(A/N:) HAI GUYS!

Thanks for clicking that little button which transported you magically to this story. I promise, you won't be disappointed!

Depressingly enough, however, this is my first story in the Death Note fandom (though more are sure to follow), so it might not be great, but I swear, I'm trying.

Being the scarily terrible author I am, I'll spare you any more failed annotations and skip right to the disclaimer. Mello, you're up!

Mello: Not until you give me that three-foot Swiss chocolate you promised.

Astreich: Mello, just do it, or I'll use my authorly powers on you! *waves hands in creepy way in front of face*

Mello: No.

Astreich: Fine, you know what? Fine. I do not own Death Note. Happy now?

Mello: Of course you don't own a Death Note. If you did, you'd be dead and I'd have it. *looks meaningfully at pistol*

Astreich: *sniffle* Is that really how you feel, Mello? After everything I've done for you . . . .

Mello: Which is what, exactly? You still haven't given me my chocolate . . . .

Astreich: *grins maliciously and pulls out three-foot chocolate, unwrapping foiland taking a bite*

Mello: No, Astreich, WAIT! I LOVE YOU, I REALLY DO! I'LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU!

Astreich: Fine. *tosses chocolate* You really shouldn't be cheating on Sayu, you know . . . . .

Sayu: What's that I hear, Mello? *cracks knuckles*

Mello: GULP.

And now, without further ado, I present to YOU, ladies and gentlemen, Red Bows.

CHAPTER 1: Hush, My Darling

The big red bow bounced hypnotically up and down in his vision, balanced precariously atop a short, black-haired girl's head. Her huge, innocent eyes beamed at him with brightness that could rival the sun's as she looked him up and down questioningly. Her face was contorted impossibly into an enormous grin, lit like a lightbulb and making it nigh on impossibly for him not to laugh, or at least smile back. She bounced expectantly from foot to foot, beckoning to something in her outstretched hand and waiting impatiently for him to relieve her of it.

He gingerly pulled the foil-wrapped object out of her grasp and looked it over, not understanding. "What is it?" he asked cautiously.

"Hah, you're funny!" she laughed. "Don't tell me you've never had chocolate!"

"Chock . . . . . . lit?" he questioned. The word was unfamiliar, but it was a warm word, a nice word, comforting in a way. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

The girl giggled. "Chocolate, silly. Here!" She ripped it out of his hands before he could protest and pulled back the thin layer of aluminum foil. The action revealed four rows of lopsided brown cubes, pressed together so they formed a single shape. He scowled silently at being called "silly" by someone who looked younger than he was, and snatched the candy away as quickly as she had in his anger.

Curiously, he sniffed at the stuff and then bit off a large chunk, not caring that it wasn't his. Immediately, a warm, sugary, yet surprisingly bitter sensation filled his mouth, and he closed his eyes in enjoyment at the new taste. Chocolate. Yes, he liked it a lot.

Before either of them knew it, the whole bar was gone and he was smacking his lips, wanting more. The girl, however, huffed indignantly. "That was Sayu's chocolate! You could've given her a piece you know," she grumbled, scoffing.

"Yeah, well, I don't share," he said, intending to annoy her. It worked.

"Meanie!" she yelled. Then, before he knew what was going on, she had flicked him in the forehead and was gone, running up the street towards the center of town and not looking back. The boy sat in dumbfounded amazement, staring after her until she had mounted a hill and was out of sight.

He had learned a few things that day that he would need when he became L's successor, but for now, two things raced through his mind.

Her name was Sayu and he had eaten her chocolate.

Brrrrr! Brrrrr!

Mello's eyes shot open as his hip-pocket began vibrating with vigor, shaking him out of his slumber. In fact, he didn't even remember falling asleep. He must've just dozed off during the long wait on the zebra-striped couch in the current Mafia HQ. Damn! he thought silently, scolding himself and checking his face to make sure nobody had done anything to him. He'd learned the hard way that falling asleep in the lounge was a very dangerous thing to do, especially if any of the other Mafia members had sharpies on their persons.

