I'm using this 'disclaimer' as the cover for my work. The ideas and plot belong to me but the characters belong to their respective owners, as do any references made about brand names or other things that clearly do not belong to me. I do not own Death Note or any of the songs that are mentioned. Got it? Me no own. Now here's hoping that having this in the opening chapter is enough to keep me from getting sued.
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Scream, shout, scream, shout, we are the fallen angels
We are the in between, cast down as sons of war,
Struck to the earth like lightning, on this world we're torn,
We won't cause the pain, of living out their law,
Take joy in who you are we know our wings are flawed,
We're bored to death in heaven, and all alone in hell,
We only want to be ourselves
(Fallen Angels: Black Veil Brides)
/
It was the sensations that woke him up, the feeling of course gravel and cold winds against bare skin. His eyelids heavy as lead, the same feeling throughout the rest of his body. He was heavy and he was aching, though the aches were from phantom pains of wounds long gone. He wasn't sure how he knew that he'd been injured, he wasn't even sure as to where he was. There were things that came through in unfiltered thought form, he knew he was a teenager on the cusp of adulthood and he knew that he wasn't supposed to be as aware as he was.
The wind blew against his still form again, blowing grains of sand hard enough against the vulnerable skin turning them into pins. With a hoarse groan he forced his eyes open, rapidly blinking to bring his surroundings into focus. Grey, drab and post-apocalyptic were his surroundings, weathered bones of large ancient animals and ruins of buildings and people long past, the sky was filled with grey storm clouds though nothing fell from them. Heaving himself up onto shaky limbs, he staggered across the land, no particular destination in mind, he didn't know where he was and nothing gave him an indication. He dragged his feet across the ground, unable to lift them to their full height, so when his foot connected with something buried by the grit that made up the topsoil it was to be expected. A tattered, black notebook lay on the ground, pages darkened due to staining and torn due to the elements.
A wave of foreboding overcame him and he hesitated for ten seconds before long, tanned fingers- the kind found on pianists- reached out and snatched up the book. A barrage of memories assaulted his mind, names and faces, voices and written words, the assault wrangled a scream of pain and shock from him as a lifetime of forgotten memories returned. Seconds into the start of his memories returning, a tsunami of powerful emotions slammed into him. Boredom, apathy, rage and seething hatred drowned the miniscule amounts of happiness and joy that could be found in his life. The human who uses the Death Note can go to neither heaven or hell. The rule of the Death Note stood out glaringly against the onslaught of memories, followed by the ghost of rough laughter the shinigami Ryuk emitted. Light Yagami. Kira. God of the new world. He called himself 'justice', but that was clearly a product of the power-trip he'd gone on. He started out killing criminals and ended up killing others who'd came after him because of his mass culling. He'd been reduced to clutching the notebook to his chest as he struggled to prevent tears of shame and self-loathing to spill.
'At least I know where I am now.' It was clear he'd somehow ended up in the shinigami realm, the vague descriptions given to him by Ryuk made that clear. Heaving a shaky sigh, he straightened and began his way towards the horizon where the disfigured forms of shinigami could be seen gathered together. His journey seemed to take no time at all, almost as though he was moving fluidly through the surroundings, he soon stood on the edge of the grouped shinigami. He didn't stay for long, losing interest rapidly when he realised they were gambling with small skulls and polished bones, recalling what Ryuk had said back when the whole Kira fiasco started about the shinigami doing nothing but gambling.
"Come to me…" Light jerked to a stop and spun in a circle to try and spot the origin of the voice. "Come…" It was the voice of the whispers of the dead and dying. It appeared as though the speaker had grown impatient with him, an insistent pulling tugged him across the plains towards a figure on a throne. The shinigami king was nothing impressive in Light's opinion, his shadowed eyes were sunken in a bare skull, the rest of his skeleton body was hidden by a torn dark plum cloak. "It's about time I've had the chance to meet the infamous Kira, you don't disappoint. It's been three months since you were killed, and during that time six shinigami have gone missing. This is why you've been brought from the abyss, you are to find what has happened to the missing shinigami." Bony wings shifted slightly, remains of leathery torn skin swaying in the wind, the shinigami king had been unable to fly for what could have been centuries.
