Author's Note: Just a quick list of disclaimers and credits.
Death Note does not belong to me.
All OCs are either owned by me or co-owned with my amazing editor, Brat.
These are characters, not real people, and their names were mainly gotten from random name generators. If you share a name with a character that gets brutally murdered, my apologies in advance.
Again, these are characters, not real people, and their opinions and views are not my own nor ones shared by my editor. If a character offends you, remember that they may or may not get brutally murdered at a later time and thus receive some form of karmic justice from that.
There is brutal murder in this story, including and not limited to, heart attacks, stabbings, and the occasional bullet to the head. The faint of heart have been warned.
Chapter 1 – Of Espressos and Notebooks
J enjoyed the pleasant winter air as she walked down the street. It was nice to be able to take her mind off the case she had been working on for the past few weeks. Walking into Starbucks, she took in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baking pastries. J prepared to get in line with the morning crowd waiting for the day to start. To her surprise, one of the baristas waved her over. Singled out so suddenly, J hesitated before walking up to the counter. The barista greeted her enthusiastically, "Good morning, Ms. Costa. One doppio espresso con panna and a chocolate croissant, right?"
The food was already on the counter, the espresso still gently steaming. J did not know what to think about the situation, opting for a quiet, "Thank you."
She reached into her purse to pull out her credit card but the barista shook her head. "No need. It's on the house."
The barista smiled eerily, the sight stirring up memories of long faded nightmares. The happiness on the young woman's face seemed out of place. Not an artificial emotion but there for the wrong reason. Gingerly taking the offered bag and cup, J quickly left Starbucks. The barista called something after her but J could not make it out, nor did she really want to.
Once she was over her initial shock and confusion, J mentally slapped herself for forgetting the barista's name. She had never been good with names, but at least she was good at remembering faces. She thought about the barista, picturing the young woman in her mind. She had an oval shaped face, a clear peach completion, dirty blonde hair verging on ash, and round blue eyes.
Suddenly a teenager crashed into her. Her coffee flew out of her hand, splashing all over the ground. J turned to yell at the teenager but he had already disappeared into the crowd gathered at a street corner.
Muttering angrily to herself, she noticed a red notebook lying on the ground near her spilled coffee. J assumed it belonged to the teenager – as there was no one else nearby to drop it and her sharp eyes had not noticed the bright spot of color before – so she picked it up. If it was important, he would have to track her down and apologize if he wanted it back.
J made it to her office without any further mishaps. Sitting at her desk, she ate her croissant and poured over a stack of case files.
Ten deaths in just eight days, yet not a single lead had been found. It was times like these that J doubted either her skill as a detective or the case itself. This time she was leaning more towards the case.
Four weeks ago, Carl Green died in his downtown Houston apartment of cardiac arrest. The following day, Mary and Candace Kramer died in their dorm at Rice University, also of cardiac arrest. Two days later, Cindy Bell suffered from cardiac arrest and died in her office in a branch of the Wells Fargo bank. Toby Hopson, Erica Hunt, and Steward Voss died the next day in their homes, all of cardiac arrest. On the eighth day, Albert Garner, Michael Cole, and Rosanna Madison died while at work or home, of - you guessed it - cardiac arrest, yet again.
The common cause of death was the only thing that linked all of the victims together. Their families insisted that it had to be murder because of this. Needing the money, J accepted the case. Now she regretted it. It was going to be another long day. Her office was too small to fit all of the families so they had all agreed to meet at a hotel that was conveniently within walking distance from J's office. It was still a rather long walk and the crowds at the street corners slowed her down enough to make her late for the meeting.
Carl Green's family seemed to be the most vehement about the murder theory. They insisted that one if the tenants of the apartment building Green owned had either killed him or hired someone to do it. J tried to calmly point out the flaws in that argument but made little headway. At one point Green's widow broke in hysterics and started shouting that J herself was the killer. The parents of the Kramer sisters were also rather forceful about the murder theory but were much calmer about it. They reasoned their "brilliant and beautiful" daughters were killed by some jealous classmates.
The other families had been dragged into the whole conspiracy by the Green and Kramer families and sat around awkwardly. J tried to get as many answers out of the collective group as she could.
Did any of the victims know each other, beside the obvious? Who would want to kill any of the deceased and due to what motive? Did the deceased have any significant mutual friends or enemies? Had the deceased committed any crimes creating the possibility for vigilantism?
To J's surprise, the last question created the most answers. All of the victims did have criminal records to some extent, mainly minor things like traffic violations or public intoxication. Most notably though, was that Albert Garner had spent some time in jail for assault and Michael Cole had done time for manslaughter. In law, those crimes were severe but nothing to warrant capital punishment.