Slowly, he reached for his cell, and he could already feel his body tensing up again as he remembered the present situation. How had it gone? Had anything disrupted his plans? Or had it been a success? But no, he'd been planning this kidnapping for months, and nothing could possibly go wrong. He'd laid it out perfectly, because he was Mello. It had to be perfect. Right? He lifted the phone into the air by a little keychain he'd attached to it and pressed the small green button on the left side.

"What?" he said in a nonchalant, lazy voice that masked his nervousness.

"We have the girl you asked for, Mello. She's in the back. Now open the gates and let us in." Mello ended the connection with a tiny sigh of relief and looked up at the surveillance monitors. There, idling in front of the dilapidated old hideout was the black Sedan in which he'd sent his goons out. He zoomed the camera in on the driver's side and found that it was indeed one of his minions, and not a cop or someone who had found him out. Again, he breathed out a sigh. What a nuisance that would be.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkie on his right buzzed into life, and he picked it up, speaking to the guard at the garage doors before he'd even said a word. He knew what the man would say anyway, so why bother listening?

"They're friendly. Now open the doors and let them in, then instruct them to take the girl to the cell we arranged previously." He cut off the transmission abruptly and proceeded in watching the exchange, nodding to himself in a satisfied matter as they pulled the girl from the back door of the car, blindfolded, gagged and groaning. Of course he hadn't failed. Fail wasn't a word in Mello's dictionary.

And yet, watching them push her to the floor even when they knew she couldn't catch herself, he felt a small twinge of guilt bite at his gut. He couldn't fathom how it must have felt for the girl to be pulled out of her normal, wonderful (boring) world, captured, blindfolded, and taken to a place that could have been a universe away for all she cared. Where no one showed her the kindness and respect she was used to receiving. Where the people treated her like dirt, like she had suddenly found herself in the wrong century.

But then he shook his head and dispelled the thoughts. A hostage was a hostage, no matter how innocent or childish or terrified they looked. No matter what gender they were. Come on Mello, you've done this before. But even in his thoughts, he couldn't bite back the 'Not to a girl' which followed that sentence.

Mello sat up abruptly and swung over to a swivel chair closer to the many flat-screen monitors on the walls, leaning back and putting his feet on the counter in a very rude and unacceptable manner he enjoyed greatly. He frowned at the quality of the images before him; he'd known the cameras were not the greatest, but today they somehow seemed even more fuzzy than usual. An annoying situation, of course, but a very fixable one. All he needed to do was demand that the Boss buy new ones, as they were "crucial" to the operation. That method usually worked, and it was how he maintained his steady flow of chocolate bars into the hideout without having to pay a cent.

A sudden movement on the screens interrupted his musings. The blindfolded girl had stumbled and fell to the floor, and Mello watched as the goons laughed at her muffled moan of pain when she tried to get up and they pushed her back down. She then squirmed on the ground for a few seconds under their hard soled shoes, struggling, before apparently decided it was fruitless. The men absolutely guffawed when they kicked her non-too-gently onto her back and she lay meekly, face contorted into an expression filled with shock and fear. She froze, as though hoping that if she didn't so much as twitch, they, like Tyrannosaurii, would leave her be. That was not to happen of course, not with these beings closer related to apes than men.

Mello growled. He flicked out his phone once again in a very L-like fashion, speed-dialing the number 3, and wondering why he even bothered.

He watched while the burly goon with graying hair on the left of the screen dug around in his deep coat pocket, eventually producing an outdated cell that jingled happily with some crappy tune or other. He slid it open and gingerly put it up to his ear. "What is it, boss?" Mello heard the questioning tone both through the phone and the bugs placed all along the hallway. He was silently relieved that the man had remembered not to address him by his alias with the hostage around; what with all the threatening that came behind it, it was maybe the one instruction that had stayed within his mind.

