After writing Everto Oculus, I had to write something that was cheerful and fun. So I did :) And indeed it was fun to write, so hopefully it will be just as fun for you to read.
It all started with a song. Brass Monkey by The Beastie Boys to be exact, which is one of my favorite songs. If you haven't heard it, please go listen to it, because a certain scene in this opening chapter just won't be the same unless you've heard the song and can remember how it sounds. Everything else stemmed from that one scene that I envisioned to the song, and suddenly there was my inspiration for a whole story!
Some quick character facts:
L: age 18
Mello and Matt: age 10
Near: age 8
Alice: my name for the young woman with glasses who works in Wammy's House, shown on page 150 of volume 7.
Now, for the first chapter!
Death Note and all related characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.
The Wammy's House, a home where the gifted and genius orphaned children of the world were brought together under one roof, carefully groomed and tutored to the fullest of their abilities. They were taught by the best teachers for hire and lived in a world of expensive finery, where Egyptian cotton rugs, gold plated picture frames, and gardens filled with flowers imported from around the world were all part of daily life and often taken for granted. Oh yes, you have the appropriate picture now, don't you? Dozens of neat and tidy children, dressed in immaculate uniforms, marching about a just-as-immaculate house quietly carrying their books to classes. You are imagining children with perfect manners, who would never dare raise their voices, who would curl up quietly with a book in the library-
No.
Please, dear readers, erase such naïve images from your minds at once. For Wammy's House was not at all home to such children. In fact, the only person in that House that could be said to have manners was Mr. Roger Ruvie, the caretaker. In his presence no lady would go without a door unopened for her, no speck of fuzz or loose string would mar his brown suit, and if it had been left up to him certainly every child in Wammy's House would be the perfect little vision of youth. But alas, he was only the caretaker, and Mr. Wammy wished that all the children in his House be allowed to live naturally. Their quirks and talents were not to be suppressed, he insisted. But of course Wammy was already used to these "quirks". After raising a child like L, one would certainly be prepared for and tolerant of nearly any odd habit a child may have. Unfortunately Roger had not had the "privilege" of overseeing L to adulthood, and therefore was not yet numb to the oddities that assaulted him on a daily basis.
'But all is well,' he told himself, day after day. 'At least no one will know that certain children must be given only the most expensive brand of chocolate bars lest they sulk and throw a tantrum. No one will know that though they could have the best of fine cashmere sweaters and proper trousers, certain children will wear nothing but pajamas whether it is day or night. No one will know that certain children must be praised and only 'gently discouraged from a reoccurrence' when they hack into my computer system as a prank. And oh, thank you dear Lord, no one will know that a certain young man must be brought sweets for every meal."
Ah, those wretched certain children. The best in Wammy's House, and the most atrocious among them the very beginning of it all, L himself. But Roger would endure. After all, no one would know…
But then – oh, horror and woe! – it happened.
A letter came. The letter. The letter written in perfect flowing calligraphic script and smelling lightly of women's perfume. The letter written on pale pink paper and folded just so into a gray envelope. The letter stamped with the seal of the Ladies' and Gentlemen's Board for the Proper Education of Youth. It was found buried among a pile of two week old junk mail that Roger had never thrown away, having become distracted right as he was about to do so by one of the children's shenanigans. The unfortunate placement of a book directly atop the mail pile had led to the terribly long delay in its discovery.
Roger opened and unfolded the letter with the utmost caution, as if he expected something decidedly unpleasant to leap out at him from it. Of course the letter physically did nothing, but it did manage to make the man's eyes grow wider and wider as he read it, until at last he looked up sharply from his reading with a horrified expression frozen upon his face. Any other reader of this simple letter probably wouldn't have seen anything so terrible about it. It said, in elegant flowing script, this:
Dear Mr. Roger Ruvie,
How are you, my dear? I fear it has been so dreadfully long since I've written, which simply isn't polite of me at all. I must saying I'm doing fabulous myself, having just returned from a lovely cruise around the southern tip of Africa to Australia. It was a splendid trip!
Regardless, I must not forget my mission. As you know I am a member of Ladies' and Gentlemen's Board for the Proper Education of Youth, and I have been hearing quite a lot about that private academy you work in. Surely when it is said that place is filled with "geniuses" it is an exaggeration and not literal? Anyway, the Board and I must see this place for ourselves. After all, surely it is kept to the highest standards even if it is not filled with true geniuses, and you know how I enjoy old houses. Two of my fellow board members and myself will be out in two weeks time, on Sunday the 27th. I know you have dozens of children there and we can't examine them all, so we'll simply wish to see those top three of yours.