"How am I supposed to find six shinigami?" He asked, his voice scratchy from disuse and his earlier screams.
The king tilted his head, bones clicking as he looked at the undead teen. "The Kira of old would have been more observant. You've been in the void for so long that things are no longer coming to you as naturally as they once did, you haven't even noticed your state of undress."
Light felt his eyebrows shoot up, muscles tense and awkward after so much time spent unused, and he looked down only to be greeted by planes of bare, unblemished skin. Raising a hand he wound strands of his once brunet hair around his fingers, it was now a brilliant crimson, aside from his hair and he assumed, his eyes, the total lack of bullet wounds told Light that his form had been altered whilst in the void. Swallowing dryly and lowering his arm; still unable to summon a shred of discomfort, he looked back at the shinigami king.
"Am I one of you now? I used the Death Note so now I'm a shinigami?" He asked, his voice emotionless even though he was panicking on the inside. He threw the notebook he'd picked up earlier, onto the ground at the shinigami kings' feet, not at all shocked that his memories remained intact.
"Shinigami are not the only death bringers, reapers and angels of death are two of the others that assist in bringing life to an end. Shinigami were born this way, we had no other life. Reapers are ghosts of beings trapped on earth and they ferry the souls of the dead to their destinations. Angels of death are half-breeds, the most powerful death bringers to ever exist, they are half angel half demon but have the weaknesses of neither. Angels of death are the only beings that have no home base, forever forced to roam the realms. You are an angel of death, this is why your form remains that of a human. Your eyes are now those of a shinigami, but you have no need to write names in a Death Note or kill in order to survive, I'm sure you'll figure out how your kind brings death."
"Will I be visible to everyone I pass by?" Light asked somewhat sarcastically; rolling his eyes at the kings explanation.
"You can choose who'll see you and when, just as you can choose to hide you new features and go immaterial. I'm sure your wings will be well on their way to sprouting. After that, go straight to earth and begin your mission." The shinigami king vanished along with his throne with a burst of cruel laughter.
Pain shot through his nerve endings and he collapsed as his body trembled with the sudden onslaught. A cry escaped from his lips as he arched over, the sickly sound of skin and flesh tearing reaching his ears even as warmth trickled down his torso and the backs of his legs. His blood spilling even as with a final pain filled scream and wrenching feeling, he felt extra limbs fanning out from his back. Struggling to control his heavy breathing Light looked over his shoulder at the large black feathered, crimson tinged, wings that were still covered in gore. Heaving a deep breath he pulled himself back to his feet, swaying as he tried to balance with the new limbs tipping him from side-to-side. Hesitantly he twitched his muscles and watched as his wings obeyed his commands and the gore slicked off his feathers leaving them clean. With nary a thought he launched himself off the ground before landing after a minute of airtime. Upon touchdown a rustled and light wind feeling swept over his skin leaving him cleaned and wearing black skin-tight skinny jeans, black combat boots, a white shirt with hidden slits for his wings and silver chains strung around his throat featuring hourglasses and skulls-and-crossbones.
'Well, unless it's someone who knows me personally, I doubt anyone will recognise me looking like this if I ever decide to reveal myself.' Light knew his destination, it was obvious when the king pointed out his ability to choose when to be seen and when not to be. Earth. He was going back to Earth, and chances were high that he'd have to return to Japan. 'I wonder if L and the Kira taskforce are still together. It's been three months, they've probably gone their separate ways by now.' He allowed an animalistic growl of anger to sound in his throat at the thought of the people who'd gunned him down just when he'd finally reached a high-note in his rule. 'No matter, they're nothing to me now.'
He looked down at the spiral vortex of pulsating energy, a portal from the shinigami realm to any of the realms they choose. Heaving a resigned sigh; for already he could feel himself rebelling against remaining in the one place for any longer, he drew up close to it and stepped through without a second thought. It was a rush of cyclone force winds, blue pulsating energy and loud noise in his ears before the portal spat him out into the midnight blue star spangled sky. There was a few moments of intense freefall before Light recalled that he had wings and he glided, invisible across the skyline looking down at the illuminated city he'd lived and died in. Now he had a job to do.
…
Check out:
Bloodlines
Gasoline
Power Wielders: Bad Blood
Power Wielders: My Fight - NEW