"Stop spoiling the merchandise," he snarled menacingly. The man on the other end jumped up, as if electrocuted, obviously having forgotten that he was being watched. He looked around wildly in an attempt to locate the tiny cameras hidden throughout the hall, but failed miserably. Mello watched on in contempt. Why the Boss would even think to hire such idiots was beyond his understanding. But then again, they had served their purpose, hadn't they?

"We want her in good condition and alive for the exchange, so I suggest you start being careful." He made the menace in his voice apparent, clear to even the imbecile before him. It seemed to do the trick, as a shadow of fear crossed the man's face before he could reply.

There was a momentary silence on the other end, filled only by nervous breathing, then a muffled, "Yes boss."

Satisfied but also thoroughly annoyed, Mello spun around on his chair to face the rest of the room. In a few hours, he would have to interrogate the girl (Sayu, was it?) to find out if she knew anything he could use to his advantage on the Kira case, and he really didn't feel up to it. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed a little too bright, the various noises coming from surveillance a little too loud; he could feel a pounding headache coming on rapidly.

Maybe a little chocolate would help? He reached into a freshly delivered and already opened box to pull out a heavy, foot-long 63% cocoa Godiva. Practically ripping the foil off one edge, he snapped a piece between his teeth, savoring the dark bitterness. Contrary to popular belief, chocolate didn't have to be sweet to be good. Chocolate was chocolate, and it often put his mind off the many stressful things in his life, leaving him strangely at peace. He closed his eyes and stood up slowly, wondering if perhaps it could get rid of headaches as it could problems. His legs felt a little unsteady, as though he'd lost the composure he'd had just moments ago, but he regained his balance quickly and pushed through the doors, strolling out with his regular quick stride and calm air. Because he was Mello, and he could do anything he pleased.

They hadn't even bothered untying her. They had jumped her, tied her limbs so tightly they'd become numb, blindfolded her, gagged her, dragged her out God knows where, and thrown her onto the bare floor of someplace cold, which was where she found herself now.

To say the least, Sayu was pissed. She was pissed, terrified, uncomfortable, and in pain. But mostly terrified. And although she felt it didn't seem to fit her current situation at all, she had to admit she was just a tad curious. What was this place? Who were these people? Were they police who thought she was Kira? No, because 1), she hadn't given them any reason to think that, and 2), they would've done a formal arrest instead of mauling her in the middle of the night on her aimless walk around the To-Ho campus. But then . . . why was she here?

"Oh God," she mouthed, or tried to mouth, as a horrible thought crossed her mind: are they rapists? The terror returned with renewed vigor, and she clenched her fists until her manicured nails drew blood.

Then abruptly, she sighed with relief. If her abductors had been rapists, wouldn't they have already done their business and killed her in some way? In fact, in any other situation she could think herself through, she'd already be dead. Muggers? Dead or badly injured, but in her home city. Gangs? Raped and dead. Serial killers? Dead, obviously. Madmen with lots of power? Umm . . . . . survival was a possibility? I'm alive enough at the moment, she thought, tightening her muscles as though awaiting the gunshot that signaled the start of a sprint.

Out of everything her partly-concussed mind had dreamed up (her kidnappers had so kindly allowed her to hit her head on the floor when she fell and couldn't catch herself), she hated to say that the last possibility seemed the most probable. Unless . . . It hit her. Could it be . . . for a ransom, perhaps? It would explain why they haven't killed me yet. It's too much effort to kidnap person after person of importance and remain incognito about it, especially when you have to ship them off to a different country. Which I'm sure is what they did to me. But I still have to prove this theory before I make any drastic moves; otherwise, I'll just end up meeting my maker sooner than necessary.

Sayu let her mind drift off the topic, slowly losing focus and becoming fuzzy around the edges as the fatigue of the worst day of her life crept up over her. She wondered vaguely about where she'd been taken and if there was anything she could do about it. Well, after they'd shoved her into the back of a van (without a seatbelt. Just another little thing to add to her nauseating headache.), it pulled into an airport, most likely a private one. She'd figured this out after she recognized that sickening lurch in her stomach, which signified their leaving the ground. The shaky flight had hit turbulence several times, suggesting that it was a small plane, and took an unfathomably long and uncomfortable time. It was almost as lengthy as that one instance in which she'd flown to Europe on that continental tour as a child, to see the mountains and the ocean and the great cities.