I hope to find you in good health, dear Roger! We have much catching up to do, but that can be done over a nice cup of Earl Grey and a plate of scones.
Until then,
Sincerely,
Elizabeth W. Martin
Surely a harmless enough letter? But no, seemingly not, judging by the expression on Roger's face. Elizabeth W. Martin was not an unknown name to him. It was in fact dreadfully familiar. Ms. Elizabeth had been an old flame of his, and ahh he could remember her well! His old lover from the 40's, the beautiful blonde singer who lit up the stage with her presence. But that was certainly not all there had been to Elizabeth. She was a very proper woman, raised in a wealthy household with a father who was in government. Nothing, be it unsavory, immoral, impolite, ungrammatical, dirty, or wrinkled, would get past her. Nothing.
Roger flopped down into his chair. What on earth was to be done? She wanted to see the top three, the most wretched children in the House! It was bad enough that she was coming at all while L was still there. Of course no real harm could come of it, since she certainly couldn't shut down the House no matter how mightily she disapproved of the bad manners of its inhabitants, but she could cause a fuss and unnecessary trouble that Mr. Wammy shouldn't have to deal with while away on his business trip. And he would be gone for three weeks yet…
Roger paused, then picked up the letter again. The date…what?! But this was dated for nearly two weeks ago! Sunday the 27th….it was…Roger glanced over at his calendar.
In three days! Sunday the 27th was in three days! Only three days to prepare! Only three days to turn those children into gentlemen befitting a fine lady's presence!
Roger got to his feet and swiftly left his office, his face set in a determined expression. There were plenty of children roaming the halls, but where were those three? 'They could be anywhere!' Roger thought despairingly. 'The little hooligans, running amuck!'
He stopped abruptly as he passed the common room. Ah, there was one of them! The House's first, the pajama-clad little white-haired boy, Near. He was hunched over his blank puzzle as usual, his slim fingers carefully pressing each piece into place. Roger shook his head.
'Such atrocious posture!' he thought. 'Something must be done.'
He started forward, intending to correct the boy at once, but he was jarringly interrupted by the sound of thumping bass, coming from the speakers of a radio being toted down the stairs upon the shoulder of a blond boy dressed all in black, accompanied by a somewhat shorter redhead.
Thus entered into the scene number two and number three, Mello and Matt.
Matt made his way to the bottom of the stairs by sliding upon the banister railing, landing heavily upon his feet at the bottom. Upon his bare and very dirty feet. 'For heaven's sake!' thought Roger. 'The boy looks as if he's been rolling about in the dirt!'
And indeed Matt did, as he bobbed his head to the music and yelled out the lyrics, "Brass monkey! That funky monkey! Brass monkey junkie! That funky monkey!"
Mello on the other hand, carrying the vibrating radio upon his shoulder, made his way down the stairs in a less rambunctious manner. Though he was certainly not dirty in the least, he was still munching his usual chocolate bar and carrying himself with the air of one who thought he was terribly wonderful. His very looks screamed of a terrible lack of manners. It certainly didn't help that he wasn't averse to singing along with that dreadful song as well. "Cause I drink it anytime and anyplace! When it's time to get ill, I pour it on my face! Monkey tastes Def when you pour it on ice!" He drew out the word "ice", hissing it from between his teeth as he slid his body the side. Matt giggled at the sight of it, continuing with the lyrics as the two of them invaded the once quiet common room.
Roger was still partially hidden the doorway, and he watched with narrowed eyes as the events proceeded. Just how severe was their current state of uncivilized beastliness?
Near raised his head as the older boys approached him from behind. Without turning to look at them, he said, "It's very difficult to concentrate with that music playing so loud. You should turn it down Mello."
Mello's only response was to crank up the volume with a devilish smirk. The other children in the room began to mumble their complaints and got up from their seats to leave, as the troublemakers circled their bored looking victim like cannibalistic jungle natives around a bonfire.
At least, that was how Roger saw it.
"Hey Matt!" said Mello in a sing-song voice, and Matt called back to him from Near's opposite side. Mello went on, "I think we've found a girl!"
"Oh really?" said Matt, and perfectly in-time with the music he leaned down to put his arm around Near's shoulder. "Yo baby, what's up?"
