This piece of literature is not affiliated with Death Note or any of it's franchises and may or may not relfect my own personal views. This is simply my own re-interpretation of the renowned serial killer, Beyond Birthday. As you will see, I believe he is cynical, brutish, and very intelegent. In other words, lethal.

Enjoy, and do tell me what you think. -::3 Love, Mono

.Prologue.

It has recently come to my attention that there are quite a few rumors surrounding myself; about my life, my crimes, and my death of all absurd things. It is unfortunate that I have had to write this, especially given my current (less than desirable) physical state – but considering the amount of intimacy certain little bastards have tried to associate with my own acts, I feel it is nothing less than appropriate. If you are reading this, thinking that it is going to be like that piece of crap "Death Note: Another Note," you are most mistaken. It does suit my purpose to detail exactly what Beyond Birthday did; what I did. L's feeble mind has no place in the literary pantheon his successors have placed him on, and I intend to exploit their mental downfalls as well as his. If you have no interest in the cold, heartless, truth of three murders, or in the apparent flaws of a certain childish investigator, then I advise you turn back now. Close the book, exit out of the page, and forget that you have ever come across the tale of Beyond Birthday – a fairly unknown, yet very dangerous serial killer. Nevertheless, if you choose to keep reading, then bear in mind that I don't care why you have come across this, and I don't intend to write as though I have your precious justice in mind.

In fact, in the words of another tragically famous literary bullshitter, to hell with L; what matters to me is that he has long passed…

Pity though, that it was not by my hand.

So what do I, a certain Back Up, have to gain from writing this? Nothing, really, and for all of you avid L supporters, I hope my words are pouring salt in your wounds. The World's Greatest Detective is dead, and I, his most abject nemesis, am not. Bitter though I am, I've always been one to gloat – only now am I being more direct in doing so. Amusing really, considering the risk this may pose to me if ever actually published (though who will even consider to publish the admissions and pride of a man covered in blood?) but I doubt it will be a problem. I was modeled to be his almighty's successor, after all. It makes me nearly untouchable in my intelligence.

Moving on; the chronicles that I am going to describe to you will give you further insight into L's life, as I was a large part of his early years. No other than my actions, and case, help to show more about L's personality and personal shame; which may be the only thing Mihael hit on the nose in his own incomplete version. Presumably, you will walk away from this no less educated than you were before – you will know my motive so thoroughly that the blood on my hands will be stained into the bleached white canvas of your minds; and, if I am eloquent enough, perhaps you will even come to hate me as well. Most people do; it is the sad fact of the general public that all murderers are considered taboo, no matter how legitimate their reasoning may be. Though, to be fair, I will not sit here and pretend that I did not enjoy the killings. The thrill of quarrying my prey, of flaunting exactly where I intended to strike far before I actually did so; it's all rather delicious, and I probably would have decided to commit murder whether or not I had been fast-bound to L's shadow. With that out of the way, perhaps I should formally introduce myself, as my counterpart did.

You have probably guessed by now that I am the vile being in question, Beyond Birthday; known by most at Whammy's House as Back Up or B – though I refuse to go by either of those aliases anymore. Another runner-up, I suppose you could say (even if I believe that I have more than expressed my superiority by now). However, I have made my life in my own terms, unlike others in my position I have never subjected myself to the awe and adoration of a person whom is not under any circumstances better than me. He might have been a great detective, but the only reason he was deemed 'L' was because he was found first; because he was convenient. If given the same opportunity and timing, I am sure I, and more than likely a multitude of the other successors, could have been more prudent with the title. Yet this is not about the other successors, this is more about L and me – pitted against one another in a very private, albeit very bloody, battle of wits. This is about Kira, whose smarmy justice took away my ultimate chance at revenge. This is about everything I have exacted to get to this point; every detail I have or had planned, and possibly many of the things I still intend to do. I may have once been known as the obligatory Back Up to another man's genius, but now you may address me as BB. A warped and twisted mind all of my own.

Keeping that in mind, I hope you do not expect me to keep up one of these god forsaken narrative voices throughout the entirety of this piece. I am not here to walk you through anything. If you hope for me to act as your guide to my life, or otherwise, then you have made another mistake. I have no intention of drawing this story out any longer than it is meant to be (unlike a certain way my aforementioned counterpart managed to). You will be presented with truths, with thoughts, with actions that are no less than precise – I will not be sugar coating every supplement in a positive style; this is no tribute (to myself or otherwise). This is the second side to another story you have read, a note beyond 'Another Note' – directly from The World's Greatest Criminal's pen, to you.