That image of herself on a beach along the Atlantic remained ingrained in her mind as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and pulled over to let sleep take the driver's seat. When she was awake, she wished she was anywhere in the world except for this icy, hard floor. When she was asleep, she wished for an aspirin. All in all, she wished fervently that her kidnappers would at least take off the blindfold that shrouded her world in darkness, so she could check the leather watch on her wrist and see how much time had passed since she'd been stolen away. For some odd reason, she always felt nervous when she couldn't see the hour, like she was supposed to be somewhere and didn't know when to leave. Now, being cut off from even the most simple human wants, sight, movement, time, it felt like hours went by, when in reality, it could have only been seconds.

Finally, after drifting forever in the cold, silent blackness, she just couldn't take it. Her eyes betrayed her and leaked small, salty tears, even though she'd sworn to remain strong and unbreakable.

Are they . . . . . will they ever let me out of here?

It was her breaking point. Abrupt panic took over, and she began to scream wildly into the gag, kicking and thrashing like a fish stranded on land. She was fully awake, fully alert, and her head screamed at her to stop, though her body failed to listen. She kept on until her throat burned and she was gasping for breath to sustain consciousness through the coarse fabric in her mouth. Tears streamed down her face in little rivulets, and she felt broken, absolutely cracked in two. She sobbed silently, curling up in the fetal position (only with her arms behind her back) and rocking back and forth in an attempt to calm herself. Her fists clenched and unclenched violently, and she hyperventilated until stars of black spun across her vision, being unable to stop.

"So, are you finished?" Sayu froze in place, all her momentary panic dying away as it was replaced by a fresh wave of burning hope. In all the frenzy of her attack, she must not have heard the approach of the man that no doubt stood above her. Surely, he was here to save her? Untie her, at least? Relief flooded through the girl before she could attempt to stop it in case of a coming disappointment, warming her skin for the instant. For maybe half a second, she wondered how it was possible to feel all these conflicting, clashing emotions at exactly the same time, but she quickly pushed the thought away, instead lying still and waiting for the man who'd saved her from herself to make a move.

"Well get up, dammit! I know you're alive, and I'm not gonna bite." Hesitantly, she complied, sitting up slowly and facing the direction the voice had come from. She tilted her head up ever so slightly, in order to show him the discomfort she was feeling, emphasizing it. Sayu had always been a good actor, so giving the things she was already feeling a little more color was like eating cake: easy, fast, and almost enjoyable. She was pretty sure acting ran in the family: Light could make up a lie in a split second and not break a sweat, similar to her own abilities. She'd caught him in the act many a time, but never turned him in like the good little sister she was.

Without any warning, the blindfold was ripped from around her head. As the glaring light of the room hit her, Sayu squealed, wishing she could move her arms to cover her eyes. Instead, she grimaced and buried her face in her knees.

Or tried to. The man didn't give her a chance, yanking her head up by her hair and pulling the gag from her mouth with the same ferocity as he had the blindfold. Sayu was pretty sure she now had red ropeburn marks along her jaw. She flexed it painfully, coughing and trying to get the foul taste of the rag out of her mouth. Her face scrunched up in pain as she tried to block out the world that had suddenly attacked her senses, but when the man yanked her hair up once again to make her face him and look him in the eye, muttering something incoherent the whole time, it became too much.

Sayu's throat burned. Sayu's eyes stung. Sayu's scalp throbbed. Sayu's head pounded. And Sayu fell limp onto the floor by this stranger, not being able to take it any longer.

(A/N:) Aaaaaand there we go, chapter 1. How was it? I don't mean to be a review whore, but I can't help it. Actually, flames are welcome too! =D

-Astreich