"This is hardly amusing," said Near, as Matt squished him into a headlock and Mello set down the radio close by before bursting into the song's chorus. Matt pulled Near up to his feet before tossing him over his shoulder, which set the stage perfectly as Mello sang the line, "Step up to the bar, put the girl down!"
And down Near went, dropped to the floor, at which point Roger had seen quite enough. He marched into view and whisked up the radio, clicking it off as he said, "This shall cease at once!"
"Oh hey Roger," said Mello, not phased in the least by the interruption. Of course, this may have been due to the fact that he was somewhat distracted trying to choke down his laughter as Near gloomily rubbed his backside, upon which he'd been so rudely dropped.
"Wassup Ruuuvie?" said Matt, grinning mischievously. "Oh wow, I never noticed that before! Hey Mels, his last name is 'Ruvie', like 'groovy'."
Mello shook his head. "Matt, that's one of the lamest things you've ever said."
"Awww, but-"
"Enough!" Roger held up his hand for silence. Oh how was this ever to be done in only three days? "Boys, we are not barbarians in this house, and we certainly do not treat others in this uncivilized manner. I will be confiscating this." He set down the radio behind him with great finality, as Matt's mouth dropped open.
"But that's mine!" he said, as Roger helped Near to his feet and fussily readjusted his too-big shirt. "It was Mello's idea, why don't you confiscate something of his?"
"It was not my idea-"
"You are responsible for your own belongings Matt," said Roger, fighting off the urge to call him "Matthew". "This shall only be given back once I know you can possess it responsibly. I want apologies from both of you to Near."
"It was a joke," said Mello, as Matt mumbled an apology without further protest, regardless of how bitter he looked as he did so. "We were playing. But you know, I guess Near isn't used to that, since he's all anti-social and never plays with anyone."
Near gave Mello a very small glare over his shoulder. "I have observed that when playing with one another it is customary to at least try not to cause injury. You don't play very nice Mello."
Roger patted Near's head in an attempt at being comforting. "Now, now. Near is right Mello, we do not injure one another when playing. An apology, sir."
Mello rolled his eyes, beginning to sulk. "Fine. Sorry for hurting delicate girly little Near."
Roger sighed. "Must you always be so – ugh, never mind. There is something very important I must speak to you three about. Now…where did Matt go?"
"I'm right here!" said Matt, waving to Roger with a plastered-on innocent smile, having snuck off to sit with his back pressed to the basement door a good few yards away. "I'll just be sitting over here. What were going to say Roger?"
"Well, I was going to say that-" Roger cut off with a frown. "Now what is that scratching sound?"
"Rats!" said Matt quickly. "Just rats. I saw one this morning. A big one. They're all in the walls!"
"I could swear that sound is coming from the basement door," said Roger. Matt's smile tensed, and Roger put his hands sternly upon his hips. "Move away from the door at once."
"But it's really nothing!" said Matt quickly, refusing to move out of the way until the very last possible second as Roger marched forward and reached for the basement door's knob. "It isn't anything you should be worried about! Roger, really, you don't want to open-"
It was too late. As soon as Roger had the door opened a crack, a ball of muddy slobbering fur bounded out, nearly knocking him over and thoroughly dirtying his suit and the clean tile floor as it bounded its way across the room.
"What…w-what is…?" Roger stuttered, watching as the beast plowed over Near and licked his face as he lay passively between its paws. Mello was looking at the creature with an expression of shock and disgust, as if he was indeed looking at a giant filthy rat.
"It's a dog," said Matt slowly, trying to sound cheerful. "I found him out playing by the road and…well…"
"So you brought it in the house? This filthy thing?" Roger sidestepped the muddy paw prints as he crossed the room to grab the dog by the scruff of its neck and drag it off Near.
"Oh come on, Roger. I'll give him a bath!" said Matt despairingly.
"No. Absolutely not. I cannot have any more atrocities in this house, and certainly not with Elizabeth due here in three days. Oh, Lord help us, I'll need a miracle to accomplish this!" He attempted to push the dog back into the basement, but the happy thing tore away from him before he could manage it, skidding off out of the room. Roger threw up his hands in frustration, fully prepared to launch into a full-blown scolding in Matt's direction, but the boy had already taken off after the dog. Mello was close behind him, yelling, "Matt! You didn't tell me you found a dog! Why didn't you tell me?!"
