Phew, this is a pretty big project I've taken on here. I'm going to try to basically rewrite the entire LABB Murder Cases book from L and B's perspectives. Something I've always thought about doing, but only now decided to execute it. I expect it will be very interesting though, and I hope you guys enjoy it just as much (and preferably more) as I do! By the way, review definitely encourage me to write faster... so be kind and review? Or B will sneak into your house at night and... I don't know, turn you into a clock.
Well, let's get started, shall we?
Beyond the Murder Cases
Prologue
L's pale, thin fingers flipped through the files adeptly, the documents making almost no sound as his fingers weaved in and out of the papery forest. Solved, solved, solved, solved, in progress, solved, solved… in his mind he mentally checked off all of the cases that he had recently closed. He sniffed and ran his free hand through his raven hair. He was at a low point in his 'career', if you could call it that. He had very few cases to work on at this point, and he was thirsting for a challenge. The most recent case had concerned an emerging bio-terror group, but the difficulty level had been unexpectedly low. Other than that, same old stories; serial killings, serial killings, serial killings. When you got to be at L's caliber you rarely even thought about solving such insignificant cases as strings of robberies and drug rings; those normally didn't have a lot of people's lives or money at stake. Thus, L received almost a constant stream of cases about serial killers. Problem was, even the best serial killers couldn't provide a real challenge for L. As a result, he was, well, bored a lot more than you would expect the top detective in the world to be. He licked his lips and sighed softly. I'm craving some strawberry shortcake… he stood up, stretched and walked off down the metallic, cold hallway, easily making his way through the dark hallways toward the kitchen of the underground facility. Normally he would ask Watari to serve him his food, but he had nothing better to do now, did he?
As his fingers closed around the cold door handle of the fridge, his cell phone rang, each tone echoing eerily in the kitchen. L shoved his free hand into his pocket, grabbed the phone, opened it and held the phone to his ear, holding it only with his thumb and index fingers.
"L, it's Watari. I think you might want to take a look at this case. I'm sending the files to your computer now."
"Thank you, Watari," L said shortly, then turned off the phone, not even bothering to put it back in his pocket. He simply opened up the fridge and peered in, taking his time, not expecting the new case to be anything significant.
He was wrong.
He sat down at his computer with his coffee and his cake, turned it on and reviewed the files. At first glance, it looked normal. Code Beta, of course, Designation Quadrant 3, Area 13, in other words, LA, casualties so far… three?! L straightened abruptly and stared at the number. Three? Only three casualties? Why would Watari…? A jolt of electricity shot through L's bones when he glanced at the summary of the case. Two words stood out among them all. Wara and Ningyo.
"Oh, gods," hissed L, and he slammed his coffee cup against the floor. "So, the snake finally shows emerges from its hole?"
L stuck his thumb into his mouth and nibbled madly. How long had it been since adrenaline coursed through his veins so rapidly? How long had it been since a case had aroused him so much? Maybe never? And no sooner than the great battle between himself, Dueneve and Coil, which had been about four years ago…
Nostalgia overwhelmed L as he thought of the first time he had ever seen B. It had been quite a while ago, right after A had committed suicide. L had decided to visit Wammy's and personally inspect the students, the teachers and the orphanage itself. He didn't call himself L, of course, but rather said he was one of the few in contact with L and he was inspecting Wammy's personally. At the time only B and C were present, and they were both exceptional students. C seemed normal by Wammy's standards, but B… now there was an enigma.
B was extraordinarily intelligent. Maybe even as smart as L when L had been his age. He could compute calculus accurately in his head and did geometry for fun. He was absolutely fascinated by the sciences, and would often go on solitary walks through the woods behind Wammy's, studying the creatures and making note of every small detail. Nothing escaped his sharp notice.
Now that's all well and good, but B also had some… dark tendencies. At night L often heard him walking through the halls at Wammy's, humming melancholy tunes and singing haunting melodies about death and grief. He had also glanced at some of the books B read in his spare time. Their titles were such as The Art of Murder, Science of Death, Blood on my Hands. He was also always a bit too eager to be the murderer in the roleplays at Wammy's that were meant to sharpen their investigation skills.
One other thing disturbed L to no end; B held a fascination with superstitions and items pertaining to that of the supernatural world. He always seemed to be searching for truth even outside of science, as if there was something that troubled him that science could not explain. The few times L had been there, B had been intrigued with the Japanese Wara Ningyos, and had been experimenting with them. Of course, the experiments failed, but it still perturbed L. Anyway, the fact that Wara Ningyos were being used in the case couldn't be the only reason that Watari had sent L this case. As L read on, he was thoroughly amazed at the lengths the murderer, presumably B, went to.
