Death Note:

Case of Chaos

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It's a classic case, really.

You ask me 'why?'.

I ask you 'why not?'

You say 'It's wrong'.

And I say… 'I'm not exactly a right person, Detective'.

There's a little bit of evil in everyone -- even you, I'm sure.

But I

I'm all evil.

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Rating: Teen/Mature. The story contains descriptions of murders which, for some, may be unpleasant.

I have spent quite an amount of time on research, trying to make everything believable. Most of the locations are all real, and so are the names of airports and hotels. Needless to say, I own nothing. I only use them. Some of the facts might be incorrect, but that's what licentia poetica is for.

I hope you will enjoy my game.

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1

Games Begin

"I'm not crazy."

That's the only thing she'd said as the police officer handcuffed her hands behind her back as four more circled her with guns pointed at her head. The reporters were all over the place, taking pictures and shouting, begging for some kind of statement. However, each and every one of them took a few steps backwards whenever her eyes met theirs and staid an extra feet away until her gaze shifted.

With a person like that, you can never be too careful, even if she was surrounded by five policemen, with extra two groups nearby. A total of 25 police officers, armed and ready to shoot at the sight of even the least bit of trouble.

Causing trouble, however, was the last thing she could do at the moment.

The reporters were yelling, cameras flashing, accidental witnesses in hysterics, policemen growling orders to one another. She blocked them all out, closing her eyes and focusing on the steady beating of her heart. Someone in the background demanded to skip the jail and execute her right away. Another voice demanded her to be hanged. Another one, a police officer, shook his head and said she's most likely going to prison for a long time after some tests are ran. Two men directed her towards the police car and pushed her in. One of them followed her inside, the other one went around the car and sat down on her other side. Soon the car was packed with men and she was surrounded. The driver started the car and they drove off, to finally lock the 'psycho girl' up.

It was late evening when the police car slowly came to a stop in front of the Vermont Asylum for the mentally ill. Two guards who were on duty that day, when asked about the ordeal later, said that they were confused as to why the car stopped a few feet before the building instead of driving up to the guards and through the gate, like it should have.

One of the guards decided to see what was going on. He left his partner and walked up to the car, squinting his eyes to see through the window. Only when he was right next to the vehicle did he see what was inside. It made him release a short scream and he took a step back, tripping on a rock and falling down while trying to hold his lunch back in his stomach.

The other guard ran up to him and also looked inside. He later confessed that he's seen a lot throughout his 5-years-old career as a guard in the 'psycho house', but what he'd seen there exceeded everything else.

Nothing could be noticed on the outside, but the inside of the car was dyed red. Everything was red – the steering wheel, the radio, the seats, the back seat, the bars that separated the front from the back, the roof, the floor. And the bodies. The four bodies of policemen were soaked with their own blood.

The second guard's voice shook as he re-told the events of that night. He took a moment to calm himself before he described the bodies. Throats slit. Countless gashes on the chests. One of them, who was sitting in the back on the left, had his inner organs exposed. The other one was missing the eyeballs and ears. The driver's hands were gripping the steering wheel, but were no longer connected to the body.

And everything was red.

And she was not seen by anyone ever since.

-

Five years later

"L?"

The detective's head lifted slowly and he threw a glance through his hunched shoulder at Watari, licking off the ice cream from the spoon.

"There is a phone call from detective Ken Anders."

L's face remained blank, though he did feel surprised. Ken Anders was also a detective, living and working in America, and even though he was not in the top ten of the best detectives in the world list (on which L himself was three times, occupying the first, second and third position under different names), he was definitely smart and clever enough not to put shame on himself.

The young man sat on the couch in his usual curled up position for a second longer before standing up and jumping off. Watari handed him the cell phone and L took it between his thumb and index finger. He brought it next to his ear.

"Yes?" he spoke in English, simply out of courtesy; he knew detective Anders, being half-Japanese half-American could speak and understand both languages perfectly.

"L, I need your help. I have discovered something..." Anders' voice was hushed and filled with anxiety "It's about the case of a mass murderer who had disappeared five years ago…" there was a pause "The Nameless Girl." He said it like it was her real name.

L immediately connected it with the right incident. "Caught after killing the commissioner and his wife while the two of them were on a walk, escaped after killing four policemen that were escorting her to Vermont Asylum for psychiatric tests the same day. Is said to be involved with the Delevan family tragedy and the massacre at the Rowland's bar." Then he added, as an afterthought "Suspected to be behind a total of 46 murders. Or more."

"Yes…" Detective Anders breathed out. "That's the one. The Nameless Girl."

The Nameless Girl could be taken as a myth, if it weren't for the bloody proofs she's left to show that she's very much real. She was a ghost. No one could get any information on her, anything. Before the police in the city of Brattleboro had arrested her, they didn't even know what she looked like. If the two police officers who had been on duty that fateful night, patrolling the streets, hadn't noticed the bodies of the commissioner and his wife, along with a girl standing next to them with a long sharp knife soaked with blood, she would have probably gotten away that time. Like the time before, and the one prior to that.

But she didn't. She just stood there, staring at the bodies, then looked up at the stunned policemen, a stoic expression on her young face. A few minutes later she was arrested. A few hours later she escaped.

No one knew her. No one ever heard of her or seen her before the murders had taken place. Her modus operandi was simple, and yet no one knew how - the Nameless Girl appeared, did the thing and vanished without a trace. She left people shaken and scared, until she showed up again and killed some more. And pushed innocent people into insanity. The victims were not connected in any way, so no one could predict where she'd strike.

A total of 46 victims in 4 different locations. First on the list was the bar, Rowland's, and although there are rumors that the Nameless Girl had begun to kill earlier, there is no proof. 1 bartender, 4 waitresses, 29 guests. Then there was the Delevan family; 6 people in their own home. After that was the commissioner and his wife, and, in the end, the four policemen who had the worst luck possible to be the ones to escort Miss Nameless to the Asylum.

Having the facts organized in his head, L asked Detective Anders to continue.

-

Detective Ken Anders arrived at the Narita International Airport in the city of Narita, Chiba Prefecture, at exactly 00:12. While still at the airport, he called the Mercure Hotel's reception to find out if the room he's booked while being at home (which he missed already) was available at such late hour, since he had arrived earlier than he'd thought. After hearing his room was ready and waiting, he took his suitcase and exited the airport. Outside, he caught the last bus and got off at the right stop. After a few minutes of walking, he finally reached the Mercure Hotel. He came up to the counter and after a moment of the usual formalities, he took the key to his room - number 201- and locked the door behind him. At exactly 6:30 in the morning, room service knocked to wake Mister Anders, just as he wished. When there was no reply, the woman used her own key to come in as Mister Anders insisted on being awoken at that particular hour. One minute later the woman ran down the hall, screaming for help.

The body of Detective Ken Anders laying on his bed with the covers - once pure white, now blood red - thrown around the room will be present in her nightmares for a long time.