in her pocket, she had to keep it hidden until she was alone.
She calmed herself over the initial shock: they'd broken into her house, fought her and knocked her out with chloroform. They'd snagged her computer too.
Supporters of Kira. She realized. Of course, Near and kept her up to date on everything of this 'Age of Kira' –as everyone was calling it- and she knew if Kira saw her face and got her name she'd be done for, but that's why she had so many aliases. Though this degree of capture felt more of a Second Kira vibe. She was dead, so dead unless she could take herself out of this.
Work her Irish-Italian, but England born, charm.
"She could be working for the fake L. C'mon, she's way too hot."
What da hell?
"That's what they want you to think. Kira's sending all his little whoring mistresses around to find out who's working for the greater good."
"We're working for the greater good?"
"Well. . .yeah." A pat on the shoulder.
"I did not join the mafia for this."
Okay, so I was caught by the mafia for belief of working for the fake L/Kira. That makes so much sense. . .not.
"She's in here, boss."
Rod and Mello walked into the 'dining room' where the captive was held. He chewed on a bit of chocolate.
"Well, isn't she the pretty one?" Rod nudged him and Mello almost dropped his candy bar.
She didn't scream against the tape, she didn't struggle against her bindings; it was like she'd accepted her fate, but her eyes gave away everything. Blue, like ice glazed over a clear blue pond, almond shaped eyes that darted everywhere nervously and took in the detail of everything. . .then Mello.
Snyder, a mafia member, laughed and caressed one of her elfish high cheekbones.
She cringed away, almost painfully, jerking her head to the side and a naked bulb caught the discoloration of her skin stretching from her cheek and near the side of her nose: a bruise.
Mello's fingers curled into fist, muscles and tendons pulling at the taunt leather gloves that squeaked in protest.
What the hell. . .
Bri glared at the blonde haired teenager in front of her.
Unmistakably, Mello.
He shook his head, telling her not to talk, but the supposed boss-man told them to remove the tap.
They ripped it off.
Pealing the skin from her lips.
She growled and her eyes locked on Mello. "You son of a bitch. . ." she started and Mello's face turned to panic. "You hire me to spy on Near and you kidnap me instead? I had that Kira supporter you ass. Nice job."
Mello sighed in relief and thanked the gods that his men were so stupid.
They'd probably talked over the whole organization in front of her.
They made up a story, playing it by ear and without looking at each other for help.
Bri and Mello made the best team.
They were able to find a few moments to themselves to talk.
Well, as the adoptive son in a mafia family. . .Mello made time.
He went into the room she was staying in, she was sleeping on the couch, and put his hand over her mouth.
Suddenly, Mello was pushed into the cushions. Bri's hand at the pressure point on his neck. Intention to kill.
She saw him under her and rolled off, quickly. Mello sat up.
"How the hell did you-?"
"I took self-defense classes in New York." Her hands moved to her hips. "You've got some explaining to do Mello."
They swapped stories quickly and Mello wanted to bash his head in afterward.
He'd been tailing the girl he'd been looking for.
"So. . ." Bri looked around the room. Seeing that there were no windows. "What day is it?"
"Tuesday."
"Shit. . ." She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the one –only one- missed call. She should have figured. Near would know when this Halle person called and then he called only to figure she'd been abducted.
Mello glanced from her to the phone. "What?"
"One of Near's men were supposed to pick me up yesterday."
Mello snatched the phone and crushed it under his boot. Bri stared at him.
"Why did you-?"
"You can track a cell phone if it's turned on. We've got to relocate now."
*idoiten = idiots
I always imagined Mello being German. Weird, yes. Commonly used, yes.
This is the second story in my Mello x Brielle series and I'm proud of it. It tells how Mello and Bri can to meet again, three years later after Whammy's. Next chapter will be up soon.
Note: This takes place before Mello and the mafia get that cool underground hide out in the middle of the desert. Near and Light are just starting to clash and L is dead.