Haruko here! :3 Welcome!
So, we're here to begin the first installment of our lovely joint-fanfiction, with Gevanni of the SPK and Naomi Misora of... the FBI (oh yeah and the LABB Murder Cases). We hope you enjoy the chapter written by Haruko, and tune in soon for the next chapter, which is currently being written by the awesome that is Fire!
( In case you, the lovely, beautiful, fabulous (okay I'll stop) reader of our fic, have not heard, Fire is writing for Gevanni and I, Haruko, and writing for Naomi Misora. Fear our greatness D )\
We hope it's not to short... It looked longer when I wrote it D: but have fun reading nonetheless.
DISCLAIMER: We don't own Death Note, the FBI (who the hell owns the FBI anyway?), leather dress shoes, or manila fol— wait, I actually do have some manila folders. BUT YOU GET THE PICTURE.
August 22nd, 2003.
It was one year to the date since that day. The day the LA murderer was brought to justice. The day she rushed to prevent the fourth murder while at the same time saving the life of that murderer known simply as B. The day that she would work for the last time under the world-renowned detective L.
And the day Naomi Misora realized that for her, the line of work as an FBI agent would never be the same.
Misora sighed, the rise and fall of her shoulders causing her raven hair to spill down over her face. She tucked a few strands behind her ear and continued reviewing the old case files she'd saved in the office's archives. The murder case in LA had left a haunting echo in her mind that never went away, and had come back around the same time of year. Although it had been a momentous opportunity to work with L, there were too many horrible and frightening impressions that overshadowed it. The bloodcurdling screams and overpowering smell of gasoline had etched their way into her memories, refusing to let her forget the event. Misora couldn't stare into the flames of a fire for very long until she'd begin to feel sick to her stomach. The very mention of dolls always made a horrible connotation to the blood-stained walls and mutilated corpses that served as the crime scene and sent her spiraling down the dark and twisted memory lane. And with each of these memories she saw in her mind the pale, sinister visage of Rue Ryuzaki.
These tormented recollections were interrupted by the loud slap of a manila folder hitting a pile of papers, making Misora jump at the sudden jolt back to reality. Several files fluttered to the floor to join the large mess of papers that were already strewn around her. She stared at the folder, hoping it contained another investigation; one that could distract her from having to think about the aforementioned case any further. Her brown eyes glanced up at her boss, and they quickly fell to the floor. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered quietly as she scrambled to gather the fallen paperwork.
"How many times do we have to go over this?" he demanded, arms folded. Misora remained silent while papers quickly formed an unorganized bundle in her arms that threatened to give at any moment. She set them aside and moved to the ones on the other side of her. She knew the answer — it had to be at least five times by now — but the question was not meant for her to give it.
Misora's boss put his foot down quite literally on the documents in front of her, barely grazing her hand with a size-10 leather dress shoe. "Forget them," he ordered dismissively, "I'll have some of the cleaning staff sort it out later." Misora bowed her head and stood, letting the papers she had fall loosely from her fingers. "Now I have a big case for you, and I don't want this to be on your mind while you solve it. Understand?"
Misora nodded, relieved that she'd have the chance to take her mind off things and focus her concentration on something productive. "What's the situation?" she inquired, taking up the folder and browsing through the contents. There were over ten police reports, a list of addresses, a description of a suspect by an eye witness, and a plane ticket.
"There've been a string of unusual robberies in the southern area of Chicago — not to say that there's rarely something going on in that part of town — but it's gotten hard to handle. I want you to find this guy fast; he's nearly impossible to track and we've lost too much time and money getting nowhere on this case."
"You're not going to send in someone else to do it this time?" asked Misora, cocking an eyebrow as her eyes scanned the pages. She'd been assigned simple, mindless nothing-jobs up until now, for obvious reasons.
"You're more than qualified," he reassured her. "Besides, you need to get out there again."
Misora wasn't entirely sure that this was true. Ever since the LA case, Raye had been urging her countless times to retire because of the danger she continually put herself in for the sake of her job. Misora had just denied it all, thinking that one case would fade into the dark crevices of her mind like all the other cases she'd helped to solve. But this one had left a permanent scar that she found herself picking at constantly; a scar that just wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.
Her boss was halfway out at that point. "Your flight leaves Monday afternoon," he added before disappearing out the door. His silhouette shrank behind the frosted glass window, and Misora sighed solemnly. She took up her shoulderbag and left the pile of papers unattended to walk out of the room, out of the office, out of the building and back to her car. Her boss and Raye and pretty much everyone else she'd talked to were right. It was time to put the LA case behind her and move on.
And although this resolution stirred a small amount of confidence in her, Naomi Misora knew that in time she'd start recalling the horrible incidence sooner or later — she just hoped it wouldn't take a turn for the worse.
Read, rate and review please! Thank you kindly :3
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