No further breakthroughs were made during the rest of the meeting. J was satisfied with the one though, and hoped the toxicology reports on the deceased were waiting at her office when she got back. If the source of the heart attacks could be found, then actual progress could be made.
J found the door already unlocked when she arrived back at her office. She shoved the key in her hand back into her pocket and took out a can of mace. Opening the door, J flicked on the lights and walked down the short entrance hall, past the stairs that lead to her small flat above. The intruder was waiting for her in the office, lounging in the guest chair with his feet propped up on her desk.
Shifting her stance, J hissed, "I'll give you ten seconds to turn around and explain what you're doing here or I'm spraying you with mace and calling the cops."
The intruder turned to look at her. Even in the gloom, she could recognize him as the teenager that had run into her that morning. The young man gave her a lopsided grin. "No need for any of that. I just want to talk."
J raised the can of mace. "BS. Give me the real reason."
"That is the real reason. You weren't here so I invited myself inside. Gets cold at night."
Keeping the mace level with the intruder's face, J asked, "What do you want to talk about?"
The teenager's grin widened, almost unnaturally so. "Now we're getting somewhere. It's about my note you see. You found it so it should rightfully be yours. The finer details of the arrangement just need to be clarified now."
The teenager tossed J the notebook and she deftly caught it. Spidery handwriting scrawled across the cover. The silver ink spelt outs the words "Death Note". Tracing the letters with the tip of a finger, she recalled her high school obsession; a murderous notebook, a wannabe god, and the greatest detective of the century.
Nodding slowly, J tried to make sense of the situation, "Right now I see three possibilities. One, you are mentally disturbed and I should be calling the men in white coats. Two, you are a hallucination caused by sleep deprivation. Three, this is happening and I am honestly holding a notebook that can kill in my hand. Please tell me it is not the third option."
"It is. Want the power to become a god?"
"No." The response was automatic, long ago ingrained into her mind. J looked down at the notebook clenched in her hand. "I'm no killer, and I'm not righteous. I became a detective for a reason and that was to stop the psychos that would answer yes to that question."
The teenager stood, his grin turning into a satisfied smile. "I was hoping you would say that." Offering a hand to her, he asked, "Want to become a god-slayer then?"
J put the mace back into her purse and glanced at the Death Note. Now she was remembering more about the manga she had loved so much as a teenager. Odds were she would die in the next couple of years, if not within the week if she was outmatched. Might as a well go out with a bang. She took the hand. "That, I can do."
"We have a deal, then."
The teenager stepped into the light and J watched his appearance change. The skin on the left side of his face faded, revealing the polished white bone underneath. His clothes rippled, tearing and reforming into a rather fluffy black jacket and a tight pair of leather pants. A name popped into J's head and she blurted out, "Mello."
The Shinigami laughed and said, "You're good."
J flicked on her desk lamp and sat in her chair. Mello resumed lounging in the seat across from her. Leafing through the empty pages of the note, she asked, "How were you able to do that earlier? You know, look like your old self?"
Mello shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "While notes are on Earth but unclaimed, an appropriately ranked owner can take human form if they remember what they used to look like when they were mortal. It is normally to retrieve it or in my case, to scout out an appropriate choice for a human owner. I can't have another 'god of the new world' on my hands, now can I?"
J opened a drawer in her desk and shuffled through it as the Shinigami watched with a slight look of amusement. She found what she was looking for at the very bottom. It was "Death Note Volume 13: How to Read". Mello raised his single eyebrow in surprise. "You're a bit of a fan."
Lost in thought, J muttered, "I got this when I was in high school. I haven't touched this thing in years. I put it there for inspiration when I first opened my agency, for fun mainly. A bit serious too, I guess. Lost the name card, though. Still pissed about that."
Mello stood. "Well, get some rest. I have stuff to do, but I'll be back in the morning."
Walking through a wall, Mello disappeared into the night. J turned off her desk lamp and closed the drawer. Still carrying Volume 13 and the note, she locked her door and went upstairs to her flat. Lying in bed, J poured over Volume 13, refreshing her memories of the Kira case and memorizing every weakness and rule she could. Walking over to her closet, J entered it and moved some old jackets aside. It wasn't there in the pocket of her fluffy black jacket where it should have been. J looked through some boxes, still unpacked from her move and found one labeled Wells.
Her high school box was filled with science fair trophies and debate team metals. Moving her letterman jacket to the side, she uncovered her anime club stuff. In the smaller box was her Death Note Manga set, a strawberry jam jar with a pair of fake eyeballs in it, and a string of red and white rosary beads. Taking the "How to Use It" guide out of the box, J returned to her bed, kicking off her shoes halfway there. She fell asleep reading the "How to Use It" guide with her note on the bedside table.