The door slammed behind them.
He could feel the adrenaline and power coursing through him; could still see in his mind's eye Near's lifeless body, lying prone and defeated on the floor. Could still see that gaze, which had once had the nerve to look at him in such a calm and confident manner, but which was now glazed over, eyes rolled back and frozen in surprise. A crumpled heap of white fabric and pale hair.
No, he would never forget that sight.
He laughed, but it was a sound borne of triumph and satisfaction; utterly devoid of joy, and it echoed around the empty room hollowly. He took a step forward, and trailed a hand lightly across the cold control panel. Of course, he'd had to come back. The NPA's headquarters - or rather, former headquarters - held too many memories to be discarded without an appropriate farewell.
From this, one might jump to the conclusion that he somehow had a sentimental side; this is not the case. It was simply his competitive pride wanting to exalt in its victory and savour the sight of this long-endured room, now forever empty of those fools who had inevitably been rendered useless to him.
Light smiled darkly, and turned to face the single other presence in the room.
"Mikami." The other man had remained completely silent since they had arrived; had just stood, watching Light with slightly unfocused eyes, dark hair still uncharacteristically unkempt, a strange semi-smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Look around. Think of the SPK. All opposition has now been eliminated... what do you think this means?"
There was a pause as Mikami's gaze flickered momentarily from side to side, before returning to settle once more upon his idol. "Justice... uninhibited justice. God can now do as he wishes, and destroy every last one of the unrighteous."
Light smirked at the fervour in that voice; at the enraptured gleam in those focused dark eyes. Here was one he could trust - at least for the moment - and since he had the eyes, Mikami could continue to be very useful indeed.
"...come here."
Mikami moved towards him obediently, footsteps echoing in the silence. Light reached out and grasped Mikami's tie, winding it around his hand and tugging downwards a little until their eyes were on a level.
"If I told you do write your own name in the Death Note, what would you do?"
"Write it. My life is yours." Mikami replied without hesitation, pupils dilated, grin slowly widening.
Light pulled him a little closer, until their faces were merely centimetres apart. He noticed smugly that Mikami was trembling, and his eyes narrowed in interest.
"...and if I told you to write my name?"
Mikami's entire countenance changed; he heard the sharp intake of breath; saw the flicker of panic that flashed across Mikami's face at the mere mention of this sacrilege.
The answer was crucial.
"...if... you commanded me to, I would."
Good. Light had no time for those who blindly thought they knew better than to follow his orders.
"In that case," Light murmured, releasing Mikami's tie with a small smirk, "I shall accept your help for what is to come."
He let his gaze linger as Mikami's lips twisted into that darkly beautiful deranged smile, and wondered idly about at what point he'd finally snapped. Something had broken in that organised, controlled mind, and now it seemed Mikami felt no compunction about letting his adoration and devotion show.
But of course, it was only what Light deserved. Mikami was his tool, and it was only right that he should need Light like an ordinary human needs air.
And, unlike Misa, Mikami never asked for anything.
The room was barely lit, and the screens around them were dead and black.
No, Light did not appreciate being asked for things; it was not his place to give, only to take. Which is why Mikami...
He gripped Mikami's shoulders and pulled him forwards, before turning around without warning and pushing him roughly against the control panel; he was met with no resistance, and Mikami just gazed up at him; eyes wide and strangely bright, through his messy hair from where he was now leaning, breathing heavily.
...was so perfect.
Light would now be able to get what he wanted, when he wanted it, always. Near, Mello, L... all dead. Because of him - and now no-one would dare challenge Kira ever again. Yes... Light felt the grin spread across his face, felt the laughter spill helplessly out of him as the images flashed through his mind.
So it was with L's frozen visage burned into his mind that he grabbed Mikami's collar and violently brought his face up to meet his own, lips finding Mikami's instantly. It was hardly a kiss; rough and demanding against Mikami's pliant mouth.
Mello's sketchy face, going up in flames as Light gripped both of Mikami's wrists and, with one hand, pinned them up above, imagining those shrieks of pain. He felt the haze of power falter slightly as a quiet moan escaped from Mikami, and reached up with his free hand to tangle it in the other's hair, pulling backwards to expose the curve of Mikami's shadowed throat.
He leaned in, tongue tracing the path of a thin, pulsing artery beneath that tanned skin, teeth grazing over that constant, rhythmic sign of life. It was all so fragile; so fleeting.
And he could extinguish it in forty seconds.
Near... Near had died without a sound, clutching at his chest. Light grinned and released Mikami's hair, hand instead trailing down to slip under that stiff shirt, fingers scraping their way up the soft skin of his torso, to rest over that rapidly beating heart. Near's heart would never do such a thing again. He could feel Mikami's hot breath on his cheek, and it contrasted deliciously with the cold images of death which lurked at the forefront of his mind.
He drew back a little, hand still lingering, watching Mikami's half-lidded eyes; his flushed cheeks, and feeling the rise and fall of that warm chest beneath his fingers.
The control provided him with a sense of satisfaction and power that nothing bar the Death Note could match; Mikami was helpless before him, demanding nothing yet taking anything.
And it was with a cruel smile touching his lips that he withdrew his hands and turned away, knowing that Mikami would not dare to reach out for him again; would not even think it. Just as it should be.
"Yes... Mikami..." he whispered, clenching his fists, the faces of those who had opposed him reflected in his wild gaze, staring into the darkness, "with you by my side, I shall create the perfect world."
Behind him, Mikami straightened and bowed his head, now perfectly still apart from his right hand, which he flexed convulsively as though longing to hold a pen again.
The stark room was dark and lifeless, and Light tired of it, though it had amused him for a while. He preferred to relive these things in his head, after all, and it would soon be time to move on.
And so, Light walked out of the building into the bright sunshine, Mikami beside him. The time for hiding in shadows was over - Kira's time was truly about to begin.