One, the locked doors. It was so obviously murder; the first time the victim's chest had been slashed multiple times and strangled from behind, two feats that were practically impossible to do by oneself, and certainly impossible to do both to yourself. The other two murders were committed by bludgeoning and massive hemorrhaging, neither viable suicide methods. So what was the purpose of the locked doors…? Simply to show it was done by the same person? No, the Wara Ningyos did that. Maybe he wanted to make this case so eccentric so that I would know that it's him… As L read over the police files some more, he also read that every fingerprint in the house had been wiped. Maybe just a precaution, but going as far as wiping light bulb sockets…? Beyond eccentric and into psychotic, no pun intended. Again, was B only showing L that it was really him? Then L saw the names of the victims. Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash? BB, QQ, BB? Oh B, it couldn't be a coincidence… Wara Ningyos, extreme eccentric-ness and now Bs and Qs? Q also had an inside meaning. One assignment at Wammy's had been to pick a letter and to try and put into words what you felt or thought when you heard the letter. A seemingly simple task, but yet not so simple. You couldn't just say 'Q reminds me of queen' or 'B reminds me of barbeque'. You had to explain the emotions that were aroused when you thought of that letter. In order to do so you had you cast aside the limitations that this one letter seems to have and think of it as a concept on its own. It required a kind of thinking that was rarely explored but the kind that was a requisite at Wammy's. B, always one to go over and beyond, had chosen two; B and Q, and had explained in very eloquent paragraphs the kind of mysterious and lost feeling he felt when he thought of the simple letter 'Q', especially. It was so intricate and deep it had almost blown L's mind. Not the essay itself, but the depth of B's feelings on something as seemingly simple as a letter.
It's truly you, isn't it? L ran his hands nervously through his hair again, wincing as his hands got caught in the amazingly tangled hair and and the strands yanked at his scalp. This was clearly a direct challenge to him, and he couldn't, wouldn't let B beat him here. I absolutely must get this lunatic apprehended and imprisoned… I must.
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The knife sliced through his skin rather easily. The shirtless man winced slightly, but otherwise enjoyed the pain. It made him feel so alive. So L, found me yet? Heh heh heh… no, much too generic… hak hak hak… no, much too… cough like. Ha ha ha… again, too generic and happy… oh, screw it.
He stopped attempting to perfect his laugh and dragged the knife down his arm a little farther, then lifted the instrument above his head and stuck out his tongue, savoring every drop that slowly dripped onto the stationary, wet muscle. Is there really any better taste that blood? Well, yes, jam I suppose, but blood is just so… it just embodies life. The river of life, the fountain of youth that runs through every man, woman and child, but can be wrung out so easily. Human kind is so weak… faced with the simple fact of death so brutally and abruptly every day conditioned you to that fact. A few drops of warm blood slid down his throat. He closed his mouth, set the knife down beside him and sat up, then sneezed. Ugh, it's so dusty in here… the concrete is just covered with the stuff. He had never gotten carpet added into his apartment. He just liked concrete more. Hard and cold, just like me.
"Kyah kyah kyah!" He let out a short, staccato laugh then easily leapt up into a standing position. He walked over to his desk and accessed his computer. Mmhm, mmhm, boring, boring, ah hah! L.A. Serial Locked Room Killings…. Yes, it's about me… seriously now, such a mundane name? And they only wrote about two paragraphs on it? It doesn't even begin to shed light on my genius… most people are such idiots. A drop of blood ran down his fingers and onto his mouse, making it somewhat difficult to click. He clucked his tongue. No, not quite right… he clucked his tongue again, but this time with a bit more force and more to the left than the middle. Ah, much better. Amazing how people go through life without worrying about such details. He shut down his computer without bothering to wipe the blood off his mouse and laid back down on the concrete floor, this time twirling the knife above his head, knowing that if he dropped it, it might impale his face or stomach. He knew that he wouldn't drop it, of course, but what was the purpose of doing something if there wasn't even minimal risk involved? Then you wouldn't do it to your fullest potential and then, well, why are you even doing it?
He sighed enormously, wiped his arm and bound it up with a roll of gauze that was sitting nearby. Normally he wouldn't worry about such things, but he was going back to the scene of the first crime now and didn't want the cut to alert anyone who might come. The police have been there, filed a report, and Watari's probably gotten it to L right now…. However, the chance is low that he's chosen someone to investigate it for him just yet. Still, I should be there, just in case. He walked over to the mirror and started applying the heavy, white make-up that would hide his tanned complexion.
And he laughed.