Hullo everybody! Yay, my first Death Note fanfiction! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope to update ASAP ^_^
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters (unfortunately). This goes throughout the whole story, capiche?
Claimer: I do own my characters, though. Do not steal them, and I don't have to get my slingshot, mkay?
On with the story!
-X:x:X-
Another car parked parallel to the yellow tape tied between the old lamp posts. Many weary, bloodshot eyes glanced up from the evidence to observe the vehicle many of the investigators could only afford in their dreams. Many returned back to work, eager to document everything before the summer thunderstorms washed it all away. But the chief of the Savannah Police Department's eyes remained on the car's tinted windows. He was sure the greatest detective alive (perhaps to ever live) was reclined on its leather innards.
A grey head popped out of the ink-colored automobile, followed by the rest of the well-suited old man. He walked erect and tall, clutching a briefcase, the chief noted, into the crime scene.
Was this L? Was this the greatest detective on Earth? Was the chief looking into the wise and aged face of his hero and role model? At the man that had solved every case thrown his way like it was child's play? Just to think, L thought this murder was important enough to come all the way to this tourist trap of a city in lil' ol' Georgia! And the chief the first person ever to see him in person! Oh, just wait until the news hears abou-
A firm, wrinkly handshake broke his thoughts.
"Good afternoon sir. You must be Chief Joey Gnann, I presume?" the new arrival asked in a precise voice, to which the officer belatedly and lamely replied "Uh, yessir."
"Please, call me Watari," the elderly man continued. "As L's main associate, I would like to thank you for allowing us to examine this crime scene firsthand."
Realizing his assumption was completely wrong, Mr. Gnann let the admiring sparkle drain from his eye as he spoke to Watari. Gnann didn't even care if his Southern drawl showed. Who cared if L's associate thought he was a country hick?
"No, sir. The pleasure is ours."
"Well, we should get on with this then. I'll bring L out here."
Come on Joey, don't make a fool of yourself, Gnann thought behind closed eyes. He mentally checked himself, making certain he wouldn't screw this up from the Police Department. With no leads, they needed this guy more than anything, if they wanted to shut this case (and keep their jobs).
Joey Gnann opened his eyes, ready to gaze onto the face of greatness. He blinked, taking in his idol, a clean and streamlined….laptop?
Chief Gnann studied the computer screen, which sported an "L" in a fancy-looking font. He looked up at the old man holding the portable computer and offered a look of pure "Is this a joke?"
"Hello Gnann. I am L."
The police chief's eyes snapped back to the laptop as the eerie voice flowed from its speakers, a series of under- and over-tones from what the original voice would have been. Disguised.
"P-pleasure to m-meet you sir. Well, uh, I 'spose we'll send you some photographs of the scene for you to draw your own conclusions," the chief said, only slightly recovered. He had planned the whole meeting around L being there in person. Unless Watari has photographic memory and will relay it to the detective later or something … Gnann's reasoning was getting fuzzy, and he was confused overall by this situation.
"That will be unnecessary," the laptop replied, almost in a pur. "This is what the children nowadays call a "Video Chat." I can see everything through this computer's built-in camera, although all you can see is my insignia. Now, if you please, I would like to observe the corpse at once. We have little time to lose."
Chief Gnann, not quite so dumbstruck now, led the wrinkly assistant and the detective in the computer to the large tarp in the corner of the vacant lot. They trudged through the damp, soggy grass, past the rust old pick-up truck, and under the even older live oak. Gnann weaved through the crowd of police officers scribbling away at their notepads. The chief lifted the cover, revealing the mangled and bloody victim.
In a hotel room, only four blocks away, a man crouched on rather sleazy upholstery of a couch. The light from his computer screen was all that illuminated his pale face and black hair, since the blinds were drawn and all other lights were switched off. One hand rested on his blue-jeaned knee, the other feeding a forkful of strawberry shortcake into his mouth. He placed the fork on the now empty plate, and returned his eyes to the gruesome images on his laptop.
The first thing the man noticed, although the slight graininess of the footage, was the victim's eyes. Wide open and terrified. He took note of the three deep gashes on each side of the dead man's face. They somewhat resembled whiskers. He also noticed the edges of the ears had chunks sliced off, making them appear pointed like feline ears. As the footage changed angles, the raven-haired man saw a long metal chain around the corpse's neck, and the scratch-marks along its bare torso. A leash and claw marks, possibly?
"Someone has a cat fetish…" the man muttered, mostly to himself.
A hand attached to someone off-screen pulled the dead man's jaw downward, leaving the mouth open for the camera to see. Every one of the front teeth was filed to points. Through the mess of blood that stained the makeshift fangs red, it was clear that the tongue was missing. Chopped clean off.
While others might have gagged at this image, and it was clear that some people not in the camera's line of sight were indeed sick to their stomachs over the sight, the man remained calm. His dark eyes just observed the scene, much like a scientist might observe a new species of insect that might hold the cure to cancer.
"That is all I need," the man finally said aloud. The screen went blank.
The man shuffled to the room's tiny fridge and took a slice of cheesecake from the top shelf. He flicked on the lamp next to the couch and returned into his half-sit, half-crouch position. Right on cue, the cellular phone on the coffee table began to buzz, the word "WATARI" plastered on its screen. The man delicately picked up the phone, holding it with his thumb and index finger a ful inch away from his ear.
"What are your thoughts, L?" a familiar, precise voice asked from the other end of the line.
"I'm 62 percent sure the tongue wasn't removed to mail to family members, for proof of the killing," the man replied. "If it was, it would make more sense to use a appendage with something like a birthmark or a mole. Something that the relatives could recognize that belonged to the victim …. No, I believe it was for the murderer's personal enjoyment." He paused. "However, we cannot be sure until the victim is identified. That should be easy enough once my dear 'friend' is here."
"And Watari, please pick up my good 'friend' at the airport. Her flight should be arriving soon." He put an odd emphasis on the word "friend," almost sounding sarcastic or suggestive.
Watari gave him a "Yes sir" and hung up.
L sighed and nibbled his fingertips. Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was nervous. Hand him a rotten corpse and tell him to find the killer, and there's no problem. I would go as far as to say he'd enjoy that particular situation. But a hand L a live person- one he would have to trust for the next period of time none the less- and he's sick to his stomach.
L stared at his untouched cheesecake slice, preparing himself for perhaps his worst nightmare.
-X:x:X-
Please review! Constructive criticism is appreciated, but like I said this is my first fanfic. Don't completely butcher me, if you would be so kind. Thanks!
-Lesser