Roger was quick to follow as well, as soon as he imagined the wreckage and chaos that beast could leave in its wake if allowed to run freely through the house. But the chase didn't last long. He swiftly found himself coming to a sudden halt, with both Matt and Mello already at a dead stand-still. The dog was nowhere in sight, but all he had to do was follow the boys' gazes to discover where it had gone.
They were staring toward the doors in front of them. The doors. The doors that were usually shut, but were at the moment unfortunately open. The doors beyond which lurked the most atrocious of all the Wammy's House atrocities.
The doors that led to L's room.
Mello crossed himself quickly, a little whimper rose out of Matt's throat, and even Roger found himself standing utterly still, waiting. There were several long dragging moments of silence, and then, slowly, a bare of bare feet came into view…
And L himself walked out of the room, carrying a plate of slobbered-upon and ruined chocolate cake.
"I was not aware that this house owned a dog," said L, poking at the cake with a fork and an irritated expression upon his face. "I would appreciate being informed of such things in the future, to avoid any reoccurring incidents of cake theft and demolition."
"Dogs can't have chocolate!" said Matt in a panicked voice, as the dog trotted from L's room licking its muzzle. L carefully stepped to the side as it passed, holding the plate further up out of reach, as if there actually remained something on it worth saving.
"Yes, yes, Matt calm down," Roger caught the dog by the scruff of its neck again, carefully leading it down the hall. "I'll have it taken down to the veterinarian's office and examined, everything will be fine. Alice will drive him there. I'll be back presently. No one get into anymore trouble while I'm gone!"
Roger and the dog disappeared off around the corner, leaving the two boys and one young man standing silently facing each other. Ahem, that is to say, three boys and one young man, as Near made his way out of the common room carrying his puzzle box. It was of course Mello who was the first to speak, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
"L, guess what? I got 100 percent on my math test yesterday," he said proudly. "That's as good as Near!"
"Very good," said L distractedly, crouching down to the floor as he continued to examine his cake, looking for any spot that the dog had not managed to touch. He sighed heavily. "Whoever owned that dog owes me cake."
"Oh, it was Matt's dog," said Mello quickly, and Matt's mouth dropped open as he began to stutter a protest. "But I'll get you cake." He put his hands on L's shoulders, then on his face, trying to get his attention away from the cake. "Oh, oh, and something else too! Yesterday, in English, I-"
"It wasn't really my dog," said Matt nervously, cutting Mello off in the middle of his boast. "But I'll get you new cake anyway. Sorry…"
"Your apology is accepted," said L, holding out his arm for Matt even as he finally focused his eyes on Mello's face. "I'm quite sure there's more in the kitchen. Near, perhaps you could get a slice for me?"
"I'd rather not," said Near bluntly, tangling his finger around a lock of his hair. "Mello and Matt have been being mean this morning; they should have to get it."
Mello's eyes widened as he whirled about. "We have not! You're just being a baby about it!"
"Wait a moment," L placed his hand on Mello's arm lightly. "Did they do you any harm, Near-chan?"
"We didn't!" said Matt and Mello in unison, trying to talk over Near's quiet voice as he dolefully explained the unfortunate story, complete with emphasis on the fact that he had been very carelessly dropped upon his backside. L tipped his head as he listened, then glanced between Mello and Matt, who gave him guilty smiles.
"He's clearly exaggerating!" said Mello, and Matt nodded quickly, refusing to give in even under the accusing looks of both L and Near. "We only teased him a little!"
"You know," L put his thumbnail between his teeth and gazed up at the ceiling. "I believe that once is once." Both Matt and Mello drew in their breath sharply, and Matt began to attempt to struggle out of the hold L's arm had around him. That formerly soft embrace had abruptly turned into an unbreakable hold, making the struggling quite useless. "What's that verse Mello?" said L, ignoring Matt's wiggling. "Something about an eye for an eye…"
"Exodus 21 verse 23!" said Mello, eager to prove himself, realizing too late that he had done nothing but add to L and Near's side of things.
"There, you see?" said L. "We can agree that it's perfectly just then."
"No we can't!" said Mello, though his disagreement didn't do him the slightest bit of good, as he still swiftly found himself upended beside Matt over L's thigh, as the detective resituated himself to accommodate them. "We can't agree on it! That was the Old Testament anyway, it doesn't apply anymore. Now if you just ask for forgiveness you're forgiven! S-so, so Dear Jesus and everyone else I'm sorry please forgive me, Amen!" He panted out the prayer quickly, his words running together. "There! Done! I'm forgiven! Justice has been served!"
"What about penance?" said L, tipping his head to get a look at Mello's face. The boy sputtered, trying to put together a proper argument for himself while he still had L's attention. Alas, a vain attempt, much like Matt's persistent struggling. L turned his attention back to Near, who was watching with a small amount of interest on his face. "You may deliver justice if you wish Near-chan."
"L, are you suggesting that I spank them?" said Near, as if he thought the idea completely ludicrous.
"Yes I am, seeing as you're too small to heft them up and drop them and if I did so it could inadvertently result in some injury they do not deserve."
Near pursed his lips a moment in thought, then said, "The idea doesn't appeal to me."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Yes, he is quitesure," said Roger, coming back into room in a clean suit. "And if he isn't quite sure, he certainly is now." He shot Near a look that clearly meant he'd best not disagree, then hauled Matt and Mello up by their shirt-collars as L frowned.
"I'm sure this qualifies as obstruction of justice," he said, as the two boys quickly put a safe distance between him and themselves. Mello, ever defiant, stuck his tongue out in L's direction the moment he was out of reach, while Matt breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now," said Roger. "I need all four of you to listen to me, and listen well. This is a very urgent matter."
"Is it about the dog?" said Matt, instantly alert.
"No, it is not about the dog," Roger rubbed his forehead, trying to get his thought back in order. "I received…eh…read a letter today that I was sent by an old friend of mine, Elizabeth Martin."
"Ahh, your old lover isn't she, Roger?" said L, looking up at the man as he remained crouched. Roger's face reddened.
"Hardly a lover…to think…what utter nonsense!" he said quickly, fiddling with his necktie to loosen it. Mello and Matt gave each other mischievous looks, and Roger said, "We were courting one another. We were not 'lovers' and we certainly were not…ahem…" He coughed pointedly as Matt began to giggle, amused by something Mello was whispering to him as he made an entirely inappropriate motion with his pelvis. "We certainly were not sexually intimate at any point in the relationship! This behavior is to cease at once!"
Mello burst into laughter. "I love how he put that! 'Sexually intimate'! Ha!" Though his laughter couldn't be stopped he muffled it against Matt's shoulder as best he could, at the same time partially hiding behind him from Roger's furious look. L put an end to the problem, snatching Mello back and covering the boy's face with his shirt to effectively silence him.
"At any rate," said Roger. "Regardless of the previous relationship between Ms. Martin and me, she will be coming here in three days time with her associates from the Board for the Proper Education of Youth. They will want to meet the House's top three students. And they expect. To meet. Gentlemen."
Mello peered out from under L's shirt with a disbelieving expression, Matt frowned in confusion, and even Near's eyes widened in surprise. "Gentlemen?" he said softly. "Defined as 'a man of breeding, or higher class'…"
"We must emphasize 'of higher class'," said Roger. "Elizabeth will want to see that you boys have had a well-rounded education. She will want to meet boys with knowledge of the great arts, of language, literature, and music. She will want…oh, come now Matt. There's no need for such an expression!"
Indeed, the boy's expression seemed far out of line for the situation. He looked as if he was ill. "But…but…" he said, then shuddered. "You mean we have to be dandies? Fops?!"
"Well of course the three of you must look presentable," said Roger. "I shall have to get you cleaned up a bit." He pressed his fingers into a steeple. "Now, I'll just put this in simple terms. When Elizabeth arrives, I need the three of you to be clean." Uncertain looks among the group. "Polite." A little groan from Matt. "Modest and humble." Mello's mouth dropped open in horror. "Well-dressed." Near's face twitched. "And, most important of all…obedient."
That sealed it. Doomsday had been announced, and it was Sunday the 27th.
In volume 13: How To Read in Roger Ruvie's profile it says he dislikes…children. No wonder! Poor Roger, stuck in a house of weird geniuses!
And you all know Matt has totally always wanted a dog. Come on, you can't deny it. He's a dog person all the way.
Mello is a cat person. (However, it was pointed out to me that he totally is not and would work better with a pit bull or ferret. So now I'm in love with the idea of him owning a ferret, which is an idea of pure brilliance. It could ride on his shoulder!)
Near would want a turtle. I can picture it perfectly! It's 100 percent his perfect pet! They could both just sit and stare at each other all day, plus it would move at his slow pace. They're also both introverts. No offense to Near of course, the cute little fluff-ball.
Okay, that's enough randomness